CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The First Test
There was no actual sound to which Tim could attribute his suddenawakening, but he was certain someone was in the control room besidePat for he could hear the steady breathing of his companion.
Tim forced sleep from his tired brain. He needed every faculty to meetthis emergency.
His right hand moved cautiously and his fingers closed around the hard,cold butt of his revolver. There was a slight scraping sound from thedense blackness at the base of the ladder which came down from the mainhatch and Tim wished for a flashlight. He didn't even know where theswitch which controlled the interior lights of the _S-18_ was located.
Only the slightest of shuffling sounds warned Tim that the intruder wascoming toward him. Evidently he was in his stocking feet.
Tim managed to free his legs from the folds of his blankets and hecrouched on the steel floor of the _S-18_, ready for whatever mighthappen.
The hatch which led to the main deck was visible for the sky outsidewas much lighter than the black interior of the submarine. In thiscircle Tim saw the head of a man peer into the control room. Unless hedid something at once, the _S-18_ soon might be swarming with unwantedvisitors.
Tim heard a slight grunt as the man coming toward him struck his headon the lower end of one of the periscopes. That was all Tim needed.Throwing his strength into the effort, he lunged forward, hisoutstretched arms enfolding the legs of the intruder. They went downwith a crash that brought a muffled cry of alarm from the man Tim hadtackled and a real shout of agony from Pat, on whom they had fallen.
"What's going on here?" cried Pat.
"I don't know," gasped Tim, "but someone turned off the light over thehatch and came down here. I just tackled him and there's another fellowat the hatch about ready to come down."
The man Tim had tackled recovered suddenly from the surprise attack andstruck out with a vigor that caught the flying reporter. A powerfulfoot struck Tim on the chest and sent him flying across the controlroom to land on the other side curled against a maze of pipes and valvewheels.
"Have you got him?" cried Pat.
"Not now," Tim replied. "He kicked me almost through the side of thistin fish. You try and get him."
"I'll get him all right," vowed Pat. "You keep the boy at the hatchfrom joining him and making this too much of a party."
Flame lighted the interior of the control room and their eardrums werealmost shattered by the deafening roar of a gun discharged at closerange. The man Tim had tackled was shooting at the sound of theirvoices.
"Never mind trying to get this fellow," called Pat, now safelyprotected by the bulkhead into the engine room. "We'll pick him offwhen he tries to return to the deck."
The answer to Pat's words were written in smoke and flame as theunknown intruder fired again.
Tim, watching the outline of the hatch against the sky, saw a headappear. He raised his gun and fired in the general direction of thehatch, more to scare the second man than to actually harm him. On theecho of the crash of his gun came a scream of pain and the headpromptly disappeared.
"Good shooting!" cried Pat. "Now we'll get this fellow. He's in a crossfire. Next time he shoots let him have it. I'll see if I can get aroundto the switch and turn on the lights. This party is going to end all ofa sudden."
Tim strained his senses to detect the spot where the gunman was hidden.He could hear cautious sounds but he didn't dare fire for fear ofhitting Pat. Tim edged near the ladder which led up to the hatch. As heneared it he became conscious of some one crawling up the ladder and helunged toward the shadowy form.
Just as Tim moved, the man on the ladder lashed out viciously with onefoot. The blow caught Tim squarely on the chin and he dropped to thedeck, out cold. His gun clattered from his nerveless hands and the manon the ladder leaped for the hatch just as the interior of the _S-18_blazed with light.
Pat, momentarily blinded by the glare, recovered in time to see thelegs of their assailant disappearing over the edge of the hatch andwith snap aim he sent a volley of shots crashing upward.
Feet pounded along the deck of the _S-18_ and Pat heard the suddensplashing of oars as a small boat pulled away from the hull of the subin great haste. Pursuit, he knew, was useless and he bent over Tim.
The flying reporter was recovering his senses, but he was still groggyfrom the sharp blow on his chin. His first thought was one of selfdefense and he struggled weakly to raise his fists and hammer at Pat.
"Snap out of it," said Pat, shaking Tim gently. "The show's all overand we're still in command of the fort."
Tim smiled a little sheepishly.
"Someone certainly landed a haymaker on me."
"You mean a No. 11 shoe connected with your chin at about sixty milesan hour," chuckled Pat. "A kick like that would have killed anyone butan Irishman."
Tim shook himself to make sure that he was still all together and gotto his feet. He was still a little shaky.
"You stay down here while I go on deck and see what it was all about,"said Pat. He climbed nimbly up the ladder and disappeared just as criessounded along the dock.
"On board the submarine," boomed a heavy voice. "What's the matter downthere?"
A beam of light cut through the night and outlined Pat as he stood onthe deck.
"Someone tried to board us and we had to call out our own riot squad,"yelled Pat. "Looks like everything is all right now and I don't thinkwe'll have any more visitors tonight."
Satisfied, the watchman returned and Pat called down for Tim to hand upanother bulb to replace the one which had been taken from the lightover the hatch.
"I'm sure we won't have any more callers," he said, "but this light maydiscourage them even though it didn't the first time. How in thedickens did you happen to wake up?"
"You might call it my 'news sense' being on the job," said Tim as herubbed his bruised chin. "The first thing I sensed was that the lightwas out. Then I knew someone was moving around in the control room andafter that I was almost too scared to move."
"Seems to me you did a pretty nice job of tackling, but the next timedon't bring your man down on top of me. It's an awful shock to awake inthe middle of the night and find a first class fight taking place rightin your midships."
Tim glanced at his wrist watch.
"It's one a.m.," he said. "What's on the schedule now?"
"We might as well try and get a little more sleep. I think thefireworks are over for tonight."
