CHAPTER IX
THE BATTLE BENEATH THE RIVER
As they crouched there, Frank's voice was taking on a frightened toneand Tom could now hear it much more plainly. But Tom's mind was filledwith the danger of being discovered and he scarcely dared reply, forsomehow, although there was no foundation for his fears, he was filledwith a terrible dread of these under-sea workers, these unknownmysterious divers who had lifted the ominous-looking metal cylinderthrough the trapdoor in the disused sewer. That, even if they heard himand his friends, they could not trail them or locate them under waternever occurred to him. In fact, he had quite forgotten that he andRawlins were under water or were as invisible to others a few yards awayas other objects were to them. He felt as though he could be as easilyseen as if on land, and that, if he spoke, his words would at oncebetray his whereabouts. But he also realized that Frank's voice could beheard by others as well as by himself and so, steeling himself to theeffort, he called back, "It's all right. Don't worry. Stop talking andlisten."
Instantly, Frank's voice ceased and Tom drew a breath of relief and thenhe gulped and pressed close to Rawlins, for before him in the water, asif attracted by the sounds of his voice, the two dim forms of thestrange divers once more appeared. For a space they remained motionlessas though listening and perspiration broke out on Tom's forehead andchills ran up and down his spine as he heard distinctly the sounds oflow-toned words in the same guttural tongue, and he was certain,positive, that his voice had been heard, that the others were strivingto locate him, and that at any moment Frank or Henry might becomecurious or impatient and speak. In his terrified mind he could picturethose big, sickly green, distorted beings creeping towards him, theirwide-flung arms waving uncertainly like the tentacles of a huge octopusas they lurched forward; he could imagine the fixed, expressionlessstare of those great goggle-eyed glasses in the squat neckless helmetsand, as the current caused light and shadow to waver and change, thefigures seemed actually moving towards his hiding place.
It was terrible; he no longer thought of them as fellow men, no longerlooked upon them as human beings; his fears had transformed them tosubmarine monsters, weird, uncanny, intelligent but bloodthirstycreatures, and so great was the tension, so fearful the vision conjuredup by his overwrought imagination that he would have screamed had hismouth not been parched and dry and incapable of uttering a sound. It waslike a nightmare, a dream in which one is powerless to move or to cryout; where one cannot compel muscles or mind to function; where onefeels that it cannot be real, cannot be possible and yet is filled withsweating, blood-curdling terror that it is. And then, after what seemedhours of torture, but was barely ten seconds from the time the men hademerged from the sewer, their voices ceased and to Tom's inexpressiblerelief they appeared to fade into the murky green water. They weremoving away, soundlessly, mysteriously, without visible effort, and Tomnoticed with his fright-filled eyes that above them was poised anindistinct, cigar-shaped object, the same torpedolike affair he had seenlifted from the sewer, and he realized that somehow, by some means, themen were dragging this along with them into the dim, green distance.
He was aroused by Rawlins' whisper and a touch on his arm.
"I'm going to follow," were the barely audible words. "No danger. Mustsee where they go. Come on."
Recovering from his fright, now that the divers were retreating, andrather reassured by the sound of his companion's voice and words Tommoved forward from the wall but still grasping Rawlins' hand.
They could not see the figures before them, for the muck stirred up bythe others' passage concealed them as effectually as a smoke screen, butit also served to betray their whereabouts and to conceal Tom andRawlins as well. For some distance--several hundred yards Tomthought--they moved along, following close to the wall that bounded theshore and ever with the slowly drifting column of muddy water to guidethem.
Once or twice the murk seemed to drift away, and each time Rawlinsinstantly halted, waiting to see if those they were trailing had come toa stop, but each time the mud again rose before them and they resumedtheir way.
Tom had no idea of the distance or direction they had traveled. Theeffort he made to walk was his only guide and he knew that the sameeffort, the same number of steps on land, would have carried him a longway, but he also knew that under water his progress was snail-like, thata step might carry one a few inches or several feet or not at all,depending upon the current, and he wondered vaguely if Rawlins knew hisway, if he could find his way back, or if he intended to bob to thesurface to get his bearings when he finally decided to return to thedock. And Tom smiled to himself as he pictured the looks of surprise,the screams of fright which would greet their unexpected and suddenappearance if Rawlins did this and they should bob up beside somecrowded recreation pier or ferry ship. But Rawlins had halted again.
