Blinded by the swirling water, the youth dived headlong for the opening in a mad effort to escape the flood and get below that he might shut off the crushed turret from the rest of the submarine and hold the deluge in check.

“Close the steel partition!” he yelled to Ted as he leaped for the opening.

His chum, grasping the air lever, rolled shut the heavy curtain, but in such precipitate haste that it caught Jack just above the knees and pinned him fast.  There he hung head down with the water pouring in all around his body.

“Pull me through, Ted!  Hurry!  Pull me through!” gasped the young executive officer, as he winced in pain from the smashing blow dealt his limbs by the steel partition.

Grasping his chum under the armpits, with the water splashing in his face, Ted braced himself against the side of the control chamber and pulled with all his might.  Inch by inch Jack’s body was dragged through the aperture, Navigating Officer Binns leaping to the assistance of Ted and hauling away until finally Jack’s limbs cleared the opening and the steel partition closed entirely, shutting off the volume of water above.

“Are you hurt, chum?” asked Ted.

“Yes, but don’t mind me,” came the reply, as Jack sprawled out with both legs hanging limp and useless.  Gritting his teeth to stifle a groan, Jack drew himself up into a sitting posture.  By his side lay McClure unconscious.  All around them flowed water, working its way fore and aft through the submarine.

“Go aft, Ted; find out how things are in the engine room,” directed the injured executive officer.  “And you, Binns, make an inspection forward.”

The two officers hurried to make an investigation, returning soon to report that the boat had not suffered from the depth bomb so far as could be ascertained except for the damage to the conning tower.  Jack directed that the Monitor be submerged until she rested on the bottom of the channel.  The vessel dropped away until it came to rest shortly with the depth dial showing one hundred and forty-two feet.

McClure, stunned by a blow on the head, sustained when he was hurled against the side of the conning tower, was carried away still unconscious to his bunk.  Jack, his limbs bruised, torn and partially paralyzed, insisted upon remaining at his post of duty and directed the dressing of his wounds.

“I’ll be all right in a little bit,” he murmured in response to inquiries.

Ten minutes passed, twenty and then a half hour, while the crippled submarine lay inactive with a foot of water in her hull and her commanding officers seriously injured.  And then came an added horror when the electric lights throughout the vessel began slowly to fade away into darkness.  Chief Engineer Blaine came hurrying into the control chamber: 

“Batteries short circuited by the saltwater!” he exclaimed in a tone of dismay.