“Yes; it was mended just after that fog shut down. We didn’t miss you till then.”
Jack turned to the lighthouse keeper.
“What latitude and longitude is this island in?” he asked.
“27° 31’ N. by 79° 5’ W.“
The reply was written on a scrap of paper and handed to Jack. He flashed it over the waves of space to the operator so anxiously waiting in the cabin of the submarine.
”Why, you are not more than a hundred miles from us,“ came the reply; ”we’ll come there at top speed.”
“Tell him the harbor is on the southeast side of the island,” prompted Tom.
“The harbor is on the southeast side of the island,” flashed Jack. “Anchor off there and we will come out to you.”
“Very good, my boy. Thank heaven, we have found you,” was Mr. Chadwick’s fervent reply. Then; came the good-bye and the keys were closed; but the boys had a vivid mental picture of the scene on the White Shark. How the engines would be relentlessly driven in an effort to break a record to reach Nacassa Island!
“It ought to take them about four hours to get here,” Jack figured.