THE LANDING PARTY.
During that night run down the coast the _Grampus_ was driven at full
speed. The electric projector was fitted against the lunettes of the
conning tower, and threw an eye of light far out over the dark water.
It was the hope of those aboard the submarine that they would be able
to overhaul and pass the schooner, _North Star_, which, presumably, was
rushing on ahead of them to interfere in some manner with the work cut
out for the _Grampus_.
The schooner had about three hours’ start of the submarine, but the
latter craft was keeping to the surface and traveling at such a speed
that it was thought she would surely overtake the other boat before the
mouth of the Izaral was reached.
However, in this Bob and Jordan were disappointed. They passed one
steamer, creeping up the coast, but not another craft did they see.
“The _North Star_ won’t be able to ascend the Izaral, anyhow,”
commented Jordan. “If Fingal communicates with the revolutionists, he
will have to send a small boat--and perhaps we can overhaul that boat
before it reaches the headquarters of the insurgent force.”
There was a certain amount of sleep for everybody aboard the _Grampus_,
that night, but Bob Steele. Dick and Carl slept the first half of the
night, and, after that, relieved Gaines and Clackett; Speake caught cat
naps off and on; Jordan stretched himself out on top of the locker in
the periscope room and took his forty winks with nothing to bother him;
and Tirzal, when the submarine was in a fairly clear stretch of her
course, was relieved by Bob and sent down to curl up on the floor and
snore to his heart’s content.
The tireless motor hummed the song familiar in Bob’s ears, and the
excitement of the work in prospect kept him keyed to highest pitch in
spite of his loss of rest.
In the gray of early morning, an hour after Bob had turned off the
electric projector, he sighted the mouth of a river with high, bluffy
banks on each side. On one of the banks, peeping out from a covert of
royal palms, was a small village. Directly across the stream from the
village, commanding both the river and the small harbor in front of the
town, was a rude fort.
Bob called Tirzal.
“She’s de ruvver, all right, you bet,” declared Tirzal, after taking a
look at the periscope. “Stop um boat, boss,” he added. “We no want de
people in de town to see um.”
Bob halted the submarine with the touch of a push button.
“We’d better submerge, Bob,” called Jordan. “That’s the way we’ve got
to get up the river, and it’s our proper course for dodging around the
town. Can you see anything of the schooner?”
“There are only a few small native boats in the harbor,” answered Bob.
“The schooner isn’t in sight.”
“Beats the deuce what’s become of the boat,” growled the consul. “If
she sent a launch up the river, the schooner ought to be somewhere
around, waiting for the launch to get back.”
“She may have pulled off down the coast just to keep clear of us. How’s
the water in the river?”
“Him planty deep to where we go, boss,” spoke up Tirzal. “Some time him
t’irty feet, mos’ly fifty feet. Eberyt’ing go fine if we keep in de
channel.”
“We’ll be on the safe side,” went on Bob, “and just swing along with
the water over our decks and the top of the conning tower. Ten-foot
submergence, Clackett,” he added through a speaking tube connecting
with the tank room.
“Aye, aye, sir,” came back the voice of Clackett.
The hiss of escaping air as the water came into the tanks was heard,
and Bob secured the hatch and came down the ladder.
The hissing ceased suddenly.
“We’re ten feet down, Bob,” reported Clackett through the tube.
“Take the wheel, Tirzal!” said Bob.
With head under the periscope hood and one hand on the wheel, Tirzal
rang for slow speed ahead. Bob and Jordan likewise gave their attention
to the periscope mirror and watched, with curious wonder, while the
tropical river unfolded beneath their eyes like a moving picture.
The Izaral was bank-full. As the _Grampus_ rounded the northern bluff
and swerved into the river channel, the high, steep banks, covered with
dense foliage, resembled a narrow lane with a blank wall at its farther
end. When the boat pushed into the stream, however, and fought the
current for three or four hundred yards, the seemingly blank wall gave
place to an abrupt turn.
The submarine took the turn and entered upon another stretch of the
lane.
This part of the river was as perfect a solitude as though removed
thousands of miles from human habitations. At a distance of perhaps
two miles from the coast the high banks dwindled to low rises, and on
each side was an unbroken forest; the banks were overflowed; the trees
seemed to grow out of the water, their branches spreading across so
as almost to shut out the light of the sun and were reflected in the
water as in a mirror.
Birds of gaudy plumage fluttered among the trees, and here and there,
in a bayou, alligators could be seen stretching their torpid bodies in
the black ooze.
Tirzal kept his eyes glued to the periscope. The channel was crooked
and dangerous, and a moment’s neglect might hurl the submarine into a
muddy bank, causing trouble and delay, if not actual peril.
For two or three miles farther, Tirzal kept the river channel.
Finally they came close to a spot where a deep, narrow stream entered
the Izaral on the right. Tirzal turned into this branch and, after
ascending it for some fifty yards, had the propeller slowed until it
just counteracted the current and held the _Grampus_ stationary.
