PRISONERS OF THE SEA.
"We are lost!"
"That shell will blow us to atoms!"
Such were some of the cries which arose from those on the new Holland
when they saw the shell thrown by the French cruiser whirling swiftly
toward them.
In an instant all was wild excitement and the face of Andy Greggs grew
pale as death.
But one person on the submarine craft was cool, and that was Oscar
Pelham.
As he saw the shell approaching he stepped to the rear end of the tiny
enclosed deck of which the Holland boasted.
Here was a hidden keyboard, connected by electricity with the moving
power of the strange craft.
He touched one of the tiny steel buttons.
"Hold fast!" he cried, and as everybody clutched the railing or threw
himself flat, the Holland fairly jerked forward, rising two feet higher
than she had been lying, by the action of the sudden spurt. Then she
continued to go ahead.
_Zip! Bang!_
Down came the shell from the French cruiser in the exact spot where the
Holland had been lying. It sent the water flying in all directions,
while the noise of the explosion was deafening.
The submarine torpedo-boat destroyer had gotten away a distance of a
hundred yards, and some of the fragments of the shell rained down upon
the deck like hail.
The forward rush had made the Holland ship considerable water, and for
the instant it looked as if the submarine craft would be swamped.
The French cruiser was coming closer, and now another shell was hurled
forth, but this flew wide of the mark.
"We must go down," said Captain Oscar, and at once those on deck
tumbled into the interior of the submarine boat. Then the steel hatch
was closed, the railing sank out of sight, and the new Holland sunk
beneath the surface of the ocean.
By examination it was found that the boat contained six inches of
water, and this was immediately forced out by the electric pump. Then
Oscar entered the engine room and held a consultation with George Dross.
"Are we safe in descending twenty-five feet in these waters?" he asked.
A chart was examined and it was found that they might descend forty
feet without danger of running aground, providing they kept in the old
channel.
"Then put on all speed, descend thirty feet, and bring up behind that
French cruiser," was the young captain's order.
"You will sink her?" questioned Andy.
"If we can."
"But the commodore's orders----"
"Orders from the Secretary of the Navy are to sink any foreign vessel
that opens fire on us. The government has half a million dollars locked
up in this vessel, and Uncle Sam doesn't intend to lose her."
No more was said, and soon the new Holland was gliding through the
ocean with the rapidity and silence of some monstrous sea serpent.
While she was thus moving Oscar had the crew arrange another torpedo,
similar to that which had blown up the Tien-Tsin.
He remained at the side window nearest to the front of the submarine
boat, watching for anything unusual which might occur.
As they moved on in a large semi-circle a sight met his gaze which was
truly horrible.
They passed through the wreckage of the big Chinese cruiser, and on
every side he saw the torn and mutilated bodies of the Chinese sailors
and soldiers, some dead and some drowning, sinking slowly to the
bottom of the ocean.
One poor wretch made a mad clutch at the glass window as it passed him
and glared fiercely into Oscar's face.
The sight made Oscar shudder and brought to him a sense of how horrible
this fearful war was to be.
But now was no time to think of these things.
The French cruiser had noted the disappearance of the submarine boat
and her commander was doing his best to get out of danger.
He had crowded on all steam and felt that it would be impossible for
any submarine boat to catch the Republique, as his craft was named.
He did not know that the new Holland was one of the fastest ships
afloat--much faster, in fact, than any submarine craft built up to that
time.
Although it was daylight, he kept a powerful searchlight at work,
trying in vain to locate the Holland XI. under that rolling cover of
greenish-blue waves.
But here he again failed, for the Holland kept too far below the
surface to be thus located.
At last Captain Oscar saw that they were less than fifty yards behind
the Republique.
Both vessels were going at their topmost speed, and thus the pursuit
was a highly dangerous one.
The new Holland was up on a level with the Frenchman's keel, and should
the speed of the cruiser slacken suddenly the submarine craft would
surely crash into her with disastrous effect.
"Get ready to throw out that torpedo," ordered the young captain of the
submarine destroyer, and his crew obeyed without delay.
In a few seconds more they were directly under the Frenchman's keel,
and then the torpedo was brought out, ready to be adjusted.
At that moment something unlooked for occurred, something which nearly
brought the new Holland to an end then and there.
In her anxiety to get away from the torpedo destroyer those on the
Republique had run close to a stretch of land on the Cuban coast which
hid from view a bay half a mile in diameter.
In this bay were located three American men-of-war, of the old style,
but fitted up with modern dynamite guns.
As the Republique came in sight of the Yankee warships, all three
opened fire on her.
The aim of the American gunners was perfect, and five ten-inch shells
crashed through the side of the French cruiser.
Three of the shots went below the water-mark, while a fourth struck
into the magazine.
There was a deafening explosion, which tore away the middle deck of
the cruiser, and then the huge mass of iron and steel began to sink
like one vast lump of lead.
She came down directly on top of the new Holland, at the very moment
that the time fuse had been set in motion by which the torpedo was to
be blown up.
"By ginger! Something's wrong!" came from old George Dross. "She's
a-comin' down on top o' us!"
"Back her!" ordered Captain Oscar. "Back, quick!"
But it was too late to back. Down came that monstrous weight, settling
directly on top of the new Holland and quickly burying the submarine
craft in several feet of sand!
Luckily the French cruiser rested, fore and aft, upon two slight hills,
forming something of a hollow in the middle, otherwise the Holland XI.
must have been totally crushed.
As the submarine craft was pinned fast, Andy Greggs clutched Oscar by
the arm.
"We are lost, Oscar!" he gasped. "That fuse--it is ready to go off!"
The young captain nodded, for words failed him. The fuse was set for
three minutes. Two minutes had already passed. A minute more--and then?
One of the crew--ordinarily a brave man--fell upon his knees, the
tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Nothing can save us!" he moaned. "That torpedo will crush us into a
million pieces!"
Thirty seconds passed--forty-five. Everybody on board held his breath.
Captain Oscar felt as if his head was on the block and the axe of the
executioner ready to fall.
And then the full minute passed--swiftly, silently--and then another
minute. One and another straightened up and each looked at his comrades
as if doubting that he was not dreaming.
The torpedo had failed to explode!
"The shock of the wreck must have torn the fuse from its place," said
Captain Oscar.
"Pray heaven such is a fact!" murmured his lieutenant.
The wrecked Republique was still settling, and through one of the
windows which was not buried in the sand they saw numerous dark objects
floating about, including the bodies of some French sailors.
But now was no time to look upon such sights.
"We must get out of this," said the young captain. "The longer we
remain here the deeper we will be buried in the sand and the harder it
will be for us to get away."
"Right you are," answered his lieutenant. "But how shall we move?"
That was a difficult question to answer just then, for nothing could
be seen excepting out of one window on the left side and out of one
window in the rear.
"I think we had better try to back first," said Captain Oscar. "Dross,
put on all power."
"Aye! aye!" responded the old engineer, and soon the dynamos on board
were working as never before. But though the screws revolved with
lightning-like rapidity, the new Holland scarcely budged. The screws
whirled the sand in every direction, sending it against the rear window
like, a sheet of hail.
"We don't move," said Andy Greggs.
"Try to go ahead," suggested Captain Oscar, "Have we reached the limit
of our power?"
"We have," answered the old engineer.
Again the screws were set in motion. The submarine boat strained and
quivered, as if to pull in twain every bolt that held her together. But
move from her resting place she did not.
They were prisoners at the bottom of the ocean.