INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH.
"That's queer, Rob!"
"What's queer, Merritt, the way you've been sitting and staring for the last ten minutes?"
"No; that odd noise. Don't you hear it?"
The two lads were seated in the cabin of the submarine on "night guard duty," as it was called. Following the anxious days when Berghoff had made affairs on the island so filled with uneasiness for the Scouts and their friends, this sentry duty had been regularly maintained.
On this particular night the task had fallen to Rob and Merritt. There was nothing very arduous about it, the only duty involved being to keep ears and eyes open. Both lads had been engrossed in books dealing with their favorite subjects when Merritt called Rob's attention to the odd sound he had noticed.
"Maybe my ears are not quite so sharp as yours, old boy," said Rob, after an interval of listening. "I've got a slight cold, anyhow, and perhaps that's why I don't hear so readily."
"Possibly so."
"You are sure you weren't mistaken?"
"Think I'm hearing things?" indignantly responded Merritt. "No, siree, I'm willing to bet. Hark! There it is again!"
"By Hookey! I heard it that time, too. What can it be?"
"Hush!"
The noise was a most peculiar one. It seemed to be a sort of scraping on the outside of the submarine's hull. The diving craft was anchored at some distance from the shore, so as to be more readily prepared for a projected run the following day. This made the noise all the more inexplicable, as, had the craft been in the shed, it might have been caused by the inventor or the ensign paying a night visit to see that all was well, which they sometimes did.
"Perhaps it's a log bumping against the side."
"No; it appears to come from under the water."
"That's so," agreed Rob; "tell you what, Merritt, it's up to us to investigate."
"Yes, let's go on deck and see what we can find out."
Together the two lads climbed the steel stairway leading to the conning tower, and presently emerged on the rounded steel back of the diving craft. They stood here for a minute or two, trying to get their eyes used to the sudden change from the bright light of the cabin to the inky darkness of the night. It was overcast and starless, and it was impossible under any condition to see more than a few yards about them.
Suddenly Rob clasped Merritt's arm with a grip that made the other lad wince.
"Look! Look there!" he cried. "Off there. It's gone now. It only showed up for an instant."
"It's your turn to be nervous," rejoined Merritt; "blessed if I saw anything!"
"My eyes must be as sharp as your ears, then. I'd swear I saw a shadowy thing sneak away from us across the water."
"What sort of a thing?"
"A boat. I only saw it an instant, of course; but I'm sure I wasn't mistaken."
"You think that somebody in that boat was monkeying with the Peacemaker?"
"That's the only reasonable explanation."
"But what could they have been doing?"
"That remains to be seen; but it's our duty to try to find out."
"What's your plan?"
"Well, that scraping noise appeared to me to come from the under side of the hull."
"Then that's the place to look for mischief."
"But how are you going to get at it?"
"Dive over and feel around at about the place where we heard the sound."
"That was on the port side and apparently right under the cabin floor."
"Then that's the place to look."
As he spoke, the young leader of the Eagles stripped off his shirt, for the night was warm and he was coatless, and then divested himself in turn of his shoes and trousers.
This done, he turned to Merritt.
"I don't know just why, old fellow," he said, "but I've got an idea in my head, somehow, that there's some sort of dirty trick being put up to-night."
"What do you mean?"
Merritt asked the question looking into his comrade's eyes as he clasped Rob's extended hand. For some reason he felt a cold shudder run through him. What the danger was that Rob dreaded he did not know, but there was something in the hand-shake that his leader gave him that almost seemed like a farewell clasp.
Before his inquiry was fairly out of Merritt's mouth, Rob had disengaged his palm and slipped silently over the side of the submarine. As the waters closed above him, Merritt almost cried out aloud. The same mysterious sense of a danger, terrible and imminent, had run through his brain like a warning flash. But it was too late to recall his comrade now.
Whatever peril Rob was facing, he was called upon to brave it out alone.
* * * * * * *
Earlier that evening a small, but fast and high-powered motor boat had glided almost silently out of Bellport, a fishing village on the coast, and, waiting till darkness had descended, made at top speed for the vicinity of the submarine island.
The men who had chartered the craft were two in number. Both were strangers in Bellport, having driven over there that afternoon from the adjacent railway station of Farmington. One was an old man, stoop-shouldered and bleary-eyed. The other was an individual of about thirty, tall, emaciated, and with a wild light dancing in his crafty eyes, which darted back and forth as if constantly on the lookout for something.
