"ON THE JUMP."
"You say the schooner got away to the south, Ferral?" asked Jordan.
"Aye, aye, and looked as though she was bound for down the coast. Looks like Cassidy had deserted, Matt."
"We ought to have jailed him," commented Jordan. "Did Cassidy know anything about the sealed orders, Matt?"
"Captain Nemo, Jr., had me read the orders aloud in the periscope room," Matt answered. "Cassidy had been in the conning tower, but when I finished with the letter I saw that he was in the room with us."
Jordan's face grew even more foreboding.
"This looks bad!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't trust that Fingal man around the corner, and here he's run off with Cassidy and headed down the coast. There's something in the wind, and if our game is tipped off before we get to where we're going it will be a case of up-sticks with Coleman."
"I don't think Cassidy would dare tip off our work to Fingal!" exclaimed Matt, somewhat dashed by the course of events.
"A drunken man is liable to do anything."
"But what would Cassidy have to gain by telling Fingal our business to the southward?"
"Why, as for that, Fingal has been suspected of helping those same revolutionists. If he can help the scoundrels hang onto Coleman, they might make it worth his while."
"The letter I read in the periscope room," said Matt, after a moment's thought, "spoke of the Rio Dolce as the place where Coleman was being held. This, you tell me, is wrong. In that event, and assuming that Cassidy heard the whole of the letter, then he has a clue that's not to be depended on."
"Fingal must know the Rio Dolce is not the place. The fact that the schooner bore away to the south proves that some one has correct information. No, Matt, Fingal has learned through Cassidy just why theGrampusput in at Belize; and Cassidy, intoxicated as he is and worked up over a fancied grievance, has cast in his lot with the schooner. The pair of them are off to the south to make trouble for us, take my word for it. What we must do is to get away as close on their heels as possible. We can't wait until evening, but must proceed on the jump and get away without losing any more time than necessary."
"Avast a minute," spoke up Dick. "You remember, Matt, that there was a schooner took Captain Sixty off the fruiterSanta Maria, and sailed with him to find the derelict brig. That schooner was to take off the arms and ammunition from the wreck, and would have done so if the submarine hadn't shown up and been backed by the cruiserSeminole."
"I remember that," said Matt. "What of it, Dick?"
"Well, matey, I'm a Fiji if I don't think the schooner that took Cassidy and the other swab south is the same one that figured in our affairs a few days ago."
To all appearances the consul had had news relative to these events in the gulf. As soon as Dick had finished, he slapped his hands excitedly.
"Jupiter!" he exclaimed. "This is more proof that Fingal is hand-and-glove with the revolutionists. This new move, Matt, means that that pair of scamps are off for the south to put a spoke in our wheel. We can't delay the start an instant longer than we find necessary to finish our preparations."
Before Matt could answer, an open carriage drove along the street. The doctor was in the rear seat supporting the captain. The latter looked like a very sick man indeed, and was leaning feebly against the doctor's arm.
"Don't tell him anything about Cassidy's running away," cautioned Matt, starting down the steps and toward the road. "It would only worry him, and we'll carry out the work that has been given to us, in spite of Cassidy and Fingal."
"He knows about it already," said Dick. "We discovered Cassidy and the other chap making for the schooner while we were coming ashore."
"Did the captain give Cassidy permission to leave the submarine?"
"No. Carl said that the captain became unconscious just when the mate started up to hoist the flag, and that the mate took another pull at the flask and went on up the conning tower ladder. It was French leave he took, nothing less. As soon as Dr. Armstrong got to theGrampushe wasn't any time at all in bringing the captain to his senses, and the first man Nemo, Jr., asked about was Cassidy."
By that time the carriage, which was proceeding slowly, was opposite Matt, Dick, and Jordan, who formed a little group on the sidewalk. In response to a gesture from the captain, the vehicle came to a halt.
"You are the American consul?" asked the captain, making an effort to straighten up.
"Yes," replied Jordan.
"I am Captain Nemo, Jr., of the submarineGrampus. My unfortunate illness puts me out of the work that lies ahead of the boat and her crew, but Motor Matt, there, is perfectly capable of discharging the duties of master. I should feel quite sure of the outcome if it was not for the mate. He has deserted, and I am positive he intends to make trouble. You must get away as soon as possible, Matt. Cassidy went the other way from the Rio Dolce—which is a move I can't understand, if he is planning to interfere with the rescue of Coleman."
Matt and Jordan exchanged quick looks. The captain, having no information to the contrary, was still under the impression conveyed by the sealed orders, viz.: that the captured consul was on the Rio Dolce instead of the river Izaral. Neither Matt nor Jordan attempted to set the captain straight.
Evidently the captain had talked more than was good for him, for when he finished he collapsed, and had hardly strength enough to say good-by. As he was driven off, Matt gazed after him sympathetically.
"Strange that a few hours should make such a difference in Captain Nemo, Jr.," he murmured.
"The climatic change perhaps had something to do with it, Matt," suggested Jordan. "But we can't stand around here, my lad. We've got to hustle—and this isn't a very good climate to hustle in, either. It's the land of take-it-easy. You get the submarine in shape, and I'll hunt up the pilot, get together the war plunder and my own traps, and join you just as quick as the nation will let me. On the jump, my lad, on the jump."
Jordan, suddenly energetic, turned and hastened back into the consulate.
"There's a whole lot to that land lubber, matey," remarked Dick. "He's as full of snap and get-there as any chap I ever saw. But what's the first move? You're the skipper, now, and it's up to you to lay the course."
"We've plenty of stores aboard for the trip we're to make, with the exception of gasoline. TheGrampuswill be in strange waters on a secret mission, and we must make sure of an abundant supply of fuel at the start-off."
The boys were not long in finding a place where they could secure the gasoline, and but little longer in getting a negro carter to convey the barrel to the landing. Here the same colored boatman who had brought Matt and Dick ashore was waiting, and the barrel was loaded and carried out to the submarine.
The sailboat hove-to as close alongside theGrampusas she could get, and both vessels were made fast to each other by ropes. The gasoline barrel was tapped, a hose run out from the conning tower hatch, and the negroes laid hold of a pump and emptied the barrel into the gasoline reservoir of the submarine.
Dick took charge of the transfer of the gasoline, whileMatt went down into the periscope room and called up Speake, Clackett, and Gaines.
