THE SHADOW OF TREACHERY.
“What’s our next move going to be, Bob?” inquired Dick Ferral,
sprawling out comfortably on top of the long locker in the periscope
room.
Bob was just coming down the ladder after putting the riding lights in
position.
“Wish I knew, Dick,” he answered, switching on the incandescent in the
periscope room and dropping down on a low stool.
“I had a dream last night,” Dick resumed, giving a short laugh as he
spoke. “I was doing as sound a caulk as ever I did in my life when that
dream jumped in on me, and it was so blooming realistic that it brought
me up in my bed with a yell.”
“You must have been eating some of the hot stuff they have down here,
before you went to bed. The peppery grub they give you in Belize would
make a wooden Indian have the nightmare! But what was it, old chap?”
“It was about Fingal.”
“Fingal?”
“Yes, Captain Abner Fingal, who’s now, I hope and believe, doing time
in a United States federal prison.”
“Fingal,” observed Bob Steele, “is a tough old proposition to dream
about.”
“I won’t forget in a hurry how he crossed our course, down there on the
River Izaral, or how you came up under our gasoline launch with the
good old _Grampus_, tipped over the launch, and released the prisoners
and pulled them out of the water. Fingal and one of the rebel soldiers
got away from us by the skin of their teeth. Do you remember how, when
Fingal reached the bank, he got up on his knees and shook his fist
after us?”
“I’ll not forget that in a hurry,” said Bob. “If Fingal could have had
us in his hands then we’d have experienced a little more trouble than
we could have taken care of. But what’s the dream?”
“Well, I thought I was adrift in a big forest, with Fingal and a lot of
revolutionists hustling after me, full and by and forty knots, all with
machetes. General Pitou, the French leader of the revolutionists, was
with Fingal, and the whole pack of them had machetes in each hand and
another between their teeth. Finally they caught me, and I was hacked
in pieces----”
“Mighty pleasant, that!”
“They hung my head up in a tree,” proceeded Dick gruesomely, “and when
I saw the rest of me scattered over the ground underneath, my nerves
went to pieces and I fetched a yell that ought to have raised the roof.
I tell you I was in a sweat! We’re not done with Abner Fingal, mate.
He’ll foul our course before we’re many days older.”
“I don’t take any stock in dreams. They always come from a fellow’s
stomach--something he eats that disagrees with him. As for Fingal, you
can bet he’ll not come to Belize. He’d like to play even with us, all
right, but he has got sense enough not to run his head into a noose.”
Speake, Gaines and Clackett were stowing supplies in another part of
the boat. From time to time, as the boys talked, muffled thumps and
a sound of distant voices came to them. Cassidy, the mate, was still
ashore, taking care of the sick captain.
“What’s the latest news from Nemo, junior?” queried Dick. “The last
I heard was this morning. The captain wasn’t so well then, Doctor
Armstrong told me.”
“I saw Cassidy just before we started for the landing to come out to
the submarine,” said Bob. “He said the doctor was sure the captain
would pull through, but that he would need careful nursing, and not be
bothered with business of any kind.”
“Cassidy will give him the right kind of nursing! I never saw any one
so handy in that way, nor who tried to do more. Nemo, junior, ought to
forgive Cassidy for his treachery, down there on the Izaral.”
“The captain will do that, I’m sure. Cassidy is mighty sorry he allowed
his temper to run away with him. Fingal was responsible for what
Cassidy did.”
“Fingal and the grog,” commented Dick. “A few tots of rum will make
pirates and beach combers out of a lot of honest men. But why are you
getting all these supplies aboard? We’re loaded to the marks with
provisions, gasoline, oil, and everything else.”
“You know, don’t you,” returned Bob, “that Captain Nemo, junior, is
planning to sell the _Grampus_ to the United States government?”
“Yes, I know. The captain has had that bee in his bonnet for a long
time.”
