Long before they had recovered from their fright, from the strain and the reaction, Rawlins appeared, his face pale, but with its habitual cheerful grin and half-carrying Sam. “I’ll say that was a close call!” he exclaimed, as he placed the negro on a seat. “Say, get some brandy or whisky quick! Sam’s all in.” As the others crowded about, laughing, congratulating, expressing their relief and joy at his escape and forcing liquor between Sam’s blue lips, Rawlins was busily chafing and rubbing the man’s cold body and limbs, slapping his chest and back and giving orders. “Get some hot coffee,” he commanded, “and blankets. He’ll be all right soon. Went to pieces in the air-lock—couldn’t help me off with the suit and had a devil of a time with it. Bully boy, Sam! There, old sport, how do you feel?” A sickly smile spread over Sam’s haggard features. “Ah’s all right, Chief,” he whispered. “Did Ah finish tha’ sea-cat, Chief?” “I’ll say you did!” cried Rawlins. “Cut him clean in two! Blamed lucky for me too. Here, take this coffee!” Sam gulped down the steaming coffee and was wrapped in the blankets and slowly the color came back to his lips and he took deep, long breaths. “You’re all right now,” declared Rawlins. “Be fit as ever and ready for another scrap with an octopus before dinner. Say, Sam, I can’t——” Rawlins swayed, his face went white as a sheet and he grasped wildly at a stanchion. Willing hands seized him and carried him to a couch where, for five minutes, they worked feverishly over him before he opened his eyes and regained consciousness. “By Jove, but you’ve got grit!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson. “Nerviest thing I ever saw! Imagine going through that horror and then bringing Sam in and tending to him before you gave in! Rawlins, old man, you’re a marvel!” Rawlins grinned and rose to a sitting posture. “Guess I was a bit knocked out and shaken,” he admitted. “I’ll say it’s no sport fighting a darned octopus!” and then, with a whimsical smile, “Say, I’ll be able to make a corking film of an octopus next time. I thought that last one of mine was a peach, but it didn’t have enough pep to it. Never thought when I invented that rubber beast I’d ever get in a scrap with a real one.” “Oh, it was terrible!” cried Tom. “How can you joke about it?” “Easy to laugh as to cry,” replied Rawlins. “All’s well that ends well, you know. I guess you’re glad you didn’t go down now.” “You bet we are!” declared Frank. “Gee! I don’t believe I’ll ever go down again. I’d imagine there were devil fish waiting for me everywhere. Ugh!” “Never had to tackle one before,” said Rawlins, “and I’ve been diving for years. Well, I guess I’m O.K. I’ll get busy on that wreck again.” “Not for one minute!” said Mr. Pauling decisively. “You’ll just forget that wreck—at least as long as you are with me. If you feel all right we’ll get out of here as quick as we can and get some fresh air—I’m stifling and my heart’s still beating like a trip hammer.” “Well, I suppose you’re the boss,” grinned Rawlins, “but it’s a shame to clear out with that old galleon and a lot of loot so handy.” “Bother the galleon and her loot!” burst out Mr. Henderson. “No more nonsense on this trip. We’ve had enough of under-sea work to last a lifetime.” Ten minutes later, the submarine was floating on the surface and standing in the bright warm sunshine on deck, with the placid blue sea about and the rich green island beyond, the boys could scarcely believe that they had really undergone such a frightful experience. It seemed like some unreal, horrible nightmare, but the round raw spots on Rawlins’ hands where the creature’s suckers had gripped him were proof of the reality of the battle, and every time the boys thought of it they shuddered and cold chills ran up and down their spines. Rawlins made little of it, joking and laughing as if such matters were of everyday occurrence, while Sam, fully recovered from the effects of his daring rescue, refused to be considered a hero and was ill at ease and embarrassed whenever a word of praise or commendation was expressed. Very soon Santo Domingo was so close that Rawlins advised running submerged and, pointing out a low valley-like expanse extending far into the hills, declared it to be the entrance to CaÑa Honda Bay. With the periscope just visible above the sea, and hugging the shores as closely as they dared, the submarine was run slowly into the narrow opening while the boys, stationed at their instruments, listened for the faintest hint of a whirring screw in their vicinity. But no sound broke the silence under the sea and no sign of another craft was seen. Well up the bay and behind a densely wooded point the sub-sea craft was run into a smaller bay and