“Jupe’s in trouble,” grinned Jack, “how do _you_ like it, Tom?”
“Um—um, well, I suppose it’s all right, Jack.”
“Yes, but how about coming up? Hullo, Mr. Dancer’s put her on an even keel. How deep are we?”
Jack glanced at the depth indicator on the metal wall above him.
“Gracious, four hundred and twenty feet!”
“That’s right, but the _White Shark_ is constructed to bear at least ten times the amount of pressure we are withstanding.”
In the face of what Jack had just said, he could think of nothing more suitable to reply than this unsatisfactory exclamation!
The signal, twice repeated, crashed out from the bronze gong under the engine room telegraph.
Tom gazed anxiously at the young chief engineer of the diving boat as he put the question.
The two boys exchanged glances. This meant that the instant had arrived that was to prove the success or failure of the invention. Once more Jack’s agile fingers busied themselves with levers and wheels.
“You have set the propellers to a rising position?”
“Yes, Tom; a few seconds now will tell the story.”
The _White Shark_, which had been forging ahead on an even keel almost on the bed of the ocean, continued to proceed in that manner for a short time. Then, as the twin propellers affixed to her sides “bit” into the water, she slowly raised her bow toward the surface.
The gong resounded again. But this time it was not an order recorded on the face of the signaling dial that it indicated, but a summons to the speaking tube.
Jack sprang toward the bell-shaped mouth of the tube.
“Hullo! Engine room?” came back the query.
“It’s Mr. Dancer,” breathed Jack over his shoulder; and then—“Yes, sir!”
“Congratulations. The _White Shark_ is a success.”
“I knew it, sir; I felt it, that is. We’ve done a wonderful thing.”
“You may well say that, Jack,” came another voice, that of his father; “I’m proud of you, lad. It was your skill that did it.”
“Father, I——” began Jack, when something occurred that placed a check on his further speech.
He had barely time to seize a handhold to keep from being flung off his feet to the metal floor of the engine room.
The exclamations recorded above came in a volley from Tom, Jupe, Silas, and Jack.
The progress of the diving craft had been suddenly checked. Preceding the startling cessation of motion there had come a grinding, rasping shock that ran through the submarine’s structure from stem to stern. The boys had only time to exchange glances when there came a summons from the signal gong.