'That's no fish,' he muttered. 'That's no fish.' Then raising himself as high as he could out of the water he sent a sharp cry for help pealing through the darkness.
'Hallo! Hallo! Who's that?'
Never had Ken been happier to hear the sound of a human voice.
'Three survivors from the "Maid of Sker,"' he answered. 'Our boat's upset.'
'Hang on!' came the quick reply. 'We'll have you out in a jiffy.'
There came low voiced orders, the low purr of an engine, and a low dark bulk topped by a curious square-looking turret came gliding towards them.
'What is it?' muttered Roy in a dazed tone.
'A submarine,' Ken answered gladly. 'That's her conning tower. Here she comes. Hang on to Gill, or the wash will take him off.'
A moment later, and the long gray craft swam up right alongside of the dinghy. It was the most beautiful bit of steering imaginable. A hand reached out and pulled the dinghy close against the hull, and strong arms gripped and lifted the three aboard.
Ken felt himself swung gently up the conning tower, then he was lowered with equal ease and skill through the open hatch. Within an incredibly short time he was flat on a mattress laid on the throbbing steel floor of the submarine.