No one could tell, for the lone lamp in the cabin had fallen and gone out. But when the next lightning flash came the boys, who were standing near the rail, ready to jump, saw some dark object, setting low in the water. One of their hydroplanes had hit it, and had broken off.
“It’s a raft!” cried Bob. “Fellows, we’ve landed on a raft! Of all the luck!”
“Quick then!” shouted Ned. “Get aboard it. The Comet is sinking!”
Indeed it did seem so. The gallant craft of the air, caught crippled as she was in the grip of the sea, was fast settling in the water.
“I guess we’d better take to the raft,” said Jerry, mournfully. “Oh! if we only had a good light, and could see what we are doing we might save her yet! The sea isn’t as rough as I thought!”
As if in answer to his plea there seemed to come from the centre of that dark mass they had struck—a raft, as Bob thought—a soft glow of radiance, that seemed to spread all about them.
“Look!” cried Ned. “That’s no raft! See the riveted plates. Boys, it’s the submarine again! Three times and out. We’ve landed on the deck of that mysterious submarine!”
“By Jove you’re right!” yelled Jerry. “Fellows, it’s our only chance. Jump over there, and pound for all you’re worth. They’ve got to take us in before they sink, or we’ll go down in the suction. Jump and pound! It’s our last chance. The Comet is going down!”
Ned and Bob lost no time in obeying. Part of the wrecked motorship rested on the deck of the submarine. So it was easy for the boys and the professor to make the change.