Motor Matt's Close Call; or, The Snare of Don Carlos

by Stanley R. Matthews

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE SNARE TIGHTENS.

  The yawl was on the windward side of the _Grampus_. Matt, calling downdirections to Gaines, had the submarine brought about so that the yawllay on the lee side. This, to some extent, gave smoother water for theunloading of the small boat's passengers.

  Speake, holding to one of the wire guys that supported the periscopetube, descended the rounded deck until up to his knees in water.Stretching out his hand he caught the fist of the big fellow in thesou'wester. The latter, standing on the gunwale of the yawl, gave aleap and landed sprawling on the submarine's deck.

  A wave rolled over him, but he managed to clutch the guy rope and hangon. The next moment he rolled over close to the conning tower and laythere, face down, apparently almost spent.

  Clackett, imitating Speake's maneuvre, was bringing another of the menaboard. One by one the yawl was unloaded, the boy being the last tocome.

  Matt, climbing out of the conning tower, ordered the rescued men below.Two of them had vanished through the hatch when Matt, bending over thebig fellow by the base of the conning tower, asked him who he and hiscomrades were, and how they happened to be adrift in a small boat.

  "Had er shipwreck," answered the man hoarsely.

  "Can't you get up?" asked Matt. "We'll have to get you below, somehow."

  "Mebby I kin make it if yer put yer arms under mine an' give me a lift."

  Bracing himself on the deck, Matt reached downward and pushed his handsunder the man's armpits. At the same moment, the big fellow developed asurprising amount of strength. Both his arms went upward, as he whirledover on his back, and closed about Matt's waist like the two jaws of avise.

  "Now, then, nail 'em, you swabs!" he roared. "I got the boss o' thegang, an' you git the rest!"

  Not until that moment did Motor Matt suspect treachery. The revelationcame to him like a lightning flash.

  A wild uproar echoed from below, and forward and aft Speake andClackett were struggling with those they had helped aboard.

  The rounded deck of the _Grampus_, slippery with water and delugedagain and again by the waves, was a fearsome place for such a struggle.How the combatants ever kept themselves out of the sea was a mystery.

  Matt fought as best he could. He recognized the big fellow as AbnerFingal, and knew, as well as though he had been told, that Don RamonOrtega had engineered a cunning plot for the capture of the submarine.

  "What are you trying to do, Fingal?" Matt demanded, as the scoundrelheld him helpless in his iron-like grip.

  "Trying to even up fer some o' the things you done a spell ago!" roaredFingal. "Stop yer squirmin', or----"

  With a fierce effort, Matt succeeded in breaking free. He rose to hisknees, only to meet the flint-like fist of Fingal. The terrific blowhurled him backward, and he slid along the sloping deck against the guyrope that supported the small flagstaff, close to the bow.

  Fingal jumped after him, caught him by the collar and pulled him backbefore he could slip from the support of the rope and drop into thesea. The jerk Fingal gave him hurled Matt headfirst against the ironsocket in which the base of the staff was secured to the deck. It wasa savage blow, and Matt straightened out limply and a wave of darknessrolled over him.

  When Matt opened his eyes again, he was in the same room where he andDick had been confined by Gaines, Speake and Clackett. But there wasanother prisoner now, for Speake was with Matt and Dick.

  Dick, on a stool beside the cot, was rubbing Matt's temples. Acrossfrom them, on the other cot, Speake was sitting, nursing a bruise onthe side of his face.

  "Hard luck, old ship!" muttered Dick ominously. "How are you feeling?"

  "None too good," answered Matt.

  "You got a crack fore and aft. It's a wonder one of 'em didn't bash inyour skull."

  "It wasn't the blows I received that's hurting me now, Dick," Matt wenton, "but the fact that we were trapped when we thought we were helpinga boat load of shipwrecked sailors. Have they captured the boat?"

  "Well, I should say! That outfit of pirates swarmed all over her. I wasdown in the engine room, you know, and, while I knew by the racket thatsomething was happening that wasn't down on the bills, yet I didn'tdare leave the motor. After a while the racket died out a little and Icalled up through the speaking tube to learn what was going on. Someone laughed; then, the next I knew, Fingal came driving Gaines along. Aswab trailed after Fingal, and both of 'em had guns. I was ordered upto the periscope room, and Gaines was sent to the motor, the other chapstaying with him and keeping the gun aimed at him all the time. Oh, Iguess you fellows have got enough of helping the don, haven't you?" andDick turned to Speake.

