"Bless my spark plug! He's a regular fire-eater!" went on Mr. Damon, who appeared to have fully recovered his spirits.
"Silenceo!" cried the lieutenant, scowling again, but Mr. Damon did not appear to mind.
Admiral Fanchetti and several others of the gold-laced officers remained aboard the submarine, while Tom and his friends were hustled into the small boat and rowed toward the warship.
"I hope they don't damage our craft," murmured the young inventor, as he saw the admiral enter the conning tower.
"If they do, we'll complain to the United States consul and demand damages," said Mr. Swift.
"I'm afraid we won't have a chance to communicate with the consul," remarked Captain Weston.
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Damon. "Bless my shoelaces, but will these scoundrels"
"Silenceo!" cried Lieutenant Drascalo quickly. "Dogs of Americans, do you wish to insult us?"
"Impossible; you wouldn't appreciate a good, genuine United States insult," murmured Tom under his breath.
"What I mean," went on the captain, "is that these people may carry the proceedings off with
