“Certainly,” said the officer. “We have three hundred feet of hose. Somewhere on the side of their sub, if it’s anything like ours, is a short piece of pipe with a thread on it, to which our hose could be attached. After that—when they have opened an inner valve—we can pump in enough air to float them. But without a diver—”
“I,” said the professor, “am a diver. Have you the equipment?”
“You?” The young officer looked at the aged professor admiringly, but without making a reply. All eyes were focused on the dignified old man.
It was Dave who best understood the situation.
He knew the professor had made many a trip to the bottom of the sea in a diving outfit, but that had been years before. Now he was a frail, old man. “The pressure at two hundred feet is terrific,” the boy thought. “And his doctor has warned him—even about going down in the ball! He must not go.”
Still Dave remained silent. He was thinking hard—thinking how even in life’s twilight this splendid old man displayed a glorious courage.
“I must go down.” It was the professor’s voice. “It is my duty. Those are young people with life before them. They must not be allowed to perish.”
Still the young officer did not speak.
“All right, Professor,” Dave said huskily. “But first—give me an hour! I will try something. If I fail—then your turn comes!”
Slowly the professor grasped Dave’s hand.
In a few precise words, Dave outlined his plans. Then he leaped toward the steel ball. With all possible speed he was bolted in, lifted over the rail, and lowered slowly into the ominous, black waters.
Never before had he been down at night. The spectacle that met his eyes as he sank, was surprising almost beyond belief. The whole sub-sea world seemed on fire. It was like being out in a moonless night, surrounded by billions of fireflies.
As his eyes became accustomed to the bizarre scene he was able to distinguish individual specimens from among the myriads of luminous creatures that crowded the waters. Here, like excursion boats all aglow, a score of jellyfish floated past. There, a throng of shrimp stood out in dark outline against the background light, suddenly darting frantically away as some great fish with bright spots along his sides gave chase. Casting off balls of illumination, the shrimp were lost to sight in a flare of light.
But there was little time for such thoughts, as this underseas mission concerned the lives of nine young people. A sudden storm would spell their doom....
Dave had asked for an hour, and he must save the professor from taking so great a risk, if possible. No less experienced person—not even Dave—could safely descend to such depth in a diving suit....
Suddenly he saw the light from the sub’s porthole, just before him.
“Steady!” he said into the mike. “Doris—tell them to stop lowering, and swing me to the right about twelve feet.”
Instantly they obeyed his orders and for a time, he studied the sub. Then he saw what he had sought—the threaded end of pipe for letting in the air. Once again he had his position changed. Now he was close to the bit of threaded pipe. But the dangling air hose from the sub on the surface, still was several feet away. More orders.... More moments.... and every second counted.... At last the steel ball rested on bottom. The sub was six feet distant, and now the hose dangled directly before his window.
What Dave hoped to do was to seize the screwcap at the end of the hose with the pincherlike affairs attached to the outside of the steel ball. Then, by twisting his pinchers round and round, he would try to attach the hose to the sunken submarine.
Could he do it? His heart sank as the force of a wave far above, drew the steel ball off the bottom for a moment.
“I—I’ve got to do it! I’ve got to,” he muttered.
Once again his hand was on the lever. It rose, slowly, as the hose before him swayed.
“Back a foot,” he called to Doris.
Back he slid. “Now,” he breathed. There was the hose and screwcap, and there were his pinchers. Swiftly, skillfully, he manipulated the lever, and, by a fortunate providence, caught the cap just as he should.
“Now,” he breathed.
But again there came that sickening lift and swing—and one crash of his window against the sub, would spell his doom.
Now he was on bottom again. A move—a second move—then a third—and he was back in position. Now—
“No,” he breathed, desperately, “not this time.”
For again came that sickening lift.
* * * * * * * *
In the meantime a coastguard cutter had anchored close to the Sea Nymph and an officer came aboard.
“I am Major Braden, of the Marines,” he said, bowing to Doris, Johnny and the professor. “I’m on extraordinary duty just now—watching these waters. I used to be in command when we occupied these islands for military purposes, and I understand you’ve located a foreign submarine.”
