The Boy Inventor's Wireless Triumph

It was Ned Bang’s, the boyish wireless operator of the Sea King, who met them at the head of the ladder. Behind him pressed a ring of curious faces, the bronzed countenances of seamen. Some incandescents had been switched on as the newcomers gained the deck, and in the yellow light Jack saw that all the faces that gazed into his bore the unmistakable stamp of agitation.

Bangs, besides being the wireless operator of the Sea King, was something more. He had been a pupil of Professor Chadwick’s and a school fellow of Jack’s, and was quite a scientific adept along the lines he had chosen to follow.

But Jack and Tom exchanged merely hasty words of greeting with the youngster who stood facing them, pallid-faced under his coat of tan and shaken evidently by some recent shock.

“What is it, Ned? What has happened?” demanded Jack eagerly, as soon as the boys had clasped hands. “Where is father? Why are you out here alone?”

“It’s—it’s a long story. Jack,” half-stammered Ned. “I—I’m afraid that we who are here on board don’t show up to very good advantage in it. But you must be the judge of that. Shall we go below, where we can talk?”

There was a reticence, a hesitancy in his tones that irritated Jack, overwrought as he already was.

“I asked you a question, Ned,” he said in sharp tones, very unlike his usual affable ones, “where is my father?”

“I saw him last near Yucatan,” burst forth Ned miserably.

The reply was so utterly unexpected that it fairly took Jack and Tom off their feet. Ned had not seen fit to supplement his statement, but stood there with that same shamefaced expression playing over his visage.

“And you—you left him behind there?” broke out Jack, guessing part of the truth.

“We couldn’t help it,” wailed Ned wretchedly. “Wait till I tell you about it.”

Jack’s head swam. Behind the vague words he sensed a tragedy of some sort in that mysterious country which had already, so it was thought, claimed the life of Tom’s father, Mr. Jesson.

“How did the Sea King come to be off Yucatan?” inquired Jack, “her course, as laid out, was far to the east of that country.”

“I know that,” replied Ned; “but a gale blew us off our reckonings, and into as strange and terrible a series of adventures as you ever heard of in the wildest fiction.”

“Tell us about it,” demanded Tom crisply, cutting short Ned’s rather hysterical outburst. “Come below, into the cabin. It is important that we should know everything as soon as possible.”

“This way,” said Ned, stepping toward the stern.

But Jack paused.

“An attempt was made to ram the Vagrant to-night,” he said, “by a queer, but extremely speedy craft. Do you know anything about her, Ned?”

“Do I know anything about her?”

A quaver of indignation injected itself into Ned’s voice.

“Well, I should say so,” he went on; “that’s the vessel of that scoundrel Herrera, the cousin of the governor of Yucatan, which, as you know, is at present a province of Mexico, but, so far as civilization is concerned, parts of it might as well be in the wilds of Africa.”

Tom had been fidgeting excitedly. The name of Yucatan had called up a swarming crowd of memories of his father, the long missing explorer.

“Had my uncle’s visit to Yucatan anything to do with my father’s disappearance?” he asked.

“Everything,” was the rejoinder, in steadier tones than Ned Bangs had yet assumed. The presence of the self-possessed cousins, and their infectious manner of quiet ability, had braced the unstrung lad up wonderfully.

“It was to rescue your father from——”

“Then he is alive?” burst in Tom, aglow at the wonderful news.

“So there is every reason to suppose,” was Ned’s reply.

Without giving him time to say more, the cousins, having ordered the crew to keep a keen lookout for the speedy “ram” craft and notify them instantly of its appearance, half dragged Ned below, and shoved him into a chair in the comfortably furnished main cabin of the Sea King.

“Now then,” said Jack, “tell us everything, Ned, from the beginning. But first you are reasonably certain that both my father and my uncle are alive?”

“There is practically no doubt of that,” was Ned’s response.

“Then fire away,” ordered Tom, seating himself beside Jack, opposite the still badly shaken Ned Bangs.

“We left New York at the time you know,” commenced Ned, “and cruised for some time in the West Indies, your father. Jack, making stacks of observations and records. We met many interesting adventures, but I’m not going to detail all those now. But, although your father seemed to be immersed in his scientific observations, there were several things unexplained about the Sea King’s equipment.

“In a sort of well amidships was stored the aero-auto with which you had been experimenting before he left High Towers.”

Jack nodded. He knew the wonderful craft had been placed aboard, but had understood it had been taken along for private demonstration purposes.

“You mean the air and land craft driven by the gas generated from radolite crystals?” he asked. “The Flying Road Racer, as we called it.”

“Yes,” rejoined Ned, “I guess that’s it. But I reckon you know more about that than I do since you invented it. Anyhow, the aero-auto, as Professor Chadwick called it, was installed in this well, or pit, amidships, which had evidently been prepared for its reception in advance.”

“And it’s still there?” inquired Tom sharply.

“Still there. Whatever Professor Chadwick intended to use it for, he had no opportunity to try it out before—before what I’m going to tell you occurred. Then, too, I noticed that several chests containing articles whose nature was a mystery to me were stored in a sort of lazaretto under the cabin floor. Whatever their contents, they were evidently too precious for Professor Chadwick to let them out of his sight.”

“Wait a second,” interrupted Tom, “I want to take a look outside.”

In a moment he was back, anti dropped into his place with an “All’s well!”

“Never mind details now. Get ahead to Yucatan,” exclaimed Jack impatiently.

