“Fortunately, this last is not difficult. On the open sea it is even easy. The Seashark is a torpedo boat, fitted to discharge torpedoes under water. Time and again the crew of an injured submarine have escaped--all but one--by getting into the torpedo tube and being fired out by a moderate charge of compressed air. Here in the weed it will be more difficult, of course, but not especially dangerous. So”--the speaker paused and looked around him--“so if one of you will come and touch me off, I’ll see what I can do toward cutting those confounded cables.” As Howard’s voice died away, the electric lights went suddenly out, and a gasp of sheer horror ran through the tiny cabin. For a moment no one spoke; then Dorothy groped her way through the blackness to Howard’s side. “Not you! not you, my husband!” she murmured. “Not you. Let me go.” Howard laughed gently as he caressed the unseen face. “Not likely, dear,” he answered. The strident voice of the missionary broke through the gloom. “And if you are drowned in the attempt, what will the rest of us do?” he demanded. “If I fail, another must try. But I won’t fail.” “Even if that other succeed, what good will it do us? No one but you can run this boat, and we would only exchange death down here for death on the surface. No, Mr. Howard, you must not go. I will go.” “You.” “Yes! I.” If the missionary smiled bitterly, no one saw it in the darkness. “Oh! I know you all think I am a coward, and perhaps I am. Certainly, I did not dare to oppose Captain Forbes, nor to---- But never mind. I can swim like a fish almost. It is my one manly accomplishment. I can get through the weed if any man can--and if I fail, you will have lost nothing. Come! show me what to do.” Howard groped his way to the missionary, and wrung his hand. “I beg your pardon. Mr. Willoughby,” he said, simply, “I misunderstood you. I accept your offer. Come.” “Wait a moment.” Dorothy’s soft voice sounded. “I want to thank you, Mr. Willoughby, and tell you that I never thought hard of you about Captain Forbes. He was a terrible man. Can--can I do anything in--in case you don’t come back?” Her voice trailed sobbingly off. “Nothing. I haven’t a chick or a child in the world, and--God bless you, my dear.” With a last pressure of her hand he turned away. “Come, Mr. Howard,” he commanded. In Cimmerian gloom the two men felt their way to the torpedo port. “Better take off all your clothes,” counselled Howard. “The least thing may serve to hold you in the weed. Strap this knife tightly to your arm so you will be sure not to lose it. Carry this smaller one between your teeth. Don’t lose your head; if you get entangled, keep cool and cut yourself free. When you get to the surface look for the lump of weed above us; it will be conspicuous enough. Cut first at one end of the boat, and then at the other, so that we can rise on an even keel. Now, if you are ready, climb in head-first.” * * * * *