Chapter XIII: A Move and a Countermove

"When did you first see the _Grampus_, Dick?" asked Matt, still watching for some sign of life about the submarine.

"She came up about a minute before I called you," replied Dick. "I awoke, saw the sun shining, and stepped out of the tent. About the first thing my eyes rested on, when they turned toward the cove, was that red ball on top of the staff. The submarine wasn't in sight, but that red ball was just awash and moving toward the shore. I hadn't a notion what it could be, and as I stood and looked the ball rose out of the water. Then the _Grampus_ shoved her wet deck into sight, and I made a jump for the tent to get you."

The red ball to which Dick referred was fastened to the end of a staff that was planted in the submarine's deck. Matt was equally at a loss to understand what use the ball could possibly serve.

"Meppy," said Carl, who was always ready with a theory of his own, "der pall is to schare avay der sharks. But for vy has der _Grambus_ come here ven she iss due at Durtle Islandt? Has somet'ing gone wrong mit Jurgens' galguladions?"

At that moment the top of the conning tower was pushed upward, and the head of Jurgens appeared over the rim. The head rose until Jurgens was half out of the tower. The boys could see that he was curious about the tent under the palm trees. He would lift his eyes to the fluttering white flag, and then he would drop them to the tent. Finally Jurgens got out on the submarine's deck.

"Whistler!" the boys heard him call.

A moment later Whistler showed himself. He likewise surveyed the camp of the castaways. After that he and Jurgens talked together, but their voices were pitched in too low a key to carry to the ridge.

At last Jurgens and Whistler gave over their talk. Jurgens began climbing down a ladder over the forward end of the boat, and Whistler got out of the tower and pushed after him.

The bow of the _Grampus_ had grounded on the bottom. Jurgens, stepping from the ladder in water waist-deep, began wading ashore. Once on the beach, he waited for Whistler to join him.

"They're going to investigate our camp," whispered Matt.

"Oof dey come near enough to investigate us," returned Carl, "den, py shinks, ve vill put dem bot' oudt oof pitzness."

"Why not lay them by the heels, matey?" queried Dick, excitedly. "There are three of us and only two of them, and we've got a couple of guns. We could do it easy."

"It's their move," answered Matt, "and if we could make a countermove that would help us get hold of the _Grampus_, we would not only do a good stroke of work for Townsend, but for ourselves, into the bargain. The _Grampus_ could take us away from here--to Turtle Island, if we wanted to go there--and then to Palm Beach."

As Matt went over the possibilities that followed in the wake of a successful attack on the _Grampus_, his brain fired with a resolve to carry out a countermove, even if he and his chums had to take some risks in order to do it.

"Jurgens is going into the tent," whispered Dick, "and Whistler is moving in the direction of the Hawk. He's not able to recognize the air ship, taken to pieces as she is."

"Right here's our chance," murmured Matt. "Follow me, both of you, and come quietly. Dick, you take this revolver. No noise, now, for everything depends upon the care we exercise in making this part of our countermove."

Jurgens was already so close to the tent that the canvas walls were between him and that part of the ridge where the boys were hiding. Whistler was walking directly away from the palm trees, so that his back was turned to the boys.

Matt crawled over the top of the ridge, then got to his feet and glided noiselessly toward the nearest wall of the tent. He could hear Jurgens poking around inside, and could even follow his movements as his head and shoulders brushed against the sloping canvas.

Dropping to his knees, Matt quickly lifted the lower edge of the canvas and rolled inside. Jurgens was passing that spot, at the moment, and Matt kept on rolling. His body struck against Jurgens' legs with sufficient force to overturn him. He gave a yell as he dropped, but the next moment his frantic shouts were stifled by Carl and Dick, who, by that time, had also pushed under the bottom of the tent.

"Hold him tight," whispered Matt, posting himself at the tent opening. "Here comes Whistler, and we've got to have him, too. You take care of Jurgens and I'll look after Whistler."

Matt had hardly finished speaking before Whistler rushed into the tent. He carried a revolver in one hand, and Matt, with a quick blow, dashed the weapon from his fingers. Whistler started back with an oath, only to find the muzzle of a six-shooter staring him in the face.

"Steady!" snapped Matt. "Try to yell, or to run away, and it will be the worse for you. Down on the ground, Whistler--face down!"

"What are you tryin' to----"

"Down, I tell you!"