“I’m getting there,” protested Ned, a look of what was almost horror passing over his face at the mere mention of the name. “The storm I referred to before, struck us when we were off the southernmost point of Florida. It was a terror of a rip-roaring hurricane. All we could do was to head up into the mountainous seas and run the engines at a quarter speed. We battled with the hurricane thus for four days, and then MacDuffy, the engineer, came on deck one morning with a white face and the news that the main shaft was cracked. It had been unable to withstand the pressure of the racing propeller every time the Sea King’s stern lifted out of the seas.

“Luckily, the wind had moderated a bit by that time, and we set the try sails. Under these we staggered along at a four-knot gait for what seemed an eternity of time. In reality it was about five days. One morning, when the storm had about blown itself out, the lookout shouted that land lay ahead. Sure enough it did. A strip of gray on the horizon; and I can tell you it was a mighty welcome sight.

“Captain Andrews, our sailing master, announced that the coast was, in all probability, that of Yucatan, and from what he told us of it we could not well have struck a more useless stretch of country to us, situated as we were. But it’s ‘any port in a storm’ said the skipper, and we made for the land, staggering along under our clumsy rig.

“That night we anchored off a wild, desolate-looking coast, without a trace of human habitations being visible anywhere. However, we found a bay which, after careful soundings from the boats, proved to have sufficient depth of water to harbor the Sea King snugly. Here we dropped anchor, and mighty glad we were to have struck a haven at last, I can tell you.

“Next day the chief came to your father and told him that he thought he could clamp a metal collar round the break in the shaft and make it practically as good as new. To our astonishment, Professor Chadwick did not greet the news with any special enthusiasm.

“‘You may as well take your time, Mr. MacDuffy,’ says he, ‘for it is probable that we shall remain here for quite a considerable period.’

“‘A considerable period, sir!’ exclaimed MacDuffy in some surprise. ‘Do you mean to explore yon forsaken land in the interests of science?’

“‘It seems to me, MacDuffy,’ answered Professor Chadwick (MacDuffy told me all this later), ‘that fate has brought me here. A very dear and a very near relative of mine vanished in this part of Yucatan many years ago. When we set out on this cruise I had an idea that perhaps I might undertake to go in search of him, or, at least, to discover some trace of his fate. That accounts for the aero-auto which, as you know, my son Jack and I invented, and also explains those chests which contain several more of our inventions suitable to such an expedition.’

“The Professor went on to say that now that he found himself off the very land which held the secret of Mr. Jesson’s fate, he didn’t mean to leave without making an attempt to solve it. From this determination he was not to be swayed, and the next day one of the boats set him and three of the crew, Abner Jennings, the boatswain; Jack Allworthy, the second engineer; and Ezra Kettle, a Maine man and a staunch seaman, ashore. We watched them from the Sea King as they dragged the boat up on the beach and set off into the jungle, beyond which lay the misty blue outline of a range of huge hills.

“Without the slightest warning, and just as they were about to plunge into the thick brush, the mangroves and scrub vegetation parted, and a score of savage-looking Indians rushed out. We saw your father and the others try to parley with them, and then, before we could even train a gun on the scene, the thing happened.”

He paused for an instant, overcome by the recollection of that tragedy on the Yucatan beach. Immediately Jack jumped to his feet.

“I’ve forgotten the ‘enemy’ outside. Hold on a minute,” he called as he dashed away to the deck. “The watch may be all right,” he continued, when he returned, “but there’s nothing like one’s own eyes. Go on, Ned.”

“Poor Kettle went down, transfixed by a spear in the first few seconds after the encounter. Professor Chadwick’s intention had merely been to reconnoitre in preparation for an expedition later on. Not expecting trouble, none of the party was armed. Allworthy dashed back to the boat and seized up an oar. He did valiant service with it before he, too, was felled by a spear-thrust. In the meantime, Professor Chadwick and Abner Jennings had been captured, notwithstanding their stout resistance. Then they were dragged off into the jungle, while we stood half-paralyzed with horror at the suddenness and disastrous consequences of the attack.

“The last we saw of your father. Jack, he was motioning back to us to put out to sea. Brave to the last, he thought of us before himself.”

Ned stooped and placed his hands over his eyes as if to shut out the picture his words called up. Jack Chadwick sat staring vacantly at the paneling of the cabin, not daring to trust his voice to speech. Tom, not less affected, gripped his cousin’s hand.

“Remember, old chap,” he murmured, “that Ned told us some time ago that there was reason to believe that your father was still alive.”

“I’m coming to that,” said Ned, raising his head and proceeding with his narrative.

“It was MacDuffy,” continued the lad, “who organized an expedition to go to your father’s rescue. There was MacDuffy, Captain Andrews, four seamen and myself. The rest were left in charge of the Sea King, the engine-room force having instructions to proceed with the repairs to the shaft, which were really simple enough, consisting only of bolting a collar of metal around the split.

“We were heavily armed, as you may imagine, and after we had landed in the light boat, we stowed it in the brush where it would not be likely to be discovered by marauders. The other boat, the one in which your father landed, had been stove in by those rascally natives. Our first task after this, was to bury poor Kettle as decently as we could. This done, we took up the trail, which was plain enough to follow. In fact, we learned afterward, it was a regular path that the natives followed when they came to the coast after turtles and fish.

