“Same here!” echoed the young inventor.
Luck seemed to be with the gold-seekers after that, for as the submarine was sent ahead, no more of the long, entangling grass was encountered.
The search for the sunken Pandora was now begun in earnest, since they were positive that they were at the right spot.
No immediate sign of her was found. But Tom and his friends hardly expected to be as lucky as that. They were willing to make a search. For, as Tom had said, a current might have shifted the position of the wreck.
They followed the plan of moving about in ever-widening circles. Only in this way could they successfully cover the ground. It was the third day after the encounter with the devil fish that Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon were in the forward observation cabin. The eccentric man suddenly pointed to something visible from the starboard window.
“There’s a wreck, Tom!” he cried. “Maybe it’s the Pandora!”
Tom and the others hurried to Mr. Damon’s side and peered out into the sea, illuminated by the great searchlight.
“That isn’t the Pandora!” said the young inventor.
“But it’s a wreck, isn’t it?” asked Ned.
“Yes, it’s a sunken vessel, all right,” Tom assented. “But it’s a reminder of the Great War. Look! She has been blown up by a torpedo!”
CHAPTER XXII
STUDYING CURRENTS
There was no question about Tom’s statement. They had approached close to the side of a small, sunken and wrecked steamer, and in her side was torn a great hole. In the light from the submarine it could be seen that the plates bent inward, indicating that the explosion was from outside.
“What are you going to do, Tom?” asked Ned, as he saw his chum move the engine room telegraph signal to the stop position.
“Going to investigate,” was the answer. “We might as well take the time. We may learn something of value.”
“Do you think there is any treasure in her?” asked Mr. Damon.
“There might be,” answered Tom. “We’ll put on the diving suits and go outside.”
“I hope there aren’t any devil fish,” remarked Ned.
“Same here,” Tom agreed. “But I don’t believe we’ll meet with any. Will you take a chance, Ned?”
“I surely will! I’d like to find out what sort of ship that is—or rather, was, for there isn’t much left of her.”
He spoke truly, for indeed the torpedo had created fearful havoc. The full extent of it was not observed until Tom, Ned, Koku and two of the crew had put on diving suits and approached the hulk. She lay on her side on the sandy bottom, heeled over somewhat, and when the investigators had walked around her, as they were able to do, they saw a second, and even larger hole in the opposite side.
“Two submarines must have attacked her,” said Ned, speaking through his telephone to Tom.
“Either that, or else one sent a torpedo into her, dived, came up on the other side and sent another.”
“Well, let’s see if she has any treasure aboard,” Ned proposed. “Wouldn’t it be queer if we should discover two treasure ships?”
“More queer than likely,” Tom answered. “We’ve got to be careful going inside her.”
“Why?” asked Ned. “Do you think we’ll set off a hidden mine?”
“No, but part of the wreckage might be loosened if we climbed over it, and we might fall and be pinned down. I’ve read of divers being caught that way. We must be careful.”
“Do you suppose a German sub did this?” Ned asked.
“I think very likely,” Tom answered. “Maybe we can tell if we can discover the nationality of this craft.”
They made their way to a position just outside the gaping hole in the starboard side of the craft. Evidently; it was, or had been, a tramp steamer, and the torpedo hole on her starboard side was about amidships. She must have filled and sunk quickly with two such great holes torn in her.
Standing near the wound in the steel skin, Tom and his companions tried to see what was inside. Their portable torches did not give light enough to make out clearly the character of the cargo carried, and it was too risky to venture into the mass of wreckage that must be the result of the explosion of the torpedo.
“Let’s try the other side,” suggested Tom, and they moved around the stern of the craft. When they reached the place where the name was visible Tom raised his electric torch and, in the glow of it, they all read the painted inscription, Blakesly, New York.
“That’s the vessel that disappeared so mysteriously!” exclaimed Ned, speaking through his instrument. “I remember reading about her. She sailed from New York for Brest, but was never heard of. At last we have solved the mystery!”
“Yes,” agreed Tom, “but without much avail. We are too late to do any good.”
“Not one of her crew or passengers was ever heard of,” went on Ned. “It was surmised that a German sub attacked her, and that she was either sunk ‘without a trace’ or else her survivors were taken aboard the submarine and carried to Germany.”
“Perhaps we may learn something to that end,” said Tom, as they got around to the other side. The hole there was not quite so big, and as it seemed safe to enter Tom and Ned prepared to do so, the others remaining outside to give them aid in case of necessity.
It was comparatively easy to enter by this wound in the side of the Blakesly, and, proceeding cautiously, Tom and Ned made the attempt. They found they could not penetrate far, however, because of the mass of wreckage scattered about by the explosion. They could see through into the engine room, and there the machinery was in every stage of destruction, while below the boilers were disrupted.
“She must have gone down in a hurry,” remarked Tom.
“Yes, and with part of her crew,” added Ned, as he pointed to where a heap of white bones lay—grim reminders of the Great War. The engine room forces had been trapped and carried down to death.
“I wonder if, by any chance, she did carry gold,” suggested Ned.
