CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Battle with the _Iron Mate_
Plans for the recovery of the treasure of the Southern Queen weretalked over fully at mess that night.
"The wreck is in about 185 feet of water," said Charlie Gill. "That'snot a bad depth in itself but the currents down there are tough. Theymight sweep a diver into a hole in the hull and he'd never get out."
"Then you think we'd better take the _S-18_ right down beside the oldship so you can work out of our own hull?" asked Commander Ford.
"From the standpoint of the diver, that's going to be the safest way,"said Charlie, "and it will be a whole lot faster. Once we get our handson the gold we'll be able to transfer it directly aboard the _S-18_"
Commander Ford nodded thoughtfully.
"You're right. The currents you speak of can cause trouble even for asubmarine the size of the _S-18_, but I guess that's the only solution.We'll make our first dive in the morning."
Turning to Tim, he added: "You'd better get your seaplane off the decktonight. Make it fast to the beach. I don't want to lose any time whendaylight comes."
Members of the crew aided Tim in getting the Sea King off the deck andinto the water. It was night before the task was completed, and hetaxied the trim little craft up to the beach under the guiding rays ofa searchlight on the conning tower. While Tim was making the plane fastfor the night, Pat rowed in from the _S-18_ to take him back.
The Isle of the Singing Trees was living up to its name that night. Thetangled mat of underbrush came down close to the water's edge and fromit came a mournful melody. Now and then a vagrant breeze, skippingthrough the tree tops, added a higher note and Tim shivered at theloneliness and the desolation. The lights of the _S-18_, a bare 200yards from the shore, looked far away. He was glad when Pat's boatgrated on the rocky beach.
Pat also felt the weird atmosphere of the island.
"It isn't healthy here," he said. "Let's get back to the _S-18_."
Tim jumped into the boat and they pulled lustily toward the safety andcomfort of the submarine.
Men slept restlessly on the _S-18_ that night. Tomorrow they were goingto the bottom of the bay. If fortune favored them, they would come backto the surface with a wealth of gold.
Tim was as restless as any of them, turning and tumbling around in hisnarrow bunk. An hour before dawn he slipped out of his blankets,dressed, and went up on deck. Commander Ford was in the conning towerand Tim wondered whether he had slept any during the night.
"I'm a little anxious about the Sea King," said the flying reporter."I'd like to turn the searchlight on the beach."
"Not right now," said the commander softly. "There are lights of somekind over to our left."
Tim turned sharply. Low in the water, and far out, he caught the faintglow of lights.
"The _Iron Mate_?" he asked breathlessly.
"Perhaps. We'll have to wait until dawn to know the truth."
"It may be some passing steamer."
"These are dangerous waters. Regular traffic keeps away from thissection of the coast."
Tim watched the lights intently. They were barely moving, but it seemedas though they were coming nearer.
There was a faint glow in the east when Commander Ford spoke again.
"Go below and rout out the crew. Tell Joe Gartner I want arms issued toevery man. As soon as that is done I want him up here for finalinstructions."
Tim shot down the ladder into the control room, landing with a bangthat resounded through the interior. He raced back to the crew'squarters. Men, only half awake, tumbled from their bunks.
"Everyone out!" cried Tim. "Joe, you're to issue arms at once. ThenCommander Ford wants to see you on deck."
"Glory be," croaked Joe. "It must be the _Iron Mate_. Maybe I'll get achance to unlimber my gun after all."
They tumbled into their clothes and went forward where Joe issuedammunition belts and revolvers. A stack of rifles was placed in aspecial rack in the control room with a box of ammunition beside them.The _S-18_ was getting ready for trouble.
On deck Joe Gartner tore the tarpaulin off the four inch gun. From thedepths of the _S-18_ a half dozen shells were brought on deck and thegun was trained on the cluster of lights.
The sky lightened and a few minutes later the tense group on the deckof the _S-18_ made out the outlines of the ship which was beyond thereefs. It was the _Iron Mate_, rolling gently in the swell.
