But there were no more accidents and a few seconds later the boys and the dripping Ben were wringing hands and slapping backs till the tears came to the rugged old adventurer’s eyes.
“Keelhaul me if I ain’t glad to see you,” shouted Ben, “and the lootinant, too. I knowed they’d git yer ef they set out to,” roared Ben, “and by the great horn-spoon, they have.”
While this was going on the two other occupants of the boat—who were none other than Quatty and Pork Chops—had clambered on deck and stood shyly by. They, too, came in for their share of greetings and congratulations.
Then Ben, of course, had to relate his adventures with the Seminoles, winding up with the account of how he came to leave the Indian village.
It seemed that a wandering party of Seminoles had come across Quatty, wearily paddling toward the coast from the mound-builders’ island, and as he was almost exhausted had taken him in their canoes and poled him at top speed to the island. Arrived there Quatty was roused to great indignation, as well as surprise when he discovered that Ben was a captive and demanded his immediate release. By virtue of Quatty’s power over the tribesmen, Ben had immediately been set free and he and Quatty canoed to Camp Walrus. Here they found Pork Chops, half crazy from fright and as he would not hear of being left alone any longer they agreed to take him with them to the Tarantula, whither Ben had decided to go as soon as he found the camp deserted. The rest the boys knew.
The relation of Ben’s narrative, and of course that of the boys which had to be retold to the newcomer, consumed so much time that they were all startled when eight bells (midnight) rang out.
The echo had hardly died away when a black form was seen rushing through the water from the mouth of the river.
It was sighted simultaneously by almost all on deck and recognized at once for what it was.
Captain Bellman’s submarine!