MR. IRONSIDES' SUBMARINE--HURON.
"Who are you, anyhow?" shouted the professor, peering forward into
the darkness that lay about them. There was no light ahead or in any
other direction to indicate the location of the craft that had hit
them.
"Ya-as, sah, dawggone yo' alls!" bellowed Rosewater aggressively,
"who am you? Das wha' we wan' ter be infummed upon."
"Hope I haven't injured you," came a pleasant voice once more, "I'm
awfully sorry. But as I was coming up--
"Coming up?" exclaimed Tom, who had by this time rejoined the party
on the bridge, having stopped the engine, "coming up? What do you
mean?"
"Why, what I say. As I was coming up from the bottom of the lake
I----"
"Say, have we collided with a floating lunatic asylum?" howled Jeff.
"Well," came back the amused voice, "folks have said I was crazy, but
I guess my trial trip will show that there was some method in my
madness. The submarine _Huron_ is as complete a success as I could
wish. And----"
"A submarine!" yelled Jeff. "Howling mud-turtles! We've hit a
submarine!"
"I'm afraid it was I who hit you," came back the voice out of the
darkness. "I find one of my top plates is dented, and----"
"Fo! de lub ob goodness! De cabin am full ob water!"
Rosewater, who had been making an investigation, came flying to the
bridge.
"Good gracious, that means we are leaking badly," cried Tom, "what
will happen next on this unlucky cruise! Jeff, wait here. I'm off
to see."
Tom found, as Rosewater had said, that there was indeed water in the
cabin,--about a foot of it. It seemed to be gaining fast. But,
after a rapid survey of the situation, Tom became convinced that the
leak was in the bow, and that the water was running aft because of
the lower situation of that part of his craft.
This conclusion reached, he hastened on deck. By this time he found
that the mysterious submarine, of which they had not yet had a view,
was alongside. Her skipper, who had explained that his name was
Obadiah Ironsides, was shouting something up to Jeff just as Tom
appeared on the scene.
"There's a big, jagged hole in your bow."
Tom peered over and speedily saw that this was so.
"Get canvas and place over the hole," shouted up Obadiah Ironsides,
who seemed to know just what to do. "I can fix it in position from
down here. My ventilating pipes must have ripped that hole. Yes, I
see now they are bent."
His voice held a note of genuine regret, which every one on board the
_Sea Ranger_ was by far too busy to notice, however. Under Tom's
leadership, some spare sails, for use on the craft's auxiliary masts,
were hastily thrown over the side. The suction of the water drew
them into the hole, stopping it temporarily. But the _Sea Ranger_
was low in the water, and it was plain that she could not proceed on
her voyage without repairs being made. These might prove to be a
lengthy operation.
Tom was almost in despair.
"For this accident to happen at this time above all others!" he cried
bitterly.
"I don't mind telling you," came Obadiah's voice out of the darkness
overside, "that if you had kept on your course you'd have been
wrecked anyhow. A big ridge of rocks lies about a mile ahead of you.
How did you come to be way off here out of the course of ships going
through the Straits?"
"We didn't know we were off our course," explained Tom. "We were in
pursuit of a band of rascals. Night overtook us, but we risked
keeping on, for it was urgent that we should not get too far behind
them."
"What's this? What's this?" came Obadiah's voice. "My dear young
man, I'm sorry indeed that I was the cause of stopping you, although,
as I said, disaster must have overtaken you if you had kept on."
"I suppose nothing is so bad that it mightn't be worse," muttered
Jeff.
"Tell you what," came Obadiah's voice suddenly, "the town of
Brownhaven, where I hail from, isn't far from here. You are not too
damaged to proceed under your own power, are you?"
"I don't think so," rejoined Tom.
"Then this is my plan: I'll go ahead--on the surface, of
course--showing a light to guide you. You can follow along and
before two hours are over you'll be at a shipyard in Brownhaven,
where I can promise you quick repairs. I'm safe in saying this,
because I own the yard. In fact, I erected it to build my
submarines, of which I hope to sell several to the government."
"It's a private yard, then?" said Tom.
"Yes; but, as the accident was my fault in a way, I feel that it is
only fair for me to do your repairing free of charge."
"Good fo' yo', Mister Obadiah!" hailed the voice of Rosewater, "and
git us asho' as quick as poss'bul, please, fo' ah is dyin' fo' a
sight ob dat dar terrier firma."
A few minutes later, with a light showing from the submarine ahead,
the crippled _Sea Ranger_ began to crawl slowly along. It was a
pitiful travesty of her former brisk pace, and Tom could almost have
wept. However, there was really no one to blame, he felt, and this
Obadiah Ironsides, whoever he was, appeared to be doing all he could
to repair the mischief he had unwittingly done.
In spite of the submarine man's promise, it was considerably more
than two hours before a row of scattered lights, which Tom presumed
marked Brownhaven, came into view. The channel, too, was intricate,
and altogether it was well past midnight when the _Sea Ranger_ was
anchored off a dry-dock, which Obadiah had fitted up in his boat yard.
"Now," said he, coming alongside in his craft, "if you fellows will
come on board I'll take you ashore. I'll promise you that repair
work will be begun the first thing in the morning. From what I could
see of the injury it ought not to take more than a few hours."
The ship's company of the unfortunate _Sea Ranger_ descended, by
means of a sea ladder, to the submarine, whose outlines could only be
seen dimly. As Tom's feet struck the deck plates of the strange
craft, they gave out a hollow, metallic ring.
"Steel, with an aluminum alloy, which is my secret," said the
inventor.
"But come below, gentlemen; come below. If this is your first visit
to a submarine you may find much to interest you."
He led the way to a sort of helmet-shaped projection, pierced with
eye-holes and screened with very thick glass, which stood amidships.
He leaned down as he reached this, and pulled a lever. Instantly a
door slid back with a clanging sound, and a stream of soft light
poured up from below. As it fell on Obadiah Ironsides' face, Tom
gave a cry of astonishment. He had not had a good view of the
inventor before--the light by which they had followed the submarine
not revealing his features fully.
Tom's exclamation, not in accord with true politeness, was called
forth by the fact that Obadiah Ironsides, whose name and whose manner
both would have led one to suppose him an aged man, was a mere youth.
In fact, he didn't look much older than Tom. He wore a suit of some
sort of black leather, like an automobilist's. His hair curled
crisply above a high, white forehead, and his features, which were
regular, although strong and rugged, were lit up by a pair of dancing
blue eyes.
They danced more merrily than ever as he gazed at Tom's astonished
face and the amazed looks of the rest of the "castaway crew."
"Thought Obadiah Ironsides was a regular old fogy, eh?" he laughed,
"Well, he's not. Not a bit of it. But come below and see what you
think of my little craft."
So saying, he plunged into the opening in the helmet-shaped conning
tower, and was followed by the others. Inside the helmet was a steel
stairway by which they descended into surroundings stranger than any
of them had ever encountered.