“Yes, but we’re lost!” declared Frank. “We haven’t any idea where we are!”
“I know it,” admitted Tom, “but we can’t help that now. After we’ve gone farther we’ll stop and call our folks. Those chaps back there can’t hear us and if their sub does, it won’t make any difference now. They know we’re here and we’ve got to get out.”
For fully half an hour they toiled on. Their breath came in gasps, their arms ached, their hands were blistered and raw, but they dared not stop. Then, when they felt they could go no farther, their boat shot out from the mangroves and they found themselves floating on a broad lagoon.
“Hurrah!” cried Frank, “we’re back where we saw the manatee!”
“Golly, so we are!” agreed Tom. “Well, I’m going to use the radio now and see if we can get our people.”
But all attempts to get their submarine proved fruitless. Over and over again they called. Hopefully and patiently Tom listened while Frank moved the resonance coil about, but not a sound came through the receivers.
“It’s no use,” declared Tom at last. “We can’t get them. What on earth will we do?”
“All we can do is to go on,” replied Frank in dejected tones. “It’s almost dark, we may find our way by luck.”
“I can’t row another stroke,” declared Tom. “I’m all in. We might just as well lie here and rest, at least until the moon comes up. We can’t go on in the dark through these creeks.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Frank who, now the excitement was over, felt utterly exhausted. “We’re as safe here as anywhere.”