THE FELLOW WHO SHOWED THE WHITE FLAG
Hal lay face down, and subjected to all the brutal fury of the
Frenchman's assault.
For a few seconds young Hastings did all in his power to fight back.
He was rapidly losing consciousness, however, and poor Jack lay unable
to lend as much as a finger's weight to the defense of his chum.
Then, with an oath in a foreign tongue, Gaston forced Hal's hands back,
snapping handcuffs on the engineer's wrists.
"Now, then, you young pest!" snarled Gaston, springing to his feet.
"Instead of one of you, I have two. But two shall give me no more
trouble than one. So you thought you could subdue me--_me_, did you?"
"I'd have thrashed you all right," muttered Hal, his senses returning
under the storm of taunts, "if my foot hadn't caught and thrown me.
You wouldn't dare to free my hands and let me to my feet, just to see
what would happen to you! You can't fight--unless all the advantage
is handed to you. You're a coward--not a fighter!"
"Careful, my young firebrand, or I'll teach you to be more polite to
me," sneered the Frenchman.
"Polite to you?" jeered Hal. "Polite to a spy--to a thief of nations!
Polite to a scoundrel who wants to steal the biggest secret of defense
that the United States Navy has!"
"Oh, we'll have your secret all right," announced the Frenchman, his
voice harsh with triumph. "We now have the two boys who know all about
the secrets of the Pollard boats!"
"This sounds so good, I reckon we'd better go right on in, Jerry," broke
in another voice.
Gaston started, as did the two submarine boys. Then the chauffeur
leaped to the mouth of the tunnel, only to draw back in dismay as a
big form emerged and loomed up before his startled vision.
The last comer wore the dress and insignia of a petty officer of the
United States Navy.
"Get back there!" warned this big apparition, waving a warning hand that
looked big enough to be a ham. "Nobody can't go out until we look into
this cargo."
After the big sailor a smaller one crawled out of the tunnel, rising
to his feet. Though he was smaller, this second sailor was not exactly
what could have been called a little man.
"Now, then," demanded the big sailor, "whose captain of this craft?"
Gaston, his eyes threatening to bulge from his head, had fallen back
against the wall opposite. His mouth was wide open, but he ventured
no answer.
"Stow my sidelights, Jerry," muttered the big sailor to his mate,
"but this is a queer looking hold! And two young men here who'd look
like officers of the service, if they wasn't so young."
"There never was anybody more delighted to you," broke fervently from
Jack Benson's. "You belong to the 'Waverly'?"
"Aye, aye, shipmate."
"Then you know the submarine, of course?"
"Aye, shipmate."
"I am the captain, and my friend the engineer, of that craft."
The big sailor's reply was an explosive yell.
"Don't let that snake-in-the-grass Frenchman get away, mates," begged
Jack, earnestly.
"Jerry, I reckon you can hold the only gang way that opens in on this
place, can't ye?" demanded the big sailor, turning to his sturdy looking
shipmate.
"I reckon, Hickey," said the other.
"This Frenchman is one of a gang of foreign spies, who have taken this
means to force us to furnish plans, drawings and all information about
the Pollard submarine boats," Jack continued. "You see how he has us
ironed down here."
"Got the keys to them irons, Frenchy?" demanded the big sailor, turning
upon Gaston.
"Yes," shivered the fellow, looking yellow with fright.
"Then turn our shipmates loose. Not too much delay about it, either,"
ordered Hickey.
Gaston obeyed as meekly as a lamb. There was a look in Hickey's steady
eyes which would lead one to suppose that the big sailor might be able
to use his strength in tearing a worthless human being apart.
"I hope you can understand all the thanks I feel like giving," remarked
the young submarine captain, as he rose to his feet, then offered his
hand to the big sailor.
"Oh, stow the thanks, anyway," laughed Hickey. "But Jerry and me ain't
in for what we thought might be coming to us."
"What was that?" asked Jack, with interest, turning back as he held out
his hand to Jerry.
"Why, ye see," nodded Hickey, after glancing down at the Frenchman, who
was now unlocking Hal's handcuffs, "I've got a home, a little plantation
about two miles back here, that I'm going to settle on for good one of
these days. The wife and kids live there. I'd been telling Jerry about
the craft and crew, and, as soon as we got shore leave, I took Jerry
in tow. We've seen up there two days, and to-night we started back
through the woods, 'cause our leave is up at six in the morning.
"Well, while we was coming through the woods we happened to stop a
minute. Then we see this Frenchy sneaking through the woods. We
wondered what was up. Then he vanished. We looked about, some
quiet-like, and on tiptoe, and then we saw this shipmate o' your'n
pry apart some bushes and head in this way. It looked queer to us."
"What did you think was up?" asked Jack.
