Governor’s Island must be passed by. He draws near to it, as near as he can venture, and then submerges the Turtle. Alas! something has befallen the compass. It will not guide the rowing under the sea.
Every few minutes he is compelled to rise to the surface to look out from the top of the machine to guide his course, and his track grows very zig-zag through the waters.
Ah! the soldiers at Governor’s Island see the Turtle! Hundreds are gathering upon the parapet to watch its motions, such a curious boat as it is, with turret of brass bobbing up and down, sinking, disappearing—coming to the surface again in a manner wholly unaccountable.
Brave Lee knows his danger, and paddles away for dear life and love of family up in Lyme, eating breakfast quietly now he remembers, not knowing his peril.
Once more he goes up to take a lookout, to see where White-hall slip lies.
A glance at Governor’s Island, and he sees a barge shove off laden with his enemies.
Down again, and up, and he sees it making for him. There is no escape! What can he do!
“If I must die,” he thinks, “they shall die with me!” and he lets go the magazine.
Nearer and nearer—the barge is very close. “If they pick me up they will pick that up,” thinks Lee, “and we shall all be blown to atoms together!”