THROUGH THE TORPEDO TUBE.
Motor Matt was conducted along a narrow steel corridor. Two or three
ruffianly looking men were passed. They were all in greasy overclothes
and paid the prisoners little attention. A door finally admitted Matt
and the two with him into a chamber in the very bow of the boat. Here
there were a couple of torpedo tubes, although, so far as Matt could
see, there were no torpedoes.
"We'll put him out of the starboard tube," said Jurgens. "Close the bow
port, Whistler, and blow the water out of the tube. I'll take the gun
while you're busy."
Whistler handed over the revolver and pulled a lever at the side of the
chamber. Matt could hear a muffled sound as the port closed. Thereupon
Whistler, by means of another lever, turned compressed air into the
tube, and there came a stifled swishing sound as the water was ejected.
Finally the sound ceased, and Whistler opened the breech door and
stepped back.
The cavernous tube yawned blackly under Matt's eyes. He was a lad of
grit and determination, but such an experience as he was about to pass
through would have shaken even stronger nerves than his.
"Take me to the surface," said Matt, "and let me out of the submarine
by way of the deck!"
"And mebby get spotted and captured ourselves, eh?" answered Jurgens.
"Not much! Here's the way you're going to get out if you get out at
all."
"What did you bring Holcomb and me into the submarine for? Why didn't
you leave us on the wharf?"
"It would have been too easy for you to tip us off to the other
officers. We needed a little time to get the _Grampus_ submerged. I
don't care how much you tip us off now. We'll not come to the surface
again until we're well off Cape May." Jurgens snapped his fingers.
"That for Townsend!" he added, defiantly; "let him catch me if he can."
"You seem to know as much about submarines as you do about moving
pictures," remarked Matt, caustically.
"I know a good deal about a lot of things, and I've found the
knowledge mighty handy a lot of times. If you're ready, squeeze into
the tube. We haven't much time to spare."
"But----"
"Get in, I tell you!" and Jurgens waved the revolver threateningly.
"There's not much danger, but you'd better put your fingers over your
ears in order to save your ear drums. The pressure of the air that
shoots you out of the tube is rather heavy. But I'd advise you to take
off your clothes."
Matt saw that it was useless to argue with Jurgens or Whistler. The two
men had some desperate scheme at the back of their heads and they were
not resorting to any halfway measures in carrying it out.
Pulling his cap well down on his head, Matt squeezed into the dark tube.
"Ready?" called Jurgens.
"Yes," answered Matt, almost stifled, pushing his hands against his
ears.
"Take a long breath--we're going to close the breech door."
The young motorist breathed deeply, and the next moment there was a
clang as the breech was closed.
Instantly there followed a grinding sound as the outer port was opened.
The chilling water rushed in. For the space of a heart beat Matt felt
the water submerging his cramped body and filling the full length of
the tube. Two or three ticks of a watch would have told the duration of
the experience, but to Matt it seemed like an eternity.
Then there came a shock that nearly made him unconscious. He thought he
was being torn limb from limb by the rushing air. In a twinkling--so
swiftly that he scarcely realized it--he was shot from the end of the
tube and into the water.
He was a fraction of a second in getting control of his limbs; after
that, he began kicking and using his hands to propel himself upward.
Half stunned he came to the surface, and the lights of the wharf swam
in his watery eyes. He gasped for breath and then sent up a thrilling
cry for help.
The difficulty of keeping himself afloat, with all his water-soaked
clothing to hold him down, was a good deal greater than he had thought
it would be.
To his great relief, above the roaring in his ears he heard sounds of
running feet on the wharf, and excited voices shouting something he
could not understand. There was a splash beside him. Instinctively he
threw out his hands and grasped a rope.
"All right?" cried a voice from the wharf.
"Yes," he answered.
Then those on the wharf began pulling him in and soon had him, dripping
and spent, on the planks.
"Where's Holcomb?"
Matt made out McMillan's face bending over him. The question caused the
young motorist suddenly to remember that there was something yet to be
done for Holcomb.
"Get out a boat," said Matt, "and lay to about a fathom off the end of
the pier. Holcomb is coming up--and he can't swim."
"Coming up?" repeated McMillan, blankly.
"Yes; they're going to shoot him out of the torpedo tube, just as they
did me."
