A LESSON IN "WHO'S WHO."
In order to reach the motor room Matt had to crawl through a low chamber closely packed with storage batteries. There were sixty cells with a power of one hundred and sixty volts, and with a capacity of what is known, in electrical parlance, as sixteen hundred ampere hours. This room was Speake's dominion, and he sat on a low stool, his head just clearing the deck above, watching furtively as Matt scrambled past him.
Tucked away in the stern, at the end of the floored space, was the motor room. It looked like the tunnel shaft of an ocean liner.
At one side there were switchboards for two dynamotors: one of ten horse power to compress air, and a second of two horse power to supply lights and assist the ventilation. The spiral resistance coils were close to the switchboards. The gasoline engine was in the centre of the compartment, and back of this stretched the shaft, finally passing out into the water through a stuffing box.
Matt glanced at a clock on the wall. From somewhere in the distance he could hear breakers churning soddenly against a reef.
Clackett, crouching low in the curve of the boat's side, looked anxiously at Matt. He paid no attention to Clackett, but gave the fly wheel a sharp turn.
Sputter, pop, pop!
Matt listened. It was marvelous how completely he was in touch with the engine.
"Did you strain the gasoline before you put it into the tank?" he demanded of Clackett.
"Always do that, Matt," was the reply.
"The carburetter valve is clogged. Lay hold here."
In ten minutes the valve was clear, the engine "turned over" and the motor working properly. Matt switched the power into the propeller.
"All right, periscope room!" he called through a tube.
"Bully!" came back the voice of Gaines. "We were almost on the rocks. You're the boy, Matt!"
"Send Dick Ferral down here," ordered Matt curtly.
Dick presently appeared.
"Take charge of the engine, Dick," said Matt.
"What are you going to do, matey?" asked Dick.
"You'll know in a few minutes." He turned to Clackett. "Go up to the periscope room, Clackett," he went on. "I may need you."
"But say, Matt——"
"You heard what I said!"
There was that in Motor Matt's voice and eyes that sent Clackett crawling forward along the passage.
Matt followed him. In the battery room they picked up Speake, and Matt sent him trailing after Clackett. In that order all three finally gained the periscope room.
"What the blazes is the matter with you fellows?" shouted Gaines.
He was doing the steering himself, and was standing by the periscope table.
"Keep your eyes on the periscope," said Matt. "Attend to your work, Gaines."
Matt whirled about to where the don was sitting on a stool. There was a sharp gleam in the Spaniard's eyes, although he was otherwise cool and perfectly collected.
"This is a good time to give you fellows a lesson in who's who aboard theGrampus," said Matt. "Don Ramon, you did a rascally thing when you hired these men to take you south in direct defiance of my orders."
"What of it?" The don shrugged his shoulders. "We'll soon be at the mouth of the Izaral——"
"We arenotgoing to the Izaral River," cut in Matt. "We are going back to Belize."
"We are not going back to Belize until we finish our work in the Izaral," was the insolent response.
"No?" returned Matt coolly. "We'll see. Gaines?" he called.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Gaines, keeping his eyes on the periscope.
"Put about!"
Gaines made no move to shift the wheel.
"You heard what I said, Gaines?" went on Matt, his voice pitched low but carrying an emphasis that lifted it above the hum of the motor.
"I heard you, Matt," replied Gaines.
"Either obey the order or give up the wheel to Clackett."
Brought directly face to face with the issue, Gaines hesitated. The sharp eyes of the don noted the effect the masterful young motorist's words were having on Gaines.
"Don't you do it, Gaines," said the don coolly. "Think of the money you're to get. Motor Matt has not the courage——"
"Don't talk foolish!" growled Gaines. "Matt's got more pluck in a minute than any of the rest of us have in a year. I know him."
"He hasn't the courage to go to the Izaral," growled the don.
"He's only off'n his course a little about that," answered Gaines.
"Will you obey orders, Gaines, or leave your post?" asked Matt.
"He'll obey my orders," flashed the don, "and he'll stay right where he is and hold to his present course."
As the don spoke he pulled a hand from the breast of his coat. The hand gripped a revolver.
"That's your game, is it?" asked Matt, peering steadily into the snaky orbs of the Spaniard.
"We have come thus far on my mission," returned the don, "and we are going the rest of the way."
"Put up that gun!" said Gaines angrily. "If you try any shootin', we'll throw our hands in the air and put back to Belize."
Speake and Clackett moved forward. Matt waved them aside.
"I'll manage this," said he. "Gaines, keep your eyes on the periscope. A fine fellow, this don of yours. You men ought to feel proud of the way you hooked up with him, and——"
Matt, while he was talking, had kept covert eyes on the don. At just that moment theGrampusgave a heavy roll. The don's stool slid back against the steel wall and the point of the revolver was thrown, for the fraction of a second, toward the curving deck, overhead. This was Matt's opportunity. Quick as a flash he hurled himself upon the Spaniard, bore him from the stool and they rolled over and over upon the heaving floor.
The struggle lasted only a few moments, and when Matt withdrew from the don and got to his feet, he was holding the revolver.
"I'll make you answer for this!" cried the don, in a furious temper.
"You are welcome to try—just as soon as we get back to Belize," said Matt. "If this matter is aired, it won't sound very well when your government hears of it."
A mocking light crossed the don's angry face.
"Diable!" he exclaimed. "I'm not afraid of my government."
"Throw it overboard, Speake," said Matt, handing the revolver to Speake. "We don't need that thing here. If I can't have obedience on theGrampuswithout looking at her crew over the sights of a gun, I don't want it."
Speake, without a word, took the revolver and went up the ladder into the conning tower.
"From this on, Don Ramon Ortega," said Matt, "you will consider yourself a passenger. I will treat you better than your conduct demands, and will not make a prisoner of you unless you attempt to interfere with the management of the boat. Do you understand that?"
The don muttered something under his breath.
Before Matt could speak further, a shout came from Speake.
"Small boat off the starboard beam, close in!"
"By Jupiter!" exclaimed Gaines, pushing farther into the hood of the periscope. "Look here, Matt!"
As Matt turned, an evil, triumphant light flashed in the don's eyes. Matt could not see it, and it escaped Clackett.
In the mirror top of the periscope table, clear and distinct, was reflected a ship's boat, a yawl, heaving helplessly on the waves. The boat was not over a hundred feet from the submarine, and the periscope showed it with startling fidelity to detail.
