There was no reply. In the intense stillness one could hear the creaking, crackling sounds that always are present in a metal boat, as the material of which she is constructed contracts after a warm day.
“Better open up,” said Lieutenant Parry. “Mr. Lockyer, you stand at the foot of the ladder and be ready to shoot in case of trouble. We’ll open the door and try to collar the fellows without hurting them if they rush out.”
Clang!
The metal bar dropped as Ned pulled it out of its hasp. But there was still no sound from within.
The next moment the inventor’s party had swung the portal wide open. But the expected rush did not come, nor was there a sound to show that the dark torpedo-room was occupied.
“Bring a light here,” ordered Lieutenant Parry. “I believe——”
But there was no need for him to finish his sentence. Ned’s upraised lantern showed every nook and corner of the place.
It was empty of life.
It was almost immediately apparent how the two prisoners had effected their escape. Forward, where one of the after-base plates of the torpedo tubes had not been bolted in place, there was an easy means of exit which the lads, to their chagrin, had not noticed before. Evidently, all that Gradbarr and Anderson had had to do to gain their liberty was to enter the torpedo tube and crawl through.
“Good gracious,” cried Ned, vexed beyond measure; “we must have been blind or foolish or both not to have noticed that opening.”