Doomed To Death

: Tom Swift And His Submarine Boat

There was no room on the small deck of the submarine to make a stand

against the officers and crew of the Brazilian warship. In fact, the

capture of the gold-seekers had been effected so suddenly that their

astonishment almost deprived them of the power to think clearly.



At another command from the officer, who was addressed as Admiral

Fanchetti, several of the sailors began to lead Tom and his friends

to ard the small boat.



"Do you feel all right, father?" inquired the lad anxiously, as he

looked at his parent. "These scoundrels have no right to treat us so."



"Yes, Tom, I'm all right as far as the electric shock is concerned, but

I don't like to be handled in this fashion."



"We ought not to submit!" burst out Mr. Damon. "Bless the stars and

stripes! We ought to fight."



"There's no chance," said Mr. Sharp. "We are right under the guns of

the ship. They could sink us with one shot. I guess we'll have to give

in for the time being."



"It is most unpleasant, if I may be allowed the expression," commented

Captain Weston mildly. He seemed to have lost his sudden anger, but

there was a steely glint in his eyes, and a grim, set look around his

month that showed his temper was kept under control only by an effort.

It boded no good to the sailors who had hold of the doughty captain if

he should once get loose, and it was noticed that they were on their

guard.



As for Tom, he submitted quietly to the two Brazilians who had hold of

either arm, and Mr. Swift was held by only one, for it was seen that he

was feeble.



"Into the boat with them!" cried Admiral Fanchetti. "And guard them

well, Lieutenant Drascalo, for I heard them plotting to escape," and

the admiral signaled to a younger officer, who was in charge of the men

guarding the prisoners.



"Lieutenant Drascalo, eh?" murmured Mr. Damon. "I think they made a

mistake naming him. It ought to be Rascalo. He looks like a rascal."



"Silenceo!" exclaimed the lieutenant, scowling at the odd character'.



"Bless my spark plug! He's a regular fire-eater!" went on Mr. Damon,

who appeared to have fully recovered his spirits.



"Silenceo!" cried the lieutenant, scowling again, but Mr. Damon did not

appear to mind.



Admiral Fanchetti and several others of the gold-laced officers

remained aboard the submarine, while Tom and his friends were hustled

into the small boat and rowed toward the warship.



"I hope they don't damage our craft," murmured the young inventor, as

he saw the admiral enter the conning tower.



"If they do, we'll complain to the United States consul and demand

damages," said Mr. Swift.



"I'm afraid we won't have a chance to communicate with the consul,"

remarked Captain Weston.



"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Damon. "Bless my shoelaces, but will

these scoundrels--"



"Silenceo!" cried Lieutenant Drascalo quickly. "Dogs of Americans, do

you wish to insult us?"



"Impossible; you wouldn't appreciate a good, genuine United States

insult," murmured Tom under his breath.



"What I mean," went on the captain, "is that these people may carry the

proceedings off with a high hand. You heard the admiral speak of a

court-martial."



"Would they dare do that?" inquired Mr. Sharp.



"They would dare anything in this part of the world, I'm afraid,"

resumed Captain Weston. "I think I see their plan, though. This admiral

is newly in command; his uniform shows that He wants to make a name for

himself, and he seizes on our submarine as an excuse. He can send word

to his government that he destroyed a torpedo craft that sought to

wreck his ship. Thus he will acquire a reputation."



"But would his government support him in such a hostile act against the

United States, a friendly nation?" asked Tom.



"Oh, he would not claim to have acted against the United States as a

power. He would say that it was a private submarine, and, as a matter

of fact, it is. While we are under the protection of the stars and

stripes, our vessel is not a Government one," and Captain Weston spoke

the last in a low voice, so the scowling lieutenant could not hear.



"What will they do with us?" inquired Mr. Swift.



"Have some sort of a court-martial, perhaps," went on the captain, "and

confiscate our craft Then they will send us back home, I expect for

they would not dare harm us."



"But take our submarine!" cried Tom. "The villains--"



"Silenceo!" shouted Lieutenant Drascalo and he drew his sword.



By this time the small boat was under the big guns of the San Paulo,

and the prisoners were ordered, in broken English, to mount a companion

ladder that hung over the side. In a short time they were on deck, amid

a crowd of sailors, and they could see the boat going back to bring off

the admiral, who signaled from the submarine. Tom and his friends were

taken below to a room that looked like a prison, and there, a little

later, they were visited by Admiral Fanchetti and several officers.



"You will be tried at once," said the admiral. "I have examined your

submarine and I find she carries two torpedo tubes. It is a wonder you

did not sink me at once."



"Those are not torpedo tubes!" cried Tom, unable to keep silent, though

Captain Weston motioned him to do so.



"I know torpedo tubes when I see them," declared the admiral. "I

consider I had a very narrow escape. Your country is fortunate that

mine does not declare war against it for this act. But I take it you

are acting privately, for you fly no flag, though you claim to be from

the United States."



"There's no place for a flag on the submarine," went on Tom. "What good

would it be under water?"



"Silenceo!" cried Lieutenant Drascalo, the admonition to silence

seeming to be the only command of which he was capable.



"I shall confiscate your craft for my government," went on the admiral,

"and shall punish you as the court-martial may direct. You will be

tried at once."



It was in vain for the prisoners to protest. Matters were carried with

a high hand. They were allowed a spokesman, and Captain Weston, who

understood Spanish, was selected, that language being used. But the

defense was a farce, for he was scarcely listened to. Several officers

testified before the admiral, who was judge, that they had seen the

submarine rise out of the water, almost under the prow of the San

Paulo. It was assumed that the Advance had tried to wreck the warship,

but had failed. It was in vain that Captain Weston and the others told

of the reason for their rapid ascent from the ocean depths--that Mr.

Swift had been shocked, and needed fresh air. Their story was not

believed.



"We have heard enough!" suddenly exclaimed the admiral. "The evidence

against you is over-whelming--er--what you Americans call conclusive,"

and he was speaking then in broken English. "I find you guilty, and the

sentence of this court-martial is that you be shot at sunrise, three

days hence!"



"Shot!" cried Captain Weston, staggering back at this unexpected

sentence. His companions turned white, and Mr. Swift leaned against his

son for support.



