Only a faint light penetrated through the
porthole into my cabin. The submarine, without the least rolling or
pitching, sped silently through the deeps.
I had seen with what rapidity, and also with what ease the
transformation of the "Terror" had been made. No less easy and rapid,
perhaps, would be her change to an automobile.
And now what would this Master of the World do? Presumably he would
change his course, unless, indeed, he preferred to speed to land, and
there continue his route along the roads. It still seemed more
probable, however, that he would turn back toward the west, and after
distancing the destroyers, regain the Detroit River. Our submersion
would probably only last long enough to escape out of cannon range,
or until night forbade pursuit.
Fate, however, had decreed a different ending to this exciting chase.
Scarce ten minutes had passed when there seemed some confusion on
board. I heard rapid words exchanged in the engine room. The steadily
moving machinery became noisy and irregular. At once I suspected that
some accident compelled the submarine to reascend.
I was not mistaken. In a moment, the semi-obscurity of my cabin was
pierced by sunshine. The "Terror" had risen above water. I heard
steps on the deck, and the hatchways were re-opened, including mine.
I sprang up the ladder.
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