one, two, three hours slid by, and, at last, howard, his eyes fixed on the gage of the accumulators, saw that the power was getting low, and began to watch anxiously for some gleam of light that, striking down through the water, might show a break in the mantle of weed overhead. in vain! everywhere blackness ruled. several times he slowed down and turned off the headlight, hoping that, with its effulgence removed, he might see the longed-for gap. after each attempt he went back to driving the seashark along at her maximum eight miles an hour.
this could not last forever. rapidly his anxiety grew. the seashark had been beneath the water for four hours, and his accumulators were nearly bare. to try to break through the weed was dangerous, but not more so than to remain[231] below until all the power was gone. at all risks they must reach the surface.
for a scant ten minutes longer howard held on, now very close beneath the mantle of weed, then stopped altogether, and waited for the reserve buoyancy of the seashark to carry her upward.
slowly she rose again, and then into the weed. howard could see its slimy fronds through the thick glass of the conning-tower. slowly and more slowly it seemed to brush downward as the seashark worked herself upward. slowly and more slowly until all motion ceased, leaving the vessel still far below the surface.
with a shrug of his shoulders, howard pulled a lever, and in quick response came the throb of the pumps beneath him as with powerful strokes they drove out the water-ballast and made the seashark lighter.
under this new impulse she rose once more, little by little, until at last the[232] pumps sucked dry and motion ceased once more. howard, peering upward, saw the light faintly gleaming through the interstices of the weed. the surface could be scarcely a yard overhead.
“only a yard.” howard muttered the words bitterly. “only a yard! might as well be a thousand!” gently he started the propeller; half a dozen revolutions he knew would hopelessly foul it; but little difference that would make if the seashark could work her way upward by its aid. now forward, now backward he drove it, with his heart in his mouth.
not for long, for the drag on the shaft soon warned him that to go on would shatter the machinery and, even if they reached the surface, leave them helpless far within the bounds of the weedy sea. with a sudden impulse he stopped the engine, and waited to see whether time might not do what machinery had failed to accomplish.
half an hour passed, and the same[233] frond of weed that had lain across his view at its beginning still held its place. the seashark was stationary.
one desperate recourse remained, and howard prepared to take it. he swung down into the cabin where sat the rest of the party forlornly waiting. long before they had realized that something was desperately wrong; but none of them, except perhaps the missionary, were of the weak-kneed type, and none had moved to question howard, even during the age-long interval when he had sat in silence.
howard looked at them one by one, his eyes lingering fondly on dorothy’s flower-like face. “friends all,” he said, quietly, “our situation is most serious. i knew when we dived that in about four hours we must come to the surface to run our gas-engine and recharge our electric batteries. i hoped and believed that in four hours we would come to a place where there were breaks in the weed, or[234] where it was so thin that we could rise through it. neither has turned out to be true. there are no breaks, and the weed is so thick that it holds us down. i have expelled all the water-ballast, and the seashark is now very buoyant; yet it cannot rise to the surface. we are scarcely a foot below it, but we can rise no higher.
“the explanation is evident. the seashark is nearly fifty feet long. probably she intercepted a score of cables of weed as she rose. no doubt there is now a whaleback of sargassum standing above the water just over her. its weight must be very great—too great for even our increased buoyancy to lift farther; while the cables across us prevent the weed from slipping off. the only way to get to the surface—that is to say, the only way to save all our lives, is to cut away the cables that hold us down.”
howard ceased speaking, but no one moved. with the failing power, the[235] electric lights had grown perceptibly dimmer, and the voyageurs could barely see each other’s faces. soon, it was evident, the lights would go out altogether.
“obviously,” howard resumed, “we cannot cut the cables from inside the ship. they can only be reached from the outside by some one who will leave the boat.
“fortunately, this last is not difficult. on the open sea it is even easy. the seashark is a torpedo boat, fitted to discharge torpedoes under water. time and again the crew of an injured submarine have escaped—all but one—by getting into the torpedo tube and being fired out by a moderate charge of compressed air. here in the weed it will be more difficult, of course, but not especially dangerous. so”—the speaker paused and looked around him—“so if one of you will come and touch me off, i’ll see what i can do toward cutting those confounded cables.”
as howard’s voice died away, the[236] electric lights went suddenly out, and a gasp of sheer horror ran through the tiny cabin. for a moment no one spoke; then dorothy groped her way through the blackness to howard’s side.
“not you! not you, my husband!” she murmured. “not you. let me go.”
howard laughed gently as he caressed the unseen face. “not likely, dear,” he answered.
the strident voice of the missionary broke through the gloom. “and if you are drowned in the attempt, what will the rest of us do?” he demanded.
“if i fail, another must try. but i won’t fail.”