then, emerging, Rawlins piloted her through a crooked river-like channel until safely screened back of a low sandy beach covered with a grove of coconut trees. “We’re pretty safe here, I think,” he announced. “I came here once with a party of scientists and we camped here when we were on that trip looking for the wreck yonder. If the 'reds’ are hanging out near here they’ll be over the other side of the bay, I think. Those hills over there are full of caves and it’s a wild country. Just the place for such a gang. We can keep an eye on the entrance and the channel from here and go snooping around after dark and maybe pick up a radio message or see a fire or smoke.” “You’ve selected an ideal spot,” agreed Mr. Pauling. “Safe harbor, fresh coconuts, a nice beach for bathing and safely hidden. I don’t know how we could get on without you, Rawlins.” “Well, if I hadn’t got the crazy idea of coming down here you wouldn’t have been here,” the diver reminded him. “So you couldn’t have been without me. But I’m mighty glad I’ve helped a little.” “How about fresh water?” asked Mr. Henderson. “Ours is getting pretty low, you know.” “There’s a stream back on the mainland—just over by that point,” replied Rawlins, “and there’s a sort of inner harbor here too—fine place for fishing and hunting, though of course we can’t hunt—and beyond that a big mangrove swamp that runs clean around to the opposite side of the bay. By going through that we could sneak over around the caves without being seen. Devil of a place to get through, though—regular labyrinth. A man would get lost there in a jiffy without a compass.” It was now nearly sundown and preparations were at once made for the night. It was agreed that no time was to be lost. That as soon as darkness came Rawlins and Mr. Pauling with one of the boys should go out in a boat carrying a receiving instrument and the resonance coil while the others remained in the submarine and listened for any sounds or messages which might come to them. “The trouble is we cannot communicate safely,” remarked Mr. Pauling. “That’s the one great shortcoming of this radio. Any one within range can hear. I don’t know much about the technical end as you know, but I can see that the man who invents a method of communicating by wireless secretly, or so others can’t hear him, will make his fortune and revolutionize the science.” “You’re quite right,” agreed Mr. Henderson. “That’s why it will never take the place of wire telegraphy or telephone—that is, until such a discovery as you suggest is made. However, the very fact that it’s not possible to keep messages secret at present is to our advantage now. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, you know.” “We’ll hope we don’t need to communicate,” said Rawlins. “I don’t see why we should. If we hear anything and locate the gang we can come back here, slip away and call Disbrow. We’re in no shape to make an attack by ourselves.” “I’d like to know why not?” demanded Tom. “We could turn the gun on ’em and we’ve got rifles and pistols and everything.” “Sure,” laughed Rawlins. “I suppose we’d pick up that two-inch gun and lug it over in the small boat and dump it down in their front yard while they looked on. No, Son, if they got wise to us being here they’d either clean out by their sub or scatter in the bush or go for us tooth and nail. A crowd that don’t hesitate to try to torpedo us isn’t going to stop at a scrap and the Lord alone knows how many of ’em there are.” “Rawlins is right,” declared Mr. Pauling. “If we locate them we must plan to make a concerted raid, surrounding them on all sides and with a large enough force to make resistance useless. The man we want may or may not be there, but we must be absolutely sure to get him if he is. If he gives us the slip our troubles will have just commenced.” “Yes, I suppose that’s so,” admitted Tom. “Gosh, I hope we do find them.” Everything was now in readiness, the night was inky black, not a glimmer of light showed upon the submarine and silently embarking in the small boat, Rawlins, Mr. Pauling, Tom and two of the crew pushed off and were instantly swallowed up in the darkness. Sitting at his instruments and listening for any chance sound or message was dull work for Frank and his mind was constantly on what Tom and the others might be doing. Once, very faint and far away, he thought he heard the whirring sound of a screw, but Bancroft, who listened in at Frank’s request, declared he did not believe it was. “At any rate,” he said, “if 't is, it’s a long way off. Maybe some ship outside the bay.” Then followed absolute silence. Bancroft, at the regular instruments, picked up some dot and dash messages flying back and forth between passing ships and