"W'ot is that?" cried several apprehensive voices.
Caradoc stood erect by the rail, watching this new development.
"Malone," he called to the man hidden on the bridge, "what speed can
this boat make?"
"Hi've got as 'igh as eighteen knots out of 'er, sir."
"Signal 'full speed ahead' and call down to the firemen for all the
steam we can carry."
"Very well, sir."
Caradoc looked at the light for a minute or two longer and then remarked
to Madden.
"They couldn't have repaired that submarine for several hours longer.
They must have had two."
CHAPTER XIX
CHASED BY A SUBMARINE
Wheezing, coughing, shaking in every plate, vomiting into the sky a
trail of smoke that extended clear to the eastern horizon, the
_Vulcan_ shouldered her way at top speed across the mazy lanes of
the Sargasso. The tug had come a queer crooked path across that sea, and
the lay of her smoke trail down the pearly glow of dawn still marked her
tortuous course.
Not a breath of air stirred, but the speed of the vessel sent a breeze
whipping over the poop of the steamer where a group of battered men
stared fixedly over the long frothing path of the screw. Several of the
group wore bandages, two, unable to stand, sat in steamer chairs, all
had the pale faces of all-night watchers, but every eye in the crowd
scanned with feverish intensity the spangled ocean over which they fled.
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