“Danger? Well, we knew we were going into a desperate game, but, as MacDuffy said, we couldn’t do otherwise than our best to rescue your father. As we made our way through the jungle we discussed the situation. It looked black and no mistake. In the first place, as Captain Andrews pointed out, the revolution was raging in northern Mexico, and Diaz, in his last desperate stand, had withdrawn troops from every province in Mexico. Captain Andrews told us that the descendants of the Mayas, who inhabited this part of Yucatan, were endowed with a fierce hatred of Mexicans and white men in general, and that they had been kept in subjugation solely by the presence of large bodies of troops. With this menace to their warlike ideas withdrawn, the Mayas were probably ripe for any mischief.

“All this, as you can imagine, didn’t tend to raise our spirits, and the prospect of rescuing your father began to seem remote indeed. Well, to cut a long story short, we followed the trail for two days till we began to arrive in the foothills of the range we had seen. Occasionally we came across what were evidently the sites of recent camps, so we knew that we were on the track all right.

“The third day, about noon, we marched right out of a canyon, threaded by a swift river, into an Indian settlement. Before we could say ‘knife,’ or raise a weapon, we were surrounded and made captives. We were thrown into a palm-thatched hut and placed under strict guard, and we faced the prospect of a speedy death. But at the moment we thought little of these matters, for the hut already contained three other captives, and they were Professor Chadwick, Abner Jennings and Jack Allworthy, the last wounded in the shoulder by the spear thrust that had knocked him down, but luckily not seriously.

“You can guess how delighted we were in the first few moments, and then how depressed we all became as we began to realize that so far as an escape was concerned we might as well have been imprisoned in an iron-walled dungeon. We were deprived of nothing in the way of food, and were not bound in any way, but the hut was surrounded by too strong a guard to make any idea of escape practicable. So the night passed, a night that we spent in discussing and rejecting a hundred plans of escape, for each, in turn, was discarded as hopeless.

“But, although we did not realize it, freedom for some of us was close at hand. Shortly before noon the sky became black as night. A screaming sort of wind arose, and suddenly we felt the ground under our feet beginning to rock. It didn’t take us long to catch on that the disturbance was caused by an earthquake of uncommon severity. The natives began to howl and yell, and rushed about like madmen. That wind suddenly picked up our prison and whisked it off, just as it might have dealt with an umbrella. And there we stood, in the middle of all this commotion, unbound and practically free to go where we would, for the natives were far too busy attending to their own affairs to worry about us.

“In the middle of the uproar and the convulsions of the earth, a whole section of the cliff which upreared itself at the back of the settlement, slid down with a roar like a hundred Niagaras. It caught that village, just as a big rock would smash an anthill. We escaped by the skin of our teeth, but, as it was, we were showered with flying rocks and earth. Luckily, none of us was injured.

“But those poor natives fared otherwise. Of the scores that had been rushing about an instant before hardly twenty remained. One of these was a big fellow, with a beautiful copper-colored skin, clad in a sort of garment made out of jaguar hide. He separated from the rest, and we saw that he carried under his arm a large box, or case, which gleamed dully in the gloom.

“‘He’s making for the canoes!’ shouted MacDuffy suddenly, and then, sure enough, we saw what we hadn’t noticed before in all that hurly-burly, namely, that several dugouts were moored to the river bank. I guess we all caught the inspiration at the same instant. Anyhow, we began running for the bank at top speed. But suddenly that copper-colored giant faced about, and we now saw that he carried a whole quiver full of those poisoned darts that the Maya tribes use with deadly effect.

“Before he could aim one, or shout to the rest of the villagers, who hadn’t noted our escape, Abner Jennings flew at him like a wildcat. Down he went, bowled over like a ninepin, under a crashing blow from Jennings’ fist.

“‘Hurray, lads! Now for the boats!’ shouted Allworthy, and we scampered after him toward them. But at that instant a queer thing happened. A man came racing toward us from amidst the ruins of the village.

“‘Get him!’ yelled Allworthy savagely, as Jennings stooped and picked up a big rock.

“But the next instant his hand dropped to his side. The man was white! In spite of his half-naked condition and sun-browned skin, it was clear enough that he was as much of a Caucasian as any of us, and then came the wonderful part of it all.

“‘In the name of heaven, white men, stop!’ he shouted, ‘take me with you. I am——’”

“Jasper Jesson!”

It was Tom Jesson who had uttered the exclamation. In a flash of intuition he had seen what was coming before Ned uttered it. The lad literally quivered with excitement as he spoke.

“Right. It was your father, Tom,” rejoined Ned. “Professor Chadwick stopped, ran back and embraced him. For a minute we all stood stock still, rooted there by sheer amazement, I guess. Well, we got to the canoes and set out down the river. There were four dugouts, and the way they dashed down that stretch of water was a caution. No need to paddle. The current just tore along for several miles. I don’t see how it was we didn’t upset, but the fact remains that we didn’t. Pretty soon we reached a part of the stream where another flowed into it, and it broadened out and grew calmer.

“Then, for the first time, we felt free to talk. We hauled the canoes ashore and camped while we discussed plans. But first, you may imagine, we heard Mr. Jesson’s story. He had been captured by the tribe who had trapped us, soon after his arrival in the country. And their prisoner he had remained since. Undoubtedly he would have been put to death, but he had by great good luck managed to translate some cryptograms carved in the marble stones of some ruins in the mountains, and after that they looked on him as a sort of god. At any rate, he was well treated, but given no chance to escape. The earthquake that had set us loose had proved his opportunity, too. Of course, it’s no use my trying to give you any idea of his delight and astonishment at finding his brother-in-law and getting news of you, Tom, and of the old home.

