VILLAINOUS WORK.
Gaines and Ah Sin were also sleeping in the torpedo room. As soon as Clackett had left, Matt bent down over the Chinaman and shook him roughly. The Celestial started up and stared blankly into the stern face of the young motorist.
"Wha'chee want?" he asked.
"Is this yours?" inquired Matt, producing the chopstick and studying the Chinaman's face attentively as he did so.
The brim of the old slouch hat—which the yellow man had kept on while sleeping—shaded his eyes, so that Matt's view was not as good as he would have liked to have it. So far as Matt could discover, not a shadow of guilt crossed Ah Sin's face. Thrusting one hand into the breast of his blouse he drew out the mate to the chopstick Matt was holding, a grateful grin split his countenance, and he caught the piece of ebony out of Matt's hand.
"Me losee um, huh?" he chuckled. "My no savvy how me losee um."
"Go up the hatch to the periscope room," ordered Matt.
If Ah Sin was surprised at the command he cloaked his feelings admirably.
Without a word he left the torpedo room, climbed to the deck above, and gained the periscope chamber. Matt pounded on the door of Glennie's quarters, and the ensign quickly opened the door.
"What's wanted?" he asked.
"Take this Chinaman in there with you, Mr. Glennie," said Matt, "and watch him."
"What's he been doing?"
"I don't know that he's been doing anything. I just want him watched, that's all, and you can do it better than any one else."
Glennie stared for a moment, then jerked the Chinaman inside and closed the door.
As Matt turned away, he was conscious of the steady song of the cylinders. Again the motor had taken up its cycle properly—proof that the gasolene secured by Dick in Port-of-Spain was of the right sort.
"I'll take the wheel, Speake," said Matt. "Go to the torpedo room and turn in."
"What was wrong with the motor?" queried Speake, as he gave up the wheel.
"Water in the carburetor."
"Chink put it there?"
"Why should he do that?" returned Matt.
"That's too much for me, Matt, unless he did it by mistake, same as he exploded the gas in that reserve tank."
"I don't know how the water got in the tank, Speake, and it may have been accident quite as much as design."
Speake left Matt to his lonely vigil. The gleam of the little searchlight, reaching out ahead of the submarine, flung an odd picture on the periscope mirror. The edges of the mirror were shrouded in darkness, out of which jumped the smooth, oily billows. The waves flashed like gold in the pencil of light.
Matt, holding theGrampusto her course, looked into the periscope absently. He was thinking of the motor's recent trouble, and of the chopstick lying by the gasolene tank, turning both over in his mind and wondering aimlessly.
Suddenly he lifted his head. An odd note was mixing itself with the croon of the motor and the whir of the ventilator fans. The noise was not caused by anything aboard the submarine, of that Matt was positive. It was like the thrashing of a large propeller, growing rapidly in volume as Matt listened.
Under water sounds are carried far. The noise Matt heard was caught by the submerged hulk of theGrampusand reëchoed as by a sounding-board.
"Half-speed, Dick," he called through the engine-room tube.
As the pace slackened, Matt's eyes again sought the periscope mirror. Abruptly, out of the gloom that walled in the glow of the searchlight, rushed a steamer, its blotted outline crossing directly the submarine's course. There were lights along the steamer's rail, but it was plain her lookouts were asleep or they would have seen theGrampus'searchlight.
Instantly the young motorist was galvanized into strenuous activity.
"Full speed astern—on your life!" he shouted to Dick.
At the same time Matt put the wheel over, hoping to make a turn and get theGrampuson a parallel course with the steamer.
But there was not room, nor time, enough for the turn. Unless the motor stayed theGrampusshe was bound to crash into the other vessel.
Dick, however, got the propeller to turning the other way just at the critical moment. The speed of the submarine slackened in answer to the reverse pull, and the stern of the steamer swung by into the gloom with a margin of scarce a dozen feet, leaving theGrampusbobbing in her troubled wake.
"All right now, Dick," called Matt in a voice that shook somewhat. "Drive her ahead."
"What was wrong?" inquired Dick.
"We just missed a collision with a steamer. Your quick work saved us."
Dick gave a long whistle, and went on with his work. "A miss is as good as a hundred fathoms, old ship," he answered lightly.
The ringing orders and quick work with the engine had aroused none of the sleepers. Carl could be heard babbling excitedly in the tank room, but otherwise the ship's complement was quiet.
It was with a distinct feeling of relief that Matt caught the first gleam of day as it was reflected by the periscope. As the morning advanced and brightened, he raised a black smudge, as of steamer smoke, on the port quarter. The smoke was bearing along in the direction the submarine was going, and Matt wondered if that was the steamer they had barely missed running into during the night.
Gaines relieved Dick, Clackett took Carl's place, and Speake came after Ah Sin and ordered him below to get breakfast. When the Chinaman was fairly at work, Speake returned to the engine room and took the wheel. Glennie showed himself when breakfast was ready, and he, Matt, Dick, Carl, and Speake ate their breakfast in the periscope room.
"We must be off British Guiana," remarked Glennie, stirring the condensed milk and sugar into his coffee. "Will you put in at Georgetown, Mr. King?"
"We won't have to do that, now that we've picked you up at Port-of-Spain," replied Matt. "We've got to make quick time to the Amazon."
"Iss dot shdeamer der vone ve come pooty near running indo lasdt night?" queried Carl, taking a look into the periscope.
"It's about an even guess whether it is or not."
Ah Sin, who happened to be in the room, took a look at the periscope for himself.
"Did we come near having a collision last night?" queried Glennie, looking up quickly.
Matt, who wished to be agreeable, narrated the incident.
"We made a lucky miss of it," remarked the ensign, when Matt had finished. "I've no desire to go to the bottom in a steel sarcophagus like theGrampus. Strange I slept through it all, but I was tired, and I suppose I slept rather sounder than usual. That chink," he added, putting down his cup, "is a poor coffee-maker. Or is it the coffee itself that tastes so rank?"
"It's poor stuff," spoke up Speake, "an' I was jest goin' to say something about the taste. The chink did better yesterday than he's doin' this mornin'."
