inquired Captain Jack, looking in through the engine room door.
"All submarines are alike to me, sir," replied Henderson, rather shortly.
"I guess he"s been too long at the business to have any enthusiasm left, if he ever had any," muttered Benson to himself, and returned to the group in the cabin.
When one is accustomed to the life, and there is confidence in the boat, the main sensation when running along below the water"s surface is one of great monotony. All one can possibly see is the interior of the boat and the persons of his comrades. The longer the run below water is continued the more p.r.o.nounced does the feeling of monotony become.
A well equipped submarine torpedo craft should be easily capable of running twenty-four hours continuously below the water, but the long continued monotony of such a length of time below would be almost certain to drive the officers and crew to a high pitch of nervous tension. Indeed, it is doubtful whether men of ordinary nervous powers could stand such a strain.
Before fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed Jacob Farnum began to tell funny stories to make the time seem to pa.s.s more quickly. After ten minutes he gave this up, for he realized his hearers were becoming bored.
"Whew!" sighed Pollard. "An hour below the surface is certainly as long as twenty-four hours can be anywhere else!"
"I shall be glad when the hour is up," admitted Captain Jack, candidly.
Yet no one proposed cutting the time short by returning to the surface sooner.
Hal Hastings climbed up into the conning tower to take the trick at the wheel for the last twenty minutes. Indeed, occupation of any sort helped to kill some of the time.
"I believe," laughed Jacob Farnum glancing about him, "we all feel just about as though we had lost confidence in the "Pollard"s" ability to rise when the time comes."
From the engine room came a burst of seaman"s song. Bill Henderson was loudly crooning some ditty. Although the listeners could not mike out the words, the song had a gruesome sound that made one"s flesh want to creep.
"Shall I tell him to stow that noise?" asked Captain Jack.
"No," replied Mr. Farnum, though he made a grimace. "If it cheers the fellow any let him have his melody."
Presently Henderson was singing another song. Those in the cabin paid little heed until the sailor"s voice roared out the couplet:
_Down below went the good brig Mary!
She was heard from again--nary!_
"Say, that"s fine!" muttered Eph Somers, in an undertone loaded with sarcasm.
The seaman"s voice reached them now in a hushed undertone of murmured song. Later it swelled out into this gruesome forecastle refrain:
_Where the sharks go to pray,
And the dead men lay--
Where the crabs crawl to bite,
And the eels--_
"Henderson!" rang the young captain"s voice sharply.
"Aye, aye, sir!" came a growl from the engine room.
"Save that song for the deck watch. We want to hear the clock tick."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The seaman was as good as his word. No more of the awesome ditty floated back from him.
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.
Even the breathing air of the "Pollard"s" interior could not be renewed without the wrench. Though each strove to conceal his feelings from the others, grim horror soon had them all in its grip.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LAST GASP OF DESPAIR
"I can"t realize it yet, or believe it. It can"t be true," shuddered David Pollard.
"We surely did," a.s.serted Captain Jack.
"Could you swear that you have seen the wrench since we sailed?" asked Jacob Farnum, white-faced but cool.
"I--I can"t quite say as to that," replied Benson, slowly. "But I will swear that I remember having seen it just a few minutes before we started."
"A _few minutes_--only?" insisted the builder.
"Yes, sir. I"m positive."
"For that matter," continued the builder, "there has been no one on board to-day save those who belong aboard."