The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam

Suddenly a dark, shadowy form swung into view. Instantly the other fish vanished, and the boys saw that the newcomer was a large shark swimming leisurely along.

No doubt he wondered who the strangers in his deep sea abode could be, for he swam up close to the window, causing the boys to shrink back. They quite forgot that between them and the tiger of the deep was a solid plate of glass as strong almost as steel.

The shark gazed at the window for an instant and then vanished. With its disappearance, the other fish reappeared and kept the submarine company, for all the world like sea gulls circling round a ship entering port.

"I wonder if they are hungry and want us to throw some food out to them," said Tubby stolidly, as he gazed at the finny tribes darting here and there in the searchlight's rays.

"Gracious, do you think that the fish have the same appetite as you have?" laughed Merritt.

"Just the same, some of those fellows would taste all right broiled," declared the stout youth, at which there was a general laugh.

After an hour spent in this manner the searchlight was switched off and the panels slid back into place.

"I think we will rise now," said the inventor; "you boys had better hold on, for we may go up pretty quick."

"I hope we do go up," muttered Tubby, rather nervously. The stout youth was not particularly in love with the dark depths in which they were navigating. In fact, all the lads, though they did not admit it, experienced a longing for daylight. It was an awe-inspiring feeling – too awe-inspiring to be comfortable – to be in the depths of the ocean where no keel had ever before plowed.

Mr. Barr remounted to the conning tower. A minute later a renewal of the swishing sound told that the pumps were emptying the tanks at the rate of a thousand gallons a minute. The submarine could be felt to leap upward toward the surface. The boys held on for dear life, exchanging rather alarmed glances.

All at once the pace slackened, and the swishing sound ceased. Mr. Barr had decided that the pace was too swift and had cut off the pumps.

"Well, thank goodness that's over!" gasped Donald. "At the rate we were going up we'd have bounced clean out of the sea."

"I guess we're all right now," remarked Merritt.

The words had hardly left his lips when there came a jar and a bump that shook the submarine in her every frame and rivet.

The boys were thrown from their feet and hurled about the cabin. At the same instant the engines stopped and the submarine began to back, but slowly, like a stricken animal.

"We've rammed something!"

"We're sinking!"

These and a hundred other exclamations came from the alarmed boys.

Mr. Barr poked his head down into the cabin.

"Are you all right below?" he asked.

"Yes; but what has happened?"

"Have we been badly damaged?"

"Are we sinking?"

The above questions were all shouted at once in the tense excitement.

Barton, his face white as ashes, came out of his engine room.

"What did we hit?" he demanded in a frightened voice.

"I don't know; but we struck something, possibly a sunken wreck, a hard blow," was the inventor's reply. Although his face was deadly pale, his voice was without a tremor as he spoke.

"We must make an examination at once," he went on. "Andrews, Higgins, and Ross," addressing the three sailors who had appeared from forward, "make an examination forward at once and see if any of the plates have started. If you find a suspicion of a leak report to me at once."

The sailors, trained in naval discipline, saluted, and hastened off on their errand.

"If we are leaking, what are we to do?" demanded Rob.

"Meet death as bravely as we can," was the reply in steady tones; "submarines carry no boats and we must go to the bottom unless we can find some way to stop the leak."

Small wonder that the boys were stricken aghast. Barton, the machinist, flung himself face downward on a couch and began whimpering.

The inventor looked at the man with contempt.

"Stand by your engines, Barton," he commanded sternly; "the first man to shirk his duty in this emergency will have to settle with me."

Barton rose to his feet unsteadily. He was pasty yellow with terror. In his eyes was a wild look. But under the inventor's stern gaze he reëntered the engine room, shaking like a leaf.

It was then that Rob noticed that a revolver was in the inventor's hand as he stood at the top of the cabin ladder.

CHAPTER XV.

THE STRANGE FLAG

After ten minutes of the most painful suspense that any of the boys had ever known, the three sailors returned with the report that while one of the forward plates was bent and was leaking slightly, there appeared to be no danger.