“We got to de place, boss,” said Tirzal, lifting himself erect with
a deep breath of relief. “Now we come to de top an’ tie de boat to a
couple ob trees on de sho’.”
“Where are the revolutionists?” asked Bob.
“Dey a good way off, boss. We hab to take to de bank an’ go find um. I
know de way. Here’s where de boats come. You see dat pitpan close by de
bank? Him rebels’ boat.”
“Do you suppose,” queried Bob, turning to the consul, “that the
schooner sent word to the rebels by means of the pitpan?”
Jordan shook his head perplexedly.
“They wouldn’t do that. The pitpan is no more than a mahogany log,
hollowed out, and would be a poor sort of craft to row against the
current of the Izaral while it’s at the flood. I can’t understand
why we don’t see or hear something connected with the schooner.
Perhaps”--the consul’s face brightened--“Fingal and Cassidy are on the
wrong track, after all.”
“You go to de top, boss,” put in Tirzal, “an’ me swim asho’ wid rope;
den we warp um boat close to de bank.”
As a preparation for his swim, the half-breed began to divest himself
of his clothes.
Bob gave the order to empty the ballast tanks by compressed air, and
the _Grampus_ rose to the surface to the tune of water splashing from
the tanks.
“A party will have to land for the purpose of reconnoitering the
position of the rebels,” said Jordan. “I would suggest, Bob, that the
landing party consist of myself, Tirzal, of course, and some other
person who you think can be easily spared. A strong force will have
to remain with the _Grampus_, for our situation is encompassed with
dangers. Before we can plan our dash successfully, we shall have to
know something of the lay of the land and the disposition of the force
that is guarding Coleman.”
“You are right,” returned Bob. “I ought to remain with the
submarine----”
“And get a little sleep,” cut in the consul. “You’ve been on duty all
night and must rest so as to be ready for the sharp work when it comes.”
“I’ll have Speake go with you and Tirzal,” said Bob. “How long will you
be gone, Jordan?”
“Not more than two or three hours at the outside.”
By then the _Grampus_ was at the surface, and Bob climbed the ladder
and threw back the hatch. Gaining the dripping iron deck, he looked
and listened. The thick forest lay on every side, and the silence was
broken only by the flapping of wings, and the lazy splash of alligators
in a near-by bayou.
Tirzal, a rope around his waist, scrambled clear of the conning tower
and slipped from the deck into the water. He swam swiftly and silently
to the bank, pulled himself up, untied the end of the rope from about
his waist, and passed it around a tree.
Dick gained the deck, made the boat end of the rope fast to an iron
ring in the bow, and watched while Tirzal lay back on the cable with
all his strength and hauled the bow shoreward, a foot at a time.
“The bank is steep,” announced Dick, “and we can, run the nose of the
old craft right into solid ground.”
“That will make it easier for Jordan and Speake to land,” said Bob.
A few minutes of pulling on Tirzal’s part brought the point of the
submarine’s bow against the bank. Speake had come up on deck with one
of the rifles. A moment later Jordan followed him, with Carl trailing
along in his wake.
Jordan carried two rifles, one for himself and one for Tirzal, and also
Tirzal’s bundle of clothes.
“We’re taking all the rifles, Bob,” said Jordan, “but I have left my
cartridge belt and six-shooters in the periscope room. If you should be
attacked--which I hardly expect--your best defense will be to sink to
the bottom of the river. We’ll be back in three hours. If we’re not,
you’ll know something has gone wrong with us. But don’t fret about
that. Tirzal knows the country, and he’ll steer us clear of trouble.”
Speake and Jordan made their way to the point of the bow and sprang
ashore. As soon as Tirzal had slipped into his clothes and grasped the
rifle, the three comprising the landing party waved their hands to
those on the deck of the boat and vanished into the forest.
“Dose fellers vas going to haf all der fun,” grumbled Carl.
“I don’t think anybody is going to have a monopoly of ‘fun,’ as you
call it, Carl,” said Bob grimly. “You and Dick stay on deck and keep a
sharp watch for rebels. I’m going to the periscope room to take a nap.
In order to be on the safe side, Dick, you’d better let the _Grampus_
slide back toward the middle of the stream. Leave the cable on the tree
and pay it off from the bow of the boat.”
“All right, Bob.”
“Call me if anything happens,” said Bob, climbing into the conning
tower.
On reaching the periscope room, he signaled Gaines to stop the motor,
and told him and Clackett that the submarine was moored, and that they
could either sleep or go on deck, as they preferred. Then, thoroughly
tired out by his long night vigil, he stretched himself on the locker
and was soon sound asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but he was suddenly aroused by a
pounding of feet on the steel deck, startled cries, and a tremendous
splashing of water.
Thinking that Dick and Carl, who had comprised the anchor watch, had
been caught napping, and that the revolutionists were making an attack
on the boat, he leaped up, caught the first weapon he could lay hold
of, and darted for the iron ladder.
The weapon happened to be an old harpoon belonging to Speake, who had
once had a berth aboard a whaling ship.
When Bob lifted his head above the rim of the conning-tower hatch, a
strange scene met his eyes.