It was true. Although the flood-tide had not yet reached its height, the water was rapidly running out from shore, and the Seal was fast being left high and dry.
“Full speed astern, Tom!” Garth cried, as he and Wilson darted into the wheelhouse. Down the steps the engineer bounded, two at a time, and hurled himself along the corridor of the engine-room.
Clank! The levers went over with all his force behind them. The gleaming cranks flew round in a halo of dazzling light, but the vessel moved not an inch. Her propellers shrieked on the air, for the water had entirely receded, and she was hard and fast ashore.
With a muttered exclamation the lad left the engine-room.
“No use?” he said, as he re-entered the turret.
“Not a bit,” returned Garth. “It’s the queerest thing I ever knew. Mervyn can’t account for it either. The water simply ran out as though a hole had opened in the sea-bed. See, there is no water in sight anywhere; nothing but sand.”
“It’s a licker!”
The two men turned at the words. Haverly had entered the turret.
“My word, Silas,” exclaimed Wilson, “you’ll get it hot if the professor sees you! You ought not to be up yet.”
“I guess I’m the best judge of that,” retorted the American with a feeble smile. “I calculated as a constitutional ’ud set me up some, so here I am. But what in the name of blazes has come to the water? Have yer plumped the old boat down in the middle of a desert, or what?”