"Id purns ven id goes town, like id vas a dorch-lightbrocession," observed Carl luminously. "I don'd like dot, but I vas hungry, so I trink him. Whoosh!"
"It's certainly hot and bitter," said Matt, and put down his cup after two or three swallows.
"That steamer is gettin' closer to us, Matt," announced Speake, fumbling with the wheel and looking at the periscope.
"Steady, there, Speake!" cautioned Matt.
"I don't know what's the matter with me," muttered Speake, "but my nerves are all in a quiver. She's small, that steamer; one funnel, black, with a red band. I don't jest recollect what line—that—is."
He drawled out the last words.
"Py shiminy grickets!" said Carl, "I feel sick py der shdomach, und eferyt'ing iss virling und virling."
"Dowse me," put in Dick, "I'm dizzy, too!"
"And I," murmured Glennie, setting aside his plate and empty cup. "I—I believe I'll lie down."
He got up from the stool on which he was sitting, and floundered to the top of the locker. Pushing a hand around to his hip pocket, he drew out a revolver that interfered with his comfort, dropped it on the floor, and fell back limply.
Dick tried to get to his feet, but his limbs gave out, and he fell sprawling upon Carl. At the same moment Carl straightened out with a gasp, and Speake let go of the wheel and pitched forward to his knees. There he swayed unsteadily for an instant, trying to speak, but the effort was beyond him, and he slowly crumpled downward.
A horrible sensation of helplessness was growing upon Matt, and with it there dawned on his mind a hazy suspicion of villainous work. He struggled upright and staggered to the wheel.
"Gaines!" he called huskily through the motor-room tube.
No answer was returned. Glennie floundered up on one knee.
"What—in the fiend's—name—is the matter?" he gasped chokingly.
"Clackett!" cried Matt through the tank-room tube.
Still there was no answer. At just that moment, when Matt was positively sure that all on the ship were caught in the awful spell, Ah Sin shambled through the door.
With all his failing strength Matt flung himself on the Chinaman. Before Ah Sin could dodge out of the way Matt's arms went round him and his slouch hat was jerked off.
With the hat came the long queue, leaving Ah Sin's closely cropped head in plain sight.
"T—Tolo!" gurgled Glennie, a wild, incredulous look crossing his face.
He made a superhuman effort to get off the locker, but the last particle of strength left him in a flash, and he rolled backward.
RUBBING ELBOWS WITH DEATH.
Matt had neither the time nor the strength to manifest any surprise over the startling revelation made by Glennie. Not only that, but his brain was in such a condition it was well-nigh incapable of surprise.
In that critical moment when he felt a terrifying helplessness surely but steadily creeping over him, he centred every effort on the attempt to make Ah Sin a prisoner.
Swiftly as a lightning flash the idea struck through Matt's brain that the Chinaman had all to do with the baffling situation aboard theGrampus. If Matt could drag him down and secure him he felt that, at a later moment, the treacherous Celestial might be dealt with as his evil deeds justified.
But the work the king of the motor boys had mapped out for himself exceeded his powers. There was none to come to his aid. Below, in the tank room and motor room, was a silence undisturbed by human voice or movement, and there, in the periscope chamber, the only noise to be heard was the deep breathing of Matt's unconscious friends and the rattling sounds of the scuffle going forward between the young motorist and Ah Sin.
The slouch hat and the false queue were kicked into one corner. Ah Sin's long, lean fingers were gripping Matt's throat. There was no look of hate, or anger, or even of determination in the Chinaman's face; the expression was blank and saturnine, as though he was merely a tool, operated by wires like a puppet and carrying out the will of some one in high authority.
Suddenly, putting forth all his strength, Ah Sin lifted Matt by the throat and threw him bodily across Speake and against the edge of the locker. Matt tried to rise, but found it impossible.
The awful weakness held him in thrall and was fastening gyves upon his wrists. Soon he would be utterly helpless, like those lying around him, and what would Ah Sin then do to theGrampus?
A spasm of alarm and apprehension rushed through the young motorist. Was this to be the end of the submarine's voyage? Was the sale of the boat to the government destined never to be consummated?
Vaguely Matt thought of Captain Nemo, Jr., lying sick in that house in Belize, of his unswerving confidence in the king of the motor boys, and of his tremendous disappointment if anything happened to the submarine during her daring cruise.
All this brought every ounce of Matt's failing strength back to him. He shoved his hand along the side of the locker and twined his fingers about the grip of the revolver dropped by Glennie, then, with a despairing effort, he lifted himself on one elbow and again directed his gaze at the Chinaman.
Ah Sin had not been idle. He was holding something in his hand—a round object from which hung a long, black string. The Chinaman was lighting a match and touching the flame to the end of the string.
Matt could not see very distinctly, for everything in the periscope chamber, even the chamber itself, was reeling about him in fantastic lines.
The glow at the end of the black string sputtered and hissed. Stepping over to one corner, Ah Sin placed the round object on the floor with exceeding care, pulling out the string so that it lay in a straight line, the burning end pointed toward the centre of the room.
For a moment Ah Sin knelt and stared. His face was still inscrutable, his eyes showing nothing more than a mild interest in his fiendish work.
A bomb!
The realization broke over Matt's benumbed brain like a thunder-clap.
Ah Sin was seeking to blow up the submarine, annihilating not only the boat, but those aboard as well.
On Matt alone depended the salvation of theGrampusand her crew. And he was almost helpless in the grip of the baneful spell that had fallen over every one on board, with the exception of the Chinaman!
Matt lifted the revolver unsteadily. A report rang out, sending wild echoes clattering through the steel hull.
The bullet missed the kneeling Chinaman, struck clanging against the curved iron plates, glanced against the bulkhead above the locker, and dropped flattened and harmless at the side of Glennie.
Owing to Matt's unsteady hand the Chinaman had escaped the bit of lead, but he was startled and frightened. Leaping up he whirled and peered at Matt. The latter still clutched the revolver, but his hand swayed back and forth as he leveled it.
Ah Sin made a quick jump toward Matt, evidently with the intention of disarming him; but there was something in the lad's wide, straining eyes that caused him to change his mind. Swerving aside he rushed at the ladder, mounted swiftly, and disappeared through the hatch.
