Chapter Twenty-One
The Escape
Events had happened so quickly that day that the gold-hunters couldscarcely comprehend them. It seemed only a short time since Mr. Swifthad been discovered lying disabled on the dynamo, and what hadtranspired since seemed to have taken place in a few minutes, though itwas, in reality, several hours. This was made manifest by the feelingof hunger on the part of Tom and his friends.
"I wonder if they're going to starve us, the scoundrels?" asked Mr.Sharp, when the irate lieutenant was beyond hearing. "It's not fair tomake us go hungry and shoot us in the bargain."
"That's so, they ought to feed us," put in Tom. As yet neither he northe others fully realized the meaning of the sentence passed on them.
From where they were on deck they could look off to the little island.From it boats manned by natives were constantly putting off, bringingsupplies to the ship. The place appeared to be a sort of callingstation for Brazilian warships, where they could get fresh water andfruit and other food.
From the island the gaze of the adventurers wandered to the submarine,which lay not far away. They were chagrined to see several of thebolder natives clambering over the deck.
"I hope they keep out of the interior," commented Tom. "If they get topulling or hauling on the levers and wheels they may open the tanks andsink her, with the Conning tower open."
"Better that, perhaps, than to have her fall into the hands of aforeign power," commented Captain Weston. "Besides, I don't see thatit's going to matter much to us what becomes of her after we're--"
He did not finish, but every one knew what he meant, and a grim silencefell upon the little group.
There came a welcome diversion, however, in the shape of three sailors,bearing trays of food, which were placed on the deck in front of theprisoners, who were sitting or lying in the shade of an awning, for thesun was very hot.
"Ha! Bless my napkin-ring!" cried Mr. Damon with something of hisformer gaiety. "Here's a meal, at all events. They don't intend tostarve us. Eat hearty, every one."
"Yes, we need to keep up our strength," observed Captain Weston.
"Why?" inquired Mr. Sharp.
"Because we're going to try to escape!" exclaimed Tom in a low voice,when the sailors who had brought the food had gone. "Isn't that whatyou mean, captain?"
"Exactly. We'll try to give these villains the slip, and we'll need allour strength and wits to do it. We'll wait until night, and see what wecan do."
"But where will we escape to?" asked Mr. Swift. "The island will affordno shelter, and--"
"No, but our submarine will," went on the sailor.
"It's in the possession of the Brazilians," objected Tom.
"Once I get aboard the Advance twenty of those brown-skinned villainswon't keep me prisoner," declared Captain Weston fiercely. "If we canonly slip away from here, get into the small boat, or even swim to thesubmarine, I'll make those chaps on board her think a hurricane hasbroken loose."
"Yes, and I'll help," said Mr. Damon.
"And I," added Tom and the balloonist.
"That's the way to talk," commented the captain. "Now let's eat, for Isee that rascally lieutenant coming this way, and we mustn't appear tobe plotting, or he'll be suspicious."
The day passed slowly, and though the prisoners seemed to be allowedconsiderable liberty, they soon found that it was only apparent. OnceTom walked some distance from that portion of the deck where he and theothers had been told to remain. A sailor with a gun at once ordered himback. Nor could they approach the rails without being directed, harshlyenough at times, to move back amidships.
As night approached the gold-seekers were on the alert for any chancethat might offer to slip away, or even attack their guard, but thenumber of Brazilians around them was doubled in the evening, and aftersupper, which was served to them on deck by the light of swinginglanterns, they were taken below and locked in a stuffy cabin. Theylooked helplessly at each other.
"Don't give up," advised Captain Weston. "It's a long night. We may beable to get out of here."
But this hope was in vain. Several times he and Tom, thinking theguards outside the cabin were asleep, tried to force the lock of thedoor with their pocket-knives, which had not been taken from them. Butone of the sailors was aroused each time by the noise, and looked inthrough a barred window, so they had to give it up. Slowly the nightpassed, and morning found the prisoners pale, tired and discouraged.They were brought up on deck again, for which they were thankful, as inthat tropical climate it was stifling below.
During the day they saw Admiral Fanchetti and several of his officerspay a visit to the submarine. They went below through the openedconning tower, and were gone some time.
"I hope they don't disturb any of the machinery," remarked Mr. Swift."That could easily do great damage."
Admiral Fanchetti seemed much pleased with himself when he returnedfrom his visit to the submarine.
"You have a fine craft," he said to the prisoners. "Or, rather, you hadone. My government now owns it. It seems a pity to shoot such good boatbuilders, but you are too dangerous to be allowed to go."
If there had been any doubt in the minds of Tom and his friends thatthe sentence of the court-martial was only for effect, it was dispelledthat day. A firing squad was told off in plain view of them, and themen were put through their evolutions by Lieutenant Drascalo, who hadthem load, aim and fire blank cartridges at an imaginary line ofprisoners. Tom could not repress a shudder as he noted the leveledrifles, and saw the fire and smoke spurt from the muzzles.
