Chapter VI: A Lesson in "who's Who."

In order to reach the motor room Matt had to crawl through a low chamber closely packed with storage batteries. There were sixty cells with a power of one hundred and sixty volts, and with a capacity of what is known, in electrical parlance, as sixteen hundred ampere hours. This room was Speake's dominion, and he sat on a low stool, his head just clearing the deck above, watching furtively as Matt scrambled past him.

Tucked away in the stern, at the end of the floored space, was the motor room. It looked like the tunnel shaft of an ocean liner.

At one side there were switchboards for two dynamotors: one of ten horse power to compress air, and a second of two horse power to supply lights and assist the ventilation. The spiral resistance coils were close to the switchboards. The gasoline engine was in the centre of the compartment, and back of this stretched the shaft, finally passing out into the water through a stuffing box.

Matt glanced at a clock on the wall. From somewhere in the distance he could hear breakers churning soddenly against a reef.

Clackett, crouching low in the curve of the boat's side, looked anxiously at Matt. He paid no attention to Clackett, but gave the fly wheel a sharp turn.

Sputter, pop, pop!

Matt listened. It was marvelous how completely he was in touch with the engine.

"Did you strain the gasoline before you put it into the tank?" he demanded of Clackett.

"Always do that, Matt," was the reply.

"The carburetter valve is clogged. Lay hold here."

In ten minutes the valve was clear, the engine "turned over" and the motor working properly. Matt switched the power into the propeller.

"All right, periscope room!" he called through a tube.

"Bully!" came back the voice of Gaines. "We were almost on the rocks. You're the boy, Matt!"

"Send Dick Ferral down here," ordered Matt curtly.

Dick presently appeared.

"Take charge of the engine, Dick," said Matt.

"What are you going to do, matey?" asked Dick.

"You'll know in a few minutes." He turned to Clackett. "Go up to the periscope room, Clackett," he went on. "I may need you."

"But say, Matt----"

"You heard what I said!"

There was that in Motor Matt's voice and eyes that sent Clackett crawling forward along the passage.

Matt followed him. In the battery room they picked up Speake, and Matt sent him trailing after Clackett. In that order all three finally gained the periscope room.

"What the blazes is the matter with you fellows?" shouted Gaines.

He was doing the steering himself, and was standing by the periscope table.

"Keep your eyes on the periscope," said Matt. "Attend to your work, Gaines."

Matt whirled about to where the don was sitting on a stool. There was a sharp gleam in the Spaniard's eyes, although he was otherwise cool and perfectly collected.

"This is a good time to give you fellows a lesson in who's who aboard the _Grampus_," said Matt. "Don Ramon, you did a rascally thing when you hired these men to take you south in direct defiance of my orders."

"What of it?" The don shrugged his shoulders. "We'll soon be at the mouth of the Izaral----"

"We are _not_ going to the Izaral River," cut in Matt. "We are going back to Belize."

"We are not going back to Belize until we finish our work in the Izaral," was the insolent response.

"No?" returned Matt coolly. "We'll see. Gaines?" he called.

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Gaines, keeping his eyes on the periscope.

"Put about!"

Gaines made no move to shift the wheel.

"You heard what I said, Gaines?" went on Matt, his voice pitched low but carrying an emphasis that lifted it above the hum of the motor.

"I heard you, Matt," replied Gaines.

"Either obey the order or give up the wheel to Clackett."

Brought directly face to face with the issue, Gaines hesitated. The sharp eyes of the don noted the effect the masterful young motorist's words were having on Gaines.

"Don't you do it, Gaines," said the don coolly. "Think of the money you're to get. Motor Matt has not the courage----"

"Don't talk foolish!" growled Gaines. "Matt's got more pluck in a minute than any of the rest of us have in a year. I know him."

"He hasn't the courage to go to the Izaral," growled the don.

"He's only off'n his course a little about that," answered Gaines.

"Will you obey orders, Gaines, or leave your post?" asked Matt.

"He'll obey my orders," flashed the don, "and he'll stay right where he is and hold to his present course."

As the don spoke he pulled a hand from the breast of his coat. The hand gripped a revolver.

"That's your game, is it?" asked Matt, peering steadily into the snaky orbs of the Spaniard.