Mr. Barr made no secret of his relief at receiving this bit of information. The boys burst into a cheer, and Barton, crouching in cowardly panic in the engine room, knew by this sound that all was well.

"Now we'll get to the surface quick and see what happened," declared the inventor.

The Peacemaker, which all this time had been slowly backing, was sent upward once more. As soon as they reached the surface Mr. Barr opened the conning tower hatch, and they all hastened out on deck. To their amazement the water all about was dyed crimson, and the cause was almost immediately apparent. Not far off lay the carcass of a whale, almost cut in two. This was beyond question the obstacle that the submarine had struck. Probably the dead cetacean could not get out of the way of the steel diving craft in time, or else deemed it another whale, and so was rammed by the sharp steel prow.

"Suppose that had been a solid object, like a rock, or a submerged derelict?" asked Rob.

"We shouldn't be here now," rejoined Ensign Hargreaves calmly enough, but in his voice there was palpable evidence of the relief he felt at their narrow escape.

"I guess we'll stay on the surface for a while now," decided the inventor. Accordingly, the craft was put about and headed for the island at a good rate of speed. The return voyage was made without incident, except that Tubby caused much amusement by inquiring if whale flesh was edible, and if it was, he should enjoy a broiled whale steak for dinner.

When the shed was reached the bow of the submarine was elevated by means of powerful geared tackle provided for this purpose, and the job of substituting a new plate for the damaged one was begun. It was finished by sunset.

That afternoon Rob and Merritt took the shotguns and started for the other shore of the island to see if they could not bring down some shore birds. They tramped along the beach and met with some success. Their walk brought them to the opposite shore of the island, as has been said, and they found themselves in a desolate stretch of country, nothing but sand and brush and coarse shore grass.

They were discussing the odd nature of their mission on the island, when Merritt suddenly grasped his companion's arm and pointed seaward, toward another of the islands that have been mentioned as being scattered pretty closely in the vicinity. Rob was just in time to catch sight of a motor boat, seemingly a fast one, slipping behind the spot of land.

At the same instant a figure rose from the grass almost in front of them. It was Barton the machinist. He had apparently been concealed in the grass, and had not calculated on the boys discovering him.

"Well, what are you after now? Spying on me again, eh?" he snarled angrily.

"I don't know why you should say we were spying on you," rejoined Rob, "unless you are up to something wrong."

"What do you mean?" asked Barton, stepping quickly toward him as if to strike him.

The man's hand was upraised, but the determined way in which Rob met his angry glare caused him to drop it.

"I want you to quit followin' me around, that's all," he said.

"I guess this island's big enough to hold all of us," snapped Merritt, "and as for following you around, we have other and better occupations on our hands."

The machinist made an angry reply and set off across the island at a rapid pace. As he did so an odd incident took place on the island behind which the motor boat had vanished.

On a staff which the boys had not previously noticed a red flag began to glide up and down. Sometimes it was hoisted quickly and then again slowly.

"What in the world are they doing over there?" wondered Merritt.

"I can't make out unless they are a party of crazy campers amusing themselves," rejoined Rob; and then he suddenly burst out: "By Jove, I have it; they are signalling."

"But signalling what or who?"

"I haven't decided yet; but I wonder if the same thought has occurred to you as to me?"

"Namely, what?"

"Why, that Barton was watching those signals."

"You mean that they were intended for him?"

"That's what."

"But what would they be signalling him for?"

"Only one thing that I can think of. You know what the ensign said about spies; well, if that fellow Barton isn't up to some crooked work, why should he sneak off like this and be so anxious to hide from us when we happen along accidentally? Then, too, there's that paper covered with drawings that I found in the engine room."

"By ginger, I see what you are driving at. You think that Barton is a traitor, and is in league with those spies?"

"It's a grave accusation to make, but I can hit on no other explanation of his actions. He is angry at us because he thinks we may see too much. Look, they are still signalling."

"I wish we could read what they are saying."

"I think I can," rejoined Rob quietly.

"You can?"

"Yes."

"How are you going to do it?"

