"Did y' see that?" Jarvis grabbed Dave by the arm and urged him into a run. "'E went down—the guard, I saw 'im," panted Jarvis. "I saw 'im, then h'I didn't. H'it's the Japs. Listen!"
There came distinctly the sound of a dragging hawser.
"H'it's the Japs; the blooming bloody 'eathen," Jarvis panted. "They're h'after the submarine!"
Dave dragged him behind an ice-covered boulder.
"Quick!" he whispered. "If the submarine goes, we go with her, inside or outside, somewhere. We've got to take the chance."
Darting from ice-pile to ice-pile, they soon reached the water's edge.
There lay the guard, unconscious, an ugly bruise on the side of his head.
And there lay the submarine, silent and closed.
"She's off!" breathed the engineer.
It was true. The craft already showed a line of dark water between her and the shore.
Without hesitation, the old engineer sprang upon her deck and crouched by the conning-tower. Instantly Dave followed him. Their soft skin-boots made no sound. And, as they crouched there, the submarine headed for the channel and then toward the west.
"To the treasure city, h'I'll be bound," whispered Jarvis.