“We’ll head for home!” cried Jerry.
“And what will we do with Dr. Klauss?” asked Ned.
“I don’t care what happens to him, once we are safe,” answered the tall lad.
Her tanks filled with plenty of fresh, compressed air, the submarine was again sent down, as they decided to travel under water. She was sunk to a depth of about three hundred feet, and her engines started at full speed.
“And now let’s have something to eat,” cried Bob, a little later. “We haven’t had a good meal—that is, one where we didn’t have to worry—in some time.”
“Right you are, Chunky!” cried Ned, slapping him on the shoulder.
They were all at the table, save the two Germans, who said they preferred to dine in their cabin, and the automatic steering apparatus had been set so that no one need be in the pilot house for the time being.
Suddenly the craft seemed to pitch forward. She assumed a sloping attitude, her nose pointed downward, at a steep angle.
“What’s the matter?” cried Jerry.
“Something’s wrong,” shouted Ned.