“If only we could put the electric motors out of commission,” Frank remarked.
Tico looked at the Hardys with a quizzical expression. “How could we then return to Baja without power?”
“Submarines have two sources of propulsion,” Joe explained. “Diesel engines are used when traveling on the surface, and battery-operated motors when under water.”
“If we could sabotage the batteries somehow,” Frank said, “I’m sure the crew would turn back. They wouldn’t risk going on without being able to submerge.”
Joe glanced down at their prisoner. “I have an idea!” he declared. “The guard is about my size. I’ll put on his jacket and cap and try to work my way aft. None of the crew expects to see any of us outside the cabin. I might just get away with ruining the electric motors.”
“It’s worth a try!” Frank agreed. “But we’ve got to work fast. Somebody might check on the guard.”
Quickly donning the man’s jacket, Joe stepped out into the passageway. He pulled the cap low on his forehead and cautiously moved toward the rear of the submarine. There was not a single crewman in sight. As he edged his way along, the humming sound of the craft’s diesel engines gradually grew louder. Then the young detective spotted a compartment door directly ahead. It was partially open.
“That must lead to the engine room,” he thought.
He crept closer to the door and peered through the crack. There he saw a single crewman checking gauges and making control adjustments.
Realizing he had to act instantly, Joe leaped in through the doorway. The startled crewman whirled and hurled a wrench at him. Joe ducked, then sprang toward his opponent. He caught the man with a sharp uppercut that sent him crashing to the floor and left him unconscious.
“Now, to put the motor batteries out of commission!” Joe thought.
He glanced about until he spotted a drum of lubricating oil. Joe shoved it close to the long row of batteries that operated the sub’s electric motors. After quickly removing the caps which covered the battery cells, he pushed the drum over on top of them. Oil gushed into the batteries, and soon a thick, acrid smoke began to billow up.
At the same instant Frank, Chet, and Tico were confronted by a crewman who had been sent to check on the guard. But before he could warn his cohorts, the fellow was seized. In the brief struggle which followed, Frank kayoed him.
Joe sprang at his opponent
“Let’s get out of herel” Frank whispered to Chet and Tico. “Head aftl”
They raced down the narrow passageway. The three had not gone far when they saw Joe coming to meet them.
“Go the other way!” he warned. “The engine room will be swarming with men in a minute!”
Already the smoke from the oil-soaked batteries was beginning to cause a commotion aboard the sub. The frantic shouts of crewmen could be heard echoing through the passageway.
“We must find some place to hide!” Joe declared.
Frank pointed to a compartment door just ahead of them. “That’s the forward torpedo room,” he said. “Quick! Inside!”
The boys dashed into the small room and eased the door shut behind them. Seconds later they heard crewmen scurrying through the passageway outside.
“The captain wants everybody to report to the engine room!” a man shouted. “Make it snappy!”
Joe clutched his brother’s arm. “Do you feel a change in the sub’s motion?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes!” Frank replied excitedly. “They’re turning around. We must be going back to Baja!”
“Leaping sailfish!” Chet blurted. “Your plan worked!”
Tico creased his brow. “That is good,” he agreed. “But we are still prisoners. How do we escape from here?”
At that instant the boys again heard shouts from the crewmen.
“The kids broke out of the cabin!” one of them yelled. “They’re still aboard somewhere. Start searching every inch of this sub. Begin aft and work forward.”
The boys grew tense as the crewmen began their hunt through the various compartments. Gradually the men drew closer to the youths’ hiding place.
“After you guys check the cabins, take a look in the forward torpedo room,” someone ordered.
“We’re trapped!” Chet muttered nervously.
Joe glanced around. “Wait a minute! There might be a way out of here!”
Frank immediately sensed what his brother had in mind. “You don’t mean the torpedo tubes?”
“Why not?” Joe insisted. “By now we can’t be too far from shore. I’ll fire you fellows out through the tubes. I understand there’s nothing to it.”
