“What was it, sor?”
“I’m not certain. But I think a wreck must have chosen the very moment of our passage to sink, and must have drawn us down into her vortex. We escaped at last, and are now at the surface. But I fear our machinery is ruined. I’ll open the manhole.”
Turning, Howard clambered back to his perch, and tried to push back the bolts. They were badly jammed, and it took him some time to loosen them; but at last they gave way, and he shoved back the cover and thrust out his head.
The Seashark was rolling gently on smooth weed-clear water. A quarter of a mile away lay a white cruiser, and not a hundred yards distant was a boat rapidly approaching.
Howard rubbed his eyes. “Ahoy, the boat,” he called.
The officer in charge gasped. “Way enough,” he ordered. “Ahoy, the submarine. Where in heaven did you come from?”
“From mighty near the other place,” answered Howard grimly. “Did you torpedo that wreck?”
“That’s what we did. We’re destroying derelicts, and hunting for a party of castaways from the Queen. Do you know anything about them?”
“THIS IS, OR, RATHER, WAS—MISS FAIRFAX,” HE EXPLAINED.
“AND YOU——”