“They’re attended to,” announced Commander Disbrow, as he reentered the room. “Every mother’s son of them is safe in double irons.”
“Bully for you!” cried Rawlins. “Now let’s put our heads together and see how we’ll nab the rest of the bunch.”
“There we’re up against it,” declared Mr. Pauling. “If we could make any of the prisoners confess, we might find out their plans, although I doubt if they know them. And we haven’t the least idea as to where the submarine is. I think it’s about hopeless.”
“I’ll be shot if ’tis,” declared the diver. “That fake British rascal was going to get off with a whole skin with his gang somewhere. You can bet he wouldn’t risk his dirty neck when we went on the rocks. All we’ve got to do is pretend to fall in with their plans, keep on for Trinidad, and watch developments. There was some plan to get this bunch off before we got there and we’re boobs if we can’t get on to it.”
“Yes, no doubt you’re right,” agreed Mr. Pauling. “But still I’m doubtful of success. The criminal always has the advantage in a case of this sort for he knows his own plans and makes them while knowing more or less of his pursuers’ plans and movements, whereas the authorities know nothing of his and must go largely by guess work. Possibly the boys might send some message--asking for further orders or pretending the exact plans had not gone through--and so get information.”
“No, that would give us away at once,” declared Rawlins. “They knew the radio instruments were all disabled and that Robinson, or whatever his real name was, intended to fix the boys’ set as soon as he was through talking, and now if we start butting in on radio again, they’ll shy off.”
“But what did he mean about fixing the gear and the Bocas?” asked Tom.
“The Bocas are the narrow channels leading into the Gulf of Paria from the Caribbean,” explained the Commander. “The tide runs swiftly and there are dangerous rocky shores on either side. If a ship’s steering gear or engines go wrong there, she’ll pile on the rocks in a moment. I expect the rascals planned to monkey with the steering gear--though how I can’t imagine. I’ve a gang of machinists and engineers going over every part of the ship now. No knowing but they may have done something already.”
“And to think we pitied them and thought them shipwrecked sailors!” exclaimed Frank.
“Yes, and I was fool enough to give away some of our plans,” lamented Mr. Pauling. “No doubt that confounded faker told them all to his friends on the sub.”