Suddenly, the swishing sound came again. A lever, shoved over on its quadrant by the young naval officer, had set the compressed air at work, driving the water out of the stern tanks. As they emptied, the boat pitched by her head till she sloped at quite a steep angle.
“Hang on with your toe-nails,” yelled old Tom, “here she goes! Down to the tie-ribs of the earth!”
As he spoke, the engines began their song once more. Down—down—driven by the force of her triple screws, the Lockyer dived. Into the dark profundities they shot, down amidst the hidden mysteries of the sea, while their pulses beat wildly.
CHAPTER IX.
SCHOONER, AHOY!
With her company silent as graven images at the sheer wonder of it, the submarine continued her plunge into the depths. Up in the conning-tower Lockyer clutched a hand-rail, holding on till his nails dug into his flesh. Every sense within him was singing an anthem of praise. His diving torpedo boat was, indeed, proving herself worthy of the confidence he had placed in her.
“Better set her on an even keel now!” he reminded Lieutenant Parry, presently.
Till that moment the officer had forgotten everything but the wonderful fact that the boat was diving—diving as if she had never been used to anything else.