Part 5 (2/2)
There was no further retreat, now. Behind was only water and the swarm that pa.s.sed to and fro through it. Water and sealmen--ahead, above, to the sides, behind--everywhere. Cooped in their transparent cell, the crew of the submarine _Peary_ waited the end.
Once more, as well as he could with his throbbing head and heavy, choking body, Kenneth Torrance tracked over the old road that had brought him nowhere, but was the only road open. Carefully he took stock of everything he had that he might possibly fight with.
There were sea-suits for the men, and in each suit an hour's supply of artificial but invigorating air. Two port-locks, one on each side of the stern compartment. A torpoon, with a gun and nineteen sh.e.l.ls.
Nothing else? There seemed to be, in his mind, a vague memory of something else ... something that might possibly be of use ...
something.... But he could not remember. Again and again the agony of slow strangulation he was going through drove everything but the consciousness of pain from his s.h.i.+rking mind. But there was something else--and perhaps it was the key. Perhaps if he could only remember it--whatever it was--whether a tangible thing or merely a pa.s.sing idea of hours ago--the way out would be suddenly revealed.
But he could not remember. He had the sea-suits, the port-locks and the torpoon: what possible pattern could he weave them into to bring deliverance?
No, there was nothing. Not even a girder that could be unfastened in time to brace the last door. No way of prolonging this last stand!
Beside Ken, the strained, panting voice of Lawson whispered:
”Getting ready. Over soon now. All over.”
All save five of the sealmen had left the third compartment, to join the swarm constantly swimming around and over the submarine outside.
The five remaining were the crew for the battering ram. With measured and deliberate movements they ranged their lithe bodies beside the torpoon, lifted it and bore it smoothly back to the far end of the compartment. There they poised for a minute, while from the men watching sounded a pathetic sigh of antic.i.p.ation.
As one, the five seal-creatures lunged forward with their burden.
_Cras.h.!.+_ And the following dull reverberation.
The last a.s.sault had begun.
CHAPTER VI
_In a Biscuit Can_
Ken Torrance glanced with dull, hopeless eyes over the compartment he stood in. Figures stretched out all over the deck, gasping, panting, strangling--men waiting in agony for death. His head sank down, and he wiped wet hands across his aching forehead. Nothing to do but wait--wait for the end--wait as the patient horde outside had been waiting in the sea-gloom for their moment of triumph, when the soft bodies inside the _Peary_ would be theirs to rip and mangle....
A dragging sound brought Ken's eyes wearily up and to the side. One of the crew who had been lying on the deck was dragging his body painfully toward a row of lockers at one side of the compartment. The man's eyes were feverishly intent on the lockers.
Ken watched his progress dully, without thinking, as inch by inch he forced himself through the other bodies sprawled in his way. He saw him reach the lockers, and for a minute, gasping, lie there. He saw a clawing arm stretch almost up to the catch on one locker, while the man whimpered like a child at his lack of quick success.
_Cras.h.!.+_ The grinding blow of the torpoon hitting the quarsteel clanged out from behind. But Ken's mind was all on the reaching man's strange actions. He saw the fingers at last succeed in touching the catch. The door of the locker opened outward, and eagerly the man reached inside and pulled. With a thump, a row of heavy objects strung together rolled out onto the deck--and Ken Torrance sprang suddenly to the man's side:
”What are you doing?” he cried.
The man looked up sullenly. He mumbled:
”d.a.m.n fish--won't get me. I'll blow us all to h.e.l.l, first!”
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