"We're not on the brig, Carl," replied Matt, "but in the periscope room of the Grampus."
"Dot's a funny pitzness! Der lasdt I knew I vas going down der hatch to ged oudt oof der vay oof der shooding. Den someding hit me, und I vent to shleep. Vat vas dot vat hit me, Tick?"
"It was a splinter, matey," replied Dick. "A solid shot tore up the bulwarks of the brig and you were knocked over with a piece of wood."
"I t'ought id vas der site oof a house. How long ago vas dot?"
"About three hours, I should say."
"Shimineddy! Dree hours!"
Carl put up his hands and felt of the bandage about his head.
"How do you feel, Carl?" asked Matt.
"Pooty goot," was the answer; "pedder as some fellers vat vas oudt oof der running for dree hours, I bed you. Vere dit der supmarine come from, Matt?"
Matt explained at some length. Carl's wonder grew as he listened.