The swishing clank of chains, paying out under water, came to the ears of those in the periscope room.
“Anchor’s down!” cried Clackett.
“Der same here!” yelled Carl, his voice ringing from aft.
“Stop the motor, Gaines!” ordered Bob.
The humming of the cylinders ceased, and the Grampus, anchored broadside on across the Izaral, tugged at her mooring chains.
“Where are we, Bob?” came the voice of Gaines through the motor-room tube. “I thought we were making a run to get away from the revolutionists.”
“Hardly, Gaines,” answered Bob. “We don’t want to run away and leave our friends in the hands of the rebels. Come into the periscope room, all of you, and I’ll explain what we are doing and why we are doing it.”
“And while you’re explaining,” said Ysabel quietly but firmly, “I’ll take care of your arm. Where is something I can use for a bandage? And I’d like a sponge and a basin of water.”
“You’ll find a bandage in that locker you’re sitting on, Ysabel,” said Bob.
“I’ll get the water,” said Dick.