The Submarine Boys and the Spies Part 22

It was Hal Hastings's voice that rang through the little cave. Hal had just crawled in through the tunnel. Now, the young engineer, his frame shaking with indignation, stood up at nearly his full length, prepared to spring upon Gaston, who, also, had leaped to his feet.

"I thought it would be worth while to watch and shadow you to-night,"

jeered Hal, angrily. "It turns out I was right. The bushes planted before the mouth of the tunnel bothered me, a while, in finding the way in here after you--_but now I'm here!_"

Of a sudden Hal leaped forward, intent upon pouncing on the chauffeur.

But Hal's foot caught in a break in the flooring. He pitched and fell forward.

With a snarl of glee Gaston burled himself upon the prostrate body of the second submarine boy, pounding him furiously.

CHAPTER XIII

THE FELLOW WHO SHOWED THE WHITE FLAG

Hal lay face down, and subjected to all the brutal fury of the Frenchman's a.s.sault.

For a few seconds young Hastings did all in his power to fight back.

He was rapidly losing consciousness, however, and poor Jack lay unable to lend as much as a finger's weight to the defense of his chum.

Then, with an oath in a foreign tongue, Gaston forced Hal's hands back, snapping handcuffs on the engineer's wrists.

"Now, then, you young pest!" snarled Gaston, springing to his feet.

"Instead of one of you, I have two. But two shall give me no more trouble than one. So you thought you could subdue me--_me_, did you?"

"I'd have thrashed you all right," muttered Hal, his senses returning under the storm of taunts, "if my foot hadn't caught and thrown me.

You wouldn't dare to free my hands and let me to my feet, just to see what would happen to you! You can't fight--unless all the advantage is handed to you. You're a coward--not a fighter!"

"Careful, my young firebrand, or I'll teach you to be more polite to me," sneered the Frenchman.

"Polite to you?" jeered Hal. "Polite to a spy--to a thief of nations!

Polite to a scoundrel who wants to steal the biggest secret of defense that the United States Navy has!"

"Oh, we'll have your secret all right," announced the Frenchman, his voice harsh with triumph. "We now have the two boys who know all about the secrets of the Pollard boats!"

"This sounds so good, I reckon we'd better go right on in, Jerry," broke in another voice.

Gaston started, as did the two submarine boys. Then the chauffeur leaped to the mouth of the tunnel, only to draw back in dismay as a big form emerged and loomed up before his startled vision.

The last comer wore the dress and insignia of a petty officer of the United States Navy.

"Get back there!" warned this big apparition, waving a warning hand that looked big enough to be a ham. "n.o.body can't go out until we look into this cargo."

After the big sailor a smaller one crawled out of the tunnel, rising to his feet. Though he was smaller, this second sailor was not exactly what could have been called a little man.

"Now, then," demanded the big sailor, "whose captain of this craft?"

Gaston, his eyes threatening to bulge from his head, had fallen back against the wall opposite. His mouth was wide open, but he ventured no answer.

"Stow my sidelights, Jerry," muttered the big sailor to his mate, "but this is a queer looking hold! And two young men here who'd look like officers of the service, if they wasn't so young."

"There never was anybody more delighted to you," broke fervently from Jack Benson's. "You belong to the 'Waverly'?"

"Aye, aye, s.h.i.+pmate."

"Then you know the submarine, of course?"

"Aye, s.h.i.+pmate."

"I am the captain, and my friend the engineer, of that craft."

The big sailor's reply was an explosive yell.

"Don't let that snake-in-the-gra.s.s Frenchman get away, mates," begged Jack, earnestly.

"Jerry, I reckon you can hold the only gang way that opens in on this place, can't ye?" demanded the big sailor, turning to his st.u.r.dy looking s.h.i.+pmate.

"I reckon, Hickey," said the other.

"This Frenchman is one of a gang of foreign spies, who have taken this means to force us to furnish plans, drawings and all information about the Pollard submarine boats," Jack continued. "You see how he has us ironed down here."

"Got the keys to them irons, Frenchy?" demanded the big sailor, turning upon Gaston.

"Yes," s.h.i.+vered the fellow, looking yellow with fright.

"Then turn our s.h.i.+pmates loose. Not too much delay about it, either,"

ordered Hickey.

Gaston obeyed as meekly as a lamb. There was a look in Hickey's steady eyes which would lead one to suppose that the big sailor might be able to use his strength in tearing a worthless human being apart.

"I hope you can understand all the thanks I feel like giving," remarked the young submarine captain, as he rose to his feet, then offered his hand to the big sailor.

"Oh, stow the thanks, anyway," laughed Hickey. "But Jerry and me ain't in for what we thought might be coming to us."

"What was that?" asked Jack, with interest, turning back as he held out his hand to Jerry.

"Why, ye see," nodded Hickey, after glancing down at the Frenchman, who was now unlocking Hal's handcuffs, "I've got a home, a little plantation about two miles back here, that I'm going to settle on for good one of these days. The wife and kids live there. I'd been telling Jerry about the craft and crew, and, as soon as we got sh.o.r.e leave, I took Jerry in tow. We've seen up there two days, and to-night we started back through the woods, 'cause our leave is up at six in the morning.

"Well, while we was coming through the woods we happened to stop a minute. Then we see this Frenchy sneaking through the woods. We wondered what was up. Then he vanished. We looked about, some quiet-like, and on tiptoe, and then we saw this s.h.i.+pmate o' your'n pry apart some bushes and head in this way. It looked queer to us."

"What did you think was up?" asked Jack.

"Why, as near as we could figger, this was some smuggler's hidin' place, and we was figgerin' that perhaps Jerry and me would have five 'hundred or a thousand dollars' reward to divvy up on. It wa'n't--but, anyway, Jerry an' me are proper glad we stumbled in on this, just the same.

Now, mate, spin yer own yarn."

Hal was on his feet, by this time, and shaking hands with the two rescuers. Gaston, at the furthest end of the little room, again cowered against the wall, frightened and surly.