THE TIGHTENING COIL.

Matt, supposing that the actions of the two marines was a mere formality, made no comment. The captain sat in a chair before a desk, smoking a cigar and scowling at him. He did not ask Matt to sit down.

"Who owns that submarine?" the captain jerked out.

"Captain Nemo, Jr., of Philadelphia," Matt answered, a little resentful because of the captain's curt manner.

He and his chums had captured the convicts and had thus performed a good deed for the Chilian government. It seemed to Matt as though he was entitled to a little more courtesy.

"Captain Nemo, Jr.," muttered the captain. "Carramba! A fictitious name. There is a story about a Captain Nemo. Why do you talk to me like that?"

"I am telling you the truth!" answered Matt. "Will you tell me your name, sir?"

"Why do you wish to know that?"

"So I may report this conversation to the naval officer aboard the Grampus. He will enter it in his log, which, at the end of this cruise, will be submitted to the navy department of our government."

The captain's eyes glimmered like coals.

"So!" he snapped. "You think me afraid? Ah, ha! I am Captain Enrique Sandoval, of the Chilian war ship Salvadore. Report it. What is it to me? Now, if you please, have you a wireless telegraph instrument aboard the submarine?"

"We have. What of that?"

"Then you admit it!"

"I don't know why I shouldn't admit it," answered Matt coolly.

"Why have you a wireless machine on your boat?" went on the captain.

Matt had no intention of telling this Captain Sandoval about his trouble with the Sons of the Rising Sun.

"That is my business, Captain Sandoval," said he.

"Si, and mine, too, as you will find. Yesterday, this war ship was in Smyth Channel. Her wireless machine was out of commission and could not be used. The station at Punta Arenas kept calling for me. You answered! You replied that your boat was the Salvadore! You took the message about the escaped convicts from the air. Why? Because you wanted to find them, take them aboard, and help them escape! Carramba!"

Matt was astounded. Captain Sandoval punctuated his words by jabbing a long forefinger into the air, but Matt hardly saw the finger, or the wildly triumphant look on the captain's face.

"That is not true, Captain Sandoval," said Matt, his face flaming indignantly. "If we were trying to keep the convicts out of your hands, why should we turn them over to you, here in the strait?"

"Garcia told me," went on the captain. "He and his men were to pay you money to take them to the River Plate. You took them off the sailboat, and then you lost your courage and came westward along the strait to leave them at Punta Arenas."

"That is not the truth!"

"Don't talk so to me!" frowned the captain. "Be respectful."

"I shall tell you what I think," answered Matt. "What you say is worse than foolish. Who is this Garcia?"

"He is the leader of the convicts—the one who planned the escape. I say you helped them, because you thought they would give you money."

"There is not a word of truth in what you say!" declared Matt.

The captain started up from his chair.

"Ah, ha!" he screamed. "You dispute the word of Captain Enrique Sandoval?"

"Oh, splash!" exclaimed Matt disgustedly. "I'm going, but this insult shall be reported to our state department."

"Your state department!" sneered Captain Sandoval. "When you try to help Chilian convicts escape, you put yourself out of the protection of your state department."

Matt stepped to the door. Two muskets dropped across the opening in front of him. The king of the motor boys whirled around and drew himself up to his full height.

"What does this mean, Captain Sandoval?" he asked crisply. "Am I not to be allowed to leave this ship?"

"No; you are under arrest."

Matt, waiting no longer for an invitation, sat down in a chair.

"You are piling up a lot of trouble for yourself, Captain Sandoval," said he coolly. "You're a reasonable man, or ought to be, as captain of a war ship, but is there any sense in arresting me on such a ridiculous charge as the one you have just mentioned?"

"The charge is enough," growled the captain. "But there is another."

"What is it?"

The captain's talk was so outrageously nonsensical that Matt, in spite of his desperate situation, could not help but find some amusement in his preposterous assertions.

"You, over your wireless machine, claimed to be the war ship Salvadore. That is enough, more than enough, to cause your arrest."

Matt was beginning to see through the whole proceeding.

Captain Sandoval, for reasons of his own, chose to take the word of the convict, Garcia, in preference to Matt's. Garcia had made his threats that, if Matt persisted in turning him over to the Chilian authorities, he would make trouble for the Grampus. This, undoubtedly, was what the convict was now trying to do.

Garcia had been the first one sent aboard. He had at once told his false story to one of the petty officers, who, in turn, had carried it to the captain.

As for the wireless part of it, the machine on the Grampus had not been strong enough either to receive messages from Punta Arenas, or to send them there. Punta Arenas had heard the Japanese boat talking. The Japs had claimed to be the war ship for nothing else than to receive a possible message regarding the whereabouts of the Grampus.

But Matt could not explain the case of the Sons of the Rising Sun to Captain Sandoval. Sandoval might attempt to get into communication with the Japanese boat, either to confirm Matt's story, or for some other purpose. The result would be that the Sons of the Rising Sun would learn that they had been tricked, and that the submarine was in Magellan Strait. Then, if the Grampus was held any length of time in Punta Arenas, pending an investigation, the Japanese boat would have time to get around to Smyth Channel before Matt and his friends could reach the Pacific.

The young motorist took a look ahead, and held his peace regarding his Jap enemies.

"You are making a big mistake, Captain Sandoval," said Matt quietly. "I shall appeal to the American consul at Punta Arenas."

The captain showed his teeth in a snaky smile.

"I shall have much to say about what you will do," he answered.

"You will not allow me to return to the submarine?" asked Matt.

"I shall take you, a prisoner, on this war ship to Punta Arenas."

"How about the submarine?"

"The submarine will follow us. We——"

An officer appeared at the door.

"Captain," said he, "one of the prisoners would speak with you."

This report was made in Spanish, but Matt translated it.

"Let him be brought here properly guarded," said the captain.

A few minutes later, the wounded Chilian was brought in by two marines. This was the man Matt had taken such a desperate risk to save at the time the five convicts were taken from the overturned boat.

"Amigo," said the prisoner, looking at Matt and tapping his bandaged arm.

Here, then, was a friend where Matt had least expected to find one. For some time the convict talked, the captain listening incredulously. When he had done, the captain ordered him away.

"The fellow says," observed the captain, to Matt, "that Garcia speaks lies, nothing but lies. But this fellow wants to help you, for he says you saved his life."

"He is truthful," said Matt.

"I reason for myself," declared the captain shortly.

"If you delay the Grampus at Punta Arenas," went on Matt, "our government will hear of it and will make trouble for you and your government."

"I do my duty," answered the officer, patting his gold-laced chest; "Captain Enrique Sandoval always does his duty. It is not for you to tell me what I must do."

"Will you take me to jail in Punta Arenas?" asked Matt.

"No, not to the jail. The house of the harbor master will do. You will be kept there until the convict, Garcia's, story is looked into."

"How long will that take?"

"A week, two weeks—I do not know how long."

"I shall not stay in Punta Arenas more than a day, at most!" declared Matt. "The submarine must be taken into the Pacific and up the coast without delay."

"We shall see," said Captain Sandoval, pulling at his mustache and shrugging his shoulders.

"We shall see," repeated Matt, "if the American consul, when appealed to by the naval officer aboard the Grampus, has any power to undo this outrage."

The captain waved his hand to the marines and gave them an order. The guards stepped to Matt's side, motioned for him to stand up, and led him off to a small room opening upon the same passage that led to the captain's quarters. Here Matt was locked in, and presently he heard muffled orders, a jingling of bells, and the Salvadore began putting about for the run back to Sandy Point.