It was an exhilarating experience--this of racing through the wind-torn
water. As Ned and Herc, who had been posted on deck-watch, for so
long as the submarine cruised on the surface, stood in the lee of the
conning-tower, muffled up in their warm reefers, they fairly chuckled
with delight. Urged forward by her three propellers, the submarine’s
form slipped through the tumble of waters like a swift, gliding thing
endowed with life.
“Wonder when we are going to dive?” said Ned, as on and on, through the
dark, raced the little craft, her rounded steel sides gleaming wet with
flung spray.
“Hope they don’t forget us when they make up their minds to go under,”
said Herc, with a grin; “it’s pretty dusty on the water to-night.”
“No danger of our being forgotten,” rejoined Ned, with a laugh. “Wow,
but they are speeding her up. I suppose they want to show that official
outfit of big bugs what she can do.”
This was the case. In the conning-tower, crowded closely together in
that narrow space, were the naval officers. Their faces fairly shone as
the Lockyer plunged through the heaving water-rows.
“This craft beats anything we have in the service up to date!”
exclaimed Commander McGill enthusiastically.
“And I think you’ll find she is as capable under the water as she is on
the surface,” put in Mr. Lockyer, his first apprehensive nervousness
now gone. His boat was behaving magnificently. He felt that he could
ask no more of any bit of machinery.
“Shall we prepare for a dive, sir?” inquired Lieutenant Parry.
“Not now, Parry,” rejoined the Navy captain, glancing at his watch. “I
want to keep this up for at least an hour. It is a severe test----”
“But she’ll stand it. You’ll see,” interrupted Mr. Lockyer eagerly.
On and on rushed the Lockyer, her decks gleaming wetly as her bow threw
back clouds of spray. The boys on deck were wet through, but in the
exhilaration of the moment they did not feel it. This sensation of
hissing through the water, fairly in the midst of the rolling waves,
was a blood-stirring one.
Suddenly, Ned seized Herc’s arm, and pointed out ahead.
“Look--look there, Herc!” he exclaimed.
The other, following the direction of his comrade’s arm, instantly
perceived, not more than half a mile off, the lights of a boat of some
kind.
“They’re coming straight for us,” cried Herc; “what do they want to do?
Run us down?”
“No danger of that,” laughed Ned; “our sailing lights are on. I guess
they’re holding that tack till it’s time to go about. She’s a sailing
craft of some sort. I can see the black outline of her sail.”
For a few moments more they watched, and then Herc gave a cry.
“It’s that catboat.”
“What? The one we saw leave Grayport to-night?”
“That’s right.”
“Stay here a minute, Herc,” exclaimed Ned; “I’m going forward to see if
our sailing lights are all right.”
The catboat was only a few hundred feet from them now, and still
she had not altered her course. Ned slipped forward, through the
water that swirled about on the decks as high as his knees. The side
lights, elevated on iron frames, were found to be burning brightly and
undimmed. His supposition that they had gone out and that the catboat
had not sighted them was, therefore, untenable.
Hastening back, Ned placed his lips to a speaking-tube at the side of
the tower and shouted in to the helmsman:
“Catboat off the starboard bow, sir, and making dead for us.”
“Aye, aye,” came back the hail from Midshipman Stark, who had the
wheel. “We see her. Can you make out if she’s going about?”
Ned placed his hands to his mouth funnel-wise and hailed the oncoming
craft.
“Catboat ahoy!”
Then down the wind there came a flung reply:
“Aye, aye. Keep on your course. We’ll tack directly.”
“They’d better hurry up, then,” thought Ned; “if they don’t they’ll be
into us before you can say ‘knife.’”
For a brief, nerve-tingling space of time they kept their eyes glued
on the little craft. So near was she now that they could almost have
thrown any object from the submarine’s deck upon hers.
“See, they’re going to tack!” cried Herc; “they’re drawing the sheet
tight and----They’re over!”
“Good heavens!” burst from Ned, as the sailing craft seemed to leap up
into the wind for an instant, and then, without the slightest warning,
capsized on her side.
Instantly the top of the conning-tower was thrown open by those inside
who had witnessed the accident at the same moment.
Life-belts were hastily thrown out, and Ned, giving a strong heave,
hurled one in the direction of the capsized catboat. Herc did the
same. Both buoys were of the Navy type, carrying a small receptacle of
chemical substances.
The chemicals, when they struck the water, ignited and burst into a
steady blue flame. They illuminated the water with a ghastly radiance.
In the weird glare those on the submarine could see two black objects
struggling in the water alongside the catboat. The next instant the
castaways were perceived to crawl out of the water and climb painfully
up on to the keel of the capsized boat. They clung there, shouting,
while Midshipman Stark maneuvered the Lockyer alongside.
