Instantly all was commotion on board the submarine, but it was orderly commotion. Clackett jumped to his ballast tanks, Gaines “turned his engine over,” and Carl and Dick hastened into the periscope room.
“Aft with you, Carl,” called Bob, “and stand by to take in the stern anchor. Clackett, forward, and be ready for the bow anchor. Dick,” Bob’s eyes were again on the periscope table, “bring all the loose coils of rope you can find and lay them on the locker.”
Dick had no notion what the ropes were wanted for, but he went for them, and soon had four coils laid along the top of the locker. After that, he passed to the steering wheel, standing shoulder to shoulder beside Bob in front of the periscope table.
There was an atmosphere of expectancy all through the submarine. Every nerve was strained, and each person stood at his post almost with bated breath. Ysabel, without speaking, came into the periscope room and watched Bob with steady eyes.
“There she is!” cried Dick, his eyes on the periscope mirror; “I see her coming!”
Bob also saw the motor launch, breaking into sight against the background of indistinct foliage, far up the stream. The boat was comparatively small, and well loaded. Fingal was in the bow thwarts, with a rifle across his knees; in the stern was Cassidy and a negro soldier, both likewise armed with rifles. Between Fingal and Cassidy and the negro were the prisoners. There were four of them—Jordan, Speake, Tirzal, and a slender, full-bearded man in a batteredsolar hat. Cassidy was close to the gasoline engine and was evidently looking after it. Fingal, from the bow, was doing the steering.
“They’re all there,” said Bob, in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Come here, Ysabel.”
The girl stepped obediently to his side. Bob pointed to one of the prisoners reflected in the mirror.
“Is that Coleman?” he asked.
“Yes,” was the answer.
“You’d better go back and sit down, Ysabel,” said Bob. “Pretty soon we’re going to need all the space we have in this vicinity.”
Bob was easy, almost smiling. A great relief had come to him, for the launch was in sight with four captives and three captors, and now it lay with Bob alone whether his friends and Coleman should be released or not.
“Why don’t you do something?” implored Dick, his hands shaking with excitement.
“I’m waiting for the right time,” was the cool answer.
“We’ve only two revolvers,” muttered Dick, “and there are three rifles in that boat. What can we do?”
“Nothing with firearms. We’ve got to make a different play, Dick.”
A moment longer Bob waited, studying the approach of the launch with calculating eyes; then, suddenly, he turned.
“In with the anchors, Clackett, you and Carl,” he called. “See how quick you can get them off the bottom. Start your engine, Gaines,” he added.
The lifting of the anchors caused theGrampusto drift with the current. But only for a moment. Soon the screw took the push and Dick, under orders from Bob, headed the craft upstream and the propeller worked just fast enough to hold her steady.
“Anchor’s stowed!” called Clackett.
“Jump for the tank room, Clackett!” called Bob. “Carl, up here with you.”
As Carl came rolling excitedly into the periscope room, Clackett reported, by tube, that he was back at his usual post.
“Keep theGrampuspointed for the launch, Dick,” said Bob. “Carl, take a coil of rope and climb to the conning-tower hatch. The moment the tower’s awash, open the hatch, get out on the deck and do what you can with the rope.”
Carl was bewildered. What was he to do with the rope? Nevertheless, he obeyed orders.
Bob continued to watch the periscope table and to calculate. Then, again suddenly, he whirled to the tube communicating with the tank chamber.
“Empty the tanks by compressed air, Clackett!” he called. “See how quick you can do it! Everything depends on you!”
The hiss of the air was heard ejecting the water. The submarine began to rise.
“Bring her up under the launch, Dick!” cried Bob. “Make no mistake, old chap!Under the launch, mind!”
A thrill ran through Dick Ferral’s nerves. At last he understood what his friend was about! Had he had time, Dick would have liked to give Bob Steele a hug from sheer admiration.
“When the tanks are empty,” shouted Bob to Clackett, “come up, take a coil of rope and rush for the deck.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” called Clackett.
The periscope revealed a strange situation. The launch was almost upon the periscope ball. Too late those in the motor boat recognized the device. Before the boat could sheer off, theGrampushad risen underher bodily and lifted her clear of the water. The steel hull of the submarine shivered, and wild cries came from those in the motor boat.
