OFF FOR THE GULF.
It was easily seen that Gaines was nearly spent. His breath tore
through his lips in gasps, and when he reached the edge of the wharf,
he fell there, unable to roll over the edge and drop down on the deck
of the _Grampus_.
Out of the bushes at the top of the bank came the foremost of the
pursuing soldiers. Fortunately for Bob and Gaines, they were armed with
muzzle-loaders, and were frantically getting another charge into the
barrels.
Dropping the hatchet, Bob leaped to the wharf, caught Gaines, and
pulled him down on the deck; then, springing back, he picked up the
hatchet and severed the cable with a blow.
The bow of the submarine caught the current, swung farther out into the
stream, then whirled around and started away. This placed the conning
tower between the soldiers and Bob and Gaines, and several bullets hit
the tower and glanced singing into the air.
“You’re all right, Gaines,” said Bob, bending over the motorist. “You
got out of that fix----”
“By the skin of my teeth!” panted Gaines. “Oh, what a run! I never ran
so fast, and so far, and over so many stones and briers, before in my
life. I thought, a dozen times, they had me.”
“Hard luck that you should have run into the rebels when you were
looking for the soldiers of General Mendez.”
“Rebels?” cried Gaines. “Why, Bob, those fellows weren’t rebels. They
were the loyalist soldiers!”
“The troops of General Mendez?”
“Yes.”
“Then,” queried Bob angrily, “why were they chasing you, and shooting
at you?”
“I give it up. They must have taken me for one of the rebels--possibly
they thought I was General Pitou.”
“They couldn’t have thought that,” answered Bob. “The general is only
about half your size.”
“Clackett told you why I got out through the torpedo tube?”
“Yes. But how did you ever do it without being seen by Fingal and his
men?”
“I was shot along upstream, and straight into the bank. Fingal was
sitting on the deck at the time, and the sudden heave of the forward
end of the boat drew his attention, but he didn’t see me. As soon as
I could I got up the bank, but the compressed air had made me dizzy,
and I was obliged to rest before I could travel. After I got started
I found that I couldn’t go fast on account of my bare feet. I must
have been about a mile away before I saw any soldiers. There was a
straggling column of them, and they appeared to be the vanguard of
an advancing army. They were Mendez’s men, and I was pleased a lot,
because I was sure I could get them to go back with me and help
recapture the submarine.
“When I started toward them, though, they began to shoot and to run
toward me. I couldn’t stop and explain, for I wasn’t at all sure that
my explanation would be accepted. So all I could do was turn and see
how quick I could get back over the ground. That’s about all, Bob. But
how did you get clear? It was a surprise to see you on the boat. I was
expecting to be met by Fingal and his gang.”
“That’s too much to tell just now, Gaines. We’re all free, however,
and all together once more. We have been waiting for you.”
“What became of Fingal?”
“He’s a prisoner.”
“Good! Any more prisoners?”
“General Pitou----”
“General Pitou!”
“Yes; and one of Fingal’s men, and another who is more a friend of
Ysabel Sixty’s than he is of Fingal’s.”
“What about Ysabel Sixty?”
“She’s below, too.”
“Where did she come from?”
“She was one of those we took out of that yawl. We all thought she was
a boy until she told us who she was. We owe our escape to her.”
While sitting on the deck, Gaines had been slowly recovering
his strength. He was still muttering dazedly over Bob’s amazing
disclosures, when Speake showed himself at the hatch.
“You fellows better come below!” he called “Dick said you wanted the
boat submerged, Bob, an’ I guess that the quicker we do it the better.
There’s an outfit of black soldiers, dead ahead, waiting for us.”
Bob whirled around and allowed his eyes to follow the direction of
Speake’s pointing finger.
On a shelflike projection of the high bank, perhaps a quarter of a mile
ahead, was a group of rebels. They could be seen only indistinctly,
but it was apparent from their actions that they were waiting for the
_Grampus_ to come within good range.
“Climb for the hatch, Gaines!” ordered Bob. “We’ve got to get below
the surface. If we stay out here, while we’re passing those soldiers,
they’ll shoot us off the deck.”
Gaines got to his feet and walked painfully to the tower. After he had
climbed in, and vanished, Bob followed, closing the hatch behind him.
