CHAPTER XXIII

ON THE SHIP ONCE MORE

"We are in for it now!" cried Dave, as he watched the approach of the two war canoes loaded down with savages.

"It certainly looks like it," muttered Captain Broadbeam, grimly. "Well, a man can die but once, and we had better fight to the bitter end."

"That is true," came from Doctor Barrell. "But I am afraid that three against two dozen or more will make a poor showing."

The savages now became aware that they were discovered, and they set up a fierce shout. Those at the long sweeps began to row more swiftly than ever, as if thirsting for the blood of the whites.

"If we only had a gun or two," said Dave. "But we haven't a thing."

"Only the oars, and they'll make poor weapons," answered Captain Broadbeam, "I'm afraid it's all up with us, lad. We must look for the worst."

"Can't we outdistance them by rowing?"

"I think not."

"But we might reach shore again and take to the jungle. That will be better than being slaughtered on the ocean."

"Yes, yes, let us try for the shore!" burst out the doctor. "We have at least a fighting chance of reaching it."

As quickly as possible the rowboat was turned about, and its bow pointed to a distant headland. All pulled with might and main, the perspiration pouring down their faces and backs.

But it was useless. The war canoes crept closer and closer.

And now, as if to make doubly sure of them, there suddenly appeared upon the beach another crowd of natives, brandishing knives and war clubs.

The din was hideous, and the cry from the shore was echoed and re-echoed by the savages in the canoes.

They felt certain that the whites would become their prisoners.

Captain, doctor, and young diver looked at each other with blanched faces.

They felt that their last hour on earth was at hand.

Swiftly the war canoes came closer.

Then of a sudden something happened which came as a great shock to our friends and as an even greater shock to the savages.

Boom!

Dull and sullen a ship's gun boomed out and a shot sped across the bow of the foremost of the canoes.

"A shot!" ejaculated Captain Broadbeam, leaping to his feet. "What can it mean?"

"It means that there is a steamship in sight!" cried Dave. "See the smoke around the bend of the island. Here she comes!"

"It is the Swallow!" came from the doctor. "Heaven be praised!"

The physician was right; it was indeed the Swallow, and now another shot boomed out.

The ball struck the stern of the leading war canoe, and the craft began immediately to fill with water.

The yelling was terrific, for the natives were taken completely by surprise.

As the first of the canoes began to sink, those on board leaped into the water.

Some started for the other canoe, but the majority swam toward shore, thinking that the second craft would soon be served like the first.

But the natives on the shore were not yet daunted, and with another yell they let fly a shower of arrows at those in the rowboat.

"Down!" cried Captain Broadbeam, and all hurled themselves to the bottom of the craft.

It was well that they did this, for the arrows must otherwise have killed one or more of them.

Boom! A third shot from the Swallow was now directed at those on shore.

The aim was a good one and two natives were seen to pitch forward, to rise no more.

Seeing this, the others took to their heels with all speed and disappeared into the jungle.

It was the last of the attack upon our friends.

The savages had had enough of the contest and now thought only of saving themselves.

The second canoe was beached in a great hurry and the occupants disappeared as if by magic.

As soon as they felt free to do so, our friends resumed their oars and rowed in the direction of the Swallow.

On the deck they saw the lieutenant of the ship, Amos Fearless, and several other familiar faces.

Soon the steamship and the rowboat came together, and then Bob and Pat Stoodles were hoisted aboard the larger craft. Dave, the captain, and the doctor followed.

"Father!" cried Dave, and rushed into his parent's arms.

Amos Fearless could not speak, but his face showed plainly his great joy.

"And how are you, father?" went on his son.

"He is doing nicely," answered the first mate of the Swallow. "But his speech has not yet come back to him."

Bob and Pat Stoodles were carried to staterooms, and here Doctor Barrell proceeded to minister to their comforts through the stock in his medicine chest.

While this was going on Captain Broadbeam started in to learn if Pete Rackley had shown himself.

"Why, certainly; he is on board," said the mate. "He's a poor, down-hearted cast-away, isn't he?"

"He's a rascal!" burst out Captain Broadbeam. "Where is he? I'll put him in irons!"

A search was at once instituted and at last Pete Rackley was found hiding in the forecastle.

He was the picture of misery when brought before Captain Broadbeam.

"It's all a mistake," he said, in a trembling voice. "All a mistake."

"It is no mistake," said the captain, sternly. "Dave Fearless is here to testify against you."

"But—but——"

"You need make no more denials, Rackley. You have played the game and lost. Now answer me truthfully: Have you done any harm as yet to the Swallow?"

"No! no!"

"You are telling the truth?"

"I am—I swear it."

"I will order a strict investigation. If anything is wrong——"

And the captain ended with a stern shake of his forefinger at the rascal.

Pete Rackley was then bound and cast into the brig of the ship.