Aboard the yawl were five persons—four men and a boy. They seemed to be in difficult straits, for the men were standing erect and waving their hats frantically.
"They've been shipwrecked, Matt," said Gaines, "and they've lost their oars."
One of the men was a burly individual, wearing an oilskin coat and a sou'wester. All the others were roughly dressed, the boy wearing a pea-jacket and a stocking cap pulled well down over his face.
"There's a sailing craft hull down, off to port," said Matt. "It's a wonder that boat didn't pick those fellows up. But that's unimportant. We'll lay them aboard and take them off. Clackett!"
"Here, Matt!" answered Clackett.
"Take two coils of rope and go aloft." Matt turned to Gaines. "Get as close to the boat as you can, Gaines," he added.
Clackett rushed up the conning-tower ladder, and followed Speake out onto the curving plates of the deck. Matt went after the two men to direct operations from the conning tower.
Those in the boat—with the exception of the boy—appeared in the last stages of exhaustion. On seeing that their wild signals were to be answered, they dropped sprawling over the thwarts.
The boy still stood erect and made gestures—stealthy movements with one hand which puzzled Matt.
"That youngster seems to have stood their hard luck better'n the men," remarked Clackett, moving toward the bow with a coil of rope.
Matt made no answer, but continued to watch the dancing yawl as Gaines brought the submarine steadily nearer.
"Stand by to catch a rope!" shouted Matt presently, when they were close enough for a cast. "Let 'er go, Clackett!"
The rope left Clackett's hand, untwined itself sinuously in the air, and the end of it was grabbed by the big fellow in the sou'wester.
"All fast!" he boomed in a voice that was strangely strong for one whose actions showed him to be nearly fagged out.
Speake's rope was then thrown, and thus, with a double cable, the yawl was drawn close against the rounded side of the submarine.
In the periscope room were only the don and Gaines. Gaines' head was shrouded by the folds of the black periscope hood, and the don, unseen, was rubbing his hands delightedly.
THE SNARE TIGHTENS.
The yawl was on the windward side of theGrampus. Matt, calling down directions to Gaines, had the submarine brought about so that the yawl lay on the lee side. This, to some extent, gave smoother water for the unloading of the small boat's passengers.
Speake, holding to one of the wire guys that supported the periscope tube, descended the rounded deck until up to his knees in water. Stretching out his hand he caught the fist of the big fellow in the sou'wester. The latter, standing on the gunwale of the yawl, gave a leap and landed sprawling on the submarine's deck.
A wave rolled over him, but he managed to clutch the guy rope and hang on. The next moment he rolled over close to the conning tower and lay there, face down, apparently almost spent.
Clackett, imitating Speake's maneuvre, was bringing another of the men aboard. One by one the yawl was unloaded, the boy being the last to come.
Matt, climbing out of the conning tower, ordered the rescued men below. Two of them had vanished through the hatch when Matt, bending over the big fellow by the base of the conning tower, asked him who he and his comrades were, and how they happened to be adrift in a small boat.
"Had er shipwreck," answered the man hoarsely.
"Can't you get up?" asked Matt. "We'll have to get you below, somehow."
"Mebby I kin make it if yer put yer arms under mine an' give me a lift."
Bracing himself on the deck, Matt reached downward and pushed his hands under the man's armpits. At the same moment, the big fellow developed a surprising amount of strength. Both his arms went upward, as he whirled over on his back, and closed about Matt's waist like the two jaws of a vise.
"Now, then, nail 'em, you swabs!" he roared. "I got the boss o' the gang, an' you git the rest!"
Not until that moment did Motor Matt suspect treachery. The revelation came to him like a lightning flash.
A wild uproar echoed from below, and forward and aft Speake and Clackett were struggling with those they had helped aboard.
The rounded deck of theGrampus, slippery with water and deluged again and again by the waves, was a fearsome place for such a struggle. How the combatants ever kept themselves out of the sea was a mystery.
Matt fought as best he could. He recognized the big fellow as Abner Fingal, and knew, as well as though he had been told, that Don Ramon Ortega had engineered a cunning plot for the capture of the submarine.
"What are you trying to do, Fingal?" Matt demanded, as the scoundrel held him helpless in his iron-like grip.
"Trying to even up fer some o' the things you done a spell ago!" roared Fingal. "Stop yer squirmin', or——"
With a fierce effort, Matt succeeded in breaking free. He rose to his knees, only to meet the flint-like fist of Fingal. The terrific blow hurled him backward, and he slid along the sloping deck against the guy rope that supported the small flagstaff, close to the bow.
Fingal jumped after him, caught him by the collar and pulled him back before he could slip from the support of the rope and drop into the sea. The jerk Fingal gave him hurled Matt headfirst against the iron socket in which the base of the staff was secured to the deck. It was a savage blow, and Matt straightened out limply and a wave of darkness rolled over him.
When Matt opened his eyes again, he was in the same room where he and Dick had been confined by Gaines, Speake and Clackett. But there was another prisoner now, for Speake was with Matt and Dick.
Dick, on a stool beside the cot, was rubbing Matt's temples. Across from them, on the other cot, Speake was sitting, nursing a bruise on the side of his face.
"Hard luck, old ship!" muttered Dick ominously. "How are you feeling?"
"None too good," answered Matt.
"You got a crack fore and aft. It's a wonder one of 'em didn't bash in your skull."
"It wasn't the blows I received that's hurting me now, Dick," Matt went on, "but the fact that we were trapped when we thought we were helping a boat load of shipwrecked sailors. Have they captured the boat?"
"Well, I should say! That outfit of pirates swarmed all over her. I was down in the engine room, you know, and, while I knew by the racket that something was happening that wasn't down on the bills, yet I didn't dare leave the motor. After a while the racket died out a little and I called up through the speaking tube to learn what was going on. Some one laughed; then, the next I knew, Fingal came driving Gaines along. A swab trailed after Fingal, and both of 'em had guns. I was ordered up to the periscope room, and Gaines was sent to the motor, the other chap staying with him and keeping the gun aimed at him all the time. Oh, I guess you fellows have got enough of helping the don, haven't you?" and Dick turned to Speake.
"We was a pack of fools," answered Speake.
"What happened to you, Speake?" inquired Matt.