“When we went down the coast and rescued the American consul from
the revolutionists, it was at the instigation of the United States
authorities. Of course, they were anxious to have the consul rescued,
but they were equally anxious to see what the _Grampus_ could do.”
“Well, we showed ’em!” said Dick proudly. “The little old craft, and
every one aboard, did themselves proud! What else does your government
want?”
“I don’t know as the government wants anything else, but I have thought
it best to keep the _Grampus_ in trim for any demand that should be
made on her. Any time, now, I’m expecting to see the U. S. cruiser
_Seminole_ stick her nose in the bay with orders for the _Grampus_
to get under way for the Potomac, bound for Washington. If the order
comes, it must find us in the pink of condition.”
“Suppose the order comes before the captain gets well?”
“Then the chances are he’ll ask us to carry out the order for him.
We’re in pretty good shape to do that, even without the assistance of
Cassidy. Our little crew of six can manage the craft, all right. Carl
has been taking lessons from Clackett and can look after the tank room
almost as well as Clackett himself; and you have learned to run the
motor in a way that has made a hit with Gaines.”
“We’ll do, I guess,” said Dick, with a long breath of satisfaction.
“With you as skipper, I wouldn’t be afraid to ride in the _Grampus_
from here to the North Pole. Speaking of Carl, though, what’s become of
the lubber? He cut his cables mighty sudden, seems to me.”
“He borrowed a guitar from a fellow in the hotel,” laughed Bob.
“A guitar? What does that mean?”
“I shouldn’t wonder if he had gone off to serenade somebody.”
Dick rolled over on his back and kicked the locker with his heels.
“Oh, my eye!” he sputtered. “It’s Ysabel Sixty! But Carl’s been gone
some time.” Suddenly Dick hoisted up on his elbow and peered at his
chum. “What do you say, Bob? Let’s go ashore to the place where Ysabel
is staying. We can look over the fence and jolly our Dutch messmate
just as he gets tuned up. How about a bit of a lark?”
“I’ll go you!” chuckled Bob; “but there’s no use starting for two or
three hours yet. Midnight is the witching hour.”
“Carl’s showing good taste, anyhow,” continued Dick. “Ysabel Sixty is
a fine girl. Now that her father, Jim Sixty, is put where he can’t
interfere with her, she’s going to be happier than she ever was before.
But Carl is off soundings. The girl hasn’t an eye for him, but for
_you_.”
“Oh, rot!” grunted Bob.
“It’s a fact, all the same. The girl has taken a fancy to you, Bob,
and you wouldn’t turn your head to look at the handsomest girl that
ever walked. Gasoline motors are your hobby. You’re a born motorist. An
explosive engine will be your best girl till the end of the chapter.”
Bob enjoyed this. Dick had a way, now and then, of giving a subject a
humorous turn that was highly diverting. Just as Bob was on the point
of giving some jesting reply, a voice came to them from without.
“Ahoy, de _Grampus!_ Tumble out an’ pass us a line!”
Both boys gained their feet on the instant.
“That’s Sambo with his sailboat!” exclaimed Dick. “He’s bringing
visitors. Nice time, this, to receive callers from Belize.”
“Perhaps it’s Carl coming back,” answered Bob, halfway up the iron
ladder toward the conning-tower hatch.
“If it is,” went on Dick, laying hold of the ladder, “then our fun for
to-night is knocked in the head.”
As soon as Bob got his head out of the hatch he saw a small sailboat
hove to alongside the submarine. There were several men in her, and two
were standing forward and aft to catch the ropes they were expecting
to be thrown. Because of the evening dusk it was impossible to
distinguish those in the boat, but it was plain that the craft was the
one which the crew of the _Grampus_ used for going ashore.
A dark shadow was thrown by the boat against the lighter background of
water--a hovering, ominous shadow of treachery--all the more ominous
because neither of the chums were suspecting underhand work there in
those peaceable waters off the British town of Belize.