"Friends," said the king of the motor boys, "we're off on a short cruise in strange waters—a cruise that will probably call for courage, and will certainly require tact and caution. Mr. Hays Jordan, the American consul, is going with us, and when he comes aboard he will bring a pilot who knows where we are to go and will take us there. You men know that it is Captain Nemo, Jr.'s order that I take charge of the work ahead of us. Have you any objection to that?"
"The captain knew his business," averred Gaines heartily, "and whatever is good enough for him is good enough for us."
Speake and Clackett likewise expressed themselves in the same whole-souled manner.
"Thank you, my lads," said Matt. "I suppose you have heard how the mate went off in a huff. That makes us short-handed, in a way, although the pilot we're to take on will help out. Our work is government work, something for Old Glory, and I feel that we will all of us do our best. We shall have to run all night, and I will arrange to have Ferral relieve Gaines, and Carl relieve Clackett. As for Speake, he will have abundant opportunity to rest, as most of our night work will be on the surface. Speake may now get us something to eat, and after that you will all go to your stations."
Speake was not long in getting his electric stove to work. There were only a few provisions he could prepare without causing an offensive odor, and the limited menu was quickly on the table. Hardly was the meal finished when a boat hove alongside with Jordan. Matt, Dick, and Carl went up on deck to assist the consul in getting his traps aboard.
Jordan had exchanged his white ducks for a trim suit of khaki. Two belts were around his waist, one of them fluted with cartridges, and the other supporting a brace of serviceable revolvers. With him came three Mauser rifles and a box of ammunition.
The pilot was an unkempt half-blood named Tirzal. He was bareheaded and barefooted, and had a ferret-like face and shifty, bead-like eyes.
As soon as the impedimenta was stowed below decks, Matt instructed Tirzal in the steering of the submarine. The boat could be maneuvred either from the conning tower or from the periscope room. When maneuvred from the conning tower, the pilot stood on the iron ladder, using his eyes over the top of the tower hatch; when steered from below, compass and periscope were used.
Tirzal grasped the details with surprising quickness, his little eyes snapping with wonder as they saw the panorama of ocean, shore and shipping on the mirror top of the periscope table.
While these instructions were going forward, Gaines and Dick had gone into the motor room, Clackett and Carl had posted themselves in the place from which the submerging tanks were operated, and Speake had gone forward into the torpedo room.
"We're all ready," said Matt. "Take to the conning tower, Tirzal, and give your signals."
The half-breed, as proud as a peacock to have the management of this strange craft under his hands, got up the ladder until only his bare feet and legs from the knees down were visible.
Matt, posting himself by the periscope, divided his attention between the panorama unfolded there and the work of Tirzal. He was considerably relieved by the handy manner in which the half-breed took hold of his work.
With ballast tanks empty, and theGrampusriding as high in the water as she could, the motor got to work the instant the anchors were off the bottom and stowed.
"We're off, Jordan!" cried Matt.
"Off on one of the strangest cruises I ever took part in," returned the consul, his face glowing with the novelty of the situation; "and it's a cruise, my boy," he added, a little more soberly, "which is going to demand all our resourcefulness in the matter of tact, skill, and courage. Even then there's a chance that——"
Jordan did not finish, but gave Matt a look which expressed plainly all that he had left unsaid.
THE LANDING PARTY.
During that night run down the coast theGrampuswas driven at full speed. The electric projector was fitted against the lunettes of the conning tower, and threw an eye of light far out over the dark water.
It was the hope of those aboard the submarine that they would be able to overhaul and pass the schooner,North Star, which, presumably, was rushing on ahead of them to interfere in some manner with the work cut out for theGrampus.
The schooner had about three hours' start of the submarine, but the latter craft was keeping to the surface and traveling at such a speed that it was thought she would surely overtake the other boat before the mouth of the Izaral was reached.
However, in this Matt and Jordan were disappointed. They passed one steamer, creeping up the coast, but not another craft did they see.
"TheNorth Starwon't be able to ascend the Izaral, anyhow," commented Jordan. "If Fingal communicates with the revolutionists, he will have to send a small boat—and perhaps we can overhaul that boat before it reaches the headquarters of the insurgent force."
There was a certain amount of sleep for everybody aboard theGrampus, that night, but Motor Matt, Dick and Carl slept the first half of the night, and, after that, relieved Gaines and Clackett; Speake caught cat naps off and on; Jordan stretched himself out on top of the locker in the periscope room and took his forty winks with nothing to bother him; and Tirzal, when the submarine was in a fairly clear stretch of her course, was relieved by Matt and sent down to curl up on the floor and snore to his heart's content.
The tireless motor hummed the song familiar in Matt's ears, and the excitement of the work in prospect kept him keyed to highest pitch in spite of his loss of rest.
In the gray of early morning, an hour after Matt had turned off the electric projector, he sighted the mouth of a river with high, bluffy banks on each side. On one of the banks, peeping out from a covert of royal palms, was a small village. Directly across the stream from the village, commanding both the river and the small harbor in front of the town, was a rude fort.
Matt called Tirzal.
"She's de ruvver, all right, you bet," declared Tirzal, after taking a look at the periscope. "Stop um boat, boss," he added. "We no want de people in de town to see um."
Matt halted the submarine with the touch of a push button.
"We'd better submerge, Matt," called Jordan. "That's the way we've got to get up the river, and it's our proper course for dodging around the town. Can you see anything of the schooner?"
"There are only a few small native boats in the harbor," answered Matt. "The schooner isn't in sight."
"Beats the deuce what's become of the boat," growled the consul. "If she sent a launch up the river, the schooner ought to be somewhere around waiting for the launch to get back."
"She may have pulled off down the coast just to keep clear of us. How's the water in the river?"
"Him planty deep to where we go, boss," spoke up Tirzal. "Sometime him t'irty feet, mos'ly fifty feet. Eberyt'ing go fine if we keep in de channel."
"We'll be on the safe side," went on Matt, "and just swing along with the water over our decks and the top of the conning tower. Ten foot submergence, Clackett," he added through a speaking tube connecting with the tank room.
"Aye, aye, sir," came back the voice of Clackett.
The hiss of escaping air as the water came into the tanks was heard, and Matt secured the hatch and came down the ladder.
The hissing ceased suddenly.
"We're ten feet down, Matt," reported Clackett through the tube.
"Take the wheel, Tirzal," said Matt.
