BRAINS AND GRIT--A COMBINATION HARD TO BEAT.
Tom's heart beat like a trip-hammer. Discovery and failure of his
enterprise seemed almost inevitable. But he retained presence of
mind enough to slip behind the big steam windlass while the man
advanced.
The fellow was one of those left to guard the tug, and was more
vigilant than Tom had supposed would be the case, judging by the
conversation he had overheard. He had come forward to see that all
was well.
Apparently he had not seen Tom, thanks to the darkness and the fact
that he had just emerged from a lighted cabin. He walked up to the
scuttle, however, and rapped on it with his knuckles in much the same
way that Tom had done.
The boy's blood almost froze in his veins, as, in response to the
man's rappings, he heard Mr. Ironsides' voice come from below.
"Hurry up, Tom. Get me out of here, quick! I can't stand it much
longer."
"Gee whiz, the poor chap's gone crazy," muttered the man, to Tom's
intense relief. "Well, I've no orders, except to keep him in there,
crazy or not, so I'll just see that the fastenings are all right, and
then go back to the game."
He drew a hatchet from his belt, and gave the nails that held the
loose hasp a few blows with it. As he was doing this, clumsily
enough in the darkness, he hit his thumb a hard blow. Tom heard an
exclamation and a volley of strong language.
"Confound it," exclaimed the man, flinging the hatchet from him in a
rage, "that's the second time in a week I pounded that thumb. Bad
luck to it."
He strode off toward the stern once more, leaving Tom in a state of
joy that may be imagined, for, in the flung hatchet, Tom had just the
very tool he wanted to liberate Mr. Ironsides.
Guessing that the man would not be back for some time, now that he
had, as he thought, made certain that all was secure, Tom lost no
time in finding the hatchet and went to work on the hasp. As he had
suspected, it didn't take very long to work it loose. Then, placing
the blade of his implement under it, he gave it a good wrench. Out
came the hasp, as easily as if it had been fastened in cheese instead
of solid wood.
The next instant Mr. Ironsides was by Tom's side, and the two were
shaking hands warmly by the side of the opened scuttle. It was no
time for the interchange of words, but Tom told him swiftly just what
had happened. The inventor's praise of the brave, resourceful lad
was warmer than ever.
Mr. Ironsides, who had some changes of apparel on board his craft,
rapidly divested himself of his clothes, as Tom had done.
"I'll leave them behind as souvenirs," he said, giving the pile of
garments a shove with his foot.
This done, they both slipped silently over the bow, and dropped into
the water. As they did so, a rumble of thunder was heard, and a
vivid flash of forked lightning split the sky.
"We're in for a storm, all right," commented Tom.
"So much the better," said the inventor, as they swam side by side
toward the submarine, "the worst storm can't hurt the _Huron_. All I
have to do is to sink a few feet, and the waves can rage as they
like. They don't bother her."
Excessive caution was necessary as they neared the submarine. The
two sentinels might still be asleep, and then, again, the noise of
the approaching storm might have awakened them. In any event, the
two adventurers made no more noise than was unavoidable as they
neared the side of the diving craft.
They swam round to the bow of the _Huron_ and clambered cautiously
out of the water. Tom wished that he had told Sam to turn out the
lights when he left the craft, for the rays from the conning tower
shone out brightly, illuminating the decks with a radiance almost
like day.
But the light showed them one thing, at least. This was that the two
sentries were still sound asleep, doubtless never imagining for a
moment that there was the slightest chance of those on board the
diving craft receiving help. Indeed, if it had not been for Tom's
ingenuity and courage, this would have been the case.
Noiselessly, almost, the two adventurers made for the conning tower.
They crept silently along over the deck in their bare feet and gained
the helmet-like structure without a hitch occurring.
"Now to open up our prison," whispered Tom, as Mr. Ironsides examined
the bolt by which Captain Rangler had imprisoned them.
It was furnished with a lock, but, luckily, Captain Rangler had had
no key to fit it. The lock, in fact, was not needed, so long as the
inmates of the submarine were within. But now Mr. Ironsides slid
back the bolt without difficulty and opened the hatch.
He had just opened it, and was about to step within, when one of the
sentries awakened. At the same instant came a flash of lightning.
It showed the man two white-clad figures, hovering about the conning
tower.
A sudden access of superstitious terror seized him. So far as he
knew, there was no possible way of emerging from the conning tower.
These two white figures, then, must be beings from another world.
With a wild yell he flung himself into the water, and began swimming
with might and main for the tug. His shouts aroused his companion.
He, however, was cast in another mold. He realized almost instantly
that an escape had been effected in some manner. Raising his rifle,
he began firing at the two figures.
[Illustration: Raising his rifle, he began firing at the two figures.]
"Duck, Tom," ordered Mr. Ironsides, "those bullets can't pierce the
metal."
Bang! bang! bang! bang! bang!
