Matt King, concerning whom there has always been a mystery—a lad of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of "Mile-a-minute Matt."
Carl Pretzel, a cheerful and rollicking German lad, who is led by a fortunate accident to hook up with Motor Matt in double harness.
Dick Ferral, a Canadian boy who has served his time in the King's navy, and bobs up in the States where he falls into plots and counterplots, and comes near losing his life.
Archibald Townsend, otherwise "Captain Nemo, Jr.," of the submarine boat Grampus, who proves himself a firm friend of Motor Matt.
Lattimer Jurgens, an unscrupulous person who, for some time, has been at daggers drawn with Archibald Townsend.
Whistler, an able lieutenant of Lat Jurgens.
Cassidy, Burke and Harris, comprising the crew of the Grampus.
"The Man from Cape Town," who does not appear in the story but whose influence is nevertheless made manifest.
McMillan and Holcomb, police officers.
[CHAPTER I.]
CARL AS BUTTINSKY.
"Py shinks, aber dot's funny! Dose fellers look like dey vas birates, or some odder scalawags. Vat vas dey doing, anyvays, in a blace like dis?"
It was on the beach at Atlantic City, New Jersey. Carl Pretzel was there, in a bathing suit.
Those who know the Dutch boy will remember that he was fat, and there is always something humorous about a fat person in a bathing suit.
Carl had been in the water. After swimming out as far as the end of the steel pier, he had returned and climbed up on the beach. An Italian happened to be passing with a pushcart loaded with "red-hots" and buns. Carl had a dime pinned in the breast of his abbreviated costume. He unpinned the dime, bought two "red-hots" and a bun, and fell down in the sand to rest and enjoy himself. The Italian lingered near him, staring with bulging eyes to a place on the beach a little way beyond Carl. The Dutch boy, observing the trend of the Italian's curiosity, looked in the same direction.
A girl was kneeling on the beach, tossing her arms despairingly. She was a pretty girl, her clothes were torn and wet, and her long, dark hair was streaming about her shoulders.
Certainly it was a curious sight, there in that densely populated summer resort, to see a young woman acting in that manner. Up on the board walk above the beach a gaping throng had gathered. A little way from the board walk a man seemed to be doing something with a photograph instrument.