Chapter IX: Northward Bound

The _Grampus_ had no more than dropped anchor in her old berth than Matt, Glennie, Captain Pons, the captain of the port, and the negroes were alongside in the boat.

"Great spark plugs," cried Matt, "but you fellows gave me a scare."

"Vell, bard," answered Carl, "ve vas a leedle schared ourselufs."

"Here's another scare for you, matey," called Dick. "The Sons of the Rising Sun have a submarine of their own, and are after us. They were here, off Lota, and just went north with that torpedo in tow."

"Jupiter!" exclaimed Glennie. "How did you fellows know that?"

"You act as though it wasn't any news to you."

"It isn't, but we thought you fellows were not informed and would fall a victim to the _Pom_."

"_Pom?_" echoed Dick.

"That's the name of the other submarine," went on Matt. "She's a French craft and was brought here by this man, Captain Pons, to be turned over to the Chilian government. Five Japs worked a trick and succeeded in getting hold of her."

"Why, how----"

"We'll tell you all about it later, Dick. Where were you when that torpedo went off?"

"Just diving to the bottom to go hunting for the other torpedo. That Whitehead they fired never touched us."

"It must have touched something," put in Speake, "or the firing pin wouldn't have got in its work."

"It hit a harbor buoy," said Matt. "At least, the captain of the port says there was a buoy at this point. As it isn't here now, it must have been demolished. It's a lucky thing for all of us that the buoy was between the _Grampus_ and the Whitehead. Glennie and I will go back to the shore, Dick, and get a barrel of gasoline. You get the hose rigged and have everything ready to discharge the gasoline in short order. We're northward bound, and are going to get away from these waters just as quick as the nation will let us."

There was something of a disappointment in this for the men on the submarine. They had hoped for a chance to stretch their legs ashore, but they appreciated the necessity of getting the _Grampus_ out of harm's way as quickly as possible.

"Won't the _Pom_ lay for us as we pull out of the bay, Matt?" asked Dick.

"She can't lay for us. You see, she had only two torpedoes. One of those was destroyed in the attack made on the _Grampus_ in the bay; the other one the _Pom_ is dragging off to some place where she can get it in shape for work. We need not fear any attack from the Sons of the Rising Sun until the other Whitehead is ready for use. If we act quickly, we can get well away from the _Pom_ before she becomes dangerous."

"_Diable!_" rasped out Captain Pons. "Is it ze American vay to r-run from ze enemy? Pur-r-r-soo and capture, zat is ze sing. I will go wiz you, _oui_, I, myself, Captain Pons. You will help me get back ze _Pom_. Eh?"

"We're not here to take any risks with the _Grampus_, captain," said Matt. "Responsibility for the safety of the boat rests on my shoulders, and you'll have to get some Chilian war ship to help you."

"Zat is not right!" cried the captain. "One mariner is in ze duty bound to help anozzer mariner in ze distress. Me, I call on you. You refuse, zen zat is mos' contemptible."

"I'm sorry you look at it in that way, captain," replied Matt; "but it's just possible I know my own business better than you do."

Captain Pons had a little fit all by himself, and while he had it he was saying unpleasant things.

"What's the matter with the frog eater?" cried Dick. "Throw him overboard!"

Matt signed for the captain of the port to have the negro oarsmen get the boat back to the landing. The captain at once gave the order and the boat danced away in the direction of the wharf.

Captain Pons was still calling down anathemas on the heads of all Americans who refused to help a Frenchman in "ze distress."

"By gar," he cried, "I vill vire my government how you haf treat' me! I vill use ze cable, and let ze president of my country know it all. It is mos' contemptible!"

"Captain," said Matt, "we are not allowed to take any strangers aboard the _Grampus_. Our submarine has appliances which put her so far ahead of every other boat in her class that we are all under seal of secrecy and are bound by a pledge to keep strangers away. So, you see, it would be impossible for you to take a cruise in the _Grampus_."

Captain Pons glared.

"It is mos' contemptible!" was all he could say.

Matt and Glennie, without delaying further, pushed into the town. Matt had little difficulty in finding the gasoline he wanted. He had to go to two or three places before he found fuel that answered the severe tests he put it to, but finally he got what he desired and had it hauled to the landing.