“But it means leaving you behind,” Frank retorted. “Nothing doing!”
“Don’t worry about me,” Joe replied. “I’m sure I can get away.”
“How?”
Their discussion was suddenly interrupted by sounds of the crewmen getting closer.
“No time to explain now,” Joe said. “This is our only chance. Hurry! Get into the tubes!”
Reluctantly Frank, Tico, and Chet selected one of the four torpedo tubes and climbed inside. Joe slammed the hatches shut behind them, grabbed the release lever, and fired. There was a loud whoosh of compressed air.
“What was that?” came the voice of a crewman from the passageway outside.
Joe flattened himself against the bulkhead adjacent to the compartment door. A split second later it was flung open and three crewmen rushed past the youth and into the torpedo room. Joe dashed out into the passageway unseen. He adjusted the cap and jacket and made his way amidships.
“Take it easy!” he mumbled to himself. “Don’t look conspicuous!”
Joe located the control room, then climbed a narrow ladder leading up to the conning tower. Several crewmen saw him, but in the confusion, they obviously thought he was one of their group.
“The kids have escaped!” came a voice from below.
All the deck hatches had been opened to help clear the air inside the sub. Joe climbed out, jumped from the conning tower onto the deck, and dived into the water. The craft glided on in the darkness, with the dracones slithering past like giant sausages.
Joe swam quickly toward the shore, which was silhouetted darkly against the night sky. It was not long before he sloshed out of the water onto the pebbly beach.
“I hope the others are all right,” he thought, peering along the shoreline.
Joe began walking in a direction away from the cove where he knew the sub was headed. His concern for his brother and friends increased. Then he heard a familiar bird call in the distance.
Joe cupped his hands over his mouth and returned the call. Shortly three figures loomed out of the darkness.
“Is that you, Joe?” came Frank’s voice.
“Yes,” his brother responded. “Are you fellows okay?”
“Just fine!” Frank answered.
“Speak for yourself, mastermind!” snapped Chet. “So being shot out of a torpedo tube is easy, you said. Next time I’ll try it from a cannon.”
“Chet just swallowed a bit too much water,” Frank remarked, laughing. “So we rode on one of the dracones for a few minutes until he got his breath. Then we swam ashore.”
After Joe had told of his escape, Tico said, “There are some awful mad men out there.”
“Right! Now we must plan our next move,” Joe said.
“I’d like to sneak back to the cove and see what’s going on aboard the submarine,” Frank replied. “But this time let’s not get caught. Some of Vincenzo’s Indians may still be around.”
The boys edged their way along the coast toward the cove. Gradually they began to detect the jumbled voices of many men talking from some distance away.
“It’s the sub’s crew,” Joe whispered.
Frank peered through the darkness. “The cove must be just beyond that low ridge of rocks ahead. If we climb to the top, we may be able to see what’s going on.”
As the boys started up the side of
the ridge, they suddenly heard a metallic, clicking sound behind them.
“Pare!—Stop!” a man ordered in a hushed, but determined voice.
The Hardys and their companions froze in their tracks!
CHAPTER XIX
The Trapper Trapped
Tico turned around, then looked straight ahead as the man uttered a rapid volley of words in Spanish.
“Who is he?” Frank demanded.
“I saw only the outlines of two men behind us,” Tico said. “One of them has a rifle. He orders us not to turn around and to walk where he directs.”
The boys were forced to comply. But much to their surprise they were instructed to walk away from the cove.
“If those guys are a couple of Vincenzo’s men,” Joe remarked, “we’re going the wrong way.”
“Silencio!” the man ordered.
The boys were marched toward a dense thicket slightly inland from the coast. On the other side was a small clearing. In the darkness the boys could make out the faint shapes of four horses. Nearby were three men dressed in military uniforms. One of them stepped forward.
“Quién están ustedes?—Who are you?” he demanded.
Tico told him that his friends were Americans.
“Ah, Americanos!” he said. “What are your names, please?”
