WAITING FOR SOMETHING.
Ysabel sank down on the top of the locker. Carl had turned on the
electric light in the periscope room and was staring at the girl in
unconcealed amazement.
“How vas dis?” he asked. “Miss Harris, is it you, sure enough?”
“Not Miss Harris,” answered the girl, with a flush, “but Miss Ysabel
Sixty.”
“Oh!” returned Carl, slightly abashed. “Miss Sixdy, dis vas a surbrise.
I hat no itee dot you vas in dis part of der vorld. How id vas----”
“Slow down your motor, Gaines!” shouted Bob, through one of the tubes.
“Make ready the bow anchor, there, Clackett--you don’t need to bother
with the tanks, because we’re going to anchor under the surface. Carl,
go below and make ready to let go the stern anchor when I give the
word. Sharp on it now!”
Carl jumped for the bulkhead door leading to the afterpart of the ship.
Every one on board, with the exception of Dick and Ysabel, were
astounded at these maneuvers of Bob Steele’s. However, Bob was in
charge, and all hands obeyed him without question.
With his eyes on the periscope, Bob stood and watched, now and then
calling a direction to Dick, at the wheel.
When the _Grampus_ shot from the Purgatoire into the Izaral, she went
broadside on against the current of the larger stream. The steel hull
heaved over a little, under the mass of flowing water, but the screw
and the rudder held her stiffly to her course.
“Now,” shouted Bob into the speaking tube, “let go your anchors!”
The swishing clank of chains, paying out under water, came to the ears
of those in the periscope room.
“Anchor’s down!” cried Clackett.
“Der same here!” yelled Carl, his voice ringing from aft.
“Stop the motor, Gaines!” ordered Bob.
The humming of the cylinders ceased, and the _Grampus_, anchored
broadside on across the Izaral, tugged at her mooring chains.
“Where are we, Bob?” came the voice of Gaines through the motor-room
tube. “I thought we were making a run to get away from the
revolutionists.”
“Hardly, Gaines,” answered Bob. “We don’t want to run away and leave
our friends in the hands of the rebels. Come into the periscope room,
all of you, and I’ll explain what we are doing and why we are doing it.”
“And while you’re explaining,” said Ysabel quietly but firmly, “I’ll
take care of your arm. Where is something I can use for a bandage? And
I’d like a sponge and a basin of water.”
“You’ll find a bandage in that locker you’re sitting on, Ysabel,” said
Bob.
“I’ll get the water,” said Dick.
By the time Bob had been divested of his coat, and had had his shirt
sleeve rolled up, Gaines, Clackett, and Carl were in the periscope
room, sitting on the low stools that served for chairs. Dick was back,
also, with the basin of water and the sponge, and Ysabel began dressing
the wounded arm.
“Great guns, Bob!” exclaimed Gaines. “Are you hurt?”
“A scratch, nothing more,” Bob answered. “The bullet simply left a mark
and then went on. I brought you up here, friends,” the young motorist
continued, “to tell you where we are. We’re anchored, broadside on the
current, in the middle of the Izaral River, our periscope ball some
three or four feet above the surface of the water. We are going to stay
here and wait for something to happen.”
“What’s to happen?” asked Clackett.
“Well, we’ve got news that a motor launch is coming down the Izaral
loaded with prisoners. If possible, we must intercept the launch. Dick
says we’ve a chance in ten of winning out, but we can’t neglect even so
slim a chance as that, as it happens to be our only one.”
Gaines, Clackett, and Carl were even more deeply puzzled than they had
been.
“Who are the prisoners?” inquired Gaines.
“Coleman, for one--the man we came to rescue. Then there are Jordan,
Speake, and, I hope, Tirzal.”
“Jordan and those with him were really captured?” demanded Clackett.
“Yes.”
“Ah, vat luck!” wailed Carl. “Ve come afder vone Amerigan consul und
lose anodder!”
Bob, carefully watching the periscope as he talked, repeated
the experiences that had overtaken him and Dick while they were
reconnoitering to find some trace of Jordan’s party.
The presence of Ysabel had aroused much curiosity in all of them, and
the explanation as to how she came to be on the boat straightened out
that part of the matter to the satisfaction of every one. Carl, in
particular, was highly pleased. He had dried himself out, after his
fall in the river, and was feeling easy in his mind, now that Bob and
Dick, at least, had been kept out of the hands of General Pitou.
