"Jove, boy, you have sharp eyes!" commented the inventor, turning his gaze in the direction Tom had indicated.
"Is that what we struck, sir, do you think?" asked the boy.
"We'll go closer and see what it is. Oh, don't be afraid, professor; there's no danger this time," he added, for the man of science had begun to protest against what he termed "sheer recklessness."
Slowly, very slowly, the Huron crawled through the lower waters.
It speedily became evident that the indefinite object that Tom had seen, looming up vast and shadow-like in the searchlight's path, was the sunken wreck of some sort of a vessel. As they drew closer, they could make out the masts and see the big black hull.
"Humph!" commented Mr. Ironsides. "It's lucky the sensograph gave warning when it did, or we might not be in as good shape as we are now."
Under the inventor's handling, the Huron was moved slowly round the sunken craft. She had been lumber laden, evidently, for part of her cargo could be seen still lashed to her decks.
As they rounded her stern, Tom saw a name in white paint inscribed on it.
"Mary J. Jennings—Rockport."
"Why, I recall reading about the loss of the Jennings!" he cried. "It was last winter, in a bitter storm, that she was lost with all hands. At least, they supposed she was lost, for she never reappeared. I suppose her load of lumber had kept her from sinking altogether, though she was water-logged enough to be submerged."