Captain Weston put his steel bar in one crack, and tried to
pry it farther open, but his strength was not equal to the
task. He made some peculiar motions, but Tom could not
understand them.
They looked for some means by which they could mount to
the decks of the Boldero, but none was visible. It was like
trying to scale a fifty-foot smooth steel wall. There was no
place for a foothold. Again the sailor made some peculiar
motions, and the lad puzzled over them. They had gone nearly
around the wreck now, and as yet had seen no way in which to
get at the gold. As they passed around the bow, which was in
a deep shadow from a great rock, they caught sight of the
submarine lying a short distance away. Light streamed from
many hull's-eyes, and Tom felt a sense of security as he
looked at her, for it was lonesome enough in that great
depth of water, unable to speak to his companion, who was a
few feet in advance.
Suddenly there was a swirling of the water, and Tom was
nearly thrown off his feet by the rush of some great body. A
long, black shadow passed over his head, and an instant
later he saw the form of a great shark launched at Captain
Weston. The lad involuntarily cried in alarm, but the result
was surprising. He was nearly deafened by his own voice,
confined as the sound was in the helmet he wore.
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