But now they were sinking rapidly.  Then came the throb of the pumps forcing out the water from the compartments aft.  Slowly the sickening sinking of their ship was checked.

“Will she rise again?” asked the Doctor, white-faced but cool.

“I think so, sir,” responded Dave.

Dave watched a gauge with anxious eyes.  The pumps were still working.  Would the craft stand the test?  Would she rise?

One, two, three minutes he watched the dial; then a fervent “Thank God!” escaped his lips.  The sub was rising again.

But once more his brow was clouded.  What awaited them on the surface?

“One more,” he muttered, “just one more, and we are done for.”

Every man aboard the submarine had a different explanation for the bomb which had disabled their craft.  Jones, the electrician, had just finished reading the adventures of a young British gunner in these very waters somewhere back in the eighties.  The story had to do with the defense of seal fisheries against the Japs, and Jones was sure that a Japanese seal-poaching boat had bombed them.  McPherson, who had seen active service chasing German subs, was certain they had encountered one of the missing U boats.  Wilder believed it had been a Russian cruiser, and, of course, Jarvis blamed it to the “bloomin’ ’eathen.”

The first and third of these theories could be discarded at once, since no craft was to be seen when last they submerged, and a cruiser or schooner of any size could scarcely have escaped their attention.

As for Dave, he had another theory, but was too busy to talk about it.  He had read a great deal regarding the Eskimos and their methods of hunting.

Meanwhile the submarine was rising slowly toward the surface.  She was coming up with her stern tilted high this time, for the water in her forward compartments disturbed her balance.  Every heart beat fast as the water above grew lighter.

“McPherson, be ready to throw open the hatch the minute we are clear,” commanded Dave.  “All life belts on?” he asked.

“Aye, aye, sir!” came in chorus.

“Rifles?”

“At hand, sir.”

“Ready then.”

There came a sudden burst of light, the creak of hinges, the thud of the hatch, then the thud of feet as the men rushed for the deck.

In another moment the crew found themselves outside clinging to the tilted and unsteady craft, blinking in the sunlight, and seeing—?  Principally white ice and dark water.  Off in the distance, indeed, was an innocent-looking native skin-boat.  There were, perhaps, ten natives aboard.

“Thought so,” chuckled Dave.

“You thought what?” demanded the Doctor.  Every eye was turned on the young commander.

“Thought we’d been shot by natives with a whale-gun.  Took us for a whale, don’t you see?  Whale-gun throws a bomb that explodes inside the whale and kills him.  In this case, it exploded against us and raised the very old dickens.  Here they come.  You’ll see I’m right.”