"Great guns! Can they do that? It ain't possible that----"
"Don't stand there talking, McMillan," put in another voice. "Matt has
told you what to do, so go ahead and do it. The scoundrels can use the
torpedo tube to get rid of Holcomb, and if Holcomb can't swim he'll
be in plenty of danger. Find your boat and get her off the end of the
pier. Lively, now!"
The speaker, as McMillan dashed away, came closer to Matt. It was
Archibald Townsend.
"You've had a rough experience, my lad," said Townsend. "How do you
feel?"
"A little dizzy," replied Matt.
He peered around him. They were alone under the electric light, all the
others on the wharf having gone with McMillan to help in the rescue of
Holcomb.
"I don't wonder," rejoined Townsend. "Being slammed through a torpedo
tube isn't a very pleasant experience."
"Do you call yourself Captain Nemo, Jr., when you're afloat in the
submarine, Mr. Townsend?" asked Matt.
"Jurgens has been talking with you, I see," went on Townsend. "Well,
he's given it to you pretty straight, scoundrel though he is and
with small regard for the truth. Yes, I'm Captain Nemo, Jr., of the
submarine _Grampus_. And Jurgens has stolen my boat and captured two of
my men! Losing the boat and that paper makes this a hard-luck story for
me."
"Can't you get back the boat in some way?" queried Matt, his excitement
growing as his brain cleared and strength returned to him.
"If Jurgens would bring the _Grampus_ to the surface I might have some
chance, but it's impossible if he keeps her below."
"She's lying right off the pier, just below the spot where she was
moored."
"She might as well be a thousand miles away so far as my ability to
recover her is concerned. My only hope just now is that the men working
for me, who were captured when Jurgens stole the boat, may be able to
turn on their captors and get the _Grampus_ back in their hands."
"Jurgens told me to tell you that he was off for the Bahamas, and that
you'll have to get up in the morning if you beat him."
A frown crossed Townsend's face.
"I knew very well that was where he was going," said the owner of the
_Grampus_.
"Had the paper he took from you," queried Matt, "anything to do with
his trip to the Bahamas?"
"Everything. I can hardly understand how the theft of that chart, and
of the boat, happened to come in so pat for Jurgens. But I'm going to
tell you more about the chart later, Matt. Just now you're as wet as a
drowned rat and must want to get back to your hotel and put on some dry
clothes."
"I want to make sure, before I leave the Inlet," returned Matt, "that
McMillan and the others succeed in rescuing Holcomb."
"This way, then," said Townsend, starting along the wharf; "I'll go
with you. After we see Holcomb landed, I'll go with you to the hotel
and broach a subject that just popped into my mind."
On reaching the end of the pier it was evident to Matt and Townsend
that Holcomb had just come to the surface. A sharp cry of command came
from some one in the rowboat and the craft could be seen moving swiftly
away toward the right.
Matt's keen eyes detected a black spot on the water, but before the
boat could reach it the spot had disappeared.
"He's gone down!" gasped Matt. "If Jurgens' scheme has caused Holcomb
to lose his life, the prospect will look pretty dark for him."
"Jurgens is bound to come to some bad end," declared Townsend. "I've
known him for two or three years, and he has always been crafty and
unscrupulous. But I don't think he'll ever hang for the drowning of
Holcomb. If my eyes show the situation clearly, Holcomb has just come
to the surface again--and those in the boat have got hold of him."
This was the way it appeared to Matt, and that both he and Townsend
were correct was presently proved by the rowboat turning back in the
direction of the wharf.
"Did you get him, McMillan?" called Townsend, as the boat came close.
"Yes," was the officer's response. "He's full of water, and
unconscious, but there's plenty of life in him. We'll have him all
right in a brace of shakes."
Holcomb, in nothing but his underclothes, was lifted to the pier. The
men in the boat climbed after him, and he was rolled and prodded until
he was able to open his eyes and speak.
"That's enough for us, Matt," said Townsend. "Let's go to your hotel.
The idea that darted into my mind a little while ago is growing on me,
and I'd like to put it up to you and hear what you think about it."
Matt, wet and uncomfortable, was also anxious to get to his hotel.
Not only that, but he was curious to learn what it was that Townsend,
otherwise Captain Nemo, Jr., had on his mind.