THE RADIO DETECTIVES UNDER THE SEA
BY
A. HYATT VERRILL
AUTHOR OF “THE RADIO DETECTIVES”,
“THE RADIO DETECTIVES SOUTHWARD BOUND,”
“THE RADIO DETECTIVES IN THE JUNGLE,”
“THE DEEP SEA HUNTERS,” ETC.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK :: 1922 :: LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
CONTENTS
I. In the Bahamas
II. A Mysterious Disappearance
III. Surprises
IV. Radio Magic
V. A Narrow Escape
VI. On the Trail of the Submarine
VII. The Fight With the Octopus
VIII. Lost
IX. Prisoners
X. Radio to the Rescue
XI. The Devil Dancers
XII. Smernoff Pays His Debt
XIII. The Tramp
THE RADIO DETECTIVES UNDER THE SEA
CHAPTER I
IN THE BAHAMAS
“Oh, look, Tom! There’s land!” cried Frank Putney as, coming on deck
one beautiful morning, he glanced across the shimmering sea and saw a
low cloud-like speck upon the horizon ahead.
“Hurrah! it must be the Bahamas,” exclaimed Tom Pauling, as he saw the
first bit of land they had sighted since leaving New York three days
previously. “Say, isn’t it bully to see land again? And isn’t this
water wonderful?”
To the two boys, the short sea trip had been a constant source of
interest, for while they had both been on ocean-going steamships
before and Frank had crossed the Atlantic, yet neither had ever
visited the tropics. The glistening flying fish which had skittered
like miniature sea-planes from under the plunging bows of the ship had
filled them with delight; they had fished up bits of the floating
yellow sargassum or Gulf Weed and had examined with fascination the
innumerable strange crabs, fishes and other creatures that made it
their home; they had watched porpoises as they played about the ship
and they had even caught a brief glimpse of a sperm whale.
The wonderfully rich indigo-blue water of the Gulf Stream was a
revelation to them and now that they were rapidly approaching the
outlying cays of the Bahamas, with the surrounding water malachite and
turquoise, emerald and sapphire with patches of dazzling purple and
streaks of azure they could scarcely believe it real.
“It doesn’t look like water at all,” declared Tom, as his father
joined them.
“It looks like—well, like one of those futurist paintings or as if
some one had spilled a lot of the brightest blue and green paint he
could find and had slapped on a lot of purple for good measure:”
Mr. Pauling laughed. “That’s accurate if not poetical,” he replied,
“and you’ll find, when you go ashore, that the imaginary man with the
paint pot did not stop at the water. The land is just as gaudy and
incredibly bright as the sea.”
“Is that Nassau ahead?” asked Tom.
“No, that’s a small cay,” replied one of the officers who had drawn
near the little group, “Egg Cay they call it. We’ll raise Rose Cay
next and should sight New Providence and Nassau about two o’clock.
Pretty, isn’t it?”
So intensely interested and excited were the two boys that they could
scarcely wait to eat their breakfast before they again rushed on deck
to find the little islet close to the ship, its cream-colored beaches
and purplish-gray coral rocks clear and distinct above the marvelously
tinted water edged by a thread of surf and with a few straggling palm
trees nodding above the low, dull-green bush which covered the cay.
But to the boys, there were more reasons for being interested and
excited than the mere fact that they were gazing for the first time at
a tropical island or were about to visit a strange land. They were on
an exciting and strange trip, a remarkable mission for two boys and
one which promised an abundance of adventure.
Like so many boys, they had become interested in radio and during
their experiments with various sets had heard peculiar messages from
some unidentified speaker. With their curiosity aroused, they had
tried, merely for the fun of the thing, to locate the sending station
by means of loop aerials or radio compasses.
Having decided that the voice came from a certain block on the East
Side of New York, they had reported their discovery to Mr. Henderson,
a federal employee and an associate of Tom’s father, for their boyish
imaginations had been fired with the idea that the speaker was a
lawbreaker associated with a gang of rum smugglers whom Mr. Pauling
was endeavoring to run down. But when a search of the block by Mr.
Henderson’s men failed to reveal any trace of a radio outfit the boys
had lost interest in the matter.
Then, when Mr. Pauling had returned from a mission to the Bahamas and
Cuba, he had told the boys of a young man named Rawlins who had
devised a remarkable type of diving suit which required no life line
or air hose, the oxygen for the diver to breathe being produced by
means of certain chemicals. Mr. Pauling had mentioned that the
inventor of the suit had stated that its one fault was that the user
could not communicate with those on a ship or on shore and Tom; his
mind ever on his favorite hobby, had suggested that radio might be
used. Later, when Rawlins met the boys in New York and Tom told him
his ideas, the diver fell in with the scheme and declared that he
believed it would be feasible to make a radio telephone apparatus
which could be used under water.