the big station at Santo Domingo City, but there was nothing suspicious, nothing that hinted of the proximity of the men they sought. Slowly the time dragged on, hour after hour passed by. Frank yawned and almost dozed while sitting at the instruments. Would the boat never return? Had they heard or seen anything? How, Frank wondered, could Rawlins find his way in such dense blackness? Would they get lost in the swamp he had mentioned? Suppose they never returned? Perhaps they might be captured or killed by the outlaws. The thought startled him. It had not occurred to him before that there was any danger. But once that current of thought was started it ran riot in his brain. He grew nervous, excited, worried, and Bancroft could not cheer him or disabuse him of the premonition that something serious had happened. “Oh, you’d hear ’em, if anything happened,” declared the operator. “They’d call you or something. If they were discovered there’d be no need of keeping quiet. Trouble is, your nerves aren’t over the excitement of this afternoon yet. Cheer up. They’re all right. No news is good news, you know.” “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” admitted Frank, “but just the same I’m worried.” Then to his ears came a faint sound; before he could grasp its meaning he heard footsteps overhead and a moment later Rawlins and Tom descended the ladder with Mr. Pauling close behind them and Mr. Henderson, who had been keeping watch on deck, bringing up the rear. “Gee, I’m glad you’re back!” cried Frank. “I thought sure something had happened to you! Did you find them?” “Not a sign!” replied Rawlins. “Don’t believe they’ve got over here yet.” “Gosh, but it was black!” exclaimed Tom, “and weird. What did you think could happen to us?” Frank, rather ashamed of his unwarranted fears, tried to explain, but Rawlins laughed. “Don’t you worry over anything of that sort,” he told him. “We can take care of ourselves.” “And, as Bancroft said, if anything went wrong we’d let you know,” said Mr. Pauling. “Remember, all of you, if you have trouble or are attacked or anything goes wrong don’t hesitate to call for help or give information. Safety first is the rule and it’s better to lose the game by having the rascals hear us than to come to grief ourselves. I should never forgive myself if anything serious happened to any of us through lack of communicating with the means at hand, regardless of the results as far as catching the criminals is concerned.” “Didn’t you hear anything on the detector?” asked Tom. “Nothing but the splash of your oars when you came and went and, yes, I heard something once I thought was a screw, but is was too faint to be sure and Mr. Bancroft didn’t think it was.” “Funny,” commented Mr. Pauling. “Of course we didn’t go very far—it was slow work getting about in the dark—and we had to turn back as the moon began to rise. They are either not here or else were not talking through their instruments. To-morrow night we’ll have an hour longer and can go farther.” “I think the very fact that they were not conversing by radio proves one of two things,” declared Mr. Henderson. “Either the submarine has not 'come within speaking distance or else all are ashore together when there would be no need of talking by wireless. I imagine that, as they know the destroyer is looking for them, and are aware that we or those on the destroyer have some form of under-sea radio, they would be very cautious about using it and would do so only when absolutely necessary.” “Yes, and they’ll lay low for a while too,” said Rawlins. “They know about the raid in New York and about Smernoff’s escape and they wont try any of their tricks for a time you can bet. They’ll just listen and say nothing and wait until the excitement blows over. It’ll be like stalking a deer to find ’em.” “Yes, or like looking for a needle in a haystack,” agreed Mr. Pauling, “although I should not be surprised if they are occupying one of those caves you mention. Our best plan will be to make a thorough search and trust to luck.” The night passed uneventfully and the boys awoke the next morning feeling as if the adventures of the previous days were all a dream. Nothing could be done during the day and so, after breakfast, they paddled to the beach, had a splendid swim, gathered coconuts to their hearts’ content and came back to lunch with hearty appetites. In the afternoon they went with the two boats to the stream for fresh water and the boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves wandering about in the jungle while the men filled the casks. They had never been in a tropical forest before and they were filled with wonder at every turn. The enormous trees, with their wide-spreading buttress-like