frighten me, if you'll excuse the expression. I've always had a
hankering to go under the surface, after so many years spent on top.
Once or twice I came near going under, whether I wanted to or not, in
wrecks, but I think I prefer your way. Now, if you're all done, and
don't mind me speaking of it, I think we'll start for your place. We
must hustle, for Berg may yet get on our trail, even if he has got the
wrong route," and he laughed again.
It was no small relief to Mr Swift and Mr. Sharp to learn that Captain
Weston had no objections to a submarine, as they feared he might have.
The captain, in his diffident manner, made friends at once with the
treasure-hunters, and he and Mr. Damon struck up quite an acquaintance.
Tom told of his meeting with the seaman, and the latter related, with
much gusto, the story of how he had fooled Mr. Berg.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to come and take a look at the craft that is
to be our home while we're beneath the water," suggested Mr. Swift and
the sailor assenting, the aged inventor, with much pride, assisted by
Tom, pointed out on the Advance the features of interest. Captain
Weston gave hearty approval, making one or two minor suggestions, which
were carried out.
"And so you launch her to-morrow," he concluded, when he had completed
the inspection "Well, I hope it's a success, if I may be permitted to
say so."
There were busy times around the machine shop next day. So much secrecy
had been maintained that none of the residents, or visitors to the
coast resort, were aware that in their midst was such a wonderful craft
as the submarine. The last touches were put on the under-water ship;
the ways, leading from the shop to the creek, were well greased, and
all was in readiness for the launching. The tide would soon be at
flood, and then the boat would slide down the timbers (at least, that
was the hope of all), and would float in the element meant to receive
her. It was decided that no one should be aboard when the launching
took place, as there was an element of risk attached, since it was not
known just how buoyant the craft was. It was expected she would float,
until the filled tanks took her to the bottom, but there was no telling.
"It will be flood tide now in ten minutes," remarked Captain Weston
quietly, looking at his watch. Then he took an observation through the
telescope. "No hostile ships hanging in the offing," he reported. "All
is favorable, if you don't mind me saying so," and he seemed afraid
lest his remark might give offense.
"Get ready," ordered Mr. Swift. "Tom, see that the ropes are all
clear," for it had been decided to ease the Advance down into the water
by means of strong cables and windlasses, as the creek was so narrow
that the submarine, if launched in the usual way, would poke her nose
into the opposite mud bank and stick there.
"All clear," reported the young inventor.
"High tide!" exclaimed the captain a moment later, snapping shut his
watch.
"Let go!" ordered Mr. Swift, and the various windlasses manned by the
inventor, Tom and the others began to unwind their ropes. Slowly the
ship slid along the greased ways. Slowly she approached the water. How
anxiously they all watched her! Nearer and nearer her blunt nose, with
the electric propulsion plate and the auxiliary propeller, came to the
creek, the waters of which were quiet now, awaiting the turn of the
tide.
Now little waves lapped the steel sides. It was the first contact of
the Advance with her native element.
"Pay out the rope faster!" cried Mr. Swift.
The windlasses were turned more quickly. Foot by foot the craft slid
along until, with a final rush, the stern left the ways and the
submarine was afloat. Now would come the test. Would she ride on an
even keel, or sink out of sight, or turn turtle? They all ran to the
water's edge, Tom in the lead.
"Hurrah!" suddenly yelled the lad, trying to stand on his head. "She
floats! She's a success! Come on! Let's get aboard!"
For, true enough, the Advance was riding like a duck on the water. She
had been proportioned just right, and her lines were perfect. She rode
as majestically as did any ship destined to sail on the surface, and
not intended to do double duty.
"Come on, we must moor her to the pier," directed Mr. Sharp. "The tide
will turn in a few minutes and take her out to sea."
He and Tom entered a small boat, and soon the submarine was tied to a
small dock that had been built for the purpose.
"Now to try the engine," suggested Mr. Swift, who was almost trembling
with eagerness; for the completion of the ship meant much to him.
"One moment," begged Captain Weston. "If you don't mind, I'll take an
observation," he went on, and he swept the horizon with his telescope.
"All clear," he reported. "I think we may go aboard and make a trial
trip."
