CHAPTER X
THE SPEAR OF FOAM
"A little fresh air is clearly indicated," said my brother, "and after that, when I've attended to another little matter, a good breakfast. Some of us may be taking our next meal in Fiddlers' Green, which, they say in the Navy, is nine miles to windward of hell, though I hope not."
He switched on the light again and went to the side table, where there was a complicated array of wheels and levers, all of which were duplicated in the chamber immediately below and by means of which the Commander, watching the picture of the periscope, could control every movement of the boat with his own hands if necessary.
He pulled a lever and a bell clanged. At once the loud purring of the electric engines ceased.
Bernard pulled over another and larger lever with both hands. I suddenly felt myself slipping backwards, until I fetched up against the wall of the conning-tower, narrowly missing the opening to the steersman's chamber.
"By Jove! I forgot to tell you," said Bernard. "You see, I've stopped the electric engines and jammed over the horizontal rudders. We're slanting up to the surface—look!"
Immediately in front of me and a little above my head, I now saw round portholes filled with amazingly thick, toughened glass. These had been quite black and had escaped my notice before. Now, as I watched, they grew a little lighter. Click! and the lamp went out. The portholes were grey now, grey melting into green, which grew brighter and brighter until it turned into a froth of soda-water, and then there was nothing but white sky. There was a slight jerk and the floor seemed to right itself.
"We're just awash now, but we'll get above water."
Again the ring of a bell, an order through a speaking-tube. After that came a clang of machinery and an extraordinary bubbling, choking noise, like a giant drinking.