The Boy Inventors' Diving Torpedo Boat

The words of the old salt were an inspiration to the anxious group in the steersman’s section of the craft.

“What’s your plan, Tom?” asked Mr. Dancer, bravely banishing all trace of alarm from his voice.

“Just this. We’ll see if we can’t shoot ourselves loose.”

“Shoot ourselves loose!”

The others looked at Tom Jesson as if he had gone suddenly crazy. But he returned their glances without a trace of embarrassment.

“I mean just what I said,” he repeated steadily.

In his voice there was a ring that compelled respectful attention to his next words.

“We have a submarine gun?”

“Yes,” responded Mr. Chadwick eagerly.

“Well, now’s the time to use it.”

“In what way?”

It was Mr. Dancer’s turn to ask questions.

“To cut that rope.”

“Jove! Chadwick, the boy’s right!”

The inventor clapped Tom on the shoulder.

“You take charge of this,” he said; “anyhow, you know the details of the gun as well as I do by this time.”

“I’m not saying that my plan will be successful, mind,” warned Tom.

“Carry it out on your own lines. I’ll depend upon you absolutely.”

Thanks,” said Tom, half laughing, “but I’ll need help.”

“You shall have it,” agreed the inventor instantly.

“Whom do you wish to aid you?” inquired Mr. Chadwick.

“Silas and Jupe,” was the reply; “Silas knows the gun almost as well as I do. Jupe can carry ammunition.”

“Silas! Jupe!”

The two summoned by Mr. Dancer appeared. Silas’s weatherbeaten countenance betrayed no signs of emotion. Jupe, on the other hand, evidenced every variety of fear.

“Fo’ de lub ob de Holy Poker, Marse Jack!” he cried, “what kin’ ob new trubbel am dis?”

“Why, you are not scared, Jupe?”

“Not scared? Gorryme! Fust mah soup am spilled, ah’m scal-dead, an’ ebberyting knocked galley west, den ah heahs dat we am stuck at de bottom ob de sea!”

Jupe threw his hands above his head.

“Lan’s sakes and Moses pipes!” he cried, “what you tink ah am? Annuder Jonah at de bottom ob de ullibguitous ocean, swallowed up in de tummy ob a ombliferous whale?”

Even in their predicament they could not help laughing at the old negro’s perturbation.

“Cheer up and get to work, Jupe, and stop enriching the English language,” urged Mr. Chadwick.

“Yep, ef he don’t stow that guff I’ll treat him as we did landlubbers on the old Ohio,” growled Silas, with a meaning look at the shaking Jupe.

“Ah don’t want nuffin’ lak dat; ’deed I don’t, Marse Siltack,” he wailed; “wha’ you want me to do, sah?”

“I’ll show you, you fountain-pen-colored moke, jes as soon as I get my sailing orders,” roared Silas.

“That won’t be long,” declared Jack. “Fire away, Tom.”

“I want some ammunition for the submarine gun and then I want you to help me handle it,” said Tom.

“Bully for you, my hearty!” cried Silas. “I used to was first mate back on the old Ohio—first gunner’s mate, I mean. Ever hear the song:

“That will do, Silas,” broke in Mr. Dancer, “take Jupe and bring that ammunition at once.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” declared Silas in what he would have called “man-o’-war fashion.”

“Come on, you black imp of Satan,” he concluded to Jupe; “let’s get some pills fer that gun.”

“Pills!” cried Jupe. “Fo’ de lan’s sake, Marse Silas, sah! We got stuck on de bottom ob de sea and you talks ‘bout givin’ de gun medicine! I resigns mah commission as chief cook and bottle washah ob dis yar packet jes’ as soon as we gits asho’—ef we ebber do.”

“And if not?” Tom teased him.

“Wa’al, sah, den I ’signs it anyhow.”

A few minutes later Silas and Jupe had brought the ammunition for the submarine gun from the steel-walled magazine in which it was kept. Naturally, steam being the driving power for the projectile, there was no powder necessary. In fact, the explosive bullet used looked much like the missile hurled from a four-inch, quick-firing gun.

It was highly polished, and at its extremity had a sort of mushroom-shaped tip. This was the “bow,” so to speak, of this submarine death craft. It was made broad so that it was not likely to miss anything at which it was aimed. The idea of the projectile was that as soon as it struck an object the mushroom-shaped tip drove down on a mercurial cap, which exploded the charge of high explosive when it detonated.

The gun was sighted through a small tube with an illuminated “eye” at its extremity. Through this tube it was possible to see outside the metal walls of the diving boat, and to sight the object to be aimed at in the glow cast from the searchlights in the observation tube.

Many times during the weeks of work on the White Shark Tom had experimented with the gun, and now there was no hesitation in his manner as he placed an explosive shell within the breech of the gun and closed it. This done he sighted the weapon carefully and then, with compressed lips and grim, determined manner he pressed the lever that admitted the water to the superheated chamber.

A small wheel was then turned which closed the water chamber. When it had been thus sealed, Tom’s next act was to press the button which set the electric current to its work of turning the water into superheated steam.

“One! two!” he counted, and then, with a quick nod as of assurance that he would succeed, he bent over the gun and suddenly twisted a small handle.

There was not a sound, but every one standing in the chamber knew that the gun had been fired. It was almost uncanny, this idea of releasing a giant force without there being the faintest sound to show that the projectile had sped on its way through the water.

Following the discharge of the gun came a moment of intense anxiety, and then a cry from the inventor:

“Hurray! It’s succeeded!”

“Good shot, my boy!” cried Mr. Chadwick.

Peering through the observation tube, they had seen the snake-like line of the rope part as the projectile struck it and exploded, turning the water all about into thick white obscurity. This condition lasted only an instant after the explosion. It then became clear that the White Shark was once more free.

Jack and Tom scampered to the engine room as soon as they saw that the dangling rope no longer menaced the safety of the ship.

“Rise at full speed!” came the shouted order from Mr. Dancer.

The motors whirred and the White Shark shot toward the surface.

It was not till then that Jack said in a speculative voice:

“Shouldn’t wonder if there’ll be trouble when that ship up above finds out we’ve cut her anchor line.”