The weapon almost touched Whistler's face. His gaze traveled along the barrel to the keen gray eyes back of it, and he dropped to his knees and sprawled forward at full length. As he did so, he made an attempt to grasp the weapon Matt had struck from his hand, and which was still lying on the sand.

But Carl was near enough to grab it away.

"No, you don'd," growled Carl, "nod as anypody knows of. Lay dere, und lay keviet. Vat's der next t'ing, Matt?"

"Go for a rope, Carl," answered Matt; "better get two ropes."

"Dot's me," and Carl sprang up and raced off toward the place where the different parts of the Hawk were piled.

He was back in a minute. Then, while Matt held Whistler under the point of the six-shooter, and Dick did the same by Jurgens, Carl tied the hands of each at his back, and used the free end of the rope to bind each prisoner's feet at the ankles.

"Now," proceeded Matt, "gag each of them. We can't have any yelling while we're doing the rest of our work."

Dick cut two strips of canvas from the tent wall, and these were tightly bound between the prisoner's teeth.

"How vas dot?" exulted Carl, standing over the prisoners when they had been bound and gagged. "You vill sic some more dogs on me, vill you, Churgens? Vell, I don'd t'ink! You ditn't make mooch ven you grabbed dot baper of Downsent's und run off mit it, hey?"

"We've no time for useless talk, Carl," spoke up Matt, sharply. "Only part of our work is done--the smallest part; the biggest thing of all lies ahead of us."

"What's that, matey?" queried Ferral.

"The recapture of the _Grampus_."

Matt was cool enough, but his words were startling.

"How can ve do dot?" returned Carl.

"By boarding the submarine and getting busy," Matt replied.

"Jurgens must have several men there, Matt," said Dick.

"They're probably looking after Townsend's three men. If we can release Cassidy, Burke and Harris, our force will be plenty large enough to take care of this gang of ruffians."

Although it was impossible for either Jurgens or Whistler to move or speak, yet they could hear well enough, and the work Matt was suggesting to his friends caused them to mumble behind their gags and to writhe about angrily.

"If we win," went on Matt, briskly, "we've got to hurry. Come on, pards," and he flung out of the tent and raced down the beach.

There was no one in sight about the _Grampus_. The cover of the conning tower was still pushed back, but it was clear to Matt and his chums that the rest of Jurgens' men were busy below.

Quickly, and with as little noise as possible, Matt, Dick and Carl waded out to the _Grampus_. Matt was first to reach the ladder at the bow, and he swung up it lightly, crossed the deck and climbed into the conning tower.

An iron ladder afforded him means for descent into the hull of the boat, and the lunettes, or little windows, in the sides of the tower lighted his way downward.

At the bottom of the ladder he stepped into a steel chamber. The only articles of furniture in the chamber were a table and a chair. The top of the table was covered with a black hood which fell downward from the ceiling. Just then Matt had no time for investigating things he did not understand.

As he stood for a moment at the foot of the ladder, trying to hear something that would give him a clue as to where he should go, a door suddenly opened behind him. He whirled about, but before he could make a move to protect himself a heavy fist leaped out at him. He dodged to one side, but the blow caught him in the shoulder, whirled him half around and drove him with stunning force against the steel wall.

Taken at a disadvantage, as he had been, Matt would have paid dearly for his daring work had not Ferral, at that instant, dropped from the conning tower squarely upon the head and shoulders of the man who had made the attack on Matt.

The weight of Dick's body hurled the fellow to the floor, and before he could recover his wits Dick had snatched from his fingers a knife which he had pulled from the breast of his coat.

"Avast, there, you swab!" threatened Dick, waving his revolver in front of the scoundrel's face. "Are you hurt, Matt?" he added, keeping his eyes on the man, but addressing his chum.

"Shaken up a little, Dick, that's all," Matt answered; "but it might have been a whole lot worse if you hadn't dropped in on us. Where's Carl?"

"He's coming."

"How many men did Jurgens leave on this boat?" Matt asked, bending over the man on the floor.

"More'n you kin handle," was the surly response.

"We'll see about that. Keep him there, Dick, while I go forward and see what I can find."

Passing through the open door in which the man had appeared so suddenly, Matt found himself in the passage along which he and Holcomb had been led to the torpedo room in the bow. Matt was not going to the torpedo room just then, for he had begun to wonder whether Cassidy, Burke, and Harris might not be confined in the steel chamber where he and Holcomb had been placed on being brought aboard the _Grampus_.

Whirling to the left, he made in the direction of the chamber.