"Bless my stars! Of all the scoundrelly!" began Mr. Damon.



"Silenceo!" shouted the lieutenant, waving his sword.



"You will be shot," proceeded the admiral. "Is not that the verdict of

the honorable court?" he asked, looking at his fellow officers. They

all nodded gravely.



"But look here!" objected Captain Weston. "You don't dare do that! We

are citizens of the United States, and--"



"I consider you no better than pirates," interrupted the admiral. "You

have an armed submarine--a submarine with torpedo tubes. You invade our

harbor with it, and come up almost under my ship. You have forfeited

your right to the protection of your country, and I have no fear on

that score. You will be shot within three days. That is all. Remove

the prisoners."



Protests were in vain, and it was equally useless to struggle. The

prisoners were taken out on deck, for which they were thankful, for the

interior of the ship was close and hot, the weather being intensely

disagreeable. They were told to keep within a certain space on deck,

and a guard of sailors, all armed, was placed near them. From where

they were they could see their submarine floating on the surface of the

little bay, with several Brazilians on the small deck. The Advance had

been anchored, and was surrounded by a flotilla of the native boats,

the brown-skinned paddlers gazing curiously at the odd craft.



"Well, this is tough luck!" murmured Tom. "How do you feel, dad?"



"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," was the reply.

"What do you think about this, Captain Weston?"



"Not very much, if I may be allowed the expression," was the answer.



"Do you think they will dare carry out that threat?" asked Mr. Sharp.



The captain shrugged his shoulders. "I hope it is only a bluff," he

replied, "made to scare us so we will consent to giving up the

submarine, which they have no right to confiscate. But these fellows

look ugly enough for anything," he went on.



"Then if there's any chance of them attempting to carry it out," spoke

Tom, "we've got to do something."



"Bless my gizzard, of course!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "But what? That's

the question. To be shot! Why, that's a terrible threat! The villains--"



"Silenceo!" shouted Lieutenant Drascalo, coming up at that moment.









Chapter Twenty-One



The Escape





Events had happened so quickly that day that the gold-hunters could

scarcely comprehend them. It seemed only a short time since Mr. Swift

had been discovered lying disabled on the dynamo, and what had

transpired since seemed to have taken place in a few minutes, though it

was, in reality, several hours. This was made manifest by the feeling

of hunger on the part of Tom and his friends.



"I wonder if they're going to starve us, the scoundrels?" asked Mr.

Sharp, when the irate lieutenant was beyond hearing. "It's not fair to

make us go hungry and shoot us in the bargain."



"That's so, they ought to feed us," put in Tom. As yet neither he nor

the others fully realized the meaning of the sentence passed on them.



From where they were on deck they could look off to the little island.

From it boats manned by natives were constantly putting off, bringing

supplies to the ship. The place appeared to be a sort of calling

station for Brazilian warships, where they could get fresh water and

fruit and other food.



From the island the gaze of the adventurers wandered to the submarine,

which lay not far away. They were chagrined to see several of the

bolder natives clambering over the deck.



"I hope they keep out of the interior," commented Tom. "If they get to

pulling or hauling on the levers and wheels they may open the tanks and

sink her, with the Conning tower open."



"Better that, perhaps, than to have her fall into the hands of a

foreign power," commented Captain Weston. "Besides, I don't see that

it's going to matter much to us what becomes of her after we're--"



He did not finish, but every one knew what he meant, and a grim silence

fell upon the little group.



There came a welcome diversion, however, in the shape of three sailors,

bearing trays of food, which were placed on the deck in front of the

prisoners, who were sitting or lying in the shade of an awning, for the

sun was very hot.



"Ha! Bless my napkin-ring!" cried Mr. Damon with something of his

former gaiety. "Here's a meal, at all events. They don't intend to

starve us. Eat hearty, every one."



"Yes, we need to keep up our strength," observed Captain Weston.



"Why?" inquired Mr. Sharp.



"Because we're going to try to escape!" exclaimed Tom in a low voice,

when the sailors who had brought the food had gone. "Isn't that what

you mean, captain?"



"Exactly. We'll try to give these villains the slip, and we'll need all

our strength and wits to do it. We'll wait until night, and see what we

can do."



"But where will we escape to?" asked Mr. Swift. "The island will afford

no shelter, and--"



"No, but our submarine will," went on the sailor.



"It's in the possession of the Brazilians," objected Tom.



"Once I get aboard the Advance twenty of those brown-skinned villains

won't keep me prisoner," declared Captain Weston fiercely. "If we can

only slip away from here, get into the small boat, or even swim to the

submarine, I'll make those chaps on board her think a hurricane has

broken loose."



"Yes, and I'll help," said Mr. Damon.



"And I," added Tom and the balloonist.



"That's the way to talk," commented the captain. "Now let's eat, for I

see that rascally lieutenant coming this way, and we mustn't appear to

be plotting, or he'll be suspicious."



The day passed slowly, and though the prisoners seemed to be allowed

considerable liberty, they soon found that it was only apparent. Once

Tom walked some distance from that portion of the deck where he and the

others had been told to remain. A sailor with a gun at once ordered him

back. Nor could they approach the rails without being directed, harshly

enough at times, to move back amidships.



As night approached the gold-seekers were on the alert for any chance

that might offer to slip away, or even attack their guard, but the

number of Brazilians around them was doubled in the evening, and after

supper, which was served to them on deck by the light of swinging

lanterns, they were taken below and locked in a stuffy cabin. They

looked helplessly at each other.



"Don't give up," advised Captain Weston. "It's a long night. We may be

able to get out of here."



But this hope was in vain. Several times he and Tom, thinking the

guards outside the cabin were asleep, tried to force the lock of the

door with their pocket-knives, which had not been taken from them. But

one of the sailors was aroused each time by the noise, and looked in

through a barred window, so they had to give it up. Slowly the night

passed, and morning found the prisoners pale, tired and discouraged.

They were brought up on deck again, for which they were thankful, as in

that tropical climate it was stifling below.



During the day they saw Admiral Fanchetti and several of his officers

pay a visit to the submarine. They went below through the opened

conning tower, and were gone some time.



