Lighting another match, carefully selecting his saw, and then lighting still another match, he took a look at the padlock, trying to find some portion of the ring where the metal was more slender. The saw was intended for use on metals. After he had made a sufficient notch in the ring, young Benson was able to work, much of the time, in darkness.
"Blessings on that mandolin," chuckled this industrious young human beaver. "If it wasn't for their jolly old twang-twang those Italians might hear my fairy buzz-saw at work."
Yet, though he progressed, what a fearful length of time this task appeared to take!
"And, if it turns out that there's another padlock in place on the outside, this will be just another case of love's labor lose," sighed the boy.
Occasionally, when the mandolin sounds ceased for a few moments, Benson rested, too. It would never do to take the risk of having his slight noise overheard.
At last! The saw went through the ring, proclaiming the task all but finished. First, with trembling fingers, the submarine boy replaced the saw in its case. Then, with another tough little tool, he started patiently to bend the severed ends of the ring metal sufficiently far apart. In this he succeeded finally.
Removing the padlock, he let the hasp fall away from the staple. On the floor above the mandolin was twanging merrily, the voices of the Italians rising somewhat in their song.
With his pulses throbbing, Jack Benson essayed to raise the bulkhead. Glory! It rose! A moment later Captain Jack Benson was out in the open, under the cloudy skies.
No time did he lose there, however. Stealing softly for the woods, he sped on into them. Nor did he cease his hurried gait until he had covered at least a quarter of a mile.
"Not much risk of their finding me, now, even if they're wise at last," reflected the submarine boy, slowing down to an easier walk.