Not a soul was in sight. The moonlit stretch of beach was empty except for them.
“What in the world can those be?” asked Captain Folsom.
“They are made of metal,” said Jack. “See how the moonlight gleams upon them. By George, Captain, they are big as whales. Can they be some type of torpedo-shaped boat controlled by radio?” 98
“This is luck,” exclaimed Captain Folsom. “That’s just what they are. Probably, those two scoundrels were coming down here to see whether they had arrived, coming down here from their radio station. Come on, let’s have a look.”
He started forward eagerly. Jack was a step behind him. An inarticulate cry from Tom Barnum smote Jack’s ears, and he spun about. The next instant he saw a man almost upon him, swinging for his head with a club. He tried to dodge, to avoid the blow, but the club clipped him on the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. His senses reeled, and he struggled desperately to rise, but to no avail. A confused sound of shouts and cries and struggling filled his ears, then it seemed as if a wave engulfed him, and he lost consciousness.
When he recovered his senses, Jack found himself lying in darkness. He tried to move, but discovered his hands and feet were tied. He lay quiet, listening. A faint moan came to his ears.
“Who’s that?” he whispered.
“That you, Jack?” came Frank’s voice in reply, filled with anxiety.
It was close at hand.
“Yes. Where’s Bob?”