"Ease off on the diving rudders," snapped Commander Ford. "We're almost down." "How's the bottom?" asked George Gadd. "Charts show it to be good and firm. We'll just touch and then start up again." The depth gauge showed 205 feet when there was a gentle scraping sound and the _S-18_ came to rest on the bottom of the sound. Beads of water were standing all over the interior of the glistening white hull for the pressure at that depth was tremendous. Commander Ford left his post and made a thorough tour of the submarine. When he returned he was obviously elated. "Everything's holding fine," he said. "Now we'll get ready to return to the surface." Orders flew rapidly. The diving planes were readjusted and Forman Gay and Erich Gaunt stood ready to blow the ballast from the diving tanks and lighten the sub for the rise to the surface. "Blow the tanks," ordered the Commander. Compressed air hissed through the high pressure lines and Tim knew that despite the pressure of the water at that depth the air was blowing the ballast from the tanks. In a moment or two the _S-18_ would quiver, come to life, and start the upward ascent. Commander Ford was watching the gauges intently. There was no movement of the _S-18_ and he turned toward Gay and Gaunt. "We're giving the tanks all we've got," said Gaunt. "There's 1,500 pounds of air pressure pushing that water out." "Hold it for a minute," ordered Ford as Charlie Gill, the chief diver, stumbled into the room. Charlie's face was white, strained. "We're stuck, chief, we're stuck. This bottom is as soft as a mud pie and the current has rammed us against the side of an old derelict. We're settling deeper into the stuff every minute." "Stand by your posts," cried the Commander. Grabbing Gill by the shoulder, he hurried him forward. Tim, who had no duty to attend, followed them into the diving compartment where a special quartz window to observe diving operations had been placed. A powerful searchlight had been turned on by Gill and it revealed the trap into which the _S-18_ had settled. They were tight against the slime-encrusted hull of an old barge, probably a garbage scow used in hauling the refuse from New York City. "That also explains the soft bottom," said Ford. "They've been dumping garbage out here." "It may make garbage of us," said Gill bitterly. "Can you get into your diving outfit and get outside and place a bomb?" asked the Commander. "Not at this depth. I've got to be in the diving compartment and come down gradually. The pressure would break me in two if I walked out there now." "Then how about a bomb?" "We could get that outside, but it's hard to tell where it will go off. If it's too close to the hull, it might crush us and you know the answer to that." Commander Ford nodded. "We'll try it again."