d, aim and fire blank cartridges at an imaginary line of
prisoners. Tom could not repress a shudder as he noted the leveled
rifles, and saw the fire and smoke spurt from the muzzles.

"Thus we shall do to you at sunrise to-morrow," said the lieutenant,
grinning, as he once more had his men practice their grim work.

It seemed hotter than ever that day. The sun was fairly broiling, and
there was a curious haziness and stillness to the air. It was noticed
that the sailors on the San Paulo were busy making fast all loose
articles on deck with extra lashings, and hatch coverings were doubly
secured.

"What do you suppose they are up to?" asked Tom of Captain Weston.

"I think it is coming on to blow," he replied, "and they don't want to
be caught napping. They have fearful storms down in this region at this
season of the year, and I think one is about due."

"I hope it doesn't wreck the submarine," spoke Mr. Swift. "They ought
to close the hatch of the conning tower, for it won't take much of a
sea to make her ship considerable water."

Admiral Fanchetti had thought of this, however, and as the afternoon
wore away and the storm signs multiplied, he sent word to close the
submarine. He left a few sailors aboard inside on guard.

"It's too hot to eat," observed Tom, when their supper had been brought
to them, and the others felt the same way about it. They managed to
drink some cocoanut milk, prepared in a palatable fashion by the
natives of the island, and then, much to their disgust, they were taken
below again and locked in the cabin.

"Whew! But it certainly is hot!" exclaimed Mr. Damon as he sat down on
a couch and fanned himself. "This is awful!"

"Yes, something is going to happen pretty soon," observed Captain
Weston. "The storm will break shortly, I think."

They sat languidly about the cabin. It was so oppressive that even the
thought of the doom that awaited them in the morning could hardly seem
worse than the terrible heat. They could hear movements going on about
the ship, movements which indicated that preparations were being made
for something unusual. There was a rattling of a chain through a hawse
hole, and Captain Weston remarked:

"They're putting down another anchor. Admiral Fanchetti had better get
away from the island, though, unless he wants to be wrecked. He'll be
blown ashore in less than no time. No cable or chain will hold in such
storms as they have here."

There came a period of sil