LOST
Long before they had recovered from their fright, from the strain and
the reaction, Rawlins appeared, his face pale, but with its habitual
cheerful grin and half-carrying Sam.
“I’ll say that was a close call!” he exclaimed, as he placed the negro
on a seat. “Say, get some brandy or whisky quick! Sam’s all in.”
As the others crowded about, laughing, congratulating, expressing
their relief and joy at his escape and forcing liquor between Sam’s
blue lips, Rawlins was busily chafing and rubbing the man’s cold body
and limbs, slapping his chest and back and giving orders.
“Get some hot coffee,” he commanded, “and blankets. He’ll be all right
soon. Went to pieces in the air-lock—couldn’t help me off with the
suit and had a devil of a time with it. Bully boy, Sam! There, old
sport, how do you feel?”
A sickly smile spread over Sam’s haggard features.
“Ah’s all right, Chief,” he whispered. “Did Ah finish tha’ sea-cat,
Chief?”
“I’ll say you did!” cried Rawlins. “Cut him clean in two! Blamed lucky
for me too. Here, take this coffee!”
Sam gulped down the steaming coffee and was wrapped in the blankets
and slowly the color came back to his lips and he took deep, long
breaths.
“You’re all right now,” declared Rawlins. “Be fit as ever and ready
for another scrap with an octopus before dinner. Say, Sam, I
can’t——” Rawlins swayed, his face went white as a sheet and he
grasped wildly at a stanchion. Willing hands seized him and carried
him to a couch where, for five minutes, they worked feverishly over
him before he opened his eyes and regained consciousness.
“By Jove, but you’ve got grit!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson. “Nerviest
thing I ever saw! Imagine going through that horror and then bringing
Sam in and tending to him before you gave in! Rawlins, old man, you’re
a marvel!”
Rawlins grinned and rose to a sitting posture.
“Guess I was a bit knocked out and shaken,” he admitted. “I’ll say
it’s no sport fighting a darned octopus!” and then, with a whimsical
smile, “Say, I’ll be able to make a corking film of an octopus next
time. I thought that last one of mine was a peach, but it didn’t have
enough pep to it. Never thought when I invented that rubber beast I’d
ever get in a scrap with a real one.”
“Oh, it was terrible!” cried Tom. “How can you joke about it?”
“Easy to laugh as to cry,” replied Rawlins. “All’s well that ends
well, you know. I guess you’re glad you didn’t go down now.”
“You bet we are!” declared Frank. “Gee! I don’t believe I’ll ever go
down again. I’d imagine there were devil fish waiting for me
everywhere. Ugh!”
“Never had to tackle one before,” said Rawlins, “and I’ve been diving
for years. Well, I guess I’m O.K. I’ll get busy on that wreck again.”
“Not for one minute!” said Mr. Pauling decisively. “You’ll just forget
that wreck—at least as long as you are with me. If you feel all right
we’ll get out of here as quick as we can and get some fresh air—I’m
stifling and my heart’s still beating like a trip hammer.”
“Well, I suppose you’re the boss,” grinned Rawlins, “but it’s a shame
to clear out with that old galleon and a lot of loot so handy.”
“Bother the galleon and her loot!” burst out Mr. Henderson. “No more
nonsense on this trip. We’ve had enough of under-sea work to last a
lifetime.”
Ten minutes later, the submarine was floating on the surface and
standing in the bright warm sunshine on deck, with the placid blue sea
about and the rich green island beyond, the boys could scarcely
believe that they had really undergone such a frightful experience. It
seemed like some unreal, horrible nightmare, but the round raw spots
on Rawlins’ hands where the creature’s suckers had gripped him were
proof of the reality of the battle, and every time the boys thought of
it they shuddered and cold chills ran up and down their spines.
Rawlins made little of it, joking and laughing as if such matters were
of everyday occurrence, while Sam, fully recovered from the effects of
his daring rescue, refused to be considered a hero and was ill at ease
and embarrassed whenever a word of praise or commendation was
expressed.
Very soon Santo Domingo was so close that Rawlins advised running
submerged and, pointing out a low valley-like expanse extending far
into the hills, declared it to be the entrance to Caña Honda Bay. With
the periscope just visible above the sea, and hugging the shores as
closely as they dared, the submarine was run slowly into the narrow
opening while the boys, stationed at their instruments, listened for
the faintest hint of a whirring screw in their vicinity. But no sound
broke the silence under the sea and no sign of another craft was seen.