The weapon the sentry was using was an automatic. The bullets flew
in a constant stream. Tom counted ten. He knew the type of weapon,
and knew, too, that when his magazine was exhausted the sentry would
have to refill it.
"Now, then," he cried to Mr. Ironsides. "Now is our chance to grab
him."
The two darted forward across the deck, and, before the sentry could
reload, they were upon him. Tom was in no mood to be merciful.
"Can you swim?" he demanded of the fellow, who gave in without a
struggle.
"Y-y-y-y-yes!" responded the other, with chattering teeth.
"Then over you go!" cried Mr. Ironsides. One! Two! Three!
Overboard went that sentry with a resounding splash. The manner in
which he struck out for the tug convinced Tom, rather to his relief,
that the man was in no danger of drowning.
All this had occurred in such a short time that those below in the
cabin had only arrived on deck in time to see the finale.
"Oh, Tom, is it really you?" cried Jeff, rushing forward and wringing
Tom's hand warmly.
"Guess it is," laughed the boy; "and, best of all, here's Mr.
Ironsides."
"You have succeeded beyond my wildest expectations," cried the
professor. "It's wonderful, wonderful!"
But in the midst of the congratulations and joyous reunion, the
bushes on shore suddenly began to spit fire. A volley also came from
the tug. The first sentry had reached the vessel and reported what
had occurred, and the two men left to guard Mr. Ironsides were not
long in discovering that their bird had flown.
As for the fire from the shore, it came from Captain Rangler and the
others in the tower, who had guessed instantly, when the sentry
opened fire, that something had happened to free their prisoners.
Bullets spattered on the water about them, and pinged on the metal
deck of the _Huron_.
"Wow! This is a regular bee-hive!" exclaimed Mr. Ironsides.
"We must cast off without delay," cried Tom. "They have taken the
alarm with a vengeance."
Suddenly, from the shore, the brilliant light of a Bengal torch
flooded the whole scene with a bright blue glare.
Tom darted forward and cast off the towing ropes, which still
attached the submarine to the tug. In the meantime, Sam had the
engines started once more.
The lad's post, while he was casting off the towline, was not a bed
of roses. Although he crouched behind the metal bits, he could hear
the rattle of lead all about him. Having cast off the ropes, there
was nothing for him to do but to await his chance to regain the
conning tower. The others had, by this time, sought its shelter as
there was no use in risking death in that hailstorm of bullets. Mr.
Ironsides' first act had been to lower the steel bullet-proof shades,
specially designed for protecting the conning tower lenses in just
such an emergency. These "shades" had slits pierced in them so that
the steersman could see out without much danger of being hit, even in
the hottest fire.
Suddenly the Bengal light died down. Darkness ensued for an instant
while those on shore lighted another one. Under cover of the
blackness, Tom darted for the conning tower. Mr. Ironsides was at
the wheel, the engines were humming, everything was in readiness for
an instant start. As Tom dashed into the conning tower, and the
water-tight door was closed, another Bengal light was aflame. By its
light the submarine became a hotter target than ever.
The bullets spattering against the metal skin of the craft sounded
like hail on a tin roof. But, thanks to the secret alloy in the
metal of which the _Huron_ was constructed, they were deflected from
her, hardly leaving a scratch to show where they had struck.
"Ready?" yelled Mr. Ironsides down the speaking tube to Sam in the
engine room.
"Ready, sir!" bellowed back the engineer of the _Huron_.
"Then brace yourselves for a dive," commanded the inventor.
A mighty, hissing sound ensued, as the tanks filled. The _Huron_
dipped by the nose, and sank gradually, as the inventor, once below
the surface, didn't wish to risk a collision with the bottom, and he
did not know how much water they had off shore.
After the exciting scenes through which they had just passed, the
depths seemed calm and peaceful and soothing to the nerves. Obadiah
switched on the searchlight and raised the bullet-proof "shades," and
they were able to look out once more at the glass-green vastness
about them.
It was not till then that old Sam came up from below.
"Beg pardon, sir," said he to Mr. Ironsides, "but I know that there
island, sir."
"So it was an island, eh?" said Mr. Ironsides. "What island was it,
Sam?"
"Castle Rock Island!" burst out Tom.
"Yes, sir; that was it, for a fact," said old Sam. "I recognized it
by the ruined tower, when the light flared up and showed it."
"Then that is the place where Captain Rangler and that outfit make
their headquarters!" exclaimed the professor.
"Yes, and I'll bet a doughnut that that is where Jack and Sandy are
confined!" burst out Tom, with blazing eyes.
"Mr. Ironsides, we cannot run off and leave them like this!" he
continued in an impassioned way.
"I agree with you, Tom. But what are we to do?"
"Hang about till daylight, and then cruise round the island. We may
see some signs of them. Judging from what I overheard on the tug,
there is a bare chance they may have escaped."
"Tom Dacre, you are a brave lad," said the inventor, for the second
time that night; "and, better still, you mix brains with your grit.
That's a combination that's hard to beat in man or boy."