"The same as happened to all the rest," was the growling response. "That was a husky lot o' shipwrecked mariners we picked up! They didn't seem hardly able to crawl aboard, but they woke up considerable as soon as they got their feet on theGrampus'deck. I had it which an' t'other with a chap for'ard o' the connin' tower, and I held my own until Clackett was downed and the man that was goin' for him came at me. Then, o' course, I had to give up. Clackett an' me was sent below at the pistol's p'int. Clackett's in the tank room, and Gaines is in the motor room, both with a couple of the thieves holdin' guns on them an' makin' 'em run the boat. The don's steerin', and we're hikin' right on toward Port Livingston. Oh, what a howlin' mess!"
Matt sat up and bowed his head in his hands for a moment. His brain ached, and he was trying to think and get at the full extent of the disaster.
"It was all a put-up job, matey," remarked Dick.
"That's easy to guess, Dick," returned Matt, lifting his head. "The boat I saw hull down, off on the port side of us, must have been Fingal's schooner, theNorth Star. The schooner was expecting the don along with theGrampus, and was laying to get that crew of rascals aboard of us. Dropping the yawl in the water, the schooner left the boat behind. Oh, I see it all now. But I can't understand this Don Ramon Ortega. This business will open the eyes of a good many people in Belize."
"But what's the upshot of it all? What's the don tryin' to do?"
This from Speake, as he continued to nurse his injury.
"I can smoke Fingal's roll, all right enough," said Dick. "He's playing even with us for what we did on the Izaral River, a few days ago."
"He has captured theGrampus," added Matt, "and probably intends to turn her over to General Pitou."
"An' there wasn't anythin' in that story of the don's?" asked Speake. "It was a pretty good story, an' sounded to me like it might be straight goods."
"The don is helping Fingal," returned Matt, "and the submarine is now in the hands of the five we 'rescued' from the yawl, and the don. There are six of our enemies and only five of us. Naturally, we don't count, being locked up in this steel room; and Gaines and Clackett can't count for much, either, with revolvers staring them in the face whichever way they turn. This is a hard row of stumps for us, pards!"
"An' all owin' to Clackett, an' Gaines, an' me!" mourned Speake.
"There's nothing to be gained thinking over that part of it, Speake," said Matt. "We've got to look this thing squarely in the face and do what we can to recapture the submarine."
"Nothin' we can do!" grunted Speake. "That outfit of roughs have got the whip hand of us, and they're going to keep it. They was wise to keep Gaines an' Clackett to attend to the runnin' of the machinery, an' I guess the don can do the steerin', easy enough."
"I wonder if there was any truth at all in the don's story?" ventured Matt.
"In what part of it, matey?" queried Dick.
"Why, about the revolutionists capturing Port Livingston, and the fort across the river."
"If part o' his yarn's crooked," grumbled Speake, "then I'll gamble the whole of it's crooked. Why, Matt? What difference does that make?"
"Well, if Port Livingston is in the hands of the revolutionists, then we'll be taken there, and not up the Izaral."
"Strike me lucky!" exclaimed Dick, as a sudden thought came to him. "Don Ramon Ortega is in mighty poor business, mates, if he's helping these revolutionists. What a two-faced swab he is! When he talked with us, last evening, he was all against the rebels; now he's for them. What will the Spanish government say to that sort of work?"
"There's something about Don Ramon that's mighty puzzling," said Matt. "He's a scheming scoundrel, though, and it's our business to recapture theGrampus—if we can."
"How'll we go to work, Matt?" asked Speake gloomily. "Every man in Fingal's party is armed. What could five of us do ag'inst six armed men, providin' we was able to bunch together and face 'em?"
At this point, the door leading into the periscope room opened and the don and Fingal stepped through. Matt, Dick and Speake all started up on the entrance of the two men, but the latter carried revolvers, and another armed man stood in the doorway behind them.
"Don't get reckless, you fellows!" warned Fingal. "We ain't particularly anxious to hurt ye, but there's no tellin' what'll happen if you try to climb over us an' git through that door." The burly ruffian turned toward his companion. "Fire away, don," he added, "and tell 'em what you got on your mind."
THE DON'S PROPOSAL.
Before the don could follow Fingal's suggestion and unburden himself of what he wanted to say, the splash and gurgle of water entering the submersion tanks reached the ears of those in the steel room. At the same moment a shiver ran through the boat's fabric and she began to sink.
"What are you doing?" demanded Matt sharply.
"Going under the water," explained the don affably. "We're off Port Livingston and are going to proceed up the Izaral without being seen."
"What's that for? If the town and the fort are in the hands of the rebels, you won't have anything to fear."
"We don't know whether the rebels have captured the fort yet or not," said the don, "and we don't want to take any chances of being sunk by the fort's guns in case they are still in the hands of the enemy."
"If you don't know anything about this boat," said Matt, "you'll get us all into trouble trying to maneuvre it."
"Gaines an' Clackett, I guess," put in Fingal, "'ll keep us from gettin' inter any very serious fix. They're helpin' run the craft, ye know," and Fingal leered cunningly. "Go ahead, don," he added, as the submarine halted its downward plunge and started onward again.
"Motor Matt," said the don, "I have a proposition to make to you and your men. You will find it to your interest, I think, to accept it."
"What's the proposition?" asked Matt curtly.
The more Motor Matt studied Don Ramon, the more puzzling the man became. His English was good, and yet he was undeniably of Spanish descent. Somehow Matt was gathering the idea that the don was a native of Central America, and not of Spain; yet Matt knew that this could not be, for he had heard that the Spanish consul at Belize hailed from Barcelona.
"My friend, Fingal," proceeded the don, "appears to think that you and your men owe him something on account of what happened during your former visit to the River Izaral, and——"
"So they do!" growled Fingal, with a savage frown; "they owe me somethin' not only on account o' that, but on account o' my brother, Jim Sixty. If it hadn't been for them, Jim would never have got nabbed by the United States' gov'ment for filibusterin'. I swore I'd git even with 'em for——"
"Forget that for a little, Fingal," interposed the don. "I've reasoned with Fingal," he went on to Matt, "and he has agreed to let bygones be bygones, providing you fall in with our plans."
He paused, his piercing eyes on the young motorist's face.
"I'm waiting to hear what your plans are," said Matt.
"We captured this boat for the revolutionists," continued the don, "and she will be of great help to General Pitou in his work; but, in order to be as efficient as possible, the craft ought to be manned with her regular crew. So——"
"Then that story you told us about General Mendez, and about the trap Pitou was laying for him, was untrue?"