Little time was lost in entering the cabin and engine-room, Garret
Jackson accompanying the party to aid with the machinery. It did not
take long to start the motors, dynamos and the big gasolene engine that
was the vital part of the craft. A little water was admitted to the
tanks for ballast, since the food and other supplies were not yet on
board. The Advance now floated with the deck aft of the conning tower
showing about two feet above the surface of the creek. Mr. Swift and
Tom entered the pilot house.
"Start the engines," ordered the aged inventor, "and we'll try my new
system of positive and negative electrical propulsion."
There was a hum and whir in the body of the ship beneath the feet of
Tom and his father. Captain Weston stood on the little deck near the
conning tower.
"All ready?" asked the youth through the speaking tube to Mr. Sharp and
Mr. Jackson in the engine-room.
"All ready," came the answer.
Tom threw over the connecting lever, while his father grasped the
steering wheel. The Advance shot forward, moving swiftly along, about
half submerged.
"She goes! She goes!" cried Tom.
"She certainly does, if I may be permitted to say so," was the calm
contribution of Captain Weston. "I congratulate you."
Faster and faster went the new craft. Mr. Swift headed her toward the
open sea, but stopped just before passing out of the creek, as he was
not yet ready to venture into deep water.
"I want to test the auxiliary propellers," he said. After a little
longer trial of the electric propulsion plates, which were found to
work satisfactorily, sending the submarine up and down the creek at a
fast rate, the screws, such as are used on most submarines, were put
into gear. They did well, but were not equal to the plates, nor was so
much expected of them.
"I am perfectly satisfied," announced Mr. Swift as he once more headed
the boat to sea. "I think, Captain Weston, you had better go below now."
"Why so?"
"Because I am going to completely submerge the craft. Tom, close the
conning tower door. Perhaps you will come in here with us, Captain
Weston, though it will be rather a tight fit."
"Thank you, I will. I want to see how it feels to be in a pilot house
under water."
Tom closed the water-tight door of the conning tower. Word was sent
through the tube to the engine-room that a more severe test of the ship
was about to be made. The craft was now outside the line of breakers
and in the open sea.
"Is everything ready, Tom?" asked his father in a quiet voice.
"Everything," replied the lad nervously, for the anticipation of being
about to sink below the surface was telling on them all, even on the
calm, old sea captain.
"Then open the tanks and admit the water," ordered Mr. Swift.
His son turned a valve and adjusted some levers. There was a hissing
sound, and the Advance began sinking. She was about to dive beneath the
surface of the ocean, and those aboard her were destined to go through
a terrible experience before she rose again.
Chapter Eleven
On the Ocean Bed
Lower and lower sank the submarine. There was a swirling and foaming of
the water as she went down, caused by the air bubbles which the craft
carried with her in her descent. Only the top of the conning tower was
out of water now, the ocean having closed over the deck and the rounded
back of the boat. Had any one been watching they would have imagined
that an accident was taking place.
In the pilot house, with its thick glass windows, Tom, his father and
Captain Weston looked over the surface of the ocean, which every minute
was coming nearer and nearer to them.
"We'll be all under in a few seconds," spoke Tom in a solemn voice, as
he listened to the water hissing into the tanks.
"Yes, and then we can see what sort of progress we will make," added
Mr. Swift. "Everything is going fine, though," he went on cheerfully.
"I believe I have a good boat."
"There is no doubt of it in my mind," remarked Captain Weston, and Tom
felt a little disappointed that the sailor did not shout out some such
expression as "Shiver my timbers!" or "Keel-haul the main braces,
there, you lubber!" But Captain Weston was not that kind of a sailor,
though his usually quiet demeanor could be quickly dropped on
necessity, as Tom learned later.
A few minutes more and the waters closed over the top of the conning
tower. The Advance was completely submerged. Through the thick glass
windows of the pilot house the occupants looked out into the greenish
water that swirled about them; but it could not enter. Then, as the
boat went lower, the light from above gradually died out, and the
semi-darkness gave place to gloom.
"Turn on the electrics and the searchlight, Tom," directed his father.
There was the click of a switch, and the conning tower was flooded with
light. But as this had the effect of preventing the three from peering
out into the water, just as one in a lighted room cannot look out into
the night, Tom shut them off and switched on the great searchlight.
This projected its powerful beams straight ahead and there, under the
ocean, was a pathway of illumination for the treasure-seekers.
"Fine!" cried Captain Weston, with more enthusiasm than he had yet
manifested. "That's great, if you don't mind me mentioning it. How deep
are we?"