“And six spies, now held captive on land,” Johnny added. “We took enough maps and reports from their hangout, to start a secret service all our own!”
“Good! Great! A real service to your country, young man!”
“But the sub’s still on bottom,” Johnny added, “and we’re trying to raise her now. They—they’ve got one of our good friends on board!”
“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” exclaimed the Major. “And when that sub breaks water—we’ll have three, six-inch guns trained on her. She’ll not escape,” he concluded a little grimly.
* * * * * * * *
For a full quarter-hour, Dave struggled in vain to bring the threaded pipe on the sub, and the screw-cap at the end of the hose, into exact position. At one time he actually turned the cap, and felt it catch. But it would not turn further.
“Started wrong,” he murmured. “Threads are crossed. Must take it off at once.”
Ten seconds of struggle and he was back where he had started. His heart sank. Should he give up? He closed his eyes to think—and saw the professor’s frail, kindly face before him.
“No!” he groaned. “I won’t give up!”
Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered himself into position. The lever rose slowly, and glided forward. He gave it a turn. It stuck. Deftly he twirled his lever; ’round and ’round it spun.
“Now!” he breathed. He gave the lever an experimental tug. The cap held firm.
“Try it!” he fairly shouted into his mike.
Ten seconds later, the hose hanging loosely before his window, twisted and writhed like a snake. It was filling with air. He watched the spot where it joined the pipe on the sub. Should bubbles appear, all his work was lost. Ten seconds, he watched. No bubbles. Twenty—thirty—forty seconds. Still no bubbles.
“Hooray!” he shouted hoarsely. “Hooray! We win!”
And from the sunken sub came an answer:
“It is good! We are getting air!”
After having his steel ball moved to a safe distance, Dave settled down to watch. Had they won? Would the sub really rise?
Fifteen long, tense, minutes passed. Then, like a giant fish which had been asleep on the bottom, the dark bulk before him began to stir.
“Thank God!” Dave exclaimed, fervently.
A moment more and the sub rose slowly toward the surface. And, like a cattleboy driving the cows home at eventide, Dave followed in his steel ball.
True to the Major’s promise, powerful lights and capable-looking guns were trained on the sub when, with a rush, she broke surface. But there was no need for that. The members of the youthful crew were too glad to escape death on the bottom of the sea, to offer any resistance to capture.
The first person to appear above the sub’s deck was Mildred. Awaiting her in the Tub was Johnny, and how he greeted her was a sight to behold. Some time later they sat on the porch of the Kennedy home—Dave, Doris, Johnny and Mildred.
“Well, Johnny,” said Dave, “our work beneath the very deep sea is done. We’ll collect a few specimens—turtles, crawfish, and bright, tropical fish close to the surface—then hoist anchor for New York!”
“New York? Where is that?” Johnny asked dreamily.
“It’s an ancient Dutch colony,” Dave chuckled.
“Oh, yes! I remember!” said Johnny. “I think I’ll not go there, if you folks don’t mind.” He hesitated.
“Mildred tells me she located their motorboat while she was in the submarine. Major Braden thinks we’ve done a brave deed or two and put him in a good way to clear up this spy business—so he’s going to repay us by helping bring the schooner to the surface. But of course,” he drawled, “there will be a lot of work to be done after that.”
“And you’d like to stay and help” said Dave. “I don’t blame you. I’d like to stay myself. Well, old son, all I can say is—go ahead and God bless you!”
“I’ll be back in the States in two or three months, I guess,” said Johnny. “I—I’m sort of thinking of going to college. College is wonderful for just anybody!
“I hope you come back to these waters with the steel ball,” observed Johnny, after a time. “I’d like to have one good, long, look for old Samatan’s treasure chest.”
“Oh! That?” said Dave, with a short laugh. “Probably just a myth. But if we ever get back—you shall have a try at it, I promise you!”
Transcriber’s Note
- Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
- Obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment.
- Dialect and non-standard spellings were not changed.