"Much of it was not the exact truth," the don cheerfully admitted. "General Mendez and his force are not far from the Purgatoire River, but it is he who is laying the trap for Pitou, and not Pitou for him. General Pitou will have to capture the fort at the mouth of the Izaral and be able to turn its guns on General Mendez, or the loyalist forces will drive the rebels into the sea. In order to keep track of Mendez, we need the submarine for scout duty up and down the river. Now, Motor Matt, you are thoroughly familiar with the boat, and our proposal is that you and your men take charge of her and render gallant service for General Pitou. Some of our men, of course, will stay on the boat to make sure that you prove faithful to your promises to us, but that will be a mere formality.
"If you will do this, I promise to pay you the sum, in gold, that I mentioned when talking to you in the harbor at Belize. Furthermore, in the event that General Pitou's uprising is successful, and we make him dictator of the country, you and your friends will share liberally in the division of the spoils. What do you say? You are young men—mere youths, in fact—and such a golden prospect ought to appeal to you."
Matt stared at the don.
"And you," he breathed, "are the Spanish consul at Belize! What would happen to you if they knew, in Spain, how you are meddling with the affairs of a country with which your own is at peace?"
The don laughed.
"I might just as well puncture that bubble here and now," said he. "I am not Don Ramon Ortega, the Spanish consul, but Don Carlos Valdez, the revolutionist."
Matt started back.
"Don Carlos Valdez!" he exclaimed.
"Now, sink me!" cried Dick. "We heard about you in Belize, Don Carlos."
"And what do they say about me in Belize? asked the don.
"Why, that you're the greatest rascal unhung!"
"They say more than that," added Speake wrathfully, "and that you'llbehung, one o' these fine days."
Speake was chagrined and spiteful because of the way he and his mates had been taken in by the plausible revolutionist at the start off. He saw, now, how farsighted Motor Matt was in refusing to have anything to do with the don.
Carlos Valdez smiled ironically.
"What they say doesn't make any material difference," he answered. "I have been in Belize for a week. I walked the streets openly, and no one dared to molest me. Why, I even went to the Spanish consul and asked for a passport. While he was preparing to make it out, I felled him with a blow and left him bound and gagged in his own sitting room. I had to do that, you see, before I dared to call on you, Motor Matt, and impersonate him."
"At any rate," said Motor Matt, "I am glad of one thing."
"And that is?"
"That Don Ramon Ortega is not the villain I know you to be."
"Your opinion counts for as little as does that of the people of Belize," returned the don easily. "You have not answered my question as to whether you and your men would accept our proposal."
"I didn't think it was necessary to answer it," said Matt. "I would blow up theGrampusbefore I would allow her to fall into the hands of General Pitou."
"Better think well before you make a foolish answer like that," struck in Fingal.
"That's my answer, just the same."
"How about the rest of you?" and the don turned to Dick and Speake.
"What Motor Matt says matches my sentiments to a dot," replied Dick.
"Mine, too," added Speake. "If me and my mates had obeyed Motor Matt like we'd ought to have done, we'd never have got into this fix in the first place. It may be a little late in the day, but here's where I begin carryin' out his orders jest as he gives 'em."
"Do you know what this decision means?" queried the don gravely.
"I'm not thinking of that, but of my duty to Captain Nemo, Jr.," said Matt.
"It means," fumed Fingal, enraged at the refusal of Matt and his friends to cast their lot with the revolutionists, "that you'll never live to get back to Belize!"
"Or even back down the river to Port Livingston," supplemented the don. "Presently we are going to tie up at an old landing on the river bank. After that, we will leave you by yourselves until nightfall. This will give you a little more time to think over our proposition. Life is a pleasant thing to young men like you, and you ought not to cast it lightly aside. Come on, Fingal," he finished.
The don and Fingal stepped back into the periscope room, closing and locking the door behind them.
Dick went over to his cot and sat down with a mirthless laugh.
"The old hunks has given us his ultimatum," said he. "We must either run the submarine for the revolutionists, or go to Davy Jones. Pleasant prospect, eh, matey?"
"Wonder if they've batted up the same proposition to Gaines and Clackett?" mused Speake.
"Probably they have," said Matt. "They want to secure the services of the submarine's crew, and Gaines and Clackett are important members of the ship's company."
"What sort of a move would it be," suggested Dick, "to pretend to join the swabs and then, watching our chances, cut and run back to Belize?"
Matt shook his head.
"They wouldn't trust us even if we agreed to join them. Didn't you hear what was said about having an armed guard constantly on the boat, as a 'mere formality'? No, Dick, the best thing for us will be to come out flatfooted and let the rascals know just where we stand. If they attempt to take any desperate measures against us, we will claim the protection of Old Glory."
"What do they care about a piece of bunting?" returned Dick. "See how they ran off that American consul? Why, these revolutionists aren't responsible for anything, matey, and they'll do just what they please."
In his own heart, Matt himself felt that Dick was stating the exact truth.
While the boys and Speake were talking, the turbines could be heard emptying the ballast tanks, and the boat began slowly rising. A little later the boys knew they were on the surface of the river. Steps were heard running along the deck, overhead, and a sound of voices came to them. Then there was a bumping along one side of the hull, a stopping of the motor, and the submarine was at a halt.
"I suppose we're tied up at that bally landing," observed Dick, "and here we're to stay and think matters over until nightfall, as the don put it. By the way, isn't it about time to eat? You and I, Matt, haven't had a mouthful since last night."
The words were hardly off of Dick's lips when the door leading into the periscope room opened and closed. The prisoners caught a glimpse of armed men standing in the other chamber, and then gave their attention to the boy who had entered with a basket.
The lad still had his stocking cap drawn down over his ears, and the collar of his jacket turned up about his throat.
"What have you got?" demanded Speake. "If it's grub, set it down. We was jest wonderin' if your outfit was calculatin' on starvin' us to death."
The boy's actions were peculiar, to say the least. Laying a finger on his lips, he bent his ear to the edge of the door and listened; then, turning around, he jerked off his stocking cap.
"Matt," he whispered excitedly, "don't you know me?"
Matt gazed at the lad's handsome face like one stupefied.
"Ysabel!" he murmured; "Ysabel Sixty!"
"Jupiter!" gasped Speake.
"Great guns!" muttered Dick.
YSABEL SIXTY'S LOYALTY.