Pat rolled back into his blankets and a minute later Tim followed hiscompanion's action but where Pat was soon in a deep sleep, Tim remainedawake, thinking over the attack and the dangers of their long voyageinto the Caribbean. He was glad Commander Ford had decided to take aseaplane on the trip. It made him feel more comfortable for if anythinghappened to the _S-18_ on the treasure hunt, they might be able to getword of their plight to the world by using the seaplane.
Tim finally slept and when he awoke, sunlight was streaming downthrough the hatch and Commander Ford was climbing aboard.
"Fine pair of watchmen I left," he smiled.
"You left one mighty alert one," put in Pat, and he recounted theirexperiences of the night.
"Sladek is certainly losing no time in trying to hamper my plans," saidFord. "I imagine he'll attempt to trail us all of the way to the islandbut we may fool him if we decide to travel underwater for a few miles."
"But you couldn't do that with the plane on deck," protested Tim.
"We might release the plane and have you fly on ahead, meeting us atthe rendezvous on the island," suggested Ford.
If Tim thought his days on the _News_ had been busy, they were nothingcompared with the bustle of activity which settled down on the _S-18_.For his own part, he was busy testing the seaplanes at the Sea Kingfactory and he finally selected the craft which the sales manager hadrecommended. It was a three passenger job, light but sturdy andexceptionally easy to handle.
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nbsp; For the next week Tim went to the airplane plant daily to take specialinstructions in the handling of the plane and to learn the trick ofgetting off choppy water for there was no telling in what kind ofweather he might be called upon to make a flight.
The fuel tanks were enlarged to give the speedy craft a cruising radiusof a thousand miles and the pontoons were especially reinforced for therough work which Tim and his plane might encounter.
By the end of the week great changes had been effected in the hull ofthe _S-18_. Steel workers had cut out the special diving chamber in theforward torpedo room, the galley had been installed in the rearcompartment which was the crew's quarters, a special radio set capableof communicating instantly with the New York Journal office was inplace, and many other minor alterations necessary for the cruise hadbeen made. The crew was being increased daily, but it was not until thefirst mess was served on board that Tim had a chance to see themtogether. In all, sixteen men were to make the trip into the Caribbeanand Tim looked at them with interest as they sat around the table forthe evening meal.
At the head of the table was Commander Ford and at the other end PatReynolds. Tim sat at Pat's right. Ranged up and down each side were theother thirteen, George Gadd, the engineer, Fred Hanson, the chiefelectrician, Joe Gartner, old navy torpedoman and gunner, Charlie Gilland Russ Graham, deep sea divers, and their assistants, Earl Bell andRoy Gould.
Ike Green was the radio operator while Forman Gay, Erich Gaunt, SamSchneider, Al Hardy and Tom Grandrath were former submarine men whowould assist in the general operation of the submarine. With theexception of Pat, Tim and Ike Green, the radioman, and the divers, allof the others had served with Ford during the war. The divers and theirassistants were old navy men who could be relied upon and Tim knew thatCommander Ford was taking every precaution against any treachery amongmembers of his own crew.
It was a clean, hard-bitten crew that could be depended upon in anyemergency.
The Commander, Ford was discussing final plans.
"We're going down the sound for a trial run tomorrow morning. Ifeverything goes well, we'll start south the day after tomorrow."
Early the next morning lines were cast off and the _S-18_, pulsating tothe clicking of her powerful Diesels, was backed slowly away from theshipyard. A tug stood by to give any assistance needed, but the _S-18_cleared the yard and nosed slowly down river. Overhead a seaplanewheeled.
Tim was in the conning tower with Commander Ford and he pointed upward.
"That must be Sladek's plane, keeping track of us," nodded Ford. "Iunderstand his ship is ready to go at a moment's notice. He's gathereda crew of thirty of the toughest characters on the waterfront andpromised them all a good slice of the bullion if he gets it. KnowingSladek as I do, I wouldn't put much faith in his word if I were amember of that crew."
When the _S-18_ was clear of the lower bay, the warning bell soundedand everyone on deck went below. Hatches were made fast and everymember of the crew went to his station. For Tim there was nothing to dobut stand in the control room and watch the activities of the othersfor he was not experienced enough in submarine operation to be placedat one of the important posts.
Commander Ford's commands were crisp and alert. The Diesels were silentand only the faint humming of the big electric motors could be heard.Then the _S-18_ moved on a slight angle and Tim knew they were goingbelow. He had encountered a good many queer sensations in an airplane,but none quite so alarming as the one which gripped him now. He wasactually going under the surface with only the thin steel walls of thesubmarine to ward off the destructive force of the water.
Tim glanced around the control room. Commander Ford was standing withhis eyes glued to the periscope. Pat was at the main diving rudders.Forman Gay and Erich Gaunt were at the valves which controlled theballast tanks. All were silent, intent on their work.
"Are the forward ballast tanks flooded?" snapped the commander.
"Yes sir," replied Pat.
"How about the after tanks?"
"They're flooded."
"Then level off and hold her at forty feet."
The submarine resumed her even keel, but Tim knew they were forty feetbelow the surface.
Commander Ford left his post and visited each compartment, making surethat everything was functioning smoothly. When he returned, he saidcalmly: "We'll go a little deeper."
The diving rudders were inclined again and the _S-18_ nosed its waydeeper into the water.
Tim watched the depth gauge, fascinated. The needle was marking thedistance steadily. Sixty, seventy, eighty feet they went. Now they weremoving downward again. Ninety, ninety-five and then a hundred.
George Gadd, the engineer, came into the control room.
"Everything's all right so far," he reported.
"Then we'll go the rest of the way," decided Commander Ford.
Tim knew what the order meant. They were going to the bottom, goingdown to make absolutely sure that the _S-18_ was ready for theCaribbean treasure hunt.
The Treasure Hunt of the S-18 Page 16