After turmoil peace. Howard pulled his dazed wits together to the realization that the Seashark was lying quiescent on the surface of the water, though by no means on an even keel. Her engines had stopped, and her lights were out. Only a faint glimmer through the windows of the conning-tower illumined the scene of wreckage around him. Wild with anxiety, he lowered himself into the blackness of the sleeping room, and called Dorothy’s name. “Here I am, Frank,” came the answer. Howard groped his way toward the sound. “Are you hurt?” he asked in trembling accents. “No! I think not--certainly not seriously.” The girl’s tones were broken, but brave as ever. “The rest of you? Is everybody alive? Answer as I call. Joyce?” “I’m alive, sor, and so is Kathleen.” “Jackson?” “Here.” “Mr. Willoughby?” “I, too, have escaped.” Howard drew a long breath. “Thank God! We seem to have our lives, at any rate.” “What was it, sor?” “I’m not certain. But I think a wreck must have chosen the very moment of our passage to sink, and must have drawn us down into her vortex. We escaped at last, and are now at the surface. But I fear our machinery is ruined. I’ll open the manhole.” Turning, Howard clambered back to his perch, and tried to push back the bolts. They were badly jammed, and it took him some time to loosen them; but at last they gave way, and he shoved back the cover and thrust out his head. The Seashark was rolling gently on smooth weed-clear water. A quarter of a mile away lay a white cruiser, and not a hundred yards distant was a boat rapidly approaching. Howard rubbed his eyes. “Ahoy, the boat,” he called. The officer in charge gasped. “Way enough,” he ordered. “Ahoy, the submarine. Where in heaven did you come from?” “From mighty near the other place,” answered Howard grimly. “Did you torpedo that wreck?” “That’s what we did. We’re destroying derelicts, and hunting for a party of castaways from the Queen. Do you know anything about them?” [Illustration: “THIS IS, OR, RATHER, WAS--MISS FAIRFAX,” HE EXPLAINED. “AND YOU----”] Howard nodded affirmatively in answer to the officer’s question. “Yes,” he answered. “We are the castaways--we and three others who escaped with us in this submarine from the little king of the Sargasso Sea. I suppose you know the story that I sent by wireless?” The boat scraped along. “Know it! I should say so,” exclaimed the startled officer. “The whole country knows it. I suppose you are----” “Frank Howard. Come, Dorothy,” Howard climbed to the deck, and helped the girl to follow him. “This is, or, rather, was--Miss Fairfax,” he explained. “And you----” The officer suppressed a whistle of admiration at sight of Dorothy’s flower-like face. “I’m McCully!” he answered, as he stood up and took off his cap. “I say! This is awfully lucky. Colonel Fairfax will be wild with delight.” “My father! Where is he?”