and useless churning of the screw, Matt turned to Cassidy. The mate, grave-faced and anxious, was looking at him and waiting for orders.

"Rig the electric projector, Cassidy," said Matt calmly.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the mate.

When the little searchlight was in position, a gleam was thrown through one of the forward lunettes out over the bow of the Grampus. Matt, feeling keenly the weight of responsibility that rested on his shoulders, mounted the iron ladder to the conning tower and looked through one of the small windows.

To his intense astonishment he found the bottom of the sea pervaded with a faintly luminous light, perhaps due to some phosphorescence given off by the marine growth. Through this glow traveled the brighter gleam of the searchlight.

The Grampus was lying in a dense forest of nodding, moss-covered stems. The algae of the ocean bed, with its lianes and creeping growth, twisted all about the submarine, fluttering and waving in the currents caused by the swiftly revolving propeller.

A gasp escaped Matt's lips, however, when he fixed his attention forward. For a full minute he stood on the ladder, taking in the weird and dangerous predicament of the Grampus.

Then an exclamation fell from his lips, and he looked down to see Captain Nemo, Jr., slowly mounting to his side.

"Look!" whispered Matt hoarsely, nodding toward the lunettes.

The captain pressed his eyes against the thick glass and then dropped back.

"A ship!" he exclaimed. "We have rammed an old Spanish galleon and are caught in her rotting timbers!"

He looked upward, his startled eyes engaging Matt's, and the two staring at each other.

CHAPTER II.

OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.

What the captain had said was true. The Grampus, cruising in those great depths, had had the misfortune to hurl herself bodily on into an ancient wreck.

The wreck, which must have lain for centuries there on the bottom, was covered with marine growth, yet, nevertheless, seemed wonderfully well preserved. The high bow and poop, covered with serpent-like lianes and creeping weeds, were erect in the water, for the galleon lay on an even keel. The ship's two masts and steep bowsprit had been broken off, and the decks were a litter of weeds, and shells, and sand.

The Grampus, cleaving the heavy submarine growth, had flung her sharp prow into the galleon's side and was embedded almost to the flagstaff.

The captain and Matt descended silently into the periscope room.

"We jammed into an old wreck, did we?" queried Cassidy, calmly but with a look on his face which reflected the perturbation of his mind.

"Yes," answered Matt. "Some Spanish ship went down here—perhaps loaded with treasure for across the sea."

"Hardly loaded with treasure, Matt," spoke up the captain. "This is the Spanish Main, and the reefs off Honduras offered shelter for many a pirate in the old days. This galleon, I am inclined to think, was stripped of her treasure by some buccaneer and sunk. It is too bad that she was sunk in the course we happened to be taking."

The rack of the useless motor ceased on an order from Matt; in the deep, death-like silence that intervened, a wail came up from the tank room.

"Vat's der madder mit us, Matt? Dit ve run indo a cave in der ocean? Oof ve can't ged oudt vat vill pecome oof us?"

"We ran into an old Spanish ship, Carl," answered Matt, "and we are so jammed in the side of the hulk that we haven't been able, so far, to back out."

"Ach, du lieber! Meppy ve von't nefer be aple to pack oudt! Meppy ve vas down here for keeps, hey? Nexdt dime I go down in some supmarines, you bed my life I make a vill pefore I shtart."

Carl, white as a sheet and scared, came rolling into the periscope room. Dick likewise showed up from forward.

"Strike me lucky, old ship," said he, "I hadn't any notion this was to be our last cruise."

"It's not," answered Matt. "We'll get out of this."

He turned to Captain Nemo, Jr., who was again seated quietly, his calm eyes on the king of the motor boys.

"The power of the screw, unaided," said the captain, "will not serve to get us clear of the wreck. What are you going to do, Matt?"

Matt thought for a moment.

"Am I to have my way, captain?" he asked.

"Certainly. I want to see what you can do."

"Speake! Gaines! Clackett!" called Matt. "Come up here, at once."

From the engine room, the torpedo room, and the ballast room came the rest of the submarine's crew. Their faces were gray with anxiety, but they were men of pluck and determination, and could be depended on to fight for life until the very last.

"Men," said Matt, "we have rammed an old hulk that has been lying for centuries in the bottom of St. George's Bay. The nose of the Grampus is caught and held in the wreck's side, and the full power of the engine is not sufficient to pull us out. We shall have to try something else—something that will put a great strain on the steel shell of the submarine, considering the pressure the boat is under at this enormous depth. I am going to give some orders, and on the swiftness with which they are carried out our lives may depend. You will all go back to your stations, Carl with Clackett and Dick with Gaines; and when I shout the word 'Ready!' the engine will be started with all power astern. At the same instant, Clackett and Carl will open the pipes and admit air into the ballast tanks, and open the valves that let out the water. We may have to do all this several times, if necessary, but you fellows have got to be prompt in doing what you are told."

Again was admiration reflected in Captain Nemo's pale face. Leaning back against the steel wall of the periscope room, he settled himself quietly to await developments.

"Count on me," said Clackett, as he and Carl disappeared.

"And on us," said Gaines, leaving the periscope room with Dick.

Cassidy merely gave a nod and turned to his steering wheel. Matt went up into the tower and placed himself at one of the lunettes.

His heart was beating against his ribs with trip-hammer blows, but his brain was cool and clear.

When he had given the crew sufficient time to gain their stations, he lifted his voice loudly.

"Ready!"

The word rang through the periscope room and echoed clatteringly through the steel hull.

The propeller began to whirl like mad, and the sudden opening of the ballast tanks depressed the free rear portion of the submarine.

For a full minute the wild struggle went on, and so shaken was the boat that it seemed as though she must fly in pieces. Then, abruptly, the Grampus leaped backward and upward, clearing the forest-like growth of seaweed at a gigantic bound.

The upward motion was felt by every one in the boat, and cries of exultation came to Matt's ears in clamoring echoes.

Slipping like lightning down the ladder, he shouted to Gaines to stop the madly-working engine and reverse it at a more leisurely speed.

Like a huge air bubble, the Grampus swung up and up, and when she emerged above the surface, and Matt could see sunlight through the dripping lunettes, he turned off the electric projector, opened the hatch and threw it back, and gulped down deep breaths of the warm, fresh air.

Once more slipping down the ladder, he saluted the captain.

"I turn the ship over to you, sir," said he, and collapsed on a stool, mopping the perspiration from his face.

"You're a brick!" grunted Cassidy, picking up the course for Belize.

"Hooray for Motor Matt, king of the motor boys!" came a thrilling shout from somewhere in the bowels of the craft.

For an instant, the steel walls echoed with the jubilant yells of Carl, Dick, Gaines, Speake, and Clackett.

"It came