Then Tom told his father of the mysterious messages and what had come of their attempts to locate the sender.
Mr. Pauling laughed heartily. “Well, if you got old Henderson interested he must have believed there was something in it. I don’t know but what there was. I’ll talk it over with him. But I can imagine your disappointment, and his too—when nothing came of it. No, Son, I can’t offer any explanation and we’re as much in the dark as ever about the smugglers. By the way, I met a chap down at Nassau that was just about as keen on experiments as you boys only he’s not a radio fan.
No, he’s a diver. He’s invented a new type of diving suit—self-contained he calls it. Just a sort of rubber cloth shirt and a khaki-colored helmet and lead-soled shoes. He goes down without ropes or life lines or air hose. Gets his air from a little box or receptacle strapped to his body. I don’t know what is in it, but it’s some chemical which produces oxygen and he can walk about where he pleases on the bottom. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen to watch him wade out into the water and disappear and then, half an hour or two hours later, have him bob up somewhere else.”
“Gosh, I’d love to see that,” declared Tom. “Suppose he wants to come up from deep water without walking ashore, how does he manage?”
“He just produces more oxygen so he floats up,” replied Mr. Pauling. “And you’ll have a chance to talk with him next week. He’s returning to New York and I’ve asked him to call and see us. Nice young chap, name’s Rawlins. The only trouble with his outfit is that he can’t communicate with others ashore or on the boats. Of course he can take down a line or even a telephone, but then he at once destroys one of the great advantages
of his invention. A trailing line or wire is as liable to be caught or tangled in a wreck or in coral as an air pipe or any other rope or line and it means some one must be stationed in a boat over him. He claims one big advantage of his suit will be the fact that as no boat or air pump is needed, no one can tell where he is. That would be a fine thing in time of war, of course. Think you’ll take a great fancy to him, Tom.”
For a moment, Tom was silent and then he suddenly let out a yell like an Indian.
“I have it!” he fairly screamed. “Radio! Submarine radio! I’ll bet it’ll work.”
Then, filled with enthusiasm, he started to explain his ideas to his father.
“All right! All right!” cried Mr. Pauling, laughing and holding up his hands in protestation. “I’ll take your word for the technical end of it. Wait and tell Rawlins about it. But honestly I don’t know but what there may be something in it. You and Rawlins can work it out.”