With head under the periscope hood and one hand on the wheel, Tirzal rang for slow speed ahead. Matt and Jordan likewise gave their attention to the periscope mirror and watched, with curious wonder, while the tropical river unfolded beneath their eyes like a moving picture.
The Izaral was bank-full. As theGrampusrounded the northern bluff and swerved into the river channel, the high, steep banks, covered with dense foliage, resembled a narrow lane with a blank wall at its farther end. When the boat pushed into the stream, however, and fought the current for three or four hundred yards, the seemingly blank wall gave place to an abrupt turn.
The submarine took the turn and entered upon another stretch of the lane.
This part of the river was as perfect a solitude as though removed thousands of miles from human habitations. At a distance of perhaps two miles from the coast the high banks dwindled to low rises, and on each side was an unbroken forest; the banks were overflowed; the trees seemed to grow out of the water, their branches spreading across so as almost to shut out the light of the sun and were reflected in the water as in a mirror.
Birds of gaudy plumage fluttered among the trees, and here and there in a bayou alligators could be seen stretching their torpid bodies in the black ooze.
Tirzal kept his eyes glued to the periscope. The channel was crooked and dangerous, and a moment's neglect might hurl the submarine into a muddy bank, causing trouble and delay, if not actual peril.
For two or three miles farther Tirzal kept the river channel. Finally they came close to a spot where a deep, narrow stream entered the Izaral on the right. Tirzal turned into this branch and, after ascending it for some fifty yards, had the propeller slowed until it just counteracted the current and held theGrampusstationary.
"We got to de place, boss," said Tirzal, lifting himself erect with a deep breath of relief. "Now we come to de top an' tie de boat to a couple ob trees on de sho'."
"Where are the revolutionists?" asked Matt.
"Dey a good ways off, boss. We hab to take to de bank an' go find um. I know de way. Here's where de boats come. You see um pitpan close by de bank? Him rebel's boat."
"Do you suppose," queried Matt, turning to the consul, "that the schooner sent word to the rebels by means of the pitpan?"
Jordan shook his head perplexedly.
"They wouldn't do that. The pitpan is no more than a mahogany log, hollowed out, and would be a poor sort of craft to row against the current of the Izaral while it's at the flood. I can't understand why we don't see or hear something connected with the schooner. Perhaps," and the consul's face brightened, "Fingal and Cassidy are on the wrong track, after all."
"You go to de top, boss," put in Tirzal, "an' me swim asho' wid rope; den we warp um boat close to de bank."
As a preparation for his swim, the half-breed began to divest himself of his clothes.
Matt gave the order to empty the ballast tanks by compressed air, and theGrampusarose to the surface to the tune of water splashing from the tanks.
"A party will have to land for the purpose of reconnoitring the position of the rebels," said Jordan. "I would suggest, Matt, that the landing party consist of myself, Tirzal, of course, and some other person who you think can be easily spared. A strong force will have to remain with theGrampus, for our situation is encompassed with dangers. Before we can plan our dash successfully, we shall have to know something of the lay of the land and the disposition of the force that is guarding Coleman."
"You are right," returned Matt. "I ought to remain with the submarine——"
"And get a little sleep," cut in the consul. "You've been on duty all night and must rest up so as to be ready for the sharp work when it comes."
"I'll have Speake go with you and Tirzal," said Matt. "How long will you be gone, Jordan?"
"Not more than two or three hours at the outside."
By then theGrampuswas at the surface, and Matt climbed the ladder and threw back the hatch. Gaining the dripping iron deck, he looked and listened. The thick forest lay on every side, and the silence was broken only by the flapping of wings, and the lazy splash of alligators in a near-by bayou.
Tirzal, a rope around his waist, scrambled clear of the conning tower and slipped from the deck into the water. He swam swiftly and silently to the bank, pulled himself up, untied the end of the rope from about his waist and passed it around a tree.
Dick gained the deck, made the boat end of the rope fast to an iron ring in the bow, and watched while Tirzal lay back on the cable with all his strength and hauled the bow shoreward, a foot at a time.
"The bank lays steep-to, matey," announced Dick, "and we can run the nose of the old flugee right into solid ground."
"That will make it easier for Jordan and Speake to effect a landing," said Matt.
A few minutes of pulling on Tirzal's part brought the point of the submarine's bow against the bank. Speake had come up on deck with one of the rifles. A moment later Jordan followed him, with Carl trailing along in his wake.
Jordan carried two rifles, one for himself and one for Tirzal, and also Tirzal's bundle of clothes.
"We're taking all the rifles, Matt," said Jordan, "but I have left my cartridge belt and six-shooters in the periscope room. If you should be attacked—which I hardly expect—your best defense will be to sink to the bottom of the river. We'll be back in three hours. If we're not, you'll know something has gone wrong with us. But don't fret about that. Tirzal knows the country, and he'll steer us clear of trouble."
Speake and Jordan made their way to the point of the bow and sprang ashore. As soon as Tirzal had slipped into his clothes and grasped the rifle, the three comprising the landing party waved their hands to those on the deck of the boat and vanished into the forest.
"Dose fellers vas going to haf all der fun," grumbled Carl.
"I don't think anybody is going to have a monopoly of the 'fun,' as you call it, Carl," said Matt grimly. "You and Dick stay on deck and keep a sharp watch for rebels. I'm going to the periscope room to take a nap. In order to be on the safe side, Dick, you'd better let theGrampusslide back toward the middle of the stream. Leave the cable on the tree and pay it off from the bow of the boat."
"Aye, aye, matey," answered Dick.
"Call me if anything happens," said Matt, climbing into the conning tower.
On reaching the periscope room, he signaled Gaines to stop the motor, and told him and Clackett that the submarine was moored, and that they could either sleep or go on deck, as they preferred.
Matt, thoroughly tired out by his long night vigil, stretched himself on the locker and was soon sound asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but he was suddenly aroused by a pounding of feet on the steel deck, startled cries and a tremendous splashing of water.
Thinking that Dick and Carl, who had comprised the anchor watch, had been caught napping, and that the revolutionists were making an attack on the boat, he leaped up, caught the first weapon he could lay hold of, and darted for the iron ladder.
The weapon happened to be an old harpoon belonging to Speake, who had once had a berth aboard a whaling ship.
When Matt lifted his head above the rim of the conning tower hatch, a strange scene met his eyes.
CARL IN TROUBLE.
