While Pat was on duty in the conning tower, Tim recounted in detail toCommander Ford just what had taken place in Key West. When he wasthrough the Commander looked extremely grave.
"Now that Sladek knows we are bound for an island off the coast ofYucatan, our only hope is for speed. It may take him several days tolocate us after we are there, but with his seaplane he is certain to dothat. We'll continue ahead as fast as possible and once over the wreckof the Southern Queen we'll lose no time in going down and getting whatwe can."
Only Commander Ford knew the exact location of the island they soughtoff the coast of Yucatan. As the hours rolled into days, the tensionaboard the _S-18_ grew. There had been no further sign of the _IronMate_ and they wondered whether Sladek was ahead or behind.
Tim wrote a story each day and Ike Green flashed it over his powerfulset to the station of the New York Journal, where it was relayed toTim's own paper at Atkinson.
The third night after Tim joined the _S-18_ out of Key West he felt thepulse of the diesels slowing down. He tossed on his clothes and madehis way to the control room and climbed the ladder to the conningtower. Commander Ford and Pat were intently scanning the horizon.
Pat turned toward Tim.
"We'll reach the island about dawn," he said.
Commander Ford was looking at a chart with a hand torch. One fingerstopped at a tiny island off the coast of Yucatan.
"That's our destination," he said. "If Crazy John knew what he wastalking about, the Southern Queen went down on a reef just off the Isleof the Singing Trees."
"What island?" asked Tim.
"The Isle of the Singing Trees. It's marked here on the chart and isuninhabited."
The _S-18_ crept through the thinning night at half speed and with thecoming of the dawn, they saw the outline of the island. It was smalland seemed barely able to keep its head above the restless Caribbean.Breakers, indicating the danger of hidden reefs, fringed the isle.Through the powerful glasses they could see a dense tangle ofvegetation and beyond the Isle of the Singing Trees the dim outlines ofthe mainland, which was still shrouded by the morning mists.
The pulses of the men aboard the _S-18_ quickened. They were withinsight of their goal.
Tim scanned the surface of the ocean. There was no sign of the _IronMate_, not even a faint smudge of smoke to cause them apprehension.
Commander Ford ordered the Diesels stopped. A piping hot breakfast wasserved to every member of the crew and then the slow, creeping triptoward the island was resumed.
As they neared the desolate spot, Tim could understand why Crazy Johnhad not cared to return. There was nothing beautiful about the Isle ofthe Singing Trees. The beach was rough and strewn with rock and as theyapproached the island they heard the singing of the wind through thetangled growth. Truly the island had been well named.
The island had never been adequately charted, and Commander Ford wasfeeling his way past the dangerous reefs, one of which had brought asudden end to the Southern Queen eleven years before.
Jagged splinters of rock reached up from the ocean bottom to impale thehull of the _S-18_, but each time the skilful hands of her commanderdirected the submarine past the danger spot. There was a brisk wind,and waves broke sharply over the hull, but at last the _S-18_ was pastthe outer rim of rock which encircled the island and safely into thesmoother water. Everyone breathed easier as the order to let go theanchor came from the conning tower and the mud hook was dropped sharplyaway.
Two sturdy boats, both collapsible, were brought up from the divingcompartment and assembled on the deck. Charlie Gill and Russ Graham,the chief divers, checked over their equipment and Pat gave Tim a handin loosening the fastenings which held the seaplane to the deck.
Joe Gartner even found time to polish his beloved four inch gun and Timfelt that Joe was secretly praying for a chance to get into actionagainst the _Iron Mate_.
When the first boat was lowered into the water, Commander Ford steppedinto the stern and Charlie Gill and Russ Graham manned the oars. Thecommander was going to waste no time in attempting to locate the wreckof the treasure ship.
The crew of the _S-18_, clustered on deck, watched the progress of thesmall boat as it bobbed about inside the reefs. Both Gill and CommanderFord were busy making soundings while the other diver handled the boat.Back and forth they crept along the reef, their lines dragging thebottom for some sign of the Southern Queen.
The hours slipped away and the other boat, in charge of Pat, joined thefirst in the quest for the location of the old vessel.
Tim remained on deck, squatting in the shadow of the seaplane. IkeGreen joined him.
"Why don't they take the _S-18_ down and creep along the bottom untilthey find the Southern Queen?" asked Tim.
"Commander Ford's afraid of the currents around the reef. He wants toknow something about the bottom before he takes the _S-18_ down."
The remainder of the afternoon was spent with the two small boatsdragging their grappling hooks along the bottom. At sundown the wearycrews returned to the submarine. There was no use to ask whether theyhad found any trace of the Southern Queen. The tired, disappointedfaces were enough.
"What about the bottom?" Tim asked Pat.
"It's going to be a tough proposition even if we find the old ship.Lots of rock down there and queer currents. There must be all kinds ofholes in the outer reef."
Commander Ford was silent, planning the activities for the next day,and everyone aboard the submarine, except the watch, was in theirblankets early.
The next morning at dawn the men of the _S-18_ were on deck, preparingfor another day of grappling for the wreckage of the Southern Queen.
"I wonder if Crazy John could have been mistaken?" Tim asked Pat.
"It's possible, but I don't believe Commander Ford would have fittedout an expensive expedition like this if he hadn't been pretty sure ofhis facts. We've got a lot of territory inside the reefs to explorebefore we give up hope."
"Or before Sladek and the _Iron Mate_ arrive," put in Tim, searchingthe sky for a possible trace of the seaplane from the tramp steamer.
There was a bright, burning sun and throughout the morning hours theboat crews toiled, dragging hooks on the uneven bottom. After a hastylunch, they returned to the gruelling task. Tim, confident that theseaplane could be made ready for flight in a minimum time, squatted onthe deck and watched the operations.
It was late afternoon when a joyful shout from Pat rang across thewater.
"We've snagged something!" he cried.
Commander Ford in the other boat hastened toward the spot and moregrapnels were dropped.
Fifteen minutes later the men waiting on the deck of the submarine knewthat the Southern Queen had been found. Commander Ford dropped a linewith a buoy and the two boats headed back for the _S-18_. Fatigue wasmiraculously wiped from the faces of the boatmen as they pulledalongside, and Commander Ford gave them the information they all sought.
"Diving operations will start in the morning," he said.
There was a joyous whoop from the crew of the _S-18_. This was whatthey had been watching for, a chance to get the treasure of theSouthern Queen.