CAPTURING THE GENERAL.
Matt, on the occasion of his former visit to the River Izaral, had caught a fleeting glimpse of General Pitou. Speake, who had been a prisoner in the general's hands for a brief time, was more familiar with his appearance. Gliding to the periscope table, Speake took a look for himself.
"You're right, Matt," he whispered, "it's the old villain himself."
"I should think he was takin' chances coming so far from camp," remarked Clackett, "and right in the direction of General Mendez and his troops."
"Mayhap," chuckled Dick, "he was expecting to drop down the river in the submarine. Let's not disappoint him, mates. He'll go down, but not with the people he intended to have as companions."
"Hist!" warned Matt.
A deep silence reigned in the periscope room. Voices were heard on the landing, and then a clattering rattle as the general landed on the deck. Don Carlos followed more lightly, and stepped to the conning tower.
"Fingal!" called Don Carlos. "The general is here, and he feels that the prisoners must be dealt with in a summary manner at once. He doesn't think it advisable to wait until nightfall. Better bring them up."
Here, in a moment, a situation was developed which threatened Matt's plan for entrapping Don Carlos and Pitou. The don and the general were not intending to come into the boat, but to wait on the deck while the prisoners were brought up.
"I say, below there!" called Don Carlos, in a louder voice. "Wake up, you! Where's Fingal?"
"Ahoy, don!" bellowed Matt, trying his utmost to imitate the raucous tones of Fingal's voice. "Bring the general down a minute!"
Matt's imitation was fairly good, but not good enough to deceive the keen ears of Don Carlos.
With a yell of alarm, the don sprang ashore.
"This way, general!" he shouted; "hurry! There's something wrong here."
There followed a crash, a rattling slide of some object over the sloping deck of the boat, then a shrill "Pardieu! Sacre, sacr-r-r-e tonnerre!"
Matt rushed up the ladder and looked out of the hatch.
The general was a little man, and he carried a prodigious sword and wore a pair of immense spurs on his cavalry boots. As near as Matt could judge, from what he saw, the general had tried to leap ashore and his spurs had caught in one of the guy ropes. Instead, therefore, of leaping, he fell in a heap, and had clattered and banged along the deck until he was caught and held between the side of the boat and a pile that formed part of the wharf.
The general was seeking in vain to extricate himself from his difficulties. Every time he tried to get up, his boots would slip on the rounded plates, and he would sit down on the sharp points of his spurs.
The air was fairly blue in his immediate vicinity, and a perfect bedlam of epithets went up from him. Don Carlos, seeing Matt in the top of the tower, guessed rightly that the prisoners had released themselves in some manner. The don did not return to assist the general, but danced about on the bank, tossing his arms frantically and shouting for him to make haste.
The general was more than anxious to oblige, but fate was against anything like haste. The sharp points of his spurs galled him, and when his spurs ceased from troubling, his long sword got between his legs and tripped him.
Matt had abundant time to slide over the top of the conning tower, grab the general by the collar of his red coat and pull him erect on the ridge-like spine of the deck.
With a howl of wrath, Pitou backed up against the conning tower, drew his sword, threw his left arm over his face and proceeded savagely to carve slices out of the air.
The situation was serious, from several points of view, but Matt, for all that, could hardly repress a laugh.
Then, to crown the ignominy that was being heaped upon the general, Speake suddenly hoisted himself above the top of the tower, noted the situation, reached out calmly and passed his arms about the general's body under the shoulders.
The next moment Matt had a glimpse of a red coat, a pair of cavalry boots, and flashing spurs being elevated and dragged down into the maw of the tower.
It was a tragic disappearance—tragic for the general—for, in this inglorious manner, he was leaving the scene of his military exploits.
As soon as Matt got below he found his friends enjoying the general as much as he had done. Clackett had taken his sword, Speake had pulled off his boots, and Dick was sitting on the captive's breast, pinning him to the floor while he affixed cords to his wrists and ankles.
"Fer goodness' sake," cried Speake, "get somethin' between his jaws! He's chatterin' more'n a cage o' monkeys."
Ysabel stepped forward with a bandage, and the general was soon silent. Dick finished by dragging him intothe prison chamber and dropping him down beside Fingal.
"Oh, what a fine general it is!" laughed Dick. "And he was trying to make himself dictator of the country! I wonder what sort of a population they have here, to let a little wasp like that go on the warpath and make trouble!"
"He is a little wretch!" exclaimed Ysabel, with flashing eyes.
"And that's the military phenomenon your uncle, Abner Fingal, was trying to make you marry!" exclaimed Dick, suddenly recalling a half-forgotten episode in Ysabel's life.
The girl flushed crimson.
"Never!" she breathed fiercely.
"If it hadn't been for his spurs and his sword," said Matt, "he would have been able to get away. But we're strangely reckless, friends," he added, "to amuse ourselves with the general when we are in such desperate plight. We can't leave here until Gaines gets back, and not only has one of Fingal's men escaped us, but Don Carlos has likewise got away. Both will carry the news of what we have done to the camp of the rebels—and you can imagine what will happen when the rebels hear that we have got their general below decks. We'll have the entire army about our ears—and that won't do; at least, not until we have Gaines with us. After that, we can close the hatch, sink below the surface and glide down-stream without——"
Matt paused. He suddenly remembered what Pedro had said about the submarine mines at the mouth of the river.
"What's taken you aback, matey?" spoke up Dick. "You act as though you had just thought of something."
"We may have a hard time getting out of the river," returned Matt. "Pedro told Ysabel that the rebels had planted mines in the river bed, close to the fort, and that they were so low in the water we would probably strike them if we tried to pass the fort submerged. Again, if we attempt to gain the gulf by keeping on the surface of the river, the cannon in the fort will bombard us."
"A plague on their mines and their cannon!" cried Dick recklessly. "We'll run past the fort. If the soldiers are all as able as their general, they couldn't hit us with grape and canister."
