"You won't go down now," he called, cheerily. "Keep cool and just
do what I ask you."
The older woman, buoyed up by a greater spread of skirts, had not sunk
below the surface at all by the time that Hal Hastings reached her.
"All just as it ought to be," hailed Hal, blithely. "Don't be at all
afraid, madam. Porpoise is my middle name, and you can't sink while
I have you."
The work of the two Naval officers who had plunged overboard was easier.
Both of the men who had leaped from the yacht's stern rail were able to
swim. Briscoe and McCrea merely reached them and swam alongside.
David Pollard had ropes over the side of the submarine in a jiffy. It
was easy work for seafaring men to climb these ropes over the sloping,
easy side. It was scarcely more difficult to get the women up in
safety.
"Let the ladies go below to the port stateroom," called Mr. Farnum.
"They can disrobe, rub down and get in between blankets in the berths.
Their men folks can take care of 'em."
"I'm the steward, sir, of the 'Selma,' the yacht that's ahead," explained
the man in white duck. "I'll help them below at once, sir."
"We can have hot coffee in seven minutes," Mr. Farnum continued.
"Captain Benson, if you'll take the wheel again, I'll go below and get
to work in the galley."
The white-haired man, in the meantime, was hurriedly making himself
known to Commander Ennerling as Egbert Lawton, owner of the "_Selna_,"
a hundred-and-forty-foot schooner rigged steam yacht.
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