NORTHWARD BOUND.
The _Grampus_ had no more than dropped anchor in her old berth than
Matt, Glennie, Captain Pons, the captain of the port, and the negroes
were alongside in the boat.
"Great spark plugs," cried Matt, "but you fellows gave me a scare."
"Vell, bard," answered Carl, "ve vas a leedle schared ourselufs."
"Here's another scare for you, matey," called Dick. "The Sons of the
Rising Sun have a submarine of their own, and are after us. They were
here, off Lota, and just went north with that torpedo in tow."
"Jupiter!" exclaimed Glennie. "How did you fellows know that?"
"You act as though it wasn't any news to you."
"It isn't, but we thought you fellows were not informed and would fall
a victim to the _Pom_."
"_Pom?_" echoed Dick.
"That's the name of the other submarine," went on Matt. "She's a French
craft and was brought here by this man, Captain Pons, to be turned over
to the Chilian government. Five Japs worked a trick and succeeded in
getting hold of her."
"Why, how----"
"We'll tell you all about it later, Dick. Where were you when that
torpedo went off?"
"Just diving to the bottom to go hunting for the other torpedo. That
Whitehead they fired never touched us."
"It must have touched something," put in Speake, "or the firing pin
wouldn't have got in its work."
"It hit a harbor buoy," said Matt. "At least, the captain of the port
says there was a buoy at this point. As it isn't here now, it must have
been demolished. It's a lucky thing for all of us that the buoy was
between the _Grampus_ and the Whitehead. Glennie and I will go back to
the shore, Dick, and get a barrel of gasoline. You get the hose rigged
and have everything ready to discharge the gasoline in short order.
We're northward bound, and are going to get away from these waters just
as quick as the nation will let us."
There was something of a disappointment in this for the men on the
submarine. They had hoped for a chance to stretch their legs ashore,
but they appreciated the necessity of getting the _Grampus_ out of
harm's way as quickly as possible.
"Won't the _Pom_ lay for us as we pull out of the bay, Matt?" asked
Dick.
"She can't lay for us. You see, she had only two torpedoes. One of
those was destroyed in the attack made on the _Grampus_ in the bay;
the other one the _Pom_ is dragging off to some place where she can
get it in shape for work. We need not fear any attack from the Sons
of the Rising Sun until the other Whitehead is ready for use. If we
act quickly, we can get well away from the _Pom_ before she becomes
dangerous."
"_Diable!_" rasped out Captain Pons. "Is it ze American vay to r-run
from ze enemy? Pur-r-r-soo and capture, zat is ze sing. I will go wiz
you, _oui_, I, myself, Captain Pons. You will help me get back ze
_Pom_. Eh?"
"We're not here to take any risks with the _Grampus_, captain," said
Matt. "Responsibility for the safety of the boat rests on my shoulders,
and you'll have to get some Chilian war ship to help you."
"Zat is not right!" cried the captain. "One mariner is in ze duty bound
to help anozzer mariner in ze distress. Me, I call on you. You refuse,
zen zat is mos' contemptible."
"I'm sorry you look at it in that way, captain," replied Matt; "but
it's just possible I know my own business better than you do."
Captain Pons had a little fit all by himself, and while he had it he
was saying unpleasant things.
"What's the matter with the frog eater?" cried Dick. "Throw him
overboard!"
Matt signed for the captain of the port to have the negro oarsmen get
the boat back to the landing. The captain at once gave the order and
the boat danced away in the direction of the wharf.
Captain Pons was still calling down anathemas on the heads of all
Americans who refused to help a Frenchman in "ze distress."
"By gar," he cried, "I vill vire my government how you haf treat' me! I
vill use ze cable, and let ze president of my country know it all. It
is mos' contemptible!"
"Captain," said Matt, "we are not allowed to take any strangers aboard
the _Grampus_. Our submarine has appliances which put her so far ahead
of every other boat in her class that we are all under seal of secrecy
and are bound by a pledge to keep strangers away. So, you see, it would
be impossible for you to take a cruise in the _Grampus_."
Captain Pons glared.
"It is mos' contemptible!" was all he could say.
Matt and Glennie, without delaying further, pushed into the town. Matt
had little difficulty in finding the gasoline he wanted. He had to go
to two or three places before he found fuel that answered the severe
tests he put it to, but finally he got what he desired and had it
hauled to the landing.
