PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.
“That,” said Bob, “is a bomb. While I lay on the floor, all but
helpless, the disguised Jap set fire to the fuse and planted the bomb
in the corner.”
Glennie stared aghast. Carl mumbled to himself, and very carefully
returned the bomb to the place where he had found it.
“He vas a blackguard!” growled Carl, backing away from the bomb and
shaking his fist at it. “Der sgoundrel vould haf plowed us py some
smidereens. I don’d like Chaps any more as I do shinks.”
“You must be mistaken!” gasped Glennie. “Either that, or else Tolo
is a madman! Why, the explosion of that bomb would have wrecked the
submarine and killed us all.”
The ensign shuddered.
“It would have been barbarous!” he went on, worked up by the enormity
of the crime that had been planned. “As an act of war, it would have
been savage enough, in all conscience, but here we are at peace with
all the world, and under the protection of Old Glory!”
“I can’t help that, Glennie,” said Bob grimly. “We’ve got to take the
facts as we find them. I managed to get hands on the revolver you
dropped, and had strength enough to fire one shot. The bullet missed
its mark, and Tolo jumped up and started for me. But I guess the
revolver scared him off, for he whirled around before he got very close
and darted up the conning-tower ladder.”
“He left the fuse burning?”
“Yes; and evidently expected a blowup.”
“Why wasn’t there a blowup?”
“Well, the coffee that had got me into trouble got us all out of it.
I fell, knocked over a stool, the stool knocked over the cup, and the
coffee was spilled out and flowed over the burning fuse.”
“That’s the most remarkable thing I ever heard!” declared Glennie.
“Bob Steele’s luck,” chuckled Carl. “I vould radder be mit Bob, und
haf a biece oof his luck, dan any blace vat I know. Ven he has some
goot fordunes, he has to pass dem aroundt to der fellers vat iss mit
him--vich means me, for I vas alvays aroundt.”
“Go on, Mr. Steele,” said Glennie. “What happened after that?”
Bob, attending to his steering and keeping an eye on the periscope,
told how he had lost consciousness for a few moments, had revived,
lashed the wheel, and climbed to the hatch. The rest, including how he,
Dick, and Speake had made a dive for safety, came rapidly and in the
fewest possible words.
“From all of which it appears,” remarked Glennie quietly, when the
recital was done, “that we owe our lives to Bob Steele. But I can’t
understand this Tolo business. Why was he playing the part of a chink?”
“So you wouldn’t know him,” said Bob, “and so he could still be with
you.”
“But what was the use?”
“That seems plain,” went on Bob, wondering a little at the ensign’s
failure to see the game that had been attempted. “As I figure it, Mr.
Glennie, there is a Japanese secret society consisting of a number of
misguided young men who call themselves Sons of the Rising Sun. Their
government does not sanction their acts, and presumably knows nothing
about them. These Independent Protectors of the Kingdom have heard of
this wonderful submarine ship invented by Captain Nemo, junior, and
they are well fitted to understand its possibilities in time of war.”
“Granting all that, just what has it to do with the actions of Tolo?”
“I’m coming to that. Tolo, I take it, is a member of the Young Samurai
Society. No doubt the society has had spies in Central and South
America. These spies reported that the _Grampus_ had been sold to the
United States government, conditional upon her making a safe passage
around the Horn and up the western coast to Mare Island. I don’t
suppose that the Sons of the Rising Sun were at all pleased with this
information. They are enthusiasts, and probably don’t care a rap for
their own lives, or for the lives of any other people, so long as they
can do a good stroke of work for Nippon.”
“But Tolo,” put in the ensign impatiently, “what of him?”
“Probably, too,” continued Bob, “it was known that the _Seminole_ had
dropped you at La Guayra, and that you were to accompany the submarine
on her long cruise. Tolo was commissioned to watch you, get aboard the
submarine if possible, make sketches, and then destroy her.”
“But do you consider what a crime that amounts to? That it is virtually
an act of war and might embroil two countries?”
“It is an act of piracy, Mr. Glennie. The steamer from which the Japs
came was not flying the Japanese flag, nor any other flag, so far as I
could see. They’re working on their own hook.”
“Then they are liable to be caught and punished by their own
government!”