Save for a few sharp words of command, none of the Navy party had shown
the least trace of excitement. Trained to accept any emergency with
stiff upper lips, Uncle Sam’s sailors, be they officers or men, don’t
waste words. But what they lack in hysterics, they make up in action.
In less time than it takes to tell it, the submarine was alongside the
capsized boat, and Ned and Herc were reaching out their arms to the two
men on her keel. One of them, they noticed, clutched a box tightly in
his arms.
“Jump,” urged Ned; “we’ll catch you.”
The man with the box made a leap and slipped flounderingly on the wet
steel plates of the diving vessel’s side. He almost dropped his burden,
but recovered it instantly. The other, however, seemed in no hurry. He
was apparently fumbling with something at his waist.
“Hanged if he hasn’t got on a life-belt,” exclaimed Herc, as the first
of the survivors was hurried below.
“That’s right,” exclaimed Ned; “when, on earth, did he have time to put
one on?”
In fact, it did seem impossible, so suddenly had the catboat capsized,
that her occupants would have had time to strap on the safety devices.
Did they then know that she was going to capsize before she went over?
But Ned had not time to revolve the puzzling question in his mind. The
remaining man now made a clumsy jump, and almost missed the submarine,
but strong arms caught him, and he was hauled on board. As he was
dragged over the rail, however, something fell from his pocket which
struck the steel deck with a metallic ring. It went bounding off, and
vanished with a splash.
“A revolver!” gasped Ned; “now, what does a man, out for a sail in a
catboat, want with a revolver?”
Both the rescued men were hurried below, and as Lieutenant Parry, who
had emerged on deck, had noted by this time the drenched condition of
Ned and Herc, he ordered them also below to change their uniforms and
put on dry clothing. They entered one of the small staterooms to do
so. As it happened, it was one adjoining the room into which the two
rescued men had been ushered by the submarine’s officers for the same
purpose.
Although the staterooms appeared to be separated by thick, steel
bulkheads, as a matter of fact these partitions were not so solid as
they appeared. At the top of each was a lattice-work strip, through
which air could circulate while the submarine was under the water.
Evidently, the rescued men were not aware of this, for they took no
care to sink their voices as they talked, and their conversation was
not of a kind, so the boys judged, anyway, that they would have wished
to blurt out from the housetops.
As the voices came floating through the lattice-work at the top of the
bulkheads, Ned gripped Herc’s arm to enjoin absolute silence. He did
not, of course, wish to betray, by the slightest sound, the fact that
they were there.
“Well, Ignacio,” came one voice, “the first part of our task is
accomplished. It was easier than I thought it would have been. For a
moment I almost lost the box. A good thing they didn’t try to examine
it.”
“That is right, Guiseppi,” was the reply; “these fools on the submarine
fell into the trap very neatly. However, the hardest part of our duty
lies still before us.”
“Yes, but the reward makes it well worth the risk. If we are detected
it will be easy to say that we were ignorant and wished to examine the
machinery. They will never suspect. These Americans have the heads of
wood and the senses of stone.”
The other laughed aloud, which brought an angry caution from his friend.
“Not so loud,” he enjoined; “it would not sound natural for shipwrecked
men to be laughing. Play your part well, Ignacio. We must assume the
sorrowful faces of men who have met with a serious accident.”
“Do not fear for me, my friend. I can assume the doleful pose to
perfection,” rejoined the other. “Come, you have your dry clothes on?”
“Yes. I am already invested in my American uniform,” rejoined the
other, with a chuckle. “If they knew what we were on board for do you
think they would treat us with such hospitality?”
“I think they would show us the hospitality of throwing us overboard,
my dear Guiseppi,” chuckled Ignacio.
The listening boys heard the door open and close, and the next instant,
out in the cabin, they could hear the two castaways giving a woeful
narration of their disaster to Lieutenant Parry.
“Signor Captain,” one was saying, “the tiller jammed so hard that
before the poor boat could come about--poof!--the wind had blown her
over and, behold, if it had not been for your extreme kindness, we
would have been drowned.”
“And, in my opinion, that would have been a fitting fate for the
rascals,” muttered Ned, viciously poking his head into a dry shirt as
he spoke.
“Then you have made up your mind that it was all a trick?” asked Herc.
“A plan hatched up to get a chance to board the Lockyer?”
“Isn’t that evident from the way they were talking?” inquired Ned. “I
mean to lose no time in communicating with Lieutenant Parry; those
fellows will bear watching.”
“It looks to me as if it is all part of the scheme to discredit the
Lockyer boats with the Government,” said Herc.
“That’s the way it strikes me, too. Are you through changing? Yes--so
am I. Come on, we’ll get Lieutenant Parry aside and tell him about it.”