The astonishment of all three of the prisoners was overwhelming. Ysabel Sixty, the daughter of Captain Jim Sixty, the captured filibuster, there aboard theGrampus! She was so artfully disguised, too, that the prisoners would never have recognized her had she not taken the pains to reveal her identity.
Ysabel set the basket down on the floor.
"Fingal and all the others except Don Carlos are eating," said she, in a low voice. "The don has gone ashore to hunt for revolutionists. My uncle made me get the meal for him and his men, and then sent me here with something for you."
"You are still a friend of ours, Ysabel?" whispered Matt.
"Always!" the girl breathed.
"Does your uncle, Abner Fingal, know that?"
"Of course not! Why, he doesn't even know I am Ysabel Sixty!" She gave a low, sibilant laugh. "I have fooled him as well as the others."
It hardly seemed possible that the girl could hide her identity from her uncle simply by donning male attire. And yet she looked vastly different in boy's clothes.
"I'll not be able to stay here long," proceeded Ysabel, "so you had better let me do most of the talking. TheNorth Star, Abner Fingal's schooner, lay off Belize part of the day, yesterday. She had been repainted, renamed, and was flying the Cuban flag. No one recognized her as a filibuster's boat. Fingal came ashore and had a talk with Don Carlos, and together they plotted to capture the submarine. And I also plotted," said the girl. "That's how I happen to be here now."
"But how did you learn about the plot?" queried Matt breathlessly, "and how did you manage it?"
"You remember my old friend, Pedro? The man who used to sail on my father's ship, theDolphin?"
Matt nodded.
"Well, as it chanced, Pedro came north on the schooner with Abner Fingal. My uncle values Pedro highly because he was with my father on the brig, and it was from him that Pedro learned that the object of the schooner in going to Belize was to capture the submarine. Pedro was sent ashore at Belize to find four or five white men to help out the plot. He picked up three, and those were all he could get who, according to his ideas, were trustworthy. He called at the house in the evening, just before the schooner was to sail, and talked with me.
"When I learned that Fingal was trying to capture the submarine, and that Don Carlos was planning to help, I was wild to get word to you, and warn you. But this was impossible. You were not at the hotel, Pedro said, and the doctor would not admit any one to talk with Captain Nemo, Jr. I would have gone to the American consul, but Pedro would not let me. He said that if I did such a thing I would get everybody into trouble, himself as well as my uncle. I cared little about Fingal, but I did care a good deal about Pedro. He has always been a true friend, and a great help, to me. If I couldn't warn you, Matt, I made up my mind that I would sail with the schooner and do what I could to aid you in case Don Carlos' snare proved successful.
"Pedro tried to argue me out of that, but I insisted. At last he went to a junk shop in town and bought a suit of boy's clothes for me, and this stocking cap; then he cut off my hair"—the girl shook her head and set the short locks flying—"and I was soon changed into Manuel Ybarra, a small brother of Pedro's. We went out to the schooner in the evening. Fingal was already aboard and waiting for us. After that we sailed south, and, in the first gray of morning, we hove to, and Fingal himself climbed to the masthead with a glass. He watched carefully along our back track, and when he came sliding down to the deck he said loudly, so all could hear, that Don Carlos had succeeded in luring the submarine away from Belize, and that now we must carry out our part of the programme.
"Pedro and three other men were lined up on the deck, and each was given a revolver; then a small boat was put over and the four men got into the boat. Just as they were about to cast off, I jumped in.
"Fingal swore and ordered me back, but Pedro begged so hard for his 'little brother' that I was allowed to stay. As soon as we had cast off from her side, the schooner bore away with all sail set; then our boat was rowed off over the water and the oars were tossed into the sea.
"'We're shipwrecked sailors,' said Fingal, with a laugh. 'Play the part, every man of you! The submarine will pick us up, an' then we'll capture her.'
"My heart turned sick at that, for not until then did I understand what the plan was. I hoped that you would not see us and pick us up; but then, Don Carlos was onthe submarine, and it was certain that he would be on the watch for us. You know what happened after that. Didn't you see me motioning to you to keep away when you were in the conning tower?"
"I saw you motioning, Ysabel," said Matt, "but hadn't the least idea what you meant. You were well disguised, and that stocking cap is just the thing. But be careful! If Abner Fingal should discover who you really are——"
"He won't," she answered. "Pedro is looking after me. I am supposed to be his brother, you know."
"Do you think you can help us recapture theGrampus?"
"That's what I want to do."
"Will Pedro help you?"
She was doubtful.
"Pedro won't do anything to get me into trouble, but whether he would help or not I don't know. You see, Matt, Pedro thought a lot of my father, and he doesn't feel very kindly toward you and your friends. With me it's different. My father was never good to me, but was always beating me and forcing me to tell lies to help out his plans. But," she added, catching herself up, "we must only talk about important things. Pedro is on guard at the door, eating his meal with a revolver on his knee. He will let me stay in here as long as I like, but if Fingal should suspect anything——"
The girl winced and shrugged her shoulders.
"You'd better go now, Ysabel," said Matt. "If Fingal happened to find out who you are, at this time, it would be impossible for you to do anything for us."
"I'd better tell you all I can, that's of importance, while I'm here," insisted the girl, pulling her cap down over her ears. "I may not have so good a chance as this again."
"Where are we, Ysabel?" put in Dick.
"Tied up to an old landing, halfway between the mouth of the Izaral and the place where the Purgatoire flows into the stream."
"Are there any soldiers near here?"
"There are, unless General Pitou has captured the fort. If the rebels have won that, then they're probably all down at the mouth of the river."
"Where's General Mendez?"
"Somewhere near the Purgatoire. He's coming down the river as fast as he can, hoping to fight with the rebels before they can get to the fort."
"Why did Don Carlos go ashore?"
"To find General Pitou. If the general thinks it safe, he may come back with Don Carlos."
"When does Don Carlos expect to get back here?" put in Matt.
"That depends on how far away the rebels are. He may return soon, and he may not return until nearly night."
"About what time is it?"
"Nearly noon. Tell me, Matt, how you think I can help you! I'm not nearly so clever as you are, and you might be able to think of something I could do."
Matt was thoughtful for a moment.
"Where are Gaines and Clackett?" he asked at last.
"They are shut up in the torpedo room. Fingal intends to keep them shut up all the time they are not needed for running the boat."
"By George!" exclaimed Matt.