With a fierce effort Matt concentrated his wandering wits upon the bomb. Someway, somehow, he must reach the infernal machine and extinguish the fuse.
Dropping the revolver, he rolled over and over, a lurch of the boat, running erratically with no guiding hand at either wheel or motor, helping him to reach the foot of the periscope table.
With the utmost difficulty he caught the legs of the rigidly secured table and pulled himself to his knees. The cup, from which he had taken only a few swallows of coffee, stood on the floor just below the end of the table, and not more than a foot from the burning fuse. By a miracle the cup had not been overturned.
For him to reach the fuse in his weakened condition was impossible; but, if he could regain his feet and kick the cup over the coffee that remained in it might quench the fire of the fuse.
Three times he endeavored to draw himself erect by means of the table, but succeeded only in dropping backward as though pushed by a heavy, resistless hand. But the fourth time he managed to remain upright, trembling with the strain he had put upon himself.
It seemed a trifling thing to overset the coffee-cup, but Motor Matt had never planned a harder task.
There are but few things in this life, however, that will not yield to pluck and determination, and fortune favored Matt in his grave fight.
TheGrampuspitched forward, rising aft and making a steep incline of the floor. Matt's feet slipped, and he lost his hold on the table. As he came heavily down he shot against a stool, which was overturned and upset the cup. The liquid in the cup had slopped over the sides, and with the overturning a miniature wave of brown rolled along the inclined floor.
There followed a hiss as it engulfed the tiny blaze at the end of the fuse, and then a little spiral of smoke eddied upward.
This much Matt saw, and a fierce exultation ran through him. The bomb was harmless—but where was Ah Sin? Would he not come back, discover what Matt had accomplished, and again set a match to the fuse?
This might happen, but there was nothing Motor Matt could do to prevent it.
He had taken only a few swallows of the coffee, and to this, and to his superior powers of endurance, was due the fact that he had kept his senses and a remnant of his strength long enough to accomplish what he had.
But now a wave of darkness rolled over him. As unconscious of what was taking place around him as he was helpless to prevent further disaster, his head fell back and he lay as one dead among his silent and motionless companions.
A DIVE FOR SAFETY.
As Matt was the last one to lose his senses, so he was the first to recover. And here again his superior endurance must have scored in his favor.
Always in the pink of physical condition, and striving constantly to keep himself so, his powers of recuperation were quick to react and reassert themselves.
He sat up, dazed and bewildered, and was some moments in picking up the chain of events where it had been dropped.
By degrees he lived over the events that immediately preceded his lapse into unconsciousness, and thoughts of the treacherous Ah Sin brought him staggering to his feet.
TheGrampuswas yawing and tumbling about in the waves, completely at the mercy of wind and currents. Seizing the wheel, Matt brought the submarine to her course and lashed the wheel with his twisted handkerchief.
Pausing by the foot of the ladder he looked up into the conning tower. The hatch was open.
What had become of the Chinaman he asked himself. Had he, confident that the boat would be blown up, gained the deck and thrown himself into the sea? Matt had heard of fanatics of that sort—carrying out orders given by a higher power and then immolating themselves on the altar of what they supposed to be their duty.
The Japs were noted for self-sacrifices of that kind, and Ah Sin was not a Chinaman, but a little yellow man from the land of the mikado.
How long Matt had remained unconscious he had no means of knowing.
Resolved to discover what had become of the supposed Chinaman at all hazards, Matt climbed laboriously up the ladder. The cool, salt air, pouring down the hatch, served still further to revive him and bring back his strength.
At last, when he braced himself in the opening and was able to cast a sweeping glance over the waves, the sight unrolled before him brought a startled exclamation to his lips.
A cable's length from the submarine was a dory manned by smartly uniformed yellow sailors. Hove to, half a dozen fathoms beyond the dory, was the steamer with the black funnel and the red band, her port rail lined with figures that were evidently watching theGrampus. Between the dory and the submarine was a swimming figure, which Matt had little difficulty in recognizing as being that of Tolo, otherwise Ah Sin.
Tolo was swimming and looking behind, and the eyes of those in the dory were on theGrampus, the men at the oars turning their heads to look over their shoulders.
It seemed plain that they were expecting an explosion, and that they were hurrying to get Tolo out of the way of it.
Matt's blood ran cold as he thought of the heinous plot that had so nearly been carried out by the disguised Japanese. Policy was back of the murderous plan, but was it a policy dictated by a powerful nation, or merely by a set of misguided men, acting on their own accord?
The young motorist had no time to debate this point. A shout of consternation greeted his appearance at the conning-tower hatch. The officer in the dory spoke to his men, and all turned their faces the other way and bent their backs to the oars.
It flashed over Matt, in a twinkling, that the crew from the steamer were still of the opinion that they could destroy the submarine, and that they were hastening to get aboard the craft in order to carry out their nefarious designs.
Without losing a moment, Matt drew back into the tower and closed and barred the hatch. Lurching down the ladder he called desperately to his companions. Speake and Dick were sitting up, staring blankly at each other. When Matt appeared they fixed their bewildered eyes on him.
"Wake up!" cried Matt, springing to Dick and shaking him vigorously. "Get your wits together, Dick, and be quick about it."
"Keelhaul me!" mumbled Dick. "There was dope in that coffee."
"That's right," seconded Speake, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
"Never mind that now," went on Matt hurriedly. "Enemies are upon us! That steamer you saw in the periscope, Speake, is hove to a little way from us, and our motor is slowed until we have scarcely steerage-way. A boat is coming toward theGrampus, and we shall be boarded before you can say Jack Robinson. We've got to make a dive for safety. Rouse yourselves, both of you! To the motor, Dick! Speake, attend to the tanks—fill them for a twenty-foot submersion. You——"
Something struck against the side of the submarine, and a jar followed as of some one springing to the deck.
"There they are!" shouted Matt. "Below with you—quick!"
Speake and Dick got unsteadily to their feet. Matt's ominous words alarmed them, and did more than anything else to clear the fog from their minds. Making their way stumblingly through the door they lowered themselves down the hatch.