When they emerged into the cabin once more the two rescued men were
seated on a divan, talking to the naval officer. Ned noticed that they
were both dark, foreign-looking fellows, one of whom had a particularly
sinister face, the evil expression of which was not relieved by a livid
scar running down one side of his countenance, from his temple to his
chin.
Both looked the very picture of dejection. Just as miserable and
forlorn-appearing as two men might have been expected to be who had
just lost a valuable boat. The better to act their part, they were
speaking about demanding damages as the boys came up. Nor had they
forgotten to express a proper amount of surprise at finding themselves
on board a submarine craft.
But, as our readers will suppose, their plight created no sympathy
in the hearts of Ned and Herc. In fact, it was all the red-headed lad
could do--he admitted afterward--to restrain himself from jumping on
the scarred man and giving him a sound thrashing.
“Can we speak to you a moment, sir?” asked Ned, saluting as they came
up.
“Certainly, Strong,” said the officer, facing around and looking rather
surprised; “what is it?”
“Something to do with the machinery, sir. Can you step this way a
minute?”
Seeing by the look in Ned’s eyes that he had something of importance to
communicate, the officer followed the boys across the cabin and through
the bulkhead door separating it from the engine room.
“Now, Strong, what is it?” he asked as Ned carefully closed the door
behind them and led the way to a leather-covered divan, on which the
engineer was wont to sit in the intervals of his duty. Just now,
however, both he and his crew were busy about the engines, and paid
little attention to the intruders in their realm.
“It’s about those two men, sir.”
“Those two poor Italians, you mean?”
“Poor Italians, nothing--that is, I beg your pardon, sir,” burst out
Herc; “but if we are not mistaken, they are two precious rascals who
have the destruction or injury of the submarine in their black hearts.”
“What!” exclaimed the amazed officer; “explain yourself at once,
Taylor.”
But it was Ned who told the story. The red-headed Herc was too
explosive with indignation to relate it coherently. The officer
listened attentively, but in silence. When Ned had quite finished he
spoke:
“You have been of inestimable service to-night, boys,” he said; “there
is no doubt in my mind, from what you have told me, that those ruffians
have some scheme in mind. But what can it be? They cannot hope to harm
the engines or any of the machinery, for it is all closely guarded
while we are cruising.”
“It occurred to me, sir,” said Ned soberly, “that it might be a good
idea to get hold of and examine that box they brought on board. It
didn’t look just natural, sir, for a man, whose boat has capsized, to
have presence of mind enough to still retain possession of a box in the
way those fellows did.”
“That’s right, my boy,” responded the officer; “but the question is,
how are we going to get a chance to examine it? We cannot seize these
men by force on the mere suspicion that they are ruffians--although
I think that fact is pretty well established. Then, too, any sort of
disturbance on board on this critical night would interfere with the
tests and, perhaps, ruin our friend Lockyer’s chances to dispose of his
boats.”
“That is so,” agreed Ned soberly; “but, sir, I’ve been thinking of
a plan by which we can get access to the box. Taylor and I have the
graveyard watch at eight bells (midnight). You will be in charge of the
vessel at that hour. Now, if I give an alarm that the boat is sinking,
we can get those fellows out of their cabin, and while they are
outside, Taylor and I can slip in and examine that box.”
“A splendid idea, Strong; but how are we to avoid waking the others?”
“We will only pound on their door, sir. They will naturally imagine
that the others have also been called.”
“Strong, it seems to me that your plan is a perfect one. In case there
is nothing in the box we can say that it was a false alarm that roused
us out.”
“And in case there is?” asked Ned solemnly.
“The United States Navy has a way of dealing with such men,” was the
grim reply.
“Oh, Mr. Parry!” came a hail from the conning-tower at this moment.
“Yes, sir,” rejoined the officer, springing to the foot of the steel
ladder, as he recognized Captain McGill’s voice.
“The hour on the surface is up. Will you have the necessary orders
given for submersion?”
“Aye, aye, sir!” came the brisk response.
Instantly sharp commands rang out through the submarine. There was a
clamor of metal and a hissing of intake valves as the salt water rushed
into the submersion tanks. In the engine room, speed was reduced almost
to the neutral point as the diving vessel sank. As her floors slanted
and the downward, forward rush began, the dial hand on the wall of the
cabin began to move.
Ten--twelve--twenty--forty--fifty--sixty, seventy--one hundred fathoms,
and still it crawled round the gauge.
“We are going lower than we ever have before,” exclaimed Ned to Herc,
as the two met and passed in the cabin on their way to their different
stations.
“Gosh!” laughed Herc; “I hope we come up again.”
The two men on the divan exchanged a significant look.
“You’ll come up again,” muttered the one called Guiseppi, “but the days
of the Lockyer are numbered, so make the most of her while she lasts.”