Tom glanced at a gage on the side of the pilot tower.
"Only about sixty feet," he answered.
"Then don't go any deeper!" cried the captain hastily. "I know these
waters around here, and that's about all the depth you've got. You'll
be on the bottom in a minute."
"I intend to get on the bottom after a while," said Mr. Swift, "but not
here. I want to try for a greater distance under water before I come to
rest on the ocean's bed. But I think we are deep enough for a test.
Tom, close the tank intake pipes and we'll see how the Advance will
progress when fully submerged."
The hissing stopped, and then, wishing to see how the motors and other
machinery would work, the aged inventor and his son, accompanied by
Captain Weston, descended from the conning tower, by means of an inner
stairway, to the interior of the ship. The submarine could be steered
and managed from below or above. She was now floating about sixty-five
feet below the surface of the bay.
"Well, how do you like it?" asked Tom of Mr. Damon, as he saw his
friend in an easy chair in the living-room or main cabin of the craft,
looking out of one of the plate-glass windows on the side.
"Bless my spectacles, it's the most wonderful thing I ever dreamed of!"
cried the queer character, as he peered at the mass of water before
him. "To think that I'm away down under the surface, and yet as dry as
a bone. Bless my necktie, but it's great! What are we going to do now?"
"Go forward," replied the young inventor.
"Perhaps I had better make an observation," suggested Captain Weston,
taking his telescope from under his arm, where he had carried it since
entering the craft, and opening it. "We may run afoul of something, if
you don't mind me mentioning such a disagreeable subject." Then, as he
thought of the impossibility of using his glass under water, he closed
it.
"I shall have little use for this here, I'm afraid," he remarked with a
smile. "Well, there's some consolation. We're not likely to meet many
ships in this part of the ocean. Other vessels are fond enough of
remaining on the surface. I fancy we shall have the depths to
ourselves, unless we meet a Government submarine, and they are hardly
able to go as deep as we can. No, I guess we won't run into anything
and I can put this glass away."
"Unless we run into Berg and his crowd," suggested Tom in a low voice.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Captain Weston, for he did not want Mr. Swift to
worry over the unscrupulous agent. "No, I don't believe we'll meet
them, Tom. I guess Berg is trying to work out the longitude and
latitude I gave him. I wish I could see his face when he realizes that
he's been deceived by that fake map."
"Well, I hope he doesn't discover it too soon and trail us," went on
the lad. "But they're going to start the machinery now. I suppose you
and I had better take charge of the steering of the craft. Dad will
want to be in the engine-room."
"All right," replied the captain, and he moved forward with the lad to
a small compartment, shut off from the living-room, that served as a
pilot house when the conning tower was not used. The same levers,
wheels and valves were there as up above, and the submarine could be
managed as well from there as from the other place.
"Is everything all right?" asked Mr Swift as he went into the
engine-room, where Garret Jackson and Mr. Sharp were busy with oil cans.
"Everything," replied the balloonist. "Are you going to start now?"
"Yes, we're deep enough for a speed trial. We'll go out to sea,
however, and try for a lower depth record, as soon as there's enough
water. Start the engine."
A moment later the powerful electric currents were flowing into the
forward and aft plates, and the Advance began to gather way, forging
through the water.
"Straight ahead, out to sea, Tom," called his father to him.
"Aye, aye, sir," responded the youth.
"Ha! Quite seaman-like, if you don't mind a reference to it," commented
Captain Weston with a smile. "Mind your helm, boy, for you don't want
to poke her nose into a mud bank, or run up on a shoal."
"Suppose you steer?" suggested the lad. "I'd rather take lessons for a
while."
"All right. Perhaps it will be safer. I know these waters from the top,
though I can't say as much for the bottom. However, I know where the
shoals are."
The powerful searchlight was turned, so as to send its beams along the
path which the submarine was to follow, and then, as she gathered
speed, she shot ahead, gliding through the waters like a fish.
Mr. Damon divided his time between the forward pilot-room, the
living-apartment, and the place where Mr. Swift, Garret Jackson and Mr.
Sharp were working over the engines. Every few minutes he would bless
some part of himself, his clothing, or the ship. Finally the old man
settled down to look through the plate-glass windows in the main
apartment.