Several more ringing thumps on the deck proved to Matt that others had come aboard. Presently there was a banging on the hatch cover.
"Open!" cried a muffled voice with a queer foreign intonation. "Open so that we can talk!"
"Who are you?" roared Matt, his voice sounding like thunder in the confined space.
"Young Samurai, patriots of Nippon, Sons of the Rising Sun, Independent Protectors of the Kingdom. Open!"
Matt forced his way up the ladder again. Slant eyes were pressed against the lunettes and met his.
Already, however, water was entering the ballast tanks and theGrampuswas beginning to settle.
"Our flag is the Stars and Stripes," yelled Matt, shaking his fist at the eyes on the other side of the thick glass, "and you dare not lay a hand on us! If your mikado knew what you were about——"
"Our mikado knows nothing," interrupted a voice. "We——"
The fact that the submarine was diving came suddenly home to those on the deck. Already the waves were creaming over the curved plates, drawn into a flurry by the suction as the boat went down.
The eyes disappeared from the lunettes, and the Japanese scrambled for their boat. Another moment and the conning tower was submerged and Matt could hear the waters gurgling over the hatch cover.
Sliding down to the periscope room he looked into the periscope. Some of the sailors were in the water, and others, in the boat, were desperately busy getting them aboard. For a moment only Matt was able to use the periscope, and then the waters closed about the ball, the valves protecting the ball from an inrush of water closed, and theGrampuswas more than fifteen feet down.
"Twenty feet, matey!" came the voice of Dick.
"That will do, Speake," called Matt.
The tanks were closed.
"Drive her ahead, Dick!" cried Matt.
The motor was speeded up and theGrampushustled onward below the surface. While Matt unlashed the wheel and brought the boat more directly into her course, a loud boom and a splash were heard.
"What's that?" demanded Speake.
"The steamer is firing at us," answered Matt.
"Let 'em shoot," laughed Dick. "A heap of good it will do them to drop shot into the sea."
"How's Gaines, Dick?"
"Coming along full and by, forty knots. He's sitting up and beginning to take notice."
"How about Clackett, Speake?"
"He jest asked me to tell him where he was," replied Speake, "so I guess he'll soon be able to take hold."
"Good! We're coming out of this a whole lot better than I had dared to hope."
"Dot's righdt," spoke up Carl, coming suddenly to a sitting posture.
"How do you feel, old chap?" asked Matt.
"I peen lying dere on my pack trying to guess id oudt," Carl answered.
"That's about the way I stack up, Mr. King," said Glennie, turning over on his side so he could face Matt. "Where are we?"
"We're twenty feet down and headed for the delta of the Amazon, Mr. Glennie."
"Didn't you lose consciousness, like the rest of us?"
"Yes; but I wasn't out of my head so long. I was the last to go and the first to come to."
"How do you account for that?"
Glennie sat up on the locker, as he put the question, and began rubbing his head.
"I didn't drink so much of that bitter coffee as the rest of you did," replied Matt.
"That's right," muttered Glennie; "I was forgetting about the coffee. It was drugged—it must have been."
"Yah, so helup me!" growled Carl. "Der shink vas oop to some funny pitzness, und he has peen efer since he come apoardt der poat. Shinks iss pad meticine, anyvays. Ve ought to haf droon him oferpoard on cheneral brinciples."
"Where's Ah Sin now?" queried Glennie, looking around the room expectantly.
"The last I saw of him," said Matt, "he was in the water swimming toward a small boat."
Glennie started to his feet, astounded.
"In the water?" he echoed. "Do you mean to say you allowed the scoundrel to get away, Mr. King? And all the time you knew just how much his presence meant to me!"
Matt gazed fixedly at the ensign.
"Your head must still be troubled with that dope the supposed Chinaman put in the coffee," said he calmly. "It was lucky that I was able to do what I did, and, as for the Chinaman getting away, I could no more help that than any of the rest of you. But it was a lucky thing for us that hedidget away, I can tell you that."
"Vat pitzness you got finding some fault mit Motor Matt?" snapped Carl, making a truculent move in Glennie's direction. "You vas a bassencher—don'd forged dot—und Matt vas der skipper. Ve ought to call him Gaptain, only he von't allow id; but, all der same, he iss der gaptain oof der poat, und you vill keep some shdillness mit yourseluf oder I vill pat you on der pack mit mein fist. Yah, so, Misder Glennie!"
"That will do, Carl," said Matt. "Draw back into your shell now, and keep some stillness yourself. I can handle my own end with Mr. Glennie."
Carl flung off to the other side of the room, tramping heavily to show his impatience and disgust.
"I presume," said the ensign reflectively, "that you did the best you could, Mr. King, so I have no fault to find with you. But you understand that Ah Sin was my only hope for locating those important papers in Para."
Matt stared, wondering if Glennie had forgotten the discovery he had made just before he had lapsed into unconsciousness.
"I had a mighty queer dream about that Chinaman," pursued Glennie. "I thought you had a fight with him, Matt, and that, during the scuffle, his old slouch hat came off, and the queue along with it. And I was under the impression that Ah Sin wasn't a Chinaman at all, but Tolo, that rascally Jap."
"That wasn't a dream, Mr. Glennie," answered Matt, "but is literally what took place."
"Is that a fact?" cried the ensign.
"Look ad here vonce!" called Carl.
He had picked up the slouch hat and the attached queue and placed them on his head.
"Great Moses!" muttered Glennie, reeling back against the wall. "How I've been fooled! And I never recognized the scoundrel in his chink make-up! Well, I guess I deserve all the bad luck that's coming my way. I've been a dunderhead ever since theSeminoledropped me in La Guayra."
"Whoosh!" exclaimed Carl, disgustedly, pulling off the hat and pigtail and throwing them into the locker. "I don'd like der shmell oof der t'ings," and he dropped the locker lid and turned away. "Vat's dis, hey?" he inquired, picking up the bomb.
PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.
"That," said Matt, "is a bomb. While I lay on the floor, all but helpless, the disguised Jap set fire to the fuse and planted the bomb in the corner."
