Jagged splinters of rock reached up from the ocean bottom to impale the hull of the S-18, but each time the skilful hands of her commander directed the submarine past the danger spot. There was a brisk wind, and waves broke sharply over the hull, but at last the S-18 was past the outer rim of rock which encircled the island and safely into the smoother water. Everyone breathed easier as the order to let go the anchor came from the conning tower and the mud hook was dropped sharply away.
Two sturdy boats, both collapsible, were brought up from the diving compartment and assembled on the deck. Charlie Gill and Russ Graham, the chief divers, checked over their equipment and Pat gave Tim a hand in loosening the fastenings which held the seaplane to the deck.
Joe Gartner even found time to polish his beloved four inch gun and Tim felt that Joe was secretly praying for a chance to get into action against the Iron Mate.
When the first boat was lowered into the water, Commander Ford stepped into the stern and Charlie Gill and Russ Graham manned the oars. The commander was going to waste no time in attempting to locate the wreck of the treasure ship.
The crew of the S-18, clustered on deck, watched the progress of the small boat as it bobbed about inside the reefs. Both Gill and Commander Ford were busy making soundings while the other diver handled the boat. Back and forth they crept along the reef, their lines dragging the bottom for some sign of the Southern Queen.
The hours slipped away and the other boat, in charge of Pat, joined the first in the quest for the location of the old vessel.
Tim remained on deck, squatting in the shadow of the seaplane. Ike Green joined him.
“Why don’t they take the S-18 down and creep along the bottom until they find the Southern Queen?” asked Tim.
“Commander Ford’s afraid of the currents around the reef. He wants to know something about the bottom before he takes the S-18 down.”
The remainder of the afternoon was spent with the two small boats dragging their grappling hooks along the bottom. At sundown the weary crews returned to the submarine. There was no use to ask whether they had found any trace of the Southern Queen. The tired, disappointed faces were enough.