  "We was a pack of fools," answered Speake.

  "What happened to you, Speake?" inquired Matt.

  "The same as happened to all the rest," was the growling response."That was a husky lot o' shipwrecked mariners we picked up! They didn'tseem hardly able to crawl aboard, but they woke up considerable assoon as they got their feet on the _Grampus'_ deck. I had it which an't'other with a chap for'ard o' the connin' tower, and I held my ownuntil Clackett was downed and the man that was goin' for him came atme. Then, o' course, I had to give up. Clackett an' me was sent belowat the pistol's p'int. Clackett's in the tank room, and Gaines is inthe motor room, both with a couple of the thieves holdin' guns on theman' makin' 'em run the boat. The don's steerin', and we're hikin' righton toward Port Livingston. Oh, what a howlin' mess!"

  Matt sat up and bowed his head in his hands for a moment. His brainached, and he was trying to think and get at the full extent of thedisaster.

  "It was all a put-up job, matey," remarked Dick.

  "That's easy to guess, Dick," returned Matt, lifting his head. "Theboat I saw hull down, off on the port side of us, must have beenFingal's schooner, the _North Star_. The schooner was expecting the donalong with the _Grampus_, and was laying to get that crew of rascalsaboard of us. Dropping the yawl in the water, the schooner left theboat behind. Oh, I see it all now. But I can't understand this DonRamon Ortega. This business will open the eyes of a good many people inBelize."

  "But what's the upshot of it all? What's the don tryin' to do?"

  This from Speake, as he continued to nurse his injury.

  "I can smoke Fingal's roll, all right enough," said Dick. "He's playingeven with us for what we did on the Izaral River, a few days ago."

  "He has captured the _Grampus_," added Matt, "and probably intends toturn her over to General Pitou."

  "An' there wasn't anythin' in that story of the don's?" asked Speake."It was a pretty good story, an' sounded to me like it might bestraight goods."

  "The don is helping Fingal," returned Matt, "and the submarine is nowin the hands of the five we 'rescued' from the yawl, and the don. Thereare six of our enemies and only five of us. Naturally, we don't count,being locked up in this steel room; and Gaines and Clackett can't countfor much, either, with revolvers staring them in the face whichever waythey turn. This is a hard row of stumps for us, pards!"

  "An' all owin' to Clackett, an' Gaines, an' me!" mourned Speake.

  "There's nothing to be gained thinking over that part of it, Speake,"said Matt. "We've got to look this thing squarely in the face and dowhat we can to recapture the submarine."

  "Nothin' we can do!" grunted Speake. "That outfit of roughs have gotthe whip hand of us, and they're going to keep it. They was wise tokeep Gaines an' Clackett to attend to the runnin' of the machinery, an'I guess the don can do the steerin', easy enough."

  "I wonder if there was any truth at all in the don's story?" venturedMatt.

  "In what part of it, matey?" queried Dick.

  "Why, about the revolutionists capturing Port Livingston, and the fortacross the river."

  "If part o' his yarn's crooked," grumbled Speake, "then I'll gamble thewhole of it's crooked. Why, Matt? What difference does that make?"

  "Well, if Port Livingston is in the hands of the revolutionists, thenwe'll be taken there, and not up the Iz
aral."

  "Strike me lucky!" exclaimed Dick, as a sudden thought came to him."Don Ramon Ortega is in mighty poor business, mates, if he's helpingthese revolutionists. What a two-faced swab he is! When he talked withus, last evening, he was all against the rebels; now he's for them.What will the Spanish government say to that sort of work?"

  "There's something about Don Ramon that's mighty puzzling," said Matt."He's a scheming scoundrel, though, and it's our business to recapturethe _Grampus_--if we can."

  "How'll we go to work, Matt?" asked Speake gloomily. "Every man inFingal's party is armed. What could five of us do ag'inst six armedmen, providin' we was able to bunch together and face 'em?"

  At this point, the door leading into the periscope room opened and thedon and Fingal stepped through. Matt, Dick and Speake all started upon the entrance of the two men, but the latter carried revolvers, andanother armed man stood in the doorway behind them.

  "Don't get reckless, you fellows!" warned Fingal. "We ain'tparticularly anxious to hurt ye, but there's no tellin' what'll happenif you try to climb over us an' git through that door." The burlyruffian turned toward his companion. "Fire away, don," he added, "andtell 'em what you got on your mind."