Fitting up his father’s dock on the East River front as a workshop and
laboratory, Rawlins and the boys worked diligently at Tom’s invention
and at last succeeded in devising a radio set with which the diver
could talk freely and easily with people on shore or with others under
the sea.
While trying out the device Tom and Rawlins discovered two other
divers whose actions were suspicious, and watching them, were amazed
to see the men enter an old disused sewer. Following them into the
sewer Tom and his companion were startled at hearing a conversation in
some foreign tongue and Rawlins insisted it came from the other divers
and that they too possessed undersea radio telephones. Hiding in the
shadows the two saw the strangers standing under a trap-door into
which they disappeared, taking with them a mysterious, cigar-shaped,
metal object like a torpedo.
A little later, as Tom and Rawlins were about to return to their own
dock, they again saw the men and following them were thunderstruck to
discover that they were about to enter a submarine lying at the bottom
of the river. Curious to find out more about the undersea craft,
Rawlins approached it and was suddenly attacked by the two men. Tom
unconsciously screamed and at the sound Frank, who was anxiously
waiting at the receiver on shore, asked what was wrong. Suddenly,
realizing that he was in touch with his friends, Tom called for help
asking Frank to send for the police. At his cries the submarine
quickly got under way, deserting the two strange divers who, seeing
their craft had left, surrendered to Rawlins.
In his excitement one of the men had been careless and as a result the
chemicals in his suit had flamed up at the touch of water and the man
had been seriously injured. With the captured diver, Tom and Rawlins
had made their way to the dock, carrying the wounded man and had
arrived just as Mr. Pauling with Mr. Henderson and the police arrived.
Tom had fainted from strain and excitement and when he recovered
consciousness found that the captive had been recognized as a
dangerous escaped criminal, a Russian “red” and that the other man was
at the point of death.
Mr. Pauling, having heard Rawlins’ tale, suspected a connection
between the deserted sewer, the strange divers, the submarine and the
mysterious messages the boys had heard and at once sent the police to
surround the block and search the buildings. As a result of the raid,
a garage had been found with a secret passage connecting with the
sewer and in which were stored vast quantities of liquor, contraband
goods, Bolshevist propaganda and loot taken from hold-ups and
robberies in New York.
Feeling that they had stumbled upon the key to a wave of crime and
“red” literature which had been sweeping the country, Mr. Henderson
questioned the captive, Smernoff, who confirmed the suspicions and
confessed that the submarine had been used for smuggling liquor and
other contraband into the united States and taking the ill-gotten loot
out and that the contraband had been picked up by the sub-sea boat in
mid ocean at spots where it had been dumped overboard from sailing
vessels by previous arrangements.
He insisted, however, that he knew nothing of the headquarters of the
gang or of their leader whom Henderson and his associates believed was
a master criminal, an unscrupulous, fiendish character who, during the
war, had undertaken to destroy the _Leviathan_, Brooklyn Bridge,
the Navy Yard and many buildings as well as thousands of people in
America and England, but who, failing in this, dared not return to
Germany. The government officials felt confident that this same master
mind was responsible for the wave of crime, the flood of Bolshevist
literature and the threatening letters which had baffled them.
Mr. Pauling and Mr. Henderson were also most anxious to secure a
statement from the other man, who was still unconscious in the
hospital, and when at last he was able to speak Mr. Pauling hurried to
his side. The dying man, thinking that his comrades had betrayed him,
related an astounding story, admitted the existence of the master
criminal and was on the point of revealing his headquarters when he
died.
At almost the same time word was received that the submarine had been
picked up, drifting at sea, by a destroyer despatched to find her, but
that she was absolutely deserted. When at last she was towed into New
York and was examined by Mr. Pauling, Rawlins and the boys she was
found stripped of everything which would have thrown light upon the
mystery. Questioning the crew of the destroyer, Rawlins discovered
that a fishing schooner had been sighted near the drifting submarine
and from the description he recognized it as a Bahaman vessel and
jumped to the conclusion that the crew of the submarine had
transhipped to it.
Believing that he could locate the headquarters of the plotters,
Rawlins suggested that he and the boys should go to the West Indies
and, after some objections had been overcome, this plan had been
agreed to by Tom’s father. Thus it came about that the two boys were
now upon a steamer’s deck as she churned her way through the intensely
blue sea towards the palm-fringed islands beyond her bows.
“I wonder when Rawlins will get here with that sub,” remarked Mr.
Henderson.
