Mr. Chadwick was the last to enter the craft. As he did so, he pressed the controlling button and the panel slid into place with a metallic clang. The interior of the White Shark was filled with the buzz and hum of machinery, her lights glowed brightly and the air was as sweet and fresh as that of the outside world.
Considering the power of her engines and the amount of machinery within the metal hull, there was wonderfully little vibration. The craft glided along almost as smoothly as a limited express. But before long, as they left the quiet waters of the little bay, the diving craft began to pitch and roll to the motion of the Atlantic swell.
Mr. Chadwick was standing beside the inventor at the steering device, Jack and Tom, of course, were in the engine room, while Silas and Jupe were occupied in putting everything to rights in the cook’s galley, this and the storeroom forming Jupe’s department.
“Well, the time has come for the White Shark to make her first dive,” announced Mr. Dancer at length.
The inventor was keeping rigid control over himself; but, despite his efforts to force a firm voice his lips quavered as he pronounced his decision.
“Very well. I think we are all ready, Dancer,” responded Mr. Chadwick, who appeared as cool as an icicle. In one hand he held his watch, for it was the intention of the heads of this unique experience to record in minute detail all that occurred on the White Shark’s first voyage.
“I’m going to give the signal now, Chadwick.”
“Whenever you see fit,” was the response.
The inventor’s lean, nervous fingers flew to the engine-room signaling appliance.
“Dive!”