The most prominent object that met Motor Matt's startled eyes was a big bull alligator. The creature was thrashing about in the water, now striking the sides of theGrampuswith its powerful tail, and now making an attack on the pitpan, or dugout canoe, which has already been referred to.
Carl Pretzel was in the canoe, and he was wildly anxious to get back to the submarine. The alligator, however, was floundering around in the stretch of water between Carl and theGrampus.
"Helup!" whooped Carl. "Der olt man-eader vill ged me oof you don'd do somet'ing."
It hadn't seemed to occur to the Dutch boy that he could go ashore—being much nearer the bank, in fact, than the submarine.
Dick had a hatchet which he had picked up from somewhere on the deck. He rushed back to the conning tower and climbed into it, thus securing an elevated position which offered some advantage in case he hurled the hatchet at the big saurian.
"Paddle ashore, Carl!" called Matt.
"Dot's so," gasped Carl; "meppy I vill. Coax der pig feller avay; I don'd like how he uses dot tail oof his."
Carl fell to work with his paddle. By that time, however, the alligator's temper was aroused, and, before Carl had got the pitpan turned, the big creature glided forward, opened its ponderous jaws and closed them about the forward end of the dugout.[B]
[B]The common supposition that an alligator uses only his tail as a weapon of offense and defense is erroneous. His tail is for swimming purposes, and his big jaws are his main reliance in combat.
[B]The common supposition that an alligator uses only his tail as a weapon of offense and defense is erroneous. His tail is for swimming purposes, and his big jaws are his main reliance in combat.
There was a frightful crash, and the sides of the pitpan were stove in like an eggshell. One end of the wrecked boat was pushed high in the water, and Carl, at the other end, was in sore straits.
"Helup, or I vas a goner!" yelled Carl, leaping into the water as Motor Matt made ready to hurl the harpoon.
Carl's predicament had become serious in the extreme. If the enraged reptile turned on him, his doom was sealed. The task for Matt and Dick, which they recognized on the instant, was to wound the alligator and take its attention from the boy in the water.
The harpoon left Matt's hand, and the hatchet left Dick's, at the same moment. The hatchet was turned by the reptile's scaly coat as by so much armor plate. The harpoon, however, by a chance, struck just back of the alligator's fore-leg in the place where the hide was not so thick. The big fellow had lifted head and shoulders out of the water in the fierceness of the attack on the pitpan—which fact alone made Matt's blow possible.
Dick, tumbling out of the conning tower, seized one end of a coil of rope and hurled it toward Carl. The Dutch boy grabbed it, and Dick drew him in rapidly, hand over hand.
The alligator, meantime, had whipped away around the bow of theGrampus, half its head only on the surface, and leaving a reddened trail in its wake.
Carl, sputtering and gasping, fell dripping on the submarine's deck.
"Be jeerful, be jeerful," he mumbled. "I tell you somet'ing, dot vas der glosest call vat efer I hat mit meinseluf. Dot's righdt."
He pulled himself up by means of the periscope mast, and shook his fist after the alligator, which was returning to the bayou.
"You don'd make some meals off me, I bed you!" he taunted. "Nexdt dime you do a t'ing like dot, meppy Ivill haf a rifle hanty. Den, py shinks, I gif you more as you can dake care oof."
"You'll have to pay Speake for that harpoon, Carl," laughed Matt.
"Mit bleasure," answered Carl. "Id vas der harboon vat safed my life."
"How did you come to get in that fix?"
"Veil, I t'ink I vould like to look at dot bitban, so Tick he bulls on der rope und prings der supmarine glose inshore. I shdep off der pow, valk along der pank und ged indo der tugoudt; den I bick oop der baddle und t'ink I vill row pack, as Tick hat let der supmarine oudt indo der rifer again. Schust as I got shdarted, dot pig alligador pobs oop righdt py der poat. I say 'shoo' aber he von'd shoo vort' a cent. Den I drow vone oof der baddles ad him, und he geds madt as some vet hens und pegins vorking dot dail aroundt. Den I vished dot I vas some blace else, und make some yelling. Der resdt iss vat you know. Ach, blitzen! Der bitban iss gone oop, und I vas poody near gone oop meinseluf. Anyhow, a miss iss as goot as a mile, don'd it?"
"It's just as well, I guess," said Matt, "that the dugout has been destroyed. If we were attacked here by the rebels, the boat would have helped them. But you should not have left the submarine, Carl. The noise we have made here may have been heard. In that event, we can expect trouble."
Just at that moment, Clackett and Gaines came up through the hatch.
"What's been going on?" Clackett asked.
"You've missed the fun, matey," returned Dick. "Carl had a little trouble with an alligator, and just got out of it by the skin of his teeth."
"Clackett an' me was asleep," said Gaines. "Blamed funny, though, we didn't hear the rumpus. What woke me was you fellows, talking and walking over the deck. Haven't Speake and Jordan shown up yet?"
"What time is it?" asked Matt.
"It was a little after twelve when Clackett an' me left the torpedo room."
"Great spark plugs!" exclaimed Matt, startled. "I must have slept longer than I supposed. It was nine o'clock when Jordan and the others went ashore. Jordan said they'd be back in three hours, at the outside. More than three hours have passed and they're not back."
Matt's eyes, suddenly filled with anxiety, swept the tree-covered bank.
"Tirzal knew the country, mate," said Dick, "and I guess those fellows are wise enough to steer clear of the rebels while they're trying to locate Coleman."
"Something may have gone wrong with them, for all that. If Cassidy and Fingal managed to get word to the revolutionists, then quite likely Jordan, Speake, and Tirzal got into a snare. If they did, and if——"
Matt was interrupted by the distant report of a rifle, echoing and re-echoing through the dense timber. There was just one report, and then silence fell again; but, during the silence, the troubled glances of those on theGrampusmet questioningly.
"Our landing party has been discovered," declared Matt, who was first to collect his wits. "Dick and I will go ashore and see if we can be of any help. I'll leave you in charge of theGrampus, Gaines. As soon as we are off the boat, you, and Clackett, and Carl cast off from the shore, go below and sink until the periscope ball is just awash. You may have to put out an anchor to hold the boat against the current. One of you keep constantly at the periscope, watching the left-hand bank. If you see one of us come there and wave his arms, you'll know we want you to come up and take us aboard. Be as quick as you can, too, for we may be in a hurry."
"Depend on me, Matt," said Gaines.
"Depend on all of us," added Clackett.
Matt turned to his sailor chum.
