A BOLT FROM THE SKY
“Are we gaining on them, Jerry?” asked the professor eagerly, when the
chase had been on for several minutes.
“Oh, I can easily catch up to them, and pass them; but that’s just the
trouble, I don’t want to do that,” replied the tall lad. “If we get
beyond them we’d have to turn, and then we might lose sight of them. I
don’t know what to do if they won’t be friendly and let us come aboard.”
“They could easily fool us by just sinking,” spoke Ned. “I don’t see
why they don’t do that instead of trying to run away from us on the
surface. If that submarine captain knows anything about physics he must
know that an object can travel through the air quicker than it can in
water.”
“That’s right,” agreed Bob, “but he’s going along at a pretty good
clip.”
This was indeed so. The submarine was fairly flying over the surface of
the sea, a smother of foam at her stern showing where the propeller,
or whatever form of propulsion she used, was working, while at her
blunt nose was a long ripple as the water was pushed away on either bow.
“She is certainly making time,” conceded Jerry. “She must have powerful
engines.”
“I guess those aboard her were watching us all the time,” came from
Ned. “They just waited until they saw us getting too close, and then
they started off.”
“Yes, but what I can’t understand,” observed Jerry, “is why they don’t
dive, if they want to have us guessing. If she went down, even a few
feet, we couldn’t see her, and she might come up ten miles from here.
Then we would be out of it.”
“That’s right,” admitted Ned. “But perhaps they had to come up
for fresh air, and their tanks aren’t quite filled yet. Of course
oxygen can be manufactured aboard a submarine, but you can’t breathe
artificial air forever--you’ve got to have fresh air, especially if
they run gasoline engines, as they probably do, though the main ones
may be operated by electricity from a storage battery.”
“Why do they need so much air for gasoline engines?” asked Bob.
“Because gasoline won’t explode unless it’s mixed with air. The engine
simply must have it. So that’s why they’re probably staying on the
surface so long--to renew the air in the compression tanks to feed to
the motors.”
On and on rushed the submarine, but there was no more sign of life from
without than there had been at first. Nor could the boys understand how
they themselves had been observed.
“Well, something will happen, sooner or later,” said Jerry, as he
followed the course of the craft below them. “And if nothing else does
it will be darkness coming on, so we’ll lose sight of her.”
“What about the search-light?” asked Bob.
“That will help some, but this submarine is about the color of water,
anyhow, and it isn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world to
follow her after dark, even with our powerful light.”
“Oh, boys, I do hope we won’t lose her!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass.
“I may never have such a chance again to get in a submarine and look
for those hermit crabs. Don’t lose her if you can help it.”
“I won’t,” answered Jerry, “but it isn’t going to be easy. Besides, she
may, as I said, dive any minute!”
But at present the submarine seemed to have no such intention. She spun
along through the water, with the airship following her overhead, Jerry
keeping the speed of his craft at such a point as would not cause him
to over-run the boat.
“Say, we’re forgetting all about my uncle!” exclaimed Bob at length.
“What are we going to do about him?”
“I don’t see that we can do anything, Chunky, my boy!” exclaimed Jerry.
“There’s no doubt that he and his daughter have been picked up by some
steamer, and they may be in port before we get back home. In fact,
after we try out this submarine a bit I think the best thing we can do
is to put back to Cresville. I’m sure you’ll find your uncle and cousin
waiting there for you.”
“I’m sure I hope so,” returned Bob. “Well, as long as there’s nothing
for me to do, I think I’ll----”
“Get something to eat!” interrupted Ned. “Now, don’t get mad, Chunky,
I’d like some myself; how about it, Jerry?”
“Yes, go as far as you like in the galley, Bob. I’ll eat when grub is
ready, but just now I’m anxious to see how this chase is coming out.”
“Look!” cried Ned, suddenly. “I guess this ends it!”
As he spoke he pointed below. They all looked, and as they did so they
saw the submarine suddenly sink. Her blunt nose seemed to poke itself
beneath the waves, and in a few seconds all that showed where the
strange craft had been were some bubbles and foam on the surface of the
heaving sea.
“She’s gone!” cried the professor, in disappointed tones.
“I thought she’d do that,” murmured Jerry. “Well, that settles it as
far as we are concerned.”
“You’re not going to give up; are you?” Professor Snodgrass wanted to
know. “I simply must have a submarine to get those hermit crabs.”
“Well, it will all be a matter of luck, anyhow, finding this one
again,” spoke Ned. “I guess, Professor, it will be easier for us to
build you one, or buy a second-hand boat, if there are any such.”
“Anything, so as I can get to the bottom of the sea,” sighed the
scientist, still looking at the place where the mysterious submarine
had disappeared.
“Get busy with supper, Bob!” called Jerry, as he set the automatic
steering gear. “There’s nothing else to do now except eat.”
“And after that?” asked Ned.
“Oh, we’ll hang around here for a few days, and then, if we don’t see
any more of the _Hassen’s_ lifeboats, with some of the passengers or
crew, or if we don’t sight the submarine once more, I think we may as
well go back home,” replied Jerry. “Bob will want to see his uncle, and
the folks will get anxious about us if we stay out too long.”
“You seem pretty sure my uncle is safe ashore,” spoke the stout lad.
“I am,” declared Jerry. “You’ll soon be able to satisfy your curiosity
regarding that valuable object he brought over with him.”
“I have been wondering what it could be,” admitted Bob. “It’s a family
secret, I know that much, and it’s valuable. Well, I may as well get
supper, I suppose,” and he finished his remarks in such a naive way
that Ned and Jerry laughed.
As for Professor Snodgrass, now that his hope of getting on the
submarine was dashed, he went back to his beloved labor of catching any
stray bugs and insects that might be aboard the _Comet_, or which he
could net out of the air.