On and on went the submarine. She behaved perfectly, and was under
excellent control. Some times Tom, at the request of his father, would
send her toward the surface by means of the deflecting rudder. Then she
would dive to the bottom again. Once, as a test, she was sent obliquely
to the surface, her tower just emerging, and then she darted downward
again, like a porpoise that had come up to roll over, and suddenly
concluded to seek the depths. In fact, had any one seen the maneuver
they would have imagined the craft was a big fish disporting itself.
Captain Weston remained at Tom's side, giving him instructions, and
watching the compass in order to direct the steering so as to avoid
collisions. For an hour or more the craft was sent almost straight
ahead at medium speed. Then Mr. Swift, joining his son and the
captain, remarked:
"How about depth of water here, Captain Weston?"
"You've got more than a mile."
"Good! Then I'm going down to the bottom of the sea! Tom, fill the
tanks still more.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the lad gaily. "Now for a new experience!"
"And use the deflecting rudder, also," advised his father. "That will
hasten matters."
Five minutes later there was a slight jar noticeable.
"Bless my soul! What's that?" cried Mr. Damon. "Have we hit something?"
"Yes," answered Tom with a smile.
"What, for gracious sake?"
"The bottom of the sea. We're on the bed of the ocean."
Chapter Twelve
For a Breath of Air
They could hardly realize it, yet the depth-gage told the story. It
registered a distance below the surface of the ocean of five thousand
seven hundred feet--a little over a mile. The Advance had actually come
to rest on the bottom of the Atlantic.
"Hurrah!" cried Tom. "Let's get on the diving suits, dad, and walk
about on land under water for a change."
"No," said Mr. Swift soberly. "We will hardly have time for that now.
Besides, the suits are not yet fitted with the automatic air-tanks, and
we can't use them. There are still some things to do before we start on
our treasure cruise. But I want to see how the plates are standing
this pressure."
The Advance was made with a triple hull, the spaces between the layers
of plates being filled with a secret material, capable of withstanding
enormous pressure, as were also the plates themselves. Mr. Swift, aided
by Mr. Jackson and Captain Weston, made a thorough examination, and
found that not a drop of water had leaked in, nor was there the least
sign that any of the plates had given way under the terrific strain.
"She's as tight as a drum, if you will allow me to make that
comparison," remarked Captain Weston modestly. "I couldn't ask for a
dryer ship."
"Well, let's take a look around by means the searchlight and the
observation windows, and then we'll go back," suggested Mr. Swift. "It
will take about two days to get the stores and provisions aboard and
rig up the diving suits; then we will start for the sunken treasure."
There were several powerful searchlights on the Advance, so arranged
that the bow, stern or either side could be illuminated independently.
There were also observation windows near each light.
In turn the powerful rays were cast first at the bow and then aft. In
the gleams could be seen the sandy bed of the ocean, covered with
shells of various kinds. Great crabs walked around on their long,
jointed legs, and Tom saw some lobsters that would have brought joy to
the heart of a fisherman.
"Look at the big fish!" cried Mr. Damon suddenly, and he pointed to
some dark, shadowy forms that swam up to the glass windows, evidently
puzzled by the light.
"Porpoises," declared Captain Weston briefly, "a whole school of them."
The fish seemed suddenly to multiply, and soon those in the submarine
felt curious tremors running through the whole craft.
"The fish are rubbing up against it," cried Tom. "They must think we
came down here to allow them to scratch their backs on the steel
plates."
For some time they remained on the bottom, watching the wonderful sight
of the fishes that swam all about them.
"Well, I think we may as well rise," announced Mr. Swift, after they
had been on the bottom about an hour, moving here and there. "We didn't
bring any provisions, and I'm getting hungry, though I don't know how
the others of you feel about it."
"Bless my dinner-plate, I could eat, too!" cried Mr. Damon. "Go up, by
all means. We'll get enough of under-water travel once we start for the
treasure."
"Send her up, Tom," called his father. "I want to make a few notes on
some needed changes and improvements."
Tom entered the lower pilot house, and turned the valve that opened the
tanks. He also pulled the lever that started the pumps, so that the
water ballast would be more quickly emptied, as that would render the
submarine buoyant, and she would quickly shoot to the surface. To the
surprise of the lad, however, there followed no outrushing of the
water. The Advance remained stationary on the ocean bed. Mr. Swift
looked up from his notes.