"Well, that's a bridge for us to cross at a later time," said Matt. "Just at present we have Gaines to think about. He ought to have got back by this time. Clackett, go back to your post in the woods and keep a sharp watch for soldiers. We'll surely have a visit from them now. Up on deck with your hatchet, Dick, and stand ready to cut the cable at the first sign of an attack."
"Aye, aye," responded Dick, picking up the hatchet. "I think, matey, we could capture the whole rebel army if it came our way."
"We've had one experience with the rebel army, Dick," said Matt, "and it was far from pleasant. Let's not repeat the experience. Climb for the deck, and——"
Events were happening for the young motorist and his chums that day! They were coming like the rapid reports of a Gatling gun, and hardly was one issue met and vanquished before another was raised.
Dick and Clackett were on their way up the ladder when a rattle of musketry reached the ears of those in the submarine. It came from the direction of the bank, and was followed by loud cries and a tremendous thrashing among the bushes.
"Hurry!" cried Matt. "Don Carlos must have met a detachment of Pitou's army and have headed them this way! We can't wait any longer for Gaines! Up with you and cut the cable!"
Clackett stepped off the ladder to make room for Matt, who sprang to follow Dick aloft.
When Dick reached the deck, he gave a shout of astonishment.
"Lively, matey!" he called.
When Matt was able to see what was going on, he was as greatly surprised as Dick had been.
Coming down the bank, and traveling as fast as his long legs could carry him, was Gaines. He was clad only in shirt and trousers, and his bare feet were bleeding from their contact with the sharp stones. Unmindful of this trying discomfort, he rushed down the bank with flying leaps, while bushes crackled behind him and little wreaths of smoke rose upward, marking the discharge of firearms.
Matt rushed along the deck and caught the hatchet out of his chum's hand.
"Go to the engine room, Dick," said he quickly, "and take charge of the motor. Send Clackett to the tank room. Let Speake take the wheel until I come. Submerge when I give the word, and do itquick!"
It was no time for hesitation, and Ferral darted back down the hatch.
OFF FOR THE GULF.
It was easily seen that Gaines was nearly spent. His breath tore through his lips in gasps, and when he reached the edge of the wharf, he fell there, unable to roll over the edge and drop down on the deck of theGrampus.
Out of the bushes at the top of the bank came the foremost of the pursuing soldiers. Fortunately for Matt and Gaines, they were armed with muzzle-loaders, and were frantically getting another charge into the barrels.
Dropping the hatchet, Matt leaped to the wharf, caught Gaines and pulled him down on the deck; then, springing back, he picked up the hatchet and severed the cable with a blow.
The bow of the submarine caught the current, swung farther out into the stream, then whirled around and started away. This placed the conning tower between Matt and Gaines, and several bullets hit the tower and glanced singing into the air.
"You're all right, Gaines," said Matt, bending over the motorist. "You got out of that fix——"
"By the skin of my teeth!" panted Gaines. "Oh, what a run! I never ran so fast, and so far, and over so many stones and briers, before in my life. I thought, a dozen times, they had me."
"Hard luck that you should have run into the rebels when you were looking for the soldiers of General Mendez."
"Rebels?" cried Gaines. "Why, Matt, those fellows weren't rebels. They were the loyalist soldiers!"
"The troops of General Mendez?"
"Yes."
"Then," queried Matt angrily, "why were they chasing you, and shooting at you?"
"I give it up. They must have taken me for one of the rebels—possibly they thought I was General Pitou."
"They couldn't have thought that," answered Matt. "The general is only about half your size."
"Clackett told you why I got out through the torpedo tube?"
"Yes. But how did you ever do it without being seen by Fingal and his men?"
"I was shot along upstream, and straight into the bank. Fingal was sitting on the deck at the time, and the sudden heave of the forward end of the boat drew his attention, but he didn't see me. As soon as I could I got up the bank, but the compressed air had made me dizzy and I was obliged to rest before I could travel. After I got started I found that I couldn't go fast on account of my bare feet. I must have been about a mile away before I saw any soldiers. There was a straggling column of them, and they appeared to be the vanguard of an advancing army. They were Mendez's men, and I was pleased a lot, because I was sure I could get them to go back with me and help recapture the submarine.
"When I started toward them, though, they began to shoot and to run toward me. I couldn't stop and explain, for I wasn't at all sure that my explanation would be accepted. So all I could do was turn and see how quick I could get back over the ground. That's about all, Matt. But how did you get clear? It was a surprise to see you on the boat. I was expecting to be met by Fingal and his gang."
"That's too much to tell just now, Gaines. We're all free, however, and all together once more. We have been waiting for you."
"What became of Fingal?"
"He's a prisoner."
"Good! Any more prisoners?"
"General Pitou——"
"General Pitou!"
"Yes; and one of Fingal's men, and another who is more a friend of Ysabel Sixty's than he is of Fingal's."
"What about Ysabel Sixty?"
"She's below, too."
"Where did she come from?"
"She was one of those we took out of that yawl. We all thought she was a boy until she told us who she was. We owe our escape to her."
While sitting on the deck, Gaines had been slowly recovering his strength. He was still muttering dazedly over Matt's amazing disclosures, when Speake showed himself at the hatch.
"You fellows better come below!" he called. "Dick said you wanted the boat submerged, Matt, an' I guess that the quicker we do it the better. There's an outfit of black soldiers, dead ahead, waiting for us."
Matt whirled around and allowed his eyes to follow the direction of Speake's pointing finger.
On a shelf-like projection of the high bank, perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead, was a group of rebels. They could be seen only indistinctly, but it was apparent from their actions that they were waiting for theGrampusto come within good range.
"Climb for the hatch, Gaines!" ordered Matt. "We've got to get below the surface. If we stay out here, while we're passing those soldiers, they'll shoot us off the deck."
Gaines got to his feet and walked painfully to the tower. After he had climbed in, and vanished, Matt followed, closing the hatch behind him.
"Fill the ballast tanks, Clackett!" called Matt, through the tank-room tube. "About ten feet will do, just so the periscope ball is awash."
A moment more and the submarine began to settle downward.
"What are you going to do when we get near the fort, Matt?" asked Speake.
