The captain and Bob descended silently into the periscope room.
“We jammed into an old wreck, did we?” queried Cassidy, calmly but with a look on his face which reflected the perturbation of his mind.
“Yes,” answered Bob. “Some Spanish ship went down here—perhaps loaded with treasure for across the sea.”
“Hardly loaded with treasure, Bob,” spoke up the captain. “This is the Spanish Main, and the reefs off Honduras offered shelter for many a pirate in the old days. This galleon, I am inclined to think, was stripped of her treasure by some buccaneer, and sunk. It is too bad that she was sunk in the course we happened to be taking.”
The rack of the useless motor ceased on an order from Bob; in the deep, deathlike silence that intervened, a wail came up from the tank room.
“Vat’s der madder mit us, Bob? Dit ve run indo a cave in der ocean? If ve can’t ged oudt, vat vill pecome of us?”
“We ran into an old Spanish ship, Carl,” answered Bob, “and we are so jammed in the side of the hulk that we haven’t been able, so far, to back out.”
“Meppy ve von’t nefer be aple to pack oudt! Meppy ve vas down here for keeps, hey? Nexdt dime I go down in some supmarines, you bed your life I make a vill before I shtart.”
Carl, white as a sheet and scared, came rolling into the periscope room. Dick likewise showed up from forward.
“Well, here we are!” said he; “I hadn’t any notion this was to be our last cruise.”