"Stop that man from talking," jibed another severely.
Jack had most of the time clear for instruction, after that, as few of the young men cared to talk. But at last another ventured to inquire:
"How much of the time is gone?"
"Nineteen minutes," Benson answered, after a look at his watch.
"O-o-o-oh!" The response came in a chorus that sounded like a protest.
Then passed what seemed like an eternity of seconds. All the time the electric motors ran, almost noiselessly. The slight tremor imparted to the craft by the propeller shafts seemed like an ominous rumbling. Jack's voice had ceased. No one felt like talking. From time to time Skipper Jack glanced at his watch; his face, expressionless, gave no clue to the eagerly watching naval cadets. But at last young Benson's hand reached toward the compressed air apparatus.
"A-a-a-ah!" It was meant for a cheer, but it sounded more like a groan.
Up above, in the tower, the midshipman bending over the compass, suddenly realized that daylight was filtering down through the water. In another instant the midshipman glanced up to find the tower above the surface.
Yet Cadet Midshipman Osgoodby gasped as though he had intended to scream instead. For, right ahead, her great bows looming up in the path of the little submarine, was a big liner, coming straight toward them!