This was Glennie.
"Not exactly a raft," went on Matt, "but a Whitehead torpedo. We met each other at just the right time for me. I'm riding the torpedo, and it's a fine thing for keeping a fellow afloat."
Startled expressions came from those on the submarine. By then the Grampus was so close that her search light had Matt and the Whitehead in full glare. The amazement of the boys on the submarine increased.
"Dot's der plamedest t'ing vat I efer heardt oof!" gasped Carl. "Modor Matt riding on a dorpeto schust like it vas a tree, oder somet'ing like dot! Ach, himmelblitzen!"
Speake guided the Grampus alongside the torpedo.
"Be careful, Speake!" warned Glennie. "If that infernal machine bunts into us, we're gone."
"I'm looking out for that," answered Speake.
"You don't need to worry," called Matt reassuringly. "I wasn't going to take chances with two hundred pounds of high explosive, and one of the first things I did was to fix the priming pin so it wouldn't work."
The Grampus, responding to a signal flashed into the motor room, came to a halt. Dick threw Matt a rope, and he began tying it to one of the loops that encircled the shell of the torpedo.