The captain collected himself quickly and waved the youth away.
“Never mind me, my lad,” he answered. “I feel better, now that a little fresh oxygen is coming in to us. Go on with your maneuvering.”
All was silent in the submarine, save for the croon of the engine, running as sweetly as any Bob had ever heard. Aside from a faint oppression in the chest and a low ringing in the ears, the Grampus might have been cruising on the surface, so far as her passengers could know.
Cassidy was at the wheel, steering, his passive eyes on the compass.
Bob turned away from the manometer with a remark on his lips, but before the words could be spoken there was a shock, and the submarine shivered and stopped dead.
“Hello!” whooped the voice of Carl. “Ve must haf run indo vone of der moundains in der sea.”
“Full speed astern, Gaines,” cried Bob.
The blades of the propeller revolved fiercely. The steel hull shook and tugged, but all to no purpose.
Captain Nemo, junior, sat quietly in his seat and never offered a suggestion. His steady eyes were on Bob Steele.
Bob realized that they were in a terrible predicament. Suppose they were hopelessly entangled in the ocean’s depths? Suppose there was no escape for them, and the shell of the Grampus was to be their tomb? These reflections did not shake the lad’s nerve. His face whitened a little, but a resolute light gleamed in his gray eyes.