"I don't believe the rebels have had time to plant any submarine mines," said Matt. "It takes some time to do that, and not enough time has elapsed since Don Carlos reached the fort and reported that the submarine had been captured. We'll pass the fort under water, and chance the mines. Better that than running on the surface and being bombarded."
Patter, patter came a ringing hail on the deck.
"Ah!" cried Gaines, "the soldiers are taking a whack at us!" He laughed derisively. "I guess we can stand as much of that as they want to give us. Their lead slides from the deck like water off a duck's back."
Patter, patter—smash!
"Great spark plugs!" cried Matt. "What was that? Something broke."
"The periscope ball!" gasped Speake. "They've put the periscope out of commission. Empty the tanks!" he yelled into the tank-room tube.
The periscope table reflected nothing of the treacherous channel along which the current and the propeller were carrying theGrampusat a terrific pace.
It was necessary to come to the surface as quickly as possible and use the conning-tower lunettes.
"Reverse your engine, Dick!" cried Matt to the motor room. "Full speed astern!"
The engine was instantly reversed, but not until the submarine had run into some obstruction, halting her with a jar that threw all her passengers off their feet.
For a moment the silence was broken only by the hum of the fiercely working cylinders, and the splash and bubble of the current as it met the obstruction of the huge steel shell.
"Cut out the turbines!" yelled Matt; "empty the tanks by compressed air. Full speed astern, Dick! Every ounce of power now!"
"What's happened, do you think, Matt?"
The question came from Ysabel. She had been sitting on the locker in the periscope room, watching eagerly all that had taken place.
"The river winds about a good deal, Ysabel," Matt answered, "and we have probably run into the bank. When the periscope went out of commission it prevented us from keeping track of our course. Ah!" he added, noticing that the propeller was dragging them against the current and away from the bank, and that they were rising toward the surface. "We'll do, now."
"But we can't pass them cannon on the surface," observed Speake.
"There's nothing else for it, Speake," answered Matt, "but a dash straight for the gulf. We'll have to keep to the surface, and if the rebels are able to aim straight, they're going to give us a lively time."
Matt relieved Speake in the conning tower. With his eyes against the lunettes, the king of the motor boys kept keen watch ahead as turn after turn of the river unfolded before the racing boat.
At last they came close to a bend on the opposite side of which Matt knew there was a straightway stretch of water leading to the gulf.
He signaled the motor room for full speed astern once more, then slowed down until the backward pull of the propeller just balanced the rush of the current, theGrampushanging stationary in mid-stream.
"Gaines," called Matt, "are you well enough to take the engine? I want Dick up here with me."
"Sure," answered Gaines.
"Then go down and send him up."
Dick reached the periscope room in a few moments.
"Dick," said Matt, "our periscope is out of commission and we've got to pass the fort on the surface of the river. We could wait until night. That would give the rebels less of a chance at us, but it would also make our dash for the gulf a good deal more dangerous. The daylight has advantages as well as disadvantages, and so has the night. What do you say?"
"I'm for running their bally old fort," answered Dick. "We'll go so fast they can't hit us."
"Get the Stars and Stripes out of the locker, Dick," said Matt. "We'll haul it up to the staff as we pass and see if it commands their respect."
Matt threw open the conning-tower hatch. The next moment, with his body half exposed above the hatch, he rang for full speed ahead.
As theGrampusstarted on the last leg of her dangerous voyage, Dick forced his way up beside his chum.
"Give me room, old ship," said he, between his teeth. "I'm going out on deck. If the flag commands any respect, it will be under my personal supervision."
"Run up the flag and then get back below," answered Matt, squeezing to one side of the tower so that Dick could pass.
Dick had kicked off his shoes and thrown aside his hat. Stripped for action, he bent the flag to the halyards as the submarine swept onward toward the threatening wall of the fort.
RUNNING THE BATTERY.
Signs of activity showed around the fort as theGrampusrushed down toward it. Soldiers with rifles appeared on the walls, and the muzzles of the cannon were being slowly depressed in order to get the boat under a drop fire.
"They're going to let us have it—hot blocks, matey!" called Ferral, still working with the flag.
"Get the bunting up and return below!" ordered Matt.
"I suppose you think, matey, that you're the only one who's privileged to show himself while the rebels are shaking out their loads at us."
"I don't want you to expose yourself to needless danger, Dick," said Matt.
"Danger!" Dick gave vent to a scornful laugh. "I don't think the greasers can shoot. Let's give 'em a chance at us and see if——"
Dick was interrupted by a hoarse boom!
Four cannon commanded the river side of the fort, and four the bay side. It was one of the guns on the river side that had spoken. A round shot plunged into the water on the port side of the boat, sending a jet of spray high into the air.
"I told you so!" yelled Dick, and shook his fist at the fort.
As he looked upward he saw three soldiers on the wall getting ready to shoot.
Boom! Boom!
Two more cannon were fired, almost at the same time. The solid shot plunged into the water altogether too close to the boat for comfort.
"Up with the colors, Dick!" shouted Motor Matt; "let's see if they dare fire on that flag!"
Dick hauled up the flag. As the gay little banner caught the breeze and opened out, a crack of rifles was heard from the fort.
The flag fluttered sharply.
"What do you think of that!" roared Dick, once more shaking his fist upward in the direction of the fort; "they've put a hole through the flag. Oh, strike me lucky! If it was the British flag they treated like that, an army would march through the country before the scoundrels were a month older."
"They're an irresponsible lot, anyhow," said Matt. "Besides, we've got General Pitou below, and General Mendez will have an easy time of it when he gets here with his army. The uprising is as good as squelched. If anything——"
A perfect roar of guns echoed from the hill. With a crash the periscope mast went by the board, and the round shot caused the water to bubble and boil all around the submarine.
"They've got a grouch against that periscope, old ship!" laughed Dick.
"We'll have to have a new mast and ball as soon as we get back to Belize," said Matt.
Just then he guided theGrampusin a wide sweep around the headland to the left of the river mouth.