When the Hardys identified themselves and Chet, the man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You are the sons of Señor Fenton Hardy?” he asked.
The boys were startled by his question.
“Why—er—yes, we are,” Frank stammered. “But how did you—?”
“I am Lieutenant José Arandas of the Mexican Army,” the soldier announced, adding that he was leading one of several units sent to Baja on special assignment.
He explained that several reports had been received about a mysterious submarine in the area. The Army had been asked to cooperate with the Mexican Coast Guard in an investigation.
“We were just about to make camp for the night,” Arandas continued, “when one of my men saw a submarine offshore. I sent out two scouts to watch it, and now they return with you muchachos.”
“But how did you come to know our father’s name?” Joe asked.
“Señor Hardy recently arrived in Mazatlan to find that you were missing,” the lieutenant explained. “The only information he was able to obtain was that you were last seen sailing off in a boat. But no one knew where you were going.” The soldier said that Mr. Hardy had notified the police, who in turn contacted the Army. All units were alerted to be on the lookout.
“We’re sorry we caused Dad a lot of worry,” Frank sighed, “but we didn’t expect to be away for more than a couple of days. We’d like to get word to him as soon as possible.”
“Sí, sí,” Arandas said. “A helicopter will be in this vicinity tomorrow. We have a radio to talk with the pilot. He will relay a message to your father.”
“Thanks,” Frank replied. “And now, Lieutenant, I believe we can help you.” The Hardys told the officer about their recent adventures in Baja.
“Caramba!” Arandas exclaimed. “And you say this hombre Vincenzo is smuggling oil out of Mexico?”
“We’re certain of it,” Joe assured him.
The lieutenant barked an order to his men. He then turned to the boys. “I go to the cove to seize the submarine and its crew!”
“Wait a minute!” Frank urged. “That would only serve to warn Vincenzo. He’d be sure to escape.”
“Anyway, the sub is out of commission for a while,” Joe added. “You can grab it later.”
“Then you must lead me to Vincenzo’s hideout,” Arandas stated.
“We will,” Frank agreed. “But you’ll need more men than you have now to capture him and his gang.”
The officer thought for a moment. “I shall contact our helicopter in the morning,” he said finally, “and have the pilot instruct all other scouting units in Baja to rendezvous with us. Perhaps Montaraz would be the place to meet. I have already sent two of my men there to question the villagers.”
Frank stiffened. “What?” he shouted. “You sent two men to the village? This means trouble!”
“I do not understand,” Arandas said.
“We believe Vincenzo has a spy in Montaraz,” Joe explained. “News of soldiers arriving there will surely send Vincenzo running!”
“Our only hope is to find the spy!” Frank declared.
“How?” Joe queried.
Frank quickly outlined a plan. They would rig up a directional antenna on Arandas’s walkie-talkie and use it to obtain a bearing on the spy’s radio signals if he should communicate with Vincenzo’s headquarters.
Early the following morning the loud, fluttering sound of a helicopter was heard approaching the coast. When it came within sight, Lieutenant Arandas picked up the walkie-talkie and contacted the pilot. He first requested that a message from the boys be relayed to Mr. Hardy in Mazat-Ian. Then he asked that the other scouting units rendezvous with him approximately one mile west of Montaraz.
When he had finished transmitting, Arandas handed the walkie-talkie to the Hardys. They quickly improvised a directional antenna from a length of wire and attached it to the radio.
“That should do it,” Frank commented as he observed the rig. “Now we’d better start out for Montaraz.”
The soldiers mounted their horses. Each of the boys doubled with a rider and galloped off. Within a couple of hours the group arrived at the spot where Arandas was to meet with the other units.
“We’ll go the rest of the way on foot,” Frank informed the lieutenant. “If we come up with anything, we’ll let you know right away.”
“Buena suerte!—Good luck!” Arandas said.
Together with Chet and Tico, the Hardys rapidly walked the remaining mile to Montaraz. They did not enter the village, but posted themselves on the outskirts.
