nly remember
it--whatever it was--whether a tangible thing or merely a passing idea
of hours ago--the way out would be suddenly revealed.

But he could not remember. He had the sea-suits, the port-locks and
the torpoon: what possible pattern could he weave them into to bring
deliverance?

No, there was nothing. Not even a girder that could be unfastened in
time to brace the last door. No way of prolonging this last stand!

Beside Ken, the strained, panting voice of Lawson whispered:

"Getting ready. Over soon now. All over."

All save five of the sealmen had left the third compartment, to join
the swarm constantly swimming around and over the submarine outside.
The five remaining were the crew for the battering ram. With measured
and deliberate movements they ranged their lithe bodies beside the
torpoon, lifted it and bore it smoothly back to the far end of the
compartment. There they poised for a minute, while from the men
watching sounded a pathetic sigh of anticipation.

As one, the five seal-creatures lunged forward with their burden.

_Crash!_ And the following dull reverberation.

The last assault had begun.

CHAPTER VI

_In a Biscuit Can_

Ken Torrance glanced with dull, hopeless eyes over the compartment he
stood in. Figures stretched out all over the deck, gasping, panting,
strangling--men waiting in agony for death. His head sank down, and he
wiped wet hands across his aching forehead. Nothing to do but
wait--wait for the end--wait as the patient horde outside had been
waiting in the sea-gloom for their moment of triumph, when the soft
bodies inside the _Peary_ would be theirs to rip and mangle....

A dragging sound brought Ken's eyes wearily up and to the side. One of
the crew who had been lying on the deck was dragging his body
painfully toward a row of lockers at one side of the compartment. The
man's eyes were feverishly intent on the lockers.

Ken watched his progress dully, without thinking, as inch by inch he
forced himself through the other bodies sprawled in his way. He saw
him reach the lockers, and for a minute, gasping, lie there. He saw a
clawing arm stretch almost up to the catch on one locker, while the
man whimpered like a child at his lack of quick success.

_Crash!_ The grinding blow of the torpoon hitting the quarsteel
clanged out from behind. But Ken's mind was all on the reaching man's
strange actions. He saw the fingers at last succeed in touching the
catch. The