Going directly to the Bellport Hotel, they had inquired of Enos Hardcastle, the proprietor, where they could hire a motor boat.
"A fast one?" croaked the old man.
"The faster the better," supplemented his companion, in a queer, rasping voice.
Enos scratched his head.
"Wa'al, motor boat's is scarce around here, though some of ther boys uses 'em in fishing," he said finally.
"Good!" exclaimed the younger of the pair of strangers. "Direct us to the man who has the fastest one."
"That's Lem Higgins; but Lem drives a hard bargain. It'll cost ye——"
"Never mind the cost; never mind the cost," croaked the old man impatiently. "Come, Ivan, let's find this Higgins."
"You go ter ther foot of this street and you'll find Lem down on ther wharf," directed the landlord of the Bellport Hotel, whose curiosity was by this time aroused. There was something odd about the two strangers, almost as odd as the large black bag the younger one carried. This receptacle he held as gingerly as if it contained some article of the most fragile description.
"Beg pardon, strangers," spoke up Enos, "but what might you be after havin' in that bag?"
The slender man turned a pair of blazing orbs on him.
"What business is that of yours?" he snapped out, his queer eyes appearing to emit sparks of malignant fury.
Enos hastened to extend the olive branch.
"Oh, no harm, no harm," he hurriedly exclaimed. "I thought thet you two might be sellin' suthin' the wife 'ud have a use fer, thet's all. Wanted to give you a chancet ter drive a trade."
"I reckon your wife wouldn't care much for what's in this bag," snarled the old man viciously; "and let me give you a bit of advice, my friend: Don't ask questions and you'll be told no lies."
So saying, the two oddly assorted strangers made off down the street, the tall one still carrying the black bag with precise care.
Enos reëntered his hotel, wagging his head sententiously.
"Suthin' queer about them two fellers," he muttered to himself; "ain't sellin' nuthin' an' they don't look as if they was on a pleasure trip. Wa'al, it's none of my business, but if Lem makes a dicker with 'em he'll hev ter come across to me with a commission, an' that's all I care about."
Lem Higgins was sitting on the wharf, swinging his legs and regarding with interest an imminent fight between two dogs of the "yaller" variety, when the old man and his tall companion came up.
"Your name is Lem Higgins?" asked the old man sharply.
"That's what they usually say when they want me," responded Lem. "Do you want me?"
"We want your boat."
Lem's eyes lightened. Fishing had been poor, and perhaps here was a chance to make some easy money. He scrambled to his feet, showing unusual animation.
"You want my boat? You want ter hire her, you mean?"
"Yes. What's your figure?"
The old man was doing all the talking now. His tall companion stood silently by. At his side was the black bag, which he had deposited on the ground with the same curious care that had marked all his dealings with the mysterious article.
Lem ruminated a minute, looked seaward, ejected a small fountain of tobacco juice, and then asked, with his head cocked on one side:
"Where might you be a-goin'?"
"Never mind that, my friend. That is none of your business."
The old man spoke sharply. Lem regarded him blankly.
"None o' my business! Then how in Sam Hill am I a-goin' ter run the boat?"
"You are not going to run it."
"I ain't, eh?"
Lem was all "taken back," as he would have put it. He had been figuring on a good price for the hire of the boat and a further fee for himself as skipper. Certainly neither of the pair before him looked capable of handling a power boat.
"No; if we take your boat we shall run it ourselves."
"You will?"
The astonished Lem gazed at the stooped figure before him. He was almost bereft of words.
"Yes, I will; does that satisfy you?"
"Wa'al, I'll be plumb dummed," choked out the fisherman; "I should think you'd know more about crutches an' arm-chairs than about running gasoline boats."
"Your opinion is not of the slightest interest to me. How much do you want for the boat?"
"Fer how long?"
"From about sunset till daylight to-morrow."
"Fer all night, you mean?"
"Yes."
"That's a queer time to go out."
"Possibly; but we choose to do it. If you don't want to let your boat, say so, and have done with it. We'll find another."
"Oh, as far as thet's consarned, ef you kin run her I don't mind ef you go out any old time. But I'd like ter see ef you kin, afore we go any further."
"Where is she?"
"Right out there. I'll row you out to her. Come on down this ladder; easy, now. You're pretty old for this sort of work."