“He had just about concluded his story, when Mr. Chadwick drew from under his coat that same metal box that we had seen the big copper-colored fellow skedaddling with. He had taken it from the chap as he lay stunned, rightly guessing that it was of immense value. But he was far from surmising what it was he had really discovered, till a few moments later.

“‘Maybe, Jesson,’ he said, ‘you can tell me what kind of a box this is. It’s silver, all right, for one thing, but it’s covered with some sort of picture writing, too, and——’

“But Tom’s father interrupted him with a shout.

“‘Good heavens, man!’ he exclaimed, ‘you’ve got hold of the holy of holies of the Zakaks,’——that’s the name of the tribe that had hooked us.

“While we all looked on with open mouths, Mr. Jesson broke a long thorn off a prickly bush growing near at hand and shoved it into a small hole in the front of the box. The lid flew open, and there inside was something that made us blink our eyes,—a blood-red stone, a blue one, and a gorgeous green gem.

“We all caught our breath, I can tell you. Each stone was as big as a pigeon’s egg, and it didn’t take an expert to tell that we had before us a ruby, a turquoise and an emerald that had, probably, not their equals in the world.

“Then Mr. Jesson told us how the tribe had a legend that those stones were brought from some, mysterious land beyond the seas by their fore-runners, and that if they were stolen or lost disaster would overtake them. At certain phases of the moon, he said, the stones were worshiped with all sorts of queer rites that he had not been permitted to witness.

“We, none of us, could guess what they were worth, but it was a safe estimate that they represented a snug fortune. As for the box itself, it was, as I said, of dull silver, with three sort of oval bosses or bumps on its cover. These were of a reddish color, and were evidently of no value except as ornaments. After some more talk it was decided to make for the Texan coast, and as soon as we had regained the yacht, get into wireless communication with you lads.

“Professor Chadwick explained that he had had a half-formed intention of attempting to find Mr. Jesson before he left America, and for that reason had sent you boys to Lone Island so that he might notify you of his success by wireless as soon as possible, without letting the general public know, and also have you handy in case of an emergency.”

“So that explains Lone Island,” struck in Jack, “but go on, Ned. I can hardly wait for the rest of your story.”

“Neither can I,” added Tom; “but aren’t you fellows surprised that we don’t hear anything from outside?”

“It is strange,” agreed Jack. “I’ll run up again soon.”

“Well,” continued Ned, “we knew that by following the river we must emerge on the coast, probably near to the spot where the yacht was anchored. We therefore lost no time in re-embarking and getting on our way once more. Luckily, there was some food, bananas and dried flesh of some animal,—deer, most likely,—in the canoes, which must have been provisioned for a trip. So that night, when we camped, we had a good supper, with something left over for the next day.

“We slept under the canoes, turning them keel up to form a protection from the dews, and also from any prowling animals. The spot we had chosen was well back in the brush, so that in case of pursuit we had a good hiding place. But we slept without interruption, taking watch in turn. The next morning, before it was well light, we set out down the river again, and that afternoon we had reason to think we were close to the coast. The character of the jungle on either side of the river changed and the stream grew wider and more sluggish.

“So far we had had no indication that we were not the only human beings in that part of the country, so you can imagine our astonishment when, about mid-afternoon, on rounding a bend in the stream, we beheld a squat, drab-colored craft, without spars or funnel, moored to the bank. It didn’t need a second glance to tell us that she was a fighting craft of some kind. On her decks were the outlines of several rapid-fire guns shrouded under canvas covers. Her bow was shaped like a ram, and we could see by the rows of rivets along her sides that she was built of steel.

“‘That’s one of the new shoal-draft, gasolene gunboats, built for the Diaz government at the Vulcan yards in Charlestown,’ declared Professor Chadwick at once.

“He had hardly spoken when several of the crew, who had been lounging about the decks, saw us coming. There was an instant stir on board the ugly-looking craft, and presently the figure of a small, dark-skinned man, with a black, pointed beard and moustache, and heavy, sinister eyebrows, appeared on the bridge, which was just forward of a sort of conning tower.

“He wore white garments and a broad-brimmed Panama hat. As soon as he appeared he hailed us.

“‘Come alongside, gentlemen,’ he said, using almost perfect English. ‘I welcome you to El Tarantula.’”

“A few moments later,” continued Ned, “we were standing on the deck of the sinister-looking craft, confronted by her equally sinister-looking owner, for such we soon found he was, in fact, if not in name. From him we speedily learned that not only was he the governor of that part of the province of Yucatan, but that he also controlled large plantations near the mouth of the river. The principal produce of these was sisal hemp, a well-known and valuable product of the country.

“Naturally, we supposed that as soon as we had told our story, the first act of Ramon Herrera, for such he informed us was his name, would be to aid us in reaching our yacht. But the event proved exactly to the contrary.

“‘You will take up quarters for the present on my yacht, gentlemen,’ he said, in a tone almost of command.

“Professor Chadwick started to protest, but met with a stern interruption.

“‘My country is in the throes of a revolution,’ Herrera said, ‘and at the present time it is unknown to me whether your United States of North America is involved in the trouble or not. It is my belief, and that of many of my countrymen, that the massing of troops on the Texan border, by orders of your President Taft, is a menace to the Diaz government, and an encouragement to the revolutionaries. This being so, you must regard yourselves as my guests,—I will not use an uglier word,—till such time as I receive further advices. Furthermore, I do not mean to make any secret of my dislike for meddling Yankees.’

“‘Sir,’ exclaimed Professor Chadwick, ‘you are deliberately insulting.’