“You did a big t’ing, Miss Sixdy,” said Carl, “ven you safed Bob und
Dick, und Bob did more ven he safed you, so dot vas efen. Now, if ve
don’d make some misdakes in our galgulations und are aple to resgue dot
boat loadt of brisoners, eferypody vill be so habby as I can’d dell. Of
gourse, I’m not in it, at all. I haf to shday behindt und dake care of
der supmarine.”
“Do you feel pretty sure, Bob,” queried Gaines, “that the motor launch
with the prisoners will come down the Izaral?”
“All we have to go on, Gaines, is Coleman’s note,” answered Bob. “I
may say that this move constitutes our only hope. If something doesn’t
happen, about as we expect and hope it will, then we’ll have to give up
all thought of doing anything for Coleman, or our friends.”
“We’ll hope something will happen, mate,” said Dick. “In case the
launch comes down the river, what are you intending to do?”
“I have my plans, Dick,” said Bob. “If every one carries out his orders
on the jump, I feel pretty sure the plan will carry. The main thing is
to keep a keen watch for the launch.”
“That’s easy enough during daylight, with the periscope ball
elevated as it is,” remarked Gaines, “but if the launch happens to
come downstream in the night--which, it strikes me, is altogether
likely--then the boat is apt to get past us.”
“Not if a good lookout is kept.”
“How will you keep a good lookout if you don’t go to the surface?”
“Well, what the eye can’t see, the ear will have to tell us. The hollow
ball and the hollow periscope mast will bring the chug of the motor
boat’s engine into the submarine. The craft ought to be heard a good
distance away. One man will have to be at the periscope all the time,
and all the rest of you must be at your stations, ready to carry out
orders at a second’s notice. You go down to the motor room, Gaines,
and Clackett, you go to the tank room. I will stay on the lookout. At
midnight, I will have Carl and Dick relieve both of you, but all hands
must be on the alert to turn out at a moment’s warning. Carl will get
some supper for us, and pass it around.”
Bob, as usual, had made no arrangement whereby he could secure any rest
for himself. But he felt that he could not rest, even if he had the
chance.
The rescue of Coleman meant much to Captain Nemo, junior, for on the
performance of the _Grampus_ might depend the sale of the submarine to
the United States government. While the failure to rescue Coleman, and
even the loss of Jordan, Speake, and the pilot had nothing to do with
the boat’s capabilities, yet failure, nevertheless, would spoil a sale
and fill the authorities in Washington with distrust.
The _Grampus_ was not a passenger boat, and she had now a lady
passenger to take care of. Bob finally solved the difficulty by having
Ysabel conducted to a small steel room abaft the periscope chamber.
This was set aside entirely for the girl’s use, and she arranged a
fairly comfortable bed on the floor.
After supper had been eaten, Ysabel retired to her cabin, and Carl and
Dick nodded drowsily on the locker in the periscope room. Bob, wide
awake as a hawk, kept his eyes on the periscope table and his ears
attuned for the first sound of the launch’s motor.
Night, however, closed in without bringing any sign of the boat. The
gloom, of course, put the periscope out of commission as it deepened,
but still Bob watched the table top, looking for possible lights and
listening for the clank of machinery.
Dick took Bob’s place for an hour or two, while Bob lay down and tried
to sleep. Although he had had only three hours’ sleep in two days, yet
the young motorist found it impossible to lose himself in slumber. He
was keyed up to too high a pitch, and was too worried.
At midnight he sent Dick and Carl to relieve Gaines and Clackett, and
was alone with his vigils in the periscope room.
From midnight on, the night seemed an eternity; and the gloomy hours
passed without anything happening. Bob had believed with Gaines that
night would be the time the captors would choose for coming down the
river with their captives. Inasmuch as they had not come, did this mean
that they were not coming at all? that General Pitou had changed his
plans?
Desperately Bob clung to his last shred of hope and watched the coming
day reflect itself in a gray haze over the top of the periscope table.
Slowly the trees along the river stood out with constantly increasing
distinctness, and the bosom of the rolling river took form beneath his
eyes. Upstream he could see nothing, but--what was that he heard?
Scarcely breathing, he gripped at the table top and listened intently.
A motor boat was coming downstream--his ears had heard it before the
periscope had been able to pick it up.
“At your stations, everybody!” he shouted. “Dick! up here in the
periscope room with you! The motor launch is coming!”