Pulling his cap well down on his head, Matt squeezed into the dark tube.
"Ready?" called Jurgens.
"Yes," answered Matt, almost stifled, pushing his hands against his ears.
"Take a long breath—we're going to close the breech door."
The young motorist breathed deeply, and the next moment there was a clang as the breech was closed.
Instantly there followed a grinding sound as the outer port was opened. The chilling water rushed in. For the space of a heart beat Matt felt the water submerging his cramped body and filling the full length of the tube. Two or three ticks of a watch would have told the duration of the experience, but to Matt it seemed like an eternity.
Then there came a shock that nearly made him unconscious. He thought he was being torn limb from limb by the rushing air. In a twinkling—so swiftly that he scarcely realized it—he was shot from the end of the tube and into the water.
He was a fraction of a second in getting control of his limbs; after that, he began kicking and using his hands to propel himself upward.
Half stunned he came to the surface, and the lights of the wharf swam in his watery eyes. He gasped for breath and then sent up a thrilling cry for help.
The difficulty of keeping himself afloat, with all his water-soaked clothing to hold him down, was a good deal greater than he had thought it would be.