"No; she's sketching. Those are drawing strokes she's making."
Then, looking wholly blank, Jack Benson turned on his heel. He looked first at one mechanism, then at another. Yet, presently, stood close to Lieutenant Commander Kimball's ear.
Only a few words were said, but the naval officer understood instantly.
As Captain Jack turned and went back, Kimball also sauntered along, although he did not appear interested in the submarine boy's movements. Yet it was not long when both appeared before the young Swedish woman.
"Miss Peddensen," murmured the lieutenant commander, "may I see what you are writing?"
The woman looked up, her face composed, her eyes dancing with mirth.
"Why, surely, Mr. Kimball," she replied, laughing. "And very silly stuff you'll find it, too. I have been jotting down my impressions upon finding myself riding under the surface of the sea. I do not handle your English language very well, as you will see."
Mr. Kimball glanced hastily through the three or four pages of rather closely written note paper. It was, as the young woman had stated, a very amateurish composition, in very stilted English.
The naval officer felt a sense of mortification and his face reddened slightly. He had been led to expect that he would find something crime on these sheets of paper. Instead, he scanned a stupid piece of composition.
"I would die of humiliation, to have that read before all these people," murmured the young woman.