THE SUBMARINE HARBOR
It was not long after the almost miraculous escape of Elaine and myself
from the blowing up of the bridge on the shore road that Del Mar
returned from his mysterious mission which had, apparently, taken him
actually down to the bottom of the sea.
The panel in the wall of his library opened and in the still dripping
submarine suit, holding under his arm the weird helmet, Del Mar
entered. No sooner had he begun to remove his wet diving-suit than the
man who had signalled with the heliograph that we had found Del Mar's
message from "below," whatever that might mean, entered the house and
was announced by the valet.
"Let him come in immediately," ordered Del Mar, placing his suit in a
closet. Then to the man, as he entered, he said, "Well, what's new?"
"Quite a bit," returned the man, frowning still over Elaine's
accidental discovery of the under-water communication. "The Dodge girl
happened to pick up one of the tubes with a message just after you went
down. I tried to get her by blowing up the bridge, but it didn't work,
somehow."
"We'll have to silence her," remarked Del Mar angrily with a sinister
frown. "You stay here and wait for orders."
A moment later he made his way down to a private dock on his grounds
and jumped aboard a trim little speed boat moored there. He started the
motor and off the boat feathered in a cloud of spray.
It was only a moment by water before he reached the Dodge dock. There
he tied his boat and hurried up the dock.
. . . . . . .
Elaine and I arrived home without any further experiences after our
hairbreadth escape from the explosion at the bridge.
We were in doubt at first, however, just what to do about the
mysterious message which we had picked up in the harbor.
"Really, Walter," remarked Elaine, after we had considered the matter
for some time, "I think we ought to send that message to the government
at Washington."
Already she had seated herself at her desk and began to write, while I
examined the metal tube and the note again.
"There," she said at length, handing me the note she had written. "How
does that sound?"
I read it while she addressed the envelope. "Very good," I replied,
handing it back.
She folded it and shoved it into the envelope on which she had written:
Chief,
Secret Service,
Washington, D. C.
I was studying the address, wondering whether this was just the thing
to do, when Elaine decided the matter by energetically ringing the bell
for Jennings.
"Post that, Jennings, please," she directed.
The butler bowed just as the door-bell rang. He turned to go.
"Just a minute," I interrupted. "I think perhaps I'd better mail it
myself, after all."
He handed me the letter and went out.
"Yes, Walter," agreed Elaine, "that would be better. Register it, too."
"How do you do?" greeted a suave voice.
It was Del Mar. As he passed me to speak to Elaine, apparently by
accident, he knocked the letter from my hand.
"I beg your pardon," he apologized, quickly stooping and picking it up.
Though he managed to read the address, he maintained his composure and
handed the letter back to me. I started to go out, when Elaine called
to me.
"Excuse me just a moment, Mr. Del Mar?" she queried, accompanying me
out on the porch.
Already a saddle horse had been brought around for me.
"Perhaps you'd better put a special delivery stamp on it, too, Walter,"
she added, walking along with me. "And be very careful."
"I will," I promised, as I rode off.
Del Mar, alone, seized the opportunity to go over quietly to the
telephone. It was the work of only a moment to call up his bungalow
where the emissary who had placed the submarine bell was waiting for
orders. Quickly Del Mar whispered his instructions which the man took,
and hung up the receiver.
"I hope you'll pardon me," said Elaine, entering just as Del Mar left
the telephone. "Mr. Jameson was going into town and I had a number of
little things I wanted him to do. Won't you sit down?"
They chatted for a few moments, but Del Mar did not stay very long. He
excused himself shortly and Elaine bade him good-bye at the door as he
walked off, apparently, down the road I had taken.
. . . . . . .
Del Mar's emissary hurried from the bungalow and almost ran down the
road until he came to a spot where two men were hiding.
"Jameson is coming with a letter which the Dodge girl has written to
the Secret Service," he cried pointing excitedly up the road. "You've
got to get it, see?"
I was cantering along nicely down the road by the shore, when suddenly,
from behind some rocks and bushes, three men leaped out at me. One of
them seized the horse's bridle, while the other two quickly dragged me
out of the saddle.
It was very unexpected, but I had time enough to draw my gun and fire
once. I hit one of the men, too, in the arm, and he staggered back, the
blood spurting all over the road.
But before I could fire at the others, they knocked the gun from my
hand. Frightened, the horse turned and bolted, riderless.
Together, they dragged me off the road and into the thicket where I was
tied and gagged and laid on the ground while one of them bound up the
wounded arm of the man I had hit. It was not long before one of them
began searching me.