“Since we don’t know what frequency the spy is transmitting on,” Frank remarked, “we’ll have to keep sweeping through the entire band. We’re close enough to the village to pick up a strong signal.”
The boys patiently and slowly worked the frequency knob of the walkie-talkie back and forth. An hour passed. Then suddenly a conversation between two men crackled from the speaker.
“Can you make out what they’re saying, Tico?” Joe asked anxiously.
“Yes!” the Mexican boy answered. “One man says he has an urgent message for Vincenzo. He warns that there are soldiers in the village asking questions!”
Frank quickly turned the walkie-talkie until the axis of the circular directional antenna pointed toward the village. He then maneuvered the radio to the left and right until the signal faded completely. At that instant Joe recorded the direction of the bearing with his magnetic compass.
“Hurry!” Frank ordered. “Let’s go to another spot and take a second bearing!”
The boys circled the village for some distance, then repeated the procedure. Now the voice of another man came from the speaker. “Stay there and keep an ear open. Find out what they’re up to and report to me.” Seconds later the transmissions ceased.
The Hardys drew a rough sketch of the village to scale. Then they plotted the two bearing lines.
“They intersect at the extreme southeast corner of the village,” Joe said.
“And there are only two haciendas in that area,” Frank stated. “That simplifies our search. The spy has to be at one or the other.”
Frank instructed Tico to hurry back to Arandas. “Ask him to meet us here with some of his men as soon as possible.”
It was already dark by the time Tico returned with the soldiers. The Hardys told the lieutenant about their discovery.
“We must search the haciendas at once!” Arandas declared.
The boys and the three soldiers made their way toward the southeast corner of the village. As they edged toward their goal, they saw two rundown houses. They were in darkness and there was not a sound.
“Nobody home,” Joe whispered.
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“Let’s split up into two groups and search each of the homes,” Frank said.
Chet, Tico, and two of the soldiers crept toward one structure, while the Hardys and Arandas headed for the other. Frank carefully lifted the latch on the door and it eased open. He and the others stepped into an untidy room.
They pulled out their pencil flashlights and began a search. Arandas posted himself at the door.
After they had searched for several minutes, Joe sighed. “There’s nothing here to give us a lead.”
Frank walked over to a large earthen jar resting in a corner of the room. Reaching inside, he let out a cry of surprise.
“We’ve come to the right place!” he exclaimed. “Look what I foundl” He pulled out a walkie-talkie.
“Tell the others to call off their search,” Frank told Joe. Soon Chet and the others arrived to inspect Frank’s discovery.
“I wonder where the spy is now,” Tico said.
“Maybe he flew the coop,” Chet suggested.
“Possibly,” Frank replied. “But we’ll wait for a while and hope he shows up.”
The watchers sat quietly in the darkened room. Less than an hour had passed when they heard the door latch being lifted. Then a short, stocky Mexican entered the room.
“Grab him!” Joe yelled.
The startled man cried out as two of the soldiers seized him. The boys directed the beams of their flashlights into the frightened man’s face.
Frank blurted out, “He’s the guy who threatened us with a machete the first time we came to the village!”
Arandas was about to question him when the Mexican, slithering like a cornered snake, broke away from the soldiers. He leaped through an open window and headed for the center of the village, with the boys after him. Arandas pulled out his pistol but held his fire as the fugitive and his pursuers became blurred in the darkness.
The fleeing man raced across the plaza toward the cantina. In front of the building were two saddled horses. The fugitive leaped onto one and galloped off. Frank, who was closest to him, quickly mounted the second and started after him.
It was a bright moonlit night, so Frank had no difficulty keeping the escapee in sight. Gradually he closed the gap between them. As the chase continued, the young detective was startled to see about a dozen horsemen appear on the crest of a hill. Before Frank had a chance to wheel his mount around, he and his quarry were surrounded by the riders.
The Mark on the Door Page 10