TREACHERY.
With a shout to Carl to follow, Matt plunged through the doorway, and was met with a terrific blow that threw him, half stunned, backward against Carl. Carl tripped over a box, grabbed at Matt to save himself, and both fell sprawling. Before they could get up four Chilians were upon them, holding them by main strength.
"Que quiere?" cried Matt, as he struggled.
One of the Chilians had a rope. None of them answered Matt's question, but proceeded without delay to put lashings on his hands and feet. Carl was treated in a similar manner, and thus the two chums were rendered absolutely powerless to do anything for themselves, or for their friends. And where were their friends? they asked themselves.
As soon as Matt and Carl were secured, the leader of the treacherous Chilians left the torpedo room with one of the others.
"Here iss a fine keddle oof fish?" wheezed Carl. "Der nexdt dime vat ve see some fellers on der pottom oof a poat, py shinks ve vill leaf dem vere dey are. Ach, vat a lot oof sgoundrels!"
"Hello, there!" came the voice of Gaines from the tank room. "Did that bullet do you any damage, Matt?"
"No. Where are you, Gaines?"
"Here, in the tank room, lashed hard and fast. We heard a noise, and Speake went up to investigate. He didn't come back. Those rascally Chilians have turned on us."
"Who was in the periscope room?"
"Dick."
"Any one else below with you?"
"No. I'm alone."
"You don't know anything about Glennie or Clackett?"
"Not a thing."
Just then Glennie entered the torpedo room. The big Chilian walked behind him with a revolver pressed to the back of the ensign's neck. Glennie's hands were bound.
"Here's a go, Matt!" muttered the ensign angrily.
"How did it happen?" asked Matt.
"I ought to have kept awake, I suppose, but I was so deuced tired I dropped off and slept like a log. The big Chilian got my revolver while I slept, and then the four of them laid hold of me, kept me from giving an alarm, and got ropes on my wrists and ankles. After that they gagged me. Then one of them went out into the periscope room. Dick was on guard there, and the Chilian asked for a drink—making motions to let Dick know what he pretended to want. Dick couldn't tell him how to get the water, so he started to get it himself. He had hardly turned his back before the Chilian downed him with a cowardly blow from behind. He was tied and dragged into the steel room by two of the Chilians, the other two staying behind to deal with Speake, who came up to see what was going on. Speake was taken by surprise and captured, and then Clackett. Speake and Clackett were hauled neck and heels into the steel room. I wonder if you can imagine how I felt, lying there on the cot, bound and gagged, and able to look through the door and see what was going on?"
"I can imagine it, Glennie," said Matt. "We're in a fix, all right, but we're not going to let that discourage us. They've brought you down here to talk, I suppose, and to let us know what their plans are."
The leader of the Chilians had allowed Glennie to speak with Matt, inferring, no doubt, that he would explain how securely theGrampushad passed into the hands of him and his companions. Now, as Glennie faced him, the man began to speak.
"He says," translated Glennie, "that he and his friends do not intend to go to Sandy Point. They are determined that we shall take them to the River Plate."
"Meppy he iss," struck in Carl, glaring at the leader of the rascally Chilians, "aber ve're tedermined anodder vay."
"We won't do anything of that kind, Glennie," said Matt, "for the chances are we'd have trouble with that mysterious steamer. I wonder," he added, as a startling thought flashed through his mind, "if the Sons of the Rising Sun had anything to do with this?"
Glennie shook his head.
"It can't be possible," he answered. "From the little I have overheard passing between the Chilians, I believe that they are convicts. There's a penal settlement at Punta Arenas, and I feel sure the rascals escaped from there. That was a tall yarn they gave us—but they had to explain their situation on the bottom of that boat and to do it without exciting our suspicions."
"Well, ask the leader how he expects to get theGrampusto the River Plate."
Glennie put the question.
"He says," the ensign went on, "that he intends to have you and one other run the boat."
"Ah!" exclaimed Matt. "Unless we run the boat they won't be able to carry out their plans. I believe I see a chance here to do something. We can at least take the boat to the surface—and when we get her there we'll not sink her again. If we're on the surface, we may have a chance to communicate with some vessel passing through the strait. Tell him, Glennie, that there will have to be three of us given our liberty, one to run the engine, one to run the tanks, and another to steer. I think that Dick, you, and I are the ones. You can steer and Dick will look after the tanks. Perhaps the three of us can get the better of these scoundrels."
"It's my chob to look afder der tanks," put in Carl. "Vy nod led me haf a handt in der scrimmage? I vould like, pedder as I can tell, to haf some mix-oops mit der sgoundrels."
Matt, however, did not change his plans. Carl was a good man in a set-to, if there should be one, but he was apt to lose his head.
Glennie repeated Matt's words to the Chilian, and the latter's face cleared as if by magic. No doubt he thought that he and his comrades were to have their own way on theGrampus.
"He says all right, Matt," said Glennie, "but he warns us that if we try to do anything more than obey orders he will shoot. He and his comrades are determined to reach the River Plate, and are willing to give up their lives trying to do so."
"If he can take chances," said Matt grimly, "then so can we."
The Chilian gave an order to the three men with him, and the ropes were taken off the ensign's hands. The three Chilians then led him out of the room.
"Count on me to do everything that's possible, Matt," called Glennie.
When they were gone, the leader himself cut the cords that bound Matt. Presenting the revolver, he motioned sternly for Matt to rise and proceed through the door.
Matt did not intend to rebel just then. He was anxious to get theGrampusto the surface; then, after that, he and his two friends could do whatever they thought best.
The Chilians were playing a desperate game; and the fact that they were obliged to rely on their prisoners for running the boat made it all the more hazardous.
The young motorist proceeded forthwith to the engine room. Kneeling behind him, his captor continued to keep him covered with the weapon.
Presently Dick, followed by another Chilian armed with a harpoon that belonged on the boat, appeared in the tank room.
"Keep your offing, you loafing longshore scuttler!" cried Dick angrily as the Chilian touched him with the sharp point of the harpoon. "You're the swab I saved from the wreck, and I wish now I had let you go to the sharks. Matt, old ship, what do you think of this?"
"Never mind, Dick, what I think of it," answered Matt. "We'll get theGrampusto the top of the water; then, if they want her sunk again, you'll find there's something wrong with the ballast tanks. There'll be three of us free, and perhaps we can do something."
