"Full speed astern—on your life!" he shouted to Dick.
At the same time Matt put the wheel over, hoping to make a turn and get the Grampus on a parallel course with the steamer.
But there was not room, nor time, enough for the turn. Unless the motor stayed the Grampus she was bound to crash into the other vessel.
Dick, however, got the propeller to turning the other way just at the critical moment. The speed of the submarine slackened in answer to the reverse pull, and the stern of the steamer swung by into the gloom with a margin of scarce a dozen feet, leaving the Grampus bobbing in her troubled wake.
"All right now, Dick," called Matt in a voice that shook somewhat. "Drive her ahead."
"What was wrong?" inquired Dick.
"We just missed a collision with a steamer. Your quick work saved us."
Dick gave a long whistle, and went on with his work. "A miss is as good as a hundred fathoms, old ship," he answered lightly.
The ringing orders and quick work with the engine had aroused none of the sleepers. Carl could be heard babbling excitedly in the tank room, but otherwise the ship's complement was quiet.
It was with a distinct feeling of relief that Matt caught the first gleam of day as it was reflected by the periscope. As the morning advanced and brightened, he raised a black smudge, as of steamer smoke, on the port quarter. The smoke was bearing along in the direction the submarine was going, and Matt wondered if that was the steamer they had barely missed running into during the night.