But, despite the old man's apparent decrepitude, he stepped down the steep and rather rickety ladder, at the foot of which lay a dory, with the agility of a youth. His companion declared that he would remain on the dock.
Guessing that he didn't want to leave the bag, of which he seemed so careful, Lem hailed him.
"Come on and bring your grip, ef ye scared o' leavin' it," he said.
But the other shook his head, and Lem pulled out toward his launch with only the old man as passenger. The launch was a black, rakish-looking craft, and once on board the old man expressed approval of the powerful, two-cylindered engine with which she was equipped.
"Say, you do know suthin' about ingines, don't yer?" admired Lem, after a few sharp questions had shown him that the queer old man really knew what he was talking about.
A muttered grunt was the only reply. The old man was spinning the fly-wheel over, after making a few adjustments of the gasoline and spark supply. A moment later the motor was sputtering and coughing, and the launch was struggling at her moorings.
Lem cast off and ran the craft about the harbor for a while. At the conclusion of the test he was satisfied that the old man actually did understand the workings of gasoline motors. Returning to the wharf, it only remained for a bargain to be struck, and this was speedily done. But Lem still held out for something more.
"Seein' as I don't know you an' you're takin' ther boat out alone, I ought ter hev a deposit or suthin'," he declared, his eyes narrowing.
"What's your boat worth?" demanded the old man.
"Wa'al, I paid a thousand fer her," rejoined Lem, who had only doubled the actual sum the launch cost him.
"Here you are."
The old man reached into a recess of his black coat and produced a roll of currency, which Lem later declared to his cronies would have "choked a horse." Rapidly peeling off several bills of large denomination, he paid the exorbitant deposit, plus the price agreed upon for the hire of the boat for the night. Lem, too astonished to do more than stutter, pocketed the money without a word.
"One thing more," said the old man; "we shall need a small boat to tow along."
"Oh, then yer goin' ter land some place?"
Lem, having recovered the use of his voice, had also regained his rural curiosity.
The old man regarded him angrily, and then, in his peculiar, snarling voice, he whipped out:
"What's that to you? We've paid you too much for your boat, and you know it. Here's fifty dollars more. That's not to ask any questions and not to answer any."
"Oh, I'll keep mum," Lem assured him, pocketing the extra money with sparkling eyes. "When you're ready to go, I'll have a small boat ready for you, never fear."
"Good. We'll be here at five o'clock sharp."
The old man and his companion sauntered off up the street. Lem watched them till they entered the Bellport Hotel. Then, to himself, he exclaimed in tones that fairly burst out of him:
"Wa'al, what d'ye know about that? Them chaps is either lunatics or millionaires, or both. Wa'al, it's none of my affair, an' there might be things I wouldn't do for fifty dollars, but keepin' my mouth shut for a while ain't one of 'em. What a yarn I'll have ter tell when them two chaps gets out of town! Kain't get over thet old feller, though. Fer all his years, he's spry as a boy; suthin' mighty funny about both on 'em."
With this, Lem resumed his seat on the edge of the wharf and dismissed the matter from his mind as far as was possibly consistent with the knowledge of the—to him—gigantic sum reposing in his blue jeans.
Yet, had he known it, he was letting slip through his fingers the possibility of earning a far larger sum. For the man with the queer eyes was Ivan Karloff, a notorious anarchist, for whom a reward of five thousand dollars was offered, following a bomb outrage in New York, and his companion was Berghoff himself.
What were these two men doing in Bellport? Why did they want a fast boat for a mysterious night trip?
The answers to these questions would have held a burning interest for our friends on the submarine island. Like a vicious snake, Berghoff was preparing to strike what he hoped would be a vital blow at the Peacemaker and her guardians. Crafty and unscrupulous, he had invested in his services Ivan Karloff, whose price for dangerous undertakings was high, but whose skill in his nefarious line of endeavor was supreme.
It was about midnight when Lem Higgins' motor boat crept up to a spot not far from where the Peacemaker lay at anchor. Behind her she towed the promised small boat. Berghoff, as we must now call the old man, was at the engines. His companion was steering.
"Is this near enough?" inquired Karloff, in a low tone, as Berghoff slowed up the engines.
"Yes. We want to run no chances. It would not be pleasant for either of us to be nipped now."
No more words were exchanged till the anchor was noiselessly let drop.
