The brave Celt had seen their distress and was coming to their rescue.
“Begorra, Misther Frank!” he cried, when the two divers were once more safely aboard. “I thought it was the end av yez. May the Howly Vargin be praised, yez are all roight an’ safe!”
“Well; I thought our friend, Clifford, was surely done for,” said Frank, “but by the best of good fortune he is still with us.”
“Which happy fact I owe to Mr. Reade,” declared Clifford. “I shall never forget it.”
The matter was dropped now, however, for another important one. The question as to the fate of the Dolphin was now brought up.
Frank was thoughtful for some while, and finally said:
“Wait until to-morrow. Then I will be able to decide.”
That night few in the party slept very soundly; at an early hour Pomp had a steaming breakfast ready.
All were rather sober as they sat around the table.
“Well,” said Frank, “if we are doomed to spend the rest of our days at the bottom of the sea we can count upon extending our span of life to a limit of about two years.”