Glennie stared aghast. Carl mumbled to himself, and very carefully returned the bomb to the place where he had found it.
"He vas a plackguard!" growled Carl, backing away from the bomb and shaking his fist at it. "Der sgoundrel vould haf plowed us py some smidereens. I don'd like Chaps any more as I do shinks."
"You must be mistaken!" gasped Glennie. "Either that, or else Tolo is a madman! Why, the explosion of that bomb would have wrecked the submarine and killed us all."
The ensign shuddered.
"It would have been barbarous!" he went on, worked up by the enormity of the crime that had been planned. "As an act of war, it would have been savage enough, in all conscience, but here we are at peace with all the world, and under the protection of Old Glory!"
"I can't help that, Glennie," said Matt grimly. "We've got to take the facts as we find them. I managed to get hands on the revolver you dropped, and had strength enough to fire one shot. The bullet missed its mark, and Tolo jumped up and started for me. But I guess the revolver scared him off, for he whirled around before he got very close and darted up the conning-tower ladder."
"He left the fuse burning?"
"Yes; and evidently expected a blow-up."
"Why wasn't there a blow-up?"
"Well, the coffee that had got me into trouble got us all out of it. I fell, knocked over a stool, the stool knocked over the cup, and the coffee was spilled out and flowed over the burning fuse."
"That's the most remarkable thing I ever heard!" declared Glennie.
"Modor Matt's luck," chuckled Carl. "I vould radder be mit Matt, und haf a biece oof his luck, dan any blace vat I know. Ven he has some goot fordunes, he has to pass dem aroundt to der fellers vat iss mit him—vich means me, for I vas alvays aroundt."
"Go on, Mr. King," said Glennie. "What happened after that?"
Matt, attending to his steering and keeping an eye on the periscope, told how he had lost consciousness for a few moments, had revived, lashed the wheel, and climbed to the hatch. The rest, including how he, Dick, and Speake had made a dive for safety, came rapidly and in the fewest possible words.
"From all of which it appears," remarked Glennie quietly, when the recital was done, "that we owe our lives to Motor Matt. But I can't understand this Tolo business. Why was he playing the part of a chink?"
"So you wouldn't know him," said Matt, "and so he could still be with you."
"But what was the use?"
"That seems plain," went on Matt, wondering a little at the ensign's failure to see the game that had been attempted. "As I figure it, Mr. Glennie, there is a Japanese secret society consisting of a number of misguided young men who call themselves Sons of the Rising Sun. Their government does not sanction their acts, and presumably knows nothing about them. These Independent Protectors of the Kingdom have heard of this wonderful submarine ship invented by Captain Nemo, Jr., and they are well fitted to understand its possibilities in time of war."
"Granting all that, just what has it to do with the actions of Tolo?"
"I'm coming to that. Tolo, I take it, is a member of the Young Samurai Society. No doubt the society has had spies in Central and South America. These spies reported that theGrampushad been sold to the United States Government, conditional upon her making a safe passage around the Horn and up the western coast to Mare Island. I don't suppose that the Sons of the Rising Sun were at all pleased with this information. They are enthusiasts, and probably don't care a rap for their own lives, or for the lives of any other people, so long as they can do a good stroke of work for Nippon."
"But Tolo," put in the ensign impatiently, "what of him?"
"Probably, too," continued Matt, "it was known that theSeminolehad dropped you at La Guayra, and that you were to accompany the submarine on her long cruise. Tolo was commissioned to watch you, get aboard the submarine if possible, make sketches, and then destroy her."
"But do you consider what a crime that amounts to? That it is virtually an act of war and might embroil two countries?"
"It is an act of piracy, Mr. Glennie. The steamer from which the Japs came was not flying the Japanese flag, nor any other flag, so far as I could see. They're working on their own hook."
"Then they are liable to be caught and punished by their own government!"
"Of course; but the Sons of the Rising Sun have the bit in their own teeth and are going their own pace. I'll bet something handsome they'd sacrifice their steamer and their own lives, into the bargain, if they could be sure of destroying theGrampus. The Japs are fanatics on the subject of patriotism—everybody knows that. But to go on with Tolo. He hired out to you, found a chance to steal your dispatches, and thought advisable to take them. Probably he thought they contained information of value to the Young Samurai. After that he disguised himself as a Chinaman—not a difficult task for a Jap—and called on us in the harbor at Port-of-Spain. He was cunning enough to hand you that yarn about knowing Tolo, and to hang out regarding the fifty dollars so that he could get you to take him down the coast to the Amazon. On the way, Tolo was snooping around and learning all he could about the boat. The blowing up of the gasolene tank was probably an accident, but mixing water with our fuel was done with a purpose."
"What purpose?"
"To delay us, and make it possible for the steamer to come near. This morning Tolo must have heard how we had narrowly escaped running the steamer down during the night, and I am sure he knew the steamer was hanging around our course just before he went down to get breakfast. He had come aboard theGrampusequipped with his bomb and his drugs, and it's a wonder his scoundrelly plans did not carry. Of course," Matt added, after a long silence, "I am only putting two and two together, and making a guess. The guess may be close to the truth, or wide of it, but that's the way I size up the facts that have come to us."
"You haf hit der nail righdt on der headt, py chiminy!" declared Carl. "Der Sons oof der Rising Sun vas afder us, aber dey vill findt dot ve don'd vas ashleep. Ve're a leedle punch oof badriots ourseluf, you bed you, und an American feller has got id ofer der Chap like anyding."
Carl puffed out his chest and slapped his wishbone.
"I am sure you have made a good guess, Mr. King," said Glennie, "and the way you have argued the thing out is mighty convincing. It shows us what we're up against during this cruise, and I'm wondering why the captain of theSeminoledidn't tip me off."
"It's likely he didn't know anything about these Sons of the Rising Sun," replied Matt. "We've only been able to get a line on them by facing considerable danger, and taking a lot of hard knocks."
"Ven dose leedle fellers whipped Rooshia," put in Carl, "dey got puffed oop like I can't tell. Dere iss some chips on deir shoulters all der time now, und they ought to be knocked off."
