Matt turned away from the manometer with a remark on his lips, but before the words could be spoken there was a shock, and the submarine shivered and stopped dead.
"Shiminy grickets!" whooped the voice of Carl. "Ve must haf run indo vone oof der moundains in der sea."
"Full speed astern, Gaines," cried Matt.
The blades of the propeller revolved fiercely. The steel hull shook and tugged, but all to no purpose.
Captain Nemo, Jr., sat quietly in his seat and never offered a suggestion. His steady eyes were on Motor Matt.
The king of the motor boys realized that they were in a terrible predicament. Suppose they were hopelessly entangled in the ocean's depths? Suppose there was no escape for them, and the shell of the Grampus was to be their tomb?
These reflections did not shake the lad's nerve. His face whitened a little, but a resolute light gleamed in his gray eyes.
"How are the bow plates, Speake?" he demanded through one of the tubes.
Speake was in the torpedo room.
"Right as a trivet!" answered Speake.