Tom succeeded in rigging the light so that he could use it. By the time that the boat was around at the west side of the retaining wall Tom ordered the boat in close alongside. Then, with the depressed searchlight he discovered that he could see the sides of the wall to a depth of some eight feet under the surface.
"That may be enough for our needs," Reade murmured. "Now, run the boat along, slowly and close. I want to scan every bit of the wall."
Less than five minutes later Tom Reade, one hand controlling the searchlight and peering steadily into the water, sang out:
"Stop! Back her—-slowly. There, come back five feet. So! Hold her steady!"
As the engine stopped Conlon stepped forward, kneeling by Reade's side.
"There are the bombs, man!" cried Tom exultantly. "See them—-the two upper ones?"
"I see something that gleams," admitted Conlon.
"Well, we'll have them up and aboard in a hurry. Then you'll see just what they are."
"You're not going to try to raise the things with the boathook, are you?" queried the engine tender, a look of alarm in his eyes.
"That might be risky," admitted Reade. "I'll go over the side after them and bring them up.