"I hope they don't disturb any of the machinery," remarked Mr. Swift.

"That could easily do great damage."



Admiral Fanchetti seemed much pleased with himself when he returned

from his visit to the submarine.



"You have a fine craft," he said to the prisoners. "Or, rather, you had

one. My government now owns it. It seems a pity to shoot such good boat

builders, but you are too dangerous to be allowed to go."



If there had been any doubt in the minds of Tom and his friends that

the sentence of the court-martial was only for effect, it was dispelled

that day. A firing squad was told off in plain view of them, and the

men were put through their evolutions by Lieutenant Drascalo, who had

them load, aim and fire blank cartridges at an imaginary line of

prisoners. Tom could not repress a shudder as he noted the leveled

rifles, and saw the fire and smoke spurt from the muzzles.



"Thus we shall do to you at sunrise to-morrow," said the lieutenant,

grinning, as he once more had his men practice their grim work.



It seemed hotter than ever that day. The sun was fairly broiling, and

there was a curious haziness and stillness to the air. It was noticed

that the sailors on the San Paulo were busy making fast all loose

articles on deck with extra lashings, and hatch coverings were doubly

secured.



"What do you suppose they are up to?" asked Tom of Captain Weston.



"I think it is coming on to blow," he replied, "and they don't want to

be caught napping. They have fearful storms down in this region at this

season of the year, and I think one is about due."



"I hope it doesn't wreck the submarine," spoke Mr. Swift. "They ought

to close the hatch of the conning tower, for it won't take much of a

sea to make her ship considerable water."



Admiral Fanchetti had thought of this, however, and as the afternoon

wore away and the storm signs multiplied, he sent word to close the

submarine. He left a few sailors aboard inside on guard.



"It's too hot to eat," observed Tom, when their supper had been brought

to them, and the others felt the same way about it. They managed to

drink some cocoanut milk, prepared in a palatable fashion by the

natives of the island, and then, much to their disgust, they were taken

below again and locked in the cabin.



"Whew! But it certainly is hot!" exclaimed Mr. Damon as he sat down on

a couch and fanned himself. "This is awful!"



"Yes, something is going to happen pretty soon," observed Captain

Weston. "The storm will break shortly, I think."



They sat languidly about the cabin. It was so oppressive that even the

thought of the doom that awaited them in the morning could hardly seem

worse than the terrible heat. They could hear movements going on about

the ship, movements which indicated that preparations were being made

for something unusual. There was a rattling of a chain through a hawse

hole, and Captain Weston remarked:



"They're putting down another anchor. Admiral Fanchetti had better get

away from the island, though, unless he wants to be wrecked. He'll be

blown ashore in less than no time. No cable or chain will hold in such

storms as they have here."



There came a period of silence, which was suddenly broken by a howl as

of some wild beast.



"What's that?" cried Tom, springing up from where he was stretched out

on the cabin floor.



"Only the wind," replied the captain. "The storm has arrived."



The howling kept up, and soon the ship began to rock. The wind

increased, and a little later there could be heard, through an opened

port in the prisoners' cabin, the dash of rain.



"It's a regular hurricane!" exclaimed the captain. "I wonder if the

cables will hold?"



"What about the submarine?" asked Mr. Swift anxiously.



"I haven't much fear for her. She lies so low in the water that the

wind can't get much hold on her. I don't believe she'll drag her

anchor."



Once more came a fierce burst of wind, and a dash of rain, and then,

suddenly above the outburst of the elements, there sounded a crash on

deck. It was followed by excited cries.



"Something's happened!" yelled Tom. The prisoners gathered in a

frightened group in the middle of the cabin. The cries were repeated,

and then came a rush of feet just outside the cabin door.



"Our guards! They're leaving!" shouted Tom.



"Right!" exclaimed Captain Weston. "Now's our chance! Come on! If we're

going to escape we must do it while the storm is at its height, and all

is in confusion. Come on!"



Tom tried the door. It was locked.



"One side!" shouted the captain, and this time he did not pause to say

"by your leave." He came at the portal on the run, and his shoulder

struck it squarely. There was a splintering and crashing of wood, and

the door was burst open.



"Follow me!" cried the valiant sailor, and Tom and the others rushed

after him. They could hear the wind howling more loudly than ever, and

as they reached the deck the rain dashed into their faces with such

violence that they could hardly see. But they were aware that something

had occurred. By the light of several lanterns swaying in the terrific

blast they saw that one of the auxiliary masts had broken off near the

deck.



It had fallen against the chart house, smashing it, and a number of

sailors were laboring to clear away the wreckage.



"Fortune favors us!" cried Captain Weston. "Come on! Make for the small

boat. It's near the side ladder. We'll lower the boat and pull to the

submarine."



There came a flash of lightning, and in its glare Tom saw something

that caused him to cry out.



"Look!" he shouted. "The submarine. She's dragged her anchors!"



The Advance was much closer to the warship than she had been that

afternoon. Captain Weston looked over the side.



"It's the San Paulo that's dragging her anchors, not the submarine!" he

shouted. "We're bearing down on her! We must act quickly. Come on,

we'll lower the boat!"



In the rush of wind and the dash of rain the prisoners crowded to the

accommodation companion ladder, which was still over the side of the

big ship. No one seemed to be noticing them, for Admiral Fanchetti was

on the bridge, yelling orders for the clearing away of the wreckage.

But Lieutenant Drascalo, coming up from below at that moment, caught

sight of the fleeing ones. Drawing his sword, he rushed at them,

shouting:



"The prisoners! The prisoners! They are escaping!"



Captain Weston leaped toward the lieutenant



"Look out for his sword!" cried Tom. But the doughty sailor did not

fear the weapon. Catching up a coil of rope, he cast it at the

lieutenant. It struck him in the chest, and he staggered back, lowering

his sword.



Captain Weston leaped forward, and with a terrific blow sent Lieutenant

Drascalo to the deck.



"There!" cried the sailor. "I guess you won't yell 'Silenceo!' for a

while now."



