CHAPTER XXXII.
A SUBMARINE ENCOUNTER.
"THERE is one thing I didn't mention to the Admiral," remarkedWhittinghame on his way back to the airship. "It has been worrying mesomewhat. The 'Meteor's' supply of ultra-hydrogen is running low."
"I thought so too, sir," said Dacres. "We've had quite a series ofaccidents."
"And we cannot risk another mishap with equanimity," addedWhittinghame. "Even under the best conditions we must be back inEngland before the next fortnight; otherwise we must remain hereuntil we get a fresh supply from home. If, in the event of--Hulloa!The 'Meteor' seems to be lower in the water than when we left her."
Whittinghame's surmise was quite correct. The airship was floatingwith a pronounced list to starboard and slightly down by the stern.
"Anything wrong?" he demanded briskly as he ascended the swayingladder and gained the interior of the "Meteor."
"Yes, sir," answered Setchell. "There's a leak in No. 5 compartment.We have located it, and exhausted the ultra-hydrogen from the threesub-divisions affected."
"It's lucky that the gas wasn't wasted," remarked the Captain. "Theballonette sub-divisions are flooded, I presume?"
"Yes, sir, a fairly large hole, I should think. We tried compressedair, but could not expel the water."
"Shall we lift her and ascertain the extent of the damage?" asked thesub.
Whittinghame shook his head.
"It's my belief that some rascally agent of Durango has been atwork," he said. "If we rise we shall create suspicion in his mind,and frighten him away. Now we know we can take steps to protectourselves accordingly. I'll ask the flagship to lend us a couple ofdivers. Fortunately the damage is easily repaired provided we savethe ultra-hydrogen."
"I'll go down, sir," volunteered Dacres, "and Callaghan willaccompany me."
"I'll be delighted to accept your offer," said Whittinghamegratefully. "I'd go myself only I've had no experience in submarinework of any description. Mr. Setchell, will you please signal the'Repulse' and ask the loan of two Restronguet diving-suits?"
Callaghan expressed his willingness to accompany the sub. TheIrishman had been a first-class seaman-diver in the Royal Navy, and,although unaccustomed to the modern diving-dress, could be reliedupon to do his work thoroughly.
Without delay a motor pinnace from the flagship came alongside,bringing the required apparatus. The Restronguet diving-dress, theinvention of the late owner of the famous submarine, "Aphrodite," hadbeen generally adopted by the Royal Navy.
The dress was entirely self-contained, the chemically-chargedair-supply being carried in metal cylinders attached to the diver,while airtubes and life-lines were no longer required.
The sub was well acquainted with the Restronguet diving-dress, and itrequired only a brief explanation to acquaint Callaghan with itssimple peculiarities.
"Another sub-division flooded, sir," announced Setchell.
"The rascal, or rascals, must be still at work, by Jove!" ejaculatedWhittinghame. "Have your knives ready in case there's anyresistance."
"We have something better than that, sir," said Dacres, holding up aninstrument resembling a tuning-fork. "These are issued with thediving-suits in case the divers are attacked by sharks or humanbeings."
"What is it?" asked Whittinghame curiously.
"Be careful, sir," cautioned the sub as his chief stretched out hishand to take hold of the weapon. "It is electrically charged, andwill temporarily paralyse any living thing it touches with these twobarbs. My friend Commander Hythe had a dose of it once. He said hewill never forget it. It simply knocked all the stuffing out of him."
"A good substitute for the 'cat,' then," commented Whittinghame."Now, all ready?"
The metal headpieces were placed over the wearer's heads and clampedon to the collar-plates. The two men, deprived of the outside air,were now dependent solely upon the supply contained in the portablereservoirs.
Dacres led the way. Shuffling awkwardly to the entry port he made hisway slowly down the ladder till the water reached to his shoulders.Then releasing his hold he sank gently to the bed of the ZandovarHarbour.
Fortunately there were no tidal currents. The bottom was composed offine gravel and sand, and practically destitute of marine growth. Thedepth being less than thirty feet, the brilliant sunshine penetratedthe clear water with very little loss of intensity.
The sub waited till the Irishman joined him, then pointedsignificantly towards the after end of the floating airship, whoserounded hull could be traced through almost its entire length.
Callaghan raised his hand to signify assent, and slowly the twodivers made their way aft.
Suddenly Dacres came to a dead stop. His quick eye detected a foreignmovement. In the deep shadow cast by the lower horizontal plane a manin a diving-dress was at work. An air-tube and life-line showed thatthe villainous diver was equipped with an old-fashioned apparatus,but the question was, how far was he working from his air-supply? Washe alone?
Cautiously Dacres and his companion approached, but before they couldget within striking-distance the bubble caused by the escaping airfrom the valves in the helmets gave the alarm. The fellow, dropping alarge drill with which he had been studiously employed, slid off theflange on which he had been seated and gained the bed of the harbour.
Evidently his chief aim was flight, for he made his way off as fastas he could, his life-line and airtube trailing in an ever-increasingbight upon the sand. His cumbersome diving-dress so impeded hisefforts that he was no match for his pursuers. Once he turned, andseeing that flight was impossible, he drew a huge knife with his lefthand, while in his right he grasped a formidable-looking axe.