"Don't make a common mistake, Mr. Pretzel," cautioned Glennie. "The Japanese Government has always been a good friend of the United States, and——"
"Der handt vat dey holdt oudt to us iss der gladt handt," interrupted Carl, "und der odder vat dey haf pehind deir pack iss toupled oop und ready to shtrike! Yah, so helup me!"
"There are hotheads in Japan just as there are in our own country," proceeded Glennie; "but both governments are on friendly terms and will always be so. The mikado's government doesn't know what these Sons of the Rising Sun are doing, so what happens is just a little private war between them and us, with theGrampusas the bone of contention."
"Vell," and Carl wagged his head decidedly, "ve got our teet' on der pone und dey can't shake us loose."
"That's right," laughed Matt.
"Mr. Pretzel is a jingo," said Glennie. "But what am I to do about those dispatches?"
"We'll go right on to the Amazon and Para. When we get there, Mr. Glennie, I'd advise you to make a clean breast of everything to Mr. Brigham. Perhaps he can help you get hold of the papers in some way."
The ensign shook his head gloomily.
"I see what will happen to me," he muttered, "but I guess I can face the music, all right. I'm sorry for the governor, though, when the news gets to Boston."
At this moment Speake came in and began clearing up the scattered tin dishes that had been used in serving the morning meal. He reported Gaines and Clackett as feeling all right, and actively engaged in their duties.
Matt ordered the ballast tanks emptied so as to bring the submarine within a dozen feet of the surface. At this depth the periscope ball cleared the waves, the automatic valves opened, and those in the periscope room were able to take a look at the surface of the sea. The steamer was nowhere in sight—there was not even a smudge of smoke on the horizon.
TheGrampuswas lifted further until the conning tower was clear of the waves. Speake took the wheel, Matt studied the chart and gave him the course and then turned in for a little sleep. Dick and Carl likewise sought a little rest; and while the king of the motor boys and his chums slept, the submarine plowed onward toward Brazil at a swift pace.
UNDER THE AMAZON.
Three days and nights of uneventful traveling brought theGrampusto Santa Rosa Bay directly in the great mouth of the Amazon. Para River, to the south, is not generally considered as an arm of the river, although unquestionably it forms a part of the vast delta.
The mouth of the Amazon Matt knew to be two hundred miles wide, and full twenty-seven fathoms deep. It is full of islands, and a bar, running seaward from one of these islands, caused theGrampusan unforeseen delay.
Feeling positive that the mysterious steamer had reached the Amazon ahead of them, or that she was perhaps watching along the coast; most of the latter part of the submarine's journey toward the Para had been made under water. The boat was submerged when she reached the Amazon, and the run across Santa Rosa Bay was by periscope alone.
Matt saw the little rocky island, whitened with seabirds, and supposed he was giving it a wide berth. He did not suspect the presence of the bar, and the chart, most unaccountably, did not show it.
The first news of trouble was contained in an announcement by Gaines, from the motor room.
"Propeller's out of commission, Matt."
This was alarming information. With the propeller useless, the submarine would drift helplessly in the current unless stoutly anchored.
Quickly as possible the ballast tanks were emptied and the boat brought to the surface. Matt, turning the wheel over to Speake, rushed into the conning tower, threw open the hatch and made a survey of the situation.
There were no boats of any kind in the vicinity of theGrampus, and consequently no hope of being towed into safe quarters while repairs were being made. Matt, when he broke out of the hatch, was confidently expecting to find the submarine being whirled out to sea by the swift current, but, to his surprise, the boat was setting in toward a small cove of the island. He got out on the deck for the purpose of making further observations. Dick and Glennie followed him.
"What do you make out, matey?" queried Dick. "From the looks of things, we're floating upstream."
"We're in a back-set of the current," Matt answered, studying the river in the neighborhood of the island. "That uplift of rocks parts the stream, sends the current around the upper part at sharp angles, and below, where we are, the current sucks back inshore."
"A dangerous coast to run into," remarked Glennie.
"That cove looks like a quiet place for shipping a new propeller," said Matt.
"You ought to have a dry-dock for that, hadn't you?"
"That would be fine—but we haven't got it. The next best thing is to shift all the weight forward and throw the propeller out of water. We can do that if our forward anchor can find holding ground on the bottom of the cove."
Matt stepped back to the conning tower.
"Speake!" he called.
"Aye, aye!" came back from Speake.
"Send Clackett to the torpedo room, and tell him to let go the forward anchor as soon as I give the word. Carl might go down and help. When I give the word, I want the anchor droppedat once!"
Speake could be heard talking through the tank-room tube. Matt, standing by the tower, watched sharply while the submarine drifted closer and closer to the rocks. The cove did not measure more than fifty feet across at its mouth, and was semi-circular in shape, and not more than fifty feet wide, measuring from a line drawn between the rocky headlands at the entrance. The shore was buttressed by high bowlders.
The current was bearing the submarine into the cove midway between the headlands—the line of drift being straight toward the farthest point inland.
Dick had a hand lead, and forward at the bow he heaved it constantly.
"Mark three!" he cried.
"Eighteen feet," said Glennie. "How much do you draw, Mr. King?"
"We ought to have ten feet," answered Matt. "Sharp with it, Dick," he added anxiously. "We must get as close inshore as we can."
"Quarter less three!" called Dick.
"Sixteen and a half," muttered Glennie; "shoaling rapidly. You'd better get that mud-hook down, Mr. King."
"Two and a half!" announced Dick, then: "Two and a quarter!" and finally: "Mark twain!"
Matt was not as close to the shore as he wanted to be, but twelve feet was as little water as he dared keep under theGrampus.
"Let go the anchor!" he yelled to Speake.
Speake promptly repeated the order, and only a very short scope of cable was run out.
The nose of the submarine was brought up short and the stern moved around into the cove as though on a pivot.
"The anchor's not fast!" cried Glennie. "It's dragging!"
Matt had already discovered that. The anchor affordedsufficient resistance to keep the bow of the boat toward the entrance of the cove, but they were sliding stern-first farther into the shoaling waters.
Dick hurried aft and began heaving the lead close to the stern.
"Two and a half!" he cried.
