Gradually the sound of the reptile’s paddles grew fainter. Like a hunted hare the submarine twisted and doubled, ever drawing away from her monstrous foe; yet, even when all sound of the brute had ceased, Wilson still held on, determined not to fall foul again of the peril he had so narrowly escaped.
But now danger arose from another source.
The Seal’s excessive speed made travelling within the enveloping mist highly dangerous. Each moment the engineer expected some obstruction to loom before him—a rocky island, perhaps, upon which the submarine would dash blindly and shiver herself to fragments.
Dared he leave the Seal to her own devices for a few seconds, and slip below to slow the engines? He asked himself the question over and over again, ere he summed up courage to loose the wheel-spokes and make a quick dash for the engine-room.
Quick as thought he pulled back the lever, almost to its resting-place, then raced to the stairs.
As he reached them there came a grating jar which shook the vessel, and, with a crash that jerked him off his feet, the Seal came to a standstill.
Somewhat bruised by his fall, the engineer rose, and, retracing his steps, entirely stopped the engines, after which he betook himself once more to the turret, anxious to know the full extent of the accident.
It was as he thought. He had slowed the engines a few moments too late, and the vessel, racing madly forward by her own momentum, had piled herself high and dry upon a shingly beach.
This much Wilson could discover by leaning over the rail, but the mist was still too dense to allow him to make out the character of his surroundings.
Whether he was anywhere near the spot from which he had started he could not tell; but, realising that he could do nothing until the mist lifted, he prepared himself some food and made a hearty meal.