pooner knew them as
men--men remodeled into the shape of seals; men who, ages ago, had
forsaken the land for the old home of all life, the sea; who, through
the years, had gradually changed in appearance as their flesh had
become coated with layers of cold-resisting blubber; whose movements
had become adapted to the water; whose legs and arms had evolved into
flippers; but whose heads still harbored the now faint spark of
intelligence that marked them definitely as men.

Emotions similar to man's they had, though dulled; friendliness,
curiosity, anger, hate, and--Ken knew and feared--even a capacity for
vengeance. Vengeance! An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth--the old
law peculiar to man! Chanley Beddoes had slain one of them; if only
the _Peary's_ crew had not killed more! If only that, there might be
hope!

First he must get inside the submarine. Warily, like a stalking cat,
Ken Torrance inched the torpoon toward the great shining ship. At
least he was in time. Within her he could see figures, most of them
stretched out on the decks of her different compartments, but one of
whom occasionally moved--slowly. He understood that. For weeks now the
_Peary_ had lain captive, and her air had passed beyond the aid of
rectifiers. Tortured, those survivors inside were, constantly
struggling for life, with vitality ever sinking lower. Some might
already be dead. But at least he could try to save the rest.

He approached her from one side of the rear, for in the rear
compartment were her two torpoon port-locks. The one on his side was
empty, its outer door open. The torpoon it had held had been sent out,
probably for help, and had not returned. It provided a means of
entrance for him.

At perhaps a hundred feet from the port-lock, Ken halted again. His
slim craft was almost indistinguishable in the murk: he felt
reasonably safe from discovery. For minutes he watched the swimming
sealmen, waiting for the best chance to dart in.

* * * * *

It was then, while studying the full length of the submarine more
closely, that he saw that one compartment of her four was filled with
water. Her steel-caped bow had been stove in. That, he conjectured,
had been the original accident which had brought her down. It was not
a fatal accident in itself, for there were three other compartments,
all separated by watertight bulkheads, and the flooded one could be
repaired by men in sea-suits--but then the sealm