CHAPTER XII
THE SUBMARINE BELL
Kennedy groped about for a light, stumbling over boxes and bags.
"For heaven's sake, Craig," I entreated. "Be careful. Those packages arefull of the devilish things!"
He said nothing.
At least we had a little more freedom to move and I managed to find myway over to a little round porthole and open it.
As I looked out, I almost fainted at the realization. The _Furious_ wasunder way! We were locked in the hold--virtual prisoners--our onlycompany those dastardly infernal machines, whose very nature we did notknow!
Helplessly I gazed around me. There seemed to be only this one porthole,open, looking out over the dark and turbulent water, which slippedominously past as we gained speed.
Why had Kennedy not foreseen this risk? I glanced at him. He had foundan electric light, connected with the yacht's dynamo, and, beforeturning it on, closed and covered the port so that it threw noreflection out.
Far from being disconcerted, on the contrary, he seemed rather pleasedthan otherwise at the unexpected turn of events.
As I looked at our scant and cramped quarters I could see absolutely noway of getting word to anyone off the _Furious_ who might help us.
What he was working on I did not know, but if it was some sort ofwireless, even if we were able to send a message, what hope was therethat it would get past the delicate wireless detector which thiscriminal must have somewhere near for tapping messages that were beingflashed through the air? Had we not heard him say that the signal was tobe an S O S sent, as it were, from the fleet far out on the ocean?
I could well have believed that Kennedy could rig up some means ofcommunication. But, if the possessor of this terrible infra-red ray, orwireless wave, secret should learn that we, too, knew it, the onlyresult that he would accomplish would be to insure our destructionimmediately.
It was a foggy night and a drizzle had set in. The _Furious_ could notunder such circumstances make such good speed as she was accustomed tomake. Fortunately, also, the waves were not running high.
Craig had taken a desperate chance. How would he meet it? I watched himat work, fascinated by our peril.
Finishing as quickly as he could, he put out our sole electric light,unscrewed the bulb and attached to the socket a wire which he hadconnected with the instrument over which he had spent so many preciousmoments.
Through the little porthole he cast a peculiar disk, heavy, such as Ihad seen him place so carefully aboard the _Uncas_.
It sank in the water with a splash and trailed along beside the yacht,held by a wire, submerged, perhaps, ten or twelve feet.
He made a final inspection of the thing as well as he could by the lightof a match, then pressed a key which seemed to close a circuit.
I could feel a dull, metallic vibration, as it were.
"What are you doing?" I asked, looking curiously also at an arrangement,like a microphone, which he had placed over his ears.
"It works!" he cried excitedly.
"What works?" I reiterated.
"This Fessenden oscillator," he explained. "It's a system for theemployment of sound for submarine signals. I don't know whether yourealize it, but great advance has been made recently since it wassuggested to use water instead of air as the medium for transmittingsignals. I can't stop to explain this apparatus just now, but it iscomposed of a ring magnet, a copper tube which lies in an air gap of amagnetic field, and a stationary central armature. The magnetic field ismuch stronger than that in the ordinary dynamo.
"The copper tube, which has an alternating current induced in it, isattached to solid disks of steel which in turn are attached to a steeldiaphragm an inch thick. In the _Uncas_ I had a chance to make thatdiaphragm practically a part of the side of the ship. Here I have had tohang it overboard, with a large water-tight diaphragm attached to theoscillator."
I listened eagerly, even if I were not an electrical engineer.
"The same oscillator," he went on, "is used for sending and receiving,for, like the ordinary electric motor it is also capable of acting as agenerator, and a very efficient one, too. All I have to do is to throw aswitch in one direction when I want to telegraph or telephone underwater, and in the other direction when I want to listen in."
I could scarcely credit what I heard. Craig had circumvented even thespectacular wireless. He was actually talking through water. Craig hadvirtually endowed himself with a sixth sense!
I watched him spellbound. Would he succeed in whatever it was that hewas planning? I waited anxiously.
"There's the answer!" he exclaimed in sudden exultation. "Burke is onthe _Uncas_. He tells me that he went to see Mrs. Petzka and she is withhim--insisted on going, when she heard that her husband had been engagedby the _Furious_."
He waited a moment.
"You see, Walter," he resumed, "what I am doing is to send out signalsby which the _Uncas_ can locate and follow us. She is fast, but, thankheaven, this yacht has to go slow tonight. Sound travels in water at avelocity of about four thousand feet a second. For instance, I find thatI get an echo in about one-twentieth of a second. That is the reflectedsound wave from the bottom, and indicates that we are in water of aboutone hundred feet depth. Then I get another echo in something over twoseconds. That is the waves reflected from the _Uncas_, which has beenhovering about, waiting for something to happen. They can't be much morethan a mile and a half away, now. I had expected to signal them from theshore, a dock or something of the sort, using this oscillator to getaround that fellow's wireless. But we're much better off on the boat."
