"A ten-foot submergence, Clackett!" he called.
The pounding of waves against the hull caused a dull roaring throughout the boat, almost deadening the "ay, ay" that came from Clackett.
Presently, as the ballast tanks slowly filled, the Grampus sank until only five feet of the periscope mast was out of water. The motion of the boat was perceptibly easier, but steering by periscope was difficult. Huge waves flung themselves at the ball that capped the mast and thus sponged out the view that should have been reflected on the mirror. Only at intervals could a view above the surface be obtained.
Matt called Dick and had him lash himself at the periscope table, thus leaving Speake free to attend to the wheel.
"Keelhaul me!" muttered Dick. "It's as black as your hat all around us. And lightning! I'm a Fiji if I ever saw it so sharp."
"Can you raise Cape Virgins?" queried Matt.
"I can see something off to starboard that looks as though it might be the cape."
"Well, after we once get around that we'll be in quieter waters and will submerge for the night. Keep your eyes peeled, Dick. This would be a bad time to collide with some steamer just leaving the strait."
Matt, braced on the locker, fell to examining the chart again. While he was at it, a yell of amazement and consternation came from Dick.
The shout lifted Matt off the locker.