“It wouldn’t be down here if she did,” asserted Tom. “And if she was a treasure ship, and the huns knew it, they wouldn’t leave any on board.”
“That’s just it,” went on his chum. “They may not have known it, and have ripped a couple of torpedoes at her without any warning. It would be just like them.”
“Granted,” assented the young inventor. “Well, we can take another look around outside. Maybe there’s a way of getting on deck, and so going below from there. I wouldn’t chance it from here.”
“Me, either,” Ned answered.
They looked around a little more, a further view showing how dangerous it would be to attempt to enter the shattered engine room, where a misstep or a sudden change of equilibrium might cause disaster.
“Nothing there,” Tom reported to Koku and the others waiting for him outside.
“Rope by up go him stern,” said Koku, motioning toward the after part of the wreck.
“What does he mean?” Tom asked one of his crew.
“Oh, he went walking around outside while you were inside, sir,” was the answer, “and he seems to have found a rope ladder or a chain, or something hanging from the stern.”
“Let’s go and see it,” proposed Tom. “I’ve been wondering if we could get on deck.”
“Are we going to spend much time here?” Ned wanted to know.
“Not much longer,” Tom replied. “Why?”
“Well, I was thinking we’d better keep on looking for the Pandora. I don’t want that fellow Hardley to get the bulge on us.”
“Oh,” laughed Tom, “he isn’t likely to. But we won’t take any chances. As soon as I see if we can learn anything that may be useful from this hulk, we’ll go back and start on our way again.”
The party of divers, led by Koku, who wanted to point out his discovery, walked slowly along on the bottom of the sea, around to the stern of the Blakesly.
“See!” said the giant through his telephone, and, as the instruments were interchanging, a
ll heard him.
Koku pointed to several ropes and chains that were dangling from the stern of the sunken craft. Evidently they had been used by those who sought to escape from the sinking ship after she had been torpedoed.
“Wait a minute!” Tom telephoned, as he saw Koku grasp a chain, evidently with the object of hoisting himself up on deck by the simple method of going up hand over hand. He could easily do this by adjusting the air pressure inside his diving suit to make himself more buoyant.
“Koku go up!” said the giant.
“Better make sure that chain will hold you,” cautioned Tom. The giant proved it by several powerful tugs, and then began to raise himself from the sandy bed of the ocean.
“Well, if it will hold him it will hold us,” asserted Tom. “Ned, we’ll go up. You two stay here,” he said to the members of his crew. “We can’t take any chances of all getting in the same accident if there should be one.”
A little later Tom, Ned, and Koku stood on the deck of the sunken craft. Much of what she had carried had been swept off, either in the explosions or by reason of currents generated by storms since the fatality. But what seemed to be the cabin of the captain, or of some of the officers, was in plain view and easy of access from this level.
“Let’s take a look!” said Tom.
Ned followed him to the door. It had been torn off, and inside was a table made fast to the floor. From the appearance of the room it was evidently the compartment where the charts were kept, and where the captain or his officers worked out the reckoning. But it was tenantless now, and if any maps or papers had been out they were dissolved in sea water some time since.
“Let’s see if we can find the log book,” proposed Ned.
“Good idea,” assented Tom.
Using the iron bars they carried, they forced open some of the lockers, but aside from pulp, which might have been charts or almost anything in the way of documents, nothing was come upon that would tell anything.
“Unless the log book was kept in a water-tight case the ink would all run, once it was wet,” Tom said, when they were about ready to give up their search.
“I suppose so,” agreed Ned. “But I would like to know whether she carried treasure.”
However, it was impossible to discover this, and dangerous to look too far into the interior. So Tom and his party were forced to leave without discovering the secret of the Blakesly, if she possessed one.
Later, however, when they had returned home, Tom and Ned made a report of what they had seen, and so cleared up the fate of the vessel. They learned that she carried no treasure, and they were glad they had not risked their lives looking for it. What had happened to her crew was never learned.
They returned to the submarine and told what they had viewed. And then, with a last look at the wreck, they passed on in their search for the Pandora.
Several fruitless days followed, and though a careful search was made in the vicinity of the true location given by Mr. Hardley, nothing was discovered.
“How long will you keep at it before you give up?” asked Ned one evening, as they went aloft to replenish the air tanks and charge the batteries.
“Oh, another week, anyhow. I have a new theory, Ned.”
“What’s that?”
“Ocean currents. I believe there are powerful currents in these waters, and that they may have shifted the position of the Pandora considerably. I’m going to study the currents.”
“Good idea!” cried his chum.
And the next day they began observations which were destined to have surprising results.
CHAPTER XXIII
AN UNDERSEA COLLISION
Under the warm, tropical sun the submarine floated idly on the surface of the calm sea. She had risen from the depths, her hatches had been opened, and now the crew, the owner, and his guests were breathing free air. The men were taking advantage of the period above water to wash out some of their garments, hanging them on improvised lines stretched along the deck. For Tom Swift had said he would remain above the surface all day.
Some slight repairs were necessary to the electric motors, and they could be made only when the craft was on the open sea. This, too, would afford a chance to recharge the batteries and repair one of them.
