"Why, he says that if we turn him over to the authorities at Sandy Point he'll make us more trouble than we can take care of."
"The duffin' old jailbird!" exclaimed Dick angrily. "Tell him that if he talks too much like that we'll toss him overboard, tied as he is."
"He's talking for effect," said Matt. "Take him into the steel room."
"I vish, py shinks," cried Carl, "dot I could dalk Spinnish so I could tell dis feller vat I t'ink oof him!"
When both men had been brought up from below and put into the steel room, Speake had breakfast ready. It was ten o'clock, and rather a late hour for breakfast aboard the Grampus.
Some attempt was made, while the boys were eating, to get some information from the wounded Chilian, but he would not say a word. He ate with his usual heartiness, however, and when the meal was finished, Dick went into the prison chamber and supplied the other Chilians.
No boats were passed, and hour after hour drifted by with the motor singing its song of speed, and the Grampus just "humping herself" through the strait.
Matt kept to the steering himself. He had made a long study of the chart and felt that he was more competent than any of the others to keep the submarine out of danger.
At Cape Negro the scenery began to change, and for the better. The low brushwood became good-sized trees, and there was some character to the shores the submarine was passing.