"The last chance to save us!" repeated Jack.
"I know it," came, breathlessly, as the dripping Hal dropped down the manhole. He did not even wait to make use of the stairs.
By a fortunate impulse Grace Desmond fell back as young Hastings appeared. Hal's right hand shot out, gripping the wrench. The "Pollard" gave a surge that all aboard believed to be her final one.
Yet Hal hung to his post, resolved to go down trying.
There was a hiss of compressed air. The "Pollard" didn't quite make the death plunge. Then she seemed to go, ever so little, toward a more level keel.
"I—believe—I've got her!" cried Hal Hastings.
A moment or two later he felt sure of it. He gave a cheer to ease his pent-up feelings, then suddenly gasped:
"Jack, do you know how much compressed air there is?"
"No," replied Benson, blankly.
"Heaven grant there's enough for what we must do," prayed Hal, aloud.