"By bringing my knowledge of Morse into play. I think that when the flag is run up slowly it means a dash and a quick run is a dot. Let's try it anyway."

Luckily the spot where the two boys were was grown with high, coarse grass, and the sand dunes rose high in places, affording protection for them.

As the flag rose and fell they spelled out a word according to the Morse code.

"That's 'Ready'," proclaimed Rob exultingly; "we have hit on their code, all right."

"They're still at it," exclaimed Merritt, as the flag continued its eccentric rises and falls; "what's next, I wonder?"

Dash – dash – dash – dash, spelled out the flag.

"That means 'to'," declared Rob.

"Yes, and there comes 'night'," exclaimed Merritt a moment later. "And now they've stopped. Let's see what message we've caught."

"Short and sweet," laughed Rob. "I guess we came in at the tail end of their confab. All we've got is 'Ready to-night'."

"Well, isn't that something?" demanded Merritt. "At all events it's a complete sentence and tells us that somebody will be ready for something to-night."

"Right you are, and that 'somebody' is to be Barton, I'll bet a doughnut."

"But ready for what?"

"That remains to be seen. I've always thought Barton would bear watching. I'm certain of it now, and if the submarine isn't mixed up in this tangle somewhere, call me a Chinaman."

"Are you going to tell the ensign about this?"

"Not till we have something more tangible to go upon. After all, we have proved nothing, but to-night we'll keep a close watch on Barton and in that way find out if our suspicions are correct or not."

And so it was arranged. The boys hunted a bit more, but somehow the strange signals and the peculiar behavior of Barton had got on their minds, and they gave up their sport earlier than they had expected and trudged back to camp to complete their arrangements for the night's work.

CHAPTER XVI.

SCOUTING FOR UNCLE SAM

"Rob! Rob! Rob!"

Merritt nudged his dozing companion as they lay near to the submarine shed, where they had taken up their position earlier in the night. Immediately after supper the lads had, apparently, slipped off to their tents; but as soon as they were sure that they were free from observation they had, in pursuance of their plans, taken up a position close to the sheltering place of the Peacemaker.

Rob had dozed off shortly before midnight, and the words at the beginning of this chapter formed Merritt's notification to him that it was time to bestir himself.

The boy, aroused at once from his nap, sat up at his comrade's summons.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"Look! Look yonder! Don't you see Barton sneaking toward the shed?"

There was no moon, but in the starlight Rob, thus admonished, could distinctly discern a shadowy figure gliding across the sand dunes to the submarine shed.

"It is Barton, sure enough!" he exclaimed in a low, tense voice. "I guess we were right, Merritt, when we read that 'Ready to-night' message."

"We sure were," was the response; "the question now is, what is that fellow up to?"

"Some sort of mischief, just as we surmised," was the reply. "Let's do an Indian crawl toward the shed and see what we can find out."

The next instant both boys were noiselessly wriggling their way on their stomachs toward the shed into the interior of which Barton had, by this time, vanished. It was easy work to make a noiseless advance over the soft sand, but so thoroughly had both the Boy Scouts practiced the maneuver of silent advance that even had the ground been different, it is likely that they could have approached unheard.

Right up to the very walls of the shed they wriggled their way and then, placing their eyes to a crack in the timbers, they peered in. By the yellow light of a lantern Barton had lighted they saw him dive down into the interior of the submarine and emerge, ere long, with several rolled sheets of paper.

The fellow did not appear to labor under anxiety that he was being watched, for he went boldly about his business, taking no apparent pains to screen the light or to move noiselessly. Having emerged from the submarine and reached once more the door of the shed, he extinguished the light and glided out into the night like a half-embodied form.

Merritt half leaped to his feet as he saw the fellow making off, but Rob drew his companion down into their place of concealment with a whispered,

"Hold on. Don't spoil everything now by betraying our presence. Let him get a little way and we'll follow him."

"But we may lose him in the darkness," objected Merritt.

"I scarcely think so," was the rejoinder; "in fact, I have a pretty good idea where he is bound for."