Well up the bay and behind a densely wooded point the sub-sea craft
was run into a smaller bay and then, emerging, Rawlins piloted her
through a crooked river-like channel until safely screened back of a
low sandy beach covered with a grove of coconut trees.
“We’re pretty safe here, I think,” he announced. “I came here once
with a party of scientists and we camped here when we were on that
trip looking for the wreck yonder. If the 'reds’ are hanging out near
here they’ll be over the other side of the bay, I think. Those hills
over there are full of caves and it’s a wild country. Just the place
for such a gang. We can keep an eye on the entrance and the channel
from here and go snooping around after dark and maybe pick up a radio
message or see a fire or smoke.”
“You’ve selected an ideal spot,” agreed Mr. Pauling. “Safe harbor,
fresh coconuts, a nice beach for bathing and safely hidden. I don’t
know how we could get on without you, Rawlins.”
“Well, if I hadn’t got the crazy idea of coming down here you wouldn’t
have been here,” the diver reminded him. “So you couldn’t have been
without me. But I’m mighty glad I’ve helped a little.”
“How about fresh water?” asked Mr. Henderson. “Ours is getting pretty
low, you know.”
“There’s a stream back on the mainland—just over by that point,”
replied Rawlins, “and there’s a sort of inner harbor here too—fine
place for fishing and hunting, though of course we can’t hunt—and
beyond that a big mangrove swamp that runs clean around to the
opposite side of the bay. By going through that we could sneak over
around the caves without being seen. Devil of a place to get through,
though—regular labyrinth. A man would get lost there in a jiffy
without a compass.”
It was now nearly sundown and preparations were at once made for the
night.
It was agreed that no time was to be lost. That as soon as darkness
came Rawlins and Mr. Pauling with one of the boys should go out in a
boat carrying a receiving instrument and the resonance coil while the
others remained in the submarine and listened for any sounds or
messages which might come to them.
“The trouble is we cannot communicate safely,” remarked Mr. Pauling.
“That’s the one great shortcoming of this radio. Any one within range
can hear. I don’t know much about the technical end as you know, but I
can see that the man who invents a method of communicating by wireless
secretly, or so others can’t hear him, will make his fortune and
revolutionize the science.”
“You’re quite right,” agreed Mr. Henderson. “That’s why it will never
take the place of wire telegraphy or telephone—that is, until such a
discovery as you suggest is made. However, the very fact that it’s not
possible to keep messages secret at present is to our advantage now.
It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, you know.”
“We’ll hope we don’t need to communicate,” said Rawlins. “I don’t see
why we should. If we hear anything and locate the gang we can come
back here, slip away and call Disbrow. We’re in no shape to make an
attack by ourselves.”
“I’d like to know why not?” demanded Tom. “We could turn the gun on
’em and we’ve got rifles and pistols and everything.”
“Sure,” laughed Rawlins. “I suppose we’d pick up that two-inch gun and
lug it over in the small boat and dump it down in their front yard
while they looked on. No, Son, if they got wise to us being here
they’d either clean out by their sub or scatter in the bush or go for
us tooth and nail. A crowd that don’t hesitate to try to torpedo us
isn’t going to stop at a scrap and the Lord alone knows how many of
’em there are.”
“Rawlins is right,” declared Mr. Pauling. “If we locate them we must
plan to make a concerted raid, surrounding them on all sides and with
a large enough force to make resistance useless. The man we want may
or may not be there, but we must be absolutely sure to get him if he
is. If he gives us the slip our troubles will have just commenced.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s so,” admitted Tom. “Gosh, I hope we do find
them.”
Everything was now in readiness, the night was inky black, not a
glimmer of light showed upon the submarine and silently embarking in
the small boat, Rawlins, Mr. Pauling, Tom and two of the crew pushed
off and were instantly swallowed up in the darkness.
Sitting at his instruments and listening for any chance sound or
message was dull work for Frank and his mind was constantly on what
Tom and the others might be doing. Once, very faint and far away, he
thought he heard the whirring sound of a screw, but Bancroft, who
listened in at Frank’s request, declared he did not believe it was.