There was a rush of Brazilians toward the group of prisoners. Tom

caught one with a blow on the chin, and felled him, while Captain

Weston disposed of two more, and Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon one each. The

savage fighting of the Americans was too much for the foreigners, and

they drew back.



"Come on!" cried Captain Weston again. "The storm is getting worse. The

warship will crash into the submarine in a few minutes. Her anchors

aren't holding. I didn't think they would."



He made a dash for the ladder, and a glance showed him that the small

boat was in the water at the foot of it. The craft had not been hoisted

on the davits.



"Luck's with us at last!" cried Tom, Seeing it also. "Shall I help

you, dad?"



"No; I think I'm all right. Go ahead."



There came such a gust of wind that the San Paulo was heeled over, and

the wreck of the mast, rolling about, crashed into the side of a deck

house, splintering it. A crowd of sailors, led by Admiral Fanchetti,

who were again rushing on the escaping prisoners, had to leap back out

of the way of the rolling mast.



"Catch them! Don't let them get away!" begged the commander, but the

sailors evidently had no desire to close in with the Americans.



Through the rush of wind and rain Tom and his friends staggered down

the ladder. It was hard work to maintain one's footing, but they

managed it. On account of the high side of the ship the water was

comparatively calm under her lee, and, though the small boat was

bobbing about, they got aboard. The oars were in place, and in another

moment they had shoved off from the landing stage which formed the foot

of the accommodation ladder.



"Now for the Advance!" murmured Captain Weston.



"Come back! Come back, dogs of Americans!" cried a voice at the rail

over their heads, and looking up, Tom saw Lieutenant Drascalo. He had

snatched a carbine from a marine, and was pointing it at the recent

prisoners. He fired, the flash of the gun and a dazzling chain of

lightning coming together. The thunder swallowed up the report of the

carbine, but the bullet whistled uncomfortable close to Tom's head. The

blackness that followed the lightning shut out the view of everything

for a few seconds, and when the next flash came the adventurers saw

that they were close to their submarine.



A fusillade of shots sounded from the deck of the warship, but as the

marines were poor marksmen at best, and as the swaying of the ship

disconcerted them, our friends were in little danger.



There was quite a sea once they were beyond the protection of the side

of the warship, but Captain Weston, who was rowing, knew how to manage

a boat skillfully, and he soon had the craft alongside the bobbing

submarine.



"Get aboard, now, quick!" he cried.



They leaped to the small deck, casting the rowboat adrift. It was the

work of but a moment to open the conning tower. As they started to

descend they were met by several Brazilians coming up.



"Overboard with 'em!" yelled the captain. "Let them swim ashore or to

their ship!"



With almost superhuman strength he tossed one big sailor from the small

deck. Another showed fight, but he went to join his companion in the

swirling water. A man rushed at Tom, seeking the while to draw his

sword, but the young inventor, with a neat left-hander, sent him to

join the other two, and the remainder did not wait to try conclusions.

They leaped for their lives, and soon all could be seen, in the

frequent lightning flashes, swimming toward the warship which was now

closer than ever to the submarine.



"Get inside and we'll sink below the surface!" called Tom. "Then we

don't care what happens."



They closed the steel door of the conning tower. As they did so they

heard the patter of bullets from carbines fired from the San Paulo.

Then came a violent tossing of the Advance; the waves were becoming

higher as they caught the full force of the hurricane. It took but an

instant to sever, from within, the cable attached to the anchor, which

was one belonging to the warship. The Advance began drifting.



"Open the tanks, Mr. Sharp!" cried Tom. "Captain Weston and I will

steer. Once below we'll start the engines."



Amid a crash of thunder and dazzling flashes of lightning, the

submarine began to sink. Tom, in the conning tower had a sight of the

San Paulo as it drifted nearer and nearer under the influence of the

mighty wind. As one bright flash came he saw Admiral Fanchetti and

Lieutenant Drascalo leaning over the rail and gazing at the Advance.



A moment later the view faded from sight as the submarine sank below

the surface of the troubled sea. She was tossed about for some time

until deep enough to escape the surface motion. Waiting until she was

far enough down so that her lights would not offer a mark for the guns

of the warship, the electrics were switched on.



"We're safe now!" cried Tom, helping his father to his cabin. "They've

got too much to attend to themselves to follow us now, even if they

could. Shall we go ahead, Captain Weston?"



"I think so, yes, if I may be allowed to express my opinion," was the

mild reply, in strange contrast to the strenuous work in which the

captain had just been engaged.



Tom signaled to Mr. Sharp in the engine-room, and in a few seconds the

Advance was speeding away from the island and the hostile vessel. Nor,

deep as she was now, was there any sign of the hurricane. In the

peaceful depths she was once more speeding toward the sunken treasure.









Chapter Twenty-Two



At the Wreck





"Well," remarked Mr. Damon, as the submarine hurled herself forward

through the ocean, "I guess that firing party will have something else

to do to-morrow morning besides aiming those rifles at us."



"Yes, indeed," agreed Tom. "They'll be lucky if they save their ship.

My, how that wind did blow!"



"You're right," put in Captain Weston. "When they get a hurricane down

in this region it's no cat's paw. But they were a mighty careless lot

of sailors. The idea of leaving the ladder over the side, and the boat

in the water."



"It was a good thing for us, though," was Tom's opinion.



"Indeed it was," came from the captain. "But as long as we are safe now

I think we'd better take a look about the craft to see if those chaps

did any damage. They can't have done much, though, or she wouldn't be

running so smoothly. Suppose you go take a look, Tom, and ask your

father and Mr. Sharp what they think. I'll steer for a while, until we

get well away from the island."



The young inventor found his father and the balloonist busy in the

engine-room. Mr. Swift had already begun an inspection of the

machinery, and so far found that it had not been injured. A further

inspection showed that no damage had been done by the foreign guard

that had been in temporary possession of the Advance, though the

sailors had made free in the cabins, and had broken into the food

lockers, helping themselves plentifully. But there was still enough for

the gold-seekers.



"You'd never know there was a storm raging up above," observed Tom as

he rejoined Captain Weston in the lower pilot house, where he was

managing the craft. "It's as still and peaceful here as one could wish."