Through field glasses they could see men clustered along the rail ofthe tramp steamer and Tim thought he could see Sladek on the bridge.The first move was up to the _Iron Mate_ and it was not long in coming.From the far side of the steamer came the roar of an airplane engineand the seaplane took wing, its colors flashing in the bright rays ofthe sun.
"Better get ashore at once and have your own plane ready to take off,"Commander Ford advised Tim. "Take Pat with you and be sure that youhave a light machine gun."
Pat got the gun and plenty of ammunition from Joe Gartner and theytumbled into one of the small boats and started for shore.
Out to sea the other plane was climbing rapidly, circling over the_Iron Mate_. It was up 2,000 feet by the time Tim and Pat reached theSea King and had torn off the motor coverings and loosened the moorings.
Tim piled into the after cockpit and snapped on the starter. The motorawoke with a roar and he warmed it up thoroughly, keeping an eye on theplane above. There was little wind and he could take off in a straightdash across the water.
Pat, the light machine gun in his arms, climbed into the forwardcockpit. There were parachutes for both pilot and passenger and Timinstructed his companion in the operation of the chute.
"If we go aloft I'll get even with you for some of the unhappy hoursI've spent in that tin fish," chuckled Tim.
Pat, a little white around the lips at the thought of his first tripaloft, grinned gamely.
"I can take it," he said.
The plane from the _Iron Mate_ was darting toward the Isle of theSinging Trees. The ship was coming down now in a terrific power dive.Tim estimated the speed at nearly 150 miles an hour. The air was filledwith the roar of the motor.
Then the oncoming plane levelled off and flashed over the _S-18_.Something black hurtled over the side.
Tim tried to shout, but his throat closed and he could only gasp.Automatically he leaped into action, his hand jamming the throttle onfull. The Sea King scuttled across the water, angling away from the_S-18_ while down from the sky plummeted the black object. It struckthe water a good hundred yards away from the _S-18_ and a fountain ofwater arose in the air. The noise of the bomb could be heard even abovethe roar of the Sea King's powerful motor.
Tim lifted the finely trimmed craft into the air and set out in pursuitof the bomber. Below them on deck of the _S-18_ Gunner Joe was traininghis sights on the _Iron Mate_. Tim, looking down, saw a puff of smokeand a fountain of water leap into the air beyond the _Iron Mate_. Joehad overshot his target.
But there was no time to watch the Iron Mate now. Tim concentrated onthe task of bringing down the other plane. Ahead of him, Pat crouchedin the cockpit, the machine gun ready.
The seaplane was making a desperate attempt to get under the shelter ofthe _Iron Mate_ but Tim drove on relentlessly on the tail of the othership. There was no chance for the pilot to land and taxi back to thesteamer.
The Sea King was fast and easy to handle. In less than two minutes Timhad overhauled the bombing plane and Pat, sighting with a steady hand,pulled gently on the trigger of the light machine gun. It chattered andjumped, but he got his aim again and poured a stream of bullets at thetarget ahead.
Tim, watching intently and matching every move of the fleeing pilot,saw the bullets ripping into the wings. Then Pat got the range on thefuselage and the line of bullets crept nearer and nearer the cockpit.
Sensing that death was near, the pilot tried to loop and get onto thetail of Tim's plane, but the flying reporter guessed the maneuver
almost before it started and he placed Pat in a position to pour astream of bullets into the motor of the other plane.
Suddenly there was only the sound of their own motor. The otherseaplane was falling away with its prop turning idly. Pat, thoroughlyangered at the attempt to sink the _S-18_ with a bomb, trained his gunon the other pilot but Tim pulled the nose of the Sea King up andspoiled his aim.
"He's all through," he shouted. "They'll never be able to repair thatmotor."
Spread out below them was a strange panorama. Against the greenbackground of the Isle of the Singing Trees the _S-18_ was throwingshell after shell at the _Iron Mate_, and the tramp steamer wasresponding. One good, solid shot would sink the _S-18_, while the _IronMate_ could stand a lot of shelling without going down.
Tim noticed that the _S-18_ was moving slowly back and forth behind thereef and that the submarine was ready to submerge at a moment's notice.Only Gunner Joe and the men he had selected to help him load the gunwere on deck.
