Rounding up the Raider

Excerpt: ...morning, when, more by good luck than by good management, the two British officers stumbled upon the clearing on which stood the galvanized iron house that they had noticed when the Myra lay at anchor in the lagoon. Although no light was visible, there were men within, for the subs could hear the rasping of a file and the sharp whirr of a hack-saw. "Steady!" whispered Denbigh. "Bear away a little. Remember we're close to the native village. Ten to one there'll be a crowd of dogs about, and our clothes, in spite of ill-usage, are fairly conspicuous against the dark background." Twice they halted before they crossed a foot-track through the mangrove forest. At the second path, they had to wait until a party of German bluejackets had passed. The men were armed, and were accompanied by a score of blacks, who had been impressed to drag a small field-gun up the hill. Unsuspecting the Germans went on their way, and the subs, after a safe interval had elapsed, continued their way to the shore. Suddenly O'Hara gripped his companion's arm and pointed. Fifty feet below them, and at a distance of two hundred yards, was the native village. The huts were wrapped in silence. Only the women and children remained, for the men had been compelled to throw up earthworks to defend the lagoon from the anticipated attack. Outside the village stood two German soldiers armed with rifles and fixed bayonets, their duty being to prevent any of the inhabitants from leaving their huts during the night. "It's not healthy that way," he whispered. "More to the left, old man. I can hear the surf." Ten minutes more found them at the edge of the forest, and on the brink of the two cliffs, immediately opposite which the Pelikan had brought up and had fought her brief and unsatisfactory action with the British gunboat. Bathed in the slanting rays of the moon, which was now on the wane, were the placid waters of the lagoon. Nothing could, it seemed, escape being detected up on that...