"Aha!" he growled, pulling the letter from my pocket and looking at it
with satisfaction. "Here it is."
He tore the letter open, throwing the envelope on the ground, and read
it.
"There, confound you," he muttered. "The government 'll never get that.
Come on, men. Bring him this way."
He shoved the letter into his pocket and led the way through the
underbrush, while the others half-dragged, half-pushed me along. We had
not gone very far before one of the three men, who appeared to be the
leader, paused.
"Take him to the hang-out," he ordered gruffly. "I'll have to report to
the Chief."
He disappeared down toward the shore of the harbor while the others
prodded me along.
. . . . . . .
Down near the Dodge dock, along the shore, walked a man wearing a
broad-brimmed hat and a plain suit of duck. His prim collar and tie
comported well with his smoked glasses. Instinctively one would have
called him "Professor", though whether naturalist, geologist, or plain
"bugologist", one would have had difficulty in determining.
He seemed, as a matter-of-fact, to be a naturalist, for he was
engrossed in picking up specimens. But he was not so much engrossed as
to fail to hear the approach of footsteps down the gravel walk from
Dodge Hall to the dock. He looked up in time to see Del Mar coming, and
quietly slipped into the shrubbery up on the shore.
On the dock, Del Mar stood for some minutes, waiting. Finally, along
the shore came another figure. It was the emissary to whom Del Mar had
telephoned and who had searched me. The naturalist drew back into his
hiding-place, peering out keenly.
"Well?" demanded Del Mar. "What luck?"
"We've got him," returned the man with brief satisfaction. "Here's the
letter she was sending to the Secret Service."
Del Mar seized the note which the man handed to him and read it
eagerly. "Good," he exclaimed. "That would have put an end to the whole
operations about here. Come on. Get into the boat."
For some reason best known to himself, the naturalist seemed to have
lost all interest in his specimens and to have a sudden curiosity about
Del Mar's affairs. As the motor-boat sped off, he came slowly and
cautiously out of his hiding-place and gazed fixedly at Del Mar.
No sooner had Del Mar's boat got a little distance out into the harbor
than the naturalist hurried down the Dodge dock. There was tied
Elaine's own fast little runabout. He jumped into it and started the
engine, following quickly in Del Mar's wake.
"Look," called the emissary to Del Mar, spying the Dodge boat with the
naturalist in it, skimming rapidly after them.
Del Mar strained his eyes back through his glass at the pursuing boat.
But the naturalist, in spite of his smoked glasses, seemed not to have
impaired his eyesight by his studies. He caught the glint of the sun on
the lens at Del Mar's eye and dropped down into the bottom of his own
boat where he was at least safe from scrutiny, if his boat were not.
Del Mar lowered his glass. "That's the Dodge boat," he said
thoughtfully. "I don't like the looks of that fellow. Give her more
speed."
. . . . . . .
Del Mar had not been gone long before Elaine decided to take a ride
herself. She ordered her horse around from the stables while she donned
her neat little riding-habit. A few minutes later, as the groom held
the horse, she mounted and rode away, choosing the road by which I had
gone, expecting to meet me on the return from town.
She was galloping along at a good clip when suddenly her horse shied at
something.
"Whoa, Buster," pacified Elaine.
But it was of no use. Buster still reared up.
"Why, what is the matter?" she asked. "What do you see?"
She looked down at the ground. There was a spot of blood in the dust.
Buster was one of those horses to whom the sight of blood is terrifying.
Elaine pulled up beside the road. There was a revolver lying in the
grass. She dismounted and picked it up. No sooner had she looked at it
than she discovered the initials "W. J." carved on the butt.
"Walter Jameson!" she exclaimed, realizing suddenly that it was mine.
"It's been fired, too!"
Her eye fell again on the blood spots. "Blood and--footprints--into the
brush!" she gasped in horror, following the trail. "What could have
happened to Walter?"
With the revolver, Elaine followed where the bushes were trampled down
until she came to the place where I had been bound. There she spied
some pieces of paper lying on the ground and picked them up.
She put them together. They were pieces of the envelope of the letter
which we had decided to send to Washington.
"Which way did they take him?" she asked, looking all about but
discovering no trail.
She was plainly at a loss what course to pursue.
"What would Craig do?" she asked herself.
Finding no answer, she stood thinking a moment, slowly tearing the
envelope to pieces. If she were to do anything at all, it must be done
quickly. Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. She threw the pieces
of paper into the air and let them blow away. It was unscientific
detection, perhaps, but the wind actually took them and carried them in
the direction in which the men had forced me to walk.
