"WE'VE STRUCK A SUBMERGED WRECK!"
It was one of the most fascinating experiences that had ever befallen
Tom Dacre--this of sitting at his ease on the metal back of a
submarine monster, rushing through the water at a speed which Mr.
Ironsides declared was almost twenty-five miles an hour. The spray
flew back in the faces of the party on deck, whipping the keen blood
into their cheeks. The roar of the water, as the submarine parted it
in two mighty foam-crested waves, was like that of a waterfall.
"Better come inside now," said Mr. Ironsides, after a while, "I'm
going to try a burst of speed, and you might get drenched."
When they were all assembled in the conning tower, and pretty closely
packed, too, they were, in that narrow metal structure, Mr. Ironsides
pressed a button. Far off somewhere within the submarine, a faint
tinkle responded. It was a bell calling on old Sam in the engine
room to "let her out." Like a race horse when the barrier flies up,
the _Huron_ gave a sudden leap forward as her three propellers bit
into the water. A wave, like a tidal inundation, rose high on each
side of her bow. From the conning tower she appeared to be plowing
her way through a canyon whose walls were of water.
So suddenly had the burst of speed followed the signal to increase
her rate of progression, that the party were thrown one against the
other. Tom almost lost his feet, fetching up against the professor
with a bump that caused the man of science to ejaculate a most
undignified "Ouch!"
"Well, what do you think of it?" inquired Mr. Ironsides, who had
stood calmly at his steering lever with his lips compressed into a
line, and his hawk-like eyes peering keenly ahead during all the
confusion.
"Think!" exclaimed Tom, "I don't know what to think.
It's--well--marvelous doesn't describe it."
"So you are impressed, eh?" asked the inventor, in whose tones an
under current of satisfaction was plainly perceptible.
"Impressed! My dear sir, we are dumfounded!" gasped the professor.
"Wait," went on the inventor with a queer sort of smile, "you haven't
seen half yet."
"What's coming now?" wondered Tom. He was about to speak, but
instead a sudden cry forced itself to his lips. Looking down the
water-walled canyon through which they were rushing he became all at
once aware that the huge black hull of a lake steamer was looming
right ahead of them.
At the terrific pace they were making (the speed indicator recorded
thirty knots), it seemed impossible to avert disaster, swift, awful
and in evitable.
Tom glanced at the others. The professor's lips were parted with a
look of horror. Jeff was white and was gripping a hand rail so
tightly that the blood had left his knuckles. Rosewater had turned a
sickly gray under his black skin.
"Fo' de lan's sake!" he kept murmuring over and over.
Then Tom's gaze was turned toward the inventor. He stood at his
lever as immovable and unmoved as a figure carved from stone. A half
smile appeared frozen on his face.
They were very close to the black, wet sides of the steamer now.
Tom, looking upward, could see figures scurrying about her lofty
decks. They were gesticulating and pointing, and doubtless shouting
as they saw this little fury of the lakes bearing down on them. Even
in that thrilling moment Tom found himself wondering how it would
feel if the _Huron_ was engaged in war and the vessel they were
rushing upon was one of a fleet of Uncle Sam's enemies.
Try as he could to repress it, a shout would force itself to his
lips. So close were they to the steamer now, that one could plainly
see the rivets in her tall, black sides. Tom even noted her name,
_North Star_.
"Mr. Ironsides!" he cried, springing to the inventor's side.
Had the man gone suddenly mad? Did he wish to hurtle them all into
destruction?
The professor, too, sprang forward.
"Great heavens!" he cried, "we will be dashed into eternity. I
implore! I order! I insist----"
Swish-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!
A strange sound suddenly filled Tom's ears. The daylight was blotted
out. The lights flashed up all through the diving boat. The floor
tilted at a sharp angle, throwing the occupants of the conning tower
once more into a confused mass.
While they were still in a swirl of confusion, the inventor's lean,
claw-like hand shoved over a lever. The roaring noise ceased. The
_Huron_ resumed an even keel.
"We--we took a dive under that vessel?" gasped Tom, in a voice of
incredulity.
"We did," smiled Obadiah. "You must forgive me for scaring you, but
sometimes I feel like a schoolboy. I love to play tricks. I guess
you thought we were going to smash into that ship's side."
"Well, I didn't see how it could be avoided," said Tom, rather
shamefacedly, for the inventor's eyes were fixed on him with a
whimsical smile.
"My dear sir!" expostulated the professor, "I--we--of course, you
must understand I was in no sense alarmed----"
"Not any more than that time on the Omoo, when poor Jack and Sandy
played ghosts with green faces," grinned Tom, sotto voce.
"Ah done heard dem golden harps playin' _jes' as plain!_" confessed
Rosewater frankly.
"Well, as you see, the _Huron_ is under perfect control at all
times," said Mr. Ironsides. "We have dived under the keel of that
craft, and I imagine, caused those on board her to indulge in a
considerable amount of speculation as to whether they really saw us
or not."
He laughed in a care-free, boyish fashion that he had, and which made
it difficult for his companions to realize that their shipmate was
one of the brainiest men in the United States. They had merely had a
specimen of Mr. Ironsides' way of amusing himself.
"Shall we come to the surface?" he asked presently.
"I don't think it would be a bad idea," said the professor, in a
rather relieved tone, "this darkness is--is----"
"It kind of gets on one's nerves," said Tom, finishing the sentence
for him.
"Oh, you'd soon get over that," said Mr. Ironsides easily. "Of
course, it's natural, though. I'll never forget the first time I
went down in this craft. I was alone. I didn't want any one else to
risk his life. For a time I was in a state of delightful uncertainty
as to whether she'd rise again or not."
"It must have been mighty unpleasant," volunteered Tom.
"It was, I can assure you. But then I had the pleasure of feeling
that my boat had really dived, whether or not she would come up
again," said Mr. Ironsides, in as matter-of-fact a tone as could be
imagined.
"Queer sort of pleasure," thought Tom, glancing at the young inventor
curiously.
"I think it's the--the loneliness under the water that impresses
one," he said aloud, looking out of the conning tower window. Ahead
lay a black void. It was the same all about them. The _Huron_ was
encompassed by solid walls of water. It was a weird, uncanny
sensation, and all of the party seemed to fall under its spell.
"Ready!" cried the inventor sharply, pulling another lever.
It was as well he had uttered the warning, for at that instant the
prow of the _Huron_ inclined upward sharply. The same swishing sound
that had filled the submarine when they sank made itself noticed.
"It is the compressed air forcing the water out of the submergence
tanks," explained Mr. Ironsides. "What you heard when we sank was
the noise of their being filled by an emergency device, especially
designed for a quick dive."
"Which, in that case, was necessary," remarked Tom somewhat grimly.
All at once, while the submarine was still tilted sharply on her
upward course to the surface of the lake, a bell above Mr. Ironsides'
head tinkled sharply.
Coming, as it did, in the midst of their acute mental tension, it
jangled Tom's nerves sharply.
"It's the sensograph!" exclaimed Mr. Ironsides, with what Tom fancied
was one sharp flash of alarm.
"What does it mean?" began Tom. "Are we----"
"It means that we are in dangerous proximity to a submerged wreck!"
was the disquieting reply.
The words had hardly left Mr. Ironsides' lips before there was a
jarring crash.
The submarine quivered throughout her structure. Her swift motion
ceased as if she had been dealt a mortal blow.
As if he had been the victim of some ugly nightmare, Tom felt the
diving boat begin to sink. She seemed to be lying over on her
side--helpless beneath the waters of the lake.