“It will be worse if you don’t lie down, Pennington!” snapped the medical officer. “If you and Commander Winslow didn’t have leather lungs and cast iron constitutions, we’d be sewing you up in canvas right now, for a sea burial. You two got the biggest dose of smoke!” “But Mercedes—I mean, Miss Colby—she must have been gassed too!” cried Don Winslow, from the other berth. “Is she coming out of it yet, Doctor? Tell me the truth....” “Hush, lad!” soothed Splendor, pushing the young officer back onto his pillow. “Miss Colby’s out of danger, so don’t excite yourself. We got Yanos and the two fishermen in time, too, along with the launch’s crew. Ye’ll hear all the details tomorrow, when you’re feelin’ stronger. The doctor and I will be leavin’ ye now.” “But—the underground base!” muttered Don weakly, pressing a hand to his aching eyes. “About that apparatus, and the automatic weather map—Tell me, Splendor....” “We’ll talk about that another time,” said the man in the wheel chair. “There’s nothing to worry about, except the strength ye’re wastin’ this minute, Commander. So pipe down and give your thoughts a rest till ye’re called on deck. The same goes for you, Pennington, d’ye hear?” “Aye-aye, sir!” came the redhead’s mumbled response, as the cabin door closed softly behind the visitors. III HIGH EXPLOSIVE Dawn had just broken the following day when Don Winslow sat up on the edge of his berth. There was a light of determination in his eye, and a fighting set to his unshaven jaw. He was going to get up, shave and dress before the ship’s doctor had a chance to forbid him. He was tired of lying in a berth. Most of all, he was anxious to see for himself if Mercedes and the others were really getting over the effects of the poison gas. There were some difficulties to be met, of course. In the first place, his head was still woozy, and the deck heaved up and down as if in heavy weather. In the second place, someone had taken away his torn and muddy uniform. If he could get to the locker in the corner, though, he might find something to put on. Groping his way along the bulkhead, Don reached the locker and jerked open the door. There, as he had hoped, hung an officer’s spare uniform, along with a dress sword, weapon belt and other equipment. A drawer beneath contained underwear, shaving kit, and towels. The set-up was complete, including a hot water tap in another corner of the cabin. If only Red didn’t wake up, or the doctor come in before he was dressed.... Fifteen minutes later Don was buttoning up his borrowed tunic, when a sudden yell and a thump spun him around in alarm. “Sufferin’ sea serpents!” gurgled the voice of Red Pennington. More muffled groans, grunts and howls for help issued from the tangle of bedclothes under Red’s berth. Don came to the rescue, laughing so hard that he almost lost his footing.