THROUGH THE STORM
“What do you know about that?” cried Ned, looking at his wondering
companions.
“That sure was a sudden dive,” agreed Jerry.
“They must have their machinery under pretty good control, and be able
to work it quickly,” came from Bob. “Why, that old gentleman wasn’t
down inside that hatch more than a quarter of a minute before the whole
thing was under water. The hatch must have closed automatically when he
went down it.”
“I guess that’s it,” said Jerry. “You can’t see so much as a bubble of
her now.”
The boys gazed at the surface of the sea. The heaving and rolling waves
were all that was visible.
“She must have gone down deep,” observed Ned. “You couldn’t even see
her periscopes.”
“She didn’t have any,” asserted Jerry. “If she had they would have
stuck up for a second or two, for usually they’re about twenty feet
above the deck. She doesn’t use periscopes, that’s evident.”
“What are periscopes?” asked Bob, who usually didn’t take such an
interest in mechanics as did his chums. When taunted with this Bob used
to say it kept him so busy cooking for Ned and Jerry that he had no
time to brush up on the latest inventions.
“Periscopes are the eyes of a submarine, when it is running in about
twenty feet of water,” explained Jerry. “I mean at that depth below the
surface. They are hollow tubes, and are just above the surface when the
boat is down about twenty feet. They run through the deck, and into the
pilot house. By looking into the lower end of them the observer can get
a view all around him at the surface.”
“I don’t see how,” spoke the stout lad.
“It is done by means of reflecting mirrors, lenses and prisms,” Ned put
in. “I looked through one once on a submarine that was being built.
It’s great. It beats a telescope all to pieces. A telescope, you know,
means an instrument by which you can see far off--‘tele,’ meaning afar,
and ‘scope’ to look--Latin or Greek words, I guess.”
“Say, is this a recitation?” asked Bob, with a smile.
“No, I’m just explaining,” answered Ned. “Periscope is made up in the
same way, from Latin or Greek words, and it literally means to ‘look
all around’.”
“Good!” exclaimed Jerry. “But even looking all around doesn’t seem to
show that submarine. It has completely disappeared. And I’d have given
a good deal to have a good look at her.”
“So would I,” spoke Ned. “I’d like to have gone aboard.”
“You would!” cried Bob. “Would you go under in her?”
“I would--yes, if I had the chance,” replied Ned. “But I’d prefer one
of our own United States boats to that foreign one. I didn’t like the
looks of that man with the white beard, and if what I read is true----”
“Say, what was that you started to say?” interrupted Jerry. “You were
on the point of remarking it when the craft went to the bottom.”
“Yes, I was,” admitted Ned. “I saw something in the papers not long
ago--it was a foreign dispatch, I think--to the effect that a German
had perfected a most wonderful and dangerous submarine. It had motors
operated by a new electrical chemical, that could be stored in a small
space, and the article intimated that the submarine could even cross
the ocean.”
“Of course that’s remarkable, in a way,” admitted Jerry, “but you
seemed to have something else on your mind. What was it? Loosen up,
Ned.”
“Oh, it’s no great secret. I didn’t just want those fellows on the
submarine to hear me; that’s all. But this article went on to say that
the inventor was a sort of crank, with a very vindictive disposition,
and that he imagined all other nations were the enemy of Germany. He
seemed to think that if the German war officials took a sufficient
number of his submarines the Kaiser would be Lord of the Sea, and could
wipe everything else out of existence. That’s one reason I wouldn’t
care to go aboard that boat.”
“That is, if it’s the same one,” suggested Bob.
“Oh, yes,” assented Ned. “Of course it’s only a notion of mine that
this craft may be the product of the brain of that eccentric German.
But he looked like a foreigner, and the way he seemed to get excited
when he saw us--acting as though he feared we were spying on him--made
me a bit suspicious.”
“But what does he want over here, in American waters?” asked Bob.
“That’s the point,” responded Ned. “What’s his game--if it is he? But
we don’t have to worry about it, I guess.”
“I don’t know about that,” spoke Bob, and his tones were serious. “If
he’s going to scoot about under water, practicing evolutions for
destroying our ships, it may mean trouble for us.”
“For us?” repeated Jerry, looking at his fat chum curiously. “What do
you mean?”
“Well, not exactly trouble for _you_ fellows,” explained Bob, “but
for my family. Of course it’s quite remote, but it might happen. My
Uncle Nelson Sheldon, and his daughter Grace, are on their way to this
country from Germany. They are coming in a small steamer, and my uncle
is bringing something very valuable with him. That is, valuable to our
family.”
“If it was something valuable for _you_ I suppose it would be a full
course dinner; eh, Chunky?” asked Ned with a chuckle.