"A moment more," said Dick, "and we'll have the town between us and the fort. They're slow at loading those old carronades. Never saw so many butter fingers! Those fellows' hands must be all thumbs. If——"
Dick did not finish his sarcastic remarks. Just then there was a tremendous explosion just behind the submarine. A column of water arose high in the air and, descending in a huge wave, carried the stern of the boat under and threw the bow high in the air. The water all around was a veritable caldron.
Frantic cries came from within the hull. Matt, owing to the almost vertical inclination of the steel hull, was hurled out of the conning tower and came into violent collision with Dick, who was clinging with a life-and-death grip to the flagstaff guys.
For a second theGrampusheaved and tossed on the troubled waves, then righted herself buoyantly and drove ahead.
Matt picked himself up and climbed hastily back into the conning tower. He was sore and bruised, but he realized that he could not leave the submarine to steer herself.
"What was that, old ship?" cried Dick, rising to his knees and lifting a pale face upward.
"It must have been a submarine mine," answered Matt, in a voice that shivered perceptibly.
"A mine!" returned Dick. "But it explodedbehindus! If we set it off, why didn't it explode under us and blow us to smithereens?"
"It must have been a mine of the floating variety—a contact mine which was out of working order. We passed over it; and then, when we were safely out of the way, the pesky thing let go."
Dick Ferral's face grew even paler than it had been. As the dread import of Matt's words dawned on him, he realized the close call the submarine and all her passengers had had.
"Dowse me!" Dick muttered, getting slowly to his feet and rubbing his head, "I never want to get so close to kingdom come as that again! Why, Matt, we couldn't have done that trick once in a thousand times."
"We did it this time, anyhow," answered Matt quietly. "A miss is as good as a mile, Dick. Better go below and explain to our friends."
Dick staggered back and climbed into the tower, and his face was still white as he dropped off the ladder into the periscope room.
Clackett, Speake and Ysabel crowded around him.
"What happened?" cried Clackett. "The old catamaran turned a regular handspring; then she stood on her propeller for about a minute and seemed to be thinking of going down to stay."
Dick explained in a low voice what had happened, sitting on the locker and almost overcome by the narrow escape of the boat and her living cargo.
Speake began to shake; Clackett rubbed a dazed hand across his eyes; and Ysabel, dropping on one of the low seats, buried her face in her hands.
"Matt!" she gasped, looking up; "how can he stay up there in the conning tower after such a hairbreadth escape as that?"
"Matt?" returned Dick. "Why, he's as calm as a day in June. He's not even ruffled. He——"
"Listen!" called Clackett. "Matt's saying something."
"Speake!" came the voice from the conning tower.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Speake.
"Get to work on your electric stove, providing it wasn't smashed by that somersault we turned, and see if we can't have a piping-hot meal. Ysabel will help you."
"That's what he's thinking of," muttered Dick, "something to eat. Well, my old raggie has got more nerve than I have."
While Speake and Ysabel were getting supper ready, Dick and Clackett went into the prison room and looked at the men confined there.
They were all lying in an indiscriminate heap near the after bulkhead.
There was a chorus of wild gurgling behind the gags, and Dick and Clackett set to work and laid the prisoners around the room in something like order. The overturned cots were placed upright, and Pedro was laid on one, and the unknown member of Fingal's gang was placed on the other. Fingal and the general were left lying on the hard floor.
"The general," remarked Clackett, poking him in the ribs with the toe of his boot, "was goin' to take care o' us in a summary fashion. He couldn't hardly wait till nightfall, the general couldn't. Ain't he a nice-lookin' specimen, Dick?"
"He's the worst-looking swab I ever saw!" averred Dick. "He was all sword and spurs, and he didn't know how to use 'em. That's the reason he got captured. I guess he'll be hung, fair enough. He ought to be hung, anyhow, and he would have been if he had fallen into the hands of General Mendez. We ought to have put him ashore to take the place of Gaines. We robbed the soldiers of one victim, and we should have given them another."
"I tell ye what we ought to have done," averred Clackett.
"Out with it, mate."
"We ought to have laid all these here prisoners out on the deck when we was passing that fort."
"Sink me," cried Dick, "but that was a bright idea. But," and Dick's face fell, "like a good many bright ideas it came too late."
"With them fellers on the deck," said Clackett, waxing eloquent over his afterthought, "I'll bet somethin' handsome we could have run past that fort and never been fired at once."
"Like enough. But we're past the fort, and we're right side up with care, and we've got Motor Matt to thank for it all. Let's go back and see how near it is to supper time."
THE "SEMINOLE."
All night long theGrampusfelt her way up the coast. Clackett acted as pilot some of the time, and Matt "spelled" him in two-hour watches. Neither was very well acquainted with the coast, and it was necessary to proceed slowly.
The electric projector was turned against the forward lunettes, and, with this trail of light stretching before them, theGrampusplowed her way through the breaking seas and safely escaped the reefs that lined her course.
Morning found the submarine still several hours from Belize.
Ysabel and Speake got breakfast, and while it was being eaten a cry of "Sail, ho!" came from Clackett, who was in the tower.
"Where away?" called Matt, only passively interested.
"Dead ahead," answered Clackett. "But I ought to have said 'Smoke, ho!' as the craft is a steamer."
"Which way is she heading?"
"Toward us."
"Then probably she's some Costa Rica fruiter."
Matt went on with his eating. Dick was below, standing his trick at the motor in order to give Gaines a chance to eat and rest.
"We're going back to Belize," said Gaines humbly, "and I feel like a criminal, caught and carried back to jail."
"Why so?" inquired Matt.
"Why, because Speake, Clackett and I got theGrampusinto that mess of trouble. She's had more narrow escapes this trip than she ever had since she was launched—and when we listened to the don you'd have thought we were off on a little pleasure excursion."
"I feel mighty tough myself," put in Speake.
"So do I," cried Clackett from the conning tower.
A little of the conversation had drifted up to him—enough so that he could catch the prevailing sentiment of the remarks.
"Don't fret about what you can't help, men," said Matt.
