"Thought as much," said Watterley. "Merely a matter of form. You may as well come up. I’ll recall the two men." Sub-Lieutenant Hythe was not sorry to hear the order to return. Had there been any possibility of success he would have prosecuted his investigations with alacrity, but Spithead with an east-going spring tide running is no place to indulge in submarine excursions. The danger of getting life-line and air-tube foul of some unseen obstruction was no slight one. [Illustration: "THE NEXT INSTANT HE FELT HIMSELF BEING HURLED VIOLENTLY BACKWARDS."] Hythe adjusted the valve of his helmet prior to giving the recognized number of tugs on the life-line--the signal to be hauled up. The next instant he felt himself being hurled violently backwards by a sudden and irresistible swirl of water. Within ten feet of him a huge, ill-defined mass of what appeared to be bright metal tore past. He was just conscious of a vision of one of a pair of propellers thrashing the muddy water and the object was lost to view. "What a narrow squeak!" he growled angrily. "By Jove, I shouldn’t be surprised if Banks is done for. It’s a submarine, that I’ll swear, but not one of ours. Ours are painted a dull grey and that seems to be a huge moving mirror." In spite of his strong nerves, a mild panic overtook the sub. He signalled frantically to be drawn up, and to his relief he found himself alongside the battleship. Grasping a line that was thrown him, Hythe hauled himself along till he reached the iron ladder. Here he clung, too excited to attempt to climb, until a seaman descended and assisted him up the side. "What’s up, Mr. Hythe? You look as if you’d seen a ghost," exclaimed the Number One, as the front plate of the sub-lieutenant’s helmet was removed. "Are Banks and Moy safe?" gasped the young officer. "Safe? Of course they are," replied Lieutenant Watterley, giving a hasty glance over the side to where two distinct clusters of air-bubbles marked the progress of the divers. "What have you seen? But no, say nothing more at present. Wait till you’re out of your dress, and you can report to the captain." Arnold Hythe sat down on a bollard and attempted to collect his scattered thoughts, while his attendant proceeded to remove his helmet and leaden weights. Ere his india-rubber dress was stripped off Banks and Moy appeared over the side. "Well?" demanded the first lieutenant laconically. "Nothin’ to report, sir," replied Banks, while his companion signified corroboration by a nod of his head. Mr. Watterley looked inquiringly at the sub. The flush upon his face had vanished and his features were white with excitement. Several of the officers had come up and were engaged in plying Hythe with questions, to which the latter paid no attention. He was still in a kind of stupor, the result of a sudden shock to his nerves. "Now then, Mr. Hythe--why, what’s the matter with you? Here, I must send for the staff-surgeon; I must, by George!"