"Yes, the extreme depths are seldom disturbed by a surface storm. But

we are over a mile deep now. I sent her down a little while you were

gone, as I think she rides a little more steadily."



All that night they speeded forward, and the next day, rising to the

surface to take an observation, they found no traces of the storm,

which had blown itself out. They were several hundred miles away from

the hostile warship, and there was not a vessel in sight on the broad

expanse of blue ocean.



The air tanks were refilled, and after sailing along on the surface for

an hour or two, the submarine was again sent below, as Captain Weston

sighted through his telescope the smoke of a distant steamer.



"As long as it isn't the Wonder, we're all right," said Tom. "Still, we

don't want to answer a lot of questions about ourselves and our object."



"No. I fancy the Wonder will give up the search," remarked the captain,

as the Advance was sinking to the depths.



"We must be getting pretty near to the end of our search ourselves,"

ventured the young inventor.



"We are within five hundred miles of the intersection of the



forty-fifth parallel and the twenty-seventh meridian, east from

Washington," said the captain. "That's as near as I could locate the

wreck. Once we reach that point we will have to search about under

water, for I don't fancy the other divers left any buoys to mark the

spot."



It was two days later, after uneventful sailing, partly on the surface,

and partly submerged, that Captain Weston, taking a noon observation,

announced:



"Well, we're here!"



"Do you mean at the wreck?" asked Mr. Swift eagerly.



"We're at the place where she is supposed to lie, in about two miles of

water," replied the captain. "We are quite a distance off the coast of

Uruguay, about opposite the harbor of Rio de La Plata. From now on we

shall have to nose about under water, and trust to luck."



With her air tanks filled to their capacity, and Tom having seen that

the oxygen machine and other apparatus was in perfect working order,

the submarine was sent below on her search. Though they were in the

neighborhood of the wreck, the adventurers might still have to do

considerable searching before locating it. Lower and lower they sank

into the depths of the sea, down and down, until they were deeper than

they had ever gone before. The pressure was tremendous, but the steel

sides of the Advance withstood it.



Then began a search that lasted nearly a week. Back and forth they

cruised, around in great circles, with the powerful searchlight focused

to disclose the sunken treasure ship. Once Tom, who was observing the

path of light in the depths from the conning tower, thought he had seen

the remains of the Boldero, for a misty shape loomed up in front of the

submarine, and he signaled for a quick stop. It was a wreck, but it had

been on the ocean bed for a score of years, and only a few timbers

remained of what had been a great ship. Much disappointed, Tom rang for

full speed ahead again, and the current was sent into the great

electric plates that pulled and pushed the submarine forward.



For two days more nothing happened. They searched around under the

green waters, on the alert for the first sign, but they saw nothing.

Great fish swam about them, sometimes racing with the Advance. The

adventurers beheld great ocean caverns, and skirted immense rocks,

where dwelt monsters of the deep. Once a great octopus tried to do

battle with the submarine and crush it in its snaky arms, but Tom saw

the great white body, with saucer-shaped eyes, in the path of light and

rammed him with the steel point. The creature died after a struggle.



They were beginning to despair when a full week had passed and they

were seemingly as far from the wreck as ever. They went to the surface

to enable Captain Weston to take another observation. It only confirmed

the other, and showed that they were in the right vicinity. But it was

like looking for a needle in a haystack, almost, to and the sunken ship

in that depth of water.



"Well, we'll try again," said Mr. Swift, as they sank once more beneath

the surface.



It was toward evening, on the second day after this, that Tom, who was

on duty in the conning tower, saw a black shape looming up in front of

the submarine, the searchlight revealing it to him far enough away so

that he could steer to avoid it. He thought at first that it was a

great rock, for they were moving along near the bottom, but the

peculiar shape of it soon convinced him that this could not be. It came

more plainly into view as the submarine approached it more slowly, then

suddenly, out of the depths in the illumination from the searchlight,

the young inventor saw the steel sides of a steamer. His heart gave a

great thump, but he would not call out yet, fearing that it might be

some other vessel than the one containing the treasure.



He steered the Advance so as to circle it. As he swept past the bows he

saw in big letters near the sharp prow the word, Boldero.



"The wreck! The wreck!" he cried, his voice ringing through the craft

from end to end. "We've found the wreck at last!"



"Are you sure?" cried his father, hurrying to his son, Captain Weston

following.



"Positive," answered the lad. The submarine was slowing up now, and Tom

sent her around on the other side. They had a good view of the sunken

ship. It seemed to be intact, no gaping holes in her sides, for only

her plates had started, allowing her to sink gradually.



"At last," murmured Mr. Swift. "Can it be possible we are about to get

the treasure?"



"That's the Boldero, all right," affirmed Captain Weston. "I recognize

her, even if the name wasn't on her bow. Go right down on the bottom,

Tom, and we'll get out the diving suits and make an examination."



The submarine settled to the ocean bed. Tom glanced at the depth gage.

It showed over two miles and a half. Would they be able to venture out

into water of such enormous pressure in the comparatively frail diving

suits, and wrest the gold from the wreck? It was a serious question.



The Advance came to a stop. In front of her loomed the great bulk of

the Boldero, vague and shadowy in the flickering gleam of the

searchlight As the gold-seekers looked at her through the bull's-eyes

of the conning tower, several great forms emerged from beneath the

wreck's bows.



"Deep-water sharks!" exclaimed Captain Weston, "and monsters, too. But

they can't bother us. Now to get out the gold!"









Chapter Twenty-Three



Attacked by Sharks





For a few minutes after reaching the wreck, which had so occupied their

thoughts for the past weeks, the adventurers did nothing but gaze at it

from the ports of the submarine. The appearance of the deep-water

sharks gave them no concern, for they did not imagine the ugly

creatures would attack them. The treasure-seekers were more engrossed

with the problem of getting out the gold.



"How are we going to get at it?" asked Tom, as he looked at the high

sides of the sunken ship, which towered well above the comparatively

small Advance.



"Why, just go in and get it," suggested Mr. Damon. "Where is gold in a

cargo usually kept, Captain Weston? You ought to know, I should think.

Bless my pocketbook!"