“Fill the ballast tanks, Clackett!” called Bob, through the tank-room
tube. “About ten feet will do, just so the periscope ball is awash.”
A moment more and the submarine began to settle downward.
“What are you going to do when we get near the fort, Bob?” asked Speake.
“I don’t believe the rebels have had time to plant any submarine
mines,” said Bob. “It takes some time to do that, and not enough time
has elapsed since Don Carlos reached the fort and reported that the
submarine had been captured. We’ll pass the fort under water, and
chance the mines. Better that than running on the surface and being
bombarded.”
Patter, patter came a ringing hail on the deck.
“Ah!” cried Gaines; “the soldiers are taking a whack at us!” He laughed
derisively. “I guess we can stand as much of that as they want to give
us. Their lead slides from the deck like water off a duck’s back.”
_Smash!_
“Great guns!” cried Bob. “What was that? Something broke.”
“The periscope ball!” gasped Speake. “They’ve put the periscope out of
commission. Empty the tanks!” he yelled into the tank-room tube.
The periscope table reflected nothing of the treacherous channel along
which the current and the propeller were carrying the _Grampus_ at a
terrific pace. It was necessary to come to the surface as quickly as
possible and use the conning-tower lunettes.
“Reverse your engine, Dick!” cried Bob to the motor room. “Full speed
astern!”
The engine was instantly reversed, but not until the submarine had
run into some obstruction, halting her with a jar that threw all her
passengers off their feet.
For a moment the silence was broken only by the hum of the fiercely
working cylinders, and the splash and bubble of the current as it met
the obstruction of the huge steel shell.
“Cut out the turbines!” yelled Bob; “empty the tanks by compressed air.
Full speed astern, Dick! Every ounce of power now!”
“What’s happened, do you think, Bob?” asked Ysabel, who had been
sitting on the locker in the periscope room, watching eagerly all that
had taken place.
“The river winds about a good deal, Ysabel,” Bob answered, “and we have
probably run into the bank. When the periscope went out of commission
it prevented us from keeping track of our course.” “Ah!” he added,
noticing that the propeller was dragging them against the current and
away from the bank, and that they were rising toward the surface.
“We’ll do, now.”
“But we can’t pass them cannon on the surface,” observed Speake.
“There’s nothing else for it, Speake,” answered Bob, “but a dash
straight for the gulf. We’ll have to keep to the surface, and if the
rebels are able to aim straight, they’re going to give us a lively
time.”
Bob relieved Speake in the conning tower. With his eyes against the
lunettes, he kept keen watch ahead as turn after turn of the river
unfolded before the racing boat.
At last they came close to a bend on the opposite side of which Bob
knew there was a straightway stretch of water leading to the gulf.
He signaled the motor room for full speed astern once more, then slowed
down until the backward pull of the propeller just balanced the rush
of the current, the _Grampus_ hanging stationary in midstream.
“Gaines,” called Bob, “are you well enough to take the engine? I want
Dick up here with me.”
“Sure,” answered Gaines.
“Then go down and send him up.”
Dick reached the periscope room in a few moments.
“Dick,” said Bob, “our periscope is out of commission and we’ve got to
pass the fort on the surface of the river. We could wait until night.
That would give the rebels less of a chance at us, but it would also
make our dash for the gulf more dangerous. The daylight has advantages
as well as disadvantages, and so has the night. What do you say?”
“I’m for running their bally old fort,” answered Dick. “We’ll go so
fast they can’t hit us.”
“Get the Stars and Stripes out of the locker, Dick,” said Bob. “We’ll
haul it up to the staff as we pass and see if it commands their
respect.”
Bob threw open the conning-tower hatch. The next moment, with his body
half exposed above the hatch, he rang for full speed ahead.
As the _Grampus_ started on the last leg of her dangerous voyage, Dick
forced his way up beside his chum.
“Give me room now, Bob,” said he, between his teeth. “I’m going out on
deck. If the flag commands any respect, it will be under my personal
supervision.”
“Run up the flag and then get back below,” answered Bob, squeezing to
one side of the tower so that Dick could pass.
Dick had kicked off his shoes and thrown aside his hat. Stripped for
action, he bent the flag to the halyards as the submarine swept onward
toward the threatening wall of the fort.