The two were warm friends, but ever addicted to the playing of jokes upon each other. Sometimes one had the better of it, and sometimes the other.
15Pomp saw what he believed an elegant opportunity to square some past grievances with his friend.
“Golly, I done fix dat chile!” he chuckled. “He laike whisky, do he? Massy Lordy, I gib him de Keeley Cure!”
With which, still chuckling, he reached up and took down a small bag of ground red dust and seeds, and which was marked “Ground Red Peppers.”
“Golly!” chuckled the darky, “he done fink somefin’ got him fo’ suah!”
Into the flask he put a liberal quantity of the ground peppers. Then he touched his tongue to the compound.
The touch fairly lifted him off his feet. A swallow would seem sufficient to send a man up in smoke, so hot was it.
So delighted was the darky with the prospect that he yielded to immediate laughter.
Barney heard it and cried:
“Phwat the divil ails yez, naygur? Phwat do yez foind so funny?”
Pomp sobered at once.
“I was jes’ larfin’ to mahse’f,” he replied hastily, fearful that he would be suspected.
“Laughin’ at yesilf! Well, shure that’s nothin’ to be wondhered at. But shure will yez hurry up wid the crather?”
“Yo’ hold yo’ patience jes’ a bit till I put dis bread in de oven!” replied Pomp, “I’se comin’.”
Then he picked up the flask and sprang up the stairs. Barney took it from his hand eagerly.
“Begorra, it’s a gintlemon yez are!” cried Barney, “yez know well enuff phwat I need.”
With which the Celt threw the flask to his lips.
Pomp stood eagerly waiting for the explosion. Gurgle, gurgle went the liquor down his throat.
The darky stared.
Could he believe his senses?
The Celt slowly and deliberately drained the flask. Then he laid it down and said:
“Bejabers, that tastes loike some whisky I once got in Donnybrook!” he said. “It’s fairly aloive!”
Pomp gave a gasp.
Then he picked up the flask and looked at Barney like one in a dream. His eyes fairly rolled in their sockets.
Barney looked at him in surprise.
“Phwat the divil ails yez!” he cried. “Shure are yez sick?”
“N—no, sah!” replied the dazed coon, “but—did yo’ drink all dat whisky roight down an’——”
“Phwat the divil did yez expict me to do? Did yez want a sip yersilf?”
“N—no, sah!” spluttered the coon, “but—but——”
16He said no more, but made his way down the stairs slowly to the galley. There he scratched his woolly pate and muttered:
“On mah wo’d I neber heerd ob sich a mouf an’ stummick as dat I’ishman hab got. I done fink he make a good meal on window glass any time he feel laike it.”
But Barney had tasted the most fiery of liquors too many times to mind a little thing like this. He knew from the taste that the darky had doctored the liquor, and he suspected what it was.
So he chuckled to himself.
“Begorra, the coon thought he had me solid that toime. But fer a fact he got badly left, fer divil a bit do I moind a little foire in the crather.”
But Barney laid it up against the darky just the same, and muttered:
“I’ll foix him fer it!”
While Pomp said:
“I done fink dat I’ishman am cast iron inside. I never fought he was sich a tough man afore.”
But for all that, the whisky did affect the Celt.
It was powerful strong and made Barney feel a bit tipsy. His hand was not so strong at the wheel.
As a result, an accident occurred. The boat was approaching a reef at full speed, when Barney’s foot slipped and he fell.
Before he could regain his feet the wheel spun around, there was a shock, and everybody was hurled to the cabin floor. The lights went out, there was a booming of waters and all was darkness.
The boat stood still. Frank Reade, Jr., was the first to recover himself.
He arose and groped his way into the pilot-house.
“Mither save us!” came a voice from the corner; “shure, it’s kilt I am intoirely!”
“Barney!” cried Frank, “what has happened?”
“Begorra, Misther Frank, divil a bit kin I tell yez. I think, though, that we have run ferninst a reef, sor!”