"What now, matey?" whispered Dick.
"Why, if necessary, one of those fellows could shoot the other out through the torpedo tube! I got out that way once, you remember, in Atlantic City, and theGrampuswas submerged, at that. Here she's on the surface, and the mouth of the tube isn't more than two feet under water!"
"What good would it do for one o' them fellers to be shot out of the boat?" queried Speake. "He'd only find himself in the hands of those outside."
"Well, Speake, if we got a chance to leave here and run the revolutionists off the boat, one of the men from the torpedo room would prove a big help to us. With Don Carlos gone, there are only Fingal, Pedro, and two more against us—and perhaps Ysabel could keep Pedro from taking a very active part in the fighting."
"But there are the guns—consarn 'em!" growled Dick. "What could we do against four, or even three, armed men? They could riddle us before we got close enough to use our fists."
"If I could take the cartridges out of the revolvers," said Ysabel, "wouldn't that help?"
"How could you do that?" queried Matt eagerly. "Aren't the weapons in the men's pockets?"
"There were only four revolvers," went on the girl, "and one of the men gave his to Don Carlos. That leaves only three on the boat. Pedro has one, Fingal has one, and one of the other men has one. If I——"
Just at this point the door opened and the swarthy face of Pedro was thrust in.
"Mujercita!" he called softly.
The girl, with one last, quick look at Matt, hastened from the room. The door was closed and locked, and the prisoners could hear the hoarse voice of Fingal rumbling through the periscope room. Matt glided to the door and listened. A moment later he drew a long breath of relief and turned away.
"I was afraid he might discover her," said he, "but he only came down to borrow some tobacco of Pedro."
"About all we can do is to wait," murmured Speake.
"That's all," said Dick; "wait for something to happen and hope for the best."
"And let's not forget, while we're waiting," added Matt, "that we've got one loyal friend among our captors—and she's as brave as she is loyal."
AN OPPORTUNITY.
The three prisoners were hungry and they lost no time in making an attack on the basket. While they ate they discussed the situation in whispers.
"Did Fingal come down the ladder from the conning tower, mate?" asked Dick.
"I thought so," was the reply, "from the noise he made."
"Did he go back to the deck?"
"I didn't wait to listen."
"If we could git that gang separated," said Speake, "we could lay 'em out one at a time—an' I guess the revolvers wouldn't cut much figure."
"That would be fine, Speake," returned Dick, "but Fingal and his gang are not doing the things we want 'em to."
"If we're to accomplish anything toward recapturing the submarine," chimed in Matt, "we'll have to do it before Don Carlos gets back. He may bring a gang of soldiers with him. Besides, don't forget what's to happen to us at nightfall in case we don't agree to join the revolutionists."
"I'm not pinin' to have my name wiped off the articles," said Speake, with a wry grimace. "For one, I'd rather take long chances tryin' to run the rebels off the boat. It's a heap more comfortin' to get done up that way than by lettin' Fingal an' Pitou an' this Don Carlos do what they please without never liftin' a hand to help ourselves."
"I can't see anything comforting in that proposition, either way," observed Dick. "All I hope is, just now, that Ysabel will be careful, and that Pedro will look after her. Everything depends on her."
"She's a brick!" murmured Matt admiringly.
"And she's doing all this for you, matey!"
"It's for all of us!" declared Matt.
"Don't you never think it," said Speake. "She's runnin' a lot o' risks, an' I wouldn't never have thought a girl could have the grit. But Motor Matt was in danger! That was enough for her to know."
"I wonder how Carl came out with his serenade?" remarked Dick. "Ysabel wasn't at the house, and it's a fair guess that our Dutch raggie got into trouble."
Carl certainly had tumbled into difficulties—but it was not because he hadn't found any one at home.
"What do you suppose Carl is thinkin' aboutus?" said Speake.
"Our disappearance will bother a good many people," answered Matt.
Speake's conscience troubled him.
"I feel like an ornery cur," said he, "over the way Gaines, an' Clackett, an' me acted! Ye remember how mad us three was at Cassidy when he got in such a takin' because Matt was put in charge o' theGrampus? Well, to my notion, we ain't acted any better than Cassidy did."
"You ought to feel cut up," reproved Dick. "The only way you can square yourself, Speake, is by doing a lot to help recapture the ship."
"Jest give me the chance," answered Speake, his eyes flashing, "an' I'll show you what I can do."
The boys finished the food, took a drink all around from the bottle of cold coffee that Ysabel had put in the basket, and then continued their wait for something to happen. They felt better physically, even if they were not more hopeful.
Dick lay back on one of the cots and went to sleep; Speake pulled his hat down over his eyes and leaned against the forward bulkhead; Matt, flat on his back on the other cot, stared upward at the rounded deck, wishing that he could poke a hole through the steel plates and so gain freedom for himself and his friends.
Speake dozed a little. Something white, poked through one of the ventilator holes above his head, floated downward and landed on his knee. He stared at it drowsily, then brushed at it mechanically with one hand. Suddenly he realized that the falling of a scrap of white paper was rather a peculiar circumstance, and snatched it off the floor.
"Matt!" he called.
"What is it?" returned Matt, rising on his elbow and directing his gaze at Speake.
"This dropped down on me!" Speake held up the paper.
Matt was off the cot in a flash and standing at Speake's side.
"When?" he whispered.
"Jest now."
"It was pushed through one of the ventilator openings. It's a note—from Ysabel."
He passed to Dick's side and shook him into wakefulness.
"What's the row?" inquired Dick.
"A note from Ysabel, pushed in to us through one of the holes in the forward bulkhead."
"Keelhaul me!" muttered Dick, smothering his excitement. "Read it, matey! Perhaps she's captured the revolvers."
The note was written in pencil on a ragged scrap of paper. Matt, in a guarded voice, read it aloud:
"'Pedro is asleep at the door. Fingal has gone off on the river bank. The two others are playing cards on the deck. I have Pedro's revolver and have unlocked the door. Now is the time! Capture Pedro and tie him—but don't hurt him. Be quiet—if he makes an outcry all is lost. Hurry!'"
"'Pedro is asleep at the door. Fingal has gone off on the river bank. The two others are playing cards on the deck. I have Pedro's revolver and have unlocked the door. Now is the time! Capture Pedro and tie him—but don't hurt him. Be quiet—if he makes an outcry all is lost. Hurry!'"
Speake pulled off his coat.