Then Berghoff spoke.
"Have you got everything?"
"Yes; it's all in the bag—the wire, the batteries, and all. Wonder what those farmers would have done if they could have guessed what else we had in there?"
"Gone through the ceiling, I reckon," chuckled Berghoff grimly; "but come on, let's get to work. We may have a long job to find the submarine."
"Yes, and we've no time to lose. After the job's done the quicker we put the Atlantic between us and Uncle Sam, the better," was the reply.
"You're not nervous, are you?"
"Nervous! My friend, I have done more dangerous jobs than this."
Depositing the bag carefully in the small boat, the two men rowed off. They made absolutely no noise as they proceeded, the reason for this being that the oars had been carefully muffled soon after they left Bellport, and felt free from observation.
After ten minutes or so of rowing, Berghoff laid a hand on his companion's arm.
"What is it?" asked Karloff, who was rowing.
"Look right ahead. What's that?"
"The glow of a light. Can that be it?"
"It must be. That light is reflected from the conning tower. There is somebody on board."
"That matters not, if they are not on deck. Even so, we can take care of them."
"You mean to hurl it?"
"Yes; but I'd rather fasten it to the craft itself. It's safer for us and more effective."
A diabolical grin stole over the anarchist's face as he spoke. He resumed his cautious rowing.
"There's no one on deck," declared Berghoff, as they crept closer to the dark outlines of the anchored submarine.
"Good; then we can do our work quickly. Have you everything ready?"
"Yes; we'll be alongside in a minute. Don't make a failure of it."
"I have never failed yet," was the quiet reply, spoken in a voice so menacing and evil that it would have caused a shudder to run through any one less hardened than the man to whom it was addressed.
Rob flashed to the surface after a longer interval than Merritt would have believed it possible for anybody to remain submerged. As he appeared, Merritt rushed to aid him upon the slippery deck of the Peacemaker.
Rob shook his head, as Merritt tried to draw him up. Instead, he choked out:
"A pair of pliers. Quick! Our lives depend upon it."
Merritt, who had been working on the engine, happened to have the required tool in his pocket. Without a word, he handed it to Rob. From his leader's manner he knew that down there under the water the boy had discovered some deadly hidden peril. Breathlessly, he watched for his reappearance, for the instant he received the pliers Rob had dived.
* * * * * * *
In the rowboat which they had towed out from Bellport, Berghoff and his companion sat bending over some object. Had it been daylight it could have been seen that this object was a battery box.
Also, daylight would have revealed Berghoff's face as being white and drawn under his disguise; but his companion's evil countenance never changed an iota, as his long fingers sought and found the button of the battery box which lay before him on a thwart.
From this box two wires led off into the darkness. When the button was pressed a flash of electricity would pass through those wires and the climax of a fiendishly ingenious plot would be reached. In the tense silence that preceded the pressing of the button, Berghoff's breath could be heard coming gaspingly. His companion, on the other hand, appeared as cool as an icicle.
"Are you certain we are far enough away?" stammered Berghoff.
"Absolutely. I have no desire to be hoisted by my own petard. Now then, if you are ready, say the word."
"I—I——" stammered Berghoff.
"Bah! You are a coward; come, I am all ready."
"I don't mind the submarine, curse it; but it's the thought of the lives on board her."
"My friend, you are too sensitive. Come, are you ready?"
"Ye-es," choked out Berghoff, his teeth chattering, and the sweat pouring off his face. The man was shaking like a leaf, and his breath came raspingly from between his half-opened lips.
"Now!"
He steeled himself to utter the signal firmly, but it was merely a harsh whisper that issued from his dry throat.
The long fingers pressed down. Berghoff, swaying like a stricken thing, placed his hands before his eyes. But the sound that both had been expecting did not come. No roaring explosion followed the pressing of the button, no flash of livid flame and shattering of the wonderful structure of steel they had hoped to destroy. A death-like stillness prevailed.
"You've failed!" choked out Berghoff.
His companion's eyes flashed in the darkness like a cat's. He swallowed convulsively.
"There is only one explanation," he snarled.
"And that is?"
"That they have discovered the mine. My friend, we had better be leaving as soon as possible. It will not be good for us to be found in this vicinity."
At that very moment two boys were standing with horror-stricken eyes on the deck of the submarine. In his hands Rob held a peculiar looking cylinder of steel. From one end of it hung two severed wires. It was so weighted and balanced as to float a distance of about five feet under the surface of the water.
