“Whose craft is that?” he queried. “It’s not a Navy boat!”
“It’s Mr. Splendor’s private plane, sir,” answered the boatswain. “A young fellow called Panama is piloting him. They spotted you at first crack of dawn and led us in to this cove.”
“That sounds like Michael Splendor!” exclaimed Mercedes Colby. “He’s always one jump ahead of everyone else in the Naval Intelligence. Except Don, of course. The man is a wonder....”
She broke off in alarm, as the drone of an approaching airplane grew on the morning air.
“There’s another plane!” she cried, clutching at Commander Winslow’s arm. “Don, do you think it could be a Scorpion scout, coming back to investigate?”
“It could be!” the young officer decided swiftly. “In any case, this changes our plans. Boatswain! Shove off at once in the launch with Miss Colby. Get her safely aboard the gunboat and then come back. Lieutenant Pennington and I will evacuate the other men from the underground base. Hurry, Red!”
He turned and raced up the beach, followed by the stocky junior officer. Two minutes later he paused at the rim of a huge steel cylinder whose bulk appeared to be sunk deep in the earth. Thick jungle growth had sprawled across the great tank’s top, hiding it completely from the beach.
One hand on the hatchway leading to the cylinder’s interior, Don Winslow waited for his friend to catch up.
“What in thunder’s all the hurry, Don?” the red-headed lieutenant gasped, stumbling through the underbrush. “Even if that is a Scorpion plane up there, it wouldn’t dare attack the gunboat!”
“Maybe not,” replied Don Winslow, jerking open the hatch. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried dropping a bomb on this secret base, now that we’ve captured it. There’s a lot of priceless equipment here—new gadgets of the Scorpion’s own invention. He’d rather destroy that stuff than let us take it away. That’s why I want to get every man out of here before it’s too late!”