"And where may that be?"

"The place in which he lay this afternoon to read those signals from the distant island. Depend upon it, he is going to meet the men who manipulated that flag!"

"By hooky! That's so, Rob. What a mind you have for figuring out things! Of course, it's plain enough now that he is betraying Mr. Barr by giving drawings and plans of the submarine to Mr. Barr's enemies, but I didn't think he'd take so bold a method."

"There's nothing very bold about it," retorted Rob. "He is a trusted man, and has been given every opportunity to be dishonest, if it so suits him."

"I guess that's right; but it's our duty to thwart him."

"You just bet it is, and we'll do it, too, if it's possible. See, there he goes over the top of that sand dune. I could see his figure silhouetted against the sky. I reckon it's safe now to take after him."

"All right, you say when."

"I'll give the word right here. Silently, now; remember he is on the outlook for some interference with his plans, and a false move may spoil everything."

"Don't worry about me. A first class Scout should be able to carry through a simple little thing like this."

"Don't be too sure it's simple," admonished Rob, as they silently rose from their crouching postures and took after the vague shadow; "this thing may turn out to be bigger than we thought."

"Have you laid any plans as to what you will do if we do apprehend him in the act of transferring the plans to Mr. Barr's enemies?"

"Not yet. There's no use crossing a bridge till you come to it."

Through the night the boys pursued their quarry as silently as two snakes. At times they lost sight of him, but always his figure would loom up against the star-sprinkled sky as he topped a sand dune. At length they saw him pause and light the lantern, which he had used in the shed, and which he still carried.

This done, he swung the light twice across his body, after the fashion of a brakeman signalling a train to come ahead.

Instantly, out of the darkness, flashed an answering beacon – a red light. The boys clasped each other's arms. That they were on the brink of an exciting adventure they did not doubt. But in each lad's heart was a firm resolve that, come what might, they would do their duty by Uncle Sam.

"Was that red light shown from the other island?" whispered Merritt.

"No, I am inclined to think it came from that launch we saw sneaking in behind the island this afternoon just before the signalling commenced," was the response.

"In that case, she must be still far out?"

"Yes; but in any event they would have to send a boat ashore. That launch is too large to land on the beach directly."

As if in answer to his opinion the watching boys presently saw a red light creeping over the water toward the island. Undoubtedly it came from a small boat, so low on the water was it.

Before long they could detect the splash of oars, although whoever was rowing the boat was trying to make as little noise as possible.

As the light drew close in shore, Merritt seized Rob's arm.

"What's the next move?" he asked.

"It looks as if it were ours," was the quiet, but determined, rejoinder.

CHAPTER XVII.

ROB'S BRAVE ACT

While the boys had been watching, Barton had lain down, as though tired, on the summit of a near-by dune. As the red light came close in shore, however, he arose, and once more waved his lantern.

At the signal the course of the red light shifted and headed directly toward him. The boys' hearts beat thickly; the time for action was at hand. The bow of the boat they had seen approaching grated on the beach, and two figures sprang out while Barton advanced to meet them.

"Get as close as you can," whispered Rob, as he wriggled forward; "we want to get every word."

Merritt merely nodded; but his silent advance was as rapid as his leader's. Owing to the nature of the ground, they were able to run forward in an almost upright position when they reached the hollows of the dunes, being compelled to cast themselves down only when they topped a rise. Therefore, they were within ear shot when Barton greeted the two men who had disembarked from the boat.

"Well," said one of the newcomers in a voice which plainly betrayed his foreign origin; "well, did you do as you said you would?"

"Yes," responded Barton; "I've got the drawings here. They are not complete, however, and you will have to give me more time."

"As you were told at Bridgeport, before you left for this island, you can have all the time you want, only make the job complete."

"You can depend upon me to do that," was the response. "So long as I'm well paid, I'll sell out all I know, and that's about everything about the Barr submarine."

Here another voice, that of the second man who had left the boat, struck in:

"What about the models?"

"I've got them hidden up here in the sand," came Barton's voice in reply. "I'd have had them ready but two blooming kids trailed me here."

