“Gracious!” cried Jerry, who had run out of the pilot house on hearing Ned’s cry. “I hope there aren’t any more aboard!”
“I wish I could get half a dozen,” said the professor, as he rose from the deck. “I could sell them to various museums for a good sum.”
“Well, if you take many more chances like that,” said Ned with a laugh, “you’ll never get any more specimens—not even the hermit crabs you’re after.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful,” promised the scientist. “I do hope I can get those crabs. Do you think you boys will be able to manage a submarine when this trip is over?”
“We’ll see,” said Jerry, non-committally.
They cruised about a little longer, and then, as darkness came on, the big search-light was set aglow, making a white illumination on the surface of the sea. Jerry let the airship sink lower now, for he realized that to pick up a small boat during the night would be no easy task. They divided the night into watches, as one boy could easily do all that was required to the motors and engines, and, at the same time, keep watch out below.
The night passed without incident, save that the wind sprang up about three o’clock, making it necessary to work the propellers at a higher rate of speed to overcome the air currents. Then morning dawned, but there was no sight, on the heaving sea, of the small boat they sought. The wreck of the Hassen had also disappeared below the horizon.
“And as for that submarine,” said Bob, “I guess that has gone back to Germany.”
“You see how groundless your fears were about her attacking the vessel your uncle was on,” spoke Ned. “You’re almost as bad as Andy Rush, Chunky.”
“Not quite,” said Jerry, with a laugh, defending his stout chum.