He was interrupted by another blow, fully as severe as the first. But this stroke came from the side and not from forward, and hurled the submarine over so far that every loose article slammed to starboard, and it seemed as though the boat must surely turn turtle.
"Start the turbines, Clackett!" roared Matt through the tank-room tube; "empty the ballast tanks!"
"Sorry to report, Matt," came the instant response of Clackett, "that the turbines are disabled an' won't work."
Matt was astounded.
"Then empty the tanks by compressed air!" he cried. "Sharp's the word, Clackett!"
The hiss of air, fighting with the water in the tanks, was heard. At once the boat began to ascend and presently the slap of waves against the outer shell proved that they were on the surface.
"Take the wheel, Dick," called Matt, and leaped up the iron ladder into the conning tower.
The lunettes, or little windows in the tower, were frosted with spindrift, and Matt threw open the hatch and pushed head and shoulders over the top.
"Great spark-plugs!" he cried; "a whale!"
"A bull cachalot!" exclaimed Dick from below, staring through the periscope.