The captain of the port was not in evidence, but his two negroes were
waiting at the boat.
Matt had come down to the wharf in the wagon that brought the gasoline,
and Glennie had been left to follow on foot. The ensign put in an
appearance just as the barrel had been transferred to the boat. Matt
was surprised to see him carrying a rifle.
The only firearms aboard the _Grampus_ consisted of a six-shooter which
had accompanied the ensign when he first assumed his duties on the
submarine.
"What are you going to do with that, Glennie?" laughed Matt. "Shoot
Japs?"
"Well, no, not exactly," answered Glennie, "There are a good many ways
in which a weapon of this sort might come in handy, besides using it
for shooting Japs. It's an American gun, Matt--a Marlin. It looked sort
of homelike, so I just took it in, along with a box of cartridges."
If Matt hated one thing more than another, it was a gun. He had seen
firearms used so recklessly while he was in the Southwest that he had
acquired a strong prejudice against them. Notwithstanding this fact,
he was a crack shot, and had more than once carried off the prize in a
shooting contest.
"All right, Glennie," said he, although a trifle reluctantly, "bring it
along."
"You don't like guns, Matt," observed the ensign as he lowered himself
into the boat and dropped down on one of the thwarts.
"Or knives, either," added Matt, "when they are used to get the better
of another fellow. A pair of fists make pretty good weapons."
"Fists are all right," laughed Glennie, "so long as the other chap uses
them; but when you find an enemy standing off forty or fifty feet and
looking at you over the sights of a gun--well, that's the time another
gun would be mighty valuable."
By the time the small boat fell in alongside the _Grampus_, Dick, Carl,
and the rest had the hose ready and it took only a few moments to rig
the pump. Presently the gasoline was flowing down the tower hatch and
into the reservoir below.
Dick, keeping one eye on the negroes while they bent over the pump
handles, leaned against the conning tower and heaved a long breath.
"I'm hoping, old ship," said he to Matt, "that we'll be able to leave
the Japs behind, this time, for good and all. Those on the _Pom_ must
have seen us while we had their craft under our search light, and I
guessed good and hard why they didn't turn and send another torpedo at
us. I didn't know, you see, that they only had two Whiteheads to their
blessed name. We could have pulled their fangs if we had opened up that
torpedo and took out the dynamite."
"I intended," answered Matt, "to take the torpedo aboard through one
of our tubes as soon as we reached this harbor, but the captain of the
port came down on us before I had the chance."
"How did you find out about that submarine, and the Japs being in
charge of her?"
Matt straightened out this point to his chum's satisfaction. That part
of Matt's recital which had to do with the Jap who had been captured
under the wharf was particularly interesting to Dick.
"Those fellows don't care a rap for their own lives," muttered Dick,
"and that's what makes 'em such nasty fighters. When that fellow got
out through the _Pom's_ torpedo tube, he must have come up directly
under the Whitehead. By hugging the torpedo close, he could have got
his head out of water without any of us on the _Grampus_ seeing him.
But he took long chances, just the same, and there are only four Japs
left to navigate the other craft. The work probably calls for all
hands, and there's bound to be a time when the _Pom_ can't run for lack
of hands to navigate her. The Japs are only human, and they'll have to
have a spell of rest like every one else."
"We've got a good chance to show them our heels," said Matt, "and it's
our duty to make the most of it."
"I'm a Fiji, though," said Dick, "if I don't hate to run away from
those Sons of the Rising Sun. It looks as though the United States and
Great Britain had struck their colors to the yellow rascals."
"I feel the same way, Dick, but this submarine is worth a hundred
thousand dollars, and we're only her trustees. It's our duty not to
take any chances with her."
"Right-o, matey. I understand that just as well as you do. Captain
Nemo, Jr., ought to give you a good slice of that hundred thousand when
you tie up the _Grampus_ at the navy-yard wharf."
"I'm not looking for that, Dick," returned Motor Matt earnestly. "It's
the idea of _making good_ that appeals to me beyond anything and
everything else. It isn't so much the money that comes to us for what
we do, but the way we toe the scratch that counts."
An hour later all preliminaries were finished and the _Grampus_ was off
up the bay, tanks emptied and steel hull high in the water, her motors
humming and setting a record pace.