“Oh, let up; can’t you?” begged the stout lad. “It isn’t anything to
eat, I’m sure of that, though I’m hungry enough now. I don’t know just
what it is, but I overheard father and mother talking about it. It’s
something that Uncle Nelson has been on the lookout for a good many
years, and at last he found it in Germany.”
“In Germany!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Yes, and that’s what made me speak as I did when I heard what Ned
remarked,” went on the fat youth. “If that’s a crazy German in a
submarine he may hit the boat my uncle is on.”
“Say, this is getting mysterious, all right,” spoke Ned. “Not that
I think there’s the slightest danger though, Bob. Your uncle has
a million chances to one in his favor. What steamer is he and his
daughter on?”
“The _Hassen_. It’s a German boat. He said he took that to avoid the
crowds. He’s due to land in a few days, I believe, and then I’ll know
what it is he’s bringing over that’s so valuable.”
“How about his daughter?” asked Ned. “Have we ever seen her, Chunky?”
“No, and I believe she’s considered a very pretty girl, too,” spoke the
stout youth.
“Then you’ve got to introduce us to her as soon as she lands, my boy!”
stipulated Jerry. “Pretty girls are too scarce to miss.”
“Oh, you’ll meet her,” said Bob. “I’ve told her about you fellows, and
she wants to know you.”
“Good for her!” cried Ned. “Well, we seem to have run into a
complication of matters just through sighting that submarine. That’s
out of sight, of course, but there’s still your uncle, his pretty
daughter, and the mysterious thing he’s bringing over, Bob. It gives us
something to look forward to, at any rate.”
“Yes, and we’re going to have something else to look forward to, and
that right soon,” spoke Jerry, suddenly.
“What is it?” inquired Bob, looking about. “Is that submarine in sight
again?”
“No, but we’re going to have a storm, if I’m any judge, and pretty
quickly, too. We’re quite a few miles out to sea, and we’d better run
to shore, I think.”
“Same here,” agreed Bob. “But say, what about grub? I can get it while
you and Ned manage the _Comet_.”
“Ha! Ha!” laughed Jerry. “I was waiting for you to say that, Chunky.
But there--don’t get riled! Of course you can get up a meal. But let
it be a simple one, for we may be in the midst of a blow any minute.
And we’ll need your help, now that part of our gear is out of order. So
don’t fuss too much, Chunky.”
“I won’t. But I’m awful hungry!”
“Just to show that there are no hard feelings I could eat a bit
myself,” added Ned. “Go to it, Bob, my boy.”
“Yes, and we’ll have to get busy ourselves, Ned,” spoke Jerry. “We’d
better make everything as snug as we can, and then go up. We may get
above the storm centre, but I doubt it. It looks as though it was going
to be pretty general.”
The weather had indeed changed suddenly. Gray banks of clouds, fringed
with ominous black, hung low on the horizon, while above the sky was a
coppery-yellowish cast that seemed to indicate the coming of a great
wind.
The sea, too, was heaving restlessly, as if anxious to join in the
revel of the elements, and there was a low moaning sound that told of
the howling gale to come.
But just at present it was calm enough--the threatening calm before the
storm--and Jerry was about to take advantage of it to start toward land.
The _Comet_ was still hovering over the spot where the submarine had
disappeared. The motorship was moving slowly, her propellers barely
revolving enough to give her steerage-way.
Jerry, with one last look at the surface of the sea, to discern, if
possible, whether the strange boat had come to the top again, set about
making all snug in preparation for the battle with the elements.
This was soon done, and while Bob was busy in the small galley, getting
ready a meal, Ned and Jerry started the boat. The big propellers beat
the air fiercely, and, as a dirigible balloon, the _Comet_ darted high
above the restless sea, and toward the shores of Boston Harbor, now
many miles from sight.
But the craft was not to reach a safe haven without a fight. Scarce
two miles had been covered before the storm broke, its fury increasing
every minute.
The _Comet_ heeled over until, had she been a water ship, she would
have been on her beam ends. Jerry and his chums had to grasp supports
to avoid falling.
“Throw in the automatic gyroscope balancer!” yelled the tall lad to
Ned. “We’ll turn turtle in a minute if you don’t!”
“In she goes!” cried Ned, springing for the motor room.
The gale howled about them. Below the waves were whipped into sudden
foam, and they tossed themselves on high as though reaching for the
_Comet_, which rushed on through the storm like a frightened bird.
“Some blow!” panted Bob, as he jumped aside in time to avoid the
contents of the scalding hot coffee pot on the galley stove. “Some
blow!”
“Yes, and it’s getting worse every minute!” Jerry cried.