"Heaven only knows, Mr. Hythe. Until we get the light switched on it will be difficult to find out. One thing, we are afloat, and riding easily." "Much too easily for my liking," remarked Hythe, although he felt considerably reassured that the "Aphrodite" had risen. "Where are you going?" asked Devoran. "To the for’ard conning-tower." "No use," replied the chief officer laconically. "All principal watertight doors are closed. Captain’s for’ard. Best to go to the after conning-tower if you want to see anything. I left Kenwyn there." The sub made for the steel ladder communicating with Kenwyn’s post, and as he did so he heard Devoran raise the flap of the hatchway to the motor-room and ask Carclew what in the name of Pontius Pilate’s grandmother was the matter with the light? "Plug fused, sir. I am replacing it," shouted Carclew. "Then for goodness’ sake hurry up!" replied the chief officer. Hythe found Kenwyn staring out of the scuttle at nothing. It was so pitch dark that without the conning-tower everything seemed an impenetrable mass of darkness--sea and sky a chaos of invisibility. All the while the submarine was pitching and tossing like an empty barrel. "That you, Mr. Hythe," exclaimed the second officer, unmistakably glad to have some one to speak to. "Isn’t this a set-to? I don’t know what can be happening." Just then a brilliant flash of lightning played upon the turmoil of broken water without. In the pale-blue glare it seemed as if the surface of the angry sea was one expanse of tall, steep waves--an exaggerated tidal race. "Ah, that’s better," ejaculated Hythe, as the hiss of incoming water could be faintly distinguished above the hammering of the waves against the "Aphrodite’s" sides and upon her deck. "We’re diving once more." At twelve fathoms the motion, though still erratic, became less marked, and the condition of things was vastly improved when the electric light was once more connected up. Every available search-light was switched on, and as the powerful beams were directed through the scuttles Hythe and Kenwyn gave a simultaneous exclamation of surprise. Eddying through the water as far as the rays of light could penetrate were columns of smoke mingled with bubbles full of gaseous vapour. Now and again dark masses would shoot upwards with the velocity of a meteor. "A submarine eruption, by Jove!" declared Hythe. "We’re over the mouth of a submerged crater. That accounts for the earthquake shocks in Malta and elsewhere. Those black objects we see whizzing by must be lumps of lava." Kenwyn placed his hand upon the side of the conning-tower. The metal felt quite warm to his touch. The thermometer registered eighty-five degrees. "We’ll be boiled alive if this lasts," he exclaimed. "The sea must be quite hot. Ah! that’s better," he added, as the propellers began to revolve. "We ought to get out of this natural saucepan as soon as possible."