"Go into the periscope room, Dick," said he, "and get those two revolvers of Jordan's. Never mind the belts. Empty out some of the cartridges and put them in your pocket. Hustle, old chap."
Dick was only gone a few minutes. During that time Gaines and Clackett were busy with the rope, hauling the submarine back to the bank, and Matt was listening for more firing.
No more reports came from the timber, however, and when Dick reappeared and handed Matt one of the revolvers, both hurried to the bow of the submarine and sprang ashore.
"Don't forget your orders, Gaines," cautioned Matt.
"You can bank on it that I won't, Matt," answered the motorist. "You and Dick look out for yourselves. Don't make a bad matter worse by letting the revolutionists get a grip on you. If they did, we'd be in hard shape for sure."
A FRIEND IN NEED.
At the point where Jordan, Speake and Tirzal had vanished into the wood, Matt and Dick found a faint path—a path so little traveled and so blind that it could not be seen from the deck of theGrampus, even when she was hauled close to the shore.
"It's as plain as a hand spike," remarked Dick, as he and Matt made their way along the path, "that Jordan and the others took a slant in this direction."
"That's the kind of a guess I'd make," said Matt. "By following the path, though, we don't want to forget that they got into trouble. When you're on a road that leads to trouble, Dick, you've either got to leave it or else be mighty careful."
"I don't know how we'd get through this jungle if we didn't follow the path. Tirzal claims to know the country. If that's a fact, then it's main queer he couldn't pilot Jordan and Speake around any stray groups of insurrectos."
"Our failure to see anything of the schooner while we were off the coast, or anything of a launch from the schooner while we were coming up the river, rather gave Jordan the idea that Fingal and Cassidy were on the wrong track. But I'm inclined to think Jordan was wide of his trail. They must have sent word here and enabled the revolutionists to fix up some sort of a trap."
"Shiver me! I can't begin to tell you how surprised I am at the way Cassidy is acting—that is, if he's gone into cahoots with this swab of a Fingal for the purpose of backcapping our plans to save one of our own countrymen. What sort of a two-faced bandicoot is Cassidy, anyhow? He must be mighty sore to act like that. But mayhap you're mistaken, Matt."
"I hope I am," returned Matt gravely. "I always likedCassidy, and I hate to see a good man go wrong in such a way as that."
The boys had dropped their voices to an undertone. While they talked, they hurried ahead along the dim, winding path, keeping their eyes constantly ahead.
Owing to the close growth of trees, but very little sun filtered to the ground below, and a twilight gloom hovered over the narrow way. Matt was in advance, and suddenly he halted, whirled on Dick and pulled him behind a matted vine that hung from a tree beside the path.
"Hist!" whispered Matt, in his chum's ear. "I can hear voices around the turn in the path ahead. Some one is coming this way. Crouch down and perhaps they'll go past without seeing us."
Scarcely breathing, the two boys knelt behind the matted vine, each holding his weapon ready in case they should be discovered and compelled to fight for their freedom.
It was not long before the men whom Matt had heard came straggling around the turn in the path. To their amazement, no less a person than Fingal was at the head of the column. The light was none too good for making observations at a distance, but there could be no mistaking the burly form in the dingy blue cap and coat and dungaree trousers.
Fingal slouched along with the thwartship roll of a sailor with stable ground under him. At his back came half a dozen nondescript men, of various shades of color from coal black to light yellow.
These men, no doubt, formed part of the rebel army. They were all barefooted, their clothes were ragged, and they wore straw hats. Each had a machete strapped about his waist, but there the uniformity of their accoutrements ceased. Two had no arms apart from the machetes; one of the remaining four had a long-barreled, muzzle-loading rifle, and the other three had revolvers. Fingal had no rifle, but there was a belt about his waist that supported a six-shooter over his hip.
The file was still talking as it passed the two boys, but it was Spanish talk and neither Matt nor Dick could understand anything that was said.
Without seeing the boys, the file swept on and vanished around another bend. Matt drew a long breath of relief.
"We're out of that mess, Dick," he murmured, getting up and stepping back into the path. "I guess we've settled all doubts about Cassidy and Fingal. Fingal's here, and I'll bet something handsome Cassidy can't be very far off."
"Cassidy's trying to down us," growled Dick, "and that's as plain as the nose on your face. The old Sou'wegian! He ought to be trussed up at a grating and pounded with the 'cat' for this. I never thought it of the old sorehead! Where do you suppose that pack is going?"
"They're looking for theGrampus, I guess."
Dick chuckled.
"And the oldGrampusis ten feet under water! If Gaines is next to his job, he's fixed things so they won't be able to see even the periscope ball."
"Trust Gaines to do everything possible. I don't think the submarine is in any particular danger, but we couldn't help her any if she was. We'll keep on and see where this trouble road lands us."
"Aye, aye, old ship! Luck seems to be on our side, so far, and here's hoping that it will stay with us."
Matt once more took the lead and set the pace. The ground they were covering had a slight inclination upward, and the path continued to wriggle, serpent fashion, through the dense growth of timber.
It was the almost impenetrable screen of the woods that suddenly plunged the boys into difficulties. Rounding an abrupt turn, beyond which it was impossible to see because of the dense foliage, Matt and Dick plunged recklessly into full view of an encampment. It was a large encampment, too, and pitched in the midst of a big clearing. The place was not a hundred yards off, and Matt, pulling himself short up, got a glimpse of black soldiers lolling and smoking under rough canvas shelters.
For an instant he halted and stared; then whirled face about.
"Back, Dick!" he exclaimed. "Run, run for your life!"
The words were hardly necessary. The boys had been seen and a wild clamor came from the encampment. A fizzing sputter of firearms awoke echoes in the timber, and scraps of lead could be heard slapping and zipping through the leaves.
"We might be good for three or four," panted Dick, as he stretched his legs along the path, "but we have to knock under when the whole rebel army gets after us."
"Save your breath!" cried Matt. "Run!"
"Where'll we run to? That other pack, with Fingal, is ahead."
"Never mind. The largest force is behind."
The dark-skinned rebels were tearing along like mad. The boys, looking over their shoulders, could see them wherever the path straightened out into a short, straight-away stretch. At such times, too, some one of the pursuing rabble let fly with a bullet. The bullets went wild, for there is no such thing as accurate shooting by a man who is on the run.
The boys were holding their own—perhaps doing a little better.
