centering the whole crew there during engagements would crowd the room
awkwardly, but at other times, while proceeding on their inspection of
the cavern lair, they could remain at their regular posts.

That, at least, was Wells' plan.

He looked up and found the cook, McKegnie, grinning at him from the
door of the control room. Keith smiled, running his eyes over the
portly magnificence of his gently perspiring figure. "Keg," he said
cheerfully, "I want you to move your hot plate and culinary apparatus
up here; you see, we're all likely to be crowded in here for some
time, and your coffee's going to be an absolute necessity." He
couldn't resist a crack at McKegnie's well-known and passionate
curiosity as to what made the thigmajigs of the control board work:
"And besides, it'll give you a chance to observe the instruments and
perfect yourself for your future career as a naval officer. Much
better than a correspondence course in 'How to Be a Submarine
Commander,' eh?"

Cook McKegnie grinned sheepishly, and left. He was well used to such
jests, but he never would admit that his extraordinary interest in
watching the ship's wheels go round was accompanied by a miraculous
inability to comprehend why they went round....

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later the helmsman's cry, "Cavern showing, sir!" swung
the commander to the teleview screen. The dark, kelp-shrouded opening
he knew so well was already looming on it. And he was prepared.

"Enter," he said, while his punched studs ordered, "Quarter Speed,
Ready at Posts, Tanks in Trim." The _NX-1_ slackened her gait,
balanced cautiously, and struck a straight, even course as she crept
closer to the cleft entrance through which, some two hours earlier,
the octopi ship had nosed.

Screws turning slowly, she edged through the jagged cavern. Shades of
inky blackness grew on the teleview and danced in fantastic blotches;
the screen turned to a welter of black, threatening shadows; became a
useless maze of ever-changing forms. Keith mouthed curses as he stared
at it; he now had nothing by which to judge his progress, to maneuver
the submarine, save directional instruments and, perhaps, chance
scrapings of the tunnel's ragged walls against the outer hull. The
_NX-1_ was running a gauntlet of immeasurable danger, her only
assurance of success being the fact that a larger craft had preceded
her.

But how far, Keith wondered, had that ship preceded h