roots and the drapery of lianas; the great, broad-leaved air plants and gay orchids; the innumerable palms and brilliant flowers were fascinating. They exclaimed with delight at the gaudy butterflies, the tiny humming birds and bright-plumaged tanagers and were tremendously interested in the hosts of big busy ants carrying bits of leaves in their jaws and moving across the forest floor in an endless procession. Rawlins told them these were “drougher ants” and stated that the scientists with whom he had visited the spot before said they used the bits of leaves for propagating a species of fungus in their nests—“sort of ants’ mushrooms” as he put it—on which they fed. Once the boys were puzzled by a shrill, rather pretty song which seemed to issue from the sky and in vain they searched for the singer until Frank’s sharp eyes spied a tiny atom perched on the topmost leaf of a tall palm—a very midget of a bird—a diminutive humming bird no larger than a bumblebee, whose fluttering wings and trembling throat proved him to be the singer. Again, they were startled by harsh, discordant cries and were just in time to see a flock of green and red parrots winging swiftly away from a tree where they had been feeding. It was all very novel and strange and to the boys, who for so long had been confined to the submarine. It was a most delightful change, and even after the casks had been filled and the boats were ready to depart they insisted on remaining, telling the men to come back just before sundown. With nightfall, the small boat again started forth on its search, Frank this time going with the party while Tom remained on board, but once again they returned unsuccessful. The following day Rawlins suggested going for a fishing trip and with the two boys rowed up through the narrow, winding channel to the inner harbor and for several hours caught fish as fast as they could bait their hooks and drop them into the dark water. Then, with enough fish and to spare, Rawlins rowed them into the dismal mangrove swamp among the maze of trunks, aerial roots and winding channels. This was another new and wonderful experience to the boys. It was low tide and between the densely growing mangroves the mud was exposed and with countless brilliant scarlet and yellow crabs scuttling about everywhere, across the mud, up and down the tree trunks, over the roots, even on the overhanging branches. Many of the trees with their sprawling roots were overgrown with oysters and the boys gathered half a boatload of the bivalves. Rawlins too showed them how the mangroves spread and grew by means of the roots descending from the branches, how the slender but tough cable like roots supported the trees and bound all together into a compact mass and how the trees, ever growing out into the water and accumulating mud and drift about them, formed land. “Some day,” he declared, “this whole swamp will be dry land. After the mangroves come black-jacks and sea-grapes, then palms and other trees, and at last it will be all forest. I’ve seen lots of places like that.” There was bird life in plenty in the swamp too. Green and blue herons, white egrets and scarlet-faced white ibis that flapped up at the boat’s approach and stared curiously at the intruders, uttering half-frightened, hoarse croaks like giant frogs. “Say, it would be fine hunting here,” declared Frank when, a little later, a flock of tree ducks whirred up and perched upon the trees within easy gunshot. “It’s too bad we can’t shoot. Roast duck would go fine for a change.” “I’ll say it would,” agreed Rawlins, “but a fellow could hear a gunshot miles off here and it would give us away in a minute.” Night after night the boat left the submarine, ever going farther and farther in its search, but without results, and each day the boys amused themselves by exploring the adjoining woods and swamps, sometimes with Rawlins, and sometimes by themselves. At first Mr. Pauling had objected to the two youngsters going off alone, but after they had promised always to carry a compass and to be very careful he consented, on the condition that they did not go far and always took along their radio set. “Not only that you may use it in case of real need,” he explained, “but also as it is always possible that you may hear messages. Remember and don’t use the set unless absolutely compelled to, but don’t hesitate if in danger or lost.” On their first two excursions they enjoyed themselves hugely. They had caught plenty of fish, explored a small island in the swamp and found a colony of egrets and herons and had even seen a few of the wonderful, pink, roseate spoonbills. Also, they had been terribly startled when a big broad snout broke through the water a few yards from the