"But what will Cap'n Nemo, Jr., say?" said Gaines.
"Why, you said he'd be glad we went, after we cameback and reported," said Speake. "Have ye changed yer mind, Gaines?"
"I've changed my mind a good many times since we set off on this cruise," replied Gaines.
"I don't believe the captain will find any fault with you," said Matt. "I'll do what I can to smooth the thing over."
"It's like you to do that," returned Gaines gratefully. "You were the same with Cassidy, that other time when he came in from the River Izaral, and I remember I thought you were rather too easy on him."
"We all thought that," said Speake. "And I'm free to say that I think Matt's too easy on us."
"That bag with the gold pieces was left down in the torpedo room," went on Clackett.
"It was?" queried Matt, deeply interested.
"Yes. I left it there. I wouldn't have touched it with a ten-foot pole."
"That will pay for a new periscope ball and mast," said Matt, "and for the provisions and gasoline we used up on this trip. Taking it all together, we've had a very successful cruise——"
"Hot and lively," put in Speake.
"And short," added Gaines; "that's the best part of it. If it had kept up much longer, I'd have been down with heart failure. We not only had a close call in the matter of losing the ship to Fingal and his gang, but likewise in the matter of that submarine mine. My nerves are in rags, and I hope Nemo, Jr., isn't going to sit down on us too hard. That would be about the last straw!"
"Hard lines that we couldn't have nabbed Don Carlos," wailed Speake. "I'd have taken particular pleasure in herding him with the rest of our prisoners."
"We've got Pitou," said Matt, "and he's of more importance. There——"
"Hello, down there!" came from Clackett.
"What now, Clackett?" sang out Matt.
"That steamer's a warship—I've just been able to make her out. By jing, I believe she's theSeminole!"
The announcement aroused a commotion.
"Make way for us to get out on deck, Clackett!" called Matt. "If she's theSeminole, I want to speak her."
Matt, Speake, Clackett and Ysabel clustered on the forward deck near the conning tower.
"Get the code book and the signal flags and the binoculars," cried Matt. "She's got signals going up at her gaff and wants to talk to us."
Speake went below for the required articles and, after fifteen minutes of study and work, Matt and his friends learned, to their surprise, that theSeminolehad put in at Belize the day before and had been sent by the American consul to find the submarine. There was so much to be said that signal flags could not convey that the cruiser hove to and had theGrampuscome around under her lee.
In this manner the submarine was able to come quite close—so close that Matt and Dick could see their tow-haired chum on the cruiser's bridge. Carl picked up a megaphone and hurled the following at his friends:
"Ah, dere, bards! How you vas? You t'ink id vas some shmardness to run avay from me, eh? Vell, I haf peen having some hot dimes so vell as you. Dere is anodder seat oof drouple pesides Bort Lifingston und der——"
Just there the captain grabbed the trumpet out of Carl's hands to do a little talking that amounted to something.
"We've started for the Izaral River to look for you," called the captain.
"How did you know where we had gone?" asked Matt.
"Don Ramon Ortega furnished the clue to the American consul at Belize."
"Where did Don Ramon get the clue?"
"Your Dutch pard helped—but he'll tell you about that later. What's the matter with your periscope?"
"Bombarded by revolutionists."
"Great Scott! Where?"
"Off Port Livingston."
"If those fellows to the south don't capture that little scoundrel, Pitou, before long, some of the bigger nations ought to interfere."
"He's captured," said Matt.
"Is that so? I didn't think Mendez would ever do it."
"He didn't. We're the ones!"
"Well, well! How did you manage?"
"The general got tangled up in his spurs, and before he could get clear we snaked him below decks."
A roar of laughter came through the cruiser's megaphone.
"He's not the only prisoner we've got," went on Matt. "Fingal is below!"
"Bully! We want him. Perhaps we had better take all your prisoners, eh?"
"We'd like to get rid of them."
"Well, stay where you are and we'll send a boat."
"You mustn't let Pedro go, Matt!" exclaimed Ysabel.
"That's so," said Matt. "Suppose you go down, little girl, and set Pedro free. Send him to the torpedo room and tell him to wait there until the cruiser is gone."
Ysabel vanished into the tower.
Meanwhile the cruiser had been clearing away a boat. When she hove alongside the submarine, Carl Pretzel, wearing a grin that could have been tied behind his ears, was sitting in the bow.
"I vill go mit you part oof dis groose, anyvay," he whooped. "Drow some lines so dot I may come apoard."
A line was thrown and Carl was heaved from the rocking rowboat to the submarine's deck. He threw his arms around Matt and almost hugged him over the side of theGrampus.
"I vas so habby as I don'd know!" he bubbled. "I t'ought you vas gone for goot, und dot I don'd vas going to see you some more. Dere iss a lod to dell, I bed you, und——"
"We haven't time to tell anything just now, Carl," said Matt. "As soon as we get rid of our prisoners we'll have a little leisure."
Carl restrained himself, assisted in the work of getting the prisoners up and transferred, and then watched while the launch pulled back to the cruiser with its melancholy load.
"What will you do with Pitou, captain?" called Matt through his megaphone.
"Turn him over to the government of that country down there to be punished for running off the American consul, and for his many other outrages against peaceable Americans."
"What do you think the government will do with him?"
"Firing squad at sunrise," was the laconic response.
"What about Fingal?"
"Our country will take care of him. He'll make a goodcellmate for his brother, Jim Sixty. Sorry you didn't capture Don Carlos Valdez. The governor at Belize would like to lay hands on him. He made an unprovoked attack on the Spanish consul, and, if caught, would do time for it."
By that time the launch had got back to the ship's side, and Matt, bidding the captain of the cruiser a hearty good-by, started theGrampusonward toward Belize.
Speake took the wheel for a while, and the three chums were able to enjoy a quiet little talk together. While they were at it, the door of the prison room opened and Ysabel Sixty stepped out. Carl almost fell off his seat.
"Iss dot a shpook vat I see?" he mumbled, staring at the girl, "oder iss id Miss Sixdy, der peaudiful maiten vat I know so vell?"