All prospect of taking the marauder by surprise being at an end,Dacres realized that both he and his companion were at adisadvantage. The only vulnerable portions of their antagonist towhich the electric fork could be applied were his bare hands. To getin a knock-out blow would entail a great risk on the part of theattackers, for the fellow evidently meant to make good use of hisweapons.
The sub did not fear the axe so much as he did the knife. Owing tothe density of the water the force and velocity of the blow of theformer would be considerably diminished, but a thrust of a sharpsteel knife, meeting with very little resistance, was not to beregarded lightly.
Dacres stopped, and grasping the other's life-line cut it with hisknife. He could, of course, have easily settled the submarineencounter by severing the rascal's airtube, but this he was loth todo. On the other hand how could the fellow be secured? If hesurrendered, he could not be taken ashore, especially if there were,as was quite likely, a crowd of accomplices. The only solution,according to the sub's idea, was to compel the man to surrender, takehim to the surface, and there disconnect his airtube.
Again the sub bent down, this time laying hold of the flexiblearmoured hose. He raised his knife threateningly, and indicated thathis antagonist should either surrender or be deprived of his supplyof air.
The fellow's reply was more than Dacres had bargained for. Either hemistook the invitation to give in, or else he meant to die gamely.Raising his axe he floundered towards the place where the sub stoodgrasping the airtube.
Dacres dropped the pipe like a piece of red-hot coal, and promptlyretreated. Brave as he was he did not like the look of that long,keen knife glistening in the pale green light.
As the stranger advanced Callaghan made his way behind him, andpoising his electric fork awaited an opportunity to seize the fellowby the arm and prick him on the back of his hand.
Again the mysterious diver halted and, turning alternately to hisright and left, contemplated the two points of attack. By this timethe sandy bed of the sea had been considerably disturbed, and thewater was rapidly becoming mingled with a muddy deposit that greatlycurtailed the range of vision.
It was now a complete deadlock. Neither of the unknown's antagonistscould bring themselves to start the attack at close quarters, whilethe stranger would not surrender.
Awaitin
g his opportunity the Irishman stealthily gained possession ofthe airtube, and, grasping it in his powerful hands, attempted tocurtail the supply of air. The attempt was a failure, for he wasquite unable to compress the stout wire coil running around therubber hose. He fancied he could see a grim smile of contempt uponthe features of his foe. Suddenly Callaghan changed his tactics.Still holding on to the airtube he began to retreat towards the"Meteor." The unknown diver had, perforce, to follow, and since hisspeed was less than that of the men equipped with the Restronguetapparatus, he could not hope to overtake the Irishman. Dacres saw thelatter's plan, and he, too, made for the side of thepartially-submerged airship.
It seemed as if nothing could prevent the stranger from beingignominiously hauled to the surface alongside the "Meteor's" wireladder, until he caught sight of one arm and a fluke of an old anchorthat was almost buried in the sand. Round the projecting ironwork hetook a turn with the flexible pipe, and the united efforts of his twofoes were unable to make him budge another step.
The only solution as far as Dacres could suggest was to return to thesurface and get hold of a length of rope wire. By this means theunknown diver could be capsized, made a prisoner and be taken to theairship. The only objection was that some time must necessarilyelapse before the wire could be obtained, and in the interval thestranger would make good his escape.
While he was pondering over the problem Dacres saw a huge objectheading straight towards him with tremendous speed. The next instanthis antagonist was thrown forward, his legs working convulsively inspite of the leaden weights on his boots, while his weapons droppedfrom his outstretched arms. Then came a terrific blast as the airunder considerable pressure burst from the man's diving-dress, whileall around the water was tinged with blood. An enormous swordfish,its bulk intensified by the magnifying effect of the water, hadcharged the unfortunate diver from behind and had impaled him on thelong, sharp, horny spike that projected from its head.
Shaking the lifeless body like a terrier does a rat the swordfishstrove to disengage its formidable weapon. Dacres knew that either heor his comrade would be the next object of attack, since theferocious swordfish is never satisfied with one victim. Discretionurged him to make a speedy retreat while there was still anopportunity, but his sense of devotion to his companion soon put thatidea out of his head.
Holding his electric fork well in front of him, the sub steeled hisnerves and approached his latest foe, which was still striving towithdraw its "sword" from its victim's body.
But Dacres was forestalled. Callaghan, being more in the wake of thefiercely-struggling fish, made his way through the blood-stainedwater and drove his electric weapon deeply into the leather-likeskin. Giving one tremendous jerk that sent the Irishman on his backthe swordfish became as rigid as if it were a frozen carcass ofmutton in a ship's refrigerator.
As quickly as possible Callaghan regained his feet. His Hibernianblood was up. Securing the knife that had fallen from the grasp ofthe slain diver he plunged the blade deeply--not once but manytimes--into the carcass of the swordfish.
At length, satisfied with his efforts, Callaghan desisted, andpointed towards the "Meteor." Although encased in the metal helmetthe sub shook his head. The Irishman saw the gesture. Dacres meant tofollow the length of airtube, through which the air was still beingpumped by the dead man's assistants, who were in ignorance of whathad occurred, although the manometer told them that something wasamiss.