"Trailed you? What do you mean?" demanded the voice of the man who had first spoken and who, with the solitary exception noted, had carried on most of the conversation.

"Why, this Ensign Hargreaves, this Navy dude, saw fit to bring a band of Boy Scouts down here. They're the nosiest kids ever, and I half think they suspect me of not being all I appear to be."

"That's a good guess," whispered Rob to Merritt.

Merritt could not refrain from a quiet chuckle.

"As a long distance and local guesser, Barton takes the palm," he breathed.

"Hush!" murmured Rob under his breath: "What are they up to now?"

"Going to dig up those models, I guess. Barton must have stolen them from the workshop at odd moments."

Right then something happened that gave Merritt a shock. Rob rose to his feet and started toward the beach. The men that the two Boy Scouts were watching had headed inland, evidently to aid Barton in uncovering the hidden models.

"Have you gone crazy, Rob? Lie down here," cautioned Merritt.

"Not much," was the response; "I'm going to do some reconnoitering while I've got the chance."

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm going down to have a look at that boat, and if I can I'm going to shove her off and thus leave those men prisoners on the island."

"By ginger, Rob, you are a great fellow for ideas. If only you can cast the boat adrift, we'll have those chaps bottled up as securely as if they were in a jail."

"Wait here till I come," responded the boy leader. "I won't be gone more than ten minutes."

"I'd like to come with you, Rob."

"No; this is a job I can do best alone."

Rob noiselessly slipped away. The boat from which the mysterious men had landed was plainly discernible as a black blot on the sandy beach. Rob tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but against the white strip of sand he felt as noticeable as an elephant. However, he gained the boat without interruption.

Its bow had been built up, apparently, to make it more seaworthy, and the boy noticed that a small door had been cut leading into the space beneath the raised bow. He had hardly discovered this when he was startled to hear voices close at hand.

It was Barton and his crooked accomplices coming back. Fortunately for Rob, they were behind a dune, so that it was impossible for them to observe him. But in a moment, the boy realized with a thrill, they would be upon him.

Quick as a flash, and hardly realizing what he was doing, Rob sought the only place of concealment close at hand – the space under the raised bow of the boat. He had hardly squeezed into his cramped quarters before the trio of rascals topped the rise.

Rob, with a sinking of the heart, realized at that moment that it would have been better for him to have taken his chances and run away from the scene. But it was too late now. With something that was not exactly fear, but very like it, Rob recognized the fact that he was a concealed passenger, a stowaway, on board a boat on which his presence might cost him his life.

As these reflections ran through his mind the men drew closer, talking about the "clever" work they had done.

"I guess Barr and his Peacemaker can say good-bye to Uncle Sam now," laughed one of them.

"Yes, and the best of it is that Barton will never be suspected," responded the other. "Our government will be manufacturing submarines of the Barr type, while Barr and the United States Government are still in blissful ignorance of the fact that all efforts are for nothing."

"You can bet I never put through a job unless I do it right," struck in Barton with great self-complacency.

Rob, crouched in his cramped place of concealment, flushed with anger. Right then and there he determined that, come what might, he would see this strange adventure of his through to the bitter end. This resolve was still in his mind when the two men shoved the boat off, bade good-night to the rascally Barton, and, all unconscious of their secreted passenger, got under way.

"If I get out of this alive, I'll be lucky," soliloquized Rob as he heard the oars and felt the boat moving through the water. "I wonder if I've done right? At any rate I'm in it now, and, as a Boy Scout, I'm going to see it through."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE ISLAND HUT

Rob, in his place of concealment, could hear the two men talking as they rowed.

Their conversation related, in the main, to the affairs of the night. Apparently, so far as Rob could gather, the stealing of the plans of the submarine was not yet complete. It appeared that Barton was to remain on the island in his capacity as trusted aide to Mr. Barr, and to gather up all he could of the details of the new submarine, down to the smallest particular.

Scarcely daring to breathe, Rob listened with all his might to the conversation of the oarsmen.