The assistant engineer was closely questioned, and he said Rackley had been seen frequently around the engine room.

Then the entire machinery of the ship was inspected.

At one point several bolts were found filed almost in two.

At another point an oil cup was broken, so that the part might get dry and thus cause considerable delay.

These things were all mended, and Captain Broadbeam ordered that Rackley be chained up in the brig because of his falsehoods.

The day was spent in the vicinity of the island, looking for the Raven, but that vessel failed to appear.

By the next morning both Bob and Pat Stoodles were pronounced out of danger by the doctor.

A conference was held and it was decided that the Swallow should now proceed with all haste to the spot where the Happy Hour had gone down with the treasure.

Nothing of special interest happened for several days.

Bob Vilett grew better rapidly and was able to be around at the end of a week.

Pat Stoodles' recovery was slower. But to the satisfaction of the friends he had made it was seen that the Irish castaway's mind was becoming clearer every day.

"He'll be as clear-headed as any of us when he gets on his feet once more," said Doctor Barrell, and his statement proved correct.

Day after day went by and the Swallow kept steadily to her course.

Amos Fearless was now as well as ever excepting for his voice.

He could occasionally speak a few words in a hoarse whisper, but that was all; and he would sometimes break down in the midst of a sentence.

This grieved Dave very much, but he could do nothing for the sufferer.

"It is time alone can do it," said Doctor Barrell, encouragingly.

But Dave was downcast. What if his father should never be able to talk again as of old?

"I'd rather let the fortune go than have that happen," he told himself, over and over again. He was afraid that the affliction might grow worse, so that his parent would not be able to make any sound at all!

CHAPTER XXIV

ATTACKED BY A FIRE FISH

"And this is the spot where the Happy Hour went down?"

"It is, according to the markings on the chart, Dave."

"And how deep do you reckon the ocean is at this point?"

"The chart says 12,500 feet—a little over two miles."

"It is a deep distance. Regular divers could never make it. They would be crushed to death by the mere pressure of the water."

"I have thought the matter over, Dave, and I think it will be best for both you and your father to go down only a half-mile the first day. Then, if that is successful, you can go a little deeper each day, until the bottom is reached. And you will have to use the diving bell at all times."

"I know that. And if we leave the diving bell at all it will have to be in those new steel-ribbed diving suits we had made in Washington especially for this trip," concluded the young diver.

The Swallow lay at rest on the broad bosom of the mighty Pacific Ocean.

Nothing had been seen of the Raven, and at present not a sign of a strange sail showed itself anywhere.

It was high noon, and Captain Broadbeam had just concluded his calculations to prove that he was at the very spot which was said to be that where the Happy Hour had sunk.

Dave looked thoughtfully over the side, into the greenish waves, lit for a depth of only thirty or forty feet below the surface.

What fortune did that silent body of water hold for his father and himself?

A touch on his elbow aroused him, and turning, he found his parent standing beside him.

Amos Fearless could not say a word, but he motioned to the water and smiled. Then he spoke to Dave in the sign language of the divers.

"This is the spot," he signed. "How soon does Captain Broadbeam calculate to let us go down?"

"I think to-morrow," replied Dave.

A long talk followed, by word of mouth on Dave's part and by signs on the part of the parent.

It was a sad sight to see Amos Fearless try to talk with his mouth and fail. His tongue would cling to his teeth and refuse to budge. At last he turned away with tears in his eyes and Dave was equally affected.

The remainder of the day was spent in getting the diving bell into shape for use.

This was inspected with great care, for it was understood by all that the two divers, father and son, would be taking their lives in their hands in going down such an immense distance as contemplated.

"It's queer we don't see anything of the Raven," said Dave to Captain Broadbeam.

"Perhaps Lemuel Hankers knows enough to keep out of our reach," was the answer. "He may know that we—or rather, you—are on board and have exposed Pete Rackley, and he may wish to keep his own head out of danger."

"That must be it."

"If Hankers came near us I would be apt to make it hot for him."

"And I'll do the same."

It was a clear day overhead when Dave and his father entered the diving bell and were hoisted over the side of the Swallow.

Slowly the immense cable unwound itself, letting the bell down deeper and deeper.

Soon the light of day was shut out and all became as black as night and as cold as a tomb.

Amos Fearless turned on the electric current and the diving bell sent out several rays of light.

The light attracted numerous fish, who swam up swiftly, only to stop just as fast and gaze stupidly through the glass of the bell's sides.

There was one fish in particular, commonly called the electric-light fish, the scientific name being linophyrne lucifer, which had what looked like an electric light on the end of its sharp snout and a rope-like appendage under its lower jaw. It had a square mouth and sharp, curved teeth, and a look which was enough to give an ordinary mortal a chill.