"We can distance 'em," puffed Dick, "if they'll only give us a little time. We'll be around the next turn and halfway to the one beyond before they show up again."
Dick had hardly finished speaking before he came to a sudden halt.
"Keep on!" panted Matt.
"Can't! We're between two fires, matey. That other gang has heard the firing and is coming back. Let's get behind trees and do the best we can for ourselves. Oh, thisisa rum go!"
Matt was able to hear the men racing along in advance of them, and the larger force behind was drawing nearer and nearer.
The outlook was dark, and the only thing left for the boys to do seemed to be to dig into the dense undergrowth and take their chances of being tracked down.
With one accord they sprang toward the left-hand side of the path. The timber, in that direction, seemed a trifle less thick than on the right.
Before they had vanished they heard a guarded voice calling from the right.
"Matt! Motor Matt!"
Startled at hearing his name, the young motorist paused and whirled about. His astonishment grew. A woman—a young woman—had emerged through the trailing creepers and was beckoning wildly.
"This way!" she called, still in the same guarded tone. "Quick, if you want to save yourselves."
A moment more and Matt and Dick both recognized the speaker. She was not one whom they would have trusted had circumstances been other than they were. Just then, however, but little choice was left them.
"It's that or nothing," muttered Dick, and he and Matt charged back across the path and followed the girl into a tangle of bushes.
Hardly had they vanished when both parties of pursuers pushed into sight from right and left.
STRANGE REVELATIONS.
It was in New Orleans that an attractive young lady, with liquid Spanish eyes, had called to see Motor Matt and had told him many things which were not true. Because of this misinformation, Motor Matt had been lured into the hands of Captain Jim Sixty, the filibuster. The girl who had been instrumental in carrying out this plot against the king of the motor boys was Ysabel Sixty, Captain Sixty's daughter.
The distrust of Matt and Dick, even at the moment when they were hemmed in on both sides by the revolutionists, will be understood when it is explained that their "friend in need" was none other than Ysabel Sixty.
The boys were amazed to see her there in that rebel-haunted wilderness, but they repressed their excitement and curiosity until the girl had led them unerringly to a little cleared space in the heart of the woods.
Here there was a rude shelter constructed of a ragged tarpaulin, and anolla, or earthen water jar, suspended from the branches of a tree.
The girl turned and faced the boys as soon as they reached this primitive camp.
"You are safe, for the present," said she. "I am glad I could do something to help you."
"Strike me lucky!" growled Dick, his keen eyes on the girl's face. "Are you helping us, Ysabel Sixty, or luring us into another trap, like you did up in New Orleans?"
A look of sadness and contrition swept over the girl's face. It was a pretty face—not so pretty as it had been in New Orleans, for now it was worn and haggard—and that ripple of sorrow touched it softly.
"I have paid for all that," said the girl slowly. "I have paid for it with more bitter regrets than I can tell. Now, maybe, I can help to undo the wrong. What I did in New Orleans I did not do willingly. My father threatened to kill me if I failed to carry out his wishes. Now he is in the hands of the law, you are free, and I am adrift in this wild country."
There was something in the girl's voice that touched both Matt and Dick. It could not be that she was again playing a part, for there was that in her words and manner which told of sincerity.
"How do you happen to be here?" asked Matt.
"My father, as I suppose you have heard, left the steamerSanta Mariato go on the schoonerNorth Starand hunt for his water-logged brig. I continued on to Belize on theSanta Maria, with orders from my father to take the first boat from Belize to Port Livingstone, at the mouth of the Izaral. There I was met by some of General Pitou's soldiers, and brought out to this camp to wait until my father, or my uncle, should come. My father did not come, and will not. My uncle has already arrived, and it is to avoid him that I have come away by myself, into this part of the woods."
"Who is your uncle, Ysabel?" asked Matt.
"Abner Fingal."
This took the breath of both of the boys.
"Fingal!" exclaimed Matt.
"His real name is Sixty," explained the girl, "and he is my father's brother. He is captain of the schooner that has been helping the revolutionists, and he has sworn vengeance on all those who had anything to do with my father's capture."
"That means us, matey," and Dick turned for an apprehensive look through the timber in the direction of the path. "I never dreamed of anything like that," he added.
"It's not generally known," said the girl, "that Captain Fingal and Captain Sixty are in any way related. They have both been helping the revolutionists, and, if the uprising was a success, they were to be rewarded."
"You ran away from the rebel camp in order to avoid Fingal?"
"Yes."
"Why was that?"
A flush ran through the girl's haggard face.
"My uncle wants me to marry General Pitou, a Frenchman who is in command of the revolutionists. When I marry," and the words came spitefully and with a stamp of the foot, "I shall marry to please myself, and not some one else."
"Right-o, my lass!" approved Dick. "Don't let 'em bullyrag you into marrying a Frenchie, anyhow."
"I heard that my uncle was expected to reach the camp soon," went on the girl, "and I ran away last night. Pedro, a Mexican who used to be a sailor on my father's brig, helped me to get away. He fixed that little tent for me, and this morning, when he brought me breakfast, he told me some news."
"What was that?" inquired Matt, scenting something of importance.
"Why, Pedro said that my uncle, together with another man named Cassidy, had come over from Port Livingstone on a little gasoline boat which they had stolen from the custom-house officer in the town. They brought information that a boat that travels under water was coming to release the American prisoner. Of course," and the girl smiled a little, "I knew who it was that was coming in that under-water boat, so I made Pedro tell me everything he knew.
"He said the boat was coming from Belize, and that the American consul to British Honduras might come with it. He told me that Fingal informed the general that it would be possible to entrap the other consul, and that this would give the rebels two valuable prisoners to hold until the American government would exchange Captain Sixty for them. The plan was to capture the under-water boat and all on board. Fingal and this man Cassidy were to have the boat, and Fingal was to be allowed to do whatever he pleased with all the prisoners except the consul."
"We know what that meant, matey," said Dick, making a wry face. "The old hunks wanted to make us walk the plank for the part we played in the capture of Jim Sixty."
"Pedro said," went on Ysabel, "that General Pitou doubled the guards all around the camp so that those who came to rescue Coleman would not only fail, but would be captured themselves."
"The plan must have worked out pretty well," observed Matt. "Did Pedro tell you whether any of the rescuers had been captured?"
"He came very early this morning," answered Ysabel, "before the general's plans had been carried out."
"Mr. Coleman is with the insurgents?" asked Matt.