"Don't be foolish, Carl," smiled Ysabel.
"Foolishness iss natural mit me—I vas porn dot vay. I see somepody on der teck oof der supmarine, ven ve first come glose, und I t'ought id looked like you in der face, aber dose poy's clothes make some greadt shanges. How id vas, anyhow?"
"Look here, Carl," said Matt, "did you borrow a guitar from a fellow at the hotel the night the submarine left Belize?"
Carl proceeded to work up quite a temper.
"You bed you!" he cried, "und vat you t'ink? Dot feller vas some shkinflinds. He make me pay six tollar for dot kiddar! Yah, so helup me! Vy, I ged him for two tollar by any shdore in der Unidet Shdates vat I know. Dot's right. Six tollar! Dot's vat he make me pay."
"What happened to the guitar?"
"Vell, I hit some pulltogs mit id ofter der headt, und dot kiddar vas proke in a lod oof bieces."
"How did you come to smash the guitar like that?"
"A fellar set der tog on me."
"Why?"
"Pecause I vas singing some songs unter a vinder oof a house vere I made some misdake. You see," Carl explained, "I t'ought id vas Miss Sixdy's house, aber I vasn't far enough down der shdreed und aroundt der gorner. It vas der house oof a feller vat hat a cross tisposition. He pour vater on my headt, und set der tog on me, und I haf plendy oof drouples. Aber oof id hatn't peen for dot, Matt, I vouldn't haf found der don, und vouldn't haf learned vat he hat to say."
"Tell us about that, Carl," said Matt.
Thereupon Carl turned loose and told all about his disastrous serenade, and how he climbed into the premises of Don Ramon Ortega, found the don bound and gagged in his sitting room, released him, and then hurried with him to the hotel to find Matt, and then to the landing, only to discover that the submarine had left the harbor.
"Afder dot," proceeded Carl, "der gonsul vas der feller for us. He say dot derSeminolevould be in der harpor in der morning, und dot he vould haf her go und look for der supmarine und Modor Matt. Und dot vas vat he dit, und py shinks I vent along mit meinseluf. Now, den, you fellers shpin some yarns und dell me all aboudt eferyding. I vant id all, py shinks, und mit nodding lefdt oudt."
Carl got every detail, and by the time the boys were through straightening the various events out in his mind, Speake was ringing the motor-room jingler for less speed, and signaling for anchors.
"Belize!" he called. "We're at our old berth. Cut out the talk, down there, and make ready to go ashore. Let Carl and Dick be the anchor watch, Matt, for you know that Clackett, Gaines and I have business with Captain Nemo, Jr."
CONCLUSION.
Captain Nemo, Jr., made an astonishing rally during the night theGrampuswas creeping slowly up the shore of British Honduras. He awoke from a refreshing slumber, sound of mind and with an optimistic outlook on life which boded good things for Speake, Gaines and Clackett.
The doctor, when he called, shook his hand in congratulation.
"You are doing better than I dared to hope, captain," said he.
"Can I talk business, doctor?" asked the captain.
"As much as you like. Keep on with the same medicine, Cassidy," the doctor added to the mate; "I don't think we can improve on that."
As soon as the doctor had gone, Cassidy made a confession which he had been keeping stored away in his mind for several days. It was a confession of his treachery toward Motor Matt and the rest of his mates aboard theGrampusduring the other cruise south to rescue the American consul.
Cassidy did not spare himself, but told the astonishing facts fully and in detail.
Captain Nemo, Jr., listened in pained surprise. For several minutes after Cassidy finished he did not speak.
"If you're going to begin drinking again, Cassidy," said the captain, "I suppose we ought to part company."
"I've taken my last drink," declared Cassidy.
"Do you mean it?"
"I do."
"And Motor Matt, on his way back from the River Izaral, put you back in the ship as mate?"
"Yes."
"Well, whatever Motor Matt does is good enough for me. If you were put there as mate, then you stay there."
"Thank you, sir," said Cassidy, shaking his captain's hand.
At that moment a rap fell on the door. Cassidy opened it, and Gaines, Speake, Clackett and Motor Matt walked into the room.
"Well, well, Matt!" cried Captain Nemo, Jr., his face brightening wonderfully at sight of the young motorist, "this is a pleasure, I must say! You've brought the entire crew of theGrampuswith you, eh?"
"Not quite all of them," laughed Matt. "Cassidy was here, taking care of you, and we left Dick and Carl aboard for an anchor watch."
"You fellows act as though you had something on your minds," observed the captain, giving the three members of the crew a curious look.
"That's what we have, sir," answered Gaines. "We have a confession to make."
"Confession!" muttered the captain. "This seems to be my morning for hearing confessions. Well, go ahead."
Thereupon Speake, Gaines and Clackett, on their part, told the captain exactly what had taken place during this second trip to the River Izaral. Captain Nemo, Jr., wasdumfounded. Pursing his thin lips, he leaned back in his chair and watched and listened with the utmost attention.
"So," said he cuttingly, when the recital was done, "Motor Matt refused to take my boat south, in response to the request of this scoundrelly don, and you locked Matt and Dick in the storage room of the submarine and went off whether they would or no! And you called Matt out of the room to fix the motor and keep the boat from going on the reefs; and you picked up a supposedly shipwrecked crew out of a boat, and the crew turned on you and captured theGrampus; and, with the aid of Miss Sixty, Motor Matt and his friends recovered the boat, captured Fingal, Pitou and some others, and turned them over to the cruiserSeminole—all of which would not have happened had not you, Speake, Gaines and Clackett acted in an insubordinate and mutinous manner. What had I ought to do with them, Matt?"
"They behaved finely during the fighting and while we were running down the river, past the fort," replied Matt, "so I don't think they should be dealt with very severely, captain."
"You're too easy with them, Matt! Look at the trouble they caused you!"
"But see what good luck came out of it, captain. We captured Pitou and Fingal."
