But a sharp voice rang out from the deck of the submarine.
“Stop where you are!”
“Well, what is it now, Mister Bluff?” shouted the bloated-faced man.
“You’ll find out how much of a bluff we are,” snapped the officer.
“Strong, pass the word below to load the torpedo tube.”
Ned, carrying out what he guessed was a cleverly thought-up plan to
rout the mutineers, sprang to the side of the conning-tower.
“Below there!” he hailed. Then he paused, as if listening for a reply.
“Stand by to load the torpedo tube. Hold your fire till you get the
word.”
“Aye, aye,” roared up Midshipman Stark, from his station at the wheel.
“Now then, sir,” cried Parry, hailing the old man, “you and the lady
buckle on life preservers and jump overboard. We’ll pick you up.”
“W-w-w-what are you going to do, sir?” quavered the apostle of peace.
“Blow that vessel and those mutineers sky high!” exclaimed the young
officer.
“Hurray!” cheered Ned, Herc and Tom, in ferocious voices.
The mutineers began to waver. The submarine folks could see the
bloated-faced man trying to rally them, but he failed. A dozen of them
rushed to the rail. Their faces shone ghastly white in the searchlight.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t fire, sir!” they begged.
“We’ll surrender!” shouted another, waving a white dish-rag.
“Then throw your arms overboard!”
A succession of splashes followed. The mutineers couldn’t seem to get
rid of them fast enough.
“Stand by to catch a line,” then roared the officer; “we’re coming
alongside.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” called back the cowed mutineers, as the submarine
crept up to the yacht’s side. An instant later she was fast, and her
officers and crew were on the yacht’s deck. Channing Lockyer at once
made aft, followed by most of the officers. The latter were naturally
anxious to ascertain the cause of the trouble. The inventor was drawn
by a different motive--one we can guess.
In the meantime, the mutineers were driven forward and imprisoned in
the forecastle. This done, Lieutenant Parry and the boys were making
for the stern of the vessel, when Ned’s keen eyes noticed the canvas
cover over one of the yacht’s boats shake and quiver as if something
alive were under it.
Darting forward, he pulled it back and beheld, snuggled down among the
thwarts of the boat, two human figures.
“Two more of them here, sir!” he cried.
The officer and Ned’s mates were at his side in an instant. In spite of
the crouching fellows’ kicks and protests, they soon had them hauled
out and on the decks. They tried to hide their faces, but they were
remorselessly switched round and made to face the light.
“Tom Gradbarr!” exclaimed Ned, recognizing his captive.
“Zeb Anderson, by the big snapping turtle of the South Pole!” yelled
Herc, as he made a similar discovery that his prisoner was not unknown
to him.
As neither of the rascals would utter a word, Lieutenant Parry decided
to go aft at once after they had been secured, and try to get an
explanation of how they came to be in the yacht’s crew. As the party
reached the after deck they found old Mr. Pangloss in the midst of a
long explanation of how the trouble had come about. They had sailed
from Narragansett the evening before. He meant to cruise down to
Southern waters.
“But the mutiny, sir? What started it?” broke in Captain McGill
impatiently, as the apostle of peace rambled along.
“Why, sir, I believe they must have been after my daughter’s jewelry.
She has $150,000 worth on board.”
“Permit me to say, sir, then, that I think that you have used very
little judgment in taking such valuables to sea with you.”
“Just what I told papa,” put in the girl, who had been standing by the
rail with Channing Lockyer, and seemed to have lost all interest in
mutinies, or anything else.
“B-b-b-but they were in a safe,” stuttered Mr. Pangloss, looking red
and abashed.
“As if that would act as an obstacle, sir,” said Captain McGill
impatiently; “but your captain, where was he during all this trouble?”
“Why, sir, he left me at Narragansett,” rejoined Mr. Pangloss. “He
objected to my refusing to allow him to put two unruly members of the
crew in irons. I decided to navigate the craft myself down to New York,
where I would ship another skipper.”
“Had you no other officers?”
“Oh, yes, a first mate named Gradbarr, and a second officer named
Anderson.”
Channing Lockyer started forward as he heard the names.
“Those rascals! Where are they? How did you get them on board?”
“Why, they applied for berths when we sailed from New York” rejoined
Mr. Pangloss, “and--”
“They are both in irons forward,” Lieutenant Parry finished for him.
“Thank goodness, they are captured,” breathed Mr. Lockyer; “while they
were at large I should never have drawn an easy breath. I always feared
they would, in some way, harm the submarine.”
