“It’s not,” answered Bob. “We’ll get out of this.”
He turned to Captain Nemo, junior, who was again seated quietly, his calm eyes on Steele.
“The power of the screw, unaided, will not serve to get us clear of the wreck,” said the captain. “What are you going to do, Bob?”
Bob thought for a moment. “Am I to have my way, captain?” he asked.
“Certainly. I want to see what you can do.”
“Speake! Gaines! Clackett!” called Bob. “Come up here, at once.”
From the engine room, the torpedo room, and the ballast room came the rest of the submarine’s crew. Their faces were gray with anxiety, but they were men of pluck and determination, and could be depended on to fight for life until the very last.
“Men,” said Bob, “we have rammed an old hulk that has been lying for centuries in the bottom of St. George’s Bay. The nose of the Grampus is caught and held in the wreck’s side, and the full power of the engine is not sufficient to pull us out. We shall have to try something else—something that will put a great strain on the steel shell of the submarine, considering the pressure the boat is under at this enormous depth. I am going to give some orders, and on the swiftness with which they are carried out our lives may depend. You will all go back to your stations, Carl with Clackett and Dick with Gaines; and when I shout the word ‘Ready!’ the engine will be started with all power astern. At the same instant, Clackett and Carl will open the pipes and admit air into the ballast tanks, and open the valves that let out the water. We may have to do all this several times, if necessary, but you fellows have got to be prompt in doing what you are told.”
Admiration was again reflected in Captain Nemo’s pale face. Leaning back against the steel wall of the periscope room, he settled himself quietly to await developments.
“Count on me,” said Clackett, as he and Carl disappeared.