The swimmers’ outstretched arms rested on the bridge of a submarine!
CHAPTER XXXII.
LIKE A DREAM OF GOOD LUCK.
Through the conning tower hatch of the submarine emerged a sailor, holding high a brilliant flare that looked like a small searchlight.
“What’s your number, lads?” he hailed.
“Four of us, sir,” weakly responded Jimmy.
The sailor stepped out on the slippery deck of the boat, that alternately rose and fell in the swell of the sea.
“Whereaway?” questioned the sailor.
“To the bottom of the sea, if you don’t give us a lift,” replied Jimmy.
The sailor turned to the hatch, sent a call below, and two more jaunty tars sprang through the opening.