While those in the periscope room were engaged in this, Glennie was passing his man down the hatch, and Dick was getting the other one forward.
By the time Dick's man had followed Glennie's, Carl and Speake had dragged the other three close to the submarine. A wave threw them with crushing force against the plates. One was rendered unconscious—Matt could not tell, in the lightning glare, but that he was killed. As his limp body slipped downward over the rounded deck plates, Matt jumped for it, and wrapped it in his arms.
A smother of water engulfed the Grampus. When she shook herself free, Glennie and Dick had the two men on the other line, and Matt was still clinging to the one he had rescued.
Glennie and Dick passed their half-drowned charges to the safe regions below, and Dick helped Matt with the last of the five unfortunates.
In some manner, the boys could never tell just how, they succeeded in getting the man below deck and in following him themselves. Matt, who was the last to leave, was so nearly fagged that he had not the strength to close the hatch. Carl bounded up the iron ladder, got the hatch in place, and slid down again.
Matt, Dick, and Glennie, utterly exhausted, were lying on the floor among those whom they had rescued. Water, which had entered the open hatch, was churning back and forth and splashing through scuppers into the tank room. Clackett had set a pump to work, and was ejecting the water as rapidly as possible.
"Were any of the port plates sprung by that collision with the wreck, Carl?" inquired Matt, rousing himself. "Did all this water come down the hatchway?"
"Efery pit oof id, Matt," declared Carl. "Clackett looked ofer der blates, und he say dot dey vas all righdt."
"Then submerge until the periscope ball is awash," went on Matt. "These poor fellows can't stand this knocking around."
The violent rolling and pitching of the boat was throwing the five men in every direction.