It flashed over Matt, in a twinkling, that the crew from the steamer were still of the opinion that they could destroy the submarine, and that they were hastening to get aboard the craft in order to carry out their nefarious designs.
Without losing a moment, Matt drew back into the tower and closed and barred the hatch. Lurching down the ladder he called desperately to his companions. Speake and Dick were sitting up, staring blankly at each other. When Matt appeared they fixed their bewildered eyes on him.
"Wake up!" cried Matt, springing to Dick and shaking him vigorously. "Get your wits together, Dick, and be quick about it."
"Keelhaul me!" mumbled Dick. "There was dope in that coffee."
"That's right," seconded Speake, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
"Never mind that now," went on Matt hurriedly. "Enemies are upon us! That steamer you saw in the periscope, Speake, is hove to a little way from us, and our motor is slowed until we have scarcely steerage-way. A boat is coming toward the Grampus, and we shall be boarded before you can say Jack Robinson. We've got to make a dive for safety. Rouse yourselves, both of you! To the motor, Dick! Speake, attend to the tanks—fill them for a twenty-foot submersion. You——"
Something struck against the side of the submarine, and a jar followed as of some one springing to the deck.
"There they are!" shouted Matt. "Below with you—quick!"
Speake and Dick got unsteadily to their feet. Matt's ominous words alarmed them, and did more than anything else to clear the fog from their minds. Making their way stumblingly through the door they lowered themselves down the hatch.
Several more ringing thumps on the deck proved to Matt that others had come aboard. Presently there was a banging on the hatch cover.