CLIPPING THE DRAGON'S CLAWS.
"Will it work, matey?"
"It ought to--providing there is anything for it to work with. When
you talk by wireless, Dick, you know there has got to be a second
instrument within reach of your Hertzian waves. Lucky we were able to
pick up that wireless instrument in Buenos Ayres. Lucky, too, that
Ensign Glennie knows how to use the key and to talk Spanish."
Just behind a bold headland to the north of Cape Virgins and within the
mouth of the River Gallego, the submarine _Grampus_ was anchored. The
shore of the little bay lay steep to, the submarine being moored within
a jump of the wooded bank.
Wires issued from the conning-tower hatch of the craft, crossed the
stretch of water, and climbed a high tree that had been stripped of its
branches. From the top of the tree hung the aërials. Below deck, in the
periscope room, was the instrument, with John Henry Glennie, Ensign, U.
S. N., waiting at the key.
Motor Matt and Dick Ferral were on deck.
"Are you sure, matey," went on Dick, "that that was the Jap steamer our
lookout raised from the headland?"
"We can't be sure of anything where those Japs are concerned. The
steamer was of about the same size, although differently painted. But,
then, paint is cheap, and it sometimes makes a big difference in a
boat's appearance. The suspicious circumstance is that, while she was
passing the mouth of the Gallegos, she pulled down the cross of St.
George and ran up the Chilian flag."
"And she had two wireless masts!" exclaimed Dick. "These Sons of the
Rising Sun are wily chaps, but, seeing that we have come from Para,
all down the eastern coast of South America without any trouble, I was
beginning to think the Japs had given up, and that they were going to
let us finish our long cruise without paying us any more attention."
"Remember what Mr. Brigham, the American consul at Para, told us,
Dick--that these fanatical young Japs never turn back once they
have set their hands to a piece of work. Our business is to get the
_Grampus_ around the Horn and into the hands of the commandant of the
navy yard at Mare Island, and collect a hundred thousand dollars for
Captain Nemo, Jr. The Sons of the Rising Sun came near winning while we
were on the way from Port of Spain to Para, and the mere fact that we
got the best of them isn't going to cause them to throw up their hands
and haul off."[A]
[A] How Motor Matt and his chums were commissioned by Captain Nemo,
Jr., to take the _Grampus_ around South America to San Francisco, how
they met unexpected enemies, and how they worsted them, was set forth
in No. 18 of the Motor Stories, "Motor Matt in Brazil; or, Under the
Amazon."
"If there's a wireless machine on that steamer," observed Dick
speculatively, "it doesn't seem to me that she can belong to the Japs."
"It was probably easier for the Japs to install a wireless apparatus
than it was for us. Undoubtedly they had every part of the machine in
the hold of their vessel when they left their own country. As for us,
we had to pick up a second-hand instrument at Buenos Ayres. I don't
know that wireless telegraphy is going to help us any; but there's a
chance that it may, and we can't neglect any chance if we want to clip
the claws of the dragon."
"Right-o, old ship! Brigham told us not to let any one know what ports
we were to call at, or what course we were going to take. If that
steamer belongs to the Japs, those aboard won't know whether we're
going through Magellan Strait or around the Horn."
"Our orders," said Matt reflectively, "carry us around the Horn, but
those orders were given when it was not known that the Sons of the
Rising Sun were after us."
"It was a good scheme putting in here and sending a lookout up on top
of that headland," and Dick peered up toward the high point where
Speake was sitting with a glass to his eyes. "If you hadn't done that,
you'd never have seen that steamer, or----"
Dick was interrupted by a blue flash from the top of the tree.
"Strike me lucky!" he broke off, grabbing Matt's arm in a tense grip.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," answered Matt excitedly, shaking off Dick's hand and
hurrying toward the conning tower, "that Glennie is in communication
with somebody. Stay here and watch, Dick, while I go below."
In the periscope room all was excitement. Clackett, Gaines, Carl, and
Glennie were grouped about a table which, loaded with sending and
receiving apparatus, completely filled one end of the chamber. Ensign
Glennie, stripped to his shirt, was humped over the key, cramming the
ear phone to the side of his head and listening breathlessly. Matt
pushed close and looked on with deep interest.
"What is it?" he asked, as Glennie leaned back on his seat.
"I can't make out," was the ensign's disappointed answer. "This old
second-hand instrument don't seem to be keyed properly, or else we're
out of the zone of the ether waves and only catch snatches of---- Ah!"
he finished, jumping for the table again.
After a few moments he lifted his head.
"I caught that," he said. "It was Spanish. 'This is the Chilian war
ship _Salvadore_,' ran the message; 'what do you want?' It was clear as
a bell, and was sent from some 'station' fairly close. There comes the
answer, and I can't make head or tail to it--the sending instrument is
too far away."