“‘Senor Yankee,’ was the calm reply, ‘you have deliberately intruded yourself into a country where you and your inquisitive countrymen are not wanted.’

“‘I am not aware by what right you dare to assume such an attitude toward us,’ resumed Professor Chadwick, now thoroughly aroused, and, indeed, we were all at the boiling-point, as you can imagine. Herrera’s every word seemed to be a deliberate taunt.

“‘I assume my attitude, as you call it, by right of might,’ was the cold reply, ‘my ancestor. General Jose de Guzman Herrera, was slain by your Yankee soldiers in the Mexican war. Judge, then, if I have any reason to favor Yankees.’

“‘You are likely to pay dearly for this forcible detention of peaceful citizens of a republic at peace with your country,’ warned Allworthy.

“Herrera shrugged his shoulders.

“‘I’ll take my chance of that,’ he said, ‘besides, as I remarked before, I am not so certain that my country and your country are not by this time at war.’

“Well, there was nothing more to be said, and determined to make the best of our situation we went docilely enough to the quarters that Herrera had provided for us, which consisted of three cabins in the extreme stern of the ship. Captain Andrews, MacDuffy and I were thrust into one cabin, your father and Mr. Jesson into the next compartment, and Abner Jennings and the two sailors into a third stateroom.

“Here was a pretty kettle of fish, and a fine ending to our hopes of reaching the coast, which, we were confident, was not far distant. From scraps of conversation we overheard, for there were gratings above each stateroom door, we learned that the Tarantula was tied up to the shore bordering on one of Herrera’s plantations. We heard later that the slaves,—most of them Mosquito Coast negroes illegally impressed as slaves,—had made some trouble, and that Herrera was here with his armed craft to suppress the uprising by stern means. What these means were we found out later, and without going into detail, we heard enough to know that the monster,—as we subsequently found him to be,—spared no form of cruelty to browbeat his luckless servitors into submission. All this was translated for us by Captain Andrews, who spoke Spanish fluently.

“We might have been confined in our narrow quarters for an hour, or it might have been longer, when we heard the door of the adjoining stateroom unlocked, and presently voices came to us through the grating. It was easy to recognize Herrera’s tones as he cross-examined Professor Chadwick. One of the Mexican sailors had noticed that when the professor came on board he had slipped a silver chest—the treasure box—under his coat. The fellow had informed Herrera, and now that arch-scoundrel was demanding that Professor Chadwick and Mr. Jesson submit to being searched.

“I can tell you we exchanged blank glances when we overheard this. It seemed pretty tough that, after all we had gone through, we were to be robbed of what was bound to prove a substantial reward, for Professor Chadwick had insisted that we agree to take an equal share with him having participated in his dangers.

“But to our astonishment the search evidently resulted in nothing being found. For before long we heard Herrera bursting out into Spanish oaths. He wanted to know what had become of the box.

“‘If you had asked me before,’ Professor Chadwick replied, ‘I would have told you. I threw it overboard rather than let it fall into your hands.’

“We listened for an outburst or worse right then. But none came. The rascal, in whose power we were, evidently didn’t know the value of the silver box, for he merely remarked that Professor Chadwick’s act would not improve our situation, and left the cabin. But we, in the adjoining stateroom, again exchanged blank glances. It was no joke to think of that fortune in magnificent stones being consigned to the muddy depths of that Yucatan stream.

“A short time after Herrera left the cabin, however. Professor Chadwick climbed up on a bunk in his stateroom, and placing his lips to the grating informed us that he had not, in reality, hurled the box overboard, but that it was suspended outside the porthole of his cabin by a fine bit of cord which he had happened to have in his pockets. The porthole was beneath the overhang of the stern of the gunboat, and unless any sailor went prying about under the vessel’s counter there was not much likelihood of its being discovered. The Professor informed us also that he was determined not to purchase our liberty at the price of the precious stones.

“‘This is the twentieth century,’ he said, ‘and I refuse to believe that this rascal, for such Herrera has shown himself to be, will dare to hold captive free American citizens for any length of time.’

“We agreed with him in this, but MacDuffy, who, as an engineer, possessed with an investigating turn of mind, still busied himself, as he had since the moment of our imprisonment, with trying to find some means of escape. There was a nine-inch porthole in our stateroom, and also in the other two. But, of course, this offered no opportunity for escape. By peeping out through it, however, we could see that our dugouts had been attached to the stern of the Tarantula by a line. If we could only reach them we might be able to attain freedom.

“All at once MacDuffy uttered an exclamation. He had discovered that under the porthole was a square plate, bolted into the stern frames, and seemingly devised, when removed, to permit of a gun being thrust through the opening. The nuts which held the bolts in place were inside the cabin, and MacDuffy produced from his pockets a serviceable-looking monkey wrench, which was the engineer’s constant companion.

“‘I’ll undertake to have those nuts unscrewed in half an hour,’ said he in a low, excited tone, ‘and then what’s to prevent us dropping through the stern to-night, hooking the dugouts and floating down to the coast?’

“What indeed? we thought. The plan looked feasible enough. But, naturally, we did not, for a minute, countenance the idea of making good our own escape and leaving the rest to their fate. But Professor Chadwick, when we communicated our plan, decided at once that we must make the attempt that night, and, if we succeeded in reaching the coast and the Sea King, must summon help.

“After a lot of persuasion we agreed to do this. Then we waited, with as much patience as we could muster, for the night to fall. Food and drink was brought us at dusk, and we ate all we could, knowing that we might have strenuous work before us. After dark MacDuffy fell to work on the bolts. It took scarcely an hour to loosen them. This much accomplished, we waited till all grew quiet about the Tarantula, which was not before midnight.

