“Why, people live there!” cried Tom. “Say, we can’t meet Mr. Rawlins there.”
“Those are Rawlins’ buildings,” replied his father smiling at Tom’s distressed expression. “Didn’t I tell you? This is where he takes his undersea pictures—his studio and workshop, you know—but at this season it’s deserted. We’re perfectly safe there.”
A few minutes later the launch slipped through a narrow channel between outjutting ledges of jagged, gray coral rock and entered a beautiful little harbor or cove. On one side was a low point, covered with coconut palms, and on the other a white sand-beach with a small dock and with a large wooden building,—red roofed and with green shutters—just beyond.
“Well we’re here first,” exclaimed Tom as the launch forged slowly towards the dock. “There’s no sign of the submarine.”
“No, but some one’s here!” cried Frank.
As he spoke a figure appeared upon the dock holding glasses to his eyes and the next moment the boys recognized it.
“Gosh! It’s Mr. Rawlins!” shouted Tom. “But where is the submarine?”
A moment later the launch grated alongside the pier and Rawlins with a grin welcomed them.
“But—but, where’s the submarine?” demanded Tom before Rawlins could speak.
“Safe and sound!” he replied. “Welcome to my kingdom!”