“What about the bottom?” Tim asked Pat.
“It’s going to be a tough proposition even if we find the old ship. Lots of rock down there and queer currents. There must be all kinds of holes in the outer reef.”
Commander Ford was silent, planning the activities for the next day, and everyone aboard the submarine, except the watch, was in their blankets early.
The next morning at dawn the men of the S-18 were on deck, preparing for another day of grappling for the wreckage of the Southern Queen.
“I wonder if Crazy John could have been mistaken?” Tim asked Pat.
“It’s possible, but I don’t believe Commander Ford would have fitted out an expensive expedition like this if he hadn’t been pretty sure of his facts. We’ve got a lot of territory inside the reefs to explore before we give up hope.”
“Or before Sladek and the Iron Mate arrive,” put in Tim, searching the sky for a possible trace of the seaplane from the tramp steamer.
There was a bright, burning sun and throughout the morning hours the boat crews toiled, dragging hooks on the uneven bottom. After a hasty lunch, they returned to the gruelling task. Tim, confident that the seaplane could be made ready for flight in a minimum time, squatted on the deck and watched the operations.
It was late afternoon when a joyful shout from Pat rang across the water.
“We’ve snagged something!” he cried.