boat and with a terrific bellow plunged out of sight. Rawlins laughed heartily when they told of this. “Just a manatee or seacow,” he said. “Perfectly harmless creatures and usually very shy. I’ll bet he was more frightened than you two boys.” On the third day, hoping to again catch sight of a manatee, and intent on exploring another small island they had seen, the boys set forth in high spirits, taking along a lunch and planning to be away until afternoon. Rawlins had planned to go with them, promising to show them an alligator’s nest, but at the last minute changed his mind and decided to tramp inland and ascend a high hill with the hopes of sighting smoke which might divulge the presence of the men they sought. For a time all went well with the boys. They paddled to the portion of the swamp they had already visited, took compass bearings and continued on their way. They found the island they had sighted and spent several hours exploring it and, finding a pleasant sandy beach on the farther side, decided to eat lunch there. Returning to their boat they rowed around to the beach and, seated in the shade of the trees, ate their midday meal while laughing and joking over the clumsy pelicans diving and fishing in an open area of water a short distance away. Suddenly, from beyond a thick grove of mangroves, came the startling bull-like bellow of a manatee. “Come on!” cried Tom. “Let’s go and find him. He’s just back of that point. If we sneak up on him carefully we’ll see him!” Hurrying to the boat they tumbled in and rowed as silently as possible to the point and peered beyond. There was no sign of a manatee, but ever-widening ripples on the calm water showed where some creature had been a few moments before and presently, from up a narrow lane of water, they heard a snort and a short bellow again. “He’s gone up that channel,” declared Frank in a whisper. “Come along! He’s bound to come up. Gee! I would like to see one. Mr. Rawlins says they’re eight or ten feet long and with skin like an elephant.” Paying little heed to where they were going the two interested and excited boys, keen on their chase of the elusive manatee, paddled up the winding channel among the mangroves while ever just beyond, they could hear the snorts or the rumbling bellow of the creature they were following. Presently they swung around a bunch of the trees and found themselves upon a small lake-like lagoon several hundred acres in extent and surrounded by the mangrove swamp. “I’ll bet he’s in here,” declared Tom. “Let’s sit still and watch.” Taking in their oars the boys sat motionless, gazing about the tranquil surface of the lagoon and watching for the expected appearance of the sea-cow. Suddenly Frank gripped Tom’s arm. “Look!” he whispered. “There he is. See, crawling up on that mud bank!” “Gosh! that’s so,” agreed Tom and fascinated, the two boys watched as a big, bulky, black creature emerged from the dark still water and slowly and with great effort drew himself onto the wet mud flat among the trees. “Jimmy, isn’t he a queer beast!” exclaimed Frank in an undertone. “Looks like a seal; and what a funny head!” “I wish we were closer,” whispered Tom. “Don’t you suppose we could sneak nearer?” “Well, we can try,” agreed Frank. “We’ve seen all we can from here and if we do scare him we can see the way he dives. Come on.” Very cautiously, the boys slipped their oars into the water and silently edged the boat closer and closer to the unsuspecting creature. They had reached a point within a few rods of the manatee when the clumsy beast suddenly lifted his head, peered at them with his tiny eyes in a way which Tom afterwards said reminded him of Smernoff, and so quickly the boys could hardly follow his movements plunged into the water. “Gosh!” exclaimed Tom, “I didn’t suppose he could move so quickly. Oh, say, here he comes! Look!” The water where the manatee had drawn himself ashore was shallow and as he strove to reach deep water, frightened out of his few wits by the unexpected sight of the human beings, his broad back broke through the surface like the bottom of a capsized boat and to the boys’ excited minds he seemed headed directly for them. Although Rawlins had assured them that manatees were gentle harmless creatures, yet here, alone in the big, silent, mysterious swamp, the huge beast seemed fraught with danger to the excited boys and they were fully convinced that he was attacking them. Grabbing the oars they strove frantically to get out of his way, but the boat was heavy and clumsy, the boys were frightened and in their mad efforts to avoid the oncoming sea-cow Frank’s oar slipped from the rowlocks, he lurched backwards and before he could recover himself or cry out he plunged