* * * * *
They were there before morning. The A shore looked much as Bobby
remembered it, except that now there was a raft there; the craft which
Dick had used to float out to the sunken ship on previous visits. The
three of them boarded this, paddled out to the bobbing buoy that marked
the _Cuchulainn's_ watery resting-place.
Dick donned his bulger, weighted his boots, and went below. The sun
rose higher in the east. After a while, green wavelets rolled and Dick
was up again.
"It's no use, Pop. It's like I said. The ship has continued to settle;
the airlock is jammed tight against the bottom. I can't get in any
more."
Pop said, "And I suppose there's no way to attach a drag to the ship,
work it loose?"
"It would take more power than we have." Gloomily.