“It’s what Silas would call ‘checkmate,’ then?” questioned Wilson.
“That’s it; but it seems jolly hard, just as we’d bested the brute, too. How’s that crack going on where his tail caught us?”
“I’ve fixed the door of the room—it’s Mervyn’s study, you know, where the smash is—so that the water cannot spread to other places. I say, it was a good thing we decided to have water-tight doors to all the compartments!”
But Garth did not answer. He was gazing fixedly outside. The water, stained until now to a crimson hue by the life-blood of the saurian, was clearing rapidly.
“Look!” the inventor cried suddenly. Wilson followed the direction of his gaze. Close alongside a jagged, black rock was thrusting itself upward as the vessel sank.
“If the brute’s body will only catch on that we may escape after all,” Garth cried excitedly. “Get below again, Tom, old man, and start your engines like blazes when you hear me ring.”
The next few moments were full of painful anxiety to the engineer as he waited, gripping his levers, for the signal which should tell him that the vessel was free. It came at length, and a wild huzza almost escaped him as he felt the Seal begin to move. Ere long she was sweeping through the water at her usual pace, and then Wilson felt free to raise her. When she reached the surface the lad rejoined his comrade in the turret.
“Thank heaven we came through all right!” Garth breathed fervently. “That squeak was narrow enough to turn one’s hair grey. But for that rock we’d have been done, sure as fate. The brute’s head caught against it, and the old boat simply dropped from under. How’s your arm?”
“Aches badly,” was the reply. “I knocked it as I went down the last time.”
“That’s bad. I’ll dress it soon as ever we get back.”