"We must secure a specimen of that fish," said Amos Fearless, in the sign language. "The captain and the doctor spoke about it particularly."

"And also a specimen of that long, thin thing," answered Dave, pointing to what is familiarly called in Borneo the ray of fire. The ray of fire is a white fish four or five feet long and less than three inches thick. It has silver scales which flash out like fire whenever it swims quickly.

Soon they had reached the half-mile limit, and the diving bell came to a standstill.

Then a door in the bell was opened and they prepared to spread out a strong net with which to catch what was desired.

It was by no means an easy task—indeed, the most of a diver's labors are very hard, and before the net was properly adjusted both Dave and his parent were almost winded.

Then they moved the diving bell around, from one spot to another, on the lookout for the electric-light fish and the ray of fire, so called.

Soon they saw one of the electric-light fish in the vicinity.

They had brought some bait along, and this was tied up in the net.

The monstrous fish scented the bait and came forward slowly and cautiously.

He was hungry, yet he did not altogether like the appearance of the diving bell.

He had never seen a live human being before, although he had feasted upon the body of more than one dead sailor, coming down with some wreck.

Amos Fearless and Dave remained as motionless as statues.

Nearer and nearer came the electric-light fish.

The light on his snout blinked and winked in an odd fashion and was once or twice turned upon Dave and his father.

Then, like a flash, the monstrous fish swept into the net after the bait.

Snap! went the line attached to the top of the net, and Dave and his father began pulling the net shut with might and main.

They had to work like lightning, for, feeling that something was wrong, the electric-light fish began to thrash around at a lively rate.

The net swept to and fro as the fish darted hither and thither in its efforts to escape.

Bang!

Up against the diving bell came net and fish with a shock that threatened to shiver the glass into a million fragments.

"Shove away!" motioned Amos Fearless to his son, and Dave caught hold of a rod to which the net was fastened and the net was placed at a distance from the bell.

At last the wonderful electric-light fish was a prisoner in the net. It still continued to thrash around, and fearful that he might break loose in spite of the strength of the net, Amos Fearless signaled to those on the ship to haul up the prize.

Slowly the net ascended until it was out of sight and only the occasional blinking of the fish's light lit up the path he was taking to the outside world. Then even this died out.

"A good haul," said Amos Fearless, in the sign language. "Now for that ray of fire and our day's work will be done. And I will be glad of it."

"So will I be glad," answered Dave. "We'll want several days down here in order to get used to deep-sea work once more."

The diving bell was supplied with a second net—smaller and of a much tighter mesh, and this they now put out in the hope of catching one of the rays of fire.

Two were in the vicinity and eying the bell and those inside with much curiosity.

"Nasty, snaky-looking things," observed Dave, as he helped to bait the net. "And they look wicked, too."

"All of the deep-sea fish are wicked-looking," was the answer. "I never saw anything different."

They waited for fully ten minutes before one of the strange fishes came up to the net.

Then it darted inside and began biting at the bait.

"We've got him!" cried Dave, and began to pull on the string which shut the net up.

At once the ray of fire tried to escape.

But it was too late, for the top of the net closed tight just as he shoved his nose against it.

Then an odd thing happened.

The fish began to lash around in a circle, emitting a strange sound like the roll of distant thunder.

Sparks flew from its tail which dropped down into the water like the sparks from a Roman candle.

"What a beautiful sight!" began Dave, when of a sudden he heard a swishing through the water.

He turned, to behold his father in a truly perilous situation.

The second ray of fire had come up and wound itself around Amos Fearless' neck.

Its hard body was like a wand of rubber, and unless the fish were released the old diver would speedily be strangled to death!

CHAPTER XXV

LEFT TO PERISH

For one moment Dave Fearless' heart seemed to stop beating.

The sight before him was a terrible one.

Vainly was his father struggling to free himself from the deadly embrace of the creature which had attacked him.

There were three coils of the ray of fire around the old diver's neck and these were slowly but surely choking the life out of the man.

His eyes were bulging from their sockets—his tongue stuck from his mouth. In a few seconds more all would be over.

Close at hand stuck a knife in a case on the wall of the diving bell.

With a leap Dave secured the blade. Another leap and he was at his parent's side.

But how should he attack the strange, snake-like fish? A false cut and he might stab his father in the throat.

But he must act, or it would be too late.

With a cautious movement of the knife he slit the fish along the back.

There was a strange hissing and the ray of fire swung loose the end of its tail.

It caught Dave around the wrist, holding that member as in a vise.

At first the youth was inclined to drop the knife, but he managed to hold on.

Then began an intensely interesting struggle between boy and fish.

Dave tried his best to twist the hand around so that he might cut the fish a second time.

He brought up his other hand, in an endeavor to transfer the knife, but as quick as a flash the ray of fire unloosened itself and caught both wrists.

In its own way it was fighting for its mate, a prisoner in the net.

