“And six spies, now held captive on land,” Johnny added. “We took enough maps and reports from their hangout, to start a secret service all our own!”
“Good! Great! A real service to your country, young man!”
“But the sub’s still on bottom,” Johnny added, “and we’re trying to raise her now. They—they’ve got one of our good friends on board!”
“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” exclaimed the Major. “And when that sub breaks water—we’ll have three, six-inch guns trained on her. She’ll not escape,” he concluded a little grimly.
* * * * * * * *
For a full quarter-hour, Dave struggled in vain to bring the threaded pipe on the sub, and the screw-cap at the end of the hose, into exact position. At one time he actually turned the cap, and felt it catch. But it would not turn further.
“Started wrong,” he murmured. “Threads are crossed. Must take it off at once.”
Ten seconds of struggle and he was back where he had started. His heart sank. Should he give up? He closed his eyes to think—and saw the professor’s frail, kindly face before him.
“No!” he groaned. “I won’t give up!”
Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered himself into position. The lever rose slowly, and glided forward. He gave it a turn. It stuck. Deftly he twirled his lever; ’round and ’round it spun.