difficult at high water. We've come back that way, you know.'

('And we run aground every day,' I remarked, with resignation.)

'Is that where the Medusa gave you the slip?' asked von Brüning,
still studying Davies with a strange look, which I strove anxiously
to analyze.

'She wouldn't have noticed,' said Davies. 'It was very thick and
squally--and she had got some way ahead. There was no need for her to
stop, anyway. I got off all right; the tide was rising still. But, of
course, I anchored there for the night.'

'Where?'

'Inside there, under the Hohenhörn,' said Davies, simply.

'Under the _what_?'

'The Hohenhörn.'

'Go on--didn't they wait for you at Cuxhaven?'

'I don't know; I didn't go that way.' The commander looked more and
more puzzled.

'Not by the ship canal, I mean. I changed my mind about it, because
the next day the wind was easterly. It would have been a dead beat
across the sands to Cuxhaven, while it was a fair wind straight out
to the Eider River. So I sailed there, and reached the Baltic that