"Thus we shall do to you at sunrise to-morrow," said the lieutenant,grinning, as he once more had his men practice their grim work.
It seemed hotter than ever that day. The sun was fairly broiling, andthere was a curious haziness and stillness to the air. It was noticedthat the sailors on the San Paulo were busy making fast all loosearticles on deck with extra lashings, and hatch coverings were doublysecured.
"What do you suppose they are up to?" asked Tom of Captain Weston.
"I think it is coming on to blow," he replied, "and they don't want tobe caught napping. They have fearful storms down in this region at thisseason of the year, and I think one is about due."
"I hope it doesn't wreck the submarine," spoke Mr. Swift. "They oughtto close the hatch of the conning tower, for it won't take much of asea to make her ship considerable water."
Admiral Fanchetti had thought of this, however, and as the afternoonwore away and the storm signs multiplied, he sent word to close thesubmarine. He left a few sailors aboard inside on guard.
"It's too hot to eat," observed Tom, when their supper had been broughtto them, and the others felt the same way about it. They managed todrink some cocoanut milk, prepared in a palatable fashion by thenatives of the island, and then, much to their disgust, they were takenbelow again and locked in the cabin.
"Whew! But it certainly is hot!" exclaimed Mr. Damon as he sat down ona couch and fanned himself. "This is awful!"
"Yes, something is going to happen pretty soon," observed CaptainWeston. "The storm will break shortly, I think."
They sat languidly about the cabin. It was so oppressive that even thethought of the doom that awaited them in the morning could hardly seemworse than the terrible heat. They could hear movements going on aboutthe ship, movements which indicated that preparations were being madefor something unusual. There was a rattling of a chain through a hawsehole, and Captain Weston remarked:
"They're putting down another anchor. Admiral Fanchetti had better getaway from the island, though, unless he wants to be wrecked. He'll beblown ashore in less than no time. No cable or chain will hold in suchstorms as they have here."
There came a period of silence, which was suddenly broken by a howl asof some wild beast.
"What's that?" cried Tom, springing up from where he was stretched outon the cabin floor.
"Only the wind," replied the captain. "The storm has arrived."
The howling k
ept up, and soon the ship began to rock. The windincreased, and a little later there could be heard, through an openedport in the prisoners' cabin, the dash of rain.
"It's a regular hurricane!" exclaimed the captain. "I wonder if thecables will hold?"
"What about the submarine?" asked Mr. Swift anxiously.
"I haven't much fear for her. She lies so low in the water that thewind can't get much hold on her. I don't believe she'll drag heranchor."
Once more came a fierce burst of wind, and a dash of rain, and then,suddenly above the outburst of the elements, there sounded a crash ondeck. It was followed by excited cries.
"Something's happened!" yelled Tom. The prisoners gathered in afrightened group in the middle of the cabin. The cries were repeated,and then came a rush of feet just outside the cabin door.
"Our guards! They're leaving!" shouted Tom.
"Right!" exclaimed Captain Weston. "Now's our chance! Come on! If we'regoing to escape we must do it while the storm is at its height, and allis in confusion. Come on!"
Tom tried the door. It was locked.
"One side!" shouted the captain, and this time he did not pause to say"by your leave." He came at the portal on the run, and his shoulderstruck it squarely. There was a splintering and crashing of wood, andthe door was burst open.
"Follow me!" cried the valiant sailor, and Tom and the others rushedafter him. They could hear the wind howling more loudly than ever, andas they reached the deck the rain dashed into their faces with suchviolence that they could hardly see. But they were aware that somethinghad occurred. By the light of several lanterns swaying in the terrificblast they saw that one of the auxiliary masts had broken off near thedeck.
It had fallen against the chart house, smashing it, and a number ofsailors were laboring to clear away the wreckage.
"Fortune favors us!" cried Captain Weston. "Come on! Make for the smallboat. It's near the side ladder. We'll lower the boat and pull to thesubmarine."
There came a flash of lightning, and in its glare Tom saw somethingthat caused him to cry out.
"Look!" he shouted. "The submarine. She's dragged her anchors!"
The Advance was much closer to the warship than she had been thatafternoon. Captain Weston looked over the side.
"It's the San Paulo that's dragging her anchors, not the submarine!" heshouted. "We're bearing down on her! We must act quickly. Come on,we'll lower the boat!"
In the rush of wind and the dash of rain the prisoners crowded to theaccommodation companion ladder, which was still over the side of thebig ship. No one seemed to be noticing them, for Admiral Fanchetti wason the bridge, yelling orders for the clearing away of the wreckage.But Lieutenant Drascalo, coming up from below at that moment, caughtsight of the fleeing ones. Drawing his sword, he rushed at them,shouting:
"The prisoners! The prisoners! They are escaping!"
Captain Weston leaped toward the lieutenant.
"Look out for his sword!" cried Tom. But the doughty sailor did notfear the weapon. Catching up a coil of rope, he cast it at thelieutenant. It struck him in the chest, and he staggered back, loweringhis sword.