"All I want is half a chance," growled Dick savagely.
"The first thing you do," spoke up Gaines, "cut me loose. That will make four of us—only one apiece."
The leader of the Chilians said something fiercely. Undoubtedly it was a command for silence.
"Quiet now, fellows!" warned Matt. "Pretend that you are scared to death and go ahead with your work."
"Hello, Matt!"
It was the voice of Glennie rattling through the speaking tube.
"What is it?" replied Matt.
"I'm at the wheel. Whenever you're ready you can count on me."
"What's the situation up there?"
"Clackett and Speake are locked in the steel room. Two Chilians are watching me like cats watching a mouse. One of them has the key to the room."
"Well," called Matt, "don't do anything until I give the word."
Matt and his chums had the advantage of being able to talk among themselves without their captors understanding a word. On the other hand, Glennie could hear what the Chilians were talking about and communicate it to Matt and his chums.
"Empty the tanks, Dick," called Matt, getting the engine to running preparatory to switching the power into the propeller.
Dick was a good all-round hand. He had made it his business to learn the engine so that he could relieve Gaines, and he had also learned how to use the turbines, the compressed air, to load and fire torpedoes, to steer, and everything else connected with the operating of the submarine.
The turbines got to work with a splash, and theGrampusbegan slowly to rise. The two Chilians watched operations with considerable curiosity, although they did not fail to give their closest attention to Matt and Dick.
Presently the boat was at the surface.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Glennie, through the tube, "we almost came up under a canoe with——"
Matt did not hear the rest. Just at that instant therewas a fierce yell from Carl. Matt whirled just in time to see the Dutch boy flinging himself on the Chilian with the harpoon.
The Chilian, watching Dick, had his back to the door of the torpedo room, and this gave Carl his chance to make an attack.
TURNING THE TABLES.
How Carl had managed to release himself Matt did not know, and he was too busy, just then, to spare time to ask. The leader of the Chilians, leaning out into the narrow passage, lifted the revolver with the intention of firing it at Carl. The position of the fighters did not give the man the chance he wanted—but it did give Matt an opportunity of which he was not slow to take advantage.
While the face of the Chilian was turned, the young motorist leaped at him and clasped him about the neck with his arms. There was no head room in the passage between the engine room and the tank room. In order to get through it a person had to go down on his hands and knees and creep.
Matt caught the leader of the Chilians just where a step downward led from the passage into the engine room—the farthest point aft in the boat.
The swarthy rascal gave vent to a yell, shouting something to the two men above. As Matt pulled him backward and downward, Dick rushed forward and lent his aid.
"Fine-o!" panted Dick, gripping the hand that held the revolver and wrenching the weapon away. "We're turning the tables quicker than I ever thought we'd be able to do. It's a main lucky thing Carl was left in the torpedo room. Quiet, you treacherous swab!" Dick added to the fiercely battling Chilian. "Stop your fighting or I'll put a bullet into you."
"Give me the revolver, Dick," said Matt, "and I'll take care of him. You go and lend Carl a hand."
Carl was having a hard time of it. The Chilian was not large, but hard labor in the penal settlement of Punta Arenas had developed his muscles.
Carl, at the bottom of the hatchway leading up to the periscope room, was doing his utmost to bear the Chilian down in the passage leading to the tank room. He was on the rascal's back, throttling him with his hands, and trying to force him forward.
The man, holding the harpoon point up, was jabbing with it over his shoulder. It was a dangerous instrument, and if Carl had been struck fairly with the lance-like point, he would surely have been badly hurt.
"You t'ought you hat got der pest oof Modor Matt, hey?" Carl was whooping as he continued compressing his fingers about the brown throat and gave no attention to the harpoon. "Vell, you got some more t'oughts coming. I peen Modor Matt's chum, und I vas a rekular horned ven I got my mad oop—a yellow chacket mit some stingers, yah, so! Vy don'd you fall mit yourseluf? Vy don'd——"
Just then the point of the harpoon ran through Carl's hair, raking his scalp.
"Shdop id, oder I vill shdrangle you!" Carl cried.
The Chilian, so to speak, had got the range. He was breathing in choking gasps, but he still had strength enough to stand upright, and he was preparing for a backward thrust with the harpoon, which might have won the day for him had not Dick interfered.
At the critical moment Dick seized the fellow's arm and wrenched it so severely that the harpoon fell clanging to the steel floor. The next instant the boys had the Chilian down.
"Get a rope, Carl!" puffed Dick. "I can hold him while you're doing it. Better get two ropes—one for Matt to use."
Carl darted into the torpedo room, and was soon back with the ropes. They were the same ones that had been used to secure him and Matt.
"Durn aboudt iss fair blay," chuckled Carl. "Der ropes ve use on dem vas de vones dey use on us! Ach, vat a habbiness!"
The man was quickly bound, and Carl and Dick crept on to where Matt was threatening the leader of the treacherous clique with the firearm.
"You and Carl can take care of the fellow, Dick," said Matt. "I'll leave you and go up to the periscope room. There's no telling what's been going on there."
"Slant away, matey," said Dick. "Carl and I can handle this dago, with ground to spare."
"You bed you!" echoed Carl; "ve can take care oof all der tagos on der poat."
Matt waited for no more, but crawled back to the ladder and hurried to the periscope chamber. What he saw from the door alarmed him. Glennie was lying on the floor, and the two other Chilians were nowhere to be seen.
"Glennie!" shouted Matt, rushing forward.
Glennie lifted himself on one elbow and gave the young motorist a bewildered look; then abruptly his brain cleared and he realized what had taken place.
"All right, Matt," said he. "As soon as that row was turned on below I was knocked over. Cæsar, what a thump I got!" Glennie sat up and lifted both hands to the back of his head. "What's going on?" he asked.
"We've captured the two villains who were below with us," Matt answered. "What has become of the other two?"
"Give it up. My wits went woolgathering the minute I dropped."
Matt ran to the door of the steel room and tried it. It was locked.
"Hello, out there!" came the voice of Speake. "What's all the excitement about?"
"We've captured the boat back again," replied Matt.
"Hooray!" exulted Clackett. "Let us out, Matt."
"As soon as I find the key." Matt turned to Glennie. "Who did you say had the key?" he asked.
"One of the two who were here with me," said Glennie. "They must have gone up on deck."
