Rapidly the light grew, until a tiny beam from the westering sun shot straight through a window, and danced gaily about as the Seashark rocked to and fro on the smooth surface. At sight of it the women sobbed aloud. What the men did in the darkness can only be guessed.
Rapidly Howard threw back the cover of the manhole, and let the blessed air of heaven in. Instantly Mr. Willoughby’s head appeared. “Have you got my clothes there?” he demanded in a stage whisper.
With a snicker of relief, Howard passed up the clothes and, when the missionary was properly arrayed, called all the rest to come on deck.
The Seashark was floating in the familiar ocean of weed. No open water was in sight; if any was near it was not visible from a point so low in the water. Wreckage floated here and there; not a hundred yards away was the hulk of a dismasted water-logged lumber schooner, and a little farther off were the tangled spars of a huge ship.
Howard looked around him and shook his head. “It’s farther to clear water than I had thought,” he told Dorothy. “Not that it matters. We’ll be out to-morrow morning.” He turned to the rest. “Joyce! if you and Jackson will cut away the weed from around our propeller, I’ll do the rest. Mr. Willoughby will give you his knives. By the way, don’t lay them down on the water, or they’ll be a mile or so deep when we want them again.”
Joyce turned to Willoughby, who blushed. “I—I’m afraid that’s just what I did do, Mr. Howard,” he explained, confusedly. “Anyway, I’ve lost one of the two you gave me.”
“No matter, sir, I’ve got another,” interjected Joyce, as he and Jackson turned to their allotted task.
Left to himself, Howard threw the screw-shaft out of connection, and turned the full power of the gas-engine to recharging the electric accumulators. When all was running smoothly, he turned to the rest.
“It will be several hours, at best, before we can start, and I think, on the whole, we had better not do so until toward daylight, so as to be sure of plenty of light when we come up again. If you girls will get supper ready, we might as well dine.”
Dinner—or supper—began light-heartedly enough on the part of most of the party. Civilization seemed very near, and the spirits of the majority were high accordingly. Only Howard, to whom rescue meant something very different from what it did to the others, and Dorothy, who grieved in sympathy with him, were silent and distrait. Toward the end of the meal, Jackson, who had been unwontedly talkative, suddenly awoke to the realization that the time was rapidly approaching when he must again become the jailer of the man who had saved his life and his happiness. Under this incubus he suddenly shut up.