“I don’t understand how they can see us, the way she is now,” said Ned. “She seems tightly sealed.”
“Oh, there’s doubtless a way we can’t observe,” spoke Jerry, as he prepared to send the Comet aloft.
The submarine lay sullen and motionless on the surface of the sea. It was like some monster of the depths that had come up for a breath of air and would, on the slightest alarm, dive down to the fastness of some ocean cave again. Not a sign of life was to be observed; not a sound came from the strange craft. She was the personification of mystery.
Silently the Comet rose into the air, Jerry having started the gas generator. He wanted to rise as a balloon—without a sound—so that he might not give the alarm to those in the submarine. In this way they might get close enough to communicate with the captain or crew.
“But from the looks of that fanatical old German,” spoke Bob, “I don’t believe he’d give us a sandwich if we were starving.”
“This may not be the same craft,” observed Jerry.
“That’s right,” admitted Bob, “but she looks just like the one we saw.” All the boys agreed to this.
Higher and higher went the Comet, and then Jerry put in motion the propellers that would send her over the half-mile of water that intervened between the air craft and the one from the depths.
As the Comet came nearer and nearer to the submarine there was still no sign aboard the mysterious craft that the boys had been observed. Either their presence was being ignored, or those aboard the fish-like boat were not aware of it.
“What are you going to do, Jerry?” asked Ned, a little later, as he noted that they were right above the submarine. “Are you going to land on her back?” They could now see a small, flat deck.