Matt sprang to the iron ladder and mounted swiftly to the hatch. The hatch was open and the morning sun was streaming down. The moment he got his head through the opening, he saw a sight that still further increased his alarm.
At least a dozen canoes were in the bay, arranged in a circle at a good safe distance from theGrampus. The boats were constructed of rough planks rudely tied together with the sinews of animals. There were four warriors in each canoe; small, fierce little men wearing cloaks of the sea otter and with faces like those of baboons. The warriors were armed with bows and arrows,and in each canoe the small fighters had their bows in hand with an arrow laid to the string.
Matt recalled what Glennie had said just before Carl made his attack on the Chilian with the harpoon. Evidently this flock of canoes had been in the bay, the warriors intent upon some nefarious expedition, when theGrampuslifted herself to the surface of the water.
This apparition, emerging from the depths of the bay, must have filled the superstitious natives with panic. They had fled, Matt reasoned, but had plucked up heart when the monster had failed to attack them and had drawn closer.
In grim silence the warriors surveyed the youth. They made no attempt to attack, but watched with glittering eyes, their steel-pointed arrows ready.
"That's a layout for you!" came the voice of Glennie from below. He was looking into the periscope, and had as good a view of the canoes and warriors as Matt had himself. "Don't let them get a whack at you, Matt," the ensign cautioned. "They're a treacherous lot of savages, and many a good ship they have coaxed to her doom by lighting fires on shore in stormy weather. It was those false beacons that gave their land the name of Terra del Fuego—the Land of Fire."
"I thought the country was named that because of the habit the natives have of carrying fire with them to keep them warm."
"Some say one thing and some another, but——"
"No use debating that question now. What I'd like to know is where have those other Chilians gone?"
"Can't you see them? They're beyond the canoes in a boat of their own, and pulling ashore."
The periscope ball, being fifteen feet above the deck of theGrampus, afforded Glennie a wider view than Matt had from the top of the tower. Matt climbed higher up the ladder and looked shoreward over the heads of the savages in the canoes.
He saw the two Chilians. They were in one of the rough boats and getting hastily toward the shore of the bay.
"How do you suppose they ever managed to get that canoe and pass through the circle of Fuegans?" asked Glennie. "Why, the savages are not even chasing them!"
"Probably," guessed Matt, "the Fuegans thought the Chilians were visitors from the bottom of the sea, inasmuch as they came out of the boat, and were afraid to molest them. But we're not going to let the scoundrels get away so easy as all that."
Stepping back down the ladder until his fingers could touch the steering device and the bell pushes, Matt rang for full speed ahead.
The jingle of the bell reached the Fuegans, and perhaps gave them the idea that this monster of the deep was making ready to do battle with them. Dropping their bows, they seized their paddles and shot their canoes to a safer distance.
The churning of the propeller still further alarmed the savages, and when the submarine headed shoreward, pointing straight for one segment of the canoe-draw circle, there was a wild scramble among the boats to get out of the way.
The Chilians, looking over their shoulders and seeing theGrampuspursuing them, redoubled their efforts to get away. But they would not have succeeded had not the Fuegans unexpectedly changed their tactics.
Whiz-z-z—zip! An arrow flashed past Matt's head.
"Come down, Matt!" shouted Glennie. "If you don't they'll put one of those arrows through you! It's a wonder that one missed."
Matt needed no second bidding. Emboldened by the attack of the first savage, all the others prepared to launch their shafts.
As Matt dropped into the tower and closed and secured the hatch, a veritable cloud of arrows came pecking at tower and deck, some of them gliding off into space, and some of them splintering and breaking upon the tough steel.
Matt continued to remain in the tower, his eyes at the lunettes and his hand on the steering device.
Any further attempt to chase the escaping Chilians was only a waste of time. Even if theGrampusoverhauled them it would have been impossible for those aboard to get out on deck and effect a capture. Their canoe might have been run down and destroyed, but that would merely have thrown the convicts into the water, where they would have been drowned or pierced with the sharp-pointed Fuegan arrows. Rather than have the Chilians slain, Matt chose to let them get ashore and take their chances on dry land.
The Fuegans, however, had no intention of giving up their attack. When Matt vanished below the conning-tower hatch, they divined instantly that he was afraid of their arrows. He could be no god of the ocean's depths if a Fuegan arrow frightened him. Reasoning in this primitive fashion, the savages gave vent to loud cries and urged their canoes toward the submarine from all sides.
THE MAN-OF-WAR.
With an armor of steel between him and the arrows, Matt could laugh at the puny efforts of the Fuegans to do any harm. With his eyes at the lunettes, he guided theGrampustoward the outlet of the bay.
The savage ardor of the Fuegans increased as they saw the monster apparently running away. Closer and closer they drew their circle of boats, two in each small craft using the paddles and the other two continuing to discharge their arrows. The canoes on the side toward which the submarine was making did not give way an inch, but continued to come boldly on. Two warriors in each leaped to their feet and hurled taunts at the frightened leviathan, letting their arrows fly directly against the bow. In a few moments theGrampuswas upon one of these canoes, staving it in and tossing its splintered pieces to right and left.
Four Fuegans were in the water. They were canoe Indians, however, and as much at home in the water as on dry land. Swimming away, they were picked up by some of their comrades in the other canoes.
Meanwhile, three canoes had managed to come alongside. Some of their occupants clambered to the deck of theGrampusand began stabbing at the plates with the points of their arrows. Fearing they might come to the tower and damage the lunettes, Matt ordered a ten-foot submergence.
As the submarine began to sink, the Fuegans flung themselves from the deck—and that was the last Matt saw of them.
"Take the wheel below, Glennie," called the young motorist. "We'll travel a short distance submerged and see if we can't leave those troublesome little fellows behind."
Glennie went to his work and Matt descended. Ten minutes later theGrampusagain sought the surface, and a look from the conning tower showed that the savages had been left out of sight around a point of land.
"Here is our course, Glennie," said Matt, laying a chart on the periscope table, and running his finger along the route they were to take; "through the first and second narrows, and so on to Cape Negro. I've got to leave you to do the steering for a time while I open the door and release Clackett and Speake. One of those two Chilians got away with the key, and, for all the good it can do us, it might as well be in the bottom of the ocean."
"I can take care of theGrampus, all right," answered Glennie.
"How's your head?"
"It feels as big as a barrel, but otherwise it's comfortable."
