d by two enemy [v]hydroplanes as she rose among the mines
toward the surface of the bay. The aircraft were seen, however, and the
boat dived again to a great depth.

The _Kate_ now blindly groped her way forward. The motors worked at
their top speed, and the body of the boat trembled. Hundreds of demons
called horsepowers fiercely turned the various wheels, pinions, and
shafts. The air was hot and stuffy; the men at the engine, stripped to
the waist, worked feverishly. Speed was necessary, for only oxygen
enough to sustain the crew for one hour remained in the lead cylinders.

Yakovlev still sat at the compass, his elbows on his knees and his hands
pressing his head. The men lounged in the cabins and corridors, their
faces livid with suffocation. Prince Bylopolsky remained leaning over
his [v]logarithmic tables, which had now become useless. From time to
time he wiped his face, as if removing a net of invisible cobwebs.
Finally he rose to his feet, took a few steps, and fainted dead away.

Giving the order to proceed at full speed, Andrey hoped to pass the mine
zone, even though some of his men succumbed for lack of air. Pale and
excited, his hair in disorder, and his coat unbuttoned, he was
everywhere at once, and his voice sustained the failing strength of the
half-suffocated crew. Seeing the prince stretched unconscious on a
berth, Andrey poured a few drops of brandy in his mouth and kissed his
wet, childlike forehead. In making too rapid a movement, lurid flames
danced before his eyes, and he bent back, striking his head against a
sharp angle of an engine. He felt no pain from the blow.

"Bad!" thought Andrey, and crawled over to the emergency oxygen
container. He opened the faucet and inhaled the fragrant stream of gas.
His head began to swim and a sweet fire ran through his veins. With an
effort he rose to his feet. The outlines of the objects around him were
strangely distinct, and the faces of the men imploringly turned to
him--some of them bearded and high-cheekboned, others tender and
childlike--seemed to him touchingly human....

In the corridor Andrey came upon a man standing against the wall and
gulping the air like a fish. Seeing the commander, he made an effort to
cheer up and mumbled, "Beg pardon, sir; I'm a bit unwell." The captain
leaned over and looked into his eyes, which a film of death was already
beginning to veil. Andrey, turning to the telephone tube, gave a command
to rise. The _Kate_ shook