“I am Captain Nemo, junior, of the submarine Grampus. My unfortunate illness puts me out of the work that lies ahead of the boat and her crew, but Bob Steele, there, is perfectly capable of discharging the duties of master. I should feel quite sure of the outcome if it was not for the mate. He has deserted, and I am positive he intends to make trouble. You must get away as soon as possible, Bob. Cassidy went the other way from the Rio Dolce—which is a move I can’t understand, if he is planning to interfere with the rescue of Coleman.”
Bob and Jordan exchanged quick looks. The captain, having no information to the contrary, was still under the impression conveyed by the sealed orders, viz.: that the captured consul was on the Rio Dolce instead of the River Izaral. Neither Bob nor Jordan attempted to set the captain straight.
Evidently the captain had talked more than was good for him, for when he finished he collapsed, and had hardly strength enough to say good-by. As he was driven off, Bob gazed after him sympathetically.
“Strange that a few hours should make such a difference in Captain Nemo, junior,” he murmured.
“The climatic change perhaps had something to do with it, Bob,” suggested Jordan. “But we can’t stand around here, my lad. We’ve got to hustle—and this isn’t a very good climate to hustle in, either. It’s the land of take-it-easy. You get the submarine in shape, and I’ll hunt up the pilot, get together the war plunder and my own traps, and join you just as quick as the nation will let me. On the jump, my lad, on the jump.”
Jordan, suddenly energetic, turned and hastened back into the consulate.
“There’s a whole lot to that land lubber,” remarked Dick. “He’s as full of snap and get-there as any chap I ever saw. But what’s the first move? You’re the skipper, now, and it’s up to you to lay the course.”
“We’ve plenty of stores aboard for the trip we’re to make, with the exception of gasoline. The Grampus will be in strange waters on a secret mission, and we must make sure of an abundant supply of fuel at the start-off.”
The boys were not long in finding a place where they could secure the gasoline, and but little longer in getting a negro carter to convey the barrel to the landing. Here the same colored boatman who had brought Bob and Dick ashore was waiting, and the barrel was loaded and carried out to the submarine.
The sailboat hove to as close alongside the Grampus as she could get, and both vessels were made fast to each other by ropes. The gasoline barrel was tapped, a hose run out from the conning-tower hatch, and the negroes laid hold of a pump and emptied the barrel into the gasoline reservoir of the submarine.