"That's it!" cried Elaine to herself. "I'll follow that direction."
. . . . . . .
Meanwhile, the men had hurried me off along a trail that led to the
foot of a cliff. Then the trail wound up the cliff. We climbed it until
we reached the top.
There in the rock was a rude stairway. I drew back. But one man drew a
gun and the other preceded me down. Along the steep stone steps cut out
in the face of the rock, they forced me.
Below, in a rift in the very wall of the cliff, was a cave in which
already were two more of Del Mar's men, talking in low tones, in the
dim light.
As we made our way down the breakneck stairway, the foremost of my
captors stepped on a large flat rock. As he did so, it gave way
slightly under his foot.
A light in the cave flashed up. Under the rock was a secret electric
connection which operated a lamp.
"Some one coming," muttered the two men, on guard instantly.
It was a somewhat precarious footing as we descended and for the moment
I was more concerned for my safety from a fall than anything else. Once
my foot did slip and a shower of pebbles and small pieces of rock
started down the face of the cliff.
As we passed down, the man behind me, still keeping me covered, raised
the flat stone on the top step. Carefully, he reset the connection of
the alarm rock, a series of metal points that bent under the weight of
a person and made a contact which signalled down in the cavern the
approach of any one who did not know the secret.
As he did so, the light in the cavern went out. "It's all right," said
one of the men down there, with a look of relief.
We now went down the perilous stairway until we came to the cave.
"I've got a prisoner--orders of the Chief," growled one of my captors,
thrusting me in roughly.
They forced me into a corner where they tied me again, hand and foot.
Then they began debating in low, sinister tones, what was to be done
with me next. Once in a while I could catch a word. Fear made my senses
hypersensitive.
They were arguing whether they should make away with me now or later!
Finally the leader rose. "It's three to one," I heard him mutter. "He
dies now."
He turned and took a menacing step toward me.
"Hands up!"
It was a shrill, firm voice that rang out at the mouth of the cave as a
figure cut off what little light there was.
. . . . . . .
Elaine passed along, hunting for the trail. Suddenly a shower of
pebbles came falling down from a cliff above her. Some of them hit her
and she looked up quickly.
There she could see me being led along by my captors. She hid in the
brush and watched. During all the operations of the descent of the rock
stairway and the resetting of the alarm, she continued to watch,
straining her eyes to see what they were doing.
As we entered the cave, she stepped out from her concealment and looked
sharply up at us, as we disappeared. Then she climbed the path up the
cliff until she came to the flight of stone steps leading downward
again.
Already she had seen the man behind me doing something with the stone
that formed the top step. She stooped down and examined the stone.
Carefully she raised it and looked underneath before stepping on it.
There she could see the electric connection. She set the stone aside
and looked again down the dangerous stairway.
It made her shudder. "I must get him," she murmured to herself. "Yes, I
must. Even now it may be too late."
With a supreme effort of determination she got herself together, drew
my gun which she had picked up, and started down the cliff, stepping
noiselessly.
At last Elaine came to the cave. She stood just aside from the door,
gun in hand, and listened, aghast.
Inside she could hear voices of four men, and they were arguing whether
they should kill me or not. It was four against one woman, but she did
not falter.
They had just decided to make away with me immediately and the leader
had turned toward me with the threat still on his lips. It was now or
never. Resolutely she took a step forward and into the cave.
"Hands up!" she demanded, firmly.
The thing was so unexpected in the security of their secret
hiding-place protected by the rock alarm that, before they knew it,
Elaine had them all lined up against the wall.
Keeping them carefully covered, she moved over toward me. She picked up
a knife that lay near-by and started to cut the ropes which held me.
As she did so, one of the men, with an oath, leaped forward to rush
her. But Elaine was not to be caught off her guard. Instantly she
fired. The man staggered back, and fell.
That cooled the ardor of the other three considerably, especially now
as I was free, too. While she held them up still, with their hands in
the air, I went through their pockets, taking out their weapons.
Then, still keeping them covered, we backed out of the cave. Backward
we made our way up the dangerous flight of steps again with guns
levelled at the cave entrance, Elaine going up first.
Once a head stuck itself out of the cave entrance. I fired instantly
and it jerked itself back in again just in time. That was the only
trouble we had, apparently.
Cautiously and slowly we made our way toward the top of the cliff.
. . . . . . .