“Well, that’s pretty work!” cried Frank angrily. “What do you mean by such stupidity?”
“Shure, sor, I hope yez will not blame me too much. Me fut slipped an’ I fell.”
There was nothing to be done but make the best of it, though Frank gave the Celt a good reprimand.
Then he made haste to examine the exact position of the submarine boat and her chances.
It was an affair more than ordinarily serious. The reflection that they might be immovably fixed on the reef gave all the voyagers a chill.
17The electric lights were quickly turned on, and the engines carefully inspected.
These fortunately were fond to be uninjured.
Frank reversed them, with a view to drawing the boat off the ledge if possible.
But this was useless. The boat was stuck there, and would not move. It was a serious case.
What was to be done?
They were many fathoms deep in the sea. Unless the boat could be freed from her position on the ledge, their fate would be too dreadful for contemplation.
Doomed to die of starvation at the bottom of the sea. It was a dreadful thought.
Clifford was very pale as he approached Frank and said:
“What are the chances, Mr. Reade?”
Frank shook his head slowly.
“Rather scant!” he said. “I can give no definite answer until after I have taken a look at her from the outside.”
“From the outside?”
“Yes.”
Clifford looked surprised.
“How can you do that?” he asked.
“Easy enough,” replied Frank. “I have a patent diving suit which I can wear.”
“Well, I am interested,” declared Clifford. “How will you dare to venture out in these waters in a diving suit? I should think the pressure would be too great.”
“Not with my new diving suit,” replied Frank. “I have perfected it so that, as no life line is used, a pressure of almost any depth can be resisted.”
“Without a life line? How do you breathe?”
“By means of a chemical generator which is portable and is carried on the back. It furnishes the best of air and is similar to the generator which furnishes our boat with oxygen.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Clifford. “You are truly a man of inventions, Mr. Reade.”
Frank laughed.
“That is the most simple of all my inventions,” he said.
“You don’t happen to have two of those wonderful diving suits, do you?”
“I have half a dozen.”
“Good! Would you mind my putting on one of them and accompanying you?”
“Certainly you may.”
Frank called to Barney, who brought out the diving suits. Two of them were selected.
Frank and Clifford were soon encased in the suits, and ready to leave the cabin.
18Each carried a small ax at the girdle. Otherwise they were unarmed.
Of course there was something to fear from the monsters of the deep, but neither shrank from the risk. A moment later they entered the vestibule.
Then Frank closed the cabin door and pressed a valve. Instantly the vestibule filled with water.
It was an easy matter to open the outer door and walk out on the deck.
It required some moments for both to get accustomed to the unusual pressure. But after awhile they were enabled to see and think clearly.
Then Frank began to descend from the deck to the bed of the sea. He found solid footing in the sand which covered that part of the reef.
He made his way slowly along to the bow of the Dolphin.
A glance was enough.
The steel ram of the vessel was driven deep into the reef and seemed immovable. The keel rested in a cleft of coral which bound it tightly on all sides.
So intent was Frank upon examining the position of the Dolphin that he gave no thought to anything else about him.
So it happened that Clifford, who had been engaged in looking for coral specimens, came near getting into a bad scrape.
It happened in this way:
He had caught sight of a curious coral growth jutting out from the reef, and was determined to make an effort to secure it.
He clambered up a steep place and placed his hand upon the coral. At the same moment he noticed an orifice in the rock just to his right.
Even as he did so he fancied he saw the glitter of something bright beyond. But he gave it no heed.
This was Clifford’s mistake.
For while reaching for the coral a long, sinewy arm darted out of the orifice. In an instant it wound itself about the body of the unsuspecting diver.
It wound about him in serpentine fold and he was torn from his perch and drawn toward the orifice.
In one swift instant Clifford realized his peril and the character of his foe.
He knew that the sinewy arm was really the tentacle of a fierce octopus or sea-cat, and that its horrid jaws were waiting to mangle him.
And he seemed powerless to resist. For a moment he was dazed with utter horror and indecision.
What should he do?
This was a problem.