Matt went below. Dick was at the motor and Carl was in the tank room with Gaines. The latter had been released and was keeping a watchful eye on the two Chilian prisoners.
"What's been going on overhead, matey?" called Dick.
"The other two Chilians got away," replied Matt, "and we were attacked by a lot of Fuegans in canoes. But their attack didn't amount to much."
"Dose fellers," and Carl nodded to the prisoners, "vas in der vay. Vy nod take dem oop to dot shdeel shamper, Matt?"
"That will be all right, Carl, just as soon as I can get the steel chamber opened. Just now it's locked, and the key is somewhere in the pocket of one of the escaped Chilians. I've got to break the lock in order to let Speake and Clackett out."
Matt went on to the torpedo room, opened a tool box and possessed himself of a hammer and cold chisel. With these he was not long in smashing the lock on the door of the steel room. Speake and Clackett rushed out.
"Jumpin' jerushy!" exclaimed Clackett disgustedly. "We didn't cut much of a figure in the recapture of the boat, Matt."
"We didn't need you," answered Matt. "Carl turned the trick. Once the rest of us got started there was no stopping us. Two of the rascals we rescued got away, but the other two are nicely tied down in the tank room. You fellows had better go down and relieve Dick and Carl, so they can bring up the prisoners. Or, better still, Speake, you might let Gaines take the motor, Clackett the tanks, and you get something for us to eat. We don't want to neglect our appetites during all this excitement."
"I'm hungry myself," replied Speake, following Clackett out of the room, "and I'll not be long getting our whack ready."
"Get every ounce of power out of the motor down there," called Matt. "We've already lost a couple of hours—and we didn't have any time to waste."
Matt took a look at the periscope. They were gliding past the low, sandy shores of Patagonia, on one hand, and the rugged mountains of Terra del Fuego on the other, headed for the Narrows.
"We ought to be at Punta Arenas late this afternoon," said Glennie, "providing we keep up this rate of speed. Shall we put in there?"
"We might as well pass the night there, Glennie," answered Matt. "There's danger in it, but we've got to land these prisoners."
"Where's the danger?" asked Glennie. "Our worst enemies are sailing around the Horn; we're well to the north of them and are due in the Pacific before they are."
"You forget one important point: The Japs have a wireless outfit aboard, and there is another station at Punta Arenas. Suppose the news is flashed out that the submarineGrampusis in the harbor? What's to prevent the Japs from picking it up?"
"That's so," muttered Glennie. "I hadn't thought of that, but it isn't much that gets away from you, Matt."
"I've got a big responsibility on my shoulders and can't afford to let anything get away from me. Even if the news did reach the Japs that we're in the harbor at Sandy Point, headed west, we'd still be ahead of them and their steamer. But they're so full of wily tricks they might hatch up something to make us trouble."
"I'm mighty glad they're going around the Horn, and not us," said Glennie. "You were wise when you made that change in the programme, Matt."
At that moment, Dick and Carl came dragging the leader of the escaped convicts into the periscope room. The fellow began to talk as soon as he saw Glennie.
"Pay attention to him, Glennie," said Matt, taking the wheel out of the ensign's hand, "and let us know what he's saying."
Glennie stepped over to the prisoner and listened to his talk.
"He's making threats," observed Glennie, "and his talk's not worth listening to."
"What does he say?"
"Why, he says that if we turn him over to the authorities at Sandy Point he'll make us more trouble than we can take care of."
"The duffin' old jailbird!" exclaimed Dick angrily. "Tell him that if he talks too much like that we'll toss him overboard, tied as he is."
"He's talking for effect," said Matt. "Take him into the steel room."
"I vish, py shinks," cried Carl, "dot I could dalk Spinnish so I could tell dis feller vat I t'ink oof him!"
When both men had been brought up from below and put into the steel room, Speake had breakfast ready. It was ten o'clock, and rather a late hour for breakfast aboard theGrampus.
Some attempt was made, while the boys were eating, to get some information from the wounded Chilian, but he would not say a word. He ate with his usual heartiness, however, and when the meal was finished, Dick went into the prison chamber and supplied the other Chilians.
No boats were passed, and hour after hour drifted by with the motor singing its song of speed, and theGrampusjust "humping herself" through the strait.
Matt kept to the steering himself. He had made a long study of the chart and felt that he was more competent than any of the others to keep the submarine out of danger.
At Cape Negro the scenery began to change, and for the better. The low brushwood became good-sized trees, and there was some character to the shores the submarine was passing.
"It was just our luck to fall in with a bunch of convicts—that is the way our luck has been running ever since we left Port of Spain," grumbled Speake.
"Avast dere a leedle, Shpeake!" warned Carl. "Don'd go finding some fault mit our luck. Ditn't ve got der poat pack from dem confict fellers? Dot vasn't a pad luck, you bed you!"
"Yes, but look at the time we've lost."
"We're making it up, Speake," said Matt. "By the way, Carl," and he turned his eyes on his Dutch pard, "how did you get those ropes off your hands down there in the torpedo room?"
"I vas some foxy fellers, you bed my life," chuckled Carl. "Ven you shkipped oudt, I t'inks, py shiminy, dot I vill make some surbrises. Der dool shest hat its gorner in der shmall oof my pack, und I rupped der ropes oop und down der gorner ondil I rupped dem in doo. Den I vas retty, und you saw vat I dit. Some shtar blays, eh?"
"One of the finest things you ever did, matey," averred Dick, "and you've done a lot of things that stand pretty high on the record."
"T'anks," said Carl. "I ain'd von oof der pragging kindt, aber you bed somet'ing for nodding I'm a hot von ven I durn meinseluf loose. Now——"
"Ship ahoy!" exclaimed Matt suddenly, his eyes fixed on the periscope.
Every one in the periscope room leaped up excitedly.
"What is she?" came from all of them in chorus.
"A Chilian war ship," said Matt.
"Not the—the Jap boat?" gasped Glennie.
"Hardly. The Jap boat wasn't a war ship. This isn't the same steamer, but an armor-clad. Run up the hatchway, Dick, and hail her. We can turn our prisoners over to the captain and won't have to go ashore at Punta Arenas."
"A capital piece of work!" applauded Glennie.
But it was not to turn out such a capital piece of work as they all thought.
ABOARD THE "SALVADORE."