For the time being the search under the sea for the treasure ship Pandora had been abandoned. But it was not given up entirely. As Tom had announced to Ned, a new theory would be worked out. So far, cruising about in the place where the fillibuster ship was supposed to have gone down had resulted in nothing.
Mr. Damon, who had been below, shaving, came up on deck to see Tom and Ned tossing into the water large pieces of cork taken from spare life preservers. Tom tossed his in from one side of the deck, and Ned from the other. Then, as the eccentric man listened, he heard Tom say:
“I think mine is going to beat yours, Ned!”
“Then you’ve got another guess coming,” declared the young financial man. “Mine’s going twice as fast as yours is now, though yours did start off better.”
“Bless my beefsteak!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, “what’s this, Tom Swift? I thought we came on a treasure-hunting expedition, and here I find you and Ned playing some childish game! I hope you aren’t laying any wagers on it!” Mr. Damon did not approve of gambling in any form.
“No, we aren’t doing that,” laughed Tom, as he dropped another bit of cork into the ocean.
“We are trying to arrive at some valuable scientific facts, Mr. Damon.”
“Scientific facts—that childish play?”
“It isn’t play,” said Tom, turning to remark to Ned: “I think we’ve settled it. The current has a decided twist to the north.”
“Yes,” agreed his chum. “You were right, Tom.”
“If you don’t mind explaining,” began Mr. Damon, “I should like to know—”
“We’re trying to determine the drift of the ocean currents in this locality,” Tom said.
“So we’ll know better where to look for the Pandora,” added Ned.
“Oh, so you haven’t given up the hunt, then?” asked the eccentric man.
“By no means!” exclaimed Tom. “It’s this way, Mr. Damon. We went down at as nearly the exact spot where the treasure-ship was sunk as we could determine by means of calculations. She wasn’t there, nor could we find her by going around in circles. Then it occurred to me, and to some of the others also, including Ned, that the ocean currents might have shifted the position of the craft after she had sunk. There are powerful currents in the ocean, as you know, the Gulf Stream being one and the Japan Current another. Now there may be smaller ones in these waters that would produce a local effect.
“So Ned and I have been dropping bits of cork of different shapes into the water and watching which way they drifted. Our conclusion is that the currents here have a decided set toward the north.”
“And what does that indicate?” asked Mr. Damon.
“That we should have begun our search some distance north of the point where we actually did begin,” answered Tom.
“How far north?” the eccentric man wanted to know.
“That’s just what we have yet to ascertain,” the young inventor replied. “So far our conclusions have been arrived at merely from surface data. Now we’ve got to go below.”
“And play with bits of cork there?” asked Mr. Damon.
“No, we’ll have to use something heavier than cork,” Tom said. “We’ll probably use weights, and see how far they move along the bottom in a given time. But we have established one thing, and I begin to have hopes now that we may locate the Pandora.”
The remainder of the day was spent in various ways aboard the submarine, which continued to float idly on the waves.
It was toward evening, when the red, setting sun gave promise of a fair day on the morrow that the submarine’s deck lookout approached Tom, and, waiting until he had the attention of the young inventor, reported:
“There is a smudge of smoke dead astern
, sir.”
“Is there?” exclaimed Tom. “Let me have the glasses.”
He took them from the lookout and made a long and careful study of the slight, black smudge which was low down on the horizon.
“A steamer,” decided Tom, “and coming on fast. We’ll go below!” he added. “Please make ready,” he said to the officer in charge.
“What’s up, Tom?” asked Ned, as his chum gathered up the papers on which he had been figuring on an improvised table set under an awning on deck.
“Some craft is coming, and I’d just as soon she wouldn’t sight us,” was the answer.
“You mean she might interfere with our search for the treasure-ship?”
“Not exactly. But she might want to start a search on her own account, and there’s no use of giving our presence away, or letting them guess at what might be right conclusions as to the location of the Pandora.”
“But, Tom, no one knows of the wreck! At least, no one is supposed to but our party and—”
“Hardley. Exactly!” exclaimed Tom, as he saw his chum about to utter the name.
“And you think he is coming?”
“I shouldn’t be a bit surprised. Anyhow, it’s just as easy for us to submerge and let them do their own guessing. I was going down soon, anyhow, and another hour won’t make any difference. Here, take a look, if you like.”
Ned peered through the glasses, but his eyes not being trained in sea interpretation, as were Tom’s, he could make out nothing but a black smudge, now larger and darker.
“It might be a cloud for all I can tell,” he said, as he handed the binoculars back to Tom.
“Well, it’s a steamer all right, and she’s under forced draft, too, if I’m any judge. We’ll go below before she sights us.”
“Perhaps she has already,” suggested Ned, as the crew began clearing the submarine’s deck.
“No, we lie too low in the water for that. Well, now we can start our underwater observations of current trends.”
It did not take long, once she started, for the M. N. 1 to go down. Just as the sun sank below the horizon, and while the smudge of smoke was becoming more distinct, the waves closed over the steel deck of the submarine. Half an hour later she was nearly a quarter of a mile below the surface, resting on the bottom of the sea again.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 296
