DICK ON HIS METTLE.
It was dark when the submarine arrived off the town, and those aboard her could not have taken in the city's appearance even if their curiosity had prompted them. All the way in from the point where they had met the war ship those on the Grampus had been holding a council of war.
Why had Matt been arrested? Why was he being taken to Punta Arenas? What was to be done with him there? How long would the Grampus be delayed? Would the Japanese steamer have time to round the Horn and reach the other end of the strait before the submarine pushed her nose into the Pacific?
These were some of the questions canvassed by those aboard the Grampus. No one was very much worried over Matt's safety, for they all felt that the Chilian authorities would not dare go to any desperate length with him. The worst that could happen would be the delay to the Grampus—but that was likely to be grievous enough if the Jap steamer was in a position to take advantage of it.
"I shall go ashore," declared Glennie, "just as soon as the Grampus reaches the town, and lay the matter before the American consul."
"The British consul's my man," declared Dick.
"Our boat sails under the American flag," said Glennie, "and the logical man for us is the American consul."
"The British consul cuts more ice," affirmed Dick, "and I shall go to him."
"Vere iss it for me to go?" piped up Carl. "I vant to do somet'ing for my bard, Modor Matt."
"You, and all the rest of the submarine's crew," said Dick, "will stay on board and watch the boat. If any one tries to come aboard, close the hatch and sink to the bottom. I guess they won't go after you in diving suits."