Before them now the mud was thinning out, the water was being sweptclear of silt and Rawlins drew Tom beside him behind a huge block ofstone which had been dumped at the base of the wall. Slowly andgradually the water cleared. It was evident that those they werefollowing were no longer stirring up the mud and so must have come to astop and, as the sediment drifted off and the dim green light filteredthrough the water, Tom peered into the vast illimitable void. It waslike looking through thick green glass or like glass made half-opaque byone's breath upon it and for a time Tom could see nothing. Then, as thewater became still clearer, he saw the faint outlines of timbers andspiles and a dark object looming ominously, like a cloud, which herecognized as the bottom of some vessel. Against the lighter water overhis head, a shadow passed and the greenness quivered and wavered and heknew a small boat was being rowed above them; but no sign could he seeof those they had been following.
Then Tom noticed something else, something that rose above the darkbottom of the river as a darker mass, something that resembled a greatbank of mud or a reef of rock. Irregular in outline, dark green as seenthrough the water, unlike anything he had ever seen, yet somehow it hada vaguely familiar look; it did not seem quite like mud or rock of anynatural formation, but rather like some sort of boat. Yes, that wasit--like the hull of a boat--it reminded him of a picture of a sunkenwreck. Perhaps it was. Yes, now that the thought had entered his head,he could see that it was a wreck; he could make out the stump of a mast,the remains of deck houses, something like portions of rails. But whatwas it doing here? Why should a sunken hulk be lying in the East River?Of course it was out of the channel, it was lying partly beneath a dockor pier and Tom noticed that the spiles of the pier sagged and thatseveral were broken off under water. Evidently the pier was an old one,perhaps disused, and maybe the old hulk had been sunk during some firewhich had destroyed the pier at the same time.
All these thoughts flashed through Tom's mind as he peered into the dimgreenness and then all were wiped from his brain as he caught a glimpseof the two divers moving from among the spiles. Tom was as much at seaas ever as to the distances under water. He could not tell whether thewreck was fifty or five hundred feet away. He was not at all sure that,if he reached out, he could not touch the old hulk or even the movingforms. The next moment the two had reached the side of the wreck andthen, to Tom's amazement, they seemed to disappear within it, to stepthrough the sides as though it were only a shadow in the water.
"Gosh," he ejaculated unconsciously, "they went into that wreck!"
"Wreck!" came Rawlins' whispered words. "Wreck! That's no wreck. That'sa submarine. That's their hangout!"
So absolutely thunderstruck was Tom at Rawlins' words that he could noteven reply. But now he saw that what he had mistaken for a waterloggedsunken hulk was indeed an under-sea boat, a submarine and a big one. Hehad never seen a submarine except from above water before. He had noidea how such a craft would appear under water. He did not realize thatthe narrow deck almost awash, the tiny superstructure and conning towerwhich are all the landsman sees are but a very small portion of asubmarine's whole; that out of sight, and never exposed above thesurface of the sea,
is a big boat-shaped hull with rudders andpropellers; that the cigar-shaped Jules Verne type of submersible sofamiliar in fiction is not a thing of fact; and that the modernsubmarine if seen under water might easily be mistaken for an ordinaryvessel's hull.
It was not at all surprising therefore that Tom had mistaken thesubmerged craft for the hulk of a steamer or ship, for submarines werethe last thing in his mind and no one would have dreamed of seeing onehere beneath the surface of the East River.
Now, however, Tom could see that what he had mistaken for the stump of amast was the conning tower; what he had thought were shattered deckhouses and rails were the superstructure; and he could now even make outthe lateral horizontal rudders and the vertical rudder and screws.
But this made the mystery still greater. It was even more wonderful tofind a submarine here than a sunken vessel. Of course, Tom knew therewere plenty of the navy's submarines forever knocking about, and for aninstant it occurred to him that it was one of these engaged in makingsome test and that the divers whom they had seen were members of theboat's crew.
