“Navy Yard on the wire!” announced the man at the phone and Mr. Pauling grabbed the receiver.
“This is Pauling!” he announced shortly. “That you, Admiral? All right! Got important matter.”
Then, to Tom’s amazement, his father broke into the most utter gibberish, calling out a confused but rapid list of figures and words.
“That’s done!” he exclaimed, as he slammed back the receiver and turned towards Tom. “There’ll be a dozen destroyers and chasers combing the sea for that sub within fifteen minutes.” Then, with a different note in his voice, he asked, “Do you feel all right, Son?”
As Tom answered, his father turned towards the men bending above the figure on the floor. “Come
here when you have a chance, Doctor,” he called. “Want you to have a look at my boy.”
At his words, one of the men rose and hurried to Tom’s side.
“Had a close call, my boy!” he exclaimed, as he took Tom’s wrist and drew out his watch. “Good thing Rawlins fixed up these suits so you couldn’t inhale flames. Different case with that chap yonder. He’s in bad shape. Trying to fix him up to get him to hospital. Afraid there’s no hope for him though! Oh, you’re O. K. Fit as a fiddle! Pulse fine! Nothing wrong with him, Pauling. Just a bit of nerves, I expect, and strain of being down too long.”
Hurrying from Tom’s side he again devoted himself to the injured man.
Things were moving so rapidly that Tom was dazed and was striving his best to gather his wits together and to understand all that was taking place. Mr. Henderson and Rawlins were talking earnestly in low tones, but Tom could not hear a word they said and was busy replying to his father’s, Henry’s and Frank’s questions and plying them with queries in turn.