“Whispering a good-by to Professor Chadwick and Mr. Jesson, we dropped through the opening, after MacDuffy had removed the plate which left a hole some four feet square. The rope by which the dugouts trailed astern was just above our heads. Captain Andrews seized it and pulled the first of the frail craft toward the Tarantula till it was under the opening we had made. Then they told me to drop down as silently as possible. When I was on board MacDuffy followed, stuffing his wrench into his hip pocket, and last came Captain Andrews. Before we cut loose we, according to Professor Chadwick’s instructions, cut the string by which the jewel casket was suspended, and stowed it safely on board the dugout.

“This done, I cut the painter with a slash of my knife, and the dugout drifted silently off down the current into the darkness. Our escape had been made in safety. We reached the coast, and after paddling northward for half a day, sighted the Sea King. All was as we had left it, and mighty glad every one was to see us. I can tell you. But the plight of Professor Chadwick, Mr. Jesson and the rest, cast a gloom over us all.”

“Tell me,” begged Tom, interrupting again, “are they still on the Tarantula?”

“I don’t know,” replied Ned.

“Well, hurry your story,” exclaimed Jack. “We must go to their rescue wherever they are!”

“Captain Andrews lost no time in ordering me to the wireless,” continued Ned hastily, “and as we steamed northward I kept pumping away at my key. At length, as you know, I got into communication with you. But as I did so there was a sharp and sudden shock through the Sea King, and she came to an abrupt stop. That shaft had parted again. There was nothing for us to do but to anchor. At almost the same time one of the crew shouted that a craft resembling the Tarantula was on the southern horizon and overhauling us fast. It didn’t need a second look to show us that the strange vessel was indeed the Tarantula. As she drew close to us there was a flash and a puff of smoke from her bow, and ‘crash!’ our aerials parted,—shot through at the foremast.

“There we were, crippled and helpless, and I didn’t even know for sure if my message to you was clear or no.”

“One question,” put in Jack, “has the Tarantula a wireless?”

“Yes; I meant to tell you about that. She is fitted with a collapsible military mast, and, from what we overheard, Herrera has a complete plant at his plantation ashore likewise.”

“That disposes of X. Y. Z.,” said Jack, glancing at Tom. “It’s plain enough now that some one ashore intercepted our message, just as we caught theirs, and flashed it to Herrera.”

“Guess you’re right,” agreed Tom gloomily, “and we are responsible for giving away the exact location of the Sea King.”

“How’s that?” asked Ned, in a wondering tone.

“I’ll explain all about it later,” said Jack, “the thing is now to formulate some sort of plan to get out of this tangle. Is Captain Andrews or Chief MacDuffy about?”

“MacDuffy is below, trying to fix the break in the shaft,” was the response. “Captain Andrews is asleep in his cabin. He was worn out, and I didn’t wake him when our rocket signals were answered by you.”

“Well, I think we’d better rouse him now,” Jack was beginning, when the cabin door was flung open and a sailor, whose face was chalky beneath his tan, burst in. The group at the table looked up, startled and alert. Ned’s narration had taken almost an hour, and although they had not forgotten the dangerous proximity of the Tarantula, they had had no way of guessing in what way their enemy would next become active.

“That yaller-faced Greaser’s craft is bearing down on us. Mister Bangs!” exclaimed the man. “She looks as if——”

There was a sharp crash overhead, and the booming detonation of a gun resounded an instant later. The boys sprang to their feet and scrambled up the companion way, headed for the deck.

As they went Jack flashed a swift word to Ned.

“You say that the chests my father took such care of are still in the cabin?”

“Yes; in the Professor’s stateroom.”

“Good. I’ve a notion they contain something that may prove valuable to us right now. Open them up and see if one of them contains some queer-looking guns. If it does, bring the weapons on deck right away, and—summon Captain Andrews.”

Ned retraced his steps and Jack ran swiftly up after Tom. On deck they found the sailors running about distractedly. The shot they had heard had carried away part of the foremast of the Sea King. The wreckage lay in a tangle, about which the seamen hovered confusedly.

While the boys still stood regarding the scene, hardly knowing for the moment what to do, a stoutly-built man, with an overcoat hastily thrown on over a suit of pajamas, joined them. It was Captain Andrews. The light from the incandescents fell on his bronzed, blonde-bearded face, and Jack felt, as he clasped the newcomer’s hand, that here was a man who could be relied on to the last ditch.

“Ned Bangs told me I would find you here,” he said. “I hastened on deck right away. I should have been out and about long ago; but——”

“That’s all right, captain,” spoke Jack swiftly, “you had earned your rest and no mistake. The thing is, what are we going to do now?”

“The rascal Herrera has attacked us, Ned told me.”

“Yes. His craft is in the offing now. He has shot away part of the foremast. The riding-light on it must have acted as a target for him.”

As the lad spoke a voice came cut of the darkness:

“We want that silver casket. Are you going to give it up peaceably, or do we have to blow your vessel out of the water?”

“You infernal scoundrels!” shouted Andrews, before Jack could check him.

The captain bounded forward to a machine gun. With quick, nervous fingers he was ripping off its cover when Jack laid a hand on his arm.

“Hold on a minute, captain,” he said, “I’ve another plan. We shall know in a few seconds now if it will succeed.”

The captain looked at him wonderingly.

