THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA
CHAPTER I
A STRANGE SIGHT
“Look down there! What do you suppose that is?”
“Must be a whale. See how it’s plowing along through the waves!”
“And right on top of the water, too. But if it’s a whale why doesn’t it spout?”
Three boys, who were sailing over the waters of Massachusetts Bay in a large air craft, had seen a strange sight as they looked down through the glass floor of the cabin of their motorship, and their comments and questions followed rapidly. So engrossed were they with the appearance of what seemed to be some marine monster that, for a few moments, they paid no attention to the course of their boat, which was carrying them along just below the clouds.
It was not until Jerry Hopkins, the oldest of the three lads, called the attention of his companions to the need of giving heed to their craft, that the other two—Ned Slade and Bob Baker—turned their eyes from the strange creature below them—if creature it was.
“I say there, Ned!” exclaimed Jerry, “just throw in a little more gas, will you? or we ourselves will be down in those same waves in a little while. We’re sinking!”
“That’s so!” agreed Bob. “But still we wouldn’t be in much danger, for the automatic air planes would set when we began to fall too fast.”
“Even at that,” went on Jerry, who was steering the Comet, as the motorship was named, “even then I think it’s just as well not to take too many chances. Turn on a little more gas, Ned.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” exclaimed the one addressed, and with a quick motion of one of many shining levers and wheels in the pilot house he sent some of the compressed gas into the lifting-bags of the Comet, thus making her more buoyant.
“There it is again!” cried Bob, once more pointing below. They all looked, Jerry turning his attention away from the wheel that guided the craft. First, however, he looked ahead to make sure there was no danger of a collision, for the boys had come to Boston to attend an aviation meet, and at times there had been so many of the “birdmen” in the sky-space that a collision was really not so unlikely as at first it would seem.
“Yes, it’s there yet,” agreed Ned. “I’m sure it’s a whale!”
“But why doesn’t it spout?” demanded Bob, who had asked that question before. “Then we’d be sure of it. I thought whales had to spout every ten minutes or so, and that one’s been in sight about that time.”
“You’re off on your natural history, Bob,” said Jerry, with a smile. “Whales don’t have to spout oftener than a half-hour. And besides, that’s only when they’ve been swimming under water. This one is on the surface, running awash, you might say, and so doesn’t have to send out a long breath that it’s been holding in a long while. It can breathe naturally.”
“That’s it! I’m never right,” grumbled Bob, whose stout form and good-natured face did not fit well with the scowl with which he regarded his chum. “I guess I know as much about whales as you do, Jerry Hopkins!”
“That isn’t much,” admitted Jerry, frankly. “I don’t claim to be an authority, but I’m sure a whale on the surface doesn’t have to spout—at least, not very often.”
“Are you sure it is a whale?” asked Ned quietly, and there was something in the tone of his voice that caused his companions to look quickly at him. “Why don’t we go lower down so we can have a better look at it. Then we could make certain.”
“I guess that would be the best plan,” admitted Jerry. “We can drop to within a few feet of the surface and——”
“Don’t go too close!” interrupted Bob. “It looks to me like a storm. We may get a squall any minute, and if we go too low down we may not be able to rise quickly enough. I don’t want to see the good old Comet come to grief.”
“Neither do I,” responded Jerry. “But I guess we’ve done harder stunts than that. Get ready to let her down, Ned. See if the rudder planes are all clear.”
“Besides,” went on stout Bob, “we haven’t had lunch yet, and——”
“There he goes!” cried Ned with a laugh, as he left his comfortable seat and prepared to go aft to the motor room. “It wouldn’t be Chunky unless he mentioned the ‘eats’ every so often. I was just waiting to hear you come out with that, Bob.”
“Huh! Well, then, you weren’t disappointed; were you?” demanded the stout lad.
“That’s all right,” interposed Jerry, hastening to pour oil on troubled waters. “Don’t get on your ear, Chunky. Ned didn’t mean anything. Come on, we’ll take a little plane downward, and settle the identity of this mysterious creature of the sea.”
