CHAPTER XXIBack to Brighton
SEVERAL days had elapsed since the capture of the mysterious pirate ship and her motley crew. TheJules Vernehad remained on the job at Martha's Vineyard while her divers carefully combed the interior of the old sunken British linerDominionto find whether any of the gold bullion still remained in her hold. Relentless search, however, had disclosed no more of the precious booty—all of it had been ferreted out by the arch-conspirator, Carl Weddigen, diver extraordinary, adventurer, spy and piratical chief. But all of it in turn had been reclaimed from the interior of theMonterey, the fast auxiliary that Weddigen had commanded.
The fight on theMontereyhad been short and sweet. Taken unexpectedly by the surprise attack of Captain Fowler and his men from the U. S. revenue cutterMarblehead, the men of theMonterey, deprived of the leadership of Weddigen, who was a captive on theJules Verne, had given up at the first show of strength on the part of the government forces. Two huge motor launches, armed with two-pounders and machine guns, had come swooping down upon theMonterey. Although the crew of theMontereywere well armed with modern rifles and ammunition, they had hastily thrown down their arms at the first withering fire from the launches of theMarblehead. This fire had swept the decks of the pirate craft, killing two of her crew and wounding others.
Immediately theMontereyhad been searched. Just as Jay Thacker, diver aboard theJules Verne, had related to Captain Austin and to Captain Fowler, of theMarblehead, the gold bars—a dozen and more crates of them—had been found aboard the pirate craft. Thousands of dollars' worth of precious metal that would have been spirited off by Weddigen and his crew unless the resourceful salvagers from Bridgeford had intervened.
"Lucky thing you called us in time," Captain Fowler declared.
"Yes, and a lucky thing you were near," said Captain Austin. Which was true, indeed, considering that theJules Verneand her crew could hardly have hoped to prevent the escape of the pirates.
And then came the unfolding of the story of Carl Weddigen. Yes, it was Carl himself; the same ingenious plotter who had first entered the service of the Bridgeford Salvage Company with the idea of gaining information as to where treasure ships were submerged; the same intriguer who had hoped to profit through his own thefts while ostensibly working for Superintendent Brown and Captain Austin; the same despicable traitor who had been thwarted in the act of stealing valued U. S. Government plans taken from the lost U-boat at Cape May.
Carefully and noting every particular, Captain Fowler, who was in fact a policeman of the high seas, had heard from Captain Austin, and from his star divers, Jay Thacker and Dick Monaghan, the whole story of Carl Weddigen. The Brighton boys started with their first encounter with Carl in the plant of the Bridgeford Company. They told of the first experience on theDominionwhen Carl had been discovered in the act of secreting diamonds in his diving suit, and how he was compelled to disgorge through the craftiness of Larry Seymour. The affair off Cape May was related, and this was the most damaging evidence, for it provedthe fellow an enemy of the United States Government.
"It surely will go hard with this chap after we turn him over to the Department of Justice at Washington," Captain Fowler had ventured in an opinion on the future status of the prisoner. For Carl was now a prisoner aboard theMarblehead, closely confined under constant guard in such a way that he could not possibly escape.
At first Weddigen had been sullen and close-mouthed. Repeated efforts to get him to tell his story had failed; how he had fitted out his pirate craft, where he had got the speedy little vessel, and how he had shipped his crew; and, finally, how he had cleaned out theDominion. But now that he had come to realize that he was literally "up against it" and that he was to be delivered over to the United States Government to face a court trial and possible death for espionage and high crimes against the government, to say nothing of his plots against the lives of the men of theJules Verne, the German prisoner had decided to tell his own story in the hope that it might in some way mitigate the whole case against him.
And this was the story he had told: Followinghis escape from the Navy Yard at Boston after the Cape May affair he had shipped aboard a coastwise trader bound that same day for Rio Janeiro. Going down the coast he had ingratiated himself in the favor of members of the crew by rescuing one of their number who had gone overboard in a terrific midsummer storm. The crew, most of them Latin-Americans, had acclaimed Weddigen their hero, and he at once assumed leadership among them. One night he had confided to some of them the story of theDominionand the gold bullion that still remained to be taken from her hold. In awe and in envy they had listened to the story. Their own greed aroused, they had proved willing converts to a plan to fit out an expedition and go after the treasure.
On the day that the Brazilian merchantman had touched at Vera Cruz for fresh supplies the little band under Weddigen deserted their ship and took refuge in the Mexican city. From there they had worked their way into the Tampico oil field region and one night stole the handsome new twin-screw auxiliaryMonterey, the property of a wealthy American oil magnate. Joined by other confederates whom they had recruitedamong Mexican refugees and bandits, the little party of adventurers had worked their way out of the Tampico River into the Gulf of Mexico, and thence up the Atlantic coast to the little cove where theDominionhad run aground, and where Weddigen had seen enough while employed by the Bridgeford Salvage Company to satisfy him that the desperate effort in quest of the hidden treasure would be well worth the effort, provided he was successful. From a point near the scene of operations the crafty skipper of theMontereyhad sent several of his crew ashore in a powerful launch to bargain in a New England seafaring town for a diver's modern outfit.