overboard. Had Tom not been so terribly frightened he would have roared with laughter at the sight, for as Frank fell he pushed the boat aside and was now floundering about in water up to his waist, struggling madly to regain the boat while the manatee, absolutely crazy with fright at the splash and the appearance of the boy, tried to turn and escape in another direction and in his blind rush bumped into Frank’s legs and knocked him yelling and screaming head over heels. But at the time there was nothing humorous in the situation to either boy. To Frank, startled by the manatee in the first place and shocked and frightened at his unexpected plunge, the poor bewildered creature was a terrifying monster bent on destroying him, while to Tom, equally scared, the manatee’s sudden turn and collision with Frank appeared as a deliberate attack. But it was all over in an instant. The manatee gained deep water and disappeared and Frank, covered with mud and dripping with the water, wallowed to the boat and pulled himself in. “Whew!” he exclaimed as he caught his breath. “That was a narrow escape!” Then for the first time Tom became sensible. “Say, I don’t believe he was after us at all!” he declared. “He was just frightened half to death. Golly, but you look scared!” “So would you if you’d been overboard with that big beast in the water alongside of you knocking you down,” responded Frank. “Come on, I’ve had enough of this, let’s go back.” “All right,” agreed Tom, “Hello, where did we come in?” As he glanced about he realized for the first time that he was not sure of his bearings. A dozen and more openings showed among the mangroves and try as he might he could not tell which was the one by which they had entered the lagoon. For an instant Frank looked about. “Over there,” he declared positively. “I remember that funny-shaped tree.” “All right then,” replied Tom, “I thought for a minute we were lost.” Feeling sure they were right the boys pulled into the narrow channel, chatting and laughing over their adventure until suddenly Tom stopped rowing and glanced about. “Say, this isn’t the place we came in,” he declared. “We never passed here. Look ahead—those stumps are right in the middle of the channel and we’d have seen them sure.” “Golly, I believe you’re right!” agreed Frank, “Say, we’ll have to go by compass.” Dropping his oars he reached into his pocket and slowly a strange expression of wonder, amazement, surprise and fright overspread his face. “It’s gone!” he said in an awe-struck tone. “It’s lost! Gosh, Tom, it must have dropped out of my pocket when I went overboard!” “Jiminy, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Tom. “But you needn’t be so frightened, we can go back and start over again.” “Yes, but suppose we can’t find the right lead?” objected Frank. “Then we will be in a pretty fix!” “Oh, we can find it,” declared Tom reassuringly. “If necessary we can try every one until we get the right one.” Turning their boat the boys pulled rapidly back to the lagoon and after a careful survey decided on another channel. “Hurrah, this is right!” cried Frank after they had rowed some distance, “I remember that clump of reeds. We’re all right.” But after they had rowed steadily for an hour the two boys began to have doubts. “We ought to be out by that island by now,” declared Tom. “I’m beginning to think we’re wrong again.” “I was just getting that same way myself,” admitted Frank. “Say, if we don’t look out it’ll be dark before we get out of here.” “Well we can use the radio,” suggested Tom. “Not unless we have to,” replied Frank. “We still have time to go back and—hello, there’s the island now!” Glancing over his shoulder Tom saw that they had reached a bend in the waterway and beyond it loomed a wooded island. For a moment he gazed at it. “That’s not the island,” he announced. “Look, it’s got palms on it.” “Jehoshaphat, so it has!” exclaimed Frank. “Say, Tom, we’re lost. We’ll have to use the radio.” “Yes, I guess we will,” agreed Tom, “if we go back to that lagoon now we’ll never get out until after dark and Dad’ll be worried to death.” As he spoke, he uncovered the radio apparatus while Frank got out the small portable aerial and erected it over the boat, dropping the ground wire over the side into the water. Tom picked up the instruments, turned on the rheostat and was about to call into the microphone when his jaw dropped, his eyes seemed about to pop from his head and his hand shook. “What on earth’s the matter?” cried Frank, alarmed at the strange expression which had come over Tom’s face. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.” “Hssh!” whispered Tom in a shaky voice. “I near them! I heard those Russians! Gosh, Frank! they must be close by!” |