RUNNING THE BATTERY.
Signs of activity showed around the fort as the _Grampus_ rushed down
toward it. Soldiers with rifles appeared on the walls, and the muzzles
of the cannon were being slowly depressed in order to get the boat
under a drop fire.
“They’re going to let us have it!” called Ferral, still working with
the flag.
“Get the bunting up and return below!” ordered Bob.
“I suppose you think that you’re the only one who’s privileged to show
himself while the rebels are shaking out their loads at us.”
“I don’t want you to expose yourself to needless danger, Dick,” said
Bob.
“Danger!” Dick gave vent to a scornful laugh. “I don’t think the
greasers can shoot. Let’s give ’em a chance at us and see if----”
Dick was interrupted by a hoarse boom!
Four cannon commanded the river side of the fort, and four the bay
side. It was one of the guns on the river side that had spoken. A round
shot plunged into the water on the port side of the boat, sending a jet
of spray high into the air.
“I told you so!” yelled Dick, and shook his fist at the fort.
As he looked upward he saw three soldiers on the wall getting ready to
shoot.
Two more cannon were fired, almost at the same time. The solid shot
plunged into the water altogether too close to the boat for comfort.
“Up with the colors, Dick!” shouted Bob Steele; “let’s see if they dare
fire on that flag!”
Dick hauled up the flag. As the gay little banner caught the breeze and
opened out, a crack of rifles was heard from the fort.
The flag fluttered sharply.
“What do you think of that!” roared Dick, once more shaking his fist
upward in the direction of the fort; “they’ve put a hole through the
flag. Oh, strike me lucky! If it was the British flag they treated like
that, an army would march through the country before the scoundrels
were a month older.”
“They’re an irresponsible lot, anyhow,” said Bob. “Besides, we’ve got
General Pitou below, and General Mendez will have an easy time of it
when he gets here with his army. The uprising is as good as squelched.
If anything----”
A perfect roar of guns echoed from the hill. With a crash the periscope
mast went by the board, and the round shot caused the water to bubble
and boil all around the submarine.
“They’ve got a grouch against that periscope, you see!” laughed Dick.
“We’ll have to have a new mast and ball as soon as we get back to
Belize,” said Bob, as he guided the _Grampus_ in a wide sweep around
the headland to the left of the river mouth.
“A moment more,” said Dick, “and we’ll have the town between us and
the fort. They’re slow at loading those old carronades. Those fellows’
hands must be all thumbs. If----”
Dick did not finish his sarcastic remarks. Just then there was a
tremendous explosion just behind the submarine. A column of water arose
high in the air, and, descending in a huge wave, carried the stern of
the boat under and threw the bow high in the air. The water all around
was a veritable caldron.
Frantic cries came from within the hull. Bob, owing to the almost
vertical inclination of the steel hull, was hurled out of the conning
tower and came into violent collision with Dick, who was clinging with
a life-and-death grip to the flagstaff guys.
For a second the _Grampus_ heaved and tossed on the waves, then righted
herself and drove ahead.
Bob picked himself up and climbed hastily back into the conning tower.
He was sore and bruised, but he realized that he could not leave the
submarine to steer herself.
“What was that?” cried Dick, rising to his knees and lifting a pale
face upward.
“It must have been a submarine mine,” answered Bob, in a voice that
shivered perceptibly.
“A mine!” returned Dick. “But it exploded _behind_ us! If we set it
off, why didn’t it explode under us and blow us to smithereens?”
“It must have been a mine of the floating variety--a contact mine which
was out of working order. We passed over it; and then, when we were
safely out of the way, the pesky thing let go.”
Dick Ferral’s face grew even paler than it had been. As the dread
import of Bob’s words dawned on him, he realized the close call the
submarine and all her passengers had had.
“A narrow escape!” Dick muttered, getting slowly to his feet and
rubbing his head, “I never want to get so close to kingdom come as
that again! Why, Bob, we couldn’t have done that trick once in a
thousand times.”
“We did it this time, anyhow,” answered Bob quietly. “A miss is as good
as a mile, Dick. Better go below and explain to our friends.”
Dick staggered back and climbed into the tower, and his face was still
white as he dropped off the ladder into the periscope room.
Clackett, Speake, and Ysabel crowded around him.
“What happened?” cried Clackett. “The old catamaran turned a regular
handspring; then she stood on her propeller for about a minute and
seemed to be thinking of going down to stay.”
Dick explained in a low voice what had happened, sitting on the locker
and almost overcome by the narrow escape of the boat and her living
cargo.
Speake began to shake; Clackett rubbed a dazed hand across his eyes;
and Ysabel, dropping on one of the low seats, buried her face in her
hands.
“Bob!” she gasped, looking up; “how can he stay up there in the conning
tower after such a hairbreadth escape as that?”
“Bob?” returned Dick. “Why, he’s as calm as a day in June. He’s not
even ruffled. He----”
“Listen!” called Clackett. “Bob’s saying something.”
“Speake!” came the voice from the conning tower.
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Speake.
“Get to work on your electric stove, providing it wasn’t smashed by
that somersault we turned, and see if we can’t have a piping-hot meal.
Ysabel will help you.”
“That’s what he’s thinking of,” muttered Dick, “something to eat. Well,
Bob Steele has got more nerve than I have.”
While Speake and Ysabel were getting supper ready, Dick and Clackett
went into the prison room and looked at the men confined there.
They were all lying in an indiscriminate heap near the after bulkhead.
There was a chorus of wild gurgling behind the gags, and Dick and
Clackett set to work and laid the prisoners around the room in
something like order. The overturned cots were placed upright, and
Pedro was laid on one, and the unknown member of Fingal’s gang was
placed on the other. Fingal and the general were left lying on the hard
floor.
“The general,” remarked Clackett, poking him in the ribs with the toe
of his boot, “was goin’ to take care o’ us in a summary fashion. He
couldn’t hardly wait till nightfall, the general couldn’t. Ain’t he a
nice-lookin’ specimen, Dick?”
“He’s the worst-looking swab I ever saw!” averred Dick. “He was all
sword and spurs, and he didn’t know how to use ’em. That’s the reason
he got captured. I guess he’ll be hung, fair enough. He ought to be
hung, anyhow, and he would have been if he had fallen into the hands of
General Mendez. We ought to have put him ashore to take the place of
Gaines. We robbed the soldiers of one victim, and we should have given
them another.”
“I tell ye what we ought to have done,” averred Clackett. “We ought to
have laid all these here prisoners out on the deck when we was passing
that fort.”
“You’re right,” cried Dick. “That was a bright idea. But,” and Dick’s
face fell, “like a good many bright ideas it came too late.”
“With them fellers on the deck,” said Clackett, waxing eloquent over
his afterthought, “I’ll bet somethin’ handsome we could have run past
that fort and never been fired at once.”
“Like enough. But we’re past the fort, and we’re right side up with
care, and we’ve got Bob Steele to thank for it all. Let’s go back and
see how near it is to supper time.”