Supper was progressing satisfactorily, various appetizing odors that
came from the galley testifying to Bob’s activities. Jerry and Ned
looked to see if the machinery was running properly and then they kept
watch down below for a possible sight of the boat that had eluded them.
But it would soon be too dark to see, and Jerry decided that
the chances of picking up the craft in the rays of the powerful
search-light were too small to make up for the discomfort that would be
caused by standing watch all night.
“We’ll just let her go, and trust to luck for finding her again,” he
said. “Evidently she is cruising about in these waters, and the chances
are just as good for finding her again by accident as they would be if
we made a search. Luck goes in threes, anyhow, you know, fellows. We’ve
seen her twice when we least expected it, and I believe we’ll see her
again. Now I’m going to take it easy,” and he stretched out on a sofa
in the living cabin, through the glass floor of which glimpses could be
had of the ocean below them.
Preparations for the evening meal were well under way, and the _Comet_
was shooting along at good speed. The boys were thinking of many
things. Ned and Jerry were wondering if it would be possible for them
to get a submarine, while Bob, during such time as his attention was
taken from his cooking, was wondering if his uncle and cousin were
safely home, and what it was Mr. Sheldon had brought from Germany.
Suddenly from the bow of the ship, where Professor Snodgrass had gone
to look for specimens, there came a cry of pain. Ned and Jerry leaped
to their feet.
“What is it?” cried the tall youth, running forward.
“Have you caught something?” asked Ned eagerly.
“Ha! It would be more correct to say that something has caught me!”
returned the professor. “Hurry, boys, it’s a great big beetle, and he’s
pinching me. I daren’t knock him off because I want him for a specimen.
Oh, how he pinches!”
The two chums saw a comical sight--or, it would have been funny had it
not been for the look of pain on the face of the scientist.
He stood near the pilot house, an insect net under one arm, and a
cyanide bottle--for painlessly killing his specimens--under the other.
His left hand was tightly closed, while, dangling from the other was
a large, black and squirming bug, that seemed to be hanging on by
the simple process of making his pincers meet in the flesh of the
professor’s thumb.
“Oh, boys! Take him off! He is hurting me dreadfully!” cried the
scientist. “But be very careful, as he is a most rare and valuable
specimen.”
“Why don’t you take him off yourself--you know how to handle those
creatures,” suggested Ned, who did not much fancy plucking off the
vicious-looking black beetle.
“I--I can’t,” said the professor. “I have a new kind of upper-air fly
in this other hand, and if I open it he’ll get away. I had caught that,
and was reaching for the beetle, when he pinched me. I’m glad he’s
holding on, though, for it will give you a chance to get him.”
“Uh--I don’t know as I want to,” replied Ned, hanging back. “He might
transfer his affections to me.”
“Oh, please get him!” begged the scientist.
“I’ll show you how,” said Jerry. “Let me get that cyanide bottle from
under your arm, Professor. I’ll open it and hold it near the beetle.
The fumes will stupefy him, and he’ll drop in. Then I can cork him up.”
“Good!” cried Professor Snodgrass.
Jerry took the poison bottle, which contained in the bottom plaster of
Paris, mixed with the deadly cyanide of potassium. The fumes of this
are deadly to all insects in a very short time, killing them without
pain.
Holding the open bottle close under the beetle that was clinging to
the professor’s thumb, but taking care to keep his own face well away
from the vial, Jerry waited. In a few seconds the pincers of the beetle
relaxed. A few seconds more and it fell off into the wide-mouthed
bottle. Jerry quickly corked it up, and handed it to the professor.
“Ah, thank you, my boy, thank you!” exclaimed the scientist. “That is a
very rare specimen. I am glad to get it.”
“As glad as he was to get you,” said Jerry with a smile. “It certainly
is a large beetle.”
“And he certainly pinched,” murmured the professor, rubbing his thumb,
on which were a few drops of blood. “I think I had better use a little
peroxide to avoid infection.”
This excitement over, supper was served. As they all stood on the main
deck, with darkness settling down, Jerry, looking over to the west,
while the motorship moved slowly along, remarked:
“I think we’re in for a storm. I saw a flash of lightning just then.”
“Bur-r-r-r!” exclaimed Ned with a little shiver. “I don’t fancy a blow
in this exposed place.”
“Oh, I guess we can weather it,” spoke Jerry.
“Anyhow, I’m glad my uncle and cousin are not out in an open boat,”
added Bob.
Jerry’s prophecy of a storm was borne out. It came up rapidly and soon
there was quite a gale of wind, while the lightning flashes grew more
and more frequent. The accompanying thunder roared alarmingly.
It grew darker rapidly, and the storm seemed likely to last through the
night. Rain began to fall, but the boys did not mind that.
Everything was made snug aboard the craft, which scudded along through
the blackness of the night, illuminated by the flashes from the sky.
“I wonder where that submarine is now?” said Bob musingly.
“Probably far down beyond the influence of the waves,” answered Jerry.
It must have been about midnight, when none of those on the _Comet_ had
cared to turn in that, following several slight flashes, there came
one of vivid brilliancy. There was that same crackling sound at first,
as the boys had noticed once before, and then a terrific crash, that
seemed to split right through the airship.
In an instant the hum of the propeller motor ceased, and the benumbed
boys and Professor Snodgrass, unable to move for a second, so
paralyzing had been the shock, felt the craft sinking with them toward
the ocean.
“We’ve been struck!” cried Jerry. “We’re disabled!”
“Yes, and we’re going down!” yelled Ned.
Down and down went the crippled _Comet_, down through the storm that
was crashing all around her.