"That isn't Ned!" cried Jack's voice, in a moment.
"Don't let him get away! He's been up to some mischief!"
That was Frank Shaw's voice.
"Soak him!"
That could be no one but Jimmie!
Ned, groping about in the darkness, heard the voices faintly. He seemed to be submerged in a sweep of pounding waves, the steady beating of which shut out all individual sounds.
He knew that he staggered and stumbled as he walked. Moving across the floor his feet came in contact with some soft obstruction lying on the rug and he fell down.
There was a strange, choking odor in the place, and he groped on his hands and knees in the direction of the shelf where his searchlight had been left. His senses reeled, and for an instant he lay flat on the floor.
Then he heard the boys clambering down the stairs from the conning tower and called out, feebly, yet with sufficient strength to make himself heard above the sound of shuffling feet.
"Go back!" he cried. "Don't come in here! Leave the hatch open, and let in air. Go back!"