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Submarine Boys for the Flag

<h2 id="id00757" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER IX</h2> <h5 id="id00758">JACK PLAYS WITH A VOLCANO</h5> After something more than an hour's drive the Jehu pulled his horses up, got down from the box and opened one of the doors. "Here you are, young gents. This is the spot where I put the last fare down. An' now you know as much about her whereabouts as I do." The district into which the submarine boys had come was well outside of the city, and in a different direction from Craven's Bay and the Fort. It was bleak and wild here. Even the shanties of the three little villages, with their fish-sheds, their racks with nets spread, the rickety wharves—all looked dismal. It seemed as though here must be one of the spots where only a scanty living is earned and only by the hardest kind of work. "Well, we're much obliged to you, driver, and here's the money promised to you." "Obliged to you, gents. Will you want to be going back with me?" "No," Captain Jack answered. "I reckon we're going to be moored here for a while." "Now, whereaway? What's the course?" demanded Eph Somers. Benson glanced at his watch, then up at the sun. "It'll be dark in about an hour and half," he muttered. "Why not wait until dark? We can't have been seen from any of the villages yet. Looking out over the water you don't see a craft of any sort headed away from here. From this point, looking down, we can see if any of the boats in port get ready to put out. So Millard, if he hasn't already escaped, can't get away by sea without our knowing it. If he tries to get away by land, we're right where we can see him coming." "Then you think we'd better wait here, keeping out of sight, until dark?" asked Hal. "Most decidedly. Don't you?" "Yes," nodded Hal. "But it'll be a mighty tedious wait," growled Eph, the impatient one. "Well, youngster, we're not here to consult our own comfort," retorted Captain Jack. "There's something higher to consult—the best interests of our country." "Oh, if you put it that way!" grumbled Eph, much mollified. The submarine boys had stepped into a little hollow, just off the road, and barely below a rise in the ground. There were trees and bushes about to aid them in concealing themselves. If they saw anyone coming their way they could easily find better hiding. No one came, however. Dark found the boys desperately hungry. "Of course we didn't think to bring anything to eat," uttered Eph, disgustedly. "What are we going to do about it?" "We've got to each of us take a village, presently, enter it and search," replied Captain Jack. "With only one of us to each village, it will be tough luck if each one can't find some one who has enough food to sell a little of it." "How soon are we going to start?" asked Eph, hopefully. "Well, supper time will be the best time to go through the villages," decided the young submarine skipper "If Millard has taken refuge with anyone who lives in one of these villages, he'll be more likely to show himself at supper time than at any other." "It won't take long to look into each of the houses," muttered Hal. "There aren't many in any one of the villages." "If we don't espy our man at table," Captain Jack went on, "we'll have to try other means of finding him out. You two will know what to do when you're on the ground. If Millard is anywhere in the village that you go to look through, don't fail to find him—that's all." Jack chose, for himself, the northernmost village. Hal took the next one, and Eph the southernmost. "Now, remember, fellows," breathed Benson, sharply, as they parted, "the one great thing is not to fail!" The night was dark and the sky overcast as the submarine boys parted to go their several ways. "I think I can understand how Eph feels about his stomach," grimaced Jack, as he strode along. "I don't believe I'd balk, just now, at the plainest food ever cooked. Why, I haven't eaten since this morning!" The evening being rather warm, most of the houses, as Jack neared the village, proved to have open windows. Lights shone, and the fishermen and their families could be seen at table. No one appeared in the street, at first. Jack strolled down the principal street, looking into each house without much difficulty. Yet the one face that he sought was not visible. Down at the further end of the street Benson came upon a tumble-down-looking grocery store. "What kind of sandwiches can you put me up?" queried the submarine boy, casually. "Stranger, eh?" asked the man behind the counter, staring curiously. "Yes; haven't you had any other strangers here lately?" "Not as I knows on," replied the man, a shaggy, unkempt-looking fellow of forty. "None here to-day, eh?" asked Jack, taking out a half-dollar and toying with it on the counter. "Don't remember anybody very special," replied the