Dave's two hands were now drawn tightly to his father's throat, as if the horrible monster of the deep meant to make the boy strangle his own parent!

"I must get my hand free!" thought the young diver.

Again he struggled, the sweat standing out on his forehead inside of his diving helmet.

At last he managed to turn one wrist and got the point of the knife again into the fish's body.

He cut and twisted as best he could and felt the ray of fire quiver with pain and rage.

The fish could not stand the cutting and presently raised its head in order to make a new move.

Exerting all of his strength, Dave made a slash at the head and cut into the light on the fish's snout.

A rush of phosphorescent blood followed, and on the instant all of the light died out in the creature's body.

Again Dave made a cut, striking deep into the fish, so deeply in fact that he made an ugly scratch on his father's neck.

This last blow was too much for the ray of fire, and slowly it fell away and floated off, Dave did not know to where.

Freed from his captor, Amos Fearless sank in a heap at the door of the diving bell.

Was he dead?

In frantic haste the youth pulled himself and his parent into the bell and shut the door.

Then he gave a quick signal to be raised to the surface.

There was no immediate answer, and a fresh alarm took possession of the young diver.

"What does this mean? Why don't they pull us up?" he asked himself.

Generally the life-line, as it is termed, is watched constantly, and every signal of a diver is acted upon on the instant.

Were this not so, many a man of the deep would go down never to come up.

A minute went by and still the signal remained unanswered.

To the boy the time seemed an age.

Feeling that his parent might die before being brought up, he began to empty the diving bell of water.

There was a fresh-air hose attached to the bell, and as the water was forced out the air came in, until at last the bell was as dry as a hogshead that has been emptied.

The moment the water was out, Dave began to work upon his diving suit.

It was no easy job to get it off without assistance.

Generally one diver helped the other, but he could obtain no aid from that form now lying stiff and motionless upon the floor of the diving bell.

At last his arms and his head were free and he turned his attention to his parent.

He unscrewed the helmet and then the rest of the old diver's suit.

Amos Fearless was almost black in the face and there was an ugly mark around his throat, mingling with the blood from the scratch Dave had caused.

Putting his ear to his parent's breast, the boy made out that his father still breathed faintly.

In the diving bell was some liquor, to be used for restorative purposes, and some of this Dave poured down his father's throat.

But still the man did not stir, and Dave began to rub his hands and move his arms, that his lungs might again get into working order.

Ten minutes passed and at last Amos Fearless gave a slight gasp.

Taking this for a good sign, Dave continued his labors and was presently rewarded by seeing his father open his eyes and shudder.

"Father! are you all right now?" asked the boy.

The only reply was a groan. But then Amos Fearless gave a long breath, and Dave knew that he was saved.

"You had a narrow escape, father," he said. "The light fish tried to strangle you. I had to cut him to pieces with the knife. I cut you a little on the neck, but that couldn't be helped."

Amos Fearless made a feeble sign. "I know—brave boy," was what he said, and caught his son by the hand.

In the meantime the ray of fire in the net was still threshing around on the outside of the bell.

But to this fish they now paid no attention.

"Let us go up," signed Mr. Fearless, after a pause of a few minutes.

"I have signaled," was the son's answer. "I will signal again."

He pulled the cord several times in lively fashion.

Then he waited—five seconds—ten seconds—a full minute. And still the diving bell did not move.

"They have given up watching the lifeline," he reasoned. "How careless! I'll give Captain Broadbeam a talking to when they do haul us up."

"Something must be wrong," said the father, in his sign language. "Captain Broadbeam would not forget us in this fashion."

Slowly the minutes went by and each instant father and son grew more anxious.

They could not ascend of themselves, nor could they leave the diving bell and float to the surface.

Had they left the bell without their suits the water would have crushed them, for the pressure was enormous at this distance under the surface.

The air in the diving bell was anything but pure, and now of a sudden it stopped coming in altogether.

"We are lost!" cried Dave. "We shall be smothered to death!"

"I cannot believe Captain Broadbeam has forgotten us," signed Amos Fearless. "As I said before, something must be wrong!"

The old diver was right; something was very wrong on board of the Swallow.

While the two divers were at work under the surface of the ocean, a wild cry had arisen on board of the ship, a cry which thrilled everyone who heard it to the heart.

It came from the cook's galley and was quickly taken up on all sides.

"Fire! fire! The ship is on fire!"

The report was true. Some fat on the cook's stove had boiled over and taken fire, and now the burning fat was flowing in all directions.

It looked as if the Swallow and all on board of her were doomed!

CHAPTER XXVI

THE BATTLE OF THE FISHES

"Fire! fire! fire!"

This cry, echoing throughout the Swallow, is the most dreadful that sailors on the high seas know.

What hope is there for those on board of a ship going down in mid-ocean, thousands of miles from land?

