“Well, let’s get down to business,” suggested Mr. Pauling, when the laughter over Rawlins’ quaint conceit had subsided. “I suppose we’d better notify Disbrow and leave here. No use of delaying longer. The trail is blind now.”
“I vote we all turn in early and light out to-morrow morning,” suggested the diver. “I’m dead tired myself and the boys must be all in. They haven’t slept since night before last, you know, and it’s pretty near sundown now. How about grub, too?”
This seemed the wisest plan, and as Bancroft sat at his instruments rapidly sending a cipher message to the destroyer the steward served a belated but hearty meal.
“He’s received the message, Sir,” announced the operator as he joined the others. “Here’s his reply.”
“H-m-m!” said Mr. Pauling, as he glanced over the apparently meaningless figures and letters. “He’ll stand in and wait for us in the morning. Hasn’t seen any signs of a sub, or anything suspicious.”
Now that their appetites were satisfied and the excitement was over all realized how tired, exhausted and sleepy they were and gladly sought their bunks at an early hour.
It seemed to Rawlins that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he awoke with a start, the sound of a shout still ringing in his ears. For a brief instant he thought he had been dreaming and then, as the cry again echoed through the night, he realized it was no dream, that something was amiss, and wide awake leaped to the floor.
The next instant he uttered a yell of shock and surprise. Instead of landing on the rubber mat his feet had plunged into cold water!
“Get up! Wake! Hustle!” he screamed at Bancroft who occupied the other bunk. “The boat’s full of water!”
Without waiting, he dashed from the room, shouting and yelling, switching on lights and starting the alarm gong as he plunged, splashing, through the water that covered the steel plates of the floors.