THE STRANGEST VESSEL ON THE LAKES.
The newcomers found themselves in a cylindrical-shaped chamber,
possibly twenty feet long by twelve feet or so at its widest part.
The rivet-studded walls showed that the structure was of metal, but
comfortable leather-covered divans were placed along each side,
inviting to rest and meditation. Obadiah Ironsides invited his
guests to sit on these while he explained his craft.
After he had explained how it was driven by gasoline engines on the
surface, and by electrical motors when under water, he conducted them
into the engine room. Except for the electrical driving machinery it
did not differ radically from that of the luckless _Sea Ranger_. A
striking feature of the machinery, though, was the huge pumps for
exhausting the "sinking tanks" of water when the operator of the
craft wished to rise, and the appliances for supplying fresh air in
quantities when submerged, by the expedient of sucking out the
exhausted atmosphere.
"How long could you keep submerged?" inquired Tom.
"For two days, if necessary. I have accomplished that already.
Possibly, at a pinch, that time might be lengthened considerably,"
was the response.
A visit to the forward compartment then followed. This was the space
devoted to the torpedo discharging machinery, for, as Obadiah had
explained, the primary purpose of the _Huron_ was for warfare. And a
formidable craft for that purpose she appeared to be. The interior
of the conning tower was next inspected. It was a place of
mysterious levers, and wheels of glittering brass and steel. Like
the rest of the craft it was lighted by electricity.
On the walls were gauges to show submergence, speed, air-pressure and
several others, which were far too technical in their purposes to
explain here. A comfortable seat was provided for the steersman, who
could control the unique steering apparatus by one hand by means of a
lever, or, in case of necessity, by pedals--like those of an
automobile. This left his hands free to attend to torpedo
discharging and so on.
"In designing this craft," said Obadiah Ironsides, "it has been my
aim to provide a craft that was of positively 'one-man control.' It
was to try out how far this was feasible that I took my lone trip
under the lake to-night."
"And did you find your craft handled all right?" inquired Tom.
"I did till I bumped your vessel on rising," said Obadiah Ironsides,
with a whimsical grimace.
"Is it not possible to provide some sort of apparatus which will give
you warning of the vicinity of other craft?" asked the professor, who
had listened and observed with the deepest attention while this
singular hermit of the underwater talked.
"It is," rejoined Mr. Ironsides; "in fact, I have been experimenting
with one which is in readiness to be affixed to the _Huron_. It is
similar in its workings to those used by Atlantic liners in feeling
their way through a fog."
"Then your submarine is complete?" asked Tom.
"Yes. In two weeks' time I am going on a trip through the great
lakes with her, and then I shall have her shipped to attend the
government tests at Newport News."
"One question more," put in the professor, "you have chosen a very
out-of-the-way place to conduct your experiments."
"For a very obvious reason," said Obadiah Ironsides, with one of his
pleasant laughs, "you must know that every navy in the world is
experimenting with submarines. They are, in conjunction with torpedo
destroyers, the war vessel of the future. The Russo-Japanese war
proved that. Now, then, the competition is naturally keen among
inventors to produce the best type of submarine. Inventors, as a
class, are a splendid, upright set of men; but, I regret to say, that
all are not so. Some of them are unscrupulous to a degree. It was
to escape the surveillance of spies of a rival submarine concern that
I buried myself up here. And there you have it," he concluded with a
laugh, "unless, indeed, you wish to know whence I get my funds?"
Tom and the professor held up their hands in protest.
"My dear sir," said the professor.
"Not at all," laughed Obadiah. "My father was the well-known maker
of iridium steel. He amassed a fortune in its manufacture. I
learned my business in his foundry. When he died he left me his
large fortune, which I devoted to experimental work. My dear mother
soon followed him to the grave, and then, having only my work left to
live for, I plunged into it with a vengeance. Possibly my ample
funds have helped me to go further than some inventors with more
ability but less capital," he concluded modestly. "So," he broke off
with a laugh, "there you have the autobiography of Obadiah Ironsides,
at your service. And now, as it is late, and I'm sure you are tired,
we will retire."
"Have you a boat to get ashore?" asked Tom, wondering when the
resources of this wonderful craft would be exhausted.
"I have one. A water-tight craft bolted to the deck. She is reached
by a trap in the ceiling of this cabin. But unless you insist upon
going ashore I'll show you that feature of the _Huron_ some other
time. But to my mind, the order of the day--or, rather, night--is
bed."
"Beds?" inquired Tom, looking about him as if he rather expected to
see some spring from the floor of this wonderful craft.
The professor merely tried to look unamazed, as became his dignity,
while Jeff and Rosewater were both frankly overcome and speechless by
the wonders they had beheld.
"I haven't advanced quite as far as that yet," laughed Obadiah,
noting Tom's glance at the floor, and reading it aright; "but those
divans can be converted into very comfortable Pullman couches, and
opposite the galley, which you recollect is between the engine room
and this apartment, is a bathroom and shower, and all the fittings
just as you would find it in a hotel."
"Say, is there anything left out on this wonderful craft?" gasped Tom
in amazement.
"Yes, one thing," laughed Obadiah, "a contract with Uncle Sam!"
Levers and springs controlled the couches, which were reversible. On
the underside, as they turned over, were discovered comfortable
mattresses, snowy sheets and neat counterpanes. They lost no time in
turning in, Tom having an indistinct recollection of hearing
Rosewater murmur, as he sank off to sleep:
"Ef dis yar tea kittle sinks in de night ah don' cahr. Ah'se gwine
ter sleep till dat Gabriel blows his horn."
It was broad daylight when Tom awoke. This fact was evidenced by the
sunlight streaming cheerily through the open hatchway leading to the
deck. An appetizing aroma of frizzling ham and eggs, and the added
savor of hot coffee, filled the air. It proceeded from the galley
where Obadiah had already set Rosewater to work.
Tom leaped up and made for the bathroom. He reveled in the shower,
and, having aroused the professor and Jeff, he fell to his dressing
with a feeling of renewed vigor. In daylight, even inside this steel
shell, things looked much brighter than they had during the gloom and
uncertainty of the night. He had hardly completed his dressing when
Obadiah himself appeared, accompanied by an elderly man of benign
appearance.
"This is Sam Wrenchly, my foreman," he explained. "He has looked
over the damage to the _Sea Ranger_ and informs me that it will take
two days to repair her."
"Two days!"
Tom could not repress a groan. He sank down on the edge of the bunk
and buried his head in his hands. What might not happen to his
brother and his chum in two days? It was a crushing blow, and Tom
could not be blamed for feeling "knocked out" for an instant.
Obadiah placed a hand kindly on the lad's shoulders.
"Come, cheer up, Tom," he said softly, "I have news for you. Sam
here knows something of this Captain Rangler and his haunts."
Tom looked up, alert in an instant. The old man nodded his head
sagely, and smiled under his gray beard.
"Yes, Rangler and I met many years ago," he said; "but I have
occasionally heard of him since."
"And you think you know where he has taken my brother Jack and my
chum Sandy?" asked Tom.
"I think so," said the old man calmly. "Did you ever hear tell of
Castle Rock Island?"