storekeeper. "You haven't answered me about the kinds of sandwiches you can put up," Jack reminded him. "Not very fancy in that line, young feller. Cheese, or sardines; that's all." "Give me three of each, then," begged Jack. He seized the first sandwich that was prepared and began to eat it. "Hungry, eh!" asked the storekeeper. "Yes," Jack admitted; "for want of anything better to do." "Foller the sea, don't ye?" "Depends," muttered Jack, his mouth half full of sandwich. "When I'm going before a brisk fair wind, sometimes the sea follows me." "'Spose so," grinned the storekeeper, passing over the second sandwich. After that, the fellow got in slightly ahead of the submarine boy's appetite, though Benson finished the whole meal in a few minutes. "Now, if you've got a bottle of soda water, to wash that all down with," hinted Benson. It was forthcoming, also a smoky-looking glass. "So you haven't had any strangers here lately," hinted Captain Jack. "Nope." "Any craft been fitting out to sail to-night or first thing in the morning?" "Nope." "Gracious, but this is a dead place," laughed Jack. "Must be a lot of shacks for rent around here?" "There was one place," stated the storekeeper, "but a dude feller hired it last week. Said some sort o' fishing club'd be down this way to fish, once in a while. That kinder minds me," went on the storekeeper. "I guess maybe some o' that crowd are down, 'cause I saw a light up there at the house, jest come dark." "If there's a fishing club down here, that ought to make business good for you," suggested Captain Jack. "Dunno. They can start tradin' as soon as they like. I'm ready." "Which house has the fishing club hired?" was Jack's next question. "Why, I guess you can make it out from the door," replied the storekeeper, coming out from behind the counter and going to the front of his establishment. "There, if yer eyes are good, you can jest make out a building over there on the point. See it? Well, there's a little boat wharf in front that ye can't see until you get closer." Jack had found out just what he wanted to know. He had the very information for which he had been fishing, nor did he believe the storekeeper suspected him of undue curiosity. "Well, I've got to be moving along, now I'm fed," announced young Benson. "The yacht I belong to is some distance from here. Good night!" Nor did Captain Jack linger in the village. Had anyone stood still in that street and stared after Benson, he would have seen the boy vanish in the darkness. Captain Jack, however, had not disappeared from the scene. He was merely shifting to the part of it that interested him most. Cautiously he stole out along the further side of a ridge of land, toward the rickety old house on the point. "Not a sign of a light, now," breathed the submarine boy. "If Millard was really there, I hope he hasn't had time to get away for good." All was silent and dark about the old house, as Captain Jack stole closer. At nearer range he made the circuit of the house, only to find every window shuttered, and the place as dismal as the grave. "I'm afraid the game has escaped," muttered Benson, with a sinking feeling at his heart. "Yet he didn't escape, by sea or land, while we were watching outside the village. And it was just at dark that the storekeeper saw a light here. I wonder if it would be easy to—" Right there Jack Benson's train of thought broke off. From the opposite side of the house came a sound exactly like that of the opening and closing of a door. "Can that be our man coming out?" wondered Skipper Jack. He started cautiously around the house, but soon drew back around the corner of the building. Dropping to the ground, and lying flat, the submarine boy allowed only the top of his head to show as he peeped. Glory! Jack knew, well enough, that tall figure striding off into the gloom. It was Millard, and under his left arm the fellow carried a large package that might be a bulky portfolio well wrapped. "He has his drawings—his maps of American fortifications and fortified harbors—the very stuff that we want to get!" throbbed the boy. "And now—we're going to get them!" Keeping Millard's receding figure zealously in sight, Jack, crouching low, started after the long-legged one as soon as the distance between seemed sufficient to keep Millard from guessing at pursuit. "Oh, how I wish Hal and Eph were here!" muttered Captain Jack, in keen disappointment. "I need help on this!" Within two minutes Millard had struck into a well-beaten path that led northward over succeeding ridges of laud. In a way, it was easier following here, for there were occasional trees and clumps of bushes behind which the young shadow could drop at need. Two minutes in this path, and Jack Benson's heart gave another quick leap. Some one else was coming stealthily behind him. Jack dodged around a clump of bushes and waited. "Hal!" breathed