"Come up here," he said, "and take a look." Felton climbed to the small platform on which the captain stood. Just before him was the eyepiece of the periscope, and, at a sign from the captain, he peeped into it. Pictured on the lens was the dismantled wreck of the Argyll, down by the head, a helpless, sinking wreck.
"She's floating on five compartments," said the captain. "I just filled the sixth, and I think we'll fill two at once this time. By the way, what did you fellows butt in for? It was my fight. I hit her last night, and blew up the forward magazine; then I lost her in the dark."
"But say," answered Felton, "which side are you on in this mix? You blew up the turret, you say, and the airship destroyed her. But the crew of that airship displayed mortal fear of you, and jumped overboard at sight of you."
"Exactly. They would have gone off at a tangent if they hadn't. It's better to die on your planet than to become a comet for all eternity."
"Like the airship. I see. But how did you do it, if I may ask?"
"I reversed his polarity, that's all. See that? Look, and listen."
The captain turned a lever, and a dynamo nearby began to revolve, while an arc lamp suspended from above glowed, glistened, and sparkled, as the current passed through the carbons. Soon it began a curious, musical buzzing, and the captain shut it off.
"Merely an alternating current through an arc," he explained. "But the electric impulses sent out by that singing arc are of a wave length and frequency produced by no other means. They are just right to turn his two magnetic poles into one, and—away he goes."
"I don't understand. Yes, I understand that you might reverse his polarity, or combine it, as you say, by some wireless method. But, which side are you on?"
"The side of the Lord."