CHAPTER I
PUNISHING A SNEAK
"A million at the bottom of the sea, father?"
"That is what I said, Dave."
"It is a fortune!"
"There may be more than that. But I am sure of the million."
"And it would belong to us if we found it?"
"Yes, every cent of it."
"But you say the Hankers lay claim to the fortune," went on Dave Fearless, a handsome lad of seventeen, the only son of Amos Fearless, ex-sea captain and marine architect.
"Yes, Lemuel Hankers always did claim the Washington fortune. His mother, you know, was a Washington."
"But so was your father."
"Exactly; and the money was left to our branch of the family, no matter what the Hankers may say to the contrary."
"And it was shipped from China to San Francisco in the steamship Happy Hour."
"Yes, but the Happy Hour belied her name, for she went down in the middle of the Pacific with all on board."
"And the exact location of this wreck?"
"Was not known up to six months ago. Then the Albatross, making some deep-sea fishing for the government, came upon some wreckage which proved conclusively that the Happy Hour had gone down in the exact spot which I have marked on the chart here."
"Do the Hankers know of this locality?"
"I think not. They were in Europe on a pleasure tour when the report came in, and it is very likely that it escaped their notice."
"You must be right, for they are very rich, and if they thought they could add to their fortunes they would fit out an expedition at once and go in search of the sunken treasure."
"Right you are, Dave. But they would have their hands full finding it, for you must remember, the Pacific Ocean at this point is nearly two miles deep."
"Two miles!" Dave Fearless' face fell. "Then we'll never see a single piece of that gold."
"I have been thinking of the matter for several weeks, and I think I have solved the problem of how to get to the wreck, if I can work the plan I have in mind," replied Mr. Fearless, as he began to pace the floor of the modest dining room thoughtfully.
"And what is your plan, father?"
"It is this: Two weeks from to-day our government is going to send another ship to the Pacific, the Swallow, under the command of Captain Paul Broadbeam."
"What, dear old Captain Broadbeam, whom we used to know at Nantucket Light?"
"The same, Dave. He will be in full charge of the expedition, which is to sound the depths of the Pacific, locate any new islands which may be brought to light, and drag the bottom of the ocean for strange fish or marine animals, for the Fish Commission. For this purpose the expedition will take along one of the new Costell diving bells."
"You mean one of those glass cages which they can lower to the bottom of the ocean and then walk around on big steel legs, like an artificial crab?"
"Exactly. They say they work perfectly, and if that is so, we ought to be able to get to the wreck of the Happy Hour and explore it without difficulty."
"We? Shall we go along with Captain Broadbeam?"
"If my application as master diver is accepted," and Amos Fearless smiled faintly.
"Then you've applied for such a position?"
"Yes. I did it as soon as I heard Broadbeam was in charge. I know he will do what he can for me."
"And what of me, father?"
"If I go, you shall go as assistant."
"Hurrah! Then the sunken treasure is as good as ours!"
"Don't be too sure, Dave. Even if we are successful, there is plenty of work cut out for us before we lay our hands on that million dollars, or any part of it. We must—what's that?"
Mr. Amos Fearless broke off short and ran to the window of the cottage in which he and his son lived. "A fellow running down to the beach! He was at the window listening!"
"It's Bart Hankers!" burst from Dave's lips. "Bart Hankers, of all people! He must have heard all we said."
"That's too bad!" Amos Fearless gave a deep sigh. "I wanted to keep this a secret."
"The miserable sneak!" went on Dave, indignantly. "I'm going after him and see what he means by such conduct."
And before his father could stop him, the lad was out of the cottage and running toward the beach at his best speed.
As said before, Dave Fearless was a youth of seventeen, tall, well-built, and handsome. He had been brought up along the coast of Long Island Sound, and had spent two years of his life in a lighthouse not far distant from his present residence in the village of Quanatack.
Following in the footsteps of his father, Dave had taken to the water naturally, and no boy on Long Island could swim better, row better, or handle a sailboat more skillfully than he. In addition to this, Dave had often been with his father when the latter was working at his trade as a master diver, and he knew more about the work of a diver than did many men who followed it for a living.
Father and son lived together by themselves, Mrs. Fearless having died several years before. Mr. Fearless had once been fairly well-to-do, but a fire, and the wild speculations of a brother, now dead also, had robbed him of all of his savings and left him with nothing but his hands to depend upon for a living.
