OFF ON THE STRANGEST CRAFT ON RECORD.
It was not long after the start, that word was sent on deck by means
of the speaking tube located near the panel, that it was time to come
below. The flag was lowered and one by one those who had lingered on
the whale-like back of the diving boat descended.
Mr. Chadwick was the last to enter the craft. As he did so, he pressed
the controlling button and the panel slid into place with a metallic
clang. The interior of the _White Shark_ was filled with the buzz and
hum of machinery, her lights glowed brightly and the air was as sweet
and fresh as that of the outside world.
Considering the power of her engines and the amount of machinery
within the metal hull, there was wonderfully little vibration. The
craft glided along almost as smoothly as a limited express. But before
long, as they left the quiet waters of the little bay, the diving craft
began to pitch and roll to the motion of the Atlantic swell.
Mr. Chadwick was standing beside the inventor at the steering device,
Jack and Tom, of course, were in the engine room, while Silas and Jupe
were occupied in putting everything to rights in the cook’s galley,
this and the storeroom forming Jupe’s department.
“Well, the time has come for the _White Shark_ to make her first dive,”
announced Mr. Dancer at length.
The inventor was keeping rigid control over himself; but, despite his
efforts to force a firm voice his lips quavered as he pronounced his
decision.
“Very well. I think we are all ready, Dancer,” responded Mr. Chadwick,
who appeared as cool as an icicle. In one hand he held his watch, for
it was the intention of the heads of this unique experience to record
in minute detail all that occurred on the _White Shark’s_ first voyage.
“I’m going to give the signal now, Chadwick.”
“Whenever you see fit,” was the response.
The inventor’s lean, nervous fingers flew to the engine-room signaling
appliance.
“DIVE!”
That was the word that flashed up before the boys’ eager, waiting eyes.
“It’s come at last,” murmured Jack.
As for Tom, he could say nothing. But his heart seemed to be beating
till it shook his frame. His face was pale under its wholesome tan.
As Jack’s hands sought the levers, Tom clutched his comrade’s shoulder
with a grip that almost made Jack flinch.
“Steady, Tom, old boy,” warned Jack, noting his comrade’s agitation.
“I-I’m all right, Jack, b-b-b-but it _is_ kind of creepy, you know,
isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t had time to think,” Jack began, when he broke
off with a cry.
“Tom—Tom, old boy, give us your hand! She’s—she’s——”
“_Going down!_”
The words broke from Tom’s lips with a sort of sigh.
Then came a shout from Jack.
“Hold fast, all!”
It was well that he gave the cry. That is, it was well for Silas and
Jupe. As for the rest, they knew what to expect and had gripped fast to
some handhold.
Jack glanced at the engine room indicator.
The _White Shark_ was being driven toward the bottom of the sea at an
angle of thirty-five degrees. When it is considered that a grade of
twenty-five degrees is called steep, one can form some appreciation of
the position of things on board.
From the galley came suddenly a yell of anguish and a sound as of
smashing crockery. In the cabins, loose articles could be heard
tumbling about, while a deep voice boomed out:
“Shiver my timbers, but this beats heavy weather on the old _Ohio_!”
Jupe’s voice rang out in anguish:
“Gollyumption, dere goes dat buf’ly soup I had fo’ suppah! Good land
alive, de butter’s done got mixed up wid de onions! Dar goes anudder
plate! Say, lemme off’n dis cantamperous contraption ob a floating
oil-stove!”
“Jupe’s in trouble,” grinned Jack, “how do _you_ like it, Tom?”
“Um—um, well, I suppose it’s all right, Jack.”
“Well, we’re going down, aren’t we?”
“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.
“Seventy fathoms.”
“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.”
“But if we ever went too deep?”
“We’d be crushed flat as a pancake.”
“Humph!” was Tom’s sole remark.
In the face of what Jack had just said, he could think of nothing more
suitable to reply than this unsatisfactory exclamation!