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[Illustration: The submarine battles with a gigantic bull cachalot.
Page 211.]
BOB STEELE
In Strange Waters
OR
Aboard a Strange Craft
BY
DONALD GRAYSON
AUTHOR OF
The Famous Motor-Power Stories
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER
604-8 SOUTH WASHINGTON SQUARE
Copyright, 1909
By STREET & SMITH
In Strange Waters
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. In the Depths. 5
II. Out of the Jaws of Death. 12
III. Sealed Orders. 18
IV. The American Consul. 25
V. Timely Forbearance. 32
VI. On the Jump. 37
VII. The Landing Party. 44
VIII. Carl in Trouble. 50
IX. A Friend in Need. 55
X. Strange Revelations. 62
XI. One Chance in Ten. 68
XII. By a Narrow Margin. 75
XIII. Waiting for Something. 81
XIV. A Great Play. 88
XV. On the Way. 94
XVI. A Dash of Tabasco. 101
XVII. A Serious Serenade. 106
XVIII. Don Ramon Ortega. 112
XIX. The Shadow of Treachery. 119
XX. The Hidden Snare. 125
XXI. A Mutiny. 132
XXII. A Lesson in “Who’s Who.” 139
XXIII. The Snare Tightens. 146
XXIV. The Don’s Proposal. 152
XXV. Unexpected Loyalty. 159
XXVI. A Favorable Opportunity. 165
XXVII. Exciting Work. 172
XXVIII. Capturing the General. 178
XXIX. Off for the Gulf. 184
XXX. Running the Battery. 190
XXXI. The “Seminole.” 195
XXXII. Matters Arranged. 202
XXXIII. A Submarine Battle. 207
XXXIV. In Quest of Documents. 214
XXXV. The Meeting in the Harbor. 220
XXXVI. Ah Sin’s Clew. 226
XXXVII. Off for the Amazon. 233
XXXVIII. Villainous Work. 240
XXXIX. Rubbing Elbows with Death. 246
XL. A Dive for Safety. 251
XLI. Putting Two and Two Together. 258
XLII. Under the Amazon. 264
XLIII. Hand to Hand. 270
XLIV. Boarded! 276
XLV. A Prisoner--and a Surprise. 283
XLVI. The Old Slouch Hat. 289
XLVII. At Para. 295
XLVIII. A Desperate Risk. 301
IN STRANGE WATERS.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE DEPTHS.
“Bob Steele!”
“What is it, captain?”
“We are in St. George’s Bay, ten miles from the port of Belize, British
Honduras. Two days ago, while we were well out in the gulf, I opened
the letter containing the first part of my sealed orders. Those orders,
as you know, sent us to Belize. Before we reach there and open the
envelope containing the rest of our orders, I think it necessary to
test out the _Grampus_ thoroughly. Unless I am greatly mistaken, the
instructions yet to be read may call for work that will demand the last
ounce of preparation we can give the submarine. I have stopped the
motor, and we are lying motionless on the surface of the sea. The lead
shows that there are two hundred and twenty-five feet of water under
us. The steel shell of the _Grampus_ is warranted to stand the pressure
of water at that depth. Do you follow me?”
“Certainly, captain.”
“Now, Bob, I have been watching you for a long time, and I believe that
you know more about the gasoline motor than I do, and fully as much
about maneuvering the submarine. We are going to dive to two hundred
and ten feet--the deepest submersion by far the _Grampus_ ever made. I
wish you to take entire charge. If you get into difficulties, you must
get out of them again, for I intend to stand by and not put in a word
unless tragedy stares us in the face and you call on me for advice.”
A thrill ran through Bob Steele. The submarine, with all her
complicated equipment, was for a time to be under his control. This
move of Captain Nemo, junior’s, perhaps, was a test for him no less
than for the _Grampus_.
For a brief space the young man bent his head thoughtfully.
“Do you hesitate, Bob?” asked Captain Nemo, junior.
“Not at all, sir,” was the calm answer. “I was just running over in
my mind the things necessary to be done in making such a deep dive.
The pressure at two hundred and ten feet will be terrific. At that
depth, the lid of our hatchway will be supporting a weight of more than
thirty-two tons.”
“Exactly,” answered the captain, pleased with the way Bob’s mind was
going over the work.
“If there happened to be anything wrong with the calculations of the
man who built the _Grampus_, captain, she would be smashed like an
eggshell.”
“We are going to prove his calculations.” The captain seated himself
on a low stool. “Gaines is at the motor, Clackett is at the submerging
tanks, Speake has charge of the storage batteries and compressed
air, and Cassidy is here in the periscope room with us to drive the
_Grampus_ in any direction you desire.”
“Dick Ferral is with Gaines,” added Bob, “and Carl Pretzel is with
Clackett.”
“Exactly. Every man is at his station, and some of the stations are
double-manned. Now, then, go ahead.”
Bob whirled to a speaking tube.
“We’re going to make a record dive, Clackett,” he called into the
tube, “and Captain Nemo, junior, has placed me in charge----”
“Bully for the captain!” came back the voice of Clackett, echoing
weirdly distinct in the periscope room.
“Our submergence will be two hundred and ten feet,” went on Bob. “You
and Carl, Clackett, will put the steel baulks in place. I’ll have Dick
and Gaines help you.”
Another order was called to the engine room, and presently there
were sounds, forward and aft, which indicated that the metal props,
to further strengthen the steel shell, were being dropped into their
supports.