“Then they would be attacking the property of the United States
Government, Lockyer,” laughed Captain McGill; “for I am going to
recommend that eighteen similar craft to that little hooker alongside
be built at once.”
The inventor’s face lit up. But the first person he turned to was Miss
Pangloss. She met his gaze delightedly. As for the young lady’s father,
he looked fairly staggered.
“I think you told me, Lockyer, that those submarines could be built for
$200,000 apiece?”
“Yes, sir,” nodded the radiant inventor.
“That’s $2,160,000!” gasped the old man.
“Your figures are correct, sir,” said Captain McGill dryly; “and the
nation owning such boats gets them cheap, in my opinion.”
“Lockyer!” cried the old man, approaching the inventor with
outstretched hand, “I have been unjust to you in the past. Forgive and
forget. For my part, after what I have seen, I am willing to admit that
submarines, besides being needful in war, have occasions of usefulness
in peace.”
“Their lawful occasions, eh?” quoted Lieutenant Parry, from the sea
service.
“The Lockyer has proved that twice,” put in Mr. Stark.
“Parry, what’s the nearest harbor? It’s important that we should land
those rascals and the Italians, and give them into the hands of the
police,” said Captain McGill presently.
“We can make for Stonington, sir,” was the reply. “There’s Fisher
Island light off our port-bow now.”
“Then put us in there. It will be daylight in a short time,” ordered
Captain McGill. “Strong, you, Taylor and Marlin will remain on board as
a prize crew. Mr. Lockyer,” this with a smile at the inventor and the
girl, “you will also remain to take care of your own particular prize.
Gentlemen, let us re-embark on board the latest addition to the United
States Navy--the submarine wonder, the Lockyer.”
* * * * *
Well, as Tom Marlin would say, “the yarn is spun.” It may be set down
here, however, that all concerned in the mutiny got their just deserts.
Although an effort was made to ascertain from Gradbarr and Anderson
something relating to the whereabouts of Ferriss and his rascally
accomplice, Camberly, nothing could be got from them, except a vague
statement that both men had gone to the Far East. The Atlas Works were
seized by creditors, and the two submarines found there sold for junk.
As for Gradbarr and Anderson, they admitted their object in shipping on
board Mr. Pangloss’s yacht was to evade the police who, they felt sure,
must be hot on their trail after the abduction of Mr. Lockyer and Ned.
Incidentally, they are probably the first criminals ever brought to
justice through the instrumentality of a submarine boat.
In spick and span uniforms, our friends attended the wedding of
Channing Lockyer and Miss Pangloss, and the speech the former apostle
of peace made at the wedding breakfast astonished and shocked his
old admirers; for it dealt with the necessity of being in constant
preparation for trouble, so that if we did have to fight, we could
fight to win. His resignation was immediately demanded by half-a-dozen
peace societies, but he stuck to his guns, and the United States Navy
now has no stauncher friend than Peregrine Pangloss.
On the festive day, too, it might have been noticed that Ned and Herc
both wore small, glittering objects affixed to their uniforms during
the ceremony.
These were tiny gold and diamond submarine boats. On the back of each
was an inscription:
“From Channing Lockyer to the Dreadnought Boys, in partial recognition
of the valued services they rendered him during a trying time.”
Though each had protested, the inventor also insisted on starting
a good, fat bank-account for each boy, not forgetting Tom Marlin.
So that, with what they already have in the Navy Savings Bank, Ned
and Herc feel, to express it in their own words, “like bloated
millionaires.”
But both lads would gladly give up all their bright prospects to-morrow
if their retention of them depended on their leaving the service. They
would rather be serving Uncle Sam on the seas than be millionaires
twenty times over. In this Sim Phillips agrees with them. He is now
superintendent of the busy Lockyer Submarine Boat Works, but he
considers himself quite a part of the Navy, inasmuch as all the boats
the Works turn out are for Uncle Sam.
But modern as the Lockyer is, she doubtless will be superseded by
other and newer craft. Indeed, Mr. Lockyer is now working on various
improvements, which are to be embodied in his latest invention. “The
old order changes” more frequently in things naval and military than in
almost any other branch of life. While some of the brightest minds in
the country were working on submarine problems, others had been busy
trying to solve the problems of the air.
How the United States Navy experimented with aerial craft and what part
our Dreadnought Boys played in the interesting, exciting campaign of
innovation, our readers may learn by perusing the next volume of this
series--a description of thrilling aerial adventures and perils for the
honor of Uncle Sam--THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE.
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Captain Wilbur Lawton is a pseudonym for John Henry Goldfrap
(1879-1917), who wrote using several pseudonyms.
Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
mentioned.
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.