One look backward from his motor-boat was enough for Del Mar. He must
evade that inquisitive naturalist. He turned to his man.
"Get out that apparatus," he ordered.
The man opened a locker and brought out the curious submarine rescue
helmet and suit. Del Mar took them up and began to put the suit on,
stooping down in the shelter of the boat so that his actions could not
be seen by the naturalist in the pursuing boat.
The naturalist was all this time peering ahead keenly at Del Mar's
boat, trying to make it out. He bent over and adjusted the engine to
get up more speed and the boat shot ahead faster.
By this time, Del Mar had put on the submarine apparatus, all except
the helmet, and was crouching low in the boat. Hastily, he rolled a
piece of canvas into the semblance of a body, put his coat and hat on
it and set it on the seat which he had occupied before.
Just then Del Mar's boat ran around the promontory where Wu Fang had
met the submarine that had brought Del Mar into the country and landed
him so strangely.
The boat slowed down under shelter of the rocks and Del Mar added a
pair of heavy lead-soled shoes to his outfit in order to weight himself
down. Finally he put on the helmet, let himself over the side of the
boat, and disappeared into the water.
His aide started the motor and the boat shot ahead again, with the
dummy still occupying Del Mar's seat. As the boat swung out and made a
wide sweeping curve away from the point at which Del Mar had gone
overboard, the naturalist in the Dodge boat came around the promontory
and saw it, changing his course accordingly, and gaining somewhat.
. . . . . . .
Del Mar sank, upright and rapidly, down in the shallow water to the
bottom. Once having his feet on something approaching firm ground, he
gazed about through the window-like eye of the helmet until he got his
bearings. Then he began to walk heavily along the bottom of the harbor,
over sand and rocks.
It was a strange walk that he took, half stumbling, slowly and
cumbersomely groping his way like a queer under-water animal.
If any one could have seen him, he would have noted that Del Mar was
going toward the base of a huge rocky cliff that jutted far out into
the harbor, where the water was deep, a dangerous point, avoided by
craft of all kinds. Far over his head the waves beat on the rocks
angrily. But down there, concealed beneath the surface of the harbor,
was a sort of huge arch of stone, through which a comparatively rapid
current ran as the tide ebbed and flowed.
Del Mar let himself be carried along with the current which was now
running in and thus with comparative ease made his way, still groping,
through the arch. Once under it and a few feet beyond, he deliberately
kicked off the leaden-soled shoes and, thus lightened, rose rapidly to
the surface of the water.
As he bobbed up, a strange sight met his eyes--not strange however, to
Del Mar. Above, the rocks formed a huge dome over the water which the
tides forced in and out through the secret entrance through which he
came. No other entrance, apparently, except that from the waters of the
harbor led to this peculiar den.
Lying quietly moored to the rocky piers lay three submarine boats.
Further back, on a ledge of rocks, blasted out, stood a little
building, a sort of office or headquarters. Near-by was a shed where
were kept gas and oil, supplies and ammunition, in fact everything that
a submarine might need.
This was the reason for Del Mar's presence in the neighborhood. It was
the secret submarine harbor of the foreign agents who were operating in
America!
Already a sentry, pacing up and down, had seen the bubbles in the water
that indicated that some one had come through the archway and was down
"below," as Del Mar and his men called it.
Gazing down the sentry saw the queer helmeted figure float up from the
bottom of the pool. He reached out and helped the figure clamber up out
of the water to the ledge on which he stood. Del Mar saluted, and the
sentry returned the secret salute, helping him remove the dripping
helmet and suit.
A moment later, in the queer little submarine office, Del Mar had
evidently planned to take up the nefarious secret work on which he was
engaged. Several men of a naval and military bearing were seated about
a table, already, studying maps and plans and documents of all
descriptions. They did not seem to belong to any nation in particular.
In fact their uniforms, if such they might be called, were of a
character to disguise their nationality. But that they were hostile to
the country under which they literally had their hidden retreat, of
that there could be no doubt.
How high Del Mar stood in their counsels could have been seen at a
glance from the instant deference exhibited at the mere mention of his
name by the sentry who entered with the submarine suit while Del Mar
got himself together after his remarkable trip.
The men at the council table rose and saluted as Del Mar himself
entered. He returned the salute and quietly made his way to the head of
the table where he took a seat, naturally.
"This is the area in which we must work first of all," he began,
drawing toward him a book and opening it. "And we must strike quickly,
for if they heed the advice in this book, it may be too late for us to
take advantage of their foolish unpreparedness."