"He has been with them for a long time."
"Is he well treated?"
"As well as he can be. The rebels are half starved, but Mr. Coleman shares their rations with them."
"Where is he kept?"
"In a tent in the middle of the encampment. He is constantly under guard, but, while I was in the camp, I was able to talk with him. We were the only ones who could speak English, and the soldiers were not able to understand us. I told Mr. Coleman that I was going to run away, and he said it was the best thing I could do. He asked me, before I left, to take a letter from him to the customs officer at Port Livingstone. But he wasn't able to write the letter before Pedro helped me get away."
Here was great news, but not wholly satisfactory. The captured consul was alive and well cared for; but he was also well guarded in the heart of the insurgents' camp.
"That puts me in a blue funk," muttered Dick. "I wouldn't give a hap'orth for our chances of doing anything for Coleman. If we get away from here ourselves, we'll be doing well. And then, too, what's become of Jordan, Speake and Tirzal? I hate to make a guess, for it fair dashes me."
Matt was also very much alarmed on account of their missing companions; in some way, however, he hoped through Ysabel Sixty to be able to accomplish something—if not for Coleman, then at least for Jordan and the two with him.
"How did you happen to be so close by, Ysabel," queried Matt, "when Dick and I were so sorely in need of help?"
"Pedro said that you would probably make a landing in the Purgatoire, which is a branch of the Izaral, and that the general was watching closely the path that led from the branch to the encampment. I heard a number of rifle shots, and that led me to hurry toward the path. I got there just in time to see you. I am sorry for what I was compelled to do in New Orleans, and if I can help you any now I wish you would let me."
"You have already been a lot of help to us," said Matt. "Whether you can help us any more or not remains to be seen. Perhaps, Ysabel, we may be able to helpyoua little."
"How?" she returned, leveling her lustrous black eyes upon him.
"You can't remain here, in this poor camp, indefinitely," went on Matt. "Pedro is taking a good many chances, I should think, coming here to smuggle food to you. What would happen if General Pitou was to catch Pedro? In that case you would be left without any one to look after you."
"I know that," answered the girl, drawing a long face, "but anything is better than being compelled to marry the general. Iwon'tdo that!" and again she stamped her foot angrily.
"What are your plans?" asked Matt.
"Pedro is going to try and get a pitpan for me and send me down to Port Livingstone. He says there is a pitpan on the Purgatoire, and that, just as soon as the hour is favorable, he will start me for the town."
"That pitpan has been stove in and destroyed," said Matt, "so you can't count on that. Why not go down the river with us, in theGrampus? Have you friends in Port Livingstone?"
"No," replied the girl, a flash of pleasure crossing her face at Matt's suggestion that she go away in the submarine, "but I have good friends in Belize—my mother's people. They will take care of me. I should have stayed there instead of coming on to Port Livingstone as my father told me."
"Then it's settled," said Matt definitely; "we're going to take you with us when we go."
"When are you going?" asked the girl.
"Just as soon as we can find out what has become of the rest of our party and do something to help them."
"The rest of your party? Who are they?"
Thereupon Matt began to tell the girl about Jordan, Speake and Tirzal, how they had come ashore to reconnoitre and had not returned. Barely had he finished when a low whistle, like a signal, floated out of the depths of the wood. Matt and Dick jumped and clutched their revolvers.
"It's Pedro!" whispered the girl. "You have nothing to fear from him, but he mustn't see you. Hide—over there, behind those bushes—and wait till he goes away."
Matt and Dick hurried in the direction of the girl's pointing finger. They had no sooner got safely out of sight than Pedro came running breathlessly into the little clearing.
ONE CHANCE IN TEN.
Pedro was as ragged as all the rest of the rebels, but he was brown, not black or yellow. He was barefooted and wore on his head a battered straw hat. His only weapon was a machete, fastened about his waist by a piece of rope. He was a man of middle age, and from his manner there was not the least doubt of his loyalty to the daughter of his former captain. He carried a small parcel, knotted up in a dusty handkerchief, and laid it on the ground near the water jar; then, drawing off and keeping close watch of the timber behind him, he began speaking hurriedly in Spanish.
The girl's face lighted up as she listened. Once in a while she interrupted the torrent of words pouring from Pedro's lips to put in a question, then subsided and let the torrent flow on.
For five minutes, perhaps, Pedro talked and gesticulated. At the end of that time he pulled off his tattered hat, extracted a scrap of folded paper from the crown and handed it to the girl. Then, with a quick, low-spoken "Adios!" he vanished into the forest.
As soon as he was safely away, Ysabel turned toward the bushes where the boys had been concealed and clapped her hands.
"Come!" she called; "I have something to tell you."
Matt and Dick hurried to join her.
"What's it about?" asked Dick eagerly.
"It's about your friends, of whom you were telling me when Pedro came. They have been captured——"
"Keelhaul me! There's nothing very pleasing about that."
"Didn't you expect it?" the girl asked. "You knew something must have happened to them when they failed to return to the boat."
"Yes," spoke up Matt, "we expected it, but I think both of us had a hope that they had merely been pursued into the wood and were working their way back to theGrampus."
"The men General Pitou had set to watch the path from the Purgatoire were the ones who captured them. Mr. Jordan had time to fire just one shot before they were seized, but that bullet wounded a captain, one of the general's best men. Pedro says General Pitou is very angry, and that he is going to keep all the prisoners and not release them until the United States government gives up my father."
"The government will never do that," said Matt. "Our country is too big to be bullied by a handful of rebels, 'way down here in Central America."
"Then General Pitou says the prisoners will all be killed."
There was little doubt in Matt's mind but that this irresponsible rebel general would be reckless enough to carry out his threat.
"Oh, but we've made a monkey's fist of this, all right," growled Dick. "We come down here to rescue Coleman, and, instead of doing that, we leave Jordan, Speake and Tirzal in the enemy's hands. A nice run of luck this is!"
Matt was equally cast down.
"Tirzal is to be shot as a spy," went on Ysabel.
"Poor chap! But what could you expect? I hope the president of this two-by-twice republic will capture every man-jack of the rebels and bowse every last one of them up to the yardarm. That's what they're entitled to, from General Pitou down."
"Did Pedro have anything to say about us?" inquired Matt.
