"What's the game, Armstrong?" asked Denbigh.
"I'm just knocking up a couple of dummy forelocks," explained the mate, opening his jack-knife once more. "I gave our fellows in the fo'c'sle the tip, and they'll get them in position as soon as the anchors are catted. I'm going to give these a coat of galvanized paint and I'll wager those German chumps won't notice the difference. Next time they drop the hook the pins will snap under the strain, the stocks will slip, and the old hooker will drag at the rate of knots."
"That's a good wheeze, Armstrong," said Denbigh. "But look here. I want you to do me a good turn. Have you the duplicate key of this cabin?"
"Sure I have," replied the mate.
"I'm going to have a shot at getting ashore," declared the sub.
"You'll be a fool if you try," said Armstrong bluntly and emphatically. "With this current running and the hippos barging about you wouldn't stand a dog's chance."
"I'll wait till slack water and take my chance with the hippos," rejoined Denbigh. "If I succeed in getting ashore I'll make my way along the bank until I reach the entrance. I'm rather curious to see what the Pelikan is doing."
"I'm with you," volunteered O'Hara.
"You'll stop here, old man," said Denbigh firmly.
"If I stop you stop too," was the Irishman's equally determined rejoinder. "Look here, old bird; it's not like prowling around the upper-deck. Once ashore we'll be all right. One may be jolly useful in helping the other. Besides, I've a loaded pistol."