EXCITING WORK.
Fingal was a big fellow, and Bob remembered with a shudder the crushing
embrace of his huge arms at the time the crew of the submarine were
routed. But Bob, with so many to help him, was not worrying over the
outcome. What caused him the most concern was the thought that, in
spite of their precautions, there would be noise enough to alarm the
two men who were playing cards.
Fingal came down the ladder slowly. Fortunately for those below he kept
his gaze upward as he descended. When he reached the foot of the ladder
his face was toward the after bulkhead of the periscope room, and those
who were waiting were behind.
At a signal from Bob the attack was made. Bob himself sprang at
Fingal’s throat and caught his bull-like neck in a strangling grip.
Like a huge animal, Fingal pushed himself around. Speake had one of his
arms and Dick the other. Clackett, bending down caught his feet and
jerked them off the floor.
Fighting furiously, Fingal was thus thrown bodily into the hands and
arms of Bob, Dick, and Speake. They were not expecting to receive the
heavy weight, and the huge body crashed to the floor. Bob’s grip about
Fingal’s throat was wrenched loose, and a half-strangled bellow of fury
went up from the desperate scoundrel.
Feet stamped the deck. There was no need of a demand from those above
as to what was going on, for both the men knew that there was trouble.
Fingal would not have bellowed in that fashion if there had not been.
“Never mind the noise, now,” panted Bob. “We’re in for it, and we must
be quick.”
One of the other men already had his feet on the ladder. Leaving Dick,
Speake, and Clackett to handle Fingal, Bob jumped up the ladder, caught
the descending feet, and flung his whole weight on them.
As a result, the man’s hands were torn from the iron rungs, and he and
Bob tumbled in a heap on the floor of the periscope room.
Bob came off better than his antagonist, for the latter struck his head
against the steering wheel, doubled himself up in a ball, then flung
out his limbs convulsively and lay silent and still.
“Look after both of them, fellows!” cried Bob. “I’m going after the
other one.”
The second of the two men who had been on the deck was showing more
wariness than his companion had done. The abrupt disappearance of his
comrade from the top of the ladder had filled him with doubts, and
when he saw Bob rushing upward, he must have gained the idea that all
the others were captured. Yet, be that as it may, he whirled from the
conning tower in a panic and leaped off the boat.
When Bob lifted his head clear of the hatch, a sharp report echoed out,
and a bullet struck the sloping side of the conning tower and glanced
off into the river.
The ruffian was standing on the planks that had formed the old landing.
Undeterred by the shot, Bob threw himself out of the tower, gained the
rickety wharf at a jump, and raced after the man.
The latter retreated to the bank, turned there, and assayed another
shot. A metallic click echoed out, but no report. Again and again the
trigger fell uselessly.
With an oath, the fellow hurled the weapon at Bob, faced about, and
dashed into the timber.
Bob gave pursuit. Had it not been that Gaines was missing from the
boat’s complement, Bob would not have chased the fugitive; but Gaines’
absence made it necessary for the submarine to remain at the landing
until he should return, and if this man got away he would probably
spread the news of what had happened and cause a detachment of the
revolutionists to charge the boat.
Bob, it will be remembered, was in his stocking feet. The ground over
which he was running was covered with sharp stones, and before he had
gone a hundred yards he realized that he would have to give up the
pursuit.
Turning back, he regained the landing, leaped to the deck of the
submarine, and bent over the hatch.
“How are you, down there?” he called.
“Finer’n silk!” came the jubilant voice of Speake. “We’ve got lashings
on both men. Where’s the other chap?”
“He jumped ashore and got away. Come up here, Dick, you and Clackett.
One of you bring a hatchet. Let Ysabel watch the prisoners, and
you, Speake, go below and see if everything is in shape for a quick
departure.”
“Goin’ to leave without Gaines, Bob?” asked Clackett.
“Not unless we have to. We’re going to hang out here until the last
moment.”
Dick and Clackett presently showed themselves on deck. Bob had already
discovered that the _Grampus_ was moored to two trees with a couple of
cables at the bow and stern. The boat was pointed upstream.
“Cast off the stern cable, Clackett,” ordered Bob, “and throw it
aboard. One rope is enough to hold us. Go out on the bow, Dick,” he
added, “and sit there with the hatchet. If you get an order to cut the
cable, don’t lose any time in carrying it out.”