“At any rate,” he said, “if 't is, it’s a long way off. Maybe some
ship outside the bay.”
Then followed absolute silence. Bancroft, at the regular instruments,
picked up some dot and dash messages flying back and forth between
passing ships and the big station at Santo Domingo City, but there was
nothing suspicious, nothing that hinted of the proximity of the men
they sought. Slowly the time dragged on, hour after hour passed by.
Frank yawned and almost dozed while sitting at the instruments. Would
the boat never return? Had they heard or seen anything? How, Frank
wondered, could Rawlins find his way in such dense blackness? Would
they get lost in the swamp he had mentioned? Suppose they never
returned? Perhaps they might be captured or killed by the outlaws. The
thought startled him. It had not occurred to him before that there was
any danger. But once that current of thought was started it ran riot
in his brain. He grew nervous, excited, worried, and Bancroft could
not cheer him or disabuse him of the premonition that something
serious had happened.
“Oh, you’d hear ’em, if anything happened,” declared the operator.
“They’d call you or something. If they were discovered there’d be no
need of keeping quiet. Trouble is, your nerves aren’t over the
excitement of this afternoon yet. Cheer up. They’re all right. No news
is good news, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” admitted Frank, “but just the same I’m
worried.”
Then to his ears came a faint sound; before he could grasp its meaning
he heard footsteps overhead and a moment later Rawlins and Tom
descended the ladder with Mr. Pauling close behind them and Mr.
Henderson, who had been keeping watch on deck, bringing up the rear.
“Gee, I’m glad you’re back!” cried Frank. “I thought sure something
had happened to you! Did you find them?”
“Not a sign!” replied Rawlins. “Don’t believe they’ve got over here
yet.”
“Gosh, but it was black!” exclaimed Tom, “and weird. What did you
think could happen to us?”
Frank, rather ashamed of his unwarranted fears, tried to explain, but
Rawlins laughed.
“Don’t you worry over anything of that sort,” he told him. “We can
take care of ourselves.”
“And, as Bancroft said, if anything went wrong we’d let you know,”
said Mr. Pauling. “Remember, all of you, if you have trouble or are
attacked or anything goes wrong don’t hesitate to call for help or
give information. Safety first is the rule and it’s better to lose the
game by having the rascals hear us than to come to grief ourselves. I
should never forgive myself if anything serious happened to any of us
through lack of communicating with the means at hand, regardless of
the results as far as catching the criminals is concerned.”
“Didn’t you hear anything on the detector?” asked Tom.
“Nothing but the splash of your oars when you came and went and, yes,
I heard something once I thought was a screw, but is was too faint to
be sure and Mr. Bancroft didn’t think it was.”
“Funny,” commented Mr. Pauling. “Of course we didn’t go very far—it
was slow work getting about in the dark—and we had to turn back as
the moon began to rise. They are either not here or else were not
talking through their instruments. To-morrow night we’ll have an hour
longer and can go farther.”
“I think the very fact that they were not conversing by radio proves
one of two things,” declared Mr. Henderson. “Either the submarine has
not 'come within speaking distance or else all are ashore together
when there would be no need of talking by wireless. I imagine that, as
they know the destroyer is looking for them, and are aware that we or
those on the destroyer have some form of under-sea radio, they would
be very cautious about using it and would do so only when absolutely
necessary.”
“Yes, and they’ll lay low for a while too,” said Rawlins. “They know
about the raid in New York and about Smernoff’s escape and they wont
try any of their tricks for a time you can bet. They’ll just listen
and say nothing and wait until the excitement blows over. It’ll be
like stalking a deer to find ’em.”
“Yes, or like looking for a needle in a haystack,” agreed Mr. Pauling,
“although I should not be surprised if they are occupying one of those
caves you mention. Our best plan will be to make a thorough search and
trust to luck.”
The night passed uneventfully and the boys awoke the next morning
feeling as if the adventures of the previous days were all a dream.
Nothing could be done during the day and so, after breakfast, they
paddled to the beach, had a splendid swim, gathered coconuts to their
hearts’ content and came back to lunch with hearty appetites. In the
afternoon they went with the two boats to the stream for fresh water
and the boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves wandering about in the
jungle while the men filled the casks. They had never been in a
tropical forest before and they were filled with wonder at every turn.