"Didn't you hear me ask you to send her up, Tom?" he inquired mildly.
"I did, dad, but something seems to be the matter," was the reply.
"Matter? What do you mean?" and the aged inventor hastened to where his
son and Captain Weston were at the wheels, valves and levers.
"Why, the tanks won't empty, and the pumps don't seem to work."
"Let me try," suggested Mr. Swift, and he pulled the various handles.
There was no corresponding action of the machinery.
"That's odd," he remarked in a curious voice "Perhaps something has
gone wrong with the connections. Go look in the engine-room, and ask
Mr. Sharp if everything is all right there."
Tom made a quick trip, returning to report that the dynamos, motors and
gas engine were running perfectly.
"Try to work the tank levers and pumps from the conning tower,"
suggested Captain Weston. "Sometimes I've known the steam steering gear
to play tricks like that."
Tom hurried up the circular stairway into the tower. He pulled the
levers and shifted the valves and wheels there. But there was no
emptying of the water tanks. The weight and pressure of water in them
still held the submarine on the bottom of the sea, more than a mile
from the surface. The pumps in the engine-room were working at top
speed, but there was evidently something wrong in the connections. Mr.
Swift quickly came to this conclusion.
"We must repair it at once," he said. "Tom, come to the engine-room.
You and I, with Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sharp, will soon have it in shape
again."
"Is there any danger?" asked Mr. Damon in a perturbed voice. "Bless my
soul, it's unlucky to have an accident on our trial trip."
"Oh, we must expect accidents," declared Mr. Swift with a smile. "This
is nothing."
But it proved to be more difficult than he had imagined to re-establish
the connection between the pumps and the tanks. The valves, too, had
clogged or jammed, and as the pressure outside the ship was so great,
the water would not run out of itself. It must be forced.
For an hour or more the inventor, his son and the others, worked away.
They could accomplish nothing. Tom looked anxiously at his parent when
the latter paused in his efforts.
"Don't worry," advised the aged inventor. "It's got to come right
sooner or later."
Just then Mr. Damon, who had been wandering about the ship, entered the
engine-room.
"Do you know," he said, "you ought to open a window, or something."
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Tom quickly, looking to see if the odd
man was joking.
"Well, of course I don't exactly mean a window," explained Mr. Damon,
"but we need fresh air."
"Fresh air!" There was a startled note in Mr. Swift's voice as he
repeated the words.
"Yes, I can hardly breathe in the living-room, and it's not much better
here."
"Why, there ought to be plenty of fresh air," went on the inventor. "It
is renewed automatically."
Tom jumped up and looked at an indicator. He uttered a startled cry.
"The air hasn't been changed in the last hour!" he exclaimed. "It is
bad. There's not enough oxygen in it. I notice it, now that I've
stopped working. The gage indicates it, too. The automatic air-changer
must have stopped working. I'll fix it."
He hurried to the machine which was depended on to supply fresh air to
the submarine.
"Why, the air tanks are empty!" the young inventor cried. "We haven't
any more air except what is in the ship now!"
"And we're rapidly breathing that up," added Captain Weston solemnly.
"Can't you make more?" cried Mr. Damon. "I thought you said you could
make oxygen aboard the ship."
"We can," answered Mr. Swift, "but I did not bring along a supply of
the necessary chemicals. I did not think we would be submerged long
enough for that. But there should have been enough in the reserve tank
to last several days. How about it, Tom?"
"It's all leaked out, or else it wasn't filled," was the despairing
answer. "All the air we have is what's in the ship, and we can't make
more."
The treasure-seekers looked at each other. It was an awful situation.
"Then the only thing to do is to fix the machinery and rise to the
surface," said Mr. Sharp simply. "We can have all the air we want,
then."
"Yes, but the machinery doesn't seem possible of being fixed," spoke
Tom in a low voice.
"We must do it!" cried his father.
They set to work again with fierce energy, laboring for their very
lives. They all knew that they could not long remain in the ship
without oxygen. Nor could they desert it to go to the surface, for the
moment they left the protection of the thick steel sides the terrible
pressure of the water would kill them. Nor were the diving suits
available. They must stay in the craft and die a miserable death--unless
the machinery could be repaired and the Advance sent to the surface.
The emergency expanding lifting tank was not yet in working order.