“Aye, aye, mate!” replied Dick.
Clackett went ashore and unfastened the rear cable from the tree. Bob
drew it in, coiled it, and dropped it down the hatch.
“What am I to do now, Bob?” shouted Clackett.
“Go up the bank and a little way into the woods,” answered Bob. “Hide
yourself and watch for soldiers. If you hear or see any, rush this way
and give the alarm to Dick. He’ll cut the cable, and then the two of
you dodge below as quick as the nation will let you, the last one down
closing the hatch after him. Understand?”
“That’s plain enough,” said Clackett, climbing the bank and vanishing
in the timber.
Bob went down into the periscope room and found Ysabel sitting on one
of the stools and keeping watch of the prisoners.
Fingal, his great arms twisting fiercely against the ropes and his eyes
glaring, lay on the floor. Near him was the other prisoner. The latter
had recovered from the blow that had stunned him, and, to judge from
his humble appearance, his warlike disposition was entirely gone.
“What shall we do with Pedro, Bob?” asked Ysabel anxiously.
“Does he want to go back with us to Belize? Ask him.”
“If he did that, they would probably arrest him for what he has done,”
said the girl.
She put the question, however, and Pedro shook his, head.
“Ask him if he wants us to put him ashore here.”
Pedro nodded as soon as Ysabel had translated the words into Spanish.
“Tell him we’ll do that before we leave,” said Bob, “but that we can’t
trust him ashore until we are ready to go.”
Pedro tried to talk in response to this, and Bob removed the gag for a
moment. Turning his face toward Ysabel, Pedro spoke rapidly for a few
moments. Ysabel’s face became very serious as she listened.
“What is it?” inquired Bob.
“He says that the _Grampus_ will never be able to leave the river,”
answered the girl; “that the fort is in the hands of the rebels, and
that they are planting mines in the river, so close to the bottom that
the submarine will strike them if she submerges. If she floats on the
surface, then the guns of the fort will sink her.”
There was terror in the girl’s face as she repeated Pedro’s words.
Here was an unlooked-for difficulty, and one that gave Bob the utmost
concern.
“Just ask him, Ysabel,” said he, “why the rebels planted mines in the
river when they knew the submarine was in the hands of their friends?
Pedro’s story sounds improbable, to me. If it comes to that, we passed
the mouth of the river under water, and no one in the fort or the town
saw us.”
Ysabel talked for a few moments more with Pedro.
“He says,” the girl reported finally, “that Don Carlos saw the flag
of the rebels flying from the fort by means of the periscope when we
ascended the stream; but the don knew there were some submarine mines
in Port Livingstone, and that he was going to have the soldiers plant
them. He was afraid Fingal might try to run away with the _Grampus_,
and intended to pen her in the river.”
“Then even these revolutionists can’t trust each other!” exclaimed Bob.
“With such a lack of confidence as that, if it extends to the rank and
file, the insurrection will prove a farce. Just----”
At that moment some one landed heavily on the deck of the submarine.
Bob straightened erect and stepped to the foot of the ladder. Looking
up, he saw Clackett gazing down.
“There are two men comin’, Bob!” reported Clackett. “One of em’s Don
Carlos, an’ the other wears a red coat with shoulder straps and has a
sword.”
“Some officer, I suppose,” said Bob. “Come down here, quick, Clackett,
and tell Dick to follow you, but not to cut the cable. Speake!” he
called through one of the tubes.
“What is it?” came back the voice of Speake.
“Up here with you! More work.”
Speake, tumbling up from below, and Dick and Clackett, dropping down
from above, reached the periscope room at about the same time. Bob had
been replacing the gag between Pedro’s lips.
“Drag the prisoners into the room where they were keeping us,” said
Bob. “There’s going to be more lively work here, and we’ve got to clear
decks for action.”
While Speake, Clackett, and Dick fell to with a will, half dragging and
half carrying the prisoners into the steel chamber off the periscope
room, Bob kept close to the periscope and watched the bank above the
landing.
Then, just as his comrades finished their work and returned to his
side, he gave vent to an exclamation and whirled away from the
periscope table.
“Don Carlos is coming,” he whispered, “and General Pitou is with him!
Now, at one stroke, we can lay the rebel general by the heels and nip
this revolution in the bud. Steady, now! Not a whisper, mind. There are
two of them, and we must capture both.”