The enormous trees, with their wide-spreading buttress-like roots and
the drapery of lianas; the great, broad-leaved air plants and gay
orchids; the innumerable palms and brilliant flowers were fascinating.
They exclaimed with delight at the gaudy butterflies, the tiny humming
birds and bright-plumaged tanagers and were tremendously interested in
the hosts of big busy ants carrying bits of leaves in their jaws and
moving across the forest floor in an endless procession. Rawlins told
them these were “drougher ants” and stated that the scientists with
whom he had visited the spot before said they used the bits of leaves
for propagating a species of fungus in their nests—“sort of ants’
mushrooms” as he put it—on which they fed.
Once the boys were puzzled by a shrill, rather pretty song which
seemed to issue from the sky and in vain they searched for the singer
until Frank’s sharp eyes spied a tiny atom perched on the topmost leaf
of a tall palm—a very midget of a bird—a diminutive humming bird no
larger than a bumblebee, whose fluttering wings and trembling throat
proved him to be the singer. Again, they were startled by harsh,
discordant cries and were just in time to see a flock of green and red
parrots winging swiftly away from a tree where they had been feeding.
It was all very novel and strange and to the boys, who for so long had
been confined to the submarine. It was a most delightful change, and
even after the casks had been filled and the boats were ready to
depart they insisted on remaining, telling the men to come back just
before sundown.
With nightfall, the small boat again started forth on its search,
Frank this time going with the party while Tom remained on board, but
once again they returned unsuccessful.
The following day Rawlins suggested going for a fishing trip and with
the two boys rowed up through the narrow, winding channel to the inner
harbor and for several hours caught fish as fast as they could bait
their hooks and drop them into the dark water.
Then, with enough fish and to spare, Rawlins rowed them into the
dismal mangrove swamp among the maze of trunks, aerial roots and
winding channels. This was another new and wonderful experience to the
boys. It was low tide and between the densely growing mangroves the
mud was exposed and with countless brilliant scarlet and yellow crabs
scuttling about everywhere, across the mud, up and down the tree
trunks, over the roots, even on the overhanging branches. Many of the
trees with their sprawling roots were overgrown with oysters and the
boys gathered half a boatload of the bivalves. Rawlins too showed them
how the mangroves spread and grew by means of the roots descending
from the branches, how the slender but tough cable like roots
supported the trees and bound all together into a compact mass and how
the trees, ever growing out into the water and accumulating mud and
drift about them, formed land.
“Some day,” he declared, “this whole swamp will be dry land. After the
mangroves come black-jacks and sea-grapes, then palms and other trees,
and at last it will be all forest. I’ve seen lots of places like
that.”
There was bird life in plenty in the swamp too. Green and blue herons,
white egrets and scarlet-faced white ibis that flapped up at the
boat’s approach and stared curiously at the intruders, uttering
half-frightened, hoarse croaks like giant frogs.
“Say, it would be fine hunting here,” declared Frank when, a little
later, a flock of tree ducks whirred up and perched upon the trees
within easy gunshot. “It’s too bad we can’t shoot. Roast duck would go
fine for a change.”
“I’ll say it would,” agreed Rawlins, “but a fellow could hear a
gunshot miles off here and it would give us away in a minute.”
Night after night the boat left the submarine, ever going farther and
farther in its search, but without results, and each day the boys
amused themselves by exploring the adjoining woods and swamps,
sometimes with Rawlins, and sometimes by themselves.
At first Mr. Pauling had objected to the two youngsters going off
alone, but after they had promised always to carry a compass and to be
very careful he consented, on the condition that they did not go far
and always took along their radio set.
“Not only that you may use it in case of real need,” he explained,
“but also as it is always possible that you may hear messages.
Remember and don’t use the set unless absolutely compelled to, but
don’t hesitate if in danger or lost.”
On their first two excursions they enjoyed themselves hugely. They had
caught plenty of fish, explored a small island in the swamp and found
a colony of egrets and herons and had even seen a few of the
wonderful, pink, roseate spoonbills. Also, they had been terribly
startled when a big broad snout broke through the water a few yards
from the boat and with a terrific bellow plunged out of sight.
Rawlins laughed heartily when they told of this. “Just a manatee or
seacow,” he said. “Perfectly harmless creatures and usually very shy.