“Of course; but the Sons of the Rising Sun have the bit in their own
teeth and are going their own pace. I’ll bet something handsome they’d
sacrifice their steamer and their own lives, into the bargain, if they
could be sure of destroying the _Grampus_. The Japs are fanatics on the
subject of patriotism--everybody knows that. But to go on with Tolo. He
hired out to you, found a chance to steal your dispatches, and thought
advisable to take them. Probably he thought they contained information
of value to the Young Samurai. After that he disguised himself as a
Chinaman--not a difficult task for a Jap--and called on us in the
harbor at Port of Spain. He was cunning enough to hand you that yarn
about knowing Tolo, and to hang out regarding the fifty dollars so that
he could get you to take him down the coast to the Amazon. On the way,
Tolo was snooping around and learning all he could about the boat. The
blowing up of the gasoline tank was probably an accident, but mixing
water with our fuel was done with a purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“To delay us, and make it possible for the steamer to come near. This
morning Tolo must have heard how we had narrowly escaped running the
steamer down during the night, and I am sure he knew the steamer was
hanging around our course just before he went down to get breakfast.
He had come aboard the _Grampus_ equipped with his bomb and his drugs,
and it’s a wonder his scoundrelly plans did not carry. Of course,” Bob
added, after a long silence, “I am only putting two and two together,
and making a guess. The guess may be close to the truth, or wide of it,
but that’s the way I size up the facts that have come to us.”
“You haf hit der nail righdt on der head!” declared Carl. “Der Sons
of der Rising Sun vas afder us, aber dey vill findt dot ve don’d vas
ashleep. Ve’re a leedle punch of badriots ourseluf, you bed you, und
an American feller has got id ofer der Chap like anyding.”
Carl puffed out his chest and slapped his wishbone.
“I am sure you have made a good guess, Mr. Steele,” said Glennie, “and
the way you have argued the thing out is mighty convincing. It shows
us what we’re up against during this cruise, and I’m wondering why the
captain of the _Seminole_ didn’t tip me off.”
“It’s likely he didn’t know anything about these Sons of the Rising
Sun,” replied Bob. “We’ve only been able to get a line on them by
facing considerable danger, and taking a lot of hard knocks.”
“Ven dose leedle fellers whipped Rooshia,” put in Carl, “dey got puffed
oop like I can’t tell. Dere is some chips on deir shoulters all der
time now, und they ought to be knocked off.”
“Don’t make a common mistake, Mr. Pretzel,” cautioned Glennie. “The
Japanese government has always been a good friend of the United States,
and you know there are hotheads in Japan just as there are in our own
country. But both governments are on friendly terms and will always be
so. The mikado’s government doesn’t know what these Sons of the Rising
Sun are doing, so what happens is just a little private war between
them and us, with the _Grampus_ as the bone of contention.”
“Vell,” and Carl wagged his head decidedly, “ve got our teet’ on der
pone und dey can’t shake us loose.”
“That’s right,” laughed Bob.
“Mr. Pretzel is a jingo,” said Glennie. “But what am I to do about
those dispatches?”
“We’ll go right on to the Amazon and Para. When we get there, Mr.
Glennie, I’d advise you to make a clean breast of everything to Mr.
Brigham. Perhaps he can help you get hold of the papers in some way.”
The ensign shook his head gloomily. “I see what will happen to me,” he
muttered, “but I guess I can face the music, all right. I’m sorry for
the governor, though, when the news gets to Boston.”
At this moment Speake came in and began clearing up the scattered tin
dishes that had been used in serving the morning meal. He reported
Gaines and Clackett as feeling all right, and actively engaged in their
duties.
Bob ordered the ballast tanks emptied so as to bring the submarine
within a dozen feet of the surface. At this depth the periscope ball
cleared the waves, the automatic valves opened, and those in the
periscope room were able to take a look at the surface of the sea. The
steamer was nowhere in sight--there was not even a smudge of smoke on
the horizon.
The _Grampus_ was lifted further until the conning tower was clear
of the waves. Speake took the wheel, Bob studied the chart and gave
him the course, and then turned in for a little sleep. Dick and Carl
likewise sought a little rest; and while the king of the motor boys and
his chums slept, the submarine plowed onward toward Brazil at a swift
pace.