"Give it up," answered Matt, with a mystified frown. "Probably we shall know, before long. Just now, though, we've got to think of the captain and send off a doctor to the Grampus."
Turning away, he and Dick walked rapidly to the shore and on into the town.
[CHAPTER IV.]
THE AMERICAN CONSUL.
"There's a bobby," cried Dick, catching sight of a policeman, "a real London bobby, blue-and-white striped cuffs and all. We'll bear down on him, Matt, and ask the way to the American consul's."
The policeman was dark-skinned, but kind and obliging for all that. Drawing the boys out into the street, he pointed to a low, white building with the American flag flying over the door. There were palms and trees around the building, and a middle-aged man in white ducks was sitting in a canvas chair on the veranda. He was Mr. Hays Jordan, and when the boys told him they were from the submarine Grampus, the consul got up and took them by the hand.
Matt lost not a moment in telling of the captain's illness, and of his desire for a doctor and of comfortable lodging ashore. The consul seemed disappointed by the news.
"I reckon that puts a stop to the work that brought the Grampus here," said the consul.
"Not at all," replied Matt. "The Grampus is at the service of the government within an hour, if necessary."