"We must put out that fire!" came from Captain Broadbeam. "Man the fire hose and send word to the engine room to turn on the water!"

His orders were obeyed as quickly as possible.

Yet everything takes time, and before the hose could be brought into play the cook's galley was a mass of flames from beginning to end.

The wind was blowing the sparks directly forward, so the captain had the ship swung round, that the fire might be carried largely over the side.

A bucket corps was formed and they, too, poured all the water possible on the conflagration.

It was fierce, hot work, and for some time it looked as if the fire would get the best of the workers and destroy the Swallow.

Small wonder then that Amos Fearless and Dave were for the time being forgotten.

Ten minutes went by—twenty minutes—and both began to grow desperate.

"We must perish!" groaned Dave.

Amos Fearless shook his head, dismally.

Both became too weak to stand up, and sank on the floor of the diving bell.

The air was now stale and made them sleepy.

Gradually Dave's eyes closed.

He tried to arouse himself, but the effort was a failure.

It was the beginning of the sleep of death, and the young diver knew it!

He caught his father's hand and a warm grasp was exchanged in silence.

After that all became as a dream to the young diver.

He thought he was out in the ocean and that numerous fierce fish were swimming close to him.

Then one large fish swallowed him and he found himself cut off from all air.

He fought desperately and at last cut a hole in the fish's side and stepped out into the upper world.

Oh, how good the fresh air tasted. He filled his lungs and took breath after breath—and then——

Dave opened his eyes and stared vacantly around him. He was on the deck of the Swallow and Doctor Barrell was bending over him, a look of deep anxiety on the kindly face.

"Dave, how do you feel now!" came in anxious tones. "Can you breathe?"

He could not answer excepting to take a long breath; but he now understood the situation. He had been hauled up to the Swallow's deck and was saved! Then of a sudden he became unconscious again.

Quarter of an hour later Dave found himself sitting up and swallowing some medicine Doctor Barrell was forcing into his mouth. He still felt very weak, and when he tried to stand, all swam before his eyes.

"You must keep quiet, lad," said the doctor. "You have had a narrow escape from death."

"My father——" began Dave. He could say no more.

"He was brought up with you, of course."

"And is he—is he——"

"He is slowly recovering, but of course he is older than you and not so strong, and it will, consequently, take longer."

"But he will get well?"

"I think so."

After that Dave was silent for a long while. Then Captain Broadbeam came in, his face covered with smoke and grime.

"I suppose you thought we had deserted you," said the captain. "We had a hot time of it, I can tell you."

"A hot time? What do you mean?"

"Don't you know the ship has been afire, lad?"

"No."

"Well, it has been, and that's why we didn't haul you up before. I was afraid we were all bound for Davy Jones' locker, sure."

Of course, Dave was surprised and he listened to the particulars of the fire with interest.

"The galley is burned off clean and clear," said the captain, "and we've got an ugly hole in the forward deck. But otherwise the ship is all right."

The remainder of the day was spent in cleaning up the muss, and then the ship's carpenter went to work, with several sailor assistants, to build a new galley and mend the burned deck.

It was several days before Dave felt able to do any more diving, and even then it was only the thought of locating the sunken treasure that made him go down.

Amos Fearless was too weak to do anything, so Dave had to go down alone.

"Be sure and pull me up," said the young diver, as he was about to enter the diving bell.

"I will see to that," replied Amos Fearless, in his sign language. "Don't stay down too long."

Down and down into the dark and cold waters of the Pacific sank the diving bell.

The trip before had been about half a mile; this time Dave intended to go down twice that distance.

If this trip was successful he was resolved, on the next day, weather permitting, to go down to the very bottom, two miles below the surface.

After what seemed a journey without end the diving bell came to a stop.

The mile limit had been reached.

The young diver turned on the electric lights and gazed around him, curiously.

He gave a start of surprise, and not without reason.

The waters were no longer dark and black.

There was a peculiar glow of light coming up from somewhere below, and in the water floated something closely resembling smoke or clouds.

"What did this mean!"

"It's like another world," he thought. "And what strange fish!"

But then he caught sight of something which filled him with alarm.

A number of small fish had come up around the diving bell and were now swarming all over it, inside and out.

Each fish was less than six inches long, but there were hundreds of them darting hither and thither, churning up the water as before, and emitting a strange, hissing sound.

He tried to get back to the diving bell, but found the effort a failure.

The fish swam against him, plunging and leaping, and finally turned him completely over.

He was in the power of a new enemy, and what the end of this adventure would be there was no telling.

The fish were indeed curious—some long and thin, others short and fat, but all with something extremely unusual in their makeup.

One fish had horns on its head, another had wings like those of a bird, and many had feathers instead of scales on their bodies.

