"We're in luck, anyhow," exulted Dick. "This old flugee is as trim and steady as ever. Now that we're down near the bottom we'll cruise a little and see what we can discover. We've got an hour or two, I guess, before Matt and Glennie get back to the landing and want to come aboard. Slow speed, Gaines," he called.
Hurrying up into the conning tower, Dick pressed his eyes against the forward lunettes. The trail of light, reaching out through the lunette, illuminated the murky waters for several yards beyond the point of the submarine's bow.
There was a commotion in the depths, and fishes were darting in all directions.
Steering from the ladder, Dick headed the Grampus toward the north. They had not gone far before Dick saw something which made him rub his eyes.
"Am I doing a calk," he muttered, "or are these lamps of mine making a monkey's fist of their work? Strike me lucky! Carl! Look into the periscope!"
A vague shape was passing through the gleam of the search light. It looked like a huge cigar, its pointed end tilted slightly upward. At the rear of the object there was a flurry of water.
"Id's a vale!" boomed Carl, whose mind seemed to be running on whales that day.
"It's another submarine," gasped Speake, "that's what it is. I wonder if Matt didn't know there was another submarine in these waters?"
"Watch!" cried Dick excitedly. "What's that behind the thing?"