I’ll bet he was more frightened than you two boys.”
On the third day, hoping to again catch sight of a manatee, and intent
on exploring another small island they had seen, the boys set forth in
high spirits, taking along a lunch and planning to be away until
afternoon. Rawlins had planned to go with them, promising to show them
an alligator’s nest, but at the last minute changed his mind and
decided to tramp inland and ascend a high hill with the hopes of
sighting smoke which might divulge the presence of the men they
sought.
For a time all went well with the boys. They paddled to the portion of
the swamp they had already visited, took compass bearings and
continued on their way. They found the island they had sighted and
spent several hours exploring it and, finding a pleasant sandy beach
on the farther side, decided to eat lunch there. Returning to their
boat they rowed around to the beach and, seated in the shade of the
trees, ate their midday meal while laughing and joking over the clumsy
pelicans diving and fishing in an open area of water a short distance
away. Suddenly, from beyond a thick grove of mangroves, came the
startling bull-like bellow of a manatee.
“Come on!” cried Tom. “Let’s go and find him. He’s just back of that
point. If we sneak up on him carefully we’ll see him!”
Hurrying to the boat they tumbled in and rowed as silently as possible
to the point and peered beyond. There was no sign of a manatee, but
ever-widening ripples on the calm water showed where some creature had
been a few moments before and presently, from up a narrow lane of
water, they heard a snort and a short bellow again.
“He’s gone up that channel,” declared Frank in a whisper. “Come along!
He’s bound to come up. Gee! I _would_ like to see one. Mr.
Rawlins says they’re eight or ten feet long and with skin like an
elephant.”
Paying little heed to where they were going the two interested and
excited boys, keen on their chase of the elusive manatee, paddled up
the winding channel among the mangroves while ever just beyond, they
could hear the snorts or the rumbling bellow of the creature they were
following.
Presently they swung around a bunch of the trees and found themselves
upon a small lake-like lagoon several hundred acres in extent and
surrounded by the mangrove swamp.
“I’ll bet he’s in here,” declared Tom. “Let’s sit still and watch.”
Taking in their oars the boys sat motionless, gazing about the
tranquil surface of the lagoon and watching for the expected
appearance of the sea-cow.
Suddenly Frank gripped Tom’s arm. “Look!” he whispered. “There he is.
See, crawling up on that mud bank!”
“Gosh! that’s so,” agreed Tom and fascinated, the two boys watched as
a big, bulky, black creature emerged from the dark still water and
slowly and with great effort drew himself onto the wet mud flat among
the trees.
“Jimmy, isn’t he a queer beast!” exclaimed Frank in an undertone.
“Looks like a seal; and what a funny head!”
“I wish we were closer,” whispered Tom. “Don’t you suppose we could
sneak nearer?”
“Well, we can try,” agreed Frank. “We’ve seen all we can from here and
if we do scare him we can see the way he dives. Come on.”
Very cautiously, the boys slipped their oars into the water and
silently edged the boat closer and closer to the unsuspecting
creature.
They had reached a point within a few rods of the manatee when the
clumsy beast suddenly lifted his head, peered at them with his tiny
eyes in a way which Tom afterwards said reminded him of Smernoff, and
so quickly the boys could hardly follow his movements plunged into the
water.
“Gosh!” exclaimed Tom, “I didn’t suppose he could move so quickly. Oh,
say, here he comes! Look!”
The water where the manatee had drawn himself ashore was shallow and
as he strove to reach deep water, frightened out of his few wits by
the unexpected sight of the human beings, his broad back broke through
the surface like the bottom of a capsized boat and to the boys’
excited minds he seemed headed directly for them.
Although Rawlins had assured them that manatees were gentle harmless
creatures, yet here, alone in the big, silent, mysterious swamp, the
huge beast seemed fraught with danger to the excited boys and they
were fully convinced that he was attacking them. Grabbing the oars
they strove frantically to get out of his way, but the boat was heavy
and clumsy, the boys were frightened and in their mad efforts to avoid
the oncoming sea-cow Frank’s oar slipped from the rowlocks, he lurched
backwards and before he could recover himself or cry out he plunged
overboard. Had Tom not been so terribly frightened he would have
roared with laughter at the sight, for as Frank fell he pushed the
boat aside and was now floundering about in water up to his waist,
struggling madly to regain the boat while the manatee, absolutely
crazy with fright at the splash and the appearance of the boy, tried
to turn and escape in another direction and in his blind rush bumped
into Frank’s legs and knocked him yelling and screaming head over
heels.