"Well, I should say that in this case the bullion would be kept in a

safe in the captain's cabin," replied the sailor. "Or, if not there,

in some after part of the vessel, away from where the crew is

quartered. But it is going to be quite a problem to get at it. We can't

climb the sides of the wreck, and it will be impossible to lower her

ladder over the side. However, I think we had better get into the

diving suits and take a closer look. We can walk around her."



"That's my idea," put in Mr. Sharp. "But who will go, and who will stay

with the ship?"



"I think Tom and Captain Weston had better go," suggested Mr. Swift.

"Then, in case anything happens, Mr. Sharp, you and I will be on board

to manage matters."



"You don't think anything will happen, do you, dad?" asked his son with

a laugh, but it was not an easy one, for the lad was thinking of the

shadowy forms of the ugly sharks.



"Oh, no, but it's best to be prepared," answered his father.



The captain and the young inventor lost no time in donning the diving

suits. They each took a heavy metal bar, pointed at one end, to use in

assisting them to walk on the bed of the ocean, and as a protection in

case the sharks might attack them. Entering the diving chamber, they

were shut in, and then water was admitted until the pressure was seen,

by gauges, to be the same as that outside the submarine. Then the

sliding steel door was opened. At first Tom and the captain could

barely move, so great was the pressure of water on their bodies. They

would have been crushed but for the protection afforded by the strong

diving suits.



In a few minutes they became used to it, and stepped out on the floor

of the ocean. They could not, of course, speak to each other, but Tom

looked through the glass eyes of his helmet at the captain, and the

latter motioned for the lad to follow. The two divers could breathe

perfectly, and by means of small, but powerful lights on the helmets,

the way was lighted for them as they advanced.



Slowly they approached the wreck, and began a circuit of her. They

could see several places where the pressure of the water, and the

strain of the storm in which she had foundered, had 'opened the plates

of the ship, but in no case were the openings large enough to admit a

person. Captain Weston put his steel bar in one crack, and tried to

pry it farther open, but his strength was not equal to the task. He

made some peculiar motions, but Tom could not understand them.



They looked for some means by which they could mount to the decks of

the Boldero, but none was visible. It was like trying to scale a

fifty-foot smooth steel wall. There was no place for a foothold. Again

the sailor made some peculiar motions, and the lad puzzled over them.

They had gone nearly around the wreck now, and as yet had seen no way

in which to get at the gold. As they passed around the bow, which was

in a deep shadow from a great rock, they caught sight of the submarine

lying a short distance away. Light streamed from many hull's-eyes, and

Tom felt a sense of security as he looked at her, for it was lonesome

enough in that great depth of water, unable to speak to his companion,

who was a few feet in advance.



Suddenly there was a swirling of the water, and Tom was nearly thrown

off his feet by the rush of some great body. A long, black shadow

passed over his head, and an instant later he saw the form of a great

shark launched at Captain Weston. The lad involuntarily cried in alarm,

but the result was surprising. He was nearly deafened by his own voice,

confined as the sound was in the helmet he wore. But the sailor, too,

had felt the movement of the water, and turned just in time. He thrust

upward with his pointed bar. But he missed the stroke, and Tom, a

moment later, saw the great fish turn over so that its mouth, which is

far underneath its snout, could take in the queer shape which the shark

evidently thought was a choice morsel. The big fish did actually get

the helmet of Captain Weston inside its jaws, but probably it would

have found it impossible to crush the strong steel. Still it might have

sprung the joints, and water would have entered, which would have been

as fatal as though the sailor had been swallowed by the shark. Tom

realized this and, moving as fast as he could through the water, he

came up behind the monster and drove his steel bar deep into it.



The sea was crimsoned with blood, and the savage creature, opening its

mouth, let go of the captain. It turned on Tom, who again harpooned it.

Then the fish darted off and began a wild flurry, for it was dying. The

rush of water nearly threw Tom off his feet, but he managed to make his

way over to his friend, and assist him to rise. A confident look from

the sailor showed the lad that Captain Weston was uninjured, though he

must have been frightened. As the two turned to make their way back to

the submarine, the waters about them seemed alive with the horrible

monsters.



It needed but a glance to show what they were, Sharks! Scores of them,

long, black ones, with their ugly, undershot mouths. They had been

attracted by the blood of the one Tom had killed, but there was not a

meal for all of them off the dying creature, and the great fish might

turn on the young inventor and his companion.



The two shrank closer toward the wreck. They might get under the prow

of that and be safe. But even as they started to move, several of the

sea wolves darted quickly at them. Tom glanced at the captain. What

could they do? Strong as were the diving suits, a combined attack by

the sharks, with their powerful jaws, would do untold damage.



At that moment there seemed some movement on board the submarine. Tom

could see his father looking from the conning tower, and the aged

inventor seemed to be making some motions. Then Tom understood. Mr.

Swift was directing his son and Captain Weston to crouch down. The lad

did so, pulling the sailor after him. Then Tom saw the bow electric gun

run out, and aimed at the mass of sharks, most of whom were congregated

about the dead one. Into the midst of the monsters was fired a number

of small projectiles, which could be used in the electric cannon in

place of the solid shot. Once more the waters were red with blood, and

those sharks which were not killed swirled off. Tom and Captain Weston

were saved. They were soon inside the submarine again, telling their

thrilling story.



"It's lucky you saw us, dad," remarked the lad, blushing at the praise

Mr. Damon bestowed on him for killing the monster which had attacked

the captain.



"Oh, I was on the lookout," said the inventor. "But what about getting

into the wreck?"



"I think the only way we can do it will be to ram a hole in her side,"

said Captain Weston. "That was what I tried to tell Tom by motions, but

he didn't seem to understand me."



"No," replied the lad, who was still a little nervous from his recent

experience. "I thought you meant for us to turn it over, bottom side

up," and he laughed.



"Bless my gizzard! Just like a shark," commented Mr. Damon.



"Please don't mention them," begged Tom. "I hope we don't see any more

of them."



"Oh, I fancy they have been driven far enough away from this

neighborhood now," commented the captain. "But now about the wreck. We

may be able to approach it from above. Suppose we try to lower the

submarine on it? That will save ripping it open."



