Blindly and doggedly he continued his battle with the waves, peering into the northeast from time to time, in the hope of seeing the search light of the Grampus. He did not see the search light, but he saw something else lying sluggishly in the water not a great distance from where he was.
"A log!" he thought.
Under the impression that fate had thrown across his path a bit of drift from the mainland, he swam to the object and laid hold of it as it heaved and ducked on the placid waves.
It was not a log. As he put out one hand it came in contact with smooth, wet metal. The object was a long cylinder, blunt at one end and pointed at the other.
"A torpedo!" ran his thought, as he hung over the rounded object with one arm and supported himself in the water. "Who fired the torpedo?" was the question he asked himself.
He had leisure now for a little reflection. No strength was required to keep himself afloat, for the steel cylinder supported him.
As he hung there, lifting and falling with the long, deadly tube, his thoughts harked back to the queer object he, and Dick, and Carl had seen in the water. The result of his reflections paralyzed him.
Some mysterious enemy had launched the torpedo at the Grampus!
Had the infernal machine struck the submarine, the craft and every one aboard would have been torn to pieces.
A slow horror pulsed through Motor Matt's veins.