The time yet to remain below surface narrowed down to ten minutes, then to five. At last, tick by tick, the time wound by until the full hour of submergence had been finished.
"Henderson!" shouted Captain Jack, leaping to his feet, "stand by to empty the water tanks!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" responded the big sailor, coming out of the engine room. He went to the proper rack, then turned to ask:
"Where's the wrench, sir?"
"Why, there in its rack, of course," cried Captain Benson, leaping forward. "You're looking at it."
"I'm looking at the rack, sir, but I don't see no wrench, sir," replied
Henderson, calmly.
"What's that? The wrench mislaid?" demanded Jacob Farnum, also leaping forward and staring with dismayed eyes into the rack. "Oh, it has dropped—somewhere—or—been mislaid."
In another instant there was a frenzied search for that invaluable wrench, without which the "Pollard" could not be brought to the surface. So frantically did they search that they frequently got in each other's way. Hal Hastings shut off the speed and came tumbling down below to aid.
"Don't get excited, friends," begged Jacob Farnum, in a voice that shook. "Of course we're going to find the wrench. It's aboard—somewhere—of course it is. Now, let's begin a systematic search."
In a short time every conceivable nook and corner had been explored. Though it seemed absurd that the wrench should be lost, yet a fearful conviction began to settle down over the startled ones that it would not be found in time.