The electric projector was turned against the forward lunettes, and, with this trail of light stretching before them, the Grampus plowed her way through the breaking seas and safely escaped the reefs that lined her course.
Morning found the submarine still several hours from Belize.
Ysabel and Speake got breakfast, and while it was being eaten a cry of “Sail, ho!” came from Clackett, who was in the tower.
“Where away?” called Bob, only passively interested.
“Dead ahead,” answered Clackett. “But I ought to have said ‘Smoke, ho!’ as the craft is a steamer.”
“Which way is she heading?”
“Toward us.”
“Then probably she’s some Costa Rica fruiter.”
Bob went on with his eating. Dick was below, standing his trick at the motor in order to give Gaines a chance to eat and rest.
“We’re going back to Belize,” said Gaines humbly, “and I feel like a criminal, caught and carried back to jail.”
“Why so?” inquired Bob.
“Why, because Speake, Clackett, and I got the196 Grampus into that mess of trouble. She’s had more narrow escapes this trip than she ever had since she was launched—and when we listened to the don you’d have thought we were off on a little pleasure excursion.”
“I feel mighty tough myself,” put in Speake.
“So do I,” cried Clackett from the conning tower.
A little of the conversation had drifted up to him—enough so that he could catch the prevailing sentiment of the remarks.
“Don’t fret about what you can’t help, men,” said Bob.
“But what will Cap’n Nemo, junior, say?” said Gaines.
“Why, you said he’d be glad we went, after we came back and reported,” said Speake. “Have ye changed yer mind, Gaines?”
“I’ve changed my mind a good many times since we set off on this cruise,” replied Gaines.
“I don’t believe the captain will find any fault with you,” said Bob. “I’ll do what I can to smooth the thing over.”
“It’s like you to do that,” returned Gaines gratefully. “You were the same with Cassidy, that other time when he came in from the River Izaral, and I remember I thought you were rather too easy on him.”
“We all thought that,” said Speake. “And I’m free to say that I think Bob’s too easy on us.”
“That bag with the gold pieces was left down in the torpedo room,” went on Clackett.
“It was?” queried Bob, deeply interested.
“Yes. I left it there. I wouldn’t have touched it with a ten-foot pole.”
“That will pay for a new periscope ball and mast,” said Bob, “and for the provisions and gasoline we197 used up on this trip. Taking it all together, we’ve had a very successful cruise——”
“Hot and lively,” put in Speake.
“And short,” added Gaines; “that’s the best part of it. If it had kept up much longer, I’d have been down with heart failure. We not only had a close call in the matter of losing the ship to Fingal and his gang, but likewise in the matter of that submarine mine. My nerves are in rags, and I hope Nemo, junior, isn’t going to sit down on us too hard. That would be about the last straw!”
“Hard luck that we couldn’t have nabbed Don Carlos,” wailed Speake. “I’d have taken particular pleasure in herding him with the rest of our prisoners.”
“We’ve got Pitou,” said Bob, “and he’s of more importance. There——”
“Hello, down there!” came from Clackett.
“What now, Clackett?” sang out Bob.
“That steamer’s a warship—I’ve just been able to make her out. By jing, I believe she’s the Seminole!”
The announcement aroused a commotion.
“Make way for us to get out on deck, Clackett!” called Bob. “If she’s the Seminole, I want to speak to her.”
Bob, Speake, Clackett, and Ysabel clustered on the forward deck near the conning tower.
“Get the code book and the signal flags and the binoculars,” cried Bob. “She’s got signals going up at her gaff and wants to talk to us.”
Speake went below for the required articles, and, after fifteen minutes of study and work, Bob and his friends learned, to their surprise, that the Seminole had put in at Belize the day before and had been sent by the American consul to find the submarine. There was so much to be said that signal flags could not198 convey that the cruiser hove to and had the Grampus come around under her lee.
In this manner the submarine was able to come quite close—so close that Bob and Dick could see their tow-haired chum on the cruiser’s bridge. Carl picked up a megaphone and hurled greetings at his friends.
Then the captain grabbed the trumpet out of Carl’s hands to do a little talking that amounted to something.
“We’ve started for the Izaral River to look for you,” called the captain.
“How did you know where we had gone?” asked Bob.
“Don Ramon Ortega furnished the clew to the American consul at Belize.”
“Where did Don Ramon get the clew?”
“Your Dutch pard helped—but he’ll tell you about that later. What’s the matter with your periscope?”
“Bombarded by revolutionists.”
“Great Scott! Where?”
“Off Port Livingstone.”
“If those fellows to the south don’t capture that little scoundrel, Pitou, before long, some of the bigger nations ought to interfere.”
