Jules pointed and in a low whisper muttered “devil boat!” Hemmed in by the labyrinth of mangroves and winding channels, and apparently completely surrounded by the swamps, was a large lagoon and towards the side nearest them a large dark object loomed above the placid water.
All this they took in at a single glance. Before them, there upon this hidden lagoon within the fastnesses of the mangrove swamps, was the long-sought submarine.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Rawlins under his breath. “Blamed if the darned sub isn’t sunk!”
“Sunk?” repeated Mr. Pauling inquiringly. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you see?” muttered the diver. “She’s wrecked, sunk, on the bottom. Look how she’s keeled over. Must be full of water! Look at that smashed conning tower; the hatch is open and the water’s half over it. Say, I’ll bet that shot of mine bumped ’em more than I thought. Must have ripped things loose. How the dickens they got in’s a puzzle to me. Must have had emergency hatches or bulkheads or something. Whatever ’twas the old sub’s done for now. Say, they’re trapped! They can’t get away! I’ll say that’s luck! By glory, we’ve got ’em right by the neck!”
“You’re right,” affirmed Mr. Pauling, after carefully scrutinizing the submarine. “She’s evidently deserted and useless. Yes, they’re certainly trapped—that is, unless they clear out overland. As soon as we locate them we can summon Disbrow and make the raid. They certainly cannot escape by water.”
Elated at the thought that luck was with them, that the “reds” were marooned, and that within a short time they would be on their way home with their prisoners, the party followed Jules down the hill to the boats.
“Now for the big secret!” remarked Rawlins as they embarked. “If old Uncle Tom here’s got the right dope we’ll be there in time to look in on ’em at breakfast. Hope they’ll be at home.”
Jules grinned, chuckled, and significantly patted his keen-edged machete. Only now and then could he grasp the meaning of an English word, but he knew, with the African’s primitive instinct, what the diver was talking about. He had proved the accuracy of his statements by showing them the “devil boat” and he rejoiced to think that he would soon see the murderers of his friends led away as captives to meet their just punishment.
“You bet!” nodded Rawlins as he noted Jules’ gesture, “I’ll say you’d like to use that pig-sticker, old boy; but hold your horses. Don’t go losing your head and rushing in where angels fear to tread and spilling the beans before they’re ready to serve. Just make him savvy that, Sam!”