“You’re going to leave us here in the dark?” inquired Gradbarr.
“It’s the only safe thing to do,” rejoined Ned.
As the two lads reached the door, Ned made a quick step backward and seized the hand rail on the outside of the room. He was only just in time, for the instant that he relaxed his vigilance Gradbarr made a desperate spring for him. But his leap was met, not by the lad’s form, but by a ponderous mass of metal as the door swung to. The next moment the heavy clang of the bar on the cabin side falling into place apprised both rascals, even had they required such notification, that they were prisoners.
“Phew!” exclaimed Ned, “I’m mighty glad that is over. One second more with that door and we’d have had a tussle on our hands. I don’t admire Mr. Gradbarr, but he is certainly a fighter. He’s all beef and brawn, mixed with steel alloy.”
“What’ll we do now?” asked Herc, as they could hear from the other side of the door Gradbarr’s furious voice railing at them.
“Make tracks for the new foreman’s house. He lives close to here, and then we must summon Mr. Lockyer and Lieutenant Parry,” was the rejoinder.
“You don’t think they’ll do any harm in that torpedo room just out of rage at being captured?”
“Well, they can’t do much harm. We’ve got their tools,” rejoined Ned.
At the gate of the yard, they almost stumbled over a moving form asleep on a bench.
“It’s the watchman,” exclaimed Ned disgustedly. “He smells of liquor, too. He’s a fine guardian for such a valuable bit of property as that submarine.”