“What a shame!” cried Stanhope. “We have now lost track of the silver whale.”
“It is hard luck,” agreed Frank.
“We must make the best of it.”
“Of course. First to get rid of this encumbrance and then to go on.”
Frank Reade, Jr., was not the one to be puzzled by a contingency of this kind—at least, he could not be baffled.
He had soon hit upon an expedient.
From the engine-room he had procured a long coil of wire; then he donned some rubber gloves and connected the wire with the dynamos.
Enough of the current could be thus furnished to kill a dozen men.
Frank handled the wire carefully.
The feelers of the octopus were pressed against the steel frame of the pilot-house. Frank made a clever circuit, throwing the current suddenly into the steel frame.