Back to the rail hurried the two young officers, intent on studying the wreck as long as it remained within vision. Their discussion fell naturally into the number of grand old ships that had gone down during the war—the "wind-jammers" of earlier days, the sailing craft that had been drafted for service in the transportation of supplies, and the still more modern steam craft—all of them victims of the submarine's merciless hunger for tonnage through four years of frenzied world war.
"Many gallant old ships down there under the waves," remarked Jay as he peered thoughtfully over the rail into the swirling waters that were churned into a mad rapids by the massive propeller blades of the Leviathan.
Dick slung the glasses over his shoulder and fell into the speculative mood of his old Brighton roommate.
"Right you are, Jay; good old ships of the line that have anchored for the last time on the bottom of the sea. Imbedded in silt or wasting away on their rocky beds. Gone but not forgotten."
Jay stirred from his revery.
"Not so sure about that 'gone but not forgotten' stuff," was his observation. "Science will never let all those ships stay there for keeps—not on your tin cup. Think of all the ships sunk! Think of the billions of cargo that went down with them—billions of dollars' worth of valuable stuff of all kinds."
"Yes, and most of it perishable like foodstuffs, grain and the like that by this time has crumbled into decay deep down in Davy Jones' locker," broke in Dick.
"Yes, I know," continued Jay, "but how about all the coal that could be reclaimed? Think of the ores and the steel and the guns and shells and stuff like that; they would still be good should they ever be reclaimed. And oh, boy, think of all the gold bullion and the silver and all the priceless stuff that's still as good as the day it first saw the rays of the sun. Man alive!"
Jay's eyes sparkled at the thought of the treasure deep down in the fathoms—ransoms big enough to buy whole countries of the earth!