The question came from Ysabel. She had been sitting on the locker in the periscope room, watching eagerly all that had taken place.
"The river winds about a good deal, Ysabel," Matt answered, "and we have probably run into the bank. When the periscope went out of commission it prevented us from keeping track of our course. Ah!" he added, noticing that the propeller was dragging them against the current and away from the bank, and that they were rising toward the surface. "We'll do, now."
"But we can't pass them cannon on the surface," observed Speake.
"There's nothing else for it, Speake," answered Matt, "but a dash straight for the gulf. We'll have to keep to the surface, and if the rebels are able to aim straight, they're going to give us a lively time."
Matt relieved Speake in the conning tower. With his eyes against the lunettes, the king of the motor boys kept keen watch ahead as turn after turn of the river unfolded before the racing boat.
At last they came close to a bend on the opposite side of which Matt knew there was a straightway stretch of water leading to the gulf.
He signaled the motor room for full speed astern once more, then slowed down until the backward pull of the propeller just balanced the rush of the current, the Grampus hanging stationary in mid-stream.
"Gaines," called Matt, "are you well enough to take the engine? I want Dick up here with me."
"Sure," answered Gaines.