Jack, almost wild with joy, as the two chums clasped hands fervently for one brief instant. Then: "See here, Hal, I've got to dart forward again, or Millard will be out of sight. But I'll tell you what—while I trail Millard, you concern yourself only with following me." "Good enough," whispered Hastings, nodding. "Now, you start again!" For just an instant Millard had disappeared. However, by moving forward quickly, Benson was soon able to make out the quarry through the darkness. For some five minutes more the chase continued. Then, his long body rather sharply defined against the sky, Millard began the ascent of a low hill that ended in a cliff overlooking the broad ocean. As Millard's course forward could end only in the sea, Jack now crouched low, stealing along a parallel course behind a low ridge of rock. Then Millard suddenly stepped into a clump of tall bushes. Though his game was now out of sight, Jack did not lose his nerve, for he could hear the fellow. Spink! spank! clank! The noise came from a shovel, vigorously used. "Not a hard one to guess," throbbed Captain Jack Benson, exultantly. "He has brought his maps and his stolen records with him, and is burying them in this lonely spot until some other time when he'll feel safe about coming back for them. Talk about luck! Why, Hal and I can pounce on this fellow, when he comes out over yonder, and, after we get him, we can next dig up whatever it is that this foreign agent thinks is worth burying!" Then, with a shade of curiosity, Benson added to himself: "I don't know, yet, how it happened that Hal was on my trail. There wasn't time for him to tell me." Clank! clank! But after a while the noise of the shovel ceased for a while. Captain Jack craned his neck eagerly, trying to pierce the darkness of the night. He could make out nothing, though he heard some one still moving inside the clump of bushes. Then again the noise of the shovel on the dirt was heard. "He's filling in, now, beyond a doubt," thought Captain Jack. "He is burying—what? The maps and records? Hiding them here that he may dig them up at some later date?" Benson chuckled noiselessly. "If that's Millard's game I reckon some one else will do some digging over yonder before he pays this place a second visit!" Ah, the noise had stopped, at last. Now, Millard came out of the thicket. "He hasn't that bundle he brought up here!" throbbed Jack Benson. "And he isn't bringing a shovel out, either, so it must be hidden right handy. Great!" Mr. Millard could depart, now, if he wanted. Jack trusted to his chum, prowling somewhere about, to have the good judgment to follow the long-legged fellow away. As for Benson, he didn't mean to do another thing until he had found the shovel, and had determined just what had been so carefully buried on this dark night! So Jack watched, rather indifferently, as Millard slunk off into the darkness. After three minutes or so had passed, Jack rose and ran straight for the thicket. There it was—new ground, that had just been turned over with a shovel. There was no mound, but the fresh earth showed just where to dig. "Oh, this is as easy as making change for a blind man!" chuckled the young submarine skipper, rubbing his hands ecstatically. What about the shovel? Jack turned to feel around in the darkness. Really, Millard couldn't be such a very clever fellow! Jack had no difficulty in finding the shovel. Its handle was sticking out from under a mass of dead brush. Jack Benson drew out the implement, brandishing it. "Hal had the good sense to shadow that chap away," decided the young skipper. "Otherwise, he'd have been here by this time. Good haul—rascal and records in the same night. For, if Hal goes on Millard's trail, then Millard is pretty sure to be a prisoner before the night is over. Oh, I wish Eph would turn up." Then Jack took a good grip on the shovel. Clank! spink! spink! Having been so recently moved, this dirt was easy to dig. Yet, suddenly, there came a new note on the night air. "Jack, O Jack!" sounded in Hal's frantic tones. "Quick!" "Eh?" called Captain Benson. "What's the row? Come here and see what I can show you!" "No! You come here—quick!" "That's queer," pondered Jack Benson, leaning on his shovel, trying to understand what it could all mean. Then he heard, even at the distance, the sound of Hal Hastings panting, as though engaged in hard physical effort. Again rose Hastings's frantic voice, though somewhat muffled in its sound. "If you don't hustle, it will be too late!" Jack dropped the shovel on the ground, wheeled, and ran down the slope to where Hal's voice sounded. "I'm coming, old fellow!" quivered the submarine skipper, starting to run. Boom! A terrific explosion shook the ground. The air seemed full of flying fragments of rock. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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