"Yes, sir; has she communicated?"
"She apparently meant to, but changed her mind. Do you see something floating about two and a half miles dead to windward of us?"
The sub brought his telescope to bear in the direction indicated. It took him some time to locate the object, as it was almost in the reflected glare of the early morning sun.
"I have it, sir," he said.
"What do you make of it?"
"Cannot say, sir. Wreckage of some sort."
"It is," added Whittinghame. "More, it is the wreck of the flying-boat, and that rascal Durango has eluded us again."
"Surely he didn't survive the fall?"
"He did. I saw him boarding yonder tramp. Now, this is what I want you to do: take a compass bearing of the wreckage, and observe the direction and rate of our drift. In an hour Parsons hopes to have the after-propellers working. We will then forge ahead and investigate Durango's flying-boat. Do not say a word to any of the others until after breakfast. I know them: they would throw aside any idea of food until we are fit to get under way; and, with all due respect to their zeal, I am no believer in a man working on an empty stomach."
In exactly forty-nine minutes from the time that the Captain left the motor-room, Parsons had the engines ready for work. The fault, once discovered, was easy to remedy.