"Great guns!" exclaimed Glennie. "Wouldn't that knock you? It's deepening!"
"Mark three!" shouted Dick.
"Three fathoms," murmured Glennie, "and within two jumps of shore! The rocks must lie steep-to. The current's responsible for that."
The pull of the anchor continued to draw the boat around so that she was drifting broadside on.
"Deep four!" reported Dick, and began coiling up the line. The submarine was rubbing against the rocks, and there was no room to cast.
"Good luck," said Matt gleefully, "even if it does come out of a damaged propeller. We can pass a couple of cables ashore and tie up to the rocks. On deck, Speake!" he called through the hatch. "There's some old hose and canvas in the storeroom, and you, and Clackett, and Gaines had better bring it up. Fetch a couple of cables at the same time."
Matt leaped to a shelf notched out of one of the rocks, climbed to the top of the bowlder, and picked out the stones most convenient for mooring. When the cables were brought up and bent to their stanchions, the spare ends were passed ashore. While he was making them fast, Clackett, Gaines, Speake, and Carl were festooning the old hose over the submarine's side and padding the plates with canvas blankets as fenders against the jagged rocks.
"Now," called Matt, talking from the top of a bowlder and looking down on the deck of theGrampus, "the next thing is to weight the forward part of the boat so that the propeller will be thrown up clear of the water. Move everything possible from aft. If the anchor has taken hold, a little pulling on the chain may help. If this don't fill the bill, then we'll pile rocks on the bow and force it under that way. Now, then, get busy, all hands."
Speake, Carl, Gaines, and Clackett went below. Matt began tossing loose stones to Dick, and he built them up forward of the flagstaff, passing ropes around the pile in order to hold it to the deck when the boat began to cant forward.
By degrees the bow went deeper and deeper, and the stern rose. At last, after some two hours of trying work, the propeller was brought into view. The blades were fairly buried in a mass of ropy seaweed.
Matt gave vent to a relieved laugh.
"It won't be necessary to ship a new propeller, after all," said he. "Traveling under the Amazon is hard on the screw. That bar was covered with seaweed, and the propeller twisted itself up in it. Pass a rope aft and secure it to the periscope guys. You can hang to the rope, Dick, slip over the stern, and cut away the grass."
"Easy enough," answered Dick, dropping on the deck to pull off his shoes and stockings, and roll up his trousers. "We'll clear away that propeller in a brace of shakes."
"While you're at it," said Matt, "I'll mosey off around the island and see what it looks like. I'll not be gone long."
He dropped from the top of the bowlder, and vanished. Glennie looked after him as though he would have liked an invitation to accompany him, and stretch his legs on hard earth, but he did not follow. Instead, he picked up a coil of rope, and began securing an end to one of the wire periscope guys.
"I'll attend to that, Mr. Glennie," said Dick, still with an undue emphasis on the "mister." "You're an innocent bystander, you know, and are here to look on."
Glennie dropped the rope, flushed, and drew back. Matt had not asked him to go on the exploring expedition, and now Dick refused to have him render even trifling aid.
"I'm sorry you fellows have taken such a dead set at me," said Glennie.
"You told us where we stood when you first came off to us from the Port-of-Spain landing," returned Dick. "I don't see that you've got any kick coming because we took you at your word."
Glennie started to say something, but closed his mouth suddenly, and left the words unspoken. Perhaps he was beginning to see where he was at fault.
While he stood by the conning tower, watching Dick move aft with the rope in his hands, a sharp cry came suddenly from among the rocks.
"Dick! Clear the propeller, and sink the boat in——"
It was Matt's voice; although faint, it was unmistakable, and each word was strangely clear-cut and distinct.
Dick halted and faced about.
"Something's happening to Matt!" he cried.
The next moment he dropped the rope and started to spring ashore. But Glennie was already on the rocks.
"You heard what he said!" shouted Glennie. "Clear the propeller and sink the boat! I'll help King if he needs help—but your duty is clear."
The ensign whirled about and jumped from the bowlder. As he disappeared, Dick saw his revolver glistening in his hand.
HAND-TO-HAND.
From what Matt could see of the island as theGrampusdrifted into the cove, and from the further observations which he made while standing on the rocks andhelping Dick, he knew that it could not be very extensive. Probably it would have covered an acre of ground, if measured in a square, but its surface was vastly greater than that, inasmuch as it consisted of barren hills and valleys.
Matt's intention, when he left the submarine, was to climb to the highest point and take a look around. He was still worrying about the mysterious steamer, and the no less mysterious Japs. From what he had heard and read of the Japanese, he understood that dogged persistency was a national trait. If the Sons of the Rising Sun had made up their minds to destroy the submarine, it would take more than one rebuff to discourage them. That they were still on the trail of theGrampusMatt had not the least doubt, and if they should happen to sight the boat in the cove, and make an attack while the propeller was being cleared, they would stand a fair show of success.
In looking for the steamer Matt did not intend to confine his gaze to seaward, but to give fully as much attention upstream as below.
He had already selected the hill he was going to climb, and picked out the narrow valley that would lead him to its base.
A little scrambling over rough ground brought him to the valley. Projecting rocks, weather-stained and wind-worn, rose to right and left. Flocks of gulls arose out of them, alarmed by his approach, and winged away across the river.
The valley was not over twenty feet wide, and angled back and forth sharply on its way to the hill. Matt stepped off at a brisk gait, for he would have to be quick if he finished what he had in mind by the time Dick and the rest had cleared the propeller and got the boat once more in trim.
Matt was not expecting any trouble on the island, and, as usual, it was the unexpected that happened.
The flapping of the birds' wings made a noise that drowned the crunch of his footsteps in the gravel. This, it may be, accounted for the surprise that met him as he rounded a sharp turn, for his approach was not heard, and he came suddenly face to face with a creeping savage. The native was nude, save for a short kirtle that hung from his waist, and he was carrying an ugly-looking spear.
It seemed clear that the fellow was creeping up on the boat. His surprise was as great as Matt's, and for a brief space both stood staring at each other. Then, as Matt's gaze wandered farther on along the valley, he saw four other natives, all of whom had been on their hands and knees and had leaped erect the moment the young motorist presented himself.