“Not for several days yet, I imagine,” replied Mr. Pauling. “There was
a lot of work to be done upon her and she cannot make much over
fifteen knots on a long cruise. I’m personally more anxious to hear
from the destroyers that are chasing the schooner. I wonder if Rawlins
was right in his surmise regarding her.”
“We should hear from them soon after we reach Nassau,” declared the
other. “We left three days after the destroyers and that schooner
certainly could not beat the destroyers to the islands or evade them.
I don’t think there’s the least question about their overhauling her.”
“Say, won’t it be great if they _do_ catch her,” exclaimed Tom,
“and find the crew of the submarine aboard?”
“Yes, but it’s very evident they have not even sighted her as yet,”
replied his father. “If they had we would have received a radio.”
“Perhaps they’re out of range of communication,” suggested Mr.
Henderson.
“Oh, no,” Tom assured him. “The operator says all those naval vessels
can send for several hundred miles and the weather’s been fine—no
static to speak of. We were talking to a Porto Rico liner this
morning.”
“I hope you haven’t given away any information in your enthusiasm over
radio,” remarked his father. “Remember we don’t want any one—not even
‘Sparks’—to have the least inkling of our purpose or plans Always
bear in mind the famous Spanish proverb that ‘a secret between two is
God’s secret but a secret between three is everybody’s.’”
“You needn’t worry about us, Dad,” Tom assured him, “we haven’t
breathed a word—not even about our under-sea radio, although we were
just wild to tell about it. You know our motto is ‘see everything,
hear everything and say nothing.’”
“Stick to that and you’ll be a credit to the Service,” laughed his
father as he and Mr. Henderson moved away.
Tom and Frank soon forgot all about radio or the chances of the swift
destroyers overtaking the schooner in the many interesting sights
about: the long-tailed graceful tropical birds whose snowy breasts
appeared a delicate sea-green from the sunlight reflected through the
clear water by the white sandy bottom of the sea; the bigger Booby
gannets that kept pace with the ship, seeming to float without effort
just above the rails, and that kept turning their china-blue eyes with
a curious stare upon the boys; the big, clumsy pelicans that, in
single file, flapped along a few inches above the sea, rising and
falling in unison with the waves and now and again plunging suddenly
with a tremendous splash into the water as their sharp eyes spied
schools of small fish. All these were new and strange to the boys and
once they caught a glimpse of a V-shaped line of twinkling red dots
against the blue sky which one of the officers assured them was a
flock of flamingoes.
“Gosh!” exclaimed Tom suddenly. “Say, just look there, Frank! See,
down there between the waves—I’m dead sure I saw the bottom!”
The officer chuckled. “Of course you did!” he assured Tom. “Why
not? You can see bottom at ten fathoms down here anywheres. Water’s
as clear as glass. Why, when you get to Nassau you can look down
and see the sea-fans and corals and marine growths perfectly
plainly—sea-gardens the Conchs call ’em—regular places for tourists
to go. And you can sit on the dock and fish and watch the fool fishes
nibbling at your bait—red and blue and yellow and every color of the
rainbow. Then, when you see one that suits your fancy you can just
yank him up—great thing this being able to pick your fish!”
The boys looked at him half suspiciously. “Say,” exclaimed Frank, “are
you trying to kid us?”
“Not a bit of it,” replied the purser. “Just wait and see. Why, if I
told you half the truth about such things you’d swear I was lying.”
“Golly!” ejaculated Tom. “Wouldn’t it be fine to go down in a diving
suit in such water. I don’t wonder that R—” Tom checked himself just
in time and asked, “But what do you mean by saying the ‘Conchs’ call
the places sea gardens?”
The purser laughed. “Oh, I forgot you’d never been down here,” he
said. “Conchs is the local name for the Bahamans. Guess it’s because
they’re always diving for conchs or maybe because they’re as much at
home under water as on land. Greatest divers in the world; fact, I’ve
seen ’em diving for sponge and coral many a time and when we get to
Nassau this afternoon you’ll see about ten thousand naked nigger boys
crowding about, begging you to toss pennies to ’em so they can dive
and catch them. Little beggars can grab a coin long before it gets to
the bottom and if you toss a penny off one side of the ship they’ll
dive off the other, swim under the keel and get the coin before it
reaches bottom. And speaking of diving—say, this is the real home and
headquarters of that. Met a chap down here last winter—Rawlins is his
name—was taking a lot of movies under water, fact. Had a new-fangled
sort of suit that didn’t have ropes or hose or anything and just
plumped overboard as easy as is and wandered around making friends
with the fishes.”
The boys nudged each other and winked. “Oh, now you _are_ kidding
us!” said Tom. “How could a fellow go down without air and how could
he take movies under the sea? That’s too big even for us to swallow.”
