The thought maddened him, and he had just determined to make an effort to get the _Seal_ afloat again without waiting for the lifting of the mist when, as suddenly as it had come, the cloud rolled upward and vanished. Then the full extent of his misfortune became apparent to the engineer. The submarine had grounded for almost her entire length, and it needed but a glance to tell him that her re-floating would be a matter of great difficulty, if, indeed, it could be managed at all. By the character of the ground around Wilson surmised that he must be far from his starting-place, and this afterwards proved to be the case. Before him lay a stretch of stony beach, perhaps one hundred yards in width, and beyond that rose a towering wall of cliffs, looming grim and gaunt through the twilight. The engineer’s first movement was to start the engines at full speed astern; but, though the propellers whirled madly, the vessel remained motionless, and it became apparent that, despite his wish to be moving, Wilson would have to wait for the turn of the tide ere making any effort to once more float the _Seal._ Part of the time Wilson passed in making an examination of his craft, both inside and out, and glad indeed was he to find that she had sustained but little damage, and that only of a minor character. All too slowly the water rose, the incoming waves lapping the submarine’s hull playfully as they danced and shivered in the rays of the searchlight. At intervals the engineer tried the engines, and at last, after a long wait, the water rose high enough to answer his purpose. A tremor passed through the vessel; her propellers churned and thrashed; she bumped, rolled, then slid gently off the beach. “Hurrah!” shouted Wilson, and flung up his cap. The _Seal_ was afloat once more. Over the rolling waves she flew at full speed, the engineer’s one thought being to regain the beach from which the attack of the great ichthyosaurus had driven him. Two hours later, after a long search, Wilson found himself back at the old mooring-place. Securely fastening the vessel, he stepped ashore to stretch his limbs. As he paced backward and forward across the beach, he wondered whether his friends had returned from their expedition during his absence. Suddenly, as he turned to go on board again, he noticed something gleaming in the sand, almost at his feet. Stooping, he picked the shining object up. It was the baronet’s revolver! The truth burst upon him in a flash. “So they came back,” he muttered, “while I was away, for I know Seymour took this with him when he went off the second time.” Gloomy and depressed beyond measure by the discovery, he stepped across the gangway. Then an idea struck him. Perhaps his friends were still within hearing! On the impulse of the moment he snatched down a rifle from the rack and fired it into the air.