"If I hadn't found those wires and cut them," Rob said, in an awe-stricken voice.
But Merritt did not answer. He could only clasp his companion's hand. The realization of the fearfully narrow limit by which they had escaped death almost overcame him. The night was hot, but both boys shivered as if stricken with the ague. It was some minutes before they could give the alarm to those on shore. Then the rapid blowing of the whistle used by the submarine when on the surface signalled their companions.
Some fifteen minutes later two pale-faced, wild-eyed lads were explaining to an absorbed group the foiling of the diabolical plot against Uncle Sam's diving boat. It was not long after, that the submarine was rushing through the water for the nearest harbor.
"If we can arouse the police along the coast we may yet be able to capture the authors of this outrage," exclaimed the ensign, as at full speed the Peacemaker clove through the waters.
"Yes; it's hardly probable that they had as swift a boat as this," agreed Mr. Barr. "If we can get ashore ahead of them, we can cause a police net to be spread that they can scarcely break through."
But it was decreed that the fate of Berghoff and his companion should be a different one. Suddenly, off to port of the Peacemaker, the night was split by a roar and a red flash of flame.
"Great Scott! What was that?" gasped out Ensign Hargreaves.
"The searchlight—quick!" cried Mr. Barr.
In an instant the great beam of white light was cutting the night like a fiery sword. Suddenly its rays concentrated on a dark object not far distant from the Peacemaker.
Within the radiant circle was limned a strange picture. Two men were struggling in the water, while beside them the outline of a boat showed for an instant and then vanished forever.
At top speed the Peacemaker was rushed to the scene. She reached it in time for those on board to see one of the two men struggling in the water throw up his arms. The next instant, with a shuddering cry, that might have been either defiance or agony, he vanished as had the boat.
The other man was picked up. He was an old man, seemingly, and almost exhausted from his struggle with the waves. But, as he was being dragged on board, a strange thing occurred. The salt water, with which he was drenched, had likewise soaked his beard and hair. As he was hauled over the sloping deck of the submarine his beard and hair slipped away, and there before them lay Berghoff, seemingly dead or dying.
As soon as they had recovered from their amazement, he was carried below and made as comfortable as possible; for it was found that he was shockingly burned. The chart was consulted, and it was reckoned that Bellport was the closest place at which to land. And so it came about, that Berghoff—or the wreck of the man—was brought back to the very spot from which he and his ill-fated companion had set out on their diabolical trip.
Under close police guard the injured man was carried to the local hospital, and with his first conscious breath he cried aloud for Karloff. He was told of the man's fate, and then made a full confession of the plot to blow up the submarine. As for the accident that had destroyed their own craft, he explained that Karloff, stooping to light a cigarette, had ignited some leaked gasoline in the bilge. In a flash the flames had reached the fuel tank, and an explosion that ripped the boat apart followed.
For days the man lingered in the hospital, apparently contrite and suffering great pain. But one night a drowsy nurse and an open window aided him in a plan of escape that must have formed itself in his mind some time before. In a weak voice he begged his police guard to get him a drink of water. When the man came back, Berghoff had gone. Nor was he ever heard of again. Whether he managed in some way to communicate with his friends, or whether he gained financial resources to aid his escape by robbery or other means, will never be known.
"Wa'al, I'm glad I stuck to that thousand," said Lem Higgins, when he heard of the escape. "I'll git another boat now."
* * * * * * *
And so ends the tale of the Boy Scouts' services for Uncle Sam. Of course, they remained on the island till the conclusion of the tests. But they were molested no more, and so far as they were concerned Berghoff and his evil designs ceased to exist. Their experiences had proved of much value to them, and broadened and developed their characters to a marked extent.
We shall meet our friends and fellow Scouts again in a succeeding volume of this series, for strong, healthy lads like these cannot seem to help meeting with adventures. When they face them in the true Scout spirit, that of bravery mixed with brains, it is a combination hard to beat. This new volume will be called "The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal," and will relate their experiences at the "Big Ditch," that remarkable engineering achievement that is holding the interest and attention of the entire world. The book will contain authentic photographs of the canal in process of construction and include accurate descriptions of the engineering feats.
THE END.
Transcriber's Note: Clicking on the images of the books will provide the reader with a larger version of the images.