“He’s captured,” said Bob.
“Is that so? I didn’t think Mendez would ever do it.”
“He didn’t. We’re the ones!”
“Well, well! How did you manage?”
“The general got tangled up in his spurs, and before he could get clear we snaked him below decks.”
A roar of laughter came through the cruiser’s megaphone.
“He’s not the only prisoner we’ve got,” went on Bob. “Fingal is below!”
199
“Bully! We want him. Perhaps we had better take all your prisoners, eh?”
“We’d like to get rid of them.”
“Well, stay where you are and we’ll send a boat.”
“You mustn’t let Pedro go, Bob!” exclaimed Ysabel.
“That’s so,” said Bob. “Suppose you go down, little girl, and set Pedro free. Send him to the torpedo room and tell him to wait there until the cruiser is gone.”
Ysabel vanished into the tower.
Meanwhile the cruiser had been clearing away a boat. When she hove alongside the submarine, Carl Pretzel, wearing a grin that could have been tied behind his ears, was sitting in the bow.
“I vill go mit you part oof dis groose, anyvay,” he whooped. “Drow some lines so dot I may come apoard.”
A line was thrown and Carl was heaved from the rocking rowboat to the submarine’s deck. He threw his arms around Bob and almost hugged him over the side of the Grampus.
“I vas so habby as I don’d know!” he bubbled. “I t’ought you vas gone for goot, und I vasn’t going to see you again! Dere iss a lod to dell, I bed you, und I——”
“We haven’t time to tell anything just now, Carl,” said Bob. “As soon as we get rid of our prisoners we’ll have a little leisure.”
Carl restrained himself, assisted in the work of getting the prisoners up and transferred, and then watched while the launch pulled back to the cruiser with its melancholy load.
“What will you do with Pitou, captain?” called Bob through his megaphone.
“Turn him over to the government of that country200 down there to be punished for running off the American consul, and for his many other outrages against peaceable Americans.”
“What do you think the government will do with him?”
“Firing squad at sunrise,” was the laconic response.
“What about Fingal?”
“Our country will take care of him. He’ll make a good cellmate for his brother, Jim Sixty. Sorry you didn’t capture Don Carlos Valdez. The governor at Belize would like to lay hands on him. He made an unprovoked attack on the Spanish consul, and, if caught, would do time for it.”
By that time the launch had got back to the ship’s side, and Bob, bidding the captain of the cruiser a hearty good-by, started the Grampus onward toward Belize.
Speake took the wheel for a while, and the three chums were able to enjoy a quiet little talk together. While they were at it, the door of the prison room opened and Ysabel Sixty stepped out. Carl almost fell off his seat.
“Iss dot a shpook vat I see?” he mumbled, staring at the girl, “oder iss id Miss Sixdy, der peaudiful maiten vat I know so vell?”
“Don’t be foolish, Carl,” Ysabel protested, smiling.
“Foolishness iss natural mit me—I vas porn dot vay. I see somepody on der teck oof der supmarine, ven ve first come glose, und I t’ought id looked like you in der face, aber dose poy’s clothes make some greadt shanges. How id vas, anyhow?”
“Look here, Carl,” said Bob, “did you borrow a guitar from a fellow at the hotel the night the submarine left Belize?”
Carl proceeded to work up quite a temper.
“You bed you!” he cried; “und vat you t’ink? Dot201 feller make me pay six tollar for dot kiddar! Vy, I ged him for two tollar by any shdore in der Unidet Shdates vat I know. Dot’s right. Six tollar! Dot’s vat he make me pay.”
“What happened to the guitar? How did you come to smash it like that?”
Thereupon Carl turned loose and told all about his disastrous serenade, and how he climbed into the premises of Don Ramon Ortega, found the don bound and gagged in his sitting room, released him, and then hurried with him to the hotel to find Bob, and then to the landing, only to discover that the submarine had left the harbor.
“After dot,” proceeded Carl, “der gonsul vas der feller for us. He say dot der Seminole vould be in der harpor in der morning, und dot he vould haf her go und look for der supmarine und Bob Steele. Und dot vas vat he dit, und py shinks I vent along. Now, den, you fellers tell me all aboudt eferyding. I vandt id all, mit nodding lefdt oudt.”
Carl got every detail, and by the time the boys were through straightening the various events out in his mind, Speake was ringing the motor-room jingler for less speed, and signaling for anchors.
“Belize!” he called. “We’re at our old berth. Cut out the talk, down there, and make ready to go ashore. Let Carl and Dick be the anchor watch, Bob, for you know that Clackett, Gaines, and I have business with Captain Nemo, junior.”