TheGrampuswas between Elizabeth Island and the island of Santa Madalena when the war ship was sighted. She was headed eastward, and by the time Dick got the hatch opened and looked out, the distance between the two boats had rapidly narrowed.
There was a good deal of excitement on the deck of the war ship. Officers were crowding the bridge and sailors were pressing against the rail, forward. Several of the officers had glasses to their eyes and were studying the submarine with ill-concealed curiosity.
The waters of the strait were as smooth as a pond, and it was possible for theGrampusto come close alongside the larger vessel.
"Ahoy!" roared Dick.
An answer was returned in Spanish.
"Can't savvy your lingo," roared Dick, making a trumpet of his hands. "Haven't you got any one aboard who can talk English?"
"What ship is that?" cried an officer, so heavily embroidered with gold lace, brass buttons, and epaulettes that Dick was sure he must be the captain.
"It's the submarineGrampus," answered Dick.
"English?"
"No, American, althoughI'mEnglish, fast enough."
"Where's your flag?"
The war ship had slowed her engines and was lying to.
Dick signaled the engine room for just enough speed to give the submarine steerageway.
"We're under water so much," said Dick, in answer to the officer's question, "that we can't fly our colors."
"Is that a government vessel?"
"Not now, but she will be as soon as we get her to Mare Island Navy Yard."
"I'd like to send a man aboard of her to look her over," said the captain. "Come closer alongside and heave to."
"We can't allow you to look her over," said Dick. "There are improvements on this boat that no other nation is going to get hold of."
Dick was not very tactful. Whenever he wanted to make a point, he took the shortest way to it. His answer seemed to anger the officer.
"You're talking to a captain in the Chilian navy," cried the officer, an ostrich plume in his hat quivering with the wrath that shook his body. "If I want to look that boat over I'll do it. Who's your captain?"
"Better let me come up and talk with him, Dick," said Matt, who, at the foot of the iron ladder, had heard all that had passed between his chum and the captain of the war ship.
Instead of coming down the ladder, Dick got out on the deck.
"I am in charge of this boat, captain," Matt called up to the commander of the war ship, "but there is a representative of the United States Navy with us, and his orders are that the boat is not to undergo inspection. I am sorry, but, you see, this boat has virtually been purchased by the United States Government."
"If you're in charge," came from the man on the war ship's bridge, "then come up here—I want to talk with you."
"I shall be glad to do so," Matt answered, "but, first, we have some prisoners we should like to turn over to you."
"Prisoners?"
"Yes, escaped convicts."
"Ah, ha! You found those five rascals, did you?"
"Yes, captain. Their boat had overturned and we picked them off the craft's bottom not far from Cape Virgins during the storm late yesterday afternoon."
"Good enough! We were looking for those men. Come up close under our lee and we'll send down a rope for the prisoners and a sea ladder for you."
"Better drop a bosun's chair, captain," suggested Dick. "One of the men has a broken arm."
The officer turned and gave some directions. While these were being carried out, theGrampuswas manœuvred around the stern of the war ship and up under the lee. As they passed the stern, Matt and Dick saw the war ship's name. It was theSalvadore.
"That other ship, we talked with by wireless," commented Dick, "wasn't theSalvadore, by a long shot."
"I had a hunch to that effect right along," answered Matt.
As soon as theGrampuswas close in, on the lee side of the larger vessel, a bosun's chair and a sea ladder were in readiness. Dick went below to help bring up the prisoners.
The leader came bellowing and roaring his wrath. Hefought against being placed in the bosun's chair, and a rope was flung down from the steamer's rail. Dick caught the end of the rope and it was tied around the Chilian's body, under the arms. The rascal was still howling as he was snatched aloft and dragged to the war ship's deck.
Another rope was sent down for the second uninjured prisoner. He went up quietly, but with a stern face and glittering eyes.
The man with the broken arm made no struggle, but silently took his place in the bosun's chair. When he had been safely lifted over the war ship's rail, the captain leaned over and called down:
"Where are the other two? There were five who escaped."
Matt explained how the two missing convicts had got away. Just as he finished, a junior officer stepped to the captain's side, touched his arm, and said something in a low tone.
"Now you come up," called the captain, beckoning to Matt; "I want to talk with you."
The captain turned away from the rail.
"You vould t'ink dot brass-plated feller owned der eart'," remarked Carl. "Ve vas free American cidizens, py shinks, und he don'd got some pitzness shpeaking to us like vat he dit."
"Nonsense, Carl," laughed Matt, "that's only his way."
The sailors on the war ship gave the rope ladder a heave that sent it close enough for Matt to catch it. Gripping the iron rungs, Matt allowed himself to swing from the submarine's deck. He was jarred a little as he struck the armored side of the war ship, but he went on up to the rail quickly and easily.
An officer said something to him and took him by the arm. Leading him aft, they entered a passageway at the break in the poop, walked along it a few steps, and then turned in at an open door.
Two men, who were armed with muskets and looked like marines, stepped on each side of Matt as he entered.
Dick, Glennie, and Carl, down on the deck of theGrampus, had watched Matt vanish over the rail with anything but easy minds.
"I don't like the looks of things, mates," said Dick, "and that's a fact."
"Me, neider," added Carl. "Dot feller in der brass drimmings shpeaks like ve vas togs. He iss some Shmard Alecs, I bed you."
"I don't think Matt ought to have gone aboard the war ship," averred Glennie.
Dick turned on him in a flash.
"Then why didn't you say so?" he demanded sharply. "You're an officer in the United States Navy, and these Chilian swabs wouldn't dare lay a finger onyou. What did you let Matt go for, when you could have gone just as well?"
"Hold your luff, Ferral," answered Glennie, reddening. "You didn't think I stayed off that war ship because I wasafraid, did you?"
"I'm a Fiji if I know why you stayed off," scowled Dick. "That dago captain is hot because he couldn't come aboard theGrampus——"
"He's hot because you refused him the privilege in the way you did."
"Oh, my eye!" scoffed Dick.
The dislike Dick had for Glennie was increased by a vague alarm for Matt, and the ensign and Matt's sailor chum were never nearer an open rupture than at that moment. Dick's fists had clinched, and a dangerous gleam had leaped into Glennie's eyes.
Carl, to his great credit be it stated, interfered. He had as little liking for Glennie as Dick had, but he saw the folly of quarreling under the eyes of theSalvadore'ssailors.
