CHAPTER VGIVING THE ENEMY THE SLIP
“Please don’t scold, Oscar,” Ballyhoo was saying soon afterwards. “I understand I was a silly fool to take such big chances. The captain knew what he was talking about when he told me to stay near the boat.”
“We all know now,” Jack remarked, “that the thrilling yarns told you by your Uncle Abner Crawley were founded on truth. He’d seen those East Indian pearl-divers stick sharks many a time; yes, and he even said he’d learned to do the same himself while out around Ceylon.”
“I think we’ll be moving along pretty soon,” Oscar remarked, not wishing to add to the repentant Ballyhoo’s confusion, “for I heard the engineer tell Captain Shooks that he had things shipshape once more.”
“Then we can expect to be at our first destination any old time,” Jack went on to say, with an eager gleam in his eye; for he was yearning to see some of the wonderful submarine sights that had been so vividly described to them by the old deep sea master-diver.
Within ten minutes they discovered that the engines had started working again, and a little while later their propeller began to churn the water at the stern.
It was now late in the afternoon. They had really spent several hours behind the island instead of the short space of time at first intended; but then no one felt that it mattered to any great extent, since they were in no particular hurry.
“Let me have that glass, please, Oscar?” Ballyhoo asked. “There’s a vessel off to the southwest, low down, and I’ve got a sneaking notion she looks a whole lot like that sameDauntlesswe gave the slip to.”
This, of course, aroused considerable interest on the part of the other boys. Oscar obediently handed the marine glasses over, for they had been lying close beside him on the little upper deck, which Ballyhoo persisted in describing as the “hurricane deck” of the undersea boat. Jack, on his part, ceased handling his camera, and also turned his eyes in the direction indicated.
Hardly had Ballyhoo located the object he had been watching than he gave a satisfied grunt.
“That means you were right, I take it?” remarked Oscar.
“Just what it does,” came the ready answer. “She’s beat us down here, and seems to know just about where we ought to turn up, hang the luck!”
“Oh! nothing much to worry about yet,” Oscar told him. “Whenever we feel like giving her theonce over, all we have to do is to turn the nose of our craft down, kick our heels in the air, and disappear, to come up fifty miles away in any old direction.”
“Guess you’re right there, Oscar,” admitted the boy who still held the glasses glued to his eyes, as though fairly fascinated by the abrupt reappearance of the mysterious black craft, which, as they knew, must be manned by the rival party under the lead of that reckless buccaneer of fortune, Captain Badger.
“That’s the beauty of these submarine wrecking craft,” laughed Jack; “they can swim on the surface in fair weather, dive below in foul, remain hidden about as long as they please, and all the while be making their little eight or ten knots an hour in any old direction. Yes, they are as hard to locate as a jumping flea—now you’ve got him, but when you go to look he isn’t there.”
Captain Shooks had been summoned on deck, and agreed with the boys the boat was their persistent rival that continued to shadow them. As evening was coming on he laid his plan of campaign accordingly. They started off on a course at right angles with the one they had intended to take. This would, of course, deceive the enemy, doubtless keeping a watch over their movements all the while.
“When it gets good and dark,” explained Oscar to his comrades, “why, we mean to dip under, turn around, and head into the southwest again. Once we get twenty miles away from this point,and it will be safe for us to come to the surface again, because our lights won’t show. By that time they’ll be in a haze, and dodging every-which-way, looking for a speck on the water.”
So the sun set, and, as always happens down toward the tropics, there was a very short intermission between that event and the coming of darkness. Twilight belongs to the Northern zones.
When the call to supper came it was already growing dusk.
“We’ll not be up again to-night, I reckon,” assumed Ballyhoo, with a sigh, for to tell the truth he did not particularly relish being made a prisoner inside that strange boat, and kept hermetically sealed far below the surface of the ocean, “just as much shut-in,” he often said, “as sardines in a can, or one of those old mummies we’ve seen in museums when they were kept tight in their sarcophagi.”
It turned out just as he prophesied. Even while they were eating they knew from various signs that the boat was sinking. The intake of water filling the tanks could be plainly heard; and then besides the engines had ceased working. While it was always possible for the submarine to dive when in motion, still as a rule the skipper preferred to take his dip while stationary.
Once below and they were able to steer any course they pleased, by the aid of their compass, which worked just as well then as when the boat rode on the surface.
By now the boys were beginning to grow a little accustomed to some of the experiences that had seemed so marvelous to them at first.