Uninterrupted in their quiet retreat, the German and his Latin-American crew had worked steadily in the reclamation of the gold bullion in the hulk of theDominion. Weddigen had found among his crew one who had had experience as a diver in the West Indies, and they had worked in relays. Just when they had completed their enormous haul, on the very evening that theJules Vernehad arrived, the pirates had completed rifling the treasure ship. They had expected to sail the following morning early for a South American port, there to make away withtheir loot and dispose of their stolen ship. Weddigen had seen theJules Vernefrom his vantage point within the cove long before Captain Austin and his men knew of the presence of another craft at the old anchorage. But he had decided to wait until after midnight and make a run for it in the darkness. He had refused to answer the challenge of Captain Austin, although he recognized the voice of that official, hoping against hope he might get away unrecognized.
Finally, when pressed for an explanation as to why he had foolishly gone aboard theJules Vernein the early morning hours and thus risked his chances of getting away at all by putting himself in the way of capture, Weddigen brazenly admitted he carried a powerful bomb with which he hoped to sink the salvage ship and her crew before they could sound an alarm. But in this he had been thwarted just as he was ready to set the bomb and leave theJules Verne. Loudly the pirate chief had cursed the war dog Fismes and the two Brighton youths who, he said, had been his nemeses from the very first day he had met them.
"Luckily for the United States Government and all parties concerned with the ownershipof this gold bullion, there are such brave youths as Mr. Thacker and Mr. Monaghan," the revenue cutter captain told him.
Thus had been accomplished the undoing of Carl Weddigen. Now he was headed for prison and a trial where he would have to answer for all his crimes. The gold bullion from theDominionhad been transferred from theMontereyto theJules Verne. Taking theMontereyin tow, theMarbleheadleft on the afternoon of the second day for Boston, while theJules Verneput back to Bridgeford.
On the deck of the latter, as theMarbleheaddrew away from the cove in Martha's Vineyard, stood two stalwart youths who had played a stirring part in the drama that had been staged. By their side sat a lean hound with silken ears well set up and a silver-plated collar that reflected the afternoon sun with brilliant shafts of light.
"Well, how do you like Treasure Cove, old pal?" asked Dick of his chum. Treasure Cove was the name they had dubbed the inlet and bar where theDominionhad gone ashore during war days.
"Fine, indeed," laughed Jay. "Even though I nearly lost my life here earlier in the summer."
"And even though we both have been having a nice little party with lots of gun play these last few days," facetiously added Dick.
"One thing about it—Weddigen saved us all the work of digging up this gold out of theDominion," said Dick, with a whimsical smile.
"And came near blowing us all to kingdom come—would have done it sure as guns but for Fismes here, who saved the day." Jay took the nose of the big pet in his hands and rubbed the dog's forehead while the animal grunted in appreciation.
They discussed Weddigen again and agreed he was just about the toughest customer they had ever encountered. It was a satisfaction to them to know that he had been apprehended, and that they had played a signal part in bringing him to bay.
After a time Jay said:
"Well, it's been a pretty nice summer after all, hasn't it?"
Dick shook his head in emphatic approval. He wouldn't have missed it for all the world, he added.
"And likely to prove a very profitable summer." This came from another voice near at hand.
The Brighton boys turned to greet their captain.
"Likely to net you chaps a handsome profit, indeed, after all this Treasure Cove fight heaped up on top of your various other exploits. I'll wager you it's a young fortune you draw down at Bridgeford before you go back to school."
"Perhaps more than we deserve," offered Jay.
"More than you deserve?" Captain Austin's voice rose to a high pitch. "You chaps surely merit every single dollar that will be paid to you. And it will be a good roll, my boys. Just think of it. First of all, you have the thousand dollars each that were voted you by President Walter, of the Salvage Company. Now you get a bonus on all the treasure that we have reclaimed in addition to the wage scale agreed upon in your contract. On top of this is still another item."
Both boys looked up.
"Don't forget that the United States Government offered a prize for the capture of Carl Weddigen."
"But we didn't capture Weddigen—it was Fismes," protested Jay in happy vein.
"All right then, have it your own way;Fismes gets the prize money from Uncle Sam," laughed Captain Austin.
Arm in arm, the trio retreated from the deck of theJules Vernein quest of one good square meal and a full night's sleep after nearly a week of the merriest kind of adventure—actors in a great game of treasure hunting. Out on deck a brown-haired police dog stretched himself luxuriously and nestled his jaw into the embrace of two paws crossed scissor-like.
In September, on a morning that dawned in full autumnal splendor, two young men stood on the station platform at Bridgeford awaiting a train bound for New York. With them were many friends, young and old, including officials and employes from the big shipbuilding yard. They had come to wish a farewell to these two youths bound for Winchester and the opening of the new school year at Brighton Academy.
In the pocket of each youth reposed a bank book showing healthy deposits to their credit. More than six thousand dollars each in the name of Jay Thacker and Richard Monaghan—this from the Bridgeford Salvage Company for the splendid work the young divers haddone throughout the summer! Enough to carry each young man through preparatory school and on into college!
"But those friendships are not counted in terms of dollars and cents, are they, chum?" said Dick Monaghan, with just a trace of a lump in his throat as he indicated the group of friends on the station platform. The train was moving out. Larry Seymour—good old Larry—had staged the farewell.
It might have been a cinder in Jay's eye; at any rate, he was blinking hard as the train gathered speed.
"You said a whole heaping mouthful that time," replied Jay, trying to laugh off the flood of emotion that welled up in him.
Up in the baggage coach ahead, a skinny brown hound, accustomed to making the best of every situation, winked at the baggage agent and curled himself up for a snooze and a dream of the new life to come at Brighton Academy.
THE END