"Dot vill do you, Tick!" growled Carl. "You vant dose tagos to t'ink Modor Madd's friendts vas a punch oof yaps? Keep shdill mit yourseluf; und you, Glennie, nodding more schust now, oof you blease."
Glennie turned and walked to the base of the conning tower. There he sat down moodily and watched the war ship, hoping every moment to see Matt reappear.
"I don't like that swab a little bit," muttered Dick to Carl. "There's something wrong with his top-hamper. Do you recollect the time he came aboard theGrampus, Carl? How he laid it down that we were all to 'mister' him?"
"We can't forged dot," said Carl, "aber id vas pedder dot ve try, Tick."
"I guess he'd like to make us black his boots, if he could."
"Nod so pad as dot. He's a prave feller—you saidt dot yourseluf ven he vas heluping you und Matt safe dose fellers on der poat."
"Of course he's got nerve, but he spoils it all with that way of his. Why didn't he put in his oar, while that cock of the walk up there was ordering Matt around?"
"He knowed pedder as to inderfere mit Matt's pitzness, same as you und me. Modor Matt knows vat he's got to do, und chenerally, you bed you, he does id.Nicht wahr?"
Dick remained silent. He was not acting at all like himself, but was angry because something had not been said or done to keep Matt off theSalvadore.
Half an hour passed, with the war ship and the submarine lying alongside of each other. At the end of that time another officer, who could not talk English quite so fluently as the captain, thrust his head over the rail.
"We go to Punta Arenas," he called down. "You come 'long in your leetle boat."
"Where's our skipper?" roared Dick.
"He iss arrest'," was the calm answer. "You know more w'en you get to Punta Arenas!"
Dick said a good many wild and unreasonable things, then, but no one on the war ship paid any attention to him. Carl said quite a few things, too, but, strange as it may seem, he had himself under better control than Dick.
The war ship got under headway again, put about and started westward along the strait. There was nothing for theGrampusto do but to follow.
THE TIGHTENING COIL.
Matt, supposing that the actions of the two marines was a mere formality, made no comment. The captain sat in a chair before a desk, smoking a cigar and scowling at him. He did not ask Matt to sit down.
"Who owns that submarine?" the captain jerked out.
"Captain Nemo, Jr., of Philadelphia," Matt answered, a little resentful because of the captain's curt manner.
He and his chums had captured the convicts and had thus performed a good deed for the Chilian government. It seemed to Matt as though he was entitled to a little more courtesy.
"Captain Nemo, Jr.," muttered the captain. "Carramba!A fictitious name. There is a story about a Captain Nemo. Why do you talk to me like that?"
"I am telling you the truth!" answered Matt. "Will you tell me your name, sir?"
"Why do you wish to know that?"
"So I may report this conversation to the naval officer aboard theGrampus. He will enter it in his log, which, at the end of this cruise, will be submitted to the navy department of our government."
The captain's eyes glimmered like coals.
"So!" he snapped. "You think me afraid? Ah, ha! I am Captain Enrique Sandoval, of the Chilian war shipSalvadore. Report it. What is it to me? Now, if you please, have you a wireless telegraph instrument aboard the submarine?"
"We have. What of that?"
"Then you admit it!"
"I don't know why I shouldn't admit it," answered Matt coolly.
"Why have you a wireless machine on your boat?" went on the captain.
Matt had no intention of telling this Captain Sandoval about his trouble with the Sons of the Rising Sun.
"That is my business, Captain Sandoval," said he.
"Si, and mine, too, as you will find. Yesterday, this war ship was in Smyth Channel. Her wireless machine was out of commission and could not be used. The station at Punta Arenas kept calling for me.Youanswered!Youreplied that your boat was theSalvadore!Youtook the message about the escaped convicts from the air. Why? Because you wanted to find them, take them aboard, and help them escape!Carramba!"
Matt was astounded. Captain Sandoval punctuated his words by jabbing a long forefinger into the air, but Matt hardly saw the finger, or the wildly triumphant look on the captain's face.
"That is not true, Captain Sandoval," said Matt, his face flaming indignantly. "If we were trying to keep the convicts out of your hands, why should we turn them over to you, here in the strait?"
"Garcia told me," went on the captain. "He and his men were to pay you money to take them to the River Plate. You took them off the sailboat, and then you lost your courage and came westward along the strait to leave them at Punta Arenas."
"That is not the truth!"
"Don't talk so to me!" frowned the captain. "Be respectful."
"I shall tell you what I think," answered Matt. "What you say is worse than foolish. Who is this Garcia?"
"He is the leader of the convicts—the one who planned the escape. I say you helped them, because you thought they would give you money."
"There is not a word of truth in what you say!" declared Matt.
The captain started up from his chair.
"Ah, ha!" he screamed. "You dispute the word of Captain Enrique Sandoval?"
"Oh, splash!" exclaimed Matt disgustedly. "I'm going, but this insult shall be reported to our state department."
"Your state department!" sneered Captain Sandoval. "When you try to help Chilian convicts escape, you put yourself out of the protection of your state department."
Matt stepped to the door. Two muskets dropped across the opening in front of him. The king of the motor boys whirled around and drew himself up to his full height.
"What does this mean, Captain Sandoval?" he asked crisply. "Am I not to be allowed to leave this ship?"
"No; you are under arrest."
Matt, waiting no longer for an invitation, sat down in a chair.
"You are piling up a lot of trouble for yourself, Captain Sandoval," said he coolly. "You're a reasonable man, or ought to be, as captain of a war ship, but is there any sense in arresting me on such a ridiculous charge as the one you have just mentioned?"
"The charge is enough," growled the captain. "But there is another."
"What is it?"
The captain's talk was so outrageously nonsensical that Matt, in spite of his desperate situation, could not help but find some amusement in his preposterous assertions.
"You, over your wireless machine, claimed to be the war shipSalvadore. That is enough, more than enough, to cause your arrest."
Matt was beginning to see through the whole proceeding.
Captain Sandoval, for reasons of his own, chose to take the word of the convict, Garcia, in preference to Matt's. Garcia had made his threats that, if Matt persisted in turning him over to the Chilian authorities, he would make trouble for theGrampus. This, undoubtedly, was what the convict was now trying to do.
Garcia had been the first one sent aboard. He had at once told his false story to one of the petty officers, who, in turn, had carried it to the captain.
