The ringing orders and quick work with the engine had aroused none of the sleepers. Carl could be heard babbling excitedly in the tank room, but otherwise the ship’s complement was quiet.
It was with a distinct feeling of relief that Bob caught the first gleam of day as it was reflected by the periscope. As the morning advanced and brightened, he raised a black smudge, as of steamer smoke, on the port quarter. The smoke was bearing along in the direction the submarine was going, and Bob wondered if that was the steamer they had barely missed running into during the night.
Gaines relieved Dick, Clackett took Carl’s place, and Speake came after Ah Sin and ordered him below to get breakfast. When the Chinaman was fairly at work, Speake returned to the engine room and took the wheel. Glennie showed himself when breakfast was ready, and he, Bob, Dick, Carl, and Speake ate their breakfast in the periscope room.
“We must be off British Guiana,” remarked Glennie, stirring the condensed milk and sugar into his coffee. “Will you put in at Georgetown, Mr. Steele?”
“We won’t have to do that, now that we’ve picked you up at Port of Spain,” replied Bob. “We’ve got to make quick time to the Amazon.”
“Iss dot shdeamer der vone ve come pooty near running indo lasdt night?” queried Carl, taking a look into the periscope.
“It’s about an even guess whether it is or not.”
As Sin, who happened to be in the room, took a look at the periscope for himself.
“Did we come near having a collision last night?” queried Glennie, looking up quickly.