"That isn't the best thing that has come out of it, Matt," remarked the captain. "The best thing for me is the fact that this mutinous conduct of Speake, Clackett and Gaines proves, more than ever, that you are always to be depended on. You refused to sail away on a wild-goose chase after listening to a plausible story told by this rascally don, and——"
"I took a good deal of stock in the story at the time it was told, captain," said Matt.
"That may be; but you didn't let your own desires override what you conceived to be your duty. There would have been no merit in your act, for you, if you had not wanted to go with the don, but yet allowed your idea of duty to me hold you back. I am much obliged to you, Speake, Gaines and Clackett, for affording me this added proof that my confidence in Motor Matt is not misplaced. But, if I ever hear of any further mutiny on theGrampus, there will be something happen which none of you will ever forget.
"The U. S. cruiserSeminoleis in the harbor, and I am positive that her captain bears some news for me of a very important nature. This may make it necessary for a call to be made upon the officers and crew of theGrampusfor some further work. I cannot tell yet as to that. If so it turns out, then your commanding officer will be Motor Matt. Now leave me, all of you, for I have both listened and talked too much, and I am beginning to feel tired. Have the periscope ball and mast repaired, Matt, as soon as possible, and call and see me to-night."
As Matt left the house and made his way along the street, he came suddenly upon Ysabel Sixty, again clad in her feminine clothes and looking like the Ysabel he used to know of old.
"You did not stay long at home, Ysabel," smiled Matt.
"I couldn't," she answered. "I wanted to find out what your plans were, and how long you expect to remain in Belize."
"That's all in doubt, as yet. I am to call on Captain Nemo, Jr., to-night, and perhaps he will be able to tell me something about future plans."
"I hope," and there was a tremulous earnestness in the girl's words, "that you are not going to leave Belize very soon."
"I should like to stay here a little while, Ysabel, myself," said Matt.
Her face brightened.
"And if you are here for a while, you will come often and see me?"
"You may depend upon it, little girl," said Matt, taking her hand cordially. "I shall never forget this last experience of yours, and how you undertook an exceedingly risky venture solely to be of aid to me."
There was a gentleman waiting for a word with Matt, and Ysabel, with a glad smile, turned away in the direction of home.
"Señor Motor Matt?" asked the gentleman, who had been waiting for Ysabel to finish her talk with Matt.
"The same, sir," replied Matt.
"I, my boy, am Don Ramon Ortega, the Spanish consul in Belize. I wish to beg your pardon for the serious misadventures into which you were plunged through the unwarranted use of my name by that unmitigated scoundrel, Don Carlos Valdez."
"You were not to blame for that, don."
"Perhaps not, but I feel keenly the trouble which my name—always an honorable one—has caused you. Some time, when my family return from Mexico, I shall hope to see you at my home as an honored guest. Will you come?"
"Certainly, sir, if I am in Belize."
"I thank you, señor," said the don; and then, with a courtly bow, he passed on.
The king of the motor boys hardly knew whether to laugh or look sober; but when he reflected on how the rascally Don Carlos had juggled with the Spanish consul's name, and used it for base purposes, he felt that perhaps the consul was right in taking the matter so much to heart.
That evening, Pedro was taken ashore and lodged in the house of Ysabel's relatives. The next day he took passage to Cuba, and forever cut himself adrift from revolutions and the filibusters who foster them.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (18) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt in Brazil;
OR,
UNDER THE AMAZON.
The Cachalot—John Henry Glennie, U. S. N.—The Meeting in the Harbor—Ah Sin's Clue—Off for the Amazon—Villainous Work—Rubbing Elbows with Death—A Dive for Safety—Putting Two-and-two Together—Under the Amazon—Hand-to-hand—Boarded—A Prisoner, and a Surprise—The Old Slouch Hat—Para—A Desperate Risk.
The Cachalot—John Henry Glennie, U. S. N.—The Meeting in the Harbor—Ah Sin's Clue—Off for the Amazon—Villainous Work—Rubbing Elbows with Death—A Dive for Safety—Putting Two-and-two Together—Under the Amazon—Hand-to-hand—Boarded—A Prisoner, and a Surprise—The Old Slouch Hat—Para—A Desperate Risk.
NEW YORK, June 19, 1909.
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By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.
"I mean to have a jolly time to-morrow, Phil," said Tom Chester. "I expect it will cost me a cool fifty dollars."
"What are your plans, that require so much expense?" asked Philip Marden.
"Being New Year's Day, I must make calls on my friends, you know. I've got about fifty places chalked down for visits. I mean to go in style, and so, have engaged a carriage all to myself for the day. That'll cost ten dollars, and perhaps more. Then in the evening I'm going to give a little supper to half a dozen friends. Will you be one of the number?"
"Thank you, I have promised to spend the evening with my aunt and cousin."
"Oh, they'll let you off."
"No doubt, but they would be disappointed, and I would rather not disappoint them. So, with many thanks, I must decline your kind invitation."
"I am sorry," said Tom, but he didn't care much really. The truth was that Philip was a little too sober and sedate to suit his taste, and the supper was likely to be a convivial one.
"So Tom is going to spend fifty dollars in pleasure," thought Philip. "Well, he can afford it for once, so far as money goes, and so can I. I will do it, too, only it may be that our ideas of pleasure will differ somewhat. I shall have a few calls to make also."
The next morning Tom set out on his tour of calls. He had a "jolly" time, as he expected, and drank wine at so many different places that his head got a little confused by the middle of the afternoon.
About ten o'clock Philip set out also, but in a less stylish manner. He paid five cents for a ride in the horse cars, getting out in a locality very far from fashionable. He stopped before a shabby, three-story house, and ringing the bell, inquired for Mrs. Lucas.
"Third floor, front, right-hand side," was the direction.
The staircase was as shabby as the exterior of the house. Philip soon stood on the third landing, and after a little pause, knocked at the door. It was opened by a pale, sickly-looking woman, who looked at him inquiringly.
"Is this Mrs. Lucas?" asked the young man.
"Yes, sir," said she inquiringly.
"My name is Marden. You made me some shirts lately."