"That's where the good part of it comes in," went on the girl. "The rebels think you're in the woods, somewhere to the north of the path. All the general's force, excepting about twenty-five armed men who are guarding the prisoners at the encampment, are hunting through the timber in the hope of catching you. Fingal is helping in the search, and vows he will make you pay dearly for the part you played in the capture of my father."
"I fail to see anything pleasant in all this, even yet," continued Dick. "I thought you said that here was where the good part comes in?"
"Can't you see?" cried the girl. "If all the rebels, outside the encampment, are looking for you in the timber the other side of the path, why, that leaves the way clear to the submarine. We can go there, right off, and get away from General Pitou and his men."
There was a short silence after this. Matt and Dick were both turning the subject over in their minds. When their eyes sought each other, dogged determination could be read in each glance.
"As you say, Ysabel," said Matt, "we have an opportunity to get back to the submarine, but we can't go and leave our friends behind us."
"You—can't—go?" breathed the girl, staring at Matt as though she scarcely understood his words. "Why can't you go?" she went on, almost fiercely. "Your friends are captured, and how can you hope to get them away from twenty-five armed men? Don't be so foolish! Get away while you can—pretty soon it will be too late, and if you are caught you will be shot."
"What's in that handkerchief, Ysabel?" queried Dick, pointing to the parcel Pedro had placed on the ground near the water jar.
"Food," said the girl curtly. "Eat it, if you want to. I'm not hungry."
She was in a temper because Matt and Dick would not hurry away to the submarine. She could not understand why they should delay their flight when it was manifestly impossible for them to be of any help to their captured friends. As if to further emphasize her displeasure, she turned her back on the boys.
Dick stared at her, and then swerved an amused glance upon his chum.
"Didn't Pedro give you a note, Ysabel?" asked Matt gently.
"Yes. It was from Coleman. He managed to write it and give it to Pedro for me. It is mine."
"Suppose you read it? Perhaps there is something in it that is important."
Ysabel partly turned and threw the note on the ground at Matt's feet.
"You can read it," she said.
Matt picked up the scrap and opened it out. It was written in lead pencil, on the back of an old envelope.
"I hope you can get away some time to-day in that pitpan Pedro was telling you about. If you can do that, you can help all the prisoners now in General Pitou's hands. Some time soon we are to be taken down the Izaral halfway to Port Livingstone, where the rebels have another camp which they consider safer than this one. We will all go in the gasoline launch which was stolen, early this morning, by Fingal and Cassidy. Tell this to the customs officer at Port Livingstone, and ask him to do his best to intercept the launch and help us. I cannot write more—I have not time."
"I hope you can get away some time to-day in that pitpan Pedro was telling you about. If you can do that, you can help all the prisoners now in General Pitou's hands. Some time soon we are to be taken down the Izaral halfway to Port Livingstone, where the rebels have another camp which they consider safer than this one. We will all go in the gasoline launch which was stolen, early this morning, by Fingal and Cassidy. Tell this to the customs officer at Port Livingstone, and ask him to do his best to intercept the launch and help us. I cannot write more—I have not time."
This was the note.
"Shiver me!" muttered Dick dejectedly, "if the old cutthroat, Pitou, has his prisoners taken farther back in the jungle, there'll be no possibility of rescuing them. We're on the reefs now, for sure."
Matt turned to Ysabel. Her anger was passing as quickly as it had mounted, and she seemed anxious to meet any question Matt should ask her.
"When Fingal and Cassidy came up the river in the gasoline launch," said Matt, "did they turn into the Purgatoire branch?"
"No. Pedro said that they went on up the Izaral, and got across to the encampment by another road through the woods."
"Then, if the prisoners are brought down in the launch they'll have to pass the mouth of the Purgatoire?"
"Yes."
"Dick," said Matt, "there's a chance that we can do something to that boat load of prisoners."
"What?" queried Dick, pricking up his ears.
"We can go back to the submarine, drop down the Purgatoire and wait there, submerged, until the gasoline launch comes down."
"Then what, matey?" asked Dick.
"Then we'll do whatever we can. There'll be five of us on the submarine, and I don't see why we couldn't accomplish something."
But Dick shook his head.
"You don't know, matey," said he, "that Coleman's information is correct. It's hardly likely that Pitou would blow the gaff to one of his prisoners."
"Coleman may have found it out in some other way than from General Pitou."
"Well, the launch may already have dropped down the river."
"Hardly, I think, when most of the rebels are out looking for us. There's a chance, Dick."
"One chance in ten, I should say, matey."
"That's better than no chance at all, which seems to be what we have here."
"We've worse than no chance at all, out in this scrub with the rebel army looking for us. If we're caught, we'll be done browner than a kippered herring. Although I haven't much hope, I'm for making a quick slant in the direction of theGrampus."
"Then you're going to the submarine?" asked Ysabel joyfully.
"Yes, and we'd better start at once while the coast seems to be clear."
The girl clapped her hands and started for the timber.
"Do you want this?" asked Dick, lifting the bundle from beside the water jar.
"No, it's only food—my dinner that Pedro brought me. You have plenty on the submarine, haven't you?"
"Yes," Matt laughed.
"Then hang that to a tree branch for Pedro. Probably he robbed himself to help me. He'll come back and get it."
Dick twisted the knots of the handkerchief into the end of a branch and they all started hurriedly back toward the path.
The difficulties of the way made it necessary for them to travel in single file. Matt went ahead, Ysabel followed him, and Dick brought up the rear.
In ten minutes they were back in the path and hurrying swiftly in the direction of the Purgatoire. But ill luck was still following them, like an evil spectre.
They had not gone far along the course before a rebel soldier sprang from the timber into the path at Matt's side.
The surprise was mutual, and, for an instant, Matt and the negro stared at each other. Fortunately the negro had no firearms. He drew his machete, but before he could aim a stroke with it, Matt had leaped forward and struck his arm a fierce blow with the butt of Jordan's revolver.
A yell of pain fell from the negro's lips, his arm dropped at his side and he jumped backward into the woods.
"Quick," shouted Matt to those behind. "There may be others with him and we'll have to make a dash for theGrampus. Run on ahead, Dick, and get the submarine up and close to the bank. I'll follow you with Ysabel."
Dick would have demurred at this arrangement, but a chorus of wild yells, issuing from the wood, proved that the negro had spread the alarm.
"The boat will be ready for you," shouted Dick, as he passed like a streak along the path.
Seizing the girl's arm, and keeping the revolver in hand, Matt started on as rapidly as the girl could go.