Taking it all in all it was very comfortable there in that snug little saloon, where the captain and the three boys ate their meals. Considerable ducking had to be indulged in so as to avoid knocking their heads, which Ballyhoo seemed to be particularly addicted to, much to his discomfort.
“Why, I’ll have a whole row of knobs around my coco before we’re through with this trip,” he complained after he had again arisen too suddenly, and, consequently, banged the top of his head against the low ceiling of the saloon.
“I notice that already you’re beginning to have a lot of trouble pulling your cap on,” Jack told him; “and if you take my advice you’ll think twice before you jump up so hastily. It’s going to be a good thing to tone you down, Ballyhoo. Beware of getting a swelled head.”
They spent the evening as best the conditions allowed. Space was at such a high premium down inside the little submarine craft that there could be no moving around except in exceptional cases. On this account they had to sit close together and amuse themselves by exchanging views on various subjects, writing up their logs, and, of course, thinking of those left at home.
Then came the time for sleep. Ballyhoo had quite exhausted himself through his fierce exertions in the water, coupled with the mentalanguish he must certainly have endured. Consequently, he was dozing long before either of the others thought to retire.
At the time Oscar crawled into his tight-fitting bunk it was four bells, or ten o’clock. He lay there for some time planning, and also allowing his mind to travel back to former scenes, most of them pleasant in their nature.
The engines were working steadily, and he could hear the singular “swish” of the water just beyond the steel shell of the boat alongside his head. How strange it was to realize that he meant to calmly seek forgetfulness in slumber while they were many fathoms under the sea, and traveling along at an eight-knot speed; just as though that had always been the customary method of procedure, instead of a very recent innovation and novelty.
Then finally he lost himself, and during the balance of the night really awoke only three times.
It was on one of these occasions that Oscar knew from a change in the sounds coming to his ears that they were ascending to the surface again. He could hear the throb of the electric motors pumping the water ballast from the reservoirs, which could be emptied in a marvelously short time should necessity compel such haste.
He lay there listening until assured that once again they were afloat on the bosom of the deep, and continuing their voyage. Somehow the full significance of this gave him a sense of relief; it was certainly more natural that they should becruising on rather than under the water. And soon fresh air would be circulating through the interior of the boat, when the ventilation shafts were opened.
Then came morning, and the boys upon awakening made all haste possible to get on deck, where they found Captain Shooks, partly dressed, with a glorious red flannel nightcap still covering his bald head, as he took a look around through his glasses.
The boys, too, made use of their opportunity, and scoured the horizon diligently. So far as they could see there was no sign of the suspicious black steam yacht; and it seemed as if they had successfully eluded Badger and his crew.
Over on the port side lay one of those small keys found in many parts of the great Caribbean Sea, with the stately palms hanging over the green water, and the mangroves making another part of the shore look as though it might prove a hard task to break through the thick barrier.
A native was seated in his canoe fishing, and now surveying the singular looking, squatty craft with evident amazement. Even as they looked he started frantically for the shore, as though his fears had finally gotten the best of him. If the mere sight of a submarine gave him such a fright the boys wondered what his sensations would have been had he chanced to see theArgonautsuddenly emerge frombeneaththe water like a monster fish, her rounded steel sides glistening in the sunlight.
“Looks like we had given them the slip all right,eh, boys?” remarked the skipper, as he lowered his glass, and allowed a broad smile to cross his sunburned face; for already he had come to feel a very friendly relationship toward the trio of fine young fellows, so modest and yet so able.
“We must be in a far corner of the Caribbean by now, I should think, Captain?” Oscar was saying.
“Quite out of the ordinary track of vessels,” admitted the commander, nodding his head in the affirmative. “Seldom does a ship pass here, because the region has a bad reputation. You see it is directly in the customary track of all those West Indian hurricanes that are bred around the Windward Islands, make a great curve, and then sweep toward the Florida coast, generally to pass into the Mexican Gulf, though now and then one slips past and goes booming up toward Hatteras.”
“And we must be getting near our first destination, too, I should think?” continued Oscar, with the idea of drawing the old skipper out.
“Right you are there, my lad,” came the quick reply. “Unless something not down on the bills happens to prevent, I expect that by another sundown we’ll be close on Coco Key,” with which parting shot he ducked below, to finish his toilet, and put on his captain’s uniform.
That was apparently good news to the three Camera Boys, judging from the way they proceeded to exchange hand-shakes, while smiles illuminated their several faces. And, lookingaround upon the vast expanse of salt water by which they were surrounded, they naturally wondered whether that persistent black steam yacht could once more find them out.