“Listen to him!” exclaimed Ned. “He’s getting poetical!”
“Quit knocking,” advised Jerry. “If Professor Snodgrass were along now he might be able to settle the question for us.”
“Yes, and he’d be sure to want to capture the beast for his private collection,” said Bob, whose ill-humor had disappeared, leaving him with a smile on his round countenance.
“All ready, Ned?” asked Jerry, who was giving his attention to various gear-wheels and levers. “Shall I send her down now?”
“I guess so. Just a minute until I open the gas intake a little wider. You’re going to navigate as a dirigible; aren’t you?”
“No, I was thinking of sailing as an aeroplane,” was the answer.
“Oh, then wait until I throw in the rudder gears.”
The Comet, about which I will tell you more presently (that is, you boys who have had no previous acquaintance with her), could be navigated as a dirigible balloon by means of a powerful lifting-gas stored in reservoirs, or she could sail as a biplane, her powerful propellers sending her along on the principle of all “heavier than air” machines.
While waiting for Ned to adjust the machinery, so that the change from one form to the other could be made, Jerry glanced down toward the heaving waters above which the Comet had been sailing, and amid the waves of which had appeared the strange object that had excited the curiosity of the boys. It was still there, plowing slowly through the water, but the air craft was so high up that a good view could not be had of it.
“All ready!” called Ned from the motor room.
Jerry was about to shut off the supply of gas, sending it into the compressors where it could not exert a lifting force, and had stretched his hand toward the lever of the deflecting rudder, when Bob cried:
“Say, I’ve got an idea! Why didn’t we think of it before, fellows?”
“What is it?” asked Jerry, pausing in his intended operations.
“The telescope,” replied Bob. “We can get a view of the mysterious beast with that, and won’t have to go down at all. I’ll get it,” and he started toward a locker.
“Oh, never mind,” said Jerry. “As long as we’re ready we might as well go down anyhow. Besides, only one of us can use the glass at a time. If we get the Comet near enough we can all see. Let her go, Ned.”
“Going she is!” came from Ned.
There was a hissing as the automatic pumps began compressing the lifting-gas, and a few seconds later Jerry yanked on the lever that would tilt the big rudder to such a position that the ship would dive downward. At the same time the propellers, which had been revolving slowly, to keep the Comet from drifting, were whirled with great rapidity as more power was turned into the motor. While navigating as a dirigible balloon the propellers were not needed to keep the ship afloat, but once the lifting-gas was not used they were vitally necessary, for only by keeping in motion can a “heavier than air” machine be prevented from falling.
Bob, who was looking through the glass floor in the main cabin, tracing the course of the object that had so excited the boys, suddenly looked up at Jerry.
“Something’s wrong!” cried the fat lad, and by his tones it could easily be told that he referred to the motorship, and not to the object below him in the water.
“I should say there was!” gasped Jerry, for the Comet had plunged downward with such abruptness that the boys were fairly dizzy.
“What’s the matter?” yelled Ned, making his way from the motor room by fairly pulling himself along. He had to do this as the ship was tilted at such a sharp angle. “What happened?” Ned went on.
“It’s that deflecting rudder again!” answered Jerry. “I thought we had it adjusted too fine. Now it’s jammed again.”
“Shut off the motors! Stop the propellers!” cried Bob.
“I’m doing it as fast as I can!” returned tall Jerry. He had reached over and snapped off a switch that controlled the electric current which fired the gasoline motor.
“We’re heading straight into the sea—bow down!” cried Ned, taking a hasty observation.
“Turn on the gas again!” ordered Jerry. “That’s the only thing that will stop us now! And do it quick, too! I’ll have a new rudder if we ever get out of this alive!”
Ned, with desperate haste, was opening the gas valves. With an angry hiss the vapor rushed from the condensers it had so recently entered, and began filling the lifting-bags. Still the Comet plunged down toward the ocean, in which could still be seen that strange creature. It was circling about now, as though waiting for the destruction of the motorship.