Dick grabbed a coil of rope and leaped for the iron ladder.
“Up with the hatch, Carl!” he yelled. “Out on the deck and see how many you can pull out of the river.”
Carl, wrenching back on the lever and throwing up the dripping hatch cover, scrambled out.
“Steer from the tower, Dick,” Bob called, racing up the ladder, “as soon as the hatchway is cleared.”
Clackett followed Bob, and Ysabel Sixty followed Clackett. The thrill of the moment was in the girl’s nerves. She could not have held herself back if she had wanted to. Armed with a coil of rope, she climbed over the rim of the hatch and out on the slippery plates of the deck.
What Bob saw, when he struck the deck, was an overturned launch in the water, and two men clinging to the bow of theGrampus. One of these was Cassidy and the other was Tirzal. The former was clinging to the flagstaff, and the other to one of the wire cable guys. By an accident, they had held to the curved deck instead of slipping back into the water.
Dick, from the tower, was able to direct the boat so as to facilitate the picking up of those in the river.
Carl tossed a rope to Speake, Bob got one to Coleman, and Clackett succeeded in getting a line in the hands of Jordan. Ysabel tossed one end of her rope to Fingal, but he flung it aside with an oath. The negro soldier reached for it, but Fingal struck his hand fiercely aside, seized the soldier by the neck and began swimming with him toward the river bank.
While the rescued prisoners were being hauled aboard, Bob watched Fingal and the negro. The current was swift, but both men were strong swimmers.To Bob’s satisfaction he saw the two gain the bank and get safely upon dry ground. Fingal’s move was characteristic of him, for, as soon as he could lift himself, he shook his clenched fist at the submarine and those on her deck. If he had had a rifle, undoubtedly he would have done some shooting.
“Bob Steele!” cried Jordan. He was sitting on the deck, his back against the side of the conning tower, shaking the water out of his ears.
“Well?” asked Bob.
“Did you come up under that launch by accident, or did you do it purposely?”
“I had that all figured out, Jordan,” laughed Bob.
“It was the greatest play I ever heard of!”
“It was the only one we could make that would stand any show of winning. When you and Speake and Tirzal left theGrampus, you took all the rifles. We were left with only a brace of six-shooters. Of course I knew better than to try to get the best of Fingal, Cassidy, and the soldier with two popguns when they were armed with rifles.”
“Of course you did!” chuckled Jordan. “I’m as wet as a drowned rat, but I’m happy—oh, yes, happier than I ever thought I should be, a few minutes ago. By the way, Bob, that gentleman with the dripping whiskers is Jeremiah Coleman, the fellow we came to rescue, and just missed leaving a few more prisoners to keep him company. Jerry, shake hands with Bob Steele. He was complimented in those messages from New Orleans, and I must say that he fills the bill.”
“Glad to meet you, Bob Steele,” said Coleman, as he leaned to take Bob’s hand. “You’ve done a fine thing for all of us, and it’s something that won’t be forgotten in a hurry.”
“Cassidy and Tirzal seem to have come aboard without gettin’ wet,” remarked Clackett, with a glance of contempt in the direction of the mate. Cassidy sat on the deck with his head bowed, as abject a figure as Bob ever saw.
“Which way now, Bob?” asked Dick.
“Belize,” replied Bob. “Go down the ladder and let Tirzal take the wheel until we all get below; after that, Tirzal can steer from the tower. Go below, gentlemen, with Dick. You’ll feel more comfortable after you dry your clothes, and then we can have a talk. There are a lot of things I’ve got to find out.”
Ysabel led the descent into the periscope room; Coleman followed her, then Tirzal, then Speake, and then Jordan. Clackett and Carl brought up the rear of the procession, both, with their eyes, telling the melancholy Cassidy what they thought of him as they dropped down the tower hatch.
“Better go below, Cassidy,” said Bob calmly.
For answer, the mate jerked a revolver from a belt at his waist and lifted the muzzle to his breast.
In a twinkling, Bob had hurled himself across the slippery deck and knocked the weapon out of Cassidy’s hand.
“You’re less of a man than I thought you, Cassidy,” cried Bob contemptuously, “to think of such a thing as that!”