THE MAN-OF-WAR.

With an armor of steel between him and the arrows, Matt could laugh at the puny efforts of the Fuegans to do any harm. With his eyes at the lunettes, he guided the Grampus toward the outlet of the bay.

The savage ardor of the Fuegans increased as they saw the monster apparently running away. Closer and closer they drew their circle of boats, two in each small craft using the paddles and the other two continuing to discharge their arrows. The canoes on the side toward which the submarine was making did not give way an inch, but continued to come boldly on. Two warriors in each leaped to their feet and hurled taunts at the frightened leviathan, letting their arrows fly directly against the bow. In a few moments the Grampus was upon one of these canoes, staving it in and tossing its splintered pieces to right and left.

Four Fuegans were in the water. They were canoe Indians, however, and as much at home in the water as on dry land. Swimming away, they were picked up by some of their comrades in the other canoes.

Meanwhile, three canoes had managed to come alongside. Some of their occupants clambered to the deck of the Grampus and began stabbing at the plates with the points of their arrows. Fearing they might come to the tower and damage the lunettes, Matt ordered a ten-foot submergence.

As the submarine began to sink, the Fuegans flung themselves from the deck—and that was the last Matt saw of them.

"Take the wheel below, Glennie," called the young motorist. "We'll travel a short distance submerged and see if we can't leave those troublesome little fellows behind."

Glennie went to his work and Matt descended. Ten minutes later the Grampus again sought the surface, and a look from the conning tower showed that the savages had been left out of sight around a point of land.

"Here is our course, Glennie," said Matt, laying a chart on the periscope table, and running his finger along the route they were to take; "through the first and second narrows, and so on to Cape Negro. I've got to leave you to do the steering for a time while I open the door and release Clackett and Speake. One of those two Chilians got away with the key, and, for all the good it can do us, it might as well be in the bottom of the ocean."

"I can take care of the Grampus, all right," answered Glennie.

"How's your head?"

"It feels as big as a barrel, but otherwise it's comfortable."

Matt went below. Dick was at the motor and Carl was in the tank room with Gaines. The latter had been released and was keeping a watchful eye on the two Chilian prisoners.

"What's been going on overhead, matey?" called Dick.

"The other two Chilians got away," replied Matt, "and we were attacked by a lot of Fuegans in canoes. But their attack didn't amount to much."

"Dose fellers," and Carl nodded to the prisoners, "vas in der vay. Vy nod take dem oop to dot shdeel shamper, Matt?"

"That will be all right, Carl, just as soon as I can get the steel chamber opened. Just now it's locked, and the key is somewhere in the pocket of one of the escaped Chilians. I've got to break the lock in order to let Speake and Clackett out."

Matt went on to the torpedo room, opened a tool box and possessed himself of a hammer and cold chisel. With these he was not long in smashing the lock on the door of the steel room. Speake and Clackett rushed out.

"Jumpin' jerushy!" exclaimed Clackett disgustedly. "We didn't cut much of a figure in the recapture of the boat, Matt."

"We didn't need you," answered Matt. "Carl turned the trick. Once the rest of us got started there was no stopping us. Two of the rascals we rescued got away, but the other two are nicely tied down in the tank room. You fellows had better go down and relieve Dick and Carl, so they can bring up the prisoners. Or, better still, Speake, you might let Gaines take the motor, Clackett the tanks, and you get something for us to eat. We don't want to neglect our appetites during all this excitement."

"I'm hungry myself," replied Speake, following Clackett out of the room, "and I'll not be long getting our whack ready."

"Get every ounce of power out of the motor down there," called Matt. "We've already lost a couple of hours—and we didn't have any time to waste."

Matt took a look at the periscope. They were gliding past the low, sandy shores of Patagonia, on one hand, and the rugged mountains of Terra del Fuego on the other, headed for the Narrows.

"We ought to be at Punta Arenas late this afternoon," said Glennie, "providing we keep up this rate of speed. Shall we put in there?"

"We might as well pass the night there, Glennie," answered Matt. "There's danger in it, but we've got to land these prisoners."

"Where's the danger?" asked Glennie. "Our worst enemies are sailing around the Horn; we're well to the north of them and are due in the Pacific before they are."