But at the time there was nothing humorous in the situation to either
boy. To Frank, startled by the manatee in the first place and shocked
and frightened at his unexpected plunge, the poor bewildered creature
was a terrifying monster bent on destroying him, while to Tom, equally
scared, the manatee’s sudden turn and collision with Frank appeared as
a deliberate attack. But it was all over in an instant. The manatee
gained deep water and disappeared and Frank, covered with mud and
dripping with the water, wallowed to the boat and pulled himself in.
“Whew!” he exclaimed as he caught his breath. “That _was_ a
narrow escape!”
Then for the first time Tom became sensible. “Say, I don’t believe he
was after us at all!” he declared. “He was just frightened half to
death. Golly, but you look scared!”
“So would you if you’d been overboard with that big beast in the water
alongside of you knocking you down,” responded Frank. “Come on, I’ve
had enough of this, let’s go back.”
“All right,” agreed Tom, “Hello, where did we come in?”
As he glanced about he realized for the first time that he was not
sure of his bearings. A dozen and more openings showed among the
mangroves and try as he might he could not tell which was the one by
which they had entered the lagoon.
For an instant Frank looked about. “Over there,” he declared
positively. “I remember that funny-shaped tree.”
“All right then,” replied Tom, “I thought for a minute we were lost.”
Feeling sure they were right the boys pulled into the narrow channel,
chatting and laughing over their adventure until suddenly Tom stopped
rowing and glanced about.
“Say, this isn’t the place we came in,” he declared. “We never passed
here. Look ahead—those stumps are right in the middle of the channel
and we’d have seen them sure.”
“Golly, I believe you’re right!” agreed Frank, “Say, we’ll have to go
by compass.”
Dropping his oars he reached into his pocket and slowly a strange
expression of wonder, amazement, surprise and fright overspread his
face.
“It’s gone!” he said in an awe-struck tone. “It’s lost! Gosh, Tom, it
must have dropped out of my pocket when I went overboard!”
“Jiminy, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Tom. “But you needn’t be so
frightened, we can go back and start over again.”
“Yes, but suppose we can’t find the right lead?” objected Frank. “Then
we will be in a pretty fix!”
“Oh, we can find it,” declared Tom reassuringly. “If necessary we can
try every one until we get the right one.”
Turning their boat the boys pulled rapidly back to the lagoon and
after a careful survey decided on another channel.
“Hurrah, this _is_ right!” cried Frank after they had rowed some
distance, “I remember that clump of reeds. We’re all right.”
But after they had rowed steadily for an hour the two boys began to
have doubts.
“We ought to be out by that island by now,” declared Tom. “I’m
beginning to think we’re wrong again.”
“I was just getting that same way myself,” admitted Frank. “Say, if we
don’t look out it’ll be dark before we get out of here.”
“Well we can use the radio,” suggested Tom.
“Not unless we have to,” replied Frank. “We still have time to go back
and—hello, there’s the island now!”
Glancing over his shoulder Tom saw that they had reached a bend in the
waterway and beyond it loomed a wooded island. For a moment he gazed
at it.
“That’s not the island,” he announced. “Look, it’s got palms on it.”
“Jehoshaphat, so it has!” exclaimed Frank. “Say, Tom, we’re lost.
We’ll have to use the radio.”
“Yes, I guess we will,” agreed Tom, “if we go back to that lagoon now
we’ll never get out until after dark and Dad’ll be worried to death.”
As he spoke, he uncovered the radio apparatus while Frank got out the
small portable aerial and erected it over the boat, dropping the
ground wire over the side into the water.
Tom picked up the instruments, turned on the rheostat and was about to
call into the microphone when his jaw dropped, his eyes seemed about
to pop from his head and his hand shook.
“What on earth’s the matter?” cried Frank, alarmed at the strange
expression which had come over Tom’s face. “You look as if you’d seen
a ghost.”
“Hssh!” whispered Tom in a shaky voice. “I near them! I heard those
Russians! Gosh, Frank! they must be close by!”