Then it was that Matt lifted his voice and shouted the warning heard by Dick and Glennie. Matt did not finish what he was saying, for a suggestive movement of the native's spear hand made it necessary for him to take quick action to protect himself.
Like lightning the king of the motor boys leaped forward, and his fist shot out straight from the shoulder. A grunt was jolted from the lips of the stricken native, and he staggered backward. This caused the hand holding the spear to rise quickly, and the spear point caught in Matt's leather jacket, which was unbuttoned and flying open.
The native fell backward, keeping a convulsive grip on the spear, and dragging Matt down with him. In a twinkling the other four savages had surrounded Matt and were menacing him with their spears.
The spear points were of steel, ground to a sharp point. They had a greenish, corroded look, which suggested that they had been poisoned. Judging this to be the case, Matt put forth every effort to avoid being pricked or scratched by the flourished weapons.
Seizing the handle of the spear held by the man who had fallen, Matt wrenched it away and swept it around his head in a circle. The other four savages leaped back to the edge of the circle and continued their hostile demonstrations. The fellow on the ground, who evidently possessed a large amount of courage, reached up abruptly and caught hold of the spear.
With exultant shouts, the other four began to close in. Hampered in using the spear, Matt found it necessary to change his tactics. Releasing the weapon, he laid hold of the native to whom it belonged, grabbed him about the waist, and flung him heavily against the foremost of his companions.
The men were all of short stature, although heavily muscled and of great strength. The human missile launched by Matt overset the first of the four advancing Indians, and this man, in his turn, tumbled backward and knocked down another. The remaining two were between Matt and the end of the valley it would be necessary for him to traverse in order to regain the boat.
Flourishing his fists and shouting an angry command for them to clear his path, he leaped directly at them. One of them launched his spear. Matt ducked downward, and the weapon whipped over his head, just grazing his cap.
This unarmed native was the one Matt speedily made up his mind to pass. But again the unexpected happened. As Matt dashed forward a stone gave way under his foot. He sought vainly to recover his balance, and plunged headlong and rolled over and over.
Before he could get up all the natives were upon him. It looked, just at that moment, as though nothing could save him. Yet he did not give up. Rising to his knees, he caught the ankles of one of his foes and jerked his feet out from under him.
A fierce order in an unknown tongue was given, and four figures sprang with murderous celerity to obey it. At that juncture—a critical juncture for Motor Matt—the sharp, incisive note of a revolver rang out. One of the savages, with a cry of pain, stepped backward, dropped his spear, and clasped his right wrist with his left hand.
There followed another shot, accompanied by a sound of running feet in the shingle and the loud voice of Glennie:
"Get away from there, you scoundrels! I'll give you a taste of more metal if you don't clear out."
The second bullet had done no harm, but the natives, not knowing how many men were following Glennie, whirled and made off, one of them picking up the fallen spear as he went.
"Are you hurt, King?" panted Glennie, coming to a breathless halt beside Matt.
"Not at all, Glennie," Matt answered; "but I had a tight squeak of it."
"Shall we chase those rascals?"
"No," was the answer as Matt regained his feet; "we'll make tracks back to theGrampus, and thank our lucky stars that we got out of this as well as we did. There may be a lot more of the Indians hiding among the rocks, and I've a notion that their spear points are poisoned. We'll not give them a chance to dig their spears into us, if we can help it."
Watching behind cautiously, Matt and Glennie immediately set out on their return to the boat.
"I didn't think there was a human being anywhere near the island, apart from ourselves," said Matt. "When those rascals came face to face with me the surprise was mutual—and far from pleasant, so far as I was concerned. Did you hear me yell?"
"That's what brought me ashore," said Glennie. "Ferral was bound to come; but I told him he had better carry out orders regarding the ship and let me go. This six-shooter carried the day."
"And saved my life," added Matt. "I'll not forget that, Mr. Glennie."
A flush of pleasure ran through Glennie's face.
"Bosh!" he exclaimed. "You'd have done the same for me, if our positions had been reversed."
By that time they were at the place where it was necessary for them to leave the valley and pick their way through the scattered bowlders to the shore of the cove. While they were climbing the rocks, Carl suddenly thrust his head out from behind one of them.
"Hoop-a-la!" he cried joyfully. "Id vas Matt, himseluf! My olt bard, Modor Matt, alife und kicking like alvays! Matt, der sighdt oof you makes me so habby as I can'd dell!"
"Same here, old ship!" chimed in the voice of Dick, as he showed himself beside Carl.
Dick was armed with an old harpoon, and Carl carried a hatchet.
"You're a nice pair, I must say!" cried Matt. "The last order I gave instructed you to clear the propeller and sink theGrampus."
"The propeller is cleared, matey," said Dick; "but you wouldn't catch Carl and me going to the bottom of the cove in theGrampusuntil we had found out what became of you. We heard a couple of shots, and nothing could keep us from coming ashore, after that. Who did you mix up with?"
"Five savages. I don't know whether they live on the island, or whether they came from the river bank. Anyhow, I came front to front with them, and they were creeping in the direction of the boat."
"Den dey knowed der poat vas in der cove!" said Carl, casting a cautious look behind, in the direction of the valley. "Vas dere more as fife, Matt?"
"I don't know. Five are all I saw. We'd better get away from here as soon as we can, though, and get up the river to Para."
A moment later the boys reached the shore of the cove and found Speake unloosening the cables.
"All right, Matt?" called Speake.
"Yes; but in a tearing hurry," Matt answered. "Is theGrampusready for sea?"
"She's as fit as a fiddle! Clackett is putting the stuff below back where it belongs, and we just dumped that load o' rock off the bow."
Matt, Dick, Carl, and Glennie dropped on the submarine's deck. In short order the cables were hauled aboard, coiled, and stowed, and Speake leaped from the rocks and was caught and steadied by Matt as he came down.
Matt got into the tower and signaled the engine room. The motor got busy, and the cheerful splash of the propeller was heard. Slowly theGrampuspicked her way out of the cove, those on her deck watching the receding rocks for some sign of the savages. But they saw none.