FRANK’S ADVENTURES.
Frank Reade, Jr., left in the cabin of the sunken galleon was certainly
in a position which it is hardly possible for one to adequately realize.
All hope seemed lost.
The failure of his friends to return or open the hatch had satisfied him
that their fate was sealed.
His one aim now was to get out of the galleon’s cabin.
So he rained blow after blow with his ax upon the closed hatch. But it
seemed obdurate.
Above one layer of planks was another.
This was discouraging.
Yet he kept on and after a long period of fatiguing work actually
succeeded in cutting a hole through the hatch.
But as he did so his ax sunk into some substance which moved and fell in
some quantity. It was sand.
“Mercy!” muttered the despair-stricken man, “it is true that the sand
has again covered the deck up.”
In this event his efforts to dig his way out would be futile.
He was aweary and exhausted. In fact, he had barely strength enough left
to creep down the ladder.
A strange drowsiness came over him. He could not resist it.
He crept back to the captain’s cabin and sank down upon a couch. Almost
instantly he was asleep.
How long he slept he never knew.
When he awoke he started up with a queer sense of his surroundings. In a
few moments, however, memory supplied the blank.
Then he looked about him in a hopeless way.
He wondered if rescue had yet come, and arose to open the door into the
main cabin.
As he did so he was startled at an unexpected sight.
The hatch was open and a man’s body was just sliding down through it.
“Saved!” gasped the imprisoned man with a wild thrill. Then he ceased to
speak.
He stood like one overcome with horror.
“On my word,” he finally managed to mutter, “fate has played it into
Parker’s hands after all.”
For it required no second glance for him to see that the new-comer was
one of the Aurelian’s crew.
The peculiar fit of his diving suit and the life lines were evidence of
this.
For a moment Frank knew not what to do.
Should he face the new-comers and give them battle? He could hardly hope
to successfully meet such odds.
What should he do?
In lieu of a better move he stepped behind the captain’s big desk.
Through an orifice in the scrolled frame he could see and not be seen.
Down into the main cabin came four of the Aurelian’s men.
They were held at bay for some moments by the ghostly crew of the
Veneta. But the love of gold overcame all their scruples finally and
they came across to the door of the captain’s room.
They stepped inside, and as Frank had done before them, carefully
examined everything.
Fortunately Frank had closed the door to the treasure vault; they did
not find this.
But they came up to the captain’s desk and proceeded to ransack it.
Frank watched them intently.
What should he do? In the very indecision of the moment the divers from
the Aurelian moved away.
They passed from the captain’s cabin into the forward cabin; for a
moment Frank hesitated.
It would have been an easy matter for him to have reached out and cut
the life lines of his foes.
But he shrank from such an act of murder with repugnance.
His one purpose was to reach the gangway and get out of the hold of the
vessel as soon as possible.
It seemed to him that his best move was to regain the deck of the
submarine boat and rejoin his friends as soon as possible.
So, when the divers had passed from the captain’s cabin into the main
cabin, he slipped out from his concealment and started for the gangway.
Fatal move!
One of the Aurelian’s men turned just in time to see him. Instantly the
fellow raised his ax and hurled it at Frank.
It was at close range, and the blunt head of it struck the young
inventor’s helmet.
The shock was sufficient to instantly deprive him of his senses.
He fell like a log.
In a moment his captors were upon him. One of them fiercely raised his
ax to brain the defenseless man.
But another caught his arm, and thrusting his helmet against his,
shouted:
“Avast there, Parker! Don’t kill him yet!”
“Why not, Warren? Let go of my arm! There is no reason why I should
spare his life!”
“Yes, there is!”
“What is it?”
“It is likely that he can give us information in regard to the galleon’s
gold. At any rate do not kill him yet, messmate.”
Captain Warren’s admonition had its effect upon Gilbert Parker. The
would-be murderer lowered his ax.
“All right, Warren,” he said; “perhaps you’re right after all.”
Frank’s body was lifted up and he was placed upon a rotting couch near.
He was already regaining his consciousness.
But at this moment Warren gave a start. He placed his helmet to Parker’s
and shouted:
“A danger signal from above!”
“What is it?”
“Wait until I can learn.”
Warren was enabled to speak through his tube with those on the
Aurelian’s deck.
Presently he turned to Parker and said:
“A hurricane is coming up. Mate Clark has already got the anchor under
way, and has recalled our boat.”
“Then we have got to give up the search for now?”
“Yes.”
“But how can we escape the hurricane?”
“Make for Miller’s Cay, which is within sight of the ship’s masthead. We
can then return and reclaim the galleon’s gold.”
The diving lines did not proceed from the Aurelian’s deck, but from a
small launch which was moored at some little distance from the ship.
So when the crew of the Dolphin saw the Aurelian weigh anchor the divers
were not aboard her, nor did they get aboard until some while later.
A consultation was held as to what it was best to do with their captive.
“Take off his weights and take him aboard with us,” cried Parker.
“No!” objected Warren.
“I have a better plan.”
“Ah, what is it?”
“Leave him here. Batten down the hatches and let him stay until we
return. Bind him so that he cannot move!”
“Capital!” cried Parker. “We can decide what else to do with him when we
return!”
“Exactly.”
This move decided upon, no time was lost in executing it.
