CHAPTER XXIII.
THE GRIM VISAGE OF DANGER.
Lieutenant Parry sprang toward the speaking tube connecting with the engine room. Already they could feel the tremor as the submarine was violently backed from whatever it was she had struck.
“Stand by your wheel,” he flung at old Tom, as he jumped.
“Aye, aye, sir,” was the steady reply. The weather-beaten old mariner’s face might have been a mask carved out of mahogany for all the emotion it displayed.
“Below at the engines!” bawled Lieutenant Parry down the tube.
“Here, sir,” came up the steady rejoinder from Bowler, and the officer rejoiced to note that his voice did not tremble or falter.
“Have we struck something, sir?”