There were two shots over in the yard just now. The three young people heard the discharges, though they paid no heed to them at this critical instant.
Slowly the "Pollard" continued to regain evenness of keel.
Then Hastings, shifting the wrench to another part of the compressed air apparatus, opened the sea-valves of the amidships water tanks to expel water.
Briefly, now, they knew that the "Pollard" had risen. Also, she was resting on an even keel. Hal, bedewed with cold perspiration, darted up the stairs to the conning tower. He looked out, and the first glance told him the "Pollard" was riding the water as she should.
"It's all right—now," he called down, with a strong effort at calmness.
"Jack, what on earth happened that you had to call for help!"
Then he caught sight of his chum, lashed to the stanchion. Hastings's mouth went wide agape with astonishment.
"Jack—how on earth—did Josh Owen—"
"Yes," nodded Benson, quickly. "This was his work. Get me free from this stanchion, won't you?"
Despite his elaborate effort at calmness Hal Hastings shook so that it was some seconds before he could get his knife from a pocket.
"Wait till I steady down," Hal muttered, grimly. "I'm afraid of stabbing you."