DESPERATE MEASURES.

Ensign Glennie was as brave and gallant an officer as ever left Annapolis, but he was taught to look at such enterprises as Dick had broached in a sane and logical manner. This desperate measure, viewed in that light, seemed the height of reckless folly.

Matt had four guards—the captain of the war ship and three marines. The captain was armed—probably with the sword alone—but the marines certainly had muskets.

Here, then, was the situation: He and Ferral, with only their two hands for weapons—Glennie had left his revolver on the submarine—were to attack four armed men in the attempt to rescue Matt!

Even if fortune was kind to them, and they were able, in some manner, to get Matt away from his guards, there was a barracks full of soldiers within sound of the captain's voice; and how could Matt, and Dick, and Glennie run the gantlet of the whole town?

But Glennie had given his word, and he would stand to it, no matter what the cost. It was a matter of pride with him to meet any plan Dick Ferral might propose.

The ensign did not think, for a minute, that there was anything unjust in taking Matt by force away from the captain of the war ship. A mistake had been made by the captain, but there was no time to let the blunder be rectified by the ordinary course of events. As Dick had said, the fate of the Grampus might depend on her leaving Punta Arenas the next morning.

The cause was a just one—but foolhardy.

Matt and his guards had landed at quite a distance from the pile of timbers behind which Dick and Glennie were lying concealed. The path from the wharf led past the end of the pile, and it had not been difficult to discover that the approaching party was following the path.

The party was close, very close, as the two youths knelt near the ends of the timbers, listening to the crunch of footsteps and prepared for their reckless work.

"What's your plan?" whispered Glennie.

"Nothing but to jump out at 'em with our fists," whispered Dick. "As soon as Matt knows what's up, he'll help. And say, he's got a 'right' that could put any one of that outfit to sleep!"

"I hope none of us will be put to sleep while we're getting Matt in shape to use his 'right.'"

"Don't croak!"

"Never. I'm merely thinking of what might happen."

"Hist now! Here they come. Jump when I give the word."

In that critical moment Glennie thought how much better off he and Dick would have been, and how much more certain of success, if they had brought Speake and Clackett along with them. But it was too late to think of what might have been. Dick and Glennie were face to face with the emergency, and must, alone and unaided, deal out the desperate measures themselves.

The crunching footsteps approached. Glennie caught a glimmer of starlight on a musket barrel, and saw dimly two marines marching ahead, followed by Matt, with a uniformed figure and another marine bringing up the rear.

"Now!" roared Dick.

His voice was loud enough to arouse the town. Dick made it so purposely. He aimed to startle the guards—to hold them panic-stricken, if possible, until Matt could be apprised of conditions and help in the resulting battle.

In this Dick was entirely successful. Every member of the party jumped, even Matt.

"It's Dick and Glennie, Matt!" cried the young sailor. "Get into it, old ship! Everything hangs on our success!"

Dick, while he spoke, was plunging at one of the marines. Glennie leaped at another. Matt, quick to realize what was afoot, turned on the third. Captain Sandoval drew his sword.

Before the sword could be used, Matt whirled about, the marine's musket in his hands. Clash! The sword struck the musket barrel and Matt, by a dexterous jerk, flung the blade a dozen feet away into the darkness.

Captain Sandoval, thus suddenly unarmed, set his face toward the barracks and ran with all his speed, shouting at every jump for the soldiers.

"Don't hurt anybody!" panted Matt. "Don't make this a serious matter instead of a—a farce!"

"It will be a mighty serious matter if we don't get you down to the Grampus in short order," puffed Glennie.

He had toppled over the marine whom he had chosen for an antagonist and was struggling to get his musket; but the marine, agile as a monkey, rolled out from under the ensign's gripping fingers, bounded erect, and made off into the gloom like an antelope.

A blow, and then a grab and a jerk, all judiciously given, had placed Ferral in possession of the weapon belonging to the other marine. Those who were unarmed had rushed away on the track of the captain. The one who had retained his musket, however, paused somewhere among the shadows and began to fire.

Bang!

A bullet whistled through the air close to Glennie's head.

"Cut for it!" shouted Dick. "Don't let any grass grow under you! This way, Matt."

Dick started for the wharf, pointing so as to reach it at the nearest point to the submarine. Matt and Glennie pushed after him—three fleeing streaks rushing for the water front of Punta Arenas with the clamor of alarmed soldiers awaking frantic echoes around the barracks.

Bang! went a revolver.

The marine, emboldened by the sounds from the barracks, pursued the fugitives, firing as he came. His bullets, launched while he was running, went wide of their targets.

"We'll never make it!" breathed the ensign.

"We've got to make it!" flung back Dick over his shoulder.

"But the Grampus—it will take time for those aboard to get up the anchors and to come to the wharf for us!"

"We'll win out!" asserted Dick stoutly. "Save your breath and run!"

Stumbling over the litter that had been scattered from the wharf, the three fugitives reeled and sprawled their way through the darkness. Even a fall, if it was in the right direction, was a distinct help.

Dick, being in the lead, was the first to reach that part of the wharf nearest the Grampus. The boat, looking like a black blot on the water, was tantalizingly out of reach.

Dick whistled shrilly.

Bang! It was not another bullet, but the hatch cover being thrown open.

"Vat it iss?" came the wavering voice of Carl.

"Pull up your mud hooks and come to the wharf!" shouted Dick. "Matt's with us—and we're defying the whole town. Everybody in the place is tight at our heels."

"Himmelblitzen!" cried Carl. "Der anchors vas coming oop alretty, aber id dakes a leedle time——"

The marine blazed away again. Carl, interrupted in the midst of his remarks, gave a hollow gurgle.

"Vat a safageness!" he exclaimed, "aber pulleds vat don'd hit don'd amoundt to nodding."

"Start the motor!" called Matt. "If the anchors are clear they can be carried this way while the chain is being taken in."

The jingler could be heard answering Carl's pressure on the push button. The propeller began to churn the water, but the boat did not move.

"They're sticking to the bottom!" groaned Dick. "Oh, what a beastly run of luck!"

A yelling pack was rushing toward the wharf from the barracks.

"We can't wait here until that outfit comes within rifle shot," declared Glennie. "We've got to get behind the iron walls of the submarine."

"How can we do it if the anchors hang to the bottom?" returned Dick.

"Swim!"

Splash! The ensign was in the water. Then there were two more splashes as Matt and Dick followed.