"This is bully!" he whispered. "Now we've got a chance."
"It's an opportunity I wasn't expecting," said Matt, pulling off his shoes carefully. "In our stocking feet, fellows! We must not make any noise. While Speake and I are binding Pedro, Dick, you go down and let Gaines and Clackett out of the torpedo room. If we work this right we may be able to get away from here and down the river."
All three of the prisoners were excited, as well they might be. An opportunity offered to save themselves and the boat—success or failure hanging on their quickness and silence.
Advancing to the door, Matt laid his hand on the knob. Slowly he twisted the catch out of its socket, and then inch by inch forced the door open.
Yet, slight though the noise was that accompanied the click of the catch, Pedro heard it. With a startled exclamation he leaped to his feet.
Matt and Speake sprang at him, Matt catching his wrists and Speake throwing an arm about his throat and clapping a hand over his lips.
The odds were against Pedro, and he was helpless; yet, for all that, he managed to squirm about and make considerable noise.
There was a drone of voices overhead, coming down the open hatch. The voices suddenly ceased, and some one was heard floundering over the deck to the top of the tower.
The electric light was not burning in the periscope room, and the only light that entered the chamber came from the hatch. Any one looking downward would not have been able to see anything distinctly except in the immediate vicinity of the bottom of the ladder. Matt, Speake and Pedro, as it chanced, were close to the locker.
"Anythin' wrong down there, greaser!" called a husky voice.
"No, señor," answered Matt, trying to imitate the rough voice of the Mexican.
"Thought I heard you movin' around," said the man above, turning away from the top of the tower.
Pedro was forced down on the locker, and Ysabel glided forward with a piece of rope for bonds and a piece of cloth for a gag. Pedro turned his wild eyes on the girl with startled inquiry and suspicion.
"You will not be hurt, Pedro!" whispered the girl; "don't make a noise—please."
She followed this with some soft words in Spanish. But Pedro, loyal though he undoubtedly was to the girl, continued to struggle. Matt and Speake, however, managed to get him bound and gagged.
"This is only the beginning, Motor Matt," breathed Ysabel, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes bright as stars. "Here is Pedro's revolver—take it."
Matt took the weapon and thrust it in his pocket.
"We can't use firearms," he whispered, "for they make too much noise. Our hope lies in capturing our enemies one at a time, then cutting the cables and dropping down the river. If possible, we must do this before Fingal gets back."
"Where did Dick go?" asked the girl.
"To release Gaines and Clackett. The torpedo-room door is fastened by a bolt on the outside, so he'll have no trouble in getting them out. We'll wait till they come before making our next move."
Matt had hardly finished speaking before Dick came in through the forward door of the room. Clackett followed him—but Gaines was not along.
Matt lifted a warning finger as Dick was about to speak, pointed upward toward the deck and then motioned for Dick and Clackett to come closer.
"Where is Gaines?" he whispered.
"He got out through the torpedo tube, half an hour ago," said Dick.
Matt, as will be remembered, had already thought of this maneuvre. But it was unfortunate that Gaines had put it into effect, in view of what was transpiring.
"What was Gaines going to do?" asked Matt, of Clackett.
"He reckoned he'd go up the river an' try an' find General Mendez," replied Clackett. "We sort o figgered it out between us that some of the soldiers under Mendez could come here and capture the boat and release the rest of us."
Here was an awkward situation, and Matt wrinkled his brows over it.
They could not leave without Gaines. He was taking chances and doing his best to be of service to his comrades, and dropping down the river without him was not to be thought of.
"What shall we do now, matey?" asked Dick.
"Keep on with our plan," answered Matt. "There are two of the scoundrels playing cards on deck. We must get them as safely as we have got Pedro."
"Shall we make a racket and bring them down?"
"They'll both come, if we do that. We can capture them with less noise if they come one at a time."
Ysabel started forward.
"I'll go up the ladder," said she, "and say that Pedro wants one of them. After you capture him, I'll go up after the other."
"Good!" exclaimed Matt. "Get ropes, boys," he added to the others, "and stand ready for some swift and noiseless work."
Ysabel glided to the ladder. Before she could mount, however, some one was heard climbing over the top of the conning tower. As those below looked upward, a pair of booted feet swung down.
"Fingal!" gasped Ysabel, drawing away fearfully.
Matt motioned her out of the room.
"Stand ready for him," he whispered, "as he reaches the bottom of the ladder. The smallest mistake now means failure. Ready!"
Scarcely breathing, Matt, Dick, Speake and Clackett stood waiting for the burly ruffian who, jointly with Don Carlos, was responsible for all their troubles.
EXCITING WORK.
Fingal was a big fellow, and Matt remembered with a shudder the crushing embrace of his huge arms at the time the crew of the submarine were routed. But Matt, with so many to help him, was not worrying over the outcome. What caused him the most concern was the thought that, in spite of their precautions, there would be noise enough to alarm the two men who were playing cards.
Fingal came down the ladder slowly. Fortunately for those below he kept his gaze upward as he descended. When he reached the foot of the ladder his face was toward the after bulkhead of the periscope room, and those who were waiting were behind.
At a signal from Matt the attack was made. Matt himself sprang at Fingal's throat and caught his bull-like neck in a strangling grip. Like a huge animal, Fingal pushed himself around. Speake had one of his arms and Dick the other. Clackett, bending down, caught his feet and jerked them off the floor.
Fighting furiously, Fingal was thus thrown bodily into the hands and arms of Matt, Dick and Speake. They were not expecting to receive the heavy weight, and the huge body crashed to the floor. Matt's grip about Fingal's throat was wrenched loose, and a half-strangled bellow of fury went up from the desperate scoundrel.
Feet stamped the deck. There was no need of a demand from those above as to what was going on, for both the men knew that there was trouble. Fingal would not have bellowed in that fashion if there had not been.
"Never mind the noise, now," panted Matt. "We're in for it, and we must be quick."
One of the other men already had his feet on the ladder. Leaving Dick, Speake and Clackett to handle Fingal, Matt jumped up the ladder, caught the descending feet and flung his whole weight on them.
As a result, the man's hands were torn from the iron rungs, and he and Matt tumbled in a heap on the floor of the periscope room.
Matt came off better than his antagonist, for the latter struck his head against the steering wheel, doubled himself up in a ball, then flung out his limbs convulsively and lay silent and still.