“They outnumber and outarm us,” he began. But Jack broke in:

“I’ve an idea that one of those chests in my father’s cabin contains some novel weapons,” he said, “a new kind of gun, the invention of Tom and myself. They contain a magazine of shells loaded with a gas which will paralyze any form of animal life with which they come in contact.”

The captain gasped.

“Well,” he said, “I’d heard that you kids were inventive wonders, but this——”

“Oh, we didn’t invent the gas,” interposed Tom, who had been an interested listener to Jack’s last words, “Professor Chadwick did that. But we applied it to use in the guns.”

“And they work?”

“Well, we’ve tried them on rabbits and small game, and brought down whatever we aimed at. You see, the shells are loaded with this gas in a semi-solid form. When the gun is fired a fuse is lighted, which releases the gases, and they fill the atmosphere, surrounding anything they strike with a vapor that causes temporary helplessness.”

As Jack spoke there came another hail out of the darkness.

“We are waiting. Resistance is useless. We know you have that casket with you. What is your answer?”

“Will you give us a few moments to consider?” shouted back Jack.

A pause followed.

“I wonder how on earth they know that Ned and the rest secured the casket?” wondered Tom.

This was a poser. It was not till long afterward that they found out that, following the discovery of their escape from the Tarantula, a sailor had noticed the severed string hanging from the porthole of the Professor’s cabin prison. Herrera’s keen mind at once guessed the purpose it had served, and also surmised that the casket must be very valuable. Professor Chadwick, on being questioned, admitted,—thinking of course that the Sea King was by that time out of danger of pursuit,—the manner in which he had tricked the Mexican and the contents of the box.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, ranged the ghostly outlines of El Tarantula. Hardly twenty-five yards separated her from the Sea King. She was moving slowly, far below her usual swift motion. Her dash from the mainland had resulted in overheated engines, which accounted for the space of time those on board the Sea King had been free from her presence.

“We’ll give you five minutes and no more,” came a voice from her midships.

“Good,” murmured Jack, as he heard the terms of the armistice, “that ought to be plenty of time and—Oh, glory be!”

Ned had come on deck while the young leader was speaking. In his arms he carried a collection of as strange-looking weapons as were ever seen outside of a museum. Yet they represented a type of gun destined to become famous.

“Hurray!” muttered Tom under his breath, “they’re the gas-guns, sure enough.”

While Captain Andrews’ eyes fairly bulged. Jack took one of the guns. They were of a dull colored metal, allowing no light to glint from any bright surfaces. A barrel about three and a half feet in length, terminated in a cylinder of greater diameter than the barrel itself. This was a muffler, which effectually silenced the sound of the spring that was used to send the gas globes on their way and snap the fuses. The stocks of these odd firearms, if such they could be called, were large, and contained sixteen “gas globes”—spheres of a tough and glutinous kind of gelatine, filled with the destructive gas—a compound of ammonium nitrate,—in a semi-liquid form.

“How do you fire them?” asked Captain Andrews.

“Handle them just as you would an ordinary gun,” rejoined Jack. “The globes will burst when they strike the Tarantula and spread the gas they contain broadcast. Luckily, the craft is to leeward of us, or we might be in danger of getting a dose of our own medicine when the gas globes detonate.”

“Will the gas kill them?” asked Captain Andrews, in such a vindictive tone that Jack couldn’t help smiling.

“Hardly,” he said; “but it will take the fight out of them for a while, I imagine.”

Acting under the lad’s instructions. Captain Andrews summoned some of the interested sailors to him. There were twelve of the guns “and a chest full of ammunition below,” whispered Ned.

Eight of the men were given a gas-gun each. Their faces expanded in grins as they learned the nature of the novel weapons.

“First time I ever heard of knocking a feller out with a gas pill,” said one of them in an undertone.

The serving out of the gas-guns had hardly been completed when the voice from the Tarantula hailed them again:

“Five minutes is up,” it said; “we’re going to board you.”

At the same instant the Tarantula began to range in alongside. Evidently those on board her did not fear resistance, for as she drew closer her decks blazed with light, and those on board the Sea King could see that her machine guns were trained full on the yacht.

Under Jack’s orders the armed portion of the Sea King’s company had dropped behind the bulwarks, aiming their guns through scupper holes. Thus, of course, all that was revealed to the enemy was a group of flurried-looking sailors standing about the wreckage of the mast forward. Hardly ten yards separated the two vessels when Jack gave the whispered command: “Fire!”

What followed, so Tom described it afterward to the author, “was like watching a moving picture.”

There was no sound as the triggers on the gas-guns were pulled, but as the collapsible globes struck the Tarantula’s decks and superstructure and burst with a soft, pattering sound, her crew began to roll about like drunken men.

As the stupefying vapors impregnated the air with their fumes, one after another the men began to drop like flies. The resistance of the stoutest didn’t endure for more than a space of five minutes. Herrera himself, the last to succumb, fell beside the wheel house as he was shouting at the helmsman to withdraw from the infected air.

The young inventors’ wonderful gas-guns had received their first real test, and had surely not been found wanting in efficiency. The Tarantula, a few moments since the scene of feverish activity, now lay a drifting hulk. Her engines were still slowly revolving, but there was no hand to govern them. Several of the gas globes had been aimed at the engine-room hatches, which were open. Deflecting thence they had burst into the machinery space, stupefying the force at work there.

The victory was complete and sweeping.

“Well, what next?”

It was Tom who spoke, and his voice broke the spell that had held all hands as they gazed at the silent craft drifting away from them into the darkness.