And then came a fish shaped very much like a long, spiral spring, with a square-looking head and horns all of two feet long just over his eyes, which set out like two yellow and white eggs.

"I must try and get you, my beauty," thought the young diver, and prepared to put out the net for that purpose.

He had to work with care, being alone, and it took considerable time before he opened the diving bell and let in the water.

The first thing that struck him when he felt the water on him was that it was no longer cold, but warm—even warmer than at the surface.

This was not unpleasant, but he could not help but wonder how much hotter it might be at the very bottom.

"This part of the ocean may be over a submarine volcano," he reasoned. "If that is so it will be boiling at the bottom, and to get to the wreck will be impossible."

At last his net was set and he baited it with care.

Then he waited.

Several small fish came up and nibbled at his bait, but not the spiral fish he was after.

"He's a shy one," thought Dave. "He's not going to be caught if he knows it."

But at last the young diver was rewarded by seeing two of the spiral fish approaching.

One apparently urged the other on, until both came into the net and began to chew at the bait, which was purposely very tough.

With all speed Dave set to work to shut the net.

This was no easy task for a single person, and in order to accomplish it the young diver had to step outside of the diving bell.

He was just finishing up the task when a strange rushing behind him caused him to turn around.

At first he could see but little, for the water behind him was churned up into a milk-white foam. Then he saw a great mass of little fishes pressing toward him.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE RIVAL DIVERS

"Gosh, but this is something new!"

So thought Dave Fearless as he tried to pass the little fish in order to get into the diving bell.

But the little chaps were both frisky and powerful and got in his way continually.

They smelt of his legs, his body and his head, and then each gave him a resounding slap with the tail.

It was like a hundred tack hammers playing a tattoo over his entire body.

Never had the young diver been in such a peculiar position before.

At last he hit out straight ahead of him.

It was like striking into a mass of jelly.

The little fish flew in all directions, only to return the moment the young diver's arm was hauled back.

Slowly but surely, however, he got closer to the diving bell.

At last he gained the door and hauled himself inside by main strength.

The bell was full of the tiny fish, and he had literally to squeeze them out in order to squeeze himself in.

Once in the bell he hardly knew what to do next.

To shut the door under the circumstances was out of the question.

Yet he could not remain below the surface forever.

But while he was meditating upon the unexpected turn of affairs some other fish came to his aid.

They were long, fat fellows, with stomachs on them resembling balloons.

There were a score or more of them, and they began to gobble down the little fish as rapidly as they could swallow them.

A fight ensued between the little fish and the big fish, and in the end nearly all of the fish of both sorts left the vicinity of the diving bell for parts unknown.

Realizing what was going on, Dave watched his chance and when only a few of each kind of fish remained in the diving bell he shut the door.

Then he began to pump out the water, and at the same time signaled to those on the ship to raise him to the surface.

"A splendid haul!" cried Doctor Barrell, on examining his strange catch. "Two spiral whipsnaps, to use the vulgar name, and half a dozen fish which are new to science."

Captain Broadbeam had taken up one of the little fish and was examining it with interest.

The fish was dead, having been cut open during the struggle in the diving bell.

"He's got something inside of him that don't belong there, I reckon," said the captain. "Creation, look here!"

And he held up—a small gold coin!

"A gold coin!" cried Dave. "A Chinese piece, too!"

"You are right," said Doctor Barrell.

"Perhaps it came from the sunken treasure," put in Amos Fearless, who stood near.

"Perhaps."

"Then the treasure must be down here, at the bottom of the ocean," added Dave.

"It's not unlikely," said the doctor. "Although such a fish might swim a long distance with such a coin in his insides."

While the party was talking the matter over, and Doctor Barrell was preparing to place the spiral fish in a safe place, there came a cry from the lookout:

"Sail oh!"

"Where away?" cried Captain Broadbeam.

"Dead ahead, sir."

"Can you make her out?"

"A steamer, sir."

"Perhaps it is the Raven," said Dave. And his heart gave a leap.

Slowly the newcomer came closer until, at noon, she was within hailing distance.

She was really the Raven and she came up boldly, with Lemuel Hankers, Bart, and several others on her deck.

The Raven would have gained the spot several days before, but an unexpected breakdown of her machinery had caused a delay.

The wait was maddening to Lemuel Hankers and his son, yet their rage did them no good.

The Raven came to a standstill when within hailing distance of the Swallow.

"Raven, ahoy!" shouted Captain Broadbeam, through his speaking trumpet.

"Ahoy, the Swallow!" came back from Captain Nesik.

"You're a pretty set of rascals!" burst out the honest commander of the Government vessel.

"Don't talk that way to us!" retorted Captain Nesik.

"Why didn't you rescue us from the savages?"

"We were running on a reef and had to look after our ship," was the lame excuse.

"You're a set of rascals!" burst out Dave Fearless, and he shook his fist at those on the Raven.