"Look after both of them, fellows!" cried Matt. "I'm going after the other one."
The second of the two men who had been on the deckwas showing more wariness than his companion had done. The abrupt disappearance of his comrade from the top of the ladder had filled him with doubts, and when he saw Matt rushing upward, he must have gained the idea that all the others were captured. Yet, be that as it may, he whirled from the conning tower in a panic and leaped off the boat.
When Matt lifted his head clear of the hatch, a sharp report echoed out, and a bullet struck the sloping side of the conning tower and glanced harmlessly off into the river.
The ruffian was standing on the planks that had formed the old landing. Undeterred by the shot, Matt threw himself out of the tower, gained the rickety wharf at a jump, and raced after the man.
The latter retreated to the bank, turned there, and essayed another shot. A metallic click echoed out, but no report. Again and again the trigger fell uselessly.
With an oath, the fellow hurled the weapon at Matt, faced about, and dashed into the timber.
Matt gave pursuit. Had it not been that Gaines was missing from the boat's complement, Matt would not have chased the fugitive; but Gaines' absence made it necessary for the submarine to remain at the landing until he should return, and if this man got away he would probably spread the news of what had happened and cause a detachment of the revolutionists to charge the boat.
Matt, it will be remembered, was in his stocking feet. The ground over which he was running was covered with sharp stones, and before he had gone a hundred yards he realized that he would have to give up the pursuit.
Turning back, he regained the landing, leaped to the deck of the submarine and bent over the hatch.
"How are you, down there?" he called.
"Finer'n silk!" came the jubilant voice of Speake. "We've got lashings on both men. Where's the other chap?"
"He jumped ashore and got away. Come up here, Dick, you and Clackett. One of you bring a hatchet. Let Ysabel watch the prisoners, and you, Speake, go below and see if everything is in shape for a quick departure."
"Goin' to leave without Gaines, Matt?" asked Clackett.
"Not unless we have to. We're going to hang out here until the last moment."
Dick and Clackett presently showed themselves on deck. Matt had already discovered that theGrampuswas moored to two trees with a couple of cables at the bow and stern. The boat was pointed upstream.
"Cast off the stern cable, Clackett," ordered Matt, "and throw it aboard. One rope is enough to hold us. Go out on the bow, Dick," he added, "and sit there with the hatchet. If you get an order to cut the cable, don't lose any time in carrying it out."
"Aye, aye, matey," replied Dick.
Clackett went ashore and unfastened the rear cable from the tree. Matt drew it in, coiled it, and dropped it down the hatch.
"What am I to do now, Matt?" shouted Clackett.
"Go up the bank and a little way into the woods," answered Matt; "hide yourself and watch for soldiers. If you hear or see any, rush this way and give the alarm to Dick. He'll cut the cable, and then the two of you dodge below as quick as the nation will let you, the last one down closing the hatch after him. Understand?"
"That's plain enough," said Clackett, climbing the bank and vanishing in the timber.
Matt went down into the periscope room and found Ysabel sitting on one of the stools and keeping watch of the prisoners.
Fingal, his great arms twisting fiercely against the ropes and his eyes glaring, lay on the floor. Near him was the other prisoner. The latter had recovered from the blow that had stunned him, and, to judge from his humble appearance, his war-like disposition was entirely gone.
"What shall we do with Pedro, Matt?" asked Ysabel anxiously.
"Does he want to go back with us to Belize? Ask him."
"If he did that, they would probably arrest him for what he has done," said the girl.
She put the question, however, and Pedro shook his head.
"Ask him if he wants us to put him ashore here."
Pedro nodded as soon as Ysabel had translated the words into Spanish.
"Tell him we'll do that before we leave," said Matt, "but that we can't trust him ashore until we are ready to go."
Pedro tried to talk in response to this, and Matt removed the gag for a moment. Turning his face toward Ysabel, Pedro spoke rapidly for a few moments. Ysabel's face became very serious as she listened.
"What is it?" inquired Matt.
"He says that theGrampuswill never be able to leave the river," answered the girl; "that the fort is in the hands of the rebels and that they are planting mines in the river, so close to the bottom that the submarine will strike them if she submerges. If she floats on the surface, then the guns of the fort will sink her."
There was terror in the girl's face as she repeated Pedro's words.
Here was an unlooked-for difficulty, and one that gave Matt the utmost concern.
"Just ask him, Ysabel," said he, "why the rebels planted mines in the river when they knew the submarine was in the hands of their friends? Pedro's story sounds improbable, to me. If it comes to that, we passed the mouth of the river under water, and no one in the fort or the town saw us."
Ysabel talked for a few moments more with Pedro.
"He says," the girl reported finally, "that Don Carlos saw the flag of the rebels flying from the fort by means of the periscope when we ascended the stream; that the don knew there were some submarine mines in Port Livingston, and that he was going to have the soldiers plant them. He was afraid Fingal might try to run away with theGrampus, and intended to pen her in the river."
"Then even these revolutionists can't trust each other!" exclaimed Matt. "With such a lack of confidence as that, if it extends to the rank and file, the insurrection will prove a farce. Just——"
At that moment some one landed heavily on the deck of the submarine. Matt straightened erect and stepped to the foot of the ladder. Looking up, he saw Clackett gazing down.
"There are two men comin', Matt!" reported Clackett. "One of 'em's Don Carlos, an' the other wears a red coat with shoulder straps and has a sword."
"Some officer, I suppose," said Matt. "Come downhere, quick, Clackett, and tell Dick to follow you, but not to cut the cable. Speake!" he called through one of the tubes.
"What is it?" came back the voice of Speake.
"Up here with you! More work."
Speake, tumbling up from below, and Dick and Clackett, dropping down from above, reached the periscope room at about the same time. Matt had been replacing the gag between Pedro's lips.
"Drag the prisoners into the room where they were keeping us," said Matt. "There's going to be more lively work here, and we've got to clear decks for action."
While Speake, Clackett and Dick fell to with a will, half dragging and half carrying the prisoners into the steel chamber off the periscope room, Matt kept close to the periscope and watched the bank above the landing.
Then, just as his comrades finished their work, and returned to his side, he gave vent to an exclamation and whirled away from the periscope table.
"Don Carlos is coming," he whispered, "and General Pitou is with him! Now, at one stroke, we can lay the rebel general by the heels and nip this revolution in the bud. Steady, now! Not a whisper, mind. There are two of them, and we must capture them both."