“Going after them,” announced Ned grimly, and without an instant’s hesitation.
It was necessary to use the utmost stealth in nearing the shed. For all that the Dreadnought Boys knew, the two rascals might be hiding inside ready to shoot them down as soon as they appeared. But, after waiting a while, they were rewarded by hearing the ring of the intruders’ feet as they traversed the steel-plated deck.
“They’ve climbed the ladder, then,” breathed Ned tremulously. The next instant a clanging sound announced that they had opened the manhole in the conning tower. As the sound was not repeated, the boys judged that they must have left it open. This made their task all the easier.
With their nerves at the keenest tension, the lads crept forward. Presently the dark shadows of the shed swallowed them. Creeping along like two prowling cats, they reached the midship section against which the ladder was propped.
Without another word Ned set his foot on the lowest round and mounted rapidly upward. Following him came Herc, his every sense a-tingle for what might lie ahead of them.
Having reached the deck, double caution became necessary, for fear that the ring of their feet on the metal might attract the attention of the marauders working inside the big cigar-shaped diving boat. Creeping on hands and knees, the better to dull all sound, they neared the conning tower. Still without a sound, Ned raised himself, and peering over, saw that the chamber below—which was now fitted with leather-backed divans and seats and partitioned staterooms, was empty. The mischief-makers must then be in the fore part of the little vessel, in the torpedo room, already the scene of one of Gradbarr’s dastardly attempts.
Beckoning to Herc, Ned swung himself down into the conning tower and swiftly dropped down, round by round, on the steel ladder. And now he had a view of the night’s work the two dastards had contrived. The light of their lantern shone brightly out from the fore-chamber and cast a soft glow out in the cabin.
Peering through the bulkhead door, which Anderson’s key had unlocked, the boys could see the precious pair bending over one of the intake pipes. Suddenly the rasping note of a file sounded out in the silence.
“Your boat will sink and you with it, Lockyer, when I get through to-night’s work,” the lads could hear Anderson grate out, as his tool began to bite into the metal. It was at this moment that Ned recollected, with a sinking of the heart, that neither Herc nor himself was armed. The men attempting the ruin of Lockyer’s boat were undoubtedly well supplied with firearms in case of being surprised in their desperate game. How then were our lads to circumvent the rascals and check their ruinous work?
As Ned cudgelled his brains desperately—for every minute counted while that file was at work—the hulking form of Gradbarr swung across the floor of the lamp-lit chamber, and peered out into the darkness of the cabin.