"It must come from Punta Arenas, in the strait," averred Matt. "That's
a Chilian settlement, and the station there is talking with the war
ship."
"Or with that mysterious steamer that passed here a few hours ago,"
qualified Glennie.
"Py chimineddy!" muttered Carl. "Schust to t'ink dot all dose t'ings
vas t'rown troo der air, und----"
"Hist!" warned Matt as Glennie began to take another message off the
sounder.
"The supposed war ship answers," said Glennie, "'All right; anything
else?'"
"Try and make out what follows, if you can," returned Matt.
The chronometer on the wall ticked off seven minutes.
"I guess that's the end of it, Matt," said Glennie.
"Our spark won't carry to the land station?" queried Matt.
"If theirs won't come here distinctly, ours won't be able to reach
them."
"Then we'll get into communication with the boat. Ask if she's the
Chilian war ship _Salvadore_."
The Spanish words ran crackling up the wires to the top of the tree and
jumped off into space.
"The answer is 'Yes,' Matt," said Glennie.
"Now give them this," said Matt: "'The United States submarine, in
charge of one Matt King, is going around the Horn. Watch for her, pay
her a visit, if you can, and have the craft carefully looked over. The
submarine _Grampus_ is a marvel of her kind, and a long way ahead of
any other under-water boat yet launched.'"
Glennie stared in blank amazement.
"Vy, Matt, dot's a gifavay!" gasped Carl. "Prigham saidt dot ve vasn't
to dell anypody vere ve're going."
"That's my notion, Matt," said Glennie.
"Send the message, Glennie," ordered Matt.
The perplexed ensign bent to his key.
"It's gone," he muttered, "and here's something else coming back."
A few minutes later Glennie translated into English the words that had
come to his sharp ears.
"They want to know where the submarine is now."
"Tell them," said Matt resolutely, "that she's three days out from the
River Plate, and may be well below Cape Virgins by this time."
"Ach, lisden!" whispered Carl. "Pelow Cape Firgins--und here ve are to
der nort', in Gallegos Pay."
"They say they will watch for her," reported Glennie, after sending the
message and getting the answer.
Matt smiled grimly.
"Tell them, Glennie," said he, "to try and pick her up before she gets
around the Horn."
"They say they'll try," announced Glennie presently. "Now," he
finished, removing the ear phones, "I'd like to know what you're trying
to do, Matt."
"It's a cinch, I think," replied Matt, "that you've been talking with
that steamer that passed the headland, bound south, a few hours ago."
"No doubt about that."
"She hauled down the British ensign and hauled up the Chilian flag as
she passed."
"Exactly, and that looks suspicious, although it might be explained."
"She says she's a Chilian war ship," went on Matt, "but she had no
guns. If she's not a war ship, she's not Chilian; and if she's not
Chilian, she's Japanese; and if she's Japanese, she belongs to the
Sons of the Rising Sun, who are trying to lay a trap for us. Here's
where we have a chance to clip the dragon's claws--and we've virtually
accomplished it by wireless."
Matt whirled away.
"Gaines," said he, "you and Clackett strip those wires off that tree
and call Speake down from the top of the hill. Carl," he added, "you
help Glennie clear these instruments out of the periscope room. They've
served their purpose better than I ever dreamed they would when we took
them aboard at Buenos Ayres."
Gaines and Clackett at once shinned up the iron ladder to carry out
their orders. Carl and Glennie began carrying the wireless machine
into the steel room abaft the periscope chamber. Meanwhile Matt was
overhauling some charts, which he had spread out on top of the locker.
Dick, Speake, Clackett, and Gaines--the two latter with the coil of
wire and the aërial points--came down into the periscope room before
Matt was through.
"What's the next move, matey?" asked Dick.
"Get up the anchor and cast off the mooring ropes, old chap," Matt
answered, getting to his feet. "If that boat we were talking with
really belonged to the Japs, then she's hustling for the Horn to
overtake us. While she's beating around the southern end of Terra del
Fuego, we'll pass through the Strait of Magellan and reach away up the
coast of Chili."
"Hoop-a-la!" exulted Carl. "Dot's der vay der king oof der modor poys
fools der Chaps! Vile dey look for us von blace, den ve scoot out some
odder blace!"
"That's the trick!" cried Ferral; "and it's the trick that wins."
"But our orders carry us around the Horn," demurred Glennie.
"You're aboard as the representative of the United States Government,
Glennie," said Matt. "If we try to go around the Horn, there's no
telling what will happen. A hundred thousand dollars is trembling in
the balance, and ought we to take chances with it? It's for you to say."
"Then go through the strait," answered Glennie.
Motor Matt had reasoned wisely; but the failure of their wireless
instrument to catch the messages from Punta Arenas was to cause them a
vast amount of trouble.