Two days later she was between Cape Bon on the Tunisian shore and the western extremity of Sicily. Captain Restronguet had, in view of recent developments, decided not to touch at Malta, but proceed as fast as he could to Grecian waters, where he hoped to be able to replenish his accumulators and be in a state of readiness for his hated rival. Hythe had retired to his bunk. He had had a heavy day in the conning-tower, where, in reply to his host’s invitation, he had stood a watch in order to acquaint himself with the delicate organization of electrical mechanism that controlled the submarine. The "Aphrodite" had been running on the surface during the day, but to obviate the risk of being struck by passing vessels she was submerged to nine fathoms at sunset. Suddenly the sub found himself struggling on the steeply listing floor of his cabin. The place was in utter darkness. All around him were weird noises caused by various articles breaking adrift, mingled with the shouts of the alarmed crew, while from without came an awe-inspiring rumble. Struggling to his feet the sub groped for the electric light switch. The current was off. More and more became the list till his feet slipped from under him, and he fell into the angle formed by the floor and the fore and aft bulkhead of the cabin. Above the noise he could distinguish the captain’s voice shouting for the emergency ballast tanks to be emptied. "Good heavens! She’s been struck. We’re done for this time," exclaimed Hythe, with lively recollections of the ill-fated "La Flamme" fresh in his memory. He gained his feet and made for the door, but ere he could fling it open the "Aphrodite" spun round as if pivoted amidships. Full length went the sub once more, his hands grasping the knob of the door, which had come off in the strain. The racket of the shifting gear was redoubled. Every moment Hythe expected the enormous pressure of water, since he was fully certain that the vessel was plunging downwards, would burst in the sides of the submarine. Another nerve-racking twist and the "Aphrodite" began to dip her bows till this time the sub found his sliding movement checked by the fore and aft bulkhead. Then, with a rattle and clank of her complicated machinery, the propellers began to race, while the vessel danced about like a gigantic cork. Instead of plunging down the submarine had been raised to the surface, and was being tossed about on the crests of an angry sea. After considerable trouble Hythe succeeded in opening the door. Outside in the alley-way all was in darkness. He groped his way towards the fore conning-tower, staggering against the metal wall with each abnormal heave of the vessel. Before he had traversed many feet he came into violent contact with a man whom he recognized by his voice as the chief officer. "What’s up, Devoran?" he asked.