Frank was quickly bound hand and foot. Then he was left lying upon his
back in the main cabin, with the floating corpses all about him.
His captors disappeared up the stairway and he was left alone.
He heard them batten down the hatch and cover it over with sand. Then he
groaned:
“Oh, my soul! I am truly lost. The end of this can only be death.”
* * * * *
The sharp cry uttered by Hartley at the close of a preceding chapter
while he and Pomp were sailing blindly about in the deep sea with the
Dolphin was well warranted.
Afar in the distance the captain saw a faint star of light.
It was not in the searchlight’s path, and consequently easily seen. Pomp
also saw it.
“What is that?”
“Massy Lordy!” gasped Pomp. “Wha’ am it but de helmet lamp ob some one
ob our men!”
“It must be!” cried Hartley hopefully, “it can be nothing else.”
“Yo’ am right!”
“Turn the searchlight on to it!”
A sharp cry of joy burst from the lips of each. The distant figure of a
man was seen.
“Hurrah!” cried Hartley; “by the North Star if that isn’t one of our
men. We shall save him!”
“Golly! dat am good luck!” cried Pomp joyfully.
It was the turning of the searchlight full upon them that had caused
Barney and Clifford such a thrill of surprise as was depicted at the
close of a preceding chapter.
When the remote chance of a reunion was fully considered this could be
deemed nothing short of miraculous.
The submarine voyagers certainly had good reason to congratulate
themselves.
The submarine boat now bore down upon the two lost voyagers.
“Thank God, Barney, we are saved!” cried Clifford, joyfully; “fate is
with us!”
“Begorra, we’ll be on deck yet, be the sowl av Pat Murphy!” cried
Barney. “Shure, it’s a bit av luck fer us!”
Nearer drew the submarine boat. In a short while it loomed up near at
hand.
Then the two lost men clambered aboard.
They were quickly in the cabin, and were fairly embraced by Pomp and
Hartley.
Mutual congratulations followed, and then all was fully explained. After
both stories were told, Barney cried:
“Begorra, phwat do yez think has happened to Frank Reade, Jr.?”
“Golly, I done fink yo’ ought to know de mos’ about dat!” cried Pomp.
“Be me sowl, we left him in the cabin av the sunken ship!”
All looked at each other.
“Then he must be there yet!” said Clifford.
“Of course,” agreed Hartley. “God grant no harm has come to him!”
“I cannot see why it should,” said Clifford. “At least our best move is
to go right back there and find him. There is no doubt but that we shall
find him all right, unless——”
The same thought crossed the minds of all in that moment. They
remembered the Aurelian’s men and the opportunity they had.
If they had come upon Frank and made him a prisoner, there was no
telling what the villain Parker might do with him.
“Golly!” cried Pomp, “if dey hab done Marse Frank any harm dey bettah
say dere prayers, fo’ dey will pay fo’ it as suah as I is a bo’n
niggah.”
“That is right, Pomp,” declared Clifford. “We are all with you to a man.
It shall be so. But we will continue to hope that he is all right.”
“Yas, sah!”
At once preparations were made for resuming the search for the sunken
galleon.
It was not so very difficult to locate her.
Bearings were obtained and then the Dolphin sailed down for the spot. As
she drew nearer the reef nothing was seen of the Aurelian’s divers.
But traces of their visit were discovered.
In the sand there were spades and other tools left by them. This would
seem to be evidence that they meant to return.
“On me worrud as a gintleman,” cried Barney, “I belave they’ve done
harrum to Misther Frank.”
“Let us hope we will find him in the galleon’s cabin,” said Clifford.
“Anchor the boat, boys.”
The Dolphin was quickly set down and anchored. Then lots were drawn to
see who were to be the favored ones to visit the galleon.
It fell to Hartley and Pomp. This seemed just enough, as they had
previously remained aboard the Dolphin.
“All right,” cried Clifford. “I find no fault. Only bring Frank back
with you.”
“Golly! we done do dat if we can, yo’ bet,” cried the darky.
In a few moments they had donned their diving suits and left the
Dolphin. They crossed the intervening distance to the deck of the
galleon.
The sand had been excavated, and the hatch was open.
One moment the two explorers paused at the head of the cabin stairs.
Then Hartley said:
“Follow me, Pomp!”
“A’right, sah!”
Down the stairs they went. The sight which they met appalled them.
The floating corpses was more than Pomp could stand.
If there was one thing the darky had a horror of it was a corpse.
“Massy Lordy!” he groaned; “de debbil am down dere fo’ shuah! He done
git dis chile!”
“Nonsense!” cried Hartley, impatiently. “Come along, you black rascal!”
But no amount of persuasion could induce Pomp to enter the dead men’s
cabin.
Hartley gave up the task.
“Well,” he said, “I must go alone. Keep guard at the hatchway, then.”
“I do dat,” agreed Pomp.
Down into the cabin Hartley went. He pushed the floating bodies aside.
He passed from one part of the ship to another. There were marks of a
former visit plain enough.
Someone had entered before him.
But the object of his quest—Frank Reade, Jr.—could not be found.
There was no trace of him to be found anywhere.
It was very mysterious.
To the reader this will seem strange, as we left him securely bound and
the hatches closed by the departing divers of the Aurelian.