That was Ned giving Bob a thump on the back.
“What’s the matter?” indignantly demanded the stout youth.
“Cut out the imaginary eats!” was the answer. “Haven’t we got troubles enough without that? But here comes Jerry. Now to see if he has found out anything!”
The tall lad, on whose coat was the D. S. C., sauntered toward his two chums. With a signal from his eyes—a signal they well knew how to interpret, Ned and Bob moved to one side. Jerry had told them, without the use of words, that he wanted to speak with them alone.
Just then, fortunately for their plans, there was a little commotion farther up the deck, and in the rush that followed there was a clear space left near the rail where the three boys now stood.
“Well, what is it?” asked Ned, as Jerry looked first at him and then at Bob. “Are we sinking, Jerry?”
“Far from it. The hull is as sound as a dollar.”
“Then it wasn’t a mine or a torpedo?” asked Bob.
“Not this time. But there has been an accident to the machinery, and we’re returning to the dock for repairs.”
“Only an accident to the machinery!” exclaimed Ned. “Then why, in the name of Andy Rush, all this mystery and excitement?”