"SURFACE!"
"About fifteen hundred miles," answered someone consolingly. "Or it was before we got blown all over the shop. Bet you we aren't any nearer Ireland than we were this time yesterday!"
"Thought we were going to Queenstown," said another.
"So we are, you chump. Where do you think Queenstown is?"
"France, of course! Isn't it?"
There was a laugh at that, and he was informed that unless Ireland had had another Big Wind Queenstown was still across the Channel from France. Nelson began to feel squirmy after awhile and, seeing that Martin was half-asleep, propped up against the bunk frame, he unobtrusively picked his way through the crowd, aware of surreptitious smiles, and made his way back to his bunk, narrowly missing a collision with the junior lieutenant on the way.
The next few hours were most unhappy ones for Nelson. He was just sick enough to be miserable, and for a long time his efforts to get to sleep were vain. He finally fell into a restless slumber, however, from which he was later awakened by a swirling and rushing of water beneath him, followed after a minute by a gurgling sound that proclaimed the main tanks filled. He waited
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