"Don't call me a rascal!" ejaculated Lemuel Hankers.

"But you are one, and your son is another," came from Dave. "The mask is off, and in the future you had better keep your distance, or there will be trouble for you."

"What are you doing here?" demanded Bart, leaning on the rail.

"You know well enough."

"You are after the sunken treasure."

"If we are it is because it belongs to my father and myself," retorted Dave.

"We are on the high seas," came from Lemuel Hankers. "The treasure was abandoned, and it will belong to whoever succeeds in raising it—if it can be raised."

"By gum! I reckon he's right there," muttered Captain Broadbeam.

"Well, we intend to raise it, so you had better clear out," said Dave, boldly.

At this there arose a howl of derision from those on the Raven.

"Go ahead and do as you please," came from Lemuel Hankers. "But let me tell you, you have got to have pretty slick divers to get ahead of those I have hired."

"Whom have you?" questioned Captain Broadbeam, curiously.

"I am not afraid to let you know—Cal Vixen and Sam Walton."

At this announcement the faces of Captain Broadbeam, Amos Fearless, and Dave fell.

Cal Vixen and Sam Walton were known to be the best divers on the Pacific coast.

What Amos Fearless and his son had done on the Atlantic shore for the Government, Cal Vixen and Sam Walton had accomplished on the Pacific shore.

"Rivals for fair!" murmured Dave.

"Yes, my lad," answered Captain Broadbeam. "I reckon it will be nip an' tuck between ye!" And he shook his head doubtfully.

There was a pause in the talk.

"Have you a castaway on board?" questioned Lemuel Hankers, at length.

"No, but we've got a prisoner named Pete Rackley," answered Captain Broadbeam, with, a chuckle.

"A prisoner!"

"Exactly—and you know what for, Lemuel Hankers, you old fraud!" said Dave.

"I? I know nothing."

"You know everything. Your well-laid plot failed to work, and Pete Rackley shall remain a prisoner until we can hand him over to the United States authorities."

A wordy quarrel followed, and presently the two rival divers came forward.

"We are going down to-morrow," said Vixen, the leader of the pair. "If you go down, mind and keep your distance."

"You mind and keep yours!" retorted Dave. "Remember, neither I nor my father can be scared by you."

"We have been hired to bring up that treasure and we mean to do it."

"I expect to do the same thing—and you shall not stop me."

"All right. Only look out, or you'll be running up a lot of trouble on your back!" came from Vixen, and then he and his mate fell back, and the two ships drifted apart, out of talking distance.

"They mean business," said Dave, to Captain Broadbeam.

"Yes, and they will cause you a lot of trouble if they can," replied the captain. "Watch them closely, every time they come near you."

The next day the hunt for the sunken treasure began in earnest.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE DEMONS OF THE DEEP

As early in the day as possible Captain Broadbeam made another astronomical calculation and worked out the position of the Swallow on his set of charts.

It was found that the ship lay about one hundred yards to the westward of where the Happy Hour was reported to have gone down.

This was not much, but the captain immediately gave orders that the ship be brought to the correct position.

"You'll have work enough locating her as it is," said the captain. "More than likely the ocean current has shifted her considerably."

Luckily Amos Fearless was now feeling much better, having quite recovered from his experience at the time of the fire on the ship.

With the Raven on the scene, it was decided by father and son that the diving bell should be taken directly to the ocean's bottom, if the thing could be accomplished.

"I know we are running a risk," said the old diver, in his sign language, "but we must be the first to discover the Happy Hour, no matter what the cost. To suffer defeat would kill me."

By ten o'clock in the morning the diving bell was over the side and father and son had entered it.

Those on the Raven were also getting out a diving bell, and Vixen and Walton were busy overhauling their deep-sea outfits.

It was indeed to be a race for the treasure.

Soon Dave and his parent had left the outside world behind and were going down and down into the mighty ocean's depths.

On this occasion it had been agreed not to look for anything but the sunken treasure ship; consequently, the fish net and several other similar appliances had been left behind.

In their places the diving bell contained several tools for digging and hauling and also several under-water firearms, for use against a possible enemy. In addition to the firearms, father and son had provided themselves with long and sharp knives.

"There is no telling what we may run across away down there," said Amos Fearless, in his sign language. "We are taking our lives in our hands, to my way of thinking."

And what he said was true—as events speedily proved.

Soon they passed through the darker portion of the ocean and knew that the first mile of the downward journey had been covered.

Then those above lowered more slowly and watched keenly for the first signal that danger might be encountered by those below.

"See, it is growing lighter," said Dave, presently, and turned off the electric lights.

His father had his hand upon the glass side of the diving bell.

"It is also growing warmer," motioned the parent, in his sign language.

A mile and a half had been covered and now the waters of the ocean were so clear and light that they could see for a hundred feet about them.

