Chapter VII: A Fruitless Search

"That boat was adrift!" cried Matt, as soon as he could find his tongue.

"Yes," answered the captain in a tense voice, "and only Dick and Carl were aboard of her."

"How could that have happened?"

"When the boys got back to the ship, the boat must have been left at the steamer's side while the luggage was being secured. The boys had time to get down into the boat, and before the sailors could follow the squall came rushing down and tore the boat away from the _Santa Maria_. Hard luck, Matt! Still, the case isn't hopeless by any manner of means. The whaleboat has an air chamber at each end and can't be sunk. If the boys can stay in her, and keep her right side up, we'll be able to rescue them."

The fierce pitching and plunging of the submarine told Matt that she was again battling with the elements on the surface. A look into the periscope also laid bare the heaving and churning waters within a narrow zone of observation, but nowhere could the whaleboat be seen.

"Follow the wind, cap'n," said Cassidy. "By doin' that we ought to be able to find the boat."

"That's my intention, Cassidy," returned the captain. "Take the waist-tarp and go up into the conning tower. Carry a rope with you, and be ready to throw it the moment we sight the boat."

"Let me go, captain!" requested Matt. "I'm already as wet as I can possibly be, and I should like to do my part."

"Very well, Matt," replied the captain. "Put the tarp around him, Cassidy."

Cassidy lifted the lid of the locker and took a circular oilskin from inside. There was a round hole in the centre of the oilskin, and around the outside edge were eyelets.

The mate pulled the tarp over Matt's head and tied it about his waist.

"There's a ring of hooks around the rim of the tower, Matt," he explained, "and by fitting the edge of the tarp over them you'll keep us from being drowned out down here."

"I understand," answered Matt.

That was not his first voyage in the _Grampus_, and he was fairly familiar with the boat's equipment.

When he was ready, Cassidy handed him the coil of wet rope recently used by the captain to get Matt aboard.

"When you get tired, Matt," said the captain, "come down and Cassidy will relieve you."

"I hope we'll find the boys before then," answered Matt hopefully. "They were drifting, and if we go with the wind we ought to overhaul them."

"We'll keep track of operations through the periscope and do all we can to lay you alongside the boat if we sight her."

Matt climbed the ladder, pushed back the lever that held the air-tight hatch in place, and threw over the cover just in time to get a barrel of water over his head and shoulders.

Quickly as he could he pushed on until his body, from the waist upward, was over the top of the conning tower. Then, with deft fingers, he made the circular tarp fast along the edge of the hatch. A minute more, when he had leisure to look around over the riotous waters, the novelty of his position caused his pulses to leap.

Forward and aft the water creamed over the steel deck of the _Grampus_, hiding the hull and leaving only the upper part of the conning tower and the steel periscope mast exposed. It seemed to Matt as though he was afloat in nothing more substantial than a barrel, with the clamoring, rushing waves all around him.

Forward, backward and sideways the submarine rolled through a terrific arc, and an occasional wave charged over him, leaving his dripping hair tumbled about his eyes.

For a brief space only did the awful spectacle claim his attention, and then he turned his eyes over the roaring waves in an attempt to locate the whaleboat. The _Grampus_ was now racing with the wind, and the stinging lines of rain struck against the young motorist's back. Again and again he brushed the water from his eyes and continued to peer eagerly ahead.

But his heart was steadily sinking. Dick was a sailor, but what skill could keep the whaleboat right side up in such a tempest? The waves drove past the _Grampus_ at racehorse speed, flinging their foamy arms high in the air. Matt shouted at the top of his lungs, but his voice was puny and ineffective. The gale caught it, feathered it out into a thousand wisps of sound and scattered it into the roar and crash of the waves.

From below him came the notes of a Gabriel horn, but these were little more effective than Matt's voice had been. The minutes passed, and Matt's hopes declined steadily. After a time, he knew not how long, he felt a hand tugging at his feet. Quickly unhooking the edges of the tarp, he descended.

"You've been up there an hour, Matt," said Captain Nemo, Jr., "and Cassidy will relieve you."

"I don't think there's much hope," returned Matt heavily, removing the waist-tarp and handing it to the mate. "I don't see how Dick and Carl could possibly stay in the boat in such a frightful sea."

"We never can tell what we're able to do in this world," said the captain hopefully, "until we're called upon to put forth our best powers. Dick is a cool one, and he knows the sea. If any one could pull through that storm and bring Carl along with him, it's Dick Ferral. We may not find them while the gale is on, but afterward we can cruise about and perhaps be able to pick them up. That is my hope, at all events."

Cassidy, rope in hand, was already on his way up the ladder. When he had taken up his position, the captain turned to Matt.

"That locker is our slop chest," said he, "and in it you will find some dry clothes. Better make a change, Matt, and be as comfortable as possible."

This was good advice, and Matt proceeded to carry it out.

"I had thought of taking Cassidy's place again in an hour," he observed.

"No use," was the answer. "If we don't sight the boat within an hour, then the chances are that we have gone wide of her--perhaps left her behind. We'll sink into quieter waters and come up again when the storm has abated. Then we'll cruise around and do everything possible to locate Dick and Carl."

The captain drew up a chair and braced himself at the periscope table.

At the end of an hour night had fallen, closed in with the Stygian gloom of the clouds and tempest. From that on the periscope was useless, and even a lookout from the top of the conning tower was of no avail.

Cassidy descended, closing the hatch behind him. His face was long and ominous.

"This ends it till mornin', cap'n," said he.

"Exactly so, Cassidy," replied the captain; "but the case isn't hopeless, by any means." He whirled to a speaking tube. "Fill the tanks, Clackett," he ordered, "and descend to twenty yards. Shut off your engine, Gaines," he added through another tube; "we'll pass the night where we are, sixty feet down."

The orders were repeated back, and the _Grampus_ began to sink. When the periscope ball was submerged an automatic valve closed the hollow mast against an inrush of water.

Down and down they went, slipping noiselessly into great depths. Cassidy turned on a light from the storage batteries and an incandescent bulb flooded the periscope room.

Climbing the ladder into the conning tower, Matt stole a look through the lunettes. To see under water, contrary to the usual fiction on the subject, is impossible. Only a sombre void met Matt's eyes. By means of electric light and powerful reflectors Captain Nemo, Jr., could throw a gleam several yards through the lunettes; but this was a drain on the storage batteries, and for use only in case of emergency.

At sixty feet down the _Grampus_ lay as easily under the enormous water pressure as a man in a hammock. At the captain's suggestion, Matt stretched himself out on a blanket on the floor of the periscope room and, in spite of his worry, was soon asleep.

When he was aroused by Cassidy a gleam of day was shining down the conning-tower hatch.

"Speake is getting breakfast, Matt," said Cassidy, "and we're up at the surface again. The storm is over, and the cap'n is on deck, calling for you. Better go up."

Matt jumped to his feet and raced up the ladder. The sea was still a bit rough, although part of the submarine's deck was high and dry. Captain Nemo, Jr., was on the deck, clinging to one of the wire guys that supported the periscope mast.

"Do you see anything of the whaleboat, captain?" were Matt's first words.

"Not a sign," answered the captain, handing Matt a pair of binoculars. "Take a look for yourself."

Bracing himself in the top of the tower Matt swept the glasses over the vast expanse of sunlit, heaving water.

There was nothing to be seen. From horizon to horizon the gulf held only the dancing, gleaming waves.