Then instantly he remembered the men had spoken in a foreign tongue,that they had carried a mysterious object to the trapdoor in the sewer,and that they had taken the same or a duplicate object from the sewer.
It was all inexplicable, puzzling, unfathomable.
Rawlins' voice recalled him to the present.
"They've gone," said the diver. "I want to find out who and what she is.You stay here. I'll be away only a moment."
As he spoke, he released Tom's hand and with a final caution for the boynot to follow or move away, Rawlins floundered towards the submarine.
Interestedly Tom watched him. He noticed that Rawlins did not stir upthe mud and then, for the first time, he discovered that the bottom washard and sandy. Somehow all sense of fear and danger had left him. Howfoolish he had been, to be sure! No doubt, he thought to himself, it wasthe unexpected appearance of the men and their grotesque forms which hadaroused his imagination. There was Rawlins, still moving away andlooking as terrible and awesome as had the others--even more so, ifanything, with his proboscis-like helmet topped by its grid and thecontainer on his shoulders giving him the appearance of beinghumpbacked.
He wondered how far the submarine was from where he stood. Rawlins nowseemed close to it and yet he could not possibly tell whether his friendwas really near to the craft or not. It was all most interesting, mostbaffling and most unreal and dreamlike. He wondered what Frank and Henrywould think of his long silence. He wondered if they could hear him orhe could hear them. Surely there would be no danger in speaking now.Even if those in the submarine heard him they could not tell whether itwas some one under or above the water who was speaking. Why hadn't hethought of that before? There never _had_ been any danger. Of course, ifthese men had under-sea radio they must hear messages from those on landas well as the boys.
In that case they would never have had suspicions if they had overheardthe boys' conversation. They would never dream that others possessed theapparatus and would have assumed that the speakers were on shore. Therewas no danger; he was sure of it, and he was about to call to Frank whenhis attention was arrested by Rawlins' actions.
Tom had been idly watching him and had seen him reach the submarine. Hehad seen Rawlins moving around the craft, evidently examining it, and hehad lost sight of him as Rawlins had slipped around the blunt bow. Butnow Rawlins suddenly appeared, backing into view, waving his arms tomaintain his balance and floundering. And he held something in one hand,something that he waved menacingly above his head, some object thatglittered even in the dull, subdued, green light.
For the space of a second, Tom was puzzled and then he knew. It wasRawlins' hatchet! Something or some one was attacking him and scarcelyhad this knowledge flashed through Tom's mind when, from behind thesubmarine, the two figures appeared, clutching arms pawing at the wateras if swimming, bodies bent far forward, their every attitude, everymotion betokening speed, speaking of straining efforts to come withinreach of Rawlins, despite his threatening, keen-edged hatchet.
Wildly excited, filled with deadly fear, terrorized at Rawlins' plightas was Tom, yet through his mind ran the thought, the subconsciousfeeling, that it was all unreal--a dream or a delusion. It wasunspeakably and inexpressibly uncanny to see the three men evidentlyexerting every effort and yet moving so silently and slowly, seeming tofloat like weightless bodies in some semi-transparent, green medium. Itreminded Tom of a slow motion picture--one of the films where a man or ahorse, leaping a hurdle, appears to float lightly as a bit ofthistledown through the air--and watching, the boy was fascinated. Butonly for the briefest moment.
Scarcely had the three come within Tom's view when Rawlins stumbled overan upjutting stub of spiling, the hatchet flew from his hand and beforehe could half rise the others were upon him.
At this, the spell was broken. Tom screamed aloud and the next instant,like a voice from another sphere, he heard Frank speaking.
"What is the matter, Tom? What's wrong?" came in troubled, worriedtones. "Why _did_ you yell?"
Here then was help. They were still within reach of those ashore and interse, excited, fear-wrung tones Tom answered.
"Help! Send for help!" he yelled, entirely forgetting that no one knewwhere he was or where to send help even if help could have reached themthere under the river.
"It's awful!" he continued. "Two men--divers--from a submarine--fightingwith Mr. Rawlins! They're attacking him--struggling with him! Get Dad,get the police!"