“Cassidy,” said Bob, “see that the double doors of the hatch are
secured.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the mate, darting up the conning-tower ladder.
“Speake,” ordered Bob, through another tube, “see that the tension
indicators are in place.”
“Double doors of the hatch secured,” reported Cassidy a moment later.
“Pressure sponsons in place,” came rattling through the tube from
Clackett.
“Tension indicators in position,” announced Speake.
“Dive at the rate of twelve yards to the minute, Clackett,” ordered Bob.
A hiss of air, escaping from the ballast tanks as the water came in,
was heard. A tremor ran through the steel fabric, followed by a gentle
downward motion. Bob kept his eyes on the manometric needles. Twenty
yards, twenty-five, thirty, and forty were indicated. A pressure of ten
pounds to the square centimeter was recorded.
“Plates are beginning to bend, captain,” called Speake.
This was not particularly alarming, for the baulks would settle down to
their work.
“Close the bulkhead doors, Dick!” called Bob.
“Aye, aye!” returned Dick, and sounds indicated that the order was
immediately carried out.
“Sixty yards,” called Clackett; “sixty-five, seventy yards----”
“Hold her so!” cried Bob.
“What is the danger point in the matter of flexion, captain?” asked
Bob, turning to Nemo, junior, whose gray head was bowed forward on his
hand, while his gleaming eyes regarded the cool, self-possessed youth
with something like admiration.
“Ten millimeters,” was the answer.
“We still have a margin of three millimeters and are at the depth you
indicated.”
“Bravo! We are five yards from the bottom. Do a little cruising, Bob.
Let us see how the _Grampus_ behaves at this depth.”
The entire shell of the submarine was under an enormous pressure.
Bob gave the order to start the motor, and the popping of the engine
soon settled into a low hum of perfectly working cylinders. A forward
motion was felt by those in the submarine.
“Not many people have ever had the novel experience of navigating the
ocean seventy yards below the surface,” remarked the captain, with a
slow smile.
“It’s a wonderful thing!” exclaimed Bob. “The _Grampus_ seems equal to
any task you set for her, captain.”
The air of the periscope room was being exhausted by the breathing of
Bob, Nemo, junior, and Cassidy. Bob ordered the bulkhead doors opened,
in order that fresh oxygen might be admitted from the reservoirs.
Just before the doors were opened, Captain Nemo, junior’s, face had
suddenly paled, and he had swayed on his seat, throwing a hand to his
chest.
“You can’t stand this, captain!” exclaimed Bob, jumping to the
captain’s side. “Hadn’t we better ascend?”
The captain collected himself quickly and waved the youth away.
“Never mind me, my lad,” he answered. “I feel better, now that a little
fresh oxygen is coming in to us. Go on with your maneuvering.”
All was silent in the submarine, save for the croon of the engine,
running as sweetly as any Bob had ever heard. Aside from a faint
oppression in the chest and a low ringing in the ears, the _Grampus_
might have been cruising on the surface, so far as her passengers could
know.
Cassidy was at the wheel, steering, his passive eyes on the compass.
Bob turned away from the manometer with a remark on his lips, but
before the words could be spoken there was a shock, and the submarine
shivered and stopped dead.
“Hello!” whooped the voice of Carl. “Ve must haf run indo vone of der
moundains in der sea.”
“Full speed astern, Gaines,” cried Bob.
The blades of the propeller revolved fiercely. The steel hull shook and
tugged, but all to no purpose.
Captain Nemo, junior, sat quietly in his seat and never offered a
suggestion. His steady eyes were on Bob Steele.
Bob realized that they were in a terrible predicament. Suppose they
were hopelessly entangled in the ocean’s depths? Suppose there was no
escape for them, and the shell of the _Grampus_ was to be their tomb?
These reflections did not shake the lad’s nerve. His face whitened a
little, but a resolute light gleamed in his gray eyes.
“How are the bow plates, Speake?” he demanded through one of the tubes.
Speake was in the torpedo room.
“Right as a trivet!” answered Speake.
After five minutes of violent and useless churning of the screw, Bob
turned to Cassidy. The mate, grave-faced and anxious, was looking at
him and waiting for orders.
“Rig the electric projector, Cassidy,” said Bob calmly.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the mate.
When the little searchlight was in position, a gleam was thrown
through one of the forward lunettes out over the bow of the _Grampus_.
Bob, feeling keenly the weight of responsibility that rested on his
shoulders, mounted the iron ladder to the conning tower and looked
through one of the small windows.
To his intense astonishment he found the bottom of the sea pervaded
with a faintly luminous light, perhaps due to some phosphorescence
given off by the marine growth. Through this glow traveled the brighter
gleam of the searchlight.
The _Grampus_ was lying in a dense forest of nodding, moss-covered
stems. The vegetation of the ocean bed, with its lianes and creeping
growth, twisted all about the submarine, fluttering and waving in the
currents caused by the swiftly revolving propeller.
A gasp escaped Bob’s lips, however, when he fixed his attention
forward. For a full minute he stood on the ladder, taking in the weird
and dangerous predicament of the _Grampus_.
Then an exclamation fell from his lips, and he looked down to see
Captain Nemo, junior, slowly mounting to his side.
“Look!” whispered Bob hoarsely, nodding toward the lunettes.
The captain pressed his eyes against the thick glass and then dropped
back.
“A ship!” he exclaimed. “We have rammed an old Spanish galleon and are
caught in her rotting timbers!”
He looked upward, his startled eyes engaging Bob’s, and the two staring
at each other.