"I'm Sallorsen," the captain went on at last. All his words were clipped off, to cost minimum effort. "Glad you got through. Afraid you're come to prison, though." "No!" Ken said emphatically. He spoke to the captain, but what he said was also for all the others grouped around him. "No, Captain! I'm Kenneth Torrance. Once torpooner with Alaska Whaling Company. They thought me crazy--crazy--'cause I told about sealmen. Put me in sanitarium. I knew they had you--when--heard you were missing." He pointed at the brown-skinned creatures that clustered close around the submarine outside her transparent walls. "I got free and came. Just in time." "In time? For what?" Another voice gasped out the question. Ken turned to a broad-shouldered man with a ragged growth of beard that had been a trim Van Dyke; and before the torpooner could answer, Sallorsen said: "Dr. Lawson. One of our scientists. In time for what?" "To get you and the submarine free," said Ken. "How?" * * * * * Ken paused before replying. He gazed around--out the side walls of glistening quarsteel into the sea gloom, into the thick of the smooth, lithe, brown-skinned shapes that now and again poised pressing against the submarine, peering in with their liquid seal's eyes. Dimly he could see the taut seaweed ropes stretching down from the top of the _Peary_ to the sea-bottom. It looked hopeless, and to these men inside it was hopeless. He knew he must speak in confident, assured tones to drive away the uncaring lethargy holding them all, and he framed definite, concise words with which to do it. "These creatures have caught you," he began, "and you think they want to kill you. But look at them. They seem to be seals. They're not. They're men! Not men like us--half-men--sealmen, rather--changed into present form by ages of living in the water. I know. I was captured by them once. They're not senseless brutes; they have a streak of man's intelligence. We must communicate with that intelligence. Must reason with them. I did once. I can do it again. "They're not really hostile. They're naturally peaceful; friendly. But my friend--dead now--killed one of them. Naturally they now think all creatures like us enemies. That's why they trapped your sub. "They think you're enemies; think you want to kill them. But I'll tell them--through pictures, as I did once before--that you mean them no harm. I'll tell them you're dying and must have air--just as they must. I'll tell them to release submarine and we'll go away and not disturb them again. Above all I must get across that you wish them no harm. They'll listen to what my pictures will say--and let us go--'cause at heart they're friendly!" * * * * * He paused--and with a ghastly, twisted smile, Captain Sallorsen whispered: "The hell you say!"