"We have come thus far on my mission," returned the don, "and we are going the rest of the way."

"Put up that gun!" said Gaines angrily. "If you try any shootin', we'll throw our hands in the air and put back to Belize."

Speake and Clackett moved forward. Matt waved them aside.

"I'll manage this," said he. "Gaines, keep your eyes on the periscope. A fine fellow, this don of yours. You men ought to feel proud of the way you hooked up with him, and----"

Matt, while he was talking, had kept covert eyes on the don. At just that moment the _Grampus_ gave a heavy roll. The don's stool slid back against the steel wall and the point of the revolver was thrown, for the fraction of a second, toward the curving deck, overhead. This was Matt's opportunity. Quick as a flash he hurled himself upon the Spaniard, bore him from the stool and they rolled over and over upon the heaving floor.

The struggle lasted only a few moments, and when Matt withdrew from the don and got to his feet, he was holding the revolver.

"I'll make you answer for this!" cried the don, in a furious temper.

"You are welcome to try--just as soon as we get back to Belize," said Matt. "If this matter is aired, it won't sound very well when your government hears of it."

A mocking light crossed the don's angry face.

"_Diable!_" he exclaimed. "I'm not afraid of my government."

"Throw it overboard, Speake," said Matt, handing the revolver to Speake. "We don't need that thing here. If I can't have obedience on the _Grampus_ without looking at her crew over the sights of a gun, I don't want it."

Speake, without a word, took the revolver and went up the ladder into the conning tower.

"From this on, Don Ramon Ortega," said Matt, "you will consider yourself a passenger. I will treat you better than your conduct demands, and will not make a prisoner of you unless you attempt to interfere with the management of the boat. Do you understand that?"

The don muttered something under his breath.

Before Matt could speak further, a shout came from Speake.

"Small boat off the starboard beam, close in!"

"By Jupiter!" exclaimed Gaines, pushing farther into the hood of the periscope. "Look here, Matt!"

As Matt turned, an evil, triumphant light flashed in the don's eyes. Matt could not see it, and it escaped Clackett.

In the mirror top of the periscope table, clear and distinct, was reflected a ship's boat, a yawl, heaving helplessly on the waves. The boat was not over a hundred feet from the submarine, and the periscope showed it with startling fidelity to detail.

Aboard the yawl were five persons--four men and a boy. They seemed to be in difficult straits, for the men were standing erect and waving their hats frantically.

"They've been shipwrecked, Matt," said Gaines, "and they've lost their oars."

One of the men was a burly individual, wearing an oilskin coat and a sou'wester. All the others were roughly dressed, the boy wearing a pea-jacket and a stocking cap pulled well down over his face.

"There's a sailing craft hull down, off to port," said Matt. "It's a wonder that boat didn't pick those fellows up. But that's unimportant. We'll lay them aboard and take them off. Clackett!"

"Here, Matt!" answered Clackett.

"Take two coils of rope and go aloft." Matt turned to Gaines. "Get as close to the boat as you can, Gaines," he added.

Clackett rushed up the conning-tower ladder, and followed Speake out onto the curving plates of the deck. Matt went after the two men to direct operations from the conning tower.

Those in the boat--with the exception of the boy--appeared in the last stages of exhaustion. On seeing that their wild signals were to be answered, they dropped sprawling over the thwarts.

The boy still stood erect and made gestures--stealthy movements with one hand which puzzled Matt.

"That youngster seems to have stood their hard luck better'n the men," remarked Clackett, moving toward the bow with a coil of rope.

Matt made no answer, but continued to watch the dancing yawl as Gaines brought the submarine steadily nearer.

"Stand by to catch a rope!" shouted Matt presently, when they were close enough for a cast. "Let 'er go, Clackett!"

The rope left Clackett's hand, untwined itself sinuously in the air, and the end of it was grabbed by the big fellow in the sou'wester.

"All fast!" he boomed in a voice that was strangely strong for one whose actions showed him to be nearly fagged out.

Speake's rope was then thrown, and thus, with a double cable, the yawl was drawn close against the rounded side of the submarine.

In the periscope room were only the don and Gaines. Gaines' head was shrouded by the folds of the black periscope hood, and the don, unseen, was rubbing his hands delightedly.