The water glistened and sparkled like diamonds as it washed against the sides of the diving bell.

"The light is growing brighter," observed Dave, presently. "Isn't it wonderful!"

They now felt they were approaching the bottom of the Pacific, for the diving bell was moving very slowly. Soon they saw great, ribbon-like grasses, the ends floating upward past the diving bell.

At this Amos Fearless shook his head.

"We don't want to get caught in those grasses," he signed. "They may prove worse than ropes of wire."

Suddenly a slight jar on the bottom of the diving bell told them that the machine had struck something. It no longer descended, but wabbled from side to side.

At once Amos Fearless signaled through the air-tube to stop lowering. Then a small glass trap was opened in the diving bell's bottom.

Through this they saw what had caused the machine to stop. It was caught in the top-most branches of a submarine tree. Below them, upon all sides, was a regular submarine forest.

The trees were two to three hundred feet tall, twisted and gnarled in all directions, with branches stretching out of their sight.

Some of the trees boasted of most gorgeous flowers, while from others floated what looked like luscious fruits.

Below the trees could be seen strange mosses and sponges, of every imaginable hue and shape, and between them bushes and creeping vines.

"This is a submarine paradise!" whispered Dave. "Did you ever dream of anything so lovely?"

"Lovely—and dangerous!" came from Amos Fearless. And then he added: "I see nothing of the Happy Hour."

He was right—there was no sign of a sunken ship anywhere.

"Let us take the diving bell in a grand circle around this spot," suggested Dave.

His father agreed, providing the thing could be accomplished without positive danger.

To move around, they had to pull the machine along from one tree-top to another by means of the crab-like claws attached to the bottom.

The diving bell worked like a charm and soon a distance of several hundred yards had been covered.

Sometimes the crab-like claws would slip on the tree-tops and at others the trees would break off with a dull, snapping report. When this would happen the sap flowing from the tree would be pure yellow in color.

In order to see at a great distance Amos Fearless now adjusted a powerful light which had been brought along, using a small reflector behind it.

Suddenly Dave let out a cry:

"The rival divers!"

He was right. At a great distance he had seen the other diving bell coming down.

It contained Vixen and Walton. Bart Hankers had said he was coming down with them, but had backed out at the last moment, much to the divers' satisfaction, for they had counted that he would only be in their way.

As swiftly as the other diving bell had come into view, it now faded from sight beyond another portion of the great submarine forest.

"They are close upon our heels," muttered Dave, and again Amos Fearless shook his head, doubtfully.

At last the diving bell gained the edge of the forest and came to a rest upon one of the banks of moss of many colors.

A short distance away the bank sloped downward into a sort of valley.

Here it was darker, and what there was at the bottom of the valley there was no telling without an investigation.

Should they leave the diving bell upon an exploring tour?

They debated the subject for several minutes.

It would be a risky thing to do, although as yet they had encountered no strange fish or marine monsters at this great depth.

With care they adjusted their diving suits and then armed themselves with their knives and submarine guns.

Then the door of the bell was opened slowly.

The pressure of the water became enormous and their suits of steel creaked as if to crash in upon them, as a shell can squeeze in upon the inside of an egg.

But they had calculated upon all this, and the suits held as expected.

When they stepped out upon the moss they found it as soft and yielding as a thick velvet carpet.

They advanced with caution toward the edge of the slope before them, casting their eyes continually upon all sides for the first sign of danger.

They had thus gone a distance of two hundred feet when Dave pointed to a mound to their right.

He had seen something strange moving among the moss.

Of a sudden the moss was uplifted like a blanket and the young diver fell back in amazement.

Before him stood a monster as startling as it was horrible.

Whether it was fish, beast, or demon, he could not tell, but it was certainly so awful that his very heart appeared to stop beating as he gazed upon it.

It had a long, round body, fat and blubbery, with two legs in the center, two arms near the neck, and at the end the tail of a fish.

The head was shaped like a huge pear, with eyes blinking savagely from either side of a nose which was as long and pointed as a cow's horn.

The mouth of the demon was wide open, showing a double row of sharp, bluish teeth and a tongue covered with yellow slime.

All told, the creature was at least ten feet long, and when it stood up it towered well over the heads of the two divers.

On the instant Dave raised his gun, but his father was before him, and a bullet from Amos Fearless' submarine gun took the demon squarely in the breast.

Hardly had the bullet reached its mark than the demon uttered a roar which rang in the divers' ears like thunder.

As if by magic the roar was answered from half a dozen near-by places and the moss was flung right and left.

The demons of the ocean's bottom had been sleeping, and the roar had aroused them to a sense of danger.

They came walking and swimming up from every direction, and in a twinkle Amos Fearless and Dave found themselves surrounded and hopelessly cut off from the diving bell!