ds," Reade murmured. "Now, run the boat
along, slowly and close. I want to scan every bit of the wall."

Less than five minutes later Tom Reade, one hand controlling the
searchlight and peering steadily into the water, sang out:

"Stop! Back her---slowly. There, come back five feet. So! Hold her
steady!"

As the engine stopped Conlon stepped forward, kneeling by Reade's side.

"There are the bombs, man!" cried Tom exultantly. "See them---the two
upper ones?"

"I see something that gleams," admitted Conlon.

"Well, we'll have them up and aboard in a hurry. Then you'll see just
what they are."

"You're not going to try to raise the things with the boathook, are you?"
queried the engine tender, a look of alarm in his eyes.

"That might be risky," admitted Reade. "I'll go over the side after them
and bring them up.

"Don't, Mr. Reade!" urged Conlon with a shiver. "That'll be worse still.
You're likely to blow yourself into the next world!"

"I think not---hope not, anyway," answered Tom steadily. "Have you a pair
of pliers in your tool box that'll cut small wires?"

"Yes," replied Conlon.

"Get them for me."

Reade removed his coat, shoes and socks, then took the pliers.

"Let one of the men jump ashore with the boathook and hold the boat
steady," was Reade's next direction.

This being done, Reade deflected the searchlight for one more look into the
water. Then, the pliers in his right hand, he mounted to the rail of the
boat.

"Be careful, sir---do," begged Conlon. "What I'm afraid of is that the
bombs are contact exploders."

"It's likely," nodded Reade. "I'll be as careful as I can."

Tom did not dive; the distance was too short. Instead, he let himself down
into the water slowly. Then his head vanished beneath the surface of the
water.

"Whew! The nerve of that young fellow!", thought Conlon with shuddering
admiration.

"Ob co'se Massa Reade done got nerve," nodded the negro at the wheel.
"Dat's one reason why, Misto Conlon, Massa Reade is boss."

"There are other reasons why he's boss," grunted the engine tender. "Mr.
Reade has nerve, but he also has brains in his head. Any man with brains
and the sense to use 'em goes to the top, while I stay down a good deal
lower, and you, Rastus, are still lower."

"Ah reckon Ah got a two-bit hat on top o' only two cents' wo'th o' brains,
Misto Conlon," grinned the darkey.

Conlon was an Irishman, and naturally, therefore, no coward.