AN ULTIMATUM.
"That will do, Jim Sixty!" shouted Captain Nemo, Jr., the moment he had
got head and shoulders over the rim of the tower.
With a burst of profanity, Sixty leveled the rifle at the captain.
"What's to hinder me from puttin' a bullet through you, right where you
are, you meddlin' hound?" he shouted.
"Several things, Sixty," was the calm response. "In the first place, I
don't think you're a good enough marksman; and, in the second place, I
don't think you'll do anything rash when I tell you that we're ready to
put a torpedo into the brig and blow you and the wreck out of water."
That was a blow in the face for Sixty. He staggered back, dropped his
rifle, and cast longing eyes at the two boats moored to the brig's side.
"You wouldn't dare do a thing like that!" he cried.
"Why wouldn't I?" asked the captain, casually.
"Well, for one thing, if you blowed us up, Motor Matt's two pards would
go with us. You ain't takin' no chances with----"
"The schooner! The schooner!" clamored those on the deck of the brig.
Through the lunette Matt could see the schooner, with all sail set,
hustling off across the ocean, showing as clean a pair of heels as any
sailing craft could.
"Come back here, blast you!" howled Sixty, trumpeting the words through
his hands.
But, if any one on the schooner heard, they made no response. The craft
kept to her course, hauling up every stitch of canvas possible.
"We've got her scared," remarked Captain Nemo, Jr., "for her skipper
knows that if we could sink you with a torpedo we could also sink her."
"What d'you want?" demanded Sixty.
"We want you and your men as prisoners," replied the captain. "If Motor
Matt's friend on the deck, there, is badly hurt, you'll all be held
to answer for it. Not only that, but we want to examine the brig's
cargo----"
"No need of that, captain," sung out Dick. "I've got her log and her
manifest. There's enough guns and ammunition down below to arm a
regiment--and they're not down in the papers."
With a swirling roar of rage, Sixty sprang toward Dick. The latter
stepped away quickly.
"Stay right where you are, Sixty!" shouted the captain. "Make another
move like that and you'll do it at your peril. If those men with you
know when they're well off, they'll help Dick Ferral get his chum into
one of the boats and bring him over here to us."
"They'll do nothin' o' the kind!" shouted Sixty. "If you blow us up,
you're goin' to blow up Motor Matt's friends along with us."
But the nine men with Sixty were of another way of thinking. Their only
hope had been the schooner, and, now that she had mysteriously taken to
flight, their next best plan was to fall in with the desires of their
captor--the gray-haired man in the submarine.
Together the nine swarthy sailors started toward Carl. Sixty endeavored
to drive them back, but they pointed revolvers at him and brandished
dangerous-looking knives. Baffled, and held at bay by superior numbers,
Sixty could only watch like an enraged panther while Carl was picked up
and lowered by means of a rope into one of the boats.
Dick, before he dropped over the side, ran into the cabin after the
log and manifest. Then, while Dick was getting down the side of the
derelict, another unexpected thing happened.
A trim launch, manned by six of Uncle Sam's sailors and carrying four
marines and a lieutenant, shot in between the brig and the submarine.
"Back, all!" shouted the lieutenant, and six oars pushed against the
rushing water in perfect unison, bringing the launch to a halt.
"What's going on here?" asked the lieutenant, standing up, his amazed
eyes wandering from the rowboat in which were Dick and Carl, then to
the panic-stricken men on the derelict, and finally to the submarine.
Captain Nemo, Jr., and Matt had climbed from the conning tower to the
deck of the _Grampus_, in readiness to give Dick a hand with Carl.
"They're threatenin' to blow us out of water with a torpedo," howled
Sixty.
The trap had been sprung, but the filibuster was hoping to brazen his
way through to freedom. But it was a forlorn hope.
"Where did you come from, Sixty?" demanded the lieutenant.
"I left New Orleans on the fruiter, _Santa Maria_," replied Sixty,
"goin' on a hunt for this here brig which was reported somewhere in
the track of steamers for Central America. A schooner from Belize was
waitin' for me, an' yesterday we sighted the schooner from the steamer
and I was put aboard. Then we went lookin' for the brig."
"Where's the schooner now?" inquired the lieutenant.
"She slipped away like a singed cat, a little while ago, and she's
purty nigh hull down."
"She left you and the rest of those men, together with the two boats,
behind?"
"That's the how of it."
"Then it must be that she saw us coming. If she'd been engaged in
honest business, Sixty, she'd have stayed right here. But she didn't
stay. You're treed, my man, and if there are not arms and ammunition in
that old hulk, I'm no prophet."
"There are, sir," called Dick. "I've been in the hold and there are
plenty of Krag-Jorgensens down there, and ammunition, too."
"Who are you?" demanded the lieutenant.
"I and my mate, here, got adrift from the _Santa Maria_ during that
storm, night before last. We've been on the wreck nearly two nights and
a day. Ran into her in the dark, caught a trailing rope and climbed
aboard."
"These are the lads you were looking for, captain?" asked the
lieutenant, turning to Captain Nemo, Jr.
"Yes," was the reply.
"Then you're in luck to find them. What was that shooting a while ago?
It was that that brought us in this direction."
"Sixty and a boat's crew," explained Dick, "tried to get on the brig.
My mate and I held 'em off with rifles, because we knew him for a
treacherous swab who had thrown our raggie, Motor Matt, over the rail
of the _Santa Maria_----"
"Did Sixty do that?" cut in the officer, sternly.
"Yes," spoke up Matt.
"Go on," proceeded the officer, laconically, turning to Dick.
"Well," went on Dick, "when Sixty found he couldn't board the brig, he
went back to the schooner. They had a bow chaser, and another small
cannon over the stern. They let drive at us, then rounded in on the
other side and let drive again, covering the movements of two boats'
crews who laid us aboard. The last shot splintered the bulwarks and
brought down my chum here."
"How badly is he hurt, Dick?" queried Matt.
"Stunned, that's all."
"A nice sort of schooner that is," muttered the officer, staring off to
sea. "If we hadn't had such important work here we might have followed
her and compelled her to heave to. You say there are rifles and
ammunition in the brig?" he added, to Dick.
"Yes; and they don't appear on the manifest."
"How do you know?"
"Here's the manifest and the log."
Dick held the documents out. At a word from the officer the launch was
driven alongside the rowboat, and the papers changed hands.
"Up on deck," the lieutenant said to the marines, "disarm those
scoundrels and make prisoners of them. Look well after Sixty. Two of
you boys come with me."
Two of the sailors dropped their oars and there was a scramble for the
brig's deck.
Dick, dropping down on a thwart, picked up two of the oars and pulled
the boat in which he and Carl found themselves over to the submarine.
"I'd about given you up, old chap!" exclaimed Matt as he seized Dick's
hand.
"There was a time, old ship," replied Dick, "when I'd about given
myself up. But all's well that ends well. If Carl proves to be only
stunned, as I feel sure he will, there's no great damage done for all
Sixty's treacherous planning."
Carl was taken below, Matt and Dick lifting him through the
conning-tower hatch, down the ladder, and then making him comfortable
on the locker in the periscope room.