"Ahoy!" he shouted.
Instantly a distant commotion struck on his ears.
"Ahoy, ahoy!" came an excited answer. "Is that you, Matt?"
"Yes. Shift your wheel a couple of points to starboard and you'll be heading straight for me. Come slow—and don't run me down."
The gleam of light suddenly shifted its position. Aiming directly at Matt, it grew brighter and brighter. Matt was able to make out the dark outlines of the submarine's low deck and conning tower, and to see three figures well forward toward the bow, all clinging to guys and leaning out over the water.
"Are you swimming, old ship?" came the tense voice of Dick Ferral.
"Hardly," Matt answered. "I've been in the water for upward of an hour—and I couldn't have fought the current that long if I had been compelled to swim."
"How you vas keeping off der pottom, Matt?" piped up the relieved voice of Carl.
"There's a sort of a raft under me," Matt laughed.
"A raft? Where the dickens did you get hold of a raft, Matt?"