“It must have been a submarine mine,” answered Bob, in a voice that shivered perceptibly.
“A mine!” returned Dick. “But it exploded behind us! If we set it off, why didn’t it explode under us and blow us to smithereens?”
“It must have been a mine of the floating variety—a contact mine which was out of working order. We passed over it; and then, when we were safely out of the way, the pesky thing let go.”
Dick Ferral’s face grew even paler than it had been. As the dread import of Bob’s words dawned on him, he realized the close call the submarine and all her passengers had had.
“A narrow escape!” Dick muttered, getting slowly to his feet and rubbing his head, “I never want to get so close to kingdom come as that again! Why, Bob, we couldn’t have done that trick once in a thousand times.”
“We did it this time, anyhow,” answered Bob quietly. “A miss is as good as a mile, Dick. Better go below and explain to our friends.”
Dick staggered back and climbed into the tower, and his face was still white as he dropped off the ladder into the periscope room.
Clackett, Speake, and Ysabel crowded around him.
“What happened?” cried Clackett. “The old catamaran turned a regular handspring; then she stood on her propeller for about a minute and seemed to be thinking of going down to stay.”