"That's so," chimed in old Sam. "I guess it won't be Canada this trip. More likely to be one of their island hangouts."
"What will they do with us when they get us there?" inquired Jeff.
"I cannot guess any more than you," rejoined the professor. "Leave us there, maybe, while they make off to safety. We are a menace to them as long as we remain at large."
The others could not help but see it in this light. It was the logical thing for the gang of ruffians to do to dispose of such dangerous foes as Tom Dacre and his party had become. But how did they mean to do it? That was the engrossing question.
As has been said, it was sundown when the tug hove in sight. Now it grew dark with great rapidity.
"Well, we might as well put as bold a face as possible on our predicament," said the professor. "Let's have some light, Sam."
"All right," rejoined the old man. "I'll go below and turn on the dynamo."
In a few minutes a cheerful light flooded the submarine from stern to bow. Its rays streamed out through the lenses of the conning tower, and revealed an unwelcome sight. Two sailors from the tug, armed with rifles, were seated on the deck, smoking and making themselves as comfortable as possible. But they were unmistakably on the alert in case any attempt at escape was made.
"If I only knew how Jack and Sandy were faring, I'd feel better," said Tom, soon after this discovery had been made.
"You feel bettah, sah, if you hab some suppah," said Rosewater, thrusting his head into the conning tower from below. The faithful black had vanished some time before, unnoticed, and had devoted his time to preparing as good a meal as if nothing had happened to mar the harmony of life on the diving boat.