"Yes, sir. I hope they fitted."
"Excellently."
"I am glad of it. Perhaps he has some more work for me!" thought the poor woman.
"I am afraid you find it hard work to get along in these days of high prices," said Philip, surveying the scantily furnished apartment.
"I do, indeed, sir," said Mrs. Lucas, sighing. "Rent and provisions are very high, and I can't always get work. I have a little girl of ten—she is out just now—but she cannot do much. I try to keep her at school, but I find it hard to keep her in decent clothing. It was a great help to me, the money I received for making your shirts."
"I shall have some more work soon," said Philip kindly. "Meanwhile will you accept this note? I hope it will be of service."
"Ten dollars!" exclaimed Mrs. Lucas in surprise. "You have made a mistake, sir. Have you not?"
"Not at all."
"Ah, sir, you don't know how much good it will do me," said the poor woman, her face lighted up with pleasure. "Thank you many times for your great kindness."
"You are quite welcome, Mrs. Lucas. It is New Year's Day, you know—I wish you a Happy New Year."
"Indeed, sir, you have done much to make it so."
There was a warm glow at Philip's heart as he went out into the street. His call had been a pleasant one.
Two or three blocks brought him to another tenement house, more shabby and dilapidated than the one he had left.
"I think it is No. 17, rear house," he said.
He passed through a narrow passage, and emerged into a dark court about fifteen feet square, swarming with little children, and inquired of the first one that attracted his attention, "Does Mrs. Flaherty live here?"
"Yes, sir," said the little girl addressed, "she's my mother."
"Will you show me her room?"
Little Bridget Flaherty led the way upstairs, a little surprised at the appearance of her mother's visitor, and opened the door of a dirty room without a carpet.
Mrs. Flaherty rose in surprise, recognizing her visitor.
"It's Mr. Marden, shure," she said. "And how did you find the way, sir?"
"I happened to remember the street and number, Mrs. Flaherty."
"I hope there's nothing wrong about the clothes, sir?"
"Not at all; but I'm out making my New Year's calls."
"And it's an honor, indade, that you should call on me. Sit down, sir, if you please."
And she cleared off a chair, wiping it with her apron to insure cleanliness.
Philip chatted with her five minutes, inquiring about her family and circumstances. As he rose to go he took out ten dollars and handed it to her.
"Is it for me?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mrs. Flaherty, a New Year's gift."
I should hardly venture to reproduce the grateful thanks which were showered upon Philip by the enthusiastic recipient of his gift, and how she invoked all the saints in the calendar to shield him from harm and fill his path with blessings.
Philip next went to a bookstore, and purchased a series of juveniles illustrated with bright, attractive pictures, and taking the horse cars again was landed near a quiet little street of no pretensions as regards fashion. He ascended the steps of a plain, wooden house of two stories, and rang the bell. It was the house of a widow, who made a scanty living by keeping boarders of an humble class. She had one boy of twelve, bright and athirst for knowledge, but an invalid, and not strong enough to go to school. Therewas nothing the lad loved like reading, but his mother could not afford to buy him books, and her friends were not many of them book owners. So he used to lie day after day on the old lounge, finding the hours weary and monotonous.
It was his mother who opened the door.
"Jimmy will be so glad to see you, Mr. Marden," she said. "You'll find him on the sofa, as usual."
"Does he get no better?"
"Not that I can see. Poor boy, he finds the time pass very heavily."
"I've brought him some books that will while away the hours."
"How kind you are! He will be beside himself with joy."
She led the way into a small room, with a faded carpet on the floor. A young boy with a merry look on his pale face lay on a lounge. He lifted his eyes, and they brightened as they met the gaze of the visitor.
"Oh, Mr. Marden, I'm so glad to see you!" he exclaimed.
"And I am glad to see you, Jimmy—a Happy New Year to you!"
"And you also, Mr. Marden."
"Thank you, Jimmy. Now, what do you think I have got in this big bundle?"
"Is it books?" asked the boy eagerly.
"Yes, Jimmy, you have guessed right. Six new books, and all for you."
"All for me. Oh, how kind you are! Do open them quick."
Smiling at the boy's impatience, Philip cut the string with his penknife, and displayed six handsomely bound volumes, over which Jimmy was soon poring with delight.
"Then you like them, Jimmy?"
"Oh, so much. There was nothing which I should have liked as well. What a good man you are, Mr. Marden. I don't deserve it."
"I like to make people happy, Jimmy, that is all."
"And you have made me very happy, sir," said the boy, his face lighting up with gratitude. "My life has been so dull sometimes."
"Let us hope it will be brighter in future."
"I think it will, Mr. Marden, thanks to you."
Philip called at three other places, where he dispensed timely and welcome gifts. We need not follow him. It is enough to say that each visit carried sunshine with it and left happiness behind it. When the last call had been made he found that he had expended just fifty dollars, but he felt richer without it.
The next morning the two young men met at their place of business, for both were employed in the same mercantile establishment. Tom Chester was heavy-eyed, and looked as if he had been up all night. Philip's eye was bright, and his nerves were as steady as usual.
"Did you have a good time, Tom?" asked Philip.
"Capital! I made all my calls, and had a jolly supper—to top off with. Didn't get into bed till four this morning. I feel rather seedy to-day, that's a fact. But New Year's Day only comes once a year."
"True; how much did it cost you?"
"Fifty dollars. I suppose you, like a prudent boy, saved your money?"
"There you are mistaken. I spent fifty dollars, also."
"You did!" exclaimed his friend in astonishment. "How was that?"
"In making people happy."
"I don't understand you."
Philip gave a brief outline of what he had done.
"You're a strange fellow," said Tom Chester. "Who'd ever have thought of spending New Year's Day in that way?"
"A great many, I hope. Depend upon it. Tom, the best way to secure happiness yourself is to promote the happiness of others. I wouldn't exchange my investment for yours."
Dear reader, I have sketched two ways of spending the day that ushers in the New Year. Tom Chester spent his time and money in selfish gratification. Philip devoted his to nobler uses. Which do you prefer?