The village in which the Fearlesses lived was not a large one, but it contained some people who were very friendly to the master diver and his son, and also contained some who were just the opposite.
Among the latter were Lemuel Hankers and his eighteen-year-old son Bart. The Hankers were distantly related to the Fearlesses, but as the latter were poor, the relationship was never acknowledged by the former. Indeed, Bart Hankers took particular pains to snub Dave Fearless upon every possible occasion.
Some of the snubbings flashed over Dave's mind as he sped after Bart Hankers, who was running to where he had left a small boat tied up at one of the village docks.
"I'll show him that he is not to play the sneak on us, even if he does snub me," muttered Dave, as he reached the dock, to find Bart just entering the rowboat.
In a minute he was at the stringpiece of the dock.
"Hi, Bart Hankers, I want to talk to you!" he called out.
"What do you want of me, Dave Fearless?" returned the rich youth, sullenly.
"I want to know what you mean by playing sneak around our house."
"Around your house? I haven't been near your house."
"Yes, you have. You just came from there."
"It's untrue. I have been up to Radley's store all the morning."
"I saw you and so did my father. You're a nice sneak, you are, I must declare. If I were you I'd be ashamed of myself."
"See here, if you call me a sneak, I'll punch your head for you, Dave Fearless!" howled Bart, angrily.
"Well, you are a sneak, so there!"
"So you want your head punched, do you?"
"If I do, you're not able to do the job."
"Won't I? I'll show you." And Bart leaped from the rowboat back to the dock.
"You were up under our window listening to the talk between my father and me."
"It isn't so!"
"It's the truth."
"You say another word and I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!" howled Bart, working himself up into a magnificent rage.
"I am not afraid of you," answered Dave, calmly. The fact that Bart was two inches taller than himself and weighed at least fifteen pounds more did not daunt him.
"Will you take back what you said?"
"Instead of taking it back, I repeat what I said—you are a mean sneak, and I want everybody in this village to know it," answered Dave, in a loud voice.
Several boys and a man were fishing near at hand, and now they drew closer to learn what was the cause of the trouble.
The man, who did some work for Mr. Hankers, sided with Bart, but the boys all favored Dave.
"Pitch into him, Dave," piped in one of the smaller lads. "He puts on too many airs, he does!"
"Don't you dare to touch Mr. Hankers," put in the man.
"I will do as I see fit, Hank Shores," retorted Dave. "Don't you interfere here."
"Never mind him, Shores," said Bart, with a sneer. "I can handle him well enough alone, and I'll give him all he wants, too."
"A fight! a fight!" exclaimed several of the boys, and soon a fair-sized crowd collected on the dock, for, in a village, a fight is a great event, to be talked over for many a day afterward.
"What's the trouble?" asked several.
"Dave Fearless and Bart Hankers are going to have it out."
"What started it?"
"Dave says Bart is nothing but a miserable sneak."
"You have got to take back what you said," blustered Bart, squaring off.
"I'll take back nothing," retorted Dave.
He had scarcely spoken when the rich youth struck out and landed lightly on his shoulder.
As quick as lightning Dave returned the blow, landing on Bart's nose with just sufficient force to draw blood.
"Ouow!" howled the rich youth, and staggered back.
"First blood for Dave Fearless!"
"Give him another like that, Dave!"
In a worse rage than ever Bart rushed at Dave again and this time caught him on the chin, and nearly knocked him down.
"There's one for Bart Hankers!"
"He'll down Dave Fearless yet!"
As quickly as he could Dave recovered and rushed at his opponent.
Blows now flew thick and fast, and Dave was hit on the shoulder, on the chest, and on the cheek.
But he returned every blow with interest, and Bart received a crack in the eye which made him see a thousand stars, and then another in the mouth, which loosened two of his teeth.
"Oh!" he groaned, and staggered toward the end of the dock.
"Have you had enough?" demanded Dave.
"No."
Hardly had Bart answered when Dave squared off again. Bart struck out feebly and Dave warded off the blow with ease.
Then Dave's left fist shot out, fairly and squarely, and the rich youth received a blow under the chin which lifted him off his feet and sent him backward with a loud splash into the waters of Long Island Sound.