"Why, as near as we could figger, this was some smuggler's hidin' place,
and we was figgerin' that perhaps Jerry and me would have five 'hundred
or a thousand dollars' reward to divvy up on. It wa'n't--but, anyway,
Jerry an' me are proper glad we stumbled in on this, just the same.
Now, mate, spin yer own yarn."
Hal was on his feet, by this time, and shaking hands with the two
rescuers. Gaston, at the furthest end of the little room, again cowered
against the wall, frightened and surly.
Jack Benson told as much of the story as he thought wise, though he felt
it best to leave out the names of M. Lemaire and Mlle. Nadiboff.
Next Hal described how, at the hotel, he had set himself to watching
Gaston; how he had shadowed the fellow.
"Did he come out here in an auto?" asked Jack.
"No; if he had, I couldn't have followed," Hal responded. "But this
place is barely four miles from the hotel. We can get back in an hour."
"What ye goin' to do with this feller, anyway?" demanded Hickey, jerking
a thumb in the direction of the frightened Gaston.
"Turn him over to the police," spoke Jack, promptly. "Even if we fail
to prove anything else Hal can help me fasten a charge of felonious
assault on the scoundrel. That will be enough to keep him locked up
for a couple of years to come."
Gaston heard this with a falling jaw, though he did not venture to say
anything.
"Well, Jerry and me are ready whenever you are, mates," hinted big
Hickey.
Jack nodded, and they filed out, Jerry coming last of all to make sure
that the Frenchman did not lag behind.
"Now, stand up, me bucko," ordered Hickey, seizing the chauffeur's
collar as that worthy crawled through the bushes at the outer end of
the tunnel. "Tryin' to steal submarine secrets, was ye? So some
foreign nation'd have the trick of blowing our battleships to pieces,
and the sailors on 'em? Jerry, wot d'ye reckon 'ud be about right
for Frenchy!"
"Pass him over to me and I'll see," grinned the smaller sailor.
Hickey grasped the frightened chauffeur in both hands, then fairly
hurled him at the smaller sailor. Jerry struck him once, with each
lively fist, then sent the fellow spinning back to Hickey. The latter
caught Gaston, tossing him up in the air, then striking him hard as the
fellow came down. This done, the chauffeur was again hurled back at
Jerry. For some time the two sailors kept this up. It was rough,
heavy punishment. Gaston bellowed like a sick bull under all the
strenuous handling. He must have ached in every bone in his body
when Hickey finally caught him, on a rebound, and held him off at
arm's length.
"Had about enough, Frenchy?" demanded the big sailor.
"Oh, mercy, monsieur!" panted the fellow wailingly. "I have had much
plenty to last me all my life."
"I wish I knew whether ye was lyin'," muttered Hickey, thoughtfully.
"I don't feel a bit tired, yet. Do you, Jerry?"
"Me? The exercise has warmed me up fine," grinned the smaller sailor.
"Mercy, messieurs, mercy!" wailed Gaston, sinking down to his shaking
knees, for he feared that these grim tormentors meant to kill him.
"I'd just as soon you'd let up on the scoundrel, if you don't mind,
mates," broke in Jack. "You see what a cur he is when he isn't having
it all his own way. I told him, back in the cave, that he'd be just
this sort of a fellow if the tables happened to be turned."
"Did ye say ye was going to turn him over to the officers?" asked
Hickey.
"Yes," spoke Jack Benson, decisively. "A fellow plying the trade of
this one needs to be locked up as long as possible."
"Oh, no, no, no, my brave Captain!" implored Gaston, wobbling around
upon his knees so as to face the submarine boy. "Not the jail! Not
the prison! Me! I have always been as free as the birds of the air.
I would die in prison."
"I can't see where much loss will come in if you do," retorted Jack,
coldly. "Hal, you brought the handcuffs out with you?"
He held up both pairs.
"No, no, no!" pleaded Gaston, almost tearfully. "Not such disgrace
as that!"
"Let me have a pair of the bracelets," requested Hickey, holding out
one of his hands. "Now, my tine bird, let me clip yer wings."
Gaston submitted meekly enough, then was dragged to his feet.
While Hal had brought out the lantern and the handcuffs, famished,
thirst-tormented Jack Benson had looked after the water bottle and the
sandwiches. Now, as all hands trudged along toward the beach the
young skipper ate and drank to his full content.
Arrived in town, they roused a cottager. From him they learned where
to find the police station. Gaston was thrown into a cell, and Jack
entered formal complaint against the fellow.
Jacob Farnum still awake, was found at the hotel. When Hickey and Jerry
returned aboard the gunboat neither felt so sorry about not having
located a smuggler's camp in full operation. Jacob Farnum had taken
the sailor pair apart, presenting each with a hundred-dollar bill.