"You forget one important point: The Japs have a wireless outfit aboard, and there is another station at Punta Arenas. Suppose the news is flashed out that the submarine Grampus is in the harbor? What's to prevent the Japs from picking it up?"

"That's so," muttered Glennie. "I hadn't thought of that, but it isn't much that gets away from you, Matt."

"I've got a big responsibility on my shoulders and can't afford to let anything get away from me. Even if the news did reach the Japs that we're in the harbor at Sandy Point, headed west, we'd still be ahead of them and their steamer. But they're so full of wily tricks they might hatch up something to make us trouble."

"I'm mighty glad they're going around the Horn, and not us," said Glennie. "You were wise when you made that change in the programme, Matt."

At that moment, Dick and Carl came dragging the leader of the escaped convicts into the periscope room. The fellow began to talk as soon as he saw Glennie.

"Pay attention to him, Glennie," said Matt, taking the wheel out of the ensign's hand, "and let us know what he's saying."

Glennie stepped over to the prisoner and listened to his talk.

"He's making threats," observed Glennie, "and his talk's not worth listening to."

"What does he say?"

"Why, he says that if we turn him over to the authorities at Sandy Point he'll make us more trouble than we can take care of."

"The duffin' old jailbird!" exclaimed Dick angrily. "Tell him that if he talks too much like that we'll toss him overboard, tied as he is."

"He's talking for effect," said Matt. "Take him into the steel room."

"I vish, py shinks," cried Carl, "dot I could dalk Spinnish so I could tell dis feller vat I t'ink oof him!"

When both men had been brought up from below and put into the steel room, Speake had breakfast ready. It was ten o'clock, and rather a late hour for breakfast aboard the Grampus.

Some attempt was made, while the boys were eating, to get some information from the wounded Chilian, but he would not say a word. He ate with his usual heartiness, however, and when the meal was finished, Dick went into the prison chamber and supplied the other Chilians.

No boats were passed, and hour after hour drifted by with the motor singing its song of speed, and the Grampus just "humping herself" through the strait.

Matt kept to the steering himself. He had made a long study of the chart and felt that he was more competent than any of the others to keep the submarine out of danger.

At Cape Negro the scenery began to change, and for the better. The low brushwood became good-sized trees, and there was some character to the shores the submarine was passing.

"It was just our luck to fall in with a bunch of convicts—that is the way our luck has been running ever since we left Port of Spain," grumbled Speake.

"Avast dere a leedle, Shpeake!" warned Carl. "Don'd go finding some fault mit our luck. Ditn't ve got der poat pack from dem confict fellers? Dot vasn't a pad luck, you bed you!"

"Yes, but look at the time we've lost."

"We're making it up, Speake," said Matt. "By the way, Carl," and he turned his eyes on his Dutch pard, "how did you get those ropes off your hands down there in the torpedo room?"

"I vas some foxy fellers, you bed my life," chuckled Carl. "Ven you shkipped oudt, I t'inks, py shiminy, dot I vill make some surbrises. Der dool shest hat its gorner in der shmall oof my pack, und I rupped der ropes oop und down der gorner ondil I rupped dem in doo. Den I vas retty, und you saw vat I dit. Some shtar blays, eh?"

"One of the finest things you ever did, matey," averred Dick, "and you've done a lot of things that stand pretty high on the record."

"T'anks," said Carl. "I ain'd von oof der pragging kindt, aber you bed somet'ing for nodding I'm a hot von ven I durn meinseluf loose. Now——"

"Ship ahoy!" exclaimed Matt suddenly, his eyes fixed on the periscope.

Every one in the periscope room leaped up excitedly.

"What is she?" came from all of them in chorus.

"A Chilian war ship," said Matt.

"Not the—the Jap boat?" gasped Glennie.

"Hardly. The Jap boat wasn't a war ship. This isn't the same steamer, but an armor-clad. Run up the hatchway, Dick, and hail her. We can turn our prisoners over to the captain and won't have to go ashore at Punta Arenas."

"A capital piece of work!" applauded Glennie.

But it was not to turn out such a capital piece of work as they all thought.