Once again Hamerton stopped to scatter something from the packet. Detroit recognized it now. It was pepper. It nearly made him sneeze. Then he realized what his companion was about. Hamerton meant to baffle the bloodhounds that were kept on the island for the purpose of assisting the sentries in arresting all suspicious characters and maintaining the jealously guarded secrets of the island fortress.
"Now, which way?" whispered Detroit. "To the Unterland?"
"Rather not," replied the Sub. "It's too well guarded. We'll strike inland and make good use of our liberty until the alarm is raised."
Guided by the chain of searchlights, which were now in full swing, Hamerton and his companion set off in a north-westerly direction. Once clear of the buildings they felt the force of the wind, which had now backed to the north-west. It was a struggle for them to keep their feet. Every now and again a vicious blast would bring them up "all standing", as Hamerton would have described it in naval parlance. As for the rain, it was too torrential to aid their flight, for at any moment they might blunder upon the sentries, since they could see barely twenty yards ahead, and that only very indistinctly.
Away on the right a wind motor, perched on a cast-iron tower, added to the din. It was one of several used for generating electric current for the searchlights, and could, if necessary, be lowered into a concrete-lined pit, so as to be out of reach of a hostile fire.
Hamerton pushed forward, counting the number of the steps he took. At the sixty-first he stopped abruptly and threw himself flat upon the grass, an example that Detroit promptly imitated.
Just in front of them was a high barbed-wire fence. On the furthermost side a sentry was standing, his hands resting on the muzzle of his rifle and his head bowed till the brim of his flat-topped cap touched his fixed bayonet.
For nearly five minutes the man remained in this position, though fortunately his face was turned slightly away from the two recumbent figures on the ground. Then, sloping his rifle, the sentry faced about and stolidly marched away, following the direction of the fence.
"There must be some object in posting a sentry so far from the road and away from the cliff," thought Hamerton. "I'll investigate."