I looked at him in amazement. "Surrounded by all this junk that may blowus to kingdom come any second?" I demanded.
"Burke says steam is still up on all the ships tied up in the harbor sothat they can make a dash for it. They are evidently waiting for that SO S signal."
"That's all right," I said in desperation, "But suppose they blow us up,first?"
"Blow us up first?" he repeated. "Why, don't you understand? It is notthe _Furious_ that they are after. The whole war fleet that is hangingaround in this part of the Atlantic is to be blown up in mid-ocean, aspart of the plan to aid the escape of the interned ships in New York."
"Oh," I breathed, with a sigh of relief, "that's it, is it?"
"Yes. We'll get in bad all around if we can't stop it--Burke with theSecret Service and ourselves with Gaskell, who doesn't dream that hisyacht is being used for the exact opposite of the purpose for which hethinks he has lent it--to say nothing of the mess that our governmentwill have to face for letting these precious schemers play ducks anddrakes with our neutrality."
We waited eagerly, Kennedy sending out and receiving the submarinesignals, and I peering out anxiously into the almost impenetrable fog.
Suddenly, apparently from nowhere in the shifting mist, lights seemed toloom up. Instead of stopping, however, the _Furious_ put on a suddenburst of reckless speed.
The _Uncas_ was no match for her at that game. Would she escape finally,after all?
A sharp report rang out. The _Uncas_ had sent a shot across our bows, sodangerously close that it snapped one of the cables that held the mast.
The vibration of our engine slowed, and ceased, and we lay, idlywallowing in the waves as the revenue cutter, bearing our friend Burkeand help, came up.
A couple of boats put out from the cutter and in almost no time we couldhear the tread of feet and the exchange of harsh words as the governmentofficers swarmed up the ladder to our deck.
It was only a moment later that the hatch was broken open and we heardthe welcome brogue of Burke, calling, "Kennedy--are you and Jameson allright?"
"Right here," sang out Craig, detaching the oscillator and replacing theelectric bulb, which he lighted.
The commotion on deck was too great for anyone to make much of findingus, two stowaways. The Countess was surprised, however, and, I felt,rather glad to see us at a time when we might, possibly exert someinfluence in her favor
if matters came to a more serious pass.
There was scarcely time for a word. Burke's men were working quickly.They had entered the hold, after a word from Kennedy, and far out intothe ocean they were casting the boxes and bags overboard, one at a time,as fast as they could. They worked feverishly, as Burke spurred them on,and I must say that it was with the utmost relief that I saw the thingsthrown over.
The boxes sank, but rose again and floated, bobbing up and down, atleast some of them, perhaps a third above water and two-thirds below.
It was not for several minutes that I noticed that with those who hadcome aboard the _Furious_ from the cutter stood Bettina Petzka. A momentlater she caught sight of Kennedy.
"Where is my husband?" she demanded, running to him.
Kennedy had no chance to reply.
Suddenly a series of flashes shattered the darkness. A terrific roarseemed to rise from the very ocean, while a rain of sparks lighted upgreat spurts of water and then fell back, to perish in the dark waves.The _Furious_ trembled from end to end.
We looked, startled, at each other. But we were all safe. The things hadbeen detonated in the water.
"Only the fact that he would have blown himself up prevented him fromblowing up the yacht and all the evidence against him, now that we havediscovered his plot," cried Burke, excitedly, dashing down the deck.
Recovered scarcely from our surprise at the explosion and the queeractions of the Secret Service man, we rushed after him as best we could,Craig leading.
He led the way to the little wireless room. The door was bolted on theinside, but we managed soon to burst it open.
I shall never forget the surprise which greeted us. In a chair, boundand gagged, as though he had been overcome only after a struggle, satPetzka.
Mrs. Petzka threw herself frantically on him, tearing at the stout cordsthat held him.
"Nikola--what is the matter?" she cried. "What has happened?"
Through his gag, which she had loosened a bit, he made a peculiar,gurgling noise. As nearly as I could make out, he was struggling to say,"He came in--surprised me--seized me--locked the door."
Julia Rovigno stood rooted to the spot--utterly speechless.
There, surrounded by electric batteries, condensers, projectors,regulators, resonators, reflectors, voltmeters, and ammeters, queerapparatus which he had smuggled secretly on the _Furious_, before astrange sort of device, with a wireless headgear still over his ears,stood the owner of at least two of the liners of the belligerents whichwere to have made the dash for the ocean after he had succeeded by hisnew wireless ray device in removing the hostile fleet--Count Rovignohimself.