"Is it you, Stump?" said Mont, recognizing the voice of his faithful friend.
"At your service, Master Mont. I have been swimming about everywhere looking for you ever since that submarine beast swamped us. Ugh! What a terrible brute it is! It laughs at bullets, and cares no more for sinking a ship than I should for kicking over a stool."
"Is no one saved?"
"I can't tell any more than you; all I thought of was to swim after you."
The situation was as terrible a one as can well be imagined.
Those on board the vessel were in too much trouble, if they were yet living, to think of the perils of the others who had courted destruction by going in the boat to attack the monster.
Nor would Captain Savage feel very friendly disposed toward them, because it was Dr. Woddle's shot that caused the slumbering creature to rush madly upon the vessel.
Mont began to calculate the chances of safety. If the ship had not foundered the crew might lower another boat in the morning to search for them. The sun would not rise for about eight hours. Could they exist so long in the water without fainting or becoming cramped by the sluggish circulation of the blood?
In vain he tried to pierce the dense darkness which surrounded them, for now the moon had disappeared, and bad weather seemed imminent again.
About two o'clock in the morning our hero was seized with extreme fatigue; his limbs were a prey to an agonizing cramp.