“That’s it!” agreed Ted. “Come on, boys!”
The submarine was now rolling at a sickening angle. It was as though she was in the trough of the sea, on top, but the boys knew she was several hundred feet down. A glance at an auxiliary depth gage told them that.
“It’s he who is doing it!” cried Ted. “He’s crazy—he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s filling the ballast tanks unequally, and she’s got a bad list to starboard. And he’s set the port and starboard planes at different angles, which makes her go down this way. Oh, he’s surely crazy! He’ll kill us all!”
White-faced they stared at one another. It seemed that the end had come.
Suddenly they all became aware of a peculiar odor—a choking, suffocating smell, while there seemed to be floating about them a vapor of greenish-yellow tint. They began to gasp for breath.
“What—what is it?” panted Bob. “I—I can’t breathe!”
“None of us will in a few minutes!” choked Jerry. “It’s chlorine gas! Some sea water must have gotten into the sulphuric acid of the storage battery solution. That will make chlorine!”
“That—that’s right, lad!” gasped Ted. “That’s what happened. I’ve smelled it before when we had an accident on board Uncle Sam’s submarines. There’s a leak near the storage tanks!”
“What—what can be done?” queried Mr. Sheldon. “That gas will soon be deadly.”