He turned and looked at the others. Joyce, Jackson, the missionary, and even Mother Joyce, were working as they had never worked before, taking from the hold the golden bars, each a load for a strong man, and staggering on deck with them in their arms. In vain, Howard tried to check them; they only glared at him, cursed, and hurried back for another load. Joyce and his wife, too old for such labor, soon had to give way, crying like children as they did so; but the others toiled on, hot, black with the grime of ages, half ill from the smells of the shut, musty hold. Their muscles cracked; their backs ached; the sweat streamed down their faces, but still they kept on. Sick at heart, Howard turned from the scene and wandered to the side of the galleon, where he stood, looking east, hoping the end of the zigzag channel might be somewhere in sight. In vain! As far as his eyes could serve, it stretched away. Disappointed, his glance dropped to the open water of the channel close at hand, and he stood transfixed. Close beside the galleon, moored strongly fore and aft, lay a slender, queer-shaped boat about sixty feet long. It needed not the trained knowledge of the naval officer to tell that it was a submarine. Intensely modern in its lines, it was as much out of place in that ancient company as would be a rifle in the hands of Cæsar’s legionaries. Howard’s mouth fairly dropped open as he gazed at it. But in a moment understanding came. This was the means of escape that Forbes had spoken of: safe, quick, and easy for one with the necessary technical knowledge; the gold on the galleon was part of the fortune that he wanted to get home in safety. No wonder he had been eager to enlist Howard’s aid; and he could have had it--had it all, if he had not presumed on his power to grasp the girl, too! Now he would lose all. Dorothy had tired of the gold and was standing on the deck, looking wonderingly around. Howard called her, and together they descended to the lower deck of the galleon, and, slipping out through a port opposite to that by which they had entered, stepped easily out upon the deck of the submarine, which floated high in the water. With trembling fingers, Howard pushed back the bolts that held the manhole cover in place, lifted it off, and peered into the darkness of the interior. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he promised, glancing up at Dorothy as he swung himself downward. Soon he was back again with radiant features. “She’s in perfect condition, so far as I can tell without starting the engines,” he announced, “and I guess they are all right. She’s almost the latest type in submarines--gas-engine for running at the surface, and an electric motor for use below. Her oil-tanks are full, and she has an extra supply in glass jars and plenty of other necessary stores. Unless there’s something wrong about her that I can’t see, she’ll get us all to land without the least difficulty.” “Where did she come from?”