"Joe's using a lot of ammunition," cried Pat.
"He'd better get a direct aim soon or they'll get us after all."
A white line of bubbles streaked the water.
"Joe's fired his torpedo!" cried Pat.
A lookout on the _Iron Mate_ saw the torpedo and the old tramp swungits stern into the clear just in time. The torpedo streaked on out tosea.
Tim's attention shifted back to the pilot of the crippled seaplane. Itwas landing at least a mile away from the _Iron Mate_ and he admiredthe cool nerve of the other pilot, who brought his craft down to a safelanding. With motor dead, the flyer would have to wait for a boat fromthe _Iron Mate_ to pick him up.
Tim sent the Sea King into a dive while Pat shouted questions at him,landed and taxied alongside the disabled plane.
Pat covered the other flyer with his machine gun. Tim recognized thepilot as the man who had flown the amphibian for Sladek on the trip toCedar river valley.
Fierce anger glowed in the eyes of the other pilot, but he remainedsilent as Tim scrambled onto the right pontoon and made his way towardthe rear cockpit.
"Don't try any funny business," Tim warned. "My partner's got an itchytrigger finger."
"You'll never get away with this," snarled the other.
"Don't let that trouble you," retorted Tim. "You'd better worry howyou're going to get away from here. You know if we decided to put a fewholes in your pontoons it would be a long swim to the _Iron Mate_ andthe sharks might be hungry."
"You wouldn't dare do that."
"You tried to sink the _S-18_," snapped Tim. "Now get out of thatcockpit and crawl down on the other pontoon."
"What are you going to do?"
"Shut up and get down on the pontoon like he told you," roared Pat,waving his gun menacingly.
The pilot of the disabled plane obeyed the command and Tim scrambledinto the cockpit. In the bottom was what he had hoped for, half a dozensmall, high-explosive bombs.
In less than five minutes he transferred the deadly cargo to his ownplane.
"Thanks a lot for the pineapples," he yelled at the disgruntled flyerclinging to the pontoon. "I guess we won't sink your plane after all."
"Give me those surprise parties," said Pat.
"You can't gauge air speed," replied Tim. "I can fly and handle thebombing at the same time. We'll go low and you may be able to rake thedeck of the _Iron Mate_ with your gun."
Pat grinned and gave voice to a wild, Irish battle cry as the Sea Kingleaped into the air.
There was a gun both fore and aft on the _Iron Mate_, and both of themwere firing steadily at the _S-18_ when the Sea King flashed over thefirst time.
Pat, leaning over the edge of the cockpit, let a blistering blast offire loose and Tim dropped one of the bombs. It struck a scant 25 yardsbeyond the _Iron Mate_, sending a great spray of water into the air.
Banking the Sea King sharply, they swept back toward the tramp steamer.Men were running excitedly about the deck for the attack from the airhad taken them by surprise. Again Pat raked the deck with fire whileTim, working rapidly, dropped two bombs overboard.
The first one missed, falling short, but the second struck only a fewfeet from the gun on the fore deck. There was a shattering blast offlame and smoke, the scream of rent steel, and the cries of frightenedmen.
Relentlessly the Sea King bore down again. This time Tim aimed at theafter deck. There were only three bombs left. He swooped low, droppingonly one of the missiles, but he had the range and scored a direct hit.In less than a minute both guns had been put out of commission and theship badly damaged.
"We'll plant another 'egg' midships and then call it a day," yelled Tim.
Once more the Sea King, struts and wires screaming vengeance, sweptdown. Again Tim scored a hit, the blast from the third bomb levelingthe stubby masts and the funnel. The deck of the ship was strewn withwreckage and the _Iron Mate_ was definitely out of commission as far asany more fighting was concerned.
Tim landed the Sea King inside the barrier of reefs and taxiedalongside the _S-18_.
"Splendid work," shouted Commander Ford, and the others in the crewwere loud in their praise.
Tim and Pat made the Sea King fast again at its moorings and rowed backto the submarine. In the distance the _Iron Mate_ was painfully limpingaway from the scene.