The captain of the port was not in evidence, but his two negroes were waiting at the boat.

Matt had come down to the wharf in the wagon that brought the gasoline, and Glennie had been left to follow on foot. The ensign put in an appearance just as the barrel had been transferred to the boat. Matt was surprised to see him carrying a rifle.

The only firearms aboard the _Grampus_ consisted of a six-shooter which had accompanied the ensign when he first assumed his duties on the submarine.

"What are you going to do with that, Glennie?" laughed Matt. "Shoot Japs?"

"Well, no, not exactly," answered Glennie, "There are a good many ways in which a weapon of this sort might come in handy, besides using it for shooting Japs. It's an American gun, Matt--a Marlin. It looked sort of homelike, so I just took it in, along with a box of cartridges."

If Matt hated one thing more than another, it was a gun. He had seen firearms used so recklessly while he was in the Southwest that he had acquired a strong prejudice against them. Notwithstanding this fact, he was a crack shot, and had more than once carried off the prize in a shooting contest.

"All right, Glennie," said he, although a trifle reluctantly, "bring it along."

"You don't like guns, Matt," observed the ensign as he lowered himself into the boat and dropped down on one of the thwarts.

"Or knives, either," added Matt, "when they are used to get the better of another fellow. A pair of fists make pretty good weapons."

"Fists are all right," laughed Glennie, "so long as the other chap uses them; but when you find an enemy standing off forty or fifty feet and looking at you over the sights of a gun--well, that's the time another gun would be mighty valuable."

By the time the small boat fell in alongside the _Grampus_, Dick, Carl, and the rest had the hose ready and it took only a few moments to rig the pump. Presently the gasoline was flowing down the tower hatch and into the reservoir below.

Dick, keeping one eye on the negroes while they bent over the pump handles, leaned against the conning tower and heaved a long breath.

"I'm hoping, old ship," said he to Matt, "that we'll be able to leave the Japs behind, this time, for good and all. Those on the _Pom_ must have seen us while we had their craft under our search light, and I guessed good and hard why they didn't turn and send another torpedo at us. I didn't know, you see, that they only had two Whiteheads to their blessed name. We could have pulled their fangs if we had opened up that torpedo and took out the dynamite."

"I intended," answered Matt, "to take the torpedo aboard through one of our tubes as soon as we reached this harbor, but the captain of the port came down on us before I had the chance."

"How did you find out about that submarine, and the Japs being in charge of her?"

Matt straightened out this point to his chum's satisfaction. That part of Matt's recital which had to do with the Jap who had been captured under the wharf was particularly interesting to Dick.

"Those fellows don't care a rap for their own lives," muttered Dick, "and that's what makes 'em such nasty fighters. When that fellow got out through the _Pom's_ torpedo tube, he must have come up directly under the Whitehead. By hugging the torpedo close, he could have got his head out of water without any of us on the _Grampus_ seeing him. But he took long chances, just the same, and there are only four Japs left to navigate the other craft. The work probably calls for all hands, and there's bound to be a time when the _Pom_ can't run for lack of hands to navigate her. The Japs are only human, and they'll have to have a spell of rest like every one else."

"We've got a good chance to show them our heels," said Matt, "and it's our duty to make the most of it."

"I'm a Fiji, though," said Dick, "if I don't hate to run away from those Sons of the Rising Sun. It looks as though the United States and Great Britain had struck their colors to the yellow rascals."

"I feel the same way, Dick, but this submarine is worth a hundred thousand dollars, and we're only her trustees. It's our duty not to take any chances with her."

"Right-o, matey. I understand that just as well as you do. Captain Nemo, Jr., ought to give you a good slice of that hundred thousand when you tie up the _Grampus_ at the navy-yard wharf."

"I'm not looking for that, Dick," returned Motor Matt earnestly. "It's the idea of _making good_ that appeals to me beyond anything and everything else. It isn't so much the money that comes to us for what we do, but the way we toe the scratch that counts."

An hour later all preliminaries were finished and the _Grampus_ was off up the bay, tanks emptied and steel hull high in the water, her motors humming and setting a record pace.