This was tried a little later, but would not work. There were strong

currents sweeping over the top of the Boldero, caused by a submerged

reef near which she had settled. It was a delicate task to sink the

submarine on her decks, and with the deep waters swirling about was

found to be impossible, even with the use of the electric plates and

the auxiliary screws. Once more the Advance settled to the ocean bed,

near the wreck.



"Well, what's to be done?" asked Tom, as he looked at the high steel

sides.



"Ram her, tear a hole, and then use dynamite," decided Captain Weston

promptly. "You have some explosive, haven't you, Mr. Swift?"



"Oh, yes. I came prepared for emergencies."



"Then we'll blow up the wreck and get at the gold."









Chapter Twenty-Four



Ramming the Wreck





Fitted with a long, sharp steel ram in front, the Advance was

peculiarly adapted for this sort of work. In designing the ship this

ram was calculated to be used against hostile vessels in war time, for

the submarine was at first, as we know, destined for a Government boat.

Now the ram was to serve a good turn.



To make sure that the attempt would be a success, the machinery of the

craft was carefully gone over. It was found to be in perfect order,

save for a few adjustments which were needed. Then, as it was night,

though there was no difference in the appearance of things below the

surface, it was decided to turn in, and begin work in the morning. Nor

did the gold-seekers go to the surface, for they feared they might

encounter a storm.



"We had trouble enough locating the wreck," said Captain Weston, "and

if we go up we may be blown off our course. We have air enough to stay

below, haven't we, Tom?"



"Plenty," answered the lad, looking at the gages.



After a hearty breakfast the next morning, the submarine crew got ready

for their hard task. The craft was backed away as far as was practical,

and then, running at full speed, she rammed the wreck. The shock was

terrific, and at first it was feared some damage had been done to the

Advance, but she stood the strain.



"Did we open up much of a hole?" anxiously asked Mr. Swift.



"Pretty good," replied Tom, observing it through the conning tower

bull's-eyes, when the submarine had backed off again. "Let's give her

another."



Once more the great steel ram hit into the side of the Boldero, and

again the submarine shivered from the shock. But there was a bigger

hole in the wreck now, and after Captain Weston had viewed it he

decided it was large enough to allow a person to enter and place a

charge of dynamite so that the treasure ship would be broken up.



Tom and the captain placed the explosive. Then the Advance was

withdrawn to a safe distance. There was a dull rumble, a great swirling

of the water, which was made murky; but when it cleared, and the

submarine went back, it was seen that the wreck was effectively broken

up. It was in two parts, each one easy of access.



"That's the stuff!" cried Tom. "Now to get at the gold!"



"Yes, get out the diving suits," added Mr. Damon. "Bless my

watch-charm, I think I'll chance it in one myself! Do you think the

sharks are all gone, Captain Weston?"



"I think so."



In a short time Tom, the captain, Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon were attired

in the diving suits, Mr. Swift not caring to venture into such a great

depth of water. Besides, it was necessary for at least one person to

remain in the submarine to operate the diving chamber.



Walking slowly along the bottom of the sea the four gold-seekers

approached the wreck. They looked on all sides for a sight of the

sharks, but the monster fish seemed to have deserted that part of the

ocean. Tom was the first to reach the now disrupted steamer. He found

he could easily climb up, for boxes and barrels from the cargo holds

were scattered all about by the explosion. Captain Weston soon joined

the lad. The sailor motioned Tom to follow him, and being more familiar

with ocean craft the captain was permitted to take the lead. He headed

aft, seeking to locate the captain's cabin. Nor was he long in finding

it. He motioned for the others to enter, that the combined illumination

of the lamps in their helmets would make the place bright enough so a

search could be made for the gold. Tom suddenly seized the arm of the

captain, and pointed to one corner of the cabin. There stood a small

safe, and at the sight of it Captain Weston moved toward it. The door

was not locked, probably having been left open when the ship was

deserted. Swinging it back the interior was revealed.



It was empty. There was no gold bullion in it.



There was no mistaking the dejected air of Captain Weston. The others

shared his feelings, but though they all felt like voicing their

disappointment, not a word could be spoken. Mr. Sharp, by vigorous

motions, indicated to his companions to seek further.



They did so, spending all the rest of the day in the wreck, save for a

short interval for dinner. But no gold rewarded their search.



Tom, late that afternoon, wandered away from the others, and found

himself in the captain's cabin again, with the empty safe showing dimly

in the water that was all about.



"Hang it all!" thought the lad, "we've had all our trouble for nothing!

They must have taken the gold with them."



Idly he raised his steel bar, and struck it against the partition back

of the safe. To his astonishment the partition seemed to fall inward,

revealing a secret compartment. The lad leaned forward to bring the

light for his helmet to play on the recess. He saw a number of boxes,

piled one upon the other. He had accidentally touched a hidden spring

and opened a secret receptacle. But what did it contain?



Tom reached in and tried to lift one of the boxes. He found it beyond

his strength. Trembling from excitement, he went in search of the

others. He found them delving in the after part of the wreck, but by

motions our hero caused them to follow him. Captain Weston showed the

excitement he felt as soon as he caught sight of the boxes. He and Mr.

Sharp lifted one out, and placed it on the cabin floor. They pried off

the top with their bars.



There, packed in layers, were small yellow bars; dull, gleaming, yellow

bars! It needed but a glance to show that they were gold bullion. Tom

had found the treasure. The lad tried to dance around there in the

cabin of the wreck, nearly three miles below the surface of the ocean,

but the pressure of water was too much for him. Their trip had been

successful.









Chapter Twenty-Five



Home With the Gold





There was no time to be lost. They were in a treacherous part of the

ocean, and strong currents might at any time further break up the

wreck, so that they could not come at the gold. It was decided, by

means of motions, to at once transfer the treasure to the submarine. As

the boxes were too heavy to carry easily, especially as two men, who

were required to lift one, could not walk together in the uncertain

footing afforded by the wreck, another plan was adopted. The boxes were

opened and the bars, a few at a time, were dropped on a firm, sandy

place at the side of the wreck. Tom and Captain Weston did this work,

while Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon carried the bullion to the diving chamber

of the Advance. They put the yellow bars inside, and when quite a

number had been thus shifted, Mr. Swift, closing the chamber, pumped

the water out and removed the gold. Then he opened the chamber to the

divers again, and the process was repeated, until all the bullion had

been secured.