Then, faint and as from a vast distance, he heard Frank's voice callingexcitedly for Mr. Pauling's telephone number. He knew his chum wassummoning aid and he sat rigid, watching with staring eyes the struggletaking place beneath the river. Rawlins had arisen; by a tremendouseffort he had flung aside one man, but the other was grappling with him,fighting desperately, and as Tom saw something flash in the water abovethe struggling men's heads he realized that the stranger held a knife.
Now they had drawn closer, they were some distance from the submarineand the very instant Tom noticed this a wild cry of alarm rang in hisears.
At the sound, Tom saw one man start to plunge towards the under-seaboat, and to the boy's astonishment he saw that the craft was moving andwas slipping rapidly from its resting place. Although the man struggleddesperately to reach it he might as well have stood still, for scarcelydid Tom realize that the submarine was under way ere it was a mereshadow and a second later had faded into the murky green.
And now Tom saw that Rawlins was the aggressor, the man who had beenchasing the submarine was swaying drunkenly, whirling in a half-circle,his arms waving helplessly, while his companion had broken away fromRawlins and was standing, with hands upraised, and backing slowly awayfrom the latter who leaned towards him with the other's knife in hishand.
"Kamarad!" Tom heard in thick tones. "Kamarad!" and the boy's heartjumped as he heard the words of surrender, the words which had become sofamiliar to thousands of men in the trenches, and Tom, with a shock ofsurprise, realized that the divers were Germans.
Now he could hear Rawlins' words, spoken as if to himself or as if hethought the others could hear.
"Yes, you dirty skunk!" Tom caught. "I'll tell the world you'llsurrender. All right, right about face and forward march and no nonsenseor I'll puncture that suit and your hide under it."
And then Tom's brain had another sudden jolt. Of course the German couldhear. Of course Rawlins had heard his cry of surrender. What a dolt hehad been! They had radio sets, they could hear everything that was saidas readily as he could. That was why they had given up the fight, yesthat was it, that was why the submarine had cleared out. They had heardhis cry for help, had heard him tell Frank to summon police. How couldthey know that their whereabouts was not known, that it was mere chancethat he and Rawlins had stumbled upon them? No doubt they imagined theyhad been watched, trailed and surrounded and the submarine, rather thanrun the risk of being captured, had deserted the two men at the f
irstsound of alarm being given. It was all clear to Tom now. The battle wasover. Rawlins was victorious, the men were his prisoners. Now Rawlinswas speaking again and Tom saw that the second man was beinghalf-dragged along by his fellow. But Rawlins' words aroused Tom toinstant activity.
"Are you all right, Tom?" asked Rawlins. "Come over here. We need ahand. This chap's hurt somehow. Can't get an answer out of him. Shortcircuited or something. We've got to get him out somehow."
Lunging forward, Tom bumped into Rawlins before he had taken six stepsand gave a startled exclamation. Was it possible the fight had takenplace so close? But he had no time to think on this matter. The secondman was helpless, dead, as far as appearances went, and Rawlins,stooping quickly, cut the lead-soled boots from his feet.
Thus relieved of the weights, the body partly floated and with Tomholding to one arm and the captured man grasping the other, whileRawlins kept a hand on Tom and directed the way, the strange under-seaprocession floundered through the water, along the wall, past the blacksewer mouth and towards Rawlins' dock.
And now Tom again heard Frank's voice.
"Where are you?" it asked. "Your father's coming. How can they find you?Are you all right?"
"Everything's all right," answered Tom. "We're coming back. Be theresoon!"
Hardly a minute later, Tom saw the familiar piers near their own dock.He had thought they had wandered far, but they had not been two hundredyards distant at any time. A moment later, they reached the foot of theladder.
Telling Tom to go up, Rawlins half lifted the unconscious man and with agruff warning to his fellow started to mount the rungs. Evidently thewords were heard by the anxious, waiting boys above, for Tom heardFrank's shout of joy and he called back as he drew himself towards theopen trap.
But before his head emerged from the water, a crash like thunder soundedin his ears, there was a sound of tramping, hurrying footsteps, shoutsand cries and Tom's brain reeled. What was happening? Had the men'sconfederates learned of their capture? Were their fellows breaking intothe laboratory to rescue them? Were the ruffians wreaking vengeance onFrank and Henry?