A few moments later the craft was in motion, not before, however, she was struck another blow, but only a glancing one.
"We're puzzling them!" cried Tom.
Having done all that was possible for the time being, Tom hurried to the observation chamber, followed by the others. There Tom switched on the powerful lights. For a moment nothing was to be seen but the swirling, green water. Then, suddenly, a great shape came into view of the glass windows, followed by another.
"Whales!" cried Tom Swift. "And the largest I've ever seen."
It was true. Two immense specimens of the cetacean species were in front of the submarine, one on either bow, evidently much puzzled over the glaring lights. They were bow-heads, and immense creatures, and it would not take many blows from them to disable even a stouter craft than was the submarine.
But the motion of the undersea ship, the bright lights, and possibly the feel of her steel skin was evidently not to the liking of the sea monsters. One, indeed, came so close to the glass that he seemed about to try to break it, but, to the relief of all, he veered off, evidently not liking the look of what he saw.
Just once again, before the craft reached the surface, was there another blow, this time at the stern. But it was a parting tap, and none others followed.
"They've gone!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, as the whales vanished from the sight of those in the forward cabin.
"Have you any adequate protection against these monsters of the deep?" asked Mr. Hardley in a fault-finding voice. "I should think you would have taken precautions, Swift!"
He had dropped the formal "Mr." and seemed to treat Tom as an inferior.