e try," suggested Mr. Swift, and he pulled the various handles.
There was no corresponding action of the machinery.

"That's odd," he remarked in a curious voice "Perhaps something has
gone wrong with the connections. Go look in the engine-room, and ask
Mr. Sharp if everything is all right there."

Tom made a quick trip, returning to report that the dynamos, motors and
gas engine were running perfectly.

"Try to work the tank levers and pumps from the conning tower,"
suggested Captain Weston. "Sometimes I've known the steam steering gear
to play tricks like that."

Tom hurried up the circular stairway into the tower. He pulled the
levers and shifted the valves and wheels there. But there was no
emptying of the water tanks. The weight and pressure of water in them
still held the submarine on the bottom of the sea, more than a mile
from the surface. The pumps in the engine-room were working at top
speed, but there was evidently something wrong in the connections. Mr.
Swift quickly came to this conclusion.

"We must repair it at once," he said. "Tom, come to the engine-room.
You and I, with Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sharp, will soon have it in shape
again."

"Is there any danger?" asked Mr. Damon in a perturbed voice. "Bless my
soul, it's unlucky to have an accident on our trial trip."

"Oh, we must expect accidents," declared Mr. Swift with a smile. "This
is nothing."

But it proved to be more difficult than he had imagined to re-establish
the connection between the pumps and the tanks. The valves, too, had
clogged or jammed, and as the pressure outside the ship was so great,
the water would not run out of itself. It must be forced.

For an hour or more the inventor, his son and the others, worked away.
They could accomplish nothing. Tom looked anxiously at his parent when
the latter paused in his efforts.

"Don't worry," advised the aged inventor. "It's got to come right
sooner or later."

Just then Mr. Damon, who had been wandering about the ship, entered the
engine-room.

"Do you know," he said, "you ought to open a window, or something."

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Tom quickly, looking to see if the odd
man was joking.

"Well, of course I don't exactly mean a window," explained Mr. Damon,
"but we need fresh air."

"Fresh air!" There was a startled note in Mr. Swift's voice as he
repeated the words.

"Yes, I can hardly breathe in the living-room, and it's not much better
here."

"Why, there oug