As for the wireless part of it, the machine on theGrampushad not been strong enough either to receive messages from Punta Arenas, or to send them there. Punta Arenas had heard the Japanese boat talking. The Japs had claimed to be the war ship for nothing else than to receive a possible message regarding the whereabouts of theGrampus.
But Matt could not explain the case of the Sons of the Rising Sun to Captain Sandoval. Sandoval might attempt to get into communication with the Japanese boat, either to confirm Matt's story, or for some other purpose. The result would be that the Sons of the Rising Sun would learn that they had been tricked, and that the submarine was in Magellan Strait. Then, if theGrampuswas held any length of time in Punta Arenas, pending an investigation, the Japanese boat would have time to get around to Smyth Channel before Matt and his friends could reach the Pacific.
The young motorist took a look ahead, and held his peace regarding his Jap enemies.
"You are making a big mistake, Captain Sandoval," said Matt quietly. "I shall appeal to the American consul at Punta Arenas."
The captain showed his teeth in a snaky smile.
"I shall have much to say about what you will do," he answered.
"You will not allow me to return to the submarine?" asked Matt.
"I shall take you, a prisoner, on this war ship to Punta Arenas."
"How about the submarine?"
"The submarine will follow us. We——"
An officer appeared at the door.
"Captain," said he, "one of the prisoners would speak with you."
This report was made in Spanish, but Matt translated it.
"Let him be brought here properly guarded," said the captain.
A few minutes later, the wounded Chilian was brought in by two marines. This was the man Matt had taken such a desperate risk to save at the time the five convicts were taken from the overturned boat.
"Amigo," said the prisoner, looking at Matt and tapping his bandaged arm.
Here, then, was a friend where Matt had least expected to find one. For some time the convict talked, the captain listening incredulously. When he had done, the captain ordered him away.
"The fellow says," observed the captain, to Matt, "that Garcia speaks lies, nothing but lies. But this fellow wants to help you, for he says you saved his life."
"He is truthful," said Matt.
"I reason for myself," declared the captain shortly.
"If you delay theGrampusat Punta Arenas," went on Matt, "our government will hear of it and will make trouble for you and your government."
"I do my duty," answered the officer, patting his gold-laced chest; "Captain Enrique Sandoval always does his duty. It is not for you to tell me what I must do."
"Will you take me to jail in Punta Arenas?" asked Matt.
"No, not to the jail. The house of the harbor master will do. You will be kept there until the convict, Garcia's, story is looked into."
"How long will that take?"
"A week, two weeks—I do not know how long."
"I shall not stay in Punta Arenas more than a day, at most!" declared Matt. "The submarine must be taken into the Pacific and up the coast without delay."
"We shall see," said Captain Sandoval, pulling at his mustache and shrugging his shoulders.
"We shall see," repeated Matt, "if the American consul, when appealed to by the naval officer aboard theGrampus, has any power to undo this outrage."
The captain waved his hand to the marines and gave them an order. The guards stepped to Matt's side, motioned for him to stand up, and led him off to a small room opening upon the same passage that led to the captain's quarters. Here Matt was locked in, and presently he heard muffled orders, a jingling of bells, and theSalvadorebegan putting about for the run back to Sandy Point.
DICK ON HIS METTLE.
It was dark when the submarine arrived off the town, and those aboard her could not have taken in the city's appearance even if their curiosity had prompted them. All the way in from the point where they had met the war ship those on theGrampushad been holding a council of war.
Why had Matt been arrested? Why was he being taken to Punta Arenas? What was to be done with him there? How long would theGrampusbe delayed? Would the Japanese steamer have time to round the Horn andreach the other end of the strait before the submarine pushed her nose into the Pacific?
These were some of the questions canvassed by those aboard theGrampus. No one was very much worried over Matt's safety, for they all felt that the Chilian authorities would not dare go to any desperate length with him. The worst that could happen would be the delay to theGrampus—but that was likely to be grievous enough if the Jap steamer was in a position to take advantage of it.
"I shall go ashore," declared Glennie, "just as soon as theGrampusreaches the town, and lay the matter before the American consul."
"The British consul's my man," declared Dick.
"Our boat sails under the American flag," said Glennie, "and the logical man for us is the American consul."
"The British consul cuts more ice," affirmed Dick, "and I shall go to him."
"Vere iss it for me to go?" piped up Carl. "I vant to do somet'ing for my bard, Modor Matt."
"You, and all the rest of the submarine's crew," said Dick, "will stay on board and watch the boat. If any one tries to come aboard, close the hatch and sink to the bottom. I guess they won't go after you in diving suits."
On reaching the town, theSalvadoretook up her berth a cable's length off the wharf. The submarine, being of light draught, lay to alongside the wharf, and Dick and Glennie went ashore. As soon as they had landed, Carl, who was left in nominal command, backed off for half a cable's length and let go the anchors. It was arranged that a sharp whistle from the shore was to bring theGrampusback to that particular part of the wharf as soon as the mud hooks could be lifted. All on board were to keep awake and remain ready, at a moment's warning, to assume their duties.
When this arrangement was made, none of those concerned in it had the remotest idea of the importance it was to hold in the progress of events. It went to prove that carefully laid plans are always best, even when an excess of care does not seem essential.
Neither Dick nor Glennie knew where their respective consuls were to be found. Happening to meet a soldier from the garrison, however, he directed them.
Having secured their bearings, Dick and Glennie separated. For this Dick was not sorry. The ensign had a number of little mannerisms, entirely unaffected, although they did not seem so, which Dick was far from admiring. Then, again, Dick Ferral had been an apprentice seaman in His British Majesty's navy, and Glennie was a commissioned officer. The fact that Glennie held his commission in the United States and not in the British navy did not seem to lessen the breach that lies between the forecastle and the quarter deck. At least, it did not in Dick's estimation.
Dick was not long in finding the vice-consul's house—and not much longer in discovering that the vice-consul was out of town for a week, having taken a horseback journey into the interior. His affairs, meanwhile, had been left in the hands of the German consul.
"I'll be shot," grumbled Dick, to himself, as he came away from the vice-consul's door, "if I call on any Dutchman. I guess it's up to Mr. Glennie, so here's hoping that he puts his conceit in his pocket and gets the United States consul to do something."
Dick, loitering back along the street, suddenly came face to face with Glennie, who struck into the thoroughfare Dick was following from a crossroad.
"Well!" exclaimed Glennie, recognizing Dick by a street lamp.
