Then, with the instinct born of necessity, he groped his way to the wheel and as he set the Golden Eagle II on a rising course he realized that she was responding and they were saved.
Ten minutes later they emerged into the blessed air that, though still smoke-filled, above the fire-swept flats was still breathable. With blackened face and singed hair and eyebrows, Frank felt the difference, although his eyes were still closed and giving him agony. He inhaled it in great breaths of delight, saturating his lungs in its comparative freshness. Finally, when he could open his eyes, he looked back for the others.
They lay on the floor senseless, smoke-blackened, without motion.
But the Golden Eagle II under Frank’s guidance had passed the ordeal of flame and as she skimmed through the cooler air the unconscious members of the party, one by one recovered and grasped the hand of the boy who had saved them.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE BLACK AEROPLANE.
The Tarantula, black, grim and business-like, lay at anchor off the mouth of the Jew-Fish River, her long, lean form rising and falling on the heavy swells and a curl of black smoke lazily issuing from each of her four black funnels, the foremost one of which was striped with four yellow bands.
Forward her crew lay about and loafed or fished, while aft Lieutenant Selby and the ensigns assigned to the command with him, paced the deck, looking from time to time into the wireless room to ascertain if any news had been heard from the boys. The answer each time was in the negative and hourly the naval officer’s apprehension grew. What could be the matter? If everything had gone well he should certainly have heard from them by now.
Of the submarine, also, nothing had been seen and this fact encouraged the young officer to believe that she was still up the river somewhere. A bright lookout had been kept day and night since Frank’s wireless announcing the discovery of Captain Bellman’s destination, but nothing had been seen of the expected craft. That she had utilized her diving apparatus and passed unnoticed in that way was unlikely as the water in which the Tarantula lay, was shoal even for her and the soundings that the lieutenant had made the day before showed that it would have been impossible for the submarine to have passed out in any other way but the main channel. So with steam up the Tarantula swung at her anchor and waited like a patient cat, watching an opportunity to pounce on a mouse. The idea of entering the river in boats and scouting for the submarine had entered the lieutenant’s head, but after consideration he had abandoned it. To reveal his presence to Bellman might spoil everything and as it was if the submarine was in the river, she was securely bottled up.
The hours slowly passed on and still no word came. Evening set in and the wireless was still silent.
“If those young rascals haven’t shown up by tomorrow morning, Bagsby, I shall be sorely tempted to head an expedition myself and go in search of them,” declared Selby—on whom the strain of the long wait was wearing—to one of his ensigns.