“On even keel!” he shouted.  Quickly the submarine regained her even keel, and ran along at eight miles an hour.  Captain Jack Benson read the gauge once more, to make sure that they were fifty feet below the surface.

“And now, we’ve nothing to watch but the clock, until our hour is up,” he laughed, dropping onto one of the seats and stretching.  “Somehow, I notice none of us are as nervous as we were the first time this diving machine went down with us.”

With the electric fans running it was cool and comfortable there, and the air, as pure as that above the ocean until the point of diving, would last for some time without renewing.

With no wind or, wave to buffet, and the steady electric power running the propeller shafts, the sensation was almost that of being aboard a boat at rest.

After they had run along thus, for a few minutes, Eph went up to take the wheel.  As Bill Henderson came down below the young skipper noticed a bright gleam in the seaman’s eyes, though he thought little of it.

Henderson went forward into the engine room, stretching himself out on the leather cushion of one of the seats.

“Ever run on a smoother boat than this below the surface, Henderson?” inquired Captain Jack, looking in through the engine room door.

“All submarines are alike to me, sir,” replied Henderson, rather shortly.

“I guess he’s been too long at the business to have any enthusiasm left, if he ever had any,” muttered Benson to himself, and returned to the group in the cabin.

When one is accustomed to the life, and there is confidence in the boat, the main sensation when running along below the water’s surface is one of great monotony.  All one can possibly see is the interior of the boat and the persons of his comrades.  The longer the run below water is continued the more pronounced does the feeling of monotony become.  A well equipped submarine torpedo craft should be easily capable of running twenty-four hours continuously below the water, but the long continued monotony of such a length of time below would be almost certain to drive the officers and crew to a high pitch of nervous tension.  Indeed, it is doubtful whether men of ordinary nervous powers could stand such a strain.

Before fifteen minutes had passed Jacob Farnum began to tell funny stories to make the time seem to pass more quickly.  After ten minutes he gave this up, for he realized his hearers were becoming bored.

“Whew!” sighed Pollard.  “An hour below the surface is certainly as long as twenty-four hours can be anywhere else!”

“I shall be glad when the hour is up,” admitted Captain Jack, candidly.  Yet no one proposed cutting the time short by returning to the surface sooner.

Hal Hastings climbed up into the conning tower to take the trick at the wheel for the last twenty minutes.  Indeed, occupation of any sort helped to kill some of the time.