Tom would have been glad to make a further examination of the wreck,

for he thought he could get some of the rifles the ship carried, but

Captain Weston signed to him not to attempt this.



The lad went to the pilot house, while his father and Mr. Sharp took

their places in the engine-room. The gold had been safely stowed in Mr.

Swift's cabin.



Tom took a last look at the wreck before he gave the starting signal.

As he gazed at the bent and twisted mass of steel that had once been a

great ship, he saw something long, black and shadowy moving around from

the other side, coming across the bows.



"There's another big shark," he observed to Captain Weston. "They're

coming back after us."



The captain did not speak. He was staring at the dark form. Suddenly,

from what seemed the pointed nose of it, there gleamed a light, as from

some great eye.



"Look at that!" cried Tom. "That's no shark!"



"If you want my opinion," remarked the sailor, "I should say it was the

other submarine--that of Berg and his friends--the Wonder. They've

managed to fix up their craft and are after the gold."



"But they're too late!" cried Tom excitedly. "Let's tell them so."



"No," advised the captain. "We don't want any trouble with them."



Mr. Swift came forward to see why his son had not given the signal to

start. He was shown the other submarine, for now that the Wonder had

turned on several searchlights, there was no doubt as to the identity

of the craft.



"Let's get away unobserved if we can," he suggested. "We have had

trouble enough."



It was easy to do this, as the Advance was hidden behind the wreck, and

her lights were glowing but dimly. Then, too, those in the other

submarine were so excited over the finding of what they supposed was

the wreck containing the treasure, that they paid little attention to

anything else.



"I wonder how they'll feel when they find the gold gone?" asked Tom as

he pulled the lever starting the pumps.



"Well, we may have a chance to learn, when we get back to

civilization," remarked the captain.



The surface was soon reached, and then, under fair skies, and on a calm

sea, the voyage home was begun. Part of the time the Advance sailed on

the top, and part of the time submerged.



They met with but a single accident, and that was when the forward

electrical plate broke. But with the aft one still in commission, and

the auxiliary screws, they made good time. Just before reaching home

they settled down to the bottom and donned the diving suits again, even

Mr. Swift taking his turn. Mr. Damon caught some large lobsters, of

which he was very fond, or, rather, to be more correct, the lobsters

caught him. When he entered the diving chamber there were four fine

ones clinging to different parts of his diving suit. Some of them were

served for dinner.



The adventurers safely reached the New Jersey coast, and the submarine

was docked. Mr. Swift at once communicated with the proper authorities

concerning the recovery of the gold. He offered to divide with the

actual owners, after he and his friends had been paid for their

services, but as the revolutionary party to whom the bullion was

intended had gone out of existence, there was no one to officially

claim the treasure, so it all went to Tom and his friends, who made an

equitable distribution of it. The young inventor did not forget to buy

Mrs. Baggert a fine diamond ring, as he had promised.



As for Berg and his employers, they were, it was learned later, greatly

chagrined at finding the wreck valueless. They tried to make trouble

for Tom and his father, but were not successful.



A few days after arriving at the seacoast cottage, Tom, his father and

Mr. Damon went to Shopton in the airship. Captain Weston, Garret

Jackson and Mr Sharp remained behind in charge of the submarine. It was

decided that the Swifts would keep the craft and not sell it to the

Government, as Tom said they might want to go after more treasure some

day.



"I must first deposit this gold," said Mr. Swift as the airship landed

in front of the shed at his home. "It won't do to keep it in the house

over night, even if the Happy Harry gang is in jail."



Tom helped him take it to the bank. As they were making perhaps the

largest single deposit ever put in the institution, Ned Newton came out.



"Well, Tom," he cried to his chum, "it seems that you are never going

to stop doing things. You've conquered the air, the earth and the

water."



"What have you been doing while I've been under water, Ned?" asked the

young inventor.



"Oh, the same old thing. Running errands and doing all sorts of work in

the bank."



Tom had a sudden idea. He whispered to his father and Mr. Swift nodded.

A little later he was closeted with Mr. Prendergast, the bank

president. It was not long before Ned and Tom were called in.



"I have some good news for you, Ned," said Mr. Prendergast, while Tom

smiled. "Mr. Swift er--ahem--one of our largest depositors, has spoken

to me about you, Ned. I find that you have been very faithful. You are

hereby appointed assistant cashier, and of course you will get a much

larger salary."



Ned could hardly believe it, but he knew then what Tom had whispered to

Mr. Swift. The wishes of a depositor who brings much gold bullion to a

bank can hardly be ignored.



"Come on out and have some soda," invited Tom, and when Ned looked

inquiringly at the president, the latter nodded an assent.



As the two lads were crossing the street to a drug store, something

whizzed past them, nearly running them down.



"What sort of an auto was that?" cried Tom.



"That? Oh, that was Andy Foger's new car," answered Ned. "He's been

breaking the speed laws every day lately, but no one seems to bother

him. It's because his father is rich, I suppose. Andy says he has the

fastest car ever built."



"He has, eh?" remarked Tom, while a curious look came into his eyes.

"Well, maybe I can build one that will beat his."



And whether the young inventor did or not you can learn by reading the

fifth volume of this series, to be called "Tom Swift and His Electric

Runabout; Or, The Speediest Car on the Road."



"Well, Tom, I certainly appreciate what you did for me in getting me a

better position," remarked Ned as they left the drug store. "I was

beginning to think I'd never get promoted. Say, have you anything to do

this evening? If you haven't, I wish you'd come over to my house. I've

got a lot of pictures I took while you were away."



"Sorry, but I can't," replied Tom.



"Why, are you going to build another airship or submarine?"



"No, but I'm going to see-- Oh, what do you want to know for, anyhow?"

demanded the young inventor with a blush. "Can't a fellow go see a

girl without being cross-questioned?"



"Oh, of course," replied Ned with a laugh. "Give Miss Nestor my

regards," and at this Tom blushed still more. But, as he said, that was

his own affair.