"Will you take me to jail in Punta Arenas?" asked Matt.
"No, not to the jail. The house of the harbor master will do. You will be kept there until the convict, Garcia's, story is looked into."
"How long will that take?"
"A week, two weeks—I do not know how long."
"I shall not stay in Punta Arenas more than a day, at most!" declared Matt. "The submarine must be taken into the Pacific and up the coast without delay."
"We shall see," said Captain Sandoval, pulling at his mustache and shrugging his shoulders.
"We shall see," repeated Matt, "if the American consul, when appealed to by the naval officer aboard the Grampus, has any power to undo this outrage."
The captain waved his hand to the marines and gave them an order. The guards stepped to Matt's side, motioned for him to stand up, and led him off to a small room opening upon the same passage that led to the captain's quarters. Here Matt was locked in, and presently he heard muffled orders, a jingling of bells, and the Salvadore began putting about for the run back to Sandy Point.