"Is it?" returned Dick, none too well pleased by a meeting.
"Is it—what?" queried Glennie.
"Why, well. What did the consul promise to do? And, if he promised anything, why isn't he along with you to do something? You don't want to have Matt spend the night in the war ship's bally old brig, do you?"
"I had hard luck," said Glennie disappointedly. "The American consul has taken a horseback ride into the country and won't be back for a week. He left his affairs in the hands of the German consul."
"Keelhaul me!" growled Dick. "That's just what I was told at the British vice-consul's. That's all we have here now is a vice-consul. He lefthisbusiness with the German consul, too. I wonder if those two fellows went into the country together?"
"More than likely," was the gloomy response. "What are we to do now?"
"Call on the Dutchman. I'd rather be flogged than do it, for Carl's about the only Dutchman I ever saw who was worth knowing. But I'll go, if it's going to help Matt."
"Let's hunt up some one to tell us where the German lives."
Having agreed on their course, the two boys set off to follow it. A sailor gave them their directions, from which it appeared that the consul they were looking for lived on the other side of the city, not far from the shore. As the easiest way of reaching his house, Dick and Glennie returned to the wharf and followed it for a short distance. It had been their original intention to keep along the wharf until they reached a point opposite the square of houses containing the German's residence, but something occurred to interfere with their designs.
Just as they were abreast of the spot where the Chilian war ship was anchored, they heard a splash of oars.
"A boat's coming ashore," said Dick. "Let's draw back and watch. If the captain's in the boat we'll tacklehim and make him tell us something about Matt. It's no more than fair that we should be told what Matt's been arrested for."
"Quite right," agreed Glennie. "Here's a good place to wait, Ferral."
The ensign pointed to a pile of timbers close to the wharf.
"Just the place," assented Dick, and, in a few moments, they were screened from sight and watching the approaching boat.
The launch hove alongside the wharf and five figures could be seen climbing up on the old timbers. Just who the persons were the darkness made it impossible for Dick and Glennie to discover. Their ears, however, soon gave them the knowledge that their eyes could not yield.
"I claim the right to be taken to the American consul!" said a voice.
Dick was so startled he almost dropped.
"It's Matt!" he whispered hoarsely. "By glory, they've brought my old raggie ashore!"
"Listen!" urged Glennie.
"You will not go to the American consul's to-night," an authoritative voice answered the young motorist.
"There will be trouble over this, Captain Sandoval," went on Matt, "if you don't take me to my country's representative."
"It is impossible."
"Why?"
"Because the American consul is not in the town. He has gone away for a week. When he comes back, you may see him."
"Are you telling me the truth, Captain Sandoval?"
"Carajo!I will not allow you to talk to me like that."
Some words in Spanish followed, evidently an order to those who accompanied the captain and Matt.
"Stop!" commanded Matt. "Before you take me to the house of the harbor master, I have another demand to make."
"We are wasting too much time over your demands," replied the captain sternly. "The harbor master may have gone to bed if we wait too long. I do not wish to put him to any inconvenience."
"His convenience is as nothing compared to mine. If the American consul is not in town, then I ask you to take me to the British consul."
A laugh arose to the captain's lips.
"As it happens,amigo," said he, "the British consul left town with the American. Neither will be back here for a week."
"That is too much of a coincidence to be true," answered Matt.
"You have disputed my word too much, already," snapped the captain, "and I will bear no more."
Again he gave the order to move, and again Matt hung back.
"If necessary," cried the captain, "I will have the marines carry you. Forward, I say."
"Let me have a word with my friends on the submarine," continued Matt.
"I shall allow you to talk with no one but me—and the harbor master. In a week you may see your consul."
"I tell you I can't stay here in Punta Arenas for a week. The submarine must leave Sandy Point in the morning."
"If so," was the sarcastic rejoinder, "then she leaves without you."
Motor Matt had borne patiently with Captain Sandoval, but now his patience seemed to have given out.
"Captain Sandoval," he cried, "I defy you to go ahead and do your worst; and, at the same time, I warn you that the more trouble you make me the more you are making for yourself. I can't understand what you are trying to do, for your excuse for arresting me and taking me away from the submarine is as unreasonable as it is foolish. If——"
"Do you threaten me?" stormed the captain.
"Yes," was the calm response, "and defy you, at the same time. Now go ahead and let's see how far your crazy ideas will carry you."
The captain, in a tone that bespoke his fierce anger, gave orders for a third time to the marines who were with him.
The orders were obeyed, and the marines started.
"I'm a Fiji," whispered Dick, "if they're not coming this way!"
"I believe you're right," answered Glennie, carefully watching the direction taken by the dark forms.
"They'll pass close to the end of this pile of timber," continued Dick.
He spoke rapidly, and there was a good deal of excitement back of his words.
"I guess that's so, too. But what of it?"
"What of it?" repeated Dick. "Say, Glennie, if you're the right sort, now's the time to show it."
"I'm over my head," said Glennie. "What are you thinking about?"
"I'm on my mettle to-night," pursued Dick.
"From your excited condition I should judge that that might be the case."
"Do you want to see theGrampusheld up for a week in this blooming place at the south end of Nowhere?"
"Of course not!"
"Well, that's what will happen, sure as fate, if those fellows take Matt to a lockup. Neither the American consul, nor the British vice-consul, will be back for a week, or——"
"But there's the German consul we're going to call upon."
"Ten to one he'll play safe, and make us wait until the American consul gets back. Now we know Matt hasn't done a thing that calls for this sort of treatment. It's an outrage. But that's not the worst. The delay to theGrampusmay throw us into the hands of those Sons of the Rising Sun, and thatmightprove the destruction of the submarine. Everything hangs on us, right here and now. Matt has given his defiance to the captain of the war ship. Let's match him, and go him one better by giving defiance to all the powers of Chili, naval and military."
"How?"
"Why, by laying for that blooming lot of swabs and taking Matt away from them by main force! Are you with me? In other words, John Henry Glennie, are you a man or just an imitation of one with a uniform and a commission in the United States Navy?"
Dick Ferral certainly was on his mettle! His proposition almost took Glennie's breath; but, notwithstanding, there was a taunt in the last words which did not escape the sensitive ensign.
"By Jupiter!" he exclaimed. "It's a wild, impossible piece of work, but I'm with you!"
"Then lie low here and wait for those fellows to come along!"