It was a book entitled "Defenseless America", written by a great
American inventor, Hudson Maxim.
Del Mar turned the pages until he came to and pointed out a map. The
others gathered about him, leaning forward eagerly as he talked to
them. There, on the map, with a radius of some one hundred and seventy
miles, was drawn a big segment of a circle, with Peekskill, New York,
as a centre.
"That is the heart of America," said Del Mar, earnestly. "It embraces
New York, Boston, Philadelphia. But that is not the point. Here are the
great majority of the gun and armor factories, the powder and cartridge
works, together with the principal coal fields of Pennsylvania."
He brought his fist down decisively on the table. "If we hold this
section," he declared, "we practically hold America!"
Eagerly the other emissaries listened as Del Mar laid before them the
detailed facts which he was collecting, the greater mission than the
mere capture of Kennedy's wireless torpedo which had brought him into
the country. Detail after detail of their plans they discussed as they
worked out the gigantic scheme.
It was a war council of a secret advance guard of the enemies of
America!
. . . . . . .
Meanwhile, Del Mar's man in his boat, cutting a wide circle and
avoiding the Dodge boat carrying the naturalist, made his way across
the harbor until he came to the shore.
There he landed and proceeded up the beach to the foot of a rocky
cliff, where he turned and followed a trail up it to the top. It was
the same path already travelled by my captors with me and later
followed by Elaine.
As he came stealthily out from under cover, Del Mar's man gazed down
the stairway. He drew back at what he saw. Slowly he pulled a gun from
his pocket, watching down the steps with tense interest. There he could
see Elaine and myself wearily climbing toward the top, our backs toward
him, as we covered the men in the cave.
So surprised was he at what he saw that he forgot that his boat below
had been followed by the mysterious naturalist, who, the moment Del
Mar's man had landed, put on the last burst of speed and ran the Dodge
boat close to the spot where the aide had left Del Mar's.
A glance into the boat sufficed to tell the naturalist that the figure
in it was only a dummy. He did not pause, but followed the trail up the
hill, until he was close after the emissary ahead, going more slowly.
Only a few feet further along the cliff, the naturalist paused, too,
keeping well under cover, for the man was now just ahead of him. He
looked fixedly at him and saw him gaze down the cliff. Then he saw him
slowly draw a gun.
Who could be below? Quickly the naturalist's mind seemed to work. He
crouched down, as if ready to spring.
The emissary slowly raised his revolver and took careful aim at the
backs of Elaine and myself, as we came up the steps.
But before he could pull the trigger, the naturalist, more like one of
the wild animals which he studied than like a human being, sprang from
his concealment in the bushes and pounced on the man from behind,
seizing him firmly.
Over and over they rolled, struggling almost to the brink of the
precipice.
Elaine and I had got almost to the top of the flight of steps, when
suddenly we heard a shout above us and sounds of a terrific struggle.
We turned, to see two men, neither of whom we knew, fighting. One
seemed to be a professor of natural history from his dress and general
appearance. The other had a sinister nondescript look.
Nearer and nearer the edge of the cliff they rolled. We crouched closer
to the rocky wall, gazing up at the death grapple of the two. Who they
were we did not know but that one was fighting for and the other
against us we could readily see.
The more vicious of the two seemed to be forcing the naturalist slowly
back, when, with a superhuman effort, the naturalist braced himself.
His foot was actually on a small ledge of rock directly at the edge of
the cliff.
He swung around quickly and struck the other man. The vicious looking
man pitched headlong over the cliff.
We shrank back closer to the rock as the man hurtled through the air
only a few feet from us. Down below, we could hear him land with a
sickening thud.
Far over the edge Elaine leaned in a sort of fascination at the awful
sight. For a moment, I thought the very imp of the perverse had got
possession of her and that she herself would fall over. She brushed her
hand unsteadily over her eyes and staggered. I caught her just in time.
It was only an instant before the brave girl recovered control of
herself. Then, together, we started again to climb up.
As we did so the naturalist looked down and caught sight of us
approaching. Hastily he hid in the bushes. We reached the top of the
stairway and gazed about for the victor in the contest. To our surprise
he was gone.
"Come," I urged. "We had better get away, quickly."
As Elaine and I disappeared, the naturalist slowly emerged again from
the bushes and looked after us. Then he gave a hasty glance over the
edge of the cliff at the man, twisted and motionless, far below.
If we had looked back we might have seen the naturalist shake his head
in a manner strangely reminiscent as he turned and gazed again after us.