Tom could not repress a shudder as he noted the
leveled rifles, and saw the fire and smoke spurt from the
muzzles.
"Thus we shall do to you at sunrise to-morrow," said the
lieutenant, grinning, as he once more had his men practice
their grim work.
It seemed hotter than ever that day. The sun was fairly
broiling, and there was a curious haziness and stillness to
the air. It was noticed that the sailors on the San Paulo
were busy making fast all loose articles on deck with extra
lashings, and hatch coverings were doubly secured.
"What do you suppose they are up to?" asked Tom of Captain
Weston.
"I think it is coming on to blow," he replied, "and they
don't want to be caught napping. They have fearful storms
down in this region at this season of the year, and I think
one is about due."
"I hope it doesn't wreck the submarine," spoke Mr. Swift.
"They ought to close the hatch of the conning tower, for it
won't take much of a sea to make her ship considerable
water."
Admiral Fanchetti had thought of this, however, and as the
afternoon wore away and the storm signs multiplied, he sent
word to close the submarine. He left a few sailors aboard
inside on guard.
"It's too hot to eat," observed Tom, when their supper had
been brought to them, and the others felt the same way about
it.
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