RUBBING ELBOWS WITH DEATH.
Bob had neither the time nor the strength to manifest any surprise over
the startling revelation made by Glennie. Not only that, but his brain
was in such a condition it was well-nigh incapable of surprise.
In that critical moment when he felt a terrifying helplessness surely
but steadily creeping over him, he centered every effort on the attempt
to make Ah Sin a prisoner.
Swiftly as a lightning flash, the idea struck through Bob’s brain that
the Chinaman had all to do with the baffling situation aboard the
_Grampus_. If Bob could drag him down and secure him he felt that, at a
later moment, the treacherous Celestial might be dealt with as his evil
deeds justified.
But the work he had mapped out for himself exceeded his powers. There
was none to come to his aid. Below, in the tank room and motor room,
was a silence undisturbed by human voice or movement, and there, in the
periscope chamber, the only noise to be heard was the deep breathing of
Bob’s unconscious friends and the rattling sounds of the scuffle going
forward between the young motorist and Ah Sin.
The slouch hat and the false queue were kicked into one corner. Ah
Sin’s long, lean fingers were gripping Bob’s throat. There was no look
of hate, or anger, or even of determination in the Chinaman’s face; the
expression was blank and saturnine, as though he was merely a tool,
operated by wires like a puppet and carrying out the will of some one
in high authority.
Suddenly, putting forth all his strength, Ah Sin lifted Bob by the
throat and threw him bodily across Speake and against the edge of the
locker. Bob tried to rise, but found it impossible.
The awful weakness held him in thrall and was fastening gyves upon his
wrists. Soon he would be utterly helpless, like those lying around him,
and what would Ah Sin then do to the _Grampus?_
A spasm of alarm and apprehension rushed through the young motorist.
Was this to be the end of the submarine’s voyage? Was the sale of the
boat to the government destined never to be consummated?
Vaguely Bob thought of Captain Nemo, junior, lying sick in that house
in Belize, of his unswerving confidence in the king of the motor boys,
and of his tremendous disappointment if anything happened to the
submarine during her daring cruise.
All this brought every ounce of Bob’s failing strength back to him. He
shoved his hand along the side of the locker and twined his fingers
about the grip of the revolver dropped by Glennie; then, with a
despairing effort, he lifted himself on one elbow and again directed
his gaze at the Chinaman.
Ah Sin had not been idle. He was holding something in his hand--a round
object from which hung a long, black string. The Chinaman was lighting
a match and touching the flame to the end of the string.
Bob could not see very distinctly, for everything in the periscope
chamber, even the chamber itself, was reeling about him in fantastic
lines.
The glow at the end of the black string sputtered and hissed. Stepping
over to one corner, Ah Sin placed the round object on the floor with
exceeding care, pulling out the string so that it lay in a straight
line, the burning end pointed toward the center of the room.
For a moment Ah Sin knelt and stared. His face was still inscrutable,
his eyes showing nothing more than a mild interest in his fiendish work.
A bomb!
The realization broke over Bob’s benumbed brain like a thunderclap.
Ah Sin was seeking to blow up the submarine, annihilating not only the
boat, but those aboard as well.
On Bob alone depended the salvation of the _Grampus_ and her crew. And
he was almost helpless in the grip of the baneful spell that had fallen
over every one on board, with the exception of the Chinaman!
Bob lifted the revolver unsteadily. A report rang out, sending wild
echoes clattering through the steel hull.
The bullet missed the kneeling Chinaman, struck clanging against the
curved iron plates, glanced against the bulkhead above the locker, and
dropped flattened and harmless at the side of Glennie.
Owing to Bob’s unsteady hand, the Chinaman had escaped the bit of lead,
but he was startled and frightened. Leaping up he whirled and peered at
Bob. The latter still clutched the revolver, but his hand swayed back
and forth as he leveled it.
Ah Sin made a quick jump toward Bob, evidently with the intention of
disarming him; but there was something in the lad’s wide, straining
eyes that caused him to change his mind. Swerving aside he rushed at
the ladder, mounted swiftly, and disappeared through the hatch.
With a fierce effort Bob concentrated his wandering wits upon the bomb.
Someway, somehow, he must reach the infernal machine and extinguish the
fuse.
Dropping the revolver, he rolled over and over, a lurch of the boat,
running erratically with no guiding hand at either wheel or motor,
helping him to reach the foot of the periscope table.
With the utmost difficulty he caught the legs of the rigidly secured
table and pulled himself to his knees. The cup, from which he had taken
only a few swallows of coffee, stood on a floor just below the end of
the table, and not more than a foot from the burning fuse. By a miracle
the cup had not been overturned.
For him to reach the fuse in his weakened condition was impossible;
but, if he could regain his feet and kick the cup over the coffee that
remained in it might quench the fire of the fuse.
Three times he endeavored to draw himself erect by means of the table,
but succeeded only in dropping backward as though pushed by a heavy,
resistless hand. But the fourth time he managed to remain upright,
trembling with the strain he had put upon himself.
It seemed a trifling thing to overset the coffee cup, but Bob Steele
had never planned a harder task.
There are but few things in this life, however, that will not yield to
pluck and determination, and fortune favored Bob in his grave fight.
The _Grampus_ pitched forward, rising aft and making a steep incline
of the floor. Bob’s feet slipped, and he lost his hold on the table.
As he came heavily down he shot against a stool, which was overturned
and upset the cup. The liquid in the cup had slopped over the sides,
and with the overturning a miniature wave of brown rolled along the
inclined floor.
There followed a hiss as it engulfed the tiny blaze at the end of the
fuse, and then a little spiral of smoke eddied upward.
This much Bob saw, and a fierce exultation ran through him. The bomb
was harmless--but where was Ah Sin? Would he not come back, discover
what Bob had accomplished, and again set a match to the fuse?’
This might happen, but there was nothing Bob Steele could do to prevent
it.
He had taken only a few swallows of the coffee, and to this, and to his
superior powers of endurance, was due the fact that he had kept his
senses and a remnant of his strength long enough to accomplish what he
had.
But now a wave of darkness rolled over him. As unconscious of what
was taking place around him as he was helpless to prevent further
disaster, his head fell back and he lay as one dead among his silent
and motionless companions.