“Look!” whispered Bob hoarsely, nodding toward the lunettes.
The captain pressed his eyes against the thick glass and then dropped back.
“A ship!” he exclaimed. “We have rammed an old Spanish galleon and are caught in her rotting timbers!”
He looked upward, his startled eyes engaging Bob’s, and the two staring at each other.
CHAPTER II.
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
What the captain had said was true. The Grampus, cruising in those great depths, had had the misfortune to hurl herself bodily on into an ancient wreck.
The wreck, which must have lain for centuries there on the bottom, was covered with marine growth, yet, nevertheless, seemed wonderfully well preserved. The high bow and poop, covered with serpentlike lianes and creeping weeds, were erect in the water, for the galleon lay on an even keel. The ship’s two masts and steep bowsprit had been broken off, and the decks were a litter of weeds, shells, and sand.
The Grampus, cleaving the heavy submarine growth, had flung her sharp prow into the galleon’s side and was embedded almost to the flagstaff.