Captain Weston leaped forward, and with a terrific blow sent LieutenantDrascalo to the deck.
"There!" cried the sailor. "I guess you won't yell 'Silenceo!' for awhile now."
There was a rush of Brazilians toward the group of prisoners. Tomcaught one with a blow on the chin, and felled him, while CaptainWeston disposed of two more, and Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon one each. Thesavage fighting of the Americans was too much for the foreigners, andthey drew back.
"Come on!" cried Captain Weston again. "The storm is getting worse. Thewarship will crash into the submarine in a few minutes. Her anchorsaren't holding. I didn't think they would."
He made a dash for the ladder, and a glance showed him that the smallboat was in the water at the foot of it. The craft had not been hoistedon the davits.
"Luck's with us at last!" cried Tom, seeing it also. "Shall I helpyou, dad?"
"No; I think I'm all right. Go ahead."
There came such a gust of wind that the San Paulo was heeled over, andthe wreck of the mast, rolling about, crashed into the side of a deckhouse, splintering it. A crowd of sailors, led by Admiral Fanchetti,who were again rushing on the escaping prisoners, had to leap back outof the way of the rolling mast.
"Catch them! Don't let them get away!" begged the commander, but thesailors evidently had no desire to close in with the Americans.
Through the rush of wind and rain Tom and his friends staggered downthe ladder. It was hard work to maintain one's footing, but theymanaged it. On account of the high side of the ship the water wascomparatively calm under her lee, and, though the small boat wasbobbing about, they got aboard. The oars were in place, and in anothermoment they had shoved off from the landing stage which formed the footof the accommodation ladder.
"Now for the Advance!" murmured Captain Weston.
"Come back! Come back, dogs of Americans!" cried a voice at the railover their heads, and looking up, Tom saw Lieutenant Drascalo. He hadsnatched a carbine from a marine, and was pointing it at the recentprisoners. He fired, the flash of the gun and a dazzling chain oflightning coming together. The thunder swallowed up the report of thecarbine, but the bullet whistled uncomfortable close to Tom's head. Theblackness that followed the lightning shut out the view of everythingfor a few seconds, and when the next flash came the adventurers sawthat they were close to their submarine.
A fusillade of shots sounded from the deck of the warship, but as themarines were poor marksmen at best, and as the swaying of the shipdisconcerted them, our friends were in little danger.
There was quite a sea once they were beyond the protection of the sideof the warship, but Captain Weston, who was rowing, knew how to managea boat skillfully, and he soon had the craft alongside the bobbingsubmarine.
"Get aboard, now, quick!" he cried.
They leaped to the small deck, casting the rowboat adrift. It was thework of but a moment to open the conning tower. As they started todescend they were met by several Brazilians coming up.
"Overboard with 'em!" yelled the captain. "Let them swim ashore or totheir ship!"
With almost superhuman strength he tossed one big sailor from the smalldeck. Another showed fight, but he went to join his companion in theswirling water. A man rushed at Tom, seeking the while to draw hissword, but the young inventor, with a neat left-hander, sent him tojoin the other two, and the remainder did not wait to try conclusions.They leaped for their lives, and soon all could be seen, in thefrequent lightning flashes, swimming toward the warship which was nowcloser than ever to the submarine.
"Get inside and we'll sink below the surface!" called Tom. "Then wedon't care what happens."
They closed the steel door of the conning tower. As they did so theyheard the patter of bullets from carbines fired from the San Paulo.Then came a violent tossing of the Advance; the waves were becominghigher as they caught the full force of the hurricane. It took but aninstant to sever, from within, the cable attached to the anchor, whichwas one belonging to the warship. The Advance began drifting.
"Open the tanks, Mr. Sharp!" cried Tom. "Captain Weston and I willsteer. Once below we'll start the engines."
Amid a crash of thunder and dazzling flashes of lightning, thesubmarine began to sink. Tom, in the conning tower had a sight of theSan Paulo as it drifted nearer and nearer under the influence of themighty wind. As one bright flash came he saw Admiral Fanchetti andLieutenant Drascalo leaning over the rail and gazing at the Advance.
A moment later the view faded from sight as the submarine sank belowthe surface of the troubled sea. She was tossed about for some timeuntil deep enough to escape the surface motion. Waiting until she wasfar enough down so that her lights would not offer a mark for the gunsof the warship, the electrics were switched on.
"We're safe now!" cried Tom, helping his father to his cabin. "They'vegot too much to attend to themselves to follow
us now, even if theycould. Shall we go ahead, Captain Weston?"
"I think so, yes, if I may be allowed to express my opinion," was themild reply, in strange contrast to the strenuous work in which thecaptain had just been engaged.
Tom signaled to Mr. Sharp in the engine-room, and in a few seconds theAdvance was speeding away from the island and the hostile vessel. Nor,deep as she was now, was there any sign of the hurricane. In thepeaceful depths she was once more speeding toward the sunken treasure.
Tom Swift and His Submarine Boat; Or, Under the Ocean for Sunken Treasure Page 21