“We must overhaul the Tarantula and set my father and yours free, Tom, if they are still there,” came from Jack.

“A good suggestion; but how are we to do it?” inquired Captain Andrews, who was not aware of the readiness of the Vagrant to be placed in active service at once.

“We’ll board the Vagrant. At the pace that spider-craft is going it won’t take long to lay alongside her,” decided Jack.

Before many minutes had passed Jack, Tom Jesson and Ned were on board the Vagrant. Jupe, much against his wishes, was left behind on the Sea King.

“Ah’d hev liked jes ter hev one good, big kick at dat Mexican tamale,” he argued; but it was decided to go without him.

The Vagrant’s engines, despite the recent strain placed on them, were found to be working perfectly. Amidst a shower of good wishes from those left on board the Sea King, she moved off into the darkness in pursuit of their recently vindictive enemy. As Jack had foretold, it did not take long to overhaul the craft with which Herrera had hoped to intimidate those on board Professor Chadwick’s yacht.

It gave the boys a somewhat uncanny sensation as they stole silently alongside the slowly moving Tarantula, and then made fast by throwing a grappling iron on her decks. This feeling was not changed when, clambering on board, they gazed on the decks strewn with senseless forms, lying as they had fallen. They appeared to be wrapped in deep, dreamless slumber. The gas had operated on them much as if they had been patients in a hospital under the influence of an anæsthetic.

Stopping only to make sure that all on board were dead to outward impressions for an hour at least,—after which time Jack calculated they would begin to stir,—the trio of lads made no more delay about seeking out the stern cabins, in which, they believed. Professor Chadwick and the rest were confined.

Jack was the first to make the alarming discovery that the staterooms which had been the scene of their captivity were empty.

It was a bitter pill to swallow indeed. The boys, perhaps despite their better judgment, had confidently calculated on finding and delivering their friends. Now, however, it appeared that they were as far from accomplishing this as ever.

“There’s only one conclusion to draw,” said Jack at length. “Herrera, for reasons best known to himself, has left them some place ashore.”

“Unless he——” began Ned, but Jack cut him short.

“I guess even Herrera wouldn’t dare to go much further than that,” he declared stoutly, “the question now is,—where has he left them?”

“Judging from the speed with which he overtook the Sea King he could not have proceeded far from the spot where we first encountered the Tarantula,” decided Ned, “according to my ideas then, our friends have most probably been set ashore on his plantation.”

“Cracky! I believe you are right, Ned,” cried Tom in a jubilant tone.

His voice became more sober the next minute, though.

“In that case they will be under a strong guard,” he added despondently.

“I don’t see that that follows,” struck in Jack. “I’ve just been thinking that Herrera, judging from his large crew, must have most of his fighting men right here on board the Tarantula. In such a case, the ones left at the plantation can’t be much more formidable than those slaves Ned told us about a while back.”

“That does sound reasonable,” assented Tom, “so then it will be our best plan to make for the coast at once. Do you think you could find the mouth of that river again, Ned?”

“Captain Andrews has its exact bearings,” rejoined the “wireless” lad. “I guess we could pick it up with no more trouble than we’d have in making any other port.”

“That sounds good,” gleefully exclaimed Jack. “I reckon it will be our best plan of action, too.”

“More especially as Herrera and company are going to have bad headaches when they do wake up, and will take some time to get their wits together,” said Tom with a grin. “By that time, if all goes well, we ought to have secured the freedom of our party.”

“Jove! But there’s one thing we were almost forgetting,” cried Ned suddenly.

“What’s that?”

The question proceeded from Tom.

“This craft has wireless. When the bunch comes back to life they can flash a message to the plantation telling them to be on the lookout for us. That is, if they guess where we’ve gone, and there isn’t much doubt that they will.”

“Right you are, Ned Bangs,” agreed Jack; “but I guess with what we know about wireless it won’t take over and above long to fix the Tarantula’s apparatus so that it won’t be any more good than a bunch of junk.”

“Seems a shame,” commented Tom.

Jack and Ned stared at him.

“Yes, and it would have been a shame if Herrera had sent the Sea King to the bottom, as he fully intended to do,” indignantly exclaimed the latter. “I don’t see where he comes in to be entitled to any more consideration than a rattlesnake.”

“No more do I,” assented Jack. “Come on, let’s find the wireless room of this craft and get busy with it.”

It took but a few minutes to locate the wireless room of the speedy gunboat. It took still less time for Jack to sever the wires and render the condensers and helix useless.

“There,” he said, with a deep breath, as he concluded his task, “I guess it will be quite a while before any messages can be flashed from this craft.”

“Unless they have extra apparatus on board,” came from Tom.

“Gee whiz! That didn’t occur to me. Wonder if they have?”

“Well, we can’t waste time looking for it,” struck in Ned. “You said the effects of that gas would wear off in about an hour, didn’t you. Jack?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest we get a move on.”

“Right you are,” agreed Jack, and then, looking around for Tom, he missed him. The lad had slipped silently out of the place.

“What can have become of him?” gasped Jack, somewhat astounded at Tom’s quick disappearance act.

It was not till they emerged on deck a few seconds later that they heard sounds from the engine-room, and presently Tom showed up. He had a wrench in his hand, and bore a well-satisfied grin on his round face.

“What on earth have you been up to?” asked Jack.

“I’ve been administering much the same treatment to the engines of this craft that you have to the wireless,” chuckled Tom. “Gee whillikers! what an astonished outfit of tamale-eaters there’s going to be on this ship when they come to life!”