“Fact, just the same,” the other declared. “Had some sort of gadget
fixed up on his suit to make air and he took the movies in a big steel
room or chamber at the end of a jointed, water-tight pipe—had
electric lights and everything in it. Sure thing and no fooling. Saw
some of the pictures up in New York too. Yep, one of ’em was called
‘Drowned Gold’ or something of the sort—story of a treasure under the
sea—gathered in by Huns in a submarine and cached in an old wreck.
Rattling good picture too! Say, you boys want to see his place—got a
regular studio here. I don’t think Rawlins is here though.”
“That would be interesting,” agreed Frank, “I’d love to go down in a
diving suit and walk about on the bottom. Don’t the fish and things
ever trouble him?”
“No,” responded the purser, “even sharks keep off—only danger’s in
devil fish—octopus, you know. They grow mighty big hereabouts and are
likely to grab anything. Rawlins was making one picture of a whopping
big octopus fighting with a diver—fake devil fish made out of rubber,
but natural as is. Don’t know how it turned out but I tell you I’m not
keen on running foul of any of the real thing. And speaking of
sharks—say, here’s a fact that you boys will think’s a whopper.
Niggers down here dive in right among the sharks—carry a long knife
in their teeth—and grab hold of a shark’s fin and knife him, fact!”
“Well, you can’t tell any yarn bigger than that!” laughed Frank.
“Imagine a man tackling a shark under water! Oh come, you must think
we’re easy!”
“Well, just wait and see,” replied the purser, “but I’ll have to be
running along. There’s New Providence ahead—we’ll be getting into
port within the next hour.”
“Gosh, he’s some talker!” exclaimed Tom with a laugh when the
loquacious officer had left. “And wasn’t it rich—his telling us about
Rawlins and the suits and never guessing we knew him or had been down
in those suits ourselves! Say, I’m beginning to think there’s a lot of
fun in being Secret Service people. It’s sport listening to folks
telling all they know about a thing that you know more about and they
never guessing it.”
“Yes,” agreed Frank, “and I can understand now how detectives and
Secret Service men find out so much without any one suspecting them.
They just start a conversation and then let the other fellows do the
talking and pick up a lot of information. But that _was_ rich
about the sharks!”
“And the devil fish too!” added Tom. “Wonder if there _is_ any
danger from being attacked by an octopus. Say, if there is that’s
where our undersea radio would come in mighty fine.”
But whether or not the purser’s tales were true in regard to the
sharks and octopus the boys soon discovered that he had not in the
least exaggerated the clarity of the water or the skill of the native
diving boys when their ship steamed slowly into Nassau harbor.
It was all so wonderfully fascinating and beautiful that the boys kept
constantly uttering exclamations of surprise and delight. Never had
they dreamed that there could be such vivid colors anywhere in the
world. The sky, so blue it resembled a dense solid dome of blue silk;
the water, ultramarine, emerald and turquoise streaked with gold and
purple; the vivid green foliage with masses of scarlet hibiscus and
flaming poinciana trees; the glaring, snow-white coral streets; the
pink, blue, green, yellow, and lavender houses with their red roofs
and green shutters; the bright-hued orange and red bandannas and
gleaming costumes of the negro women crowding the dock; the lofty
nodding palm trees above the beaches and looming like gigantic feather
dusters above the buildings; the crimson and blue flags of England
flying everywhere; the scarlet tunics of strolling soldiers from the
garrison; the little shore boats bobbing upon the water and painted
every color of the rainbow and scores of sponging and fishing smacks
as brilliant in hues as the smaller craft, all combined to form a
kaleidoscopic picture of gaudy tints and blazing colors such as can be
found only in the tropic islands of the Caribbean. But all these
sights were of less interest to Tom and Frank than the naked black,
brown and yellow diving boys who paddled about the ship in crude
home-made boats, formed from discarded packing cases, or straddled
lengths of bamboo and with grinning faces and rolling eyes begged the
passengers to throw coins into the water exactly as the purser had
described. And when Tom and Frank tossed shining nickels into the sea
and the score of black bodies left the makeshift boats as one, the two
American boys burst into roars of merriment.
“Gosh, they’re just like a lot of black frogs!” cried Tom. “And just
look at them, Frank! See them! Look there! They’re after those nickels
and you can see them as plain as if they were under glass! There!
Look! One of them’s got a coin! And see how funny the pink soles of
their feet look! Say, it’s wonderful!”
For the next half hour the diving boys reaped a rich harvest of small
coins and then, the customs and port doctor’s men having completed
their inspection, Tom and Frank followed Mr. Pauling down the gangway
and a few moments later stood upon the first West Indian island they
had ever visited.