“even if that other succeed, what good will it do us? no one but you can run this boat, and we would only exchange death down here for death on the surface. no, mr. howard, you must not go. i will go.”
“you.”
“yes! i.” if the missionary smiled[237] bitterly, no one saw it in the darkness. “oh! i know you all think i am a coward, and perhaps i am. certainly, i did not dare to oppose captain forbes, nor to—— but never mind. i can swim like a fish almost. it is my one manly accomplishment. i can get through the weed if any man can—and if i fail, you will have lost nothing. come! show me what to do.”
howard groped his way to the missionary, and wrung his hand. “i beg your pardon. mr. willoughby,” he said, simply, “i misunderstood you. i accept your offer. come.”
“wait a moment.” dorothy’s soft voice sounded. “i want to thank you, mr. willoughby, and tell you that i never thought hard of you about captain forbes. he was a terrible man. can—can i do anything in—in case you don’t come back?” her voice trailed sobbingly off.
“nothing. i haven’t a chick or a child[238] in the world, and—god bless you, my dear.” with a last pressure of her hand he turned away. “come, mr. howard,” he commanded.
in cimmerian gloom the two men felt their way to the torpedo port. “better take off all your clothes,” counselled howard. “the least thing may serve to hold you in the weed. strap this knife tightly to your arm so you will be sure not to lose it. carry this smaller one between your teeth. don’t lose your head; if you get entangled, keep cool and cut yourself free. when you get to the surface look for the lump of weed above us; it will be conspicuous enough. cut first at one end of the boat, and then at the other, so that we can rise on an even keel. now, if you are ready, climb in head-first.”
the ten minutes that elapsed after howard had “fired off” the missionary were the longest that any of the party had ever known. beneath the water, beneath[239] the weed, in darkness so intense that it positively weighed, each waited in silence the results of the venture on which, in all human probability, depended his or her chance for life. for if mr. willoughby, comparatively small, agile, and a good swimmer, could not get through the interlacing weed, the chances were that none of the others could do so.
bearing mr. willoughby’s clothes, howard had groped his way back to the conning-tower, and to dorothy’s side, and had found her on her knees. “oh! frank! frank!” she sobbed. “let us pray for him. frank! frank!” howard sank beside her, and no more fervent petition than his was ever wafted to the throne of grace.
slowly the minutes ticked themselves away. then, just as hope seemed gone, the seashark gave a sudden lurch, and a gasp of relief arose. it required no expert to tell her passengers that something was happening above the water—a something that could have but one cause.
[240]howard explained it: “mr. willoughby has cut one of the cables that are holding us down—there goes another—and another.” a faint light showed through the grass-filled peep-holes of the conning-tower; promise of the glorious burst to come. “we are rising. we are tearing free.”
rapidly the light grew, until a tiny beam from the westering sun shot straight through a window, and danced gaily about as the seashark rocked to and fro on the smooth surface. at sight of it the women sobbed aloud. what the men did in the darkness can only be guessed.
rapidly howard threw back the cover of the manhole, and let the blessed air of heaven in. instantly mr. willoughby’s head appeared. “have you got my clothes there?” he demanded in a stage whisper.
with a snicker of relief, howard passed up the clothes and, when the missionary[241] was properly arrayed, called all the rest to come on deck.
the seashark was floating in the familiar ocean of weed. no open water was in sight; if any was near it was not visible from a point so low in the water. wreckage floated here and there; not a hundred yards away was the hulk of a dismasted water-logged lumber schooner, and a little farther off were the tangled spars of a huge ship.
howard looked around him and shook his head. “it’s farther to clear water than i had thought,” he told dorothy. “not that it matters. we’ll be out to-morrow morning.” he turned to the rest. “joyce! if you and jackson will cut away the weed from around our propeller, i’ll do the rest. mr. willoughby will give you his knives. by the way, don’t lay them down on the water, or they’ll be a mile or so deep when we want them again.”
joyce turned to willoughby, who[242] blushed. “i—i’m afraid that’s just what i did do, mr. howard,” he explained, confusedly. “anyway, i’ve lost one of the two you gave me.”
“no matter, sir, i’ve got another,” interjected joyce, as he and jackson turned to their allotted task.
left to himself, howard threw the screw-shaft out of connection, and turned the full power of the gas-engine to recharging the electric accumulators. when all was running smoothly, he turned to the rest.
“it will be several hours, at best, before we can start, and i think, on the whole, we had better not do so until toward daylight, so as to be sure of plenty of light when we come up again. if you girls will get supper ready, we might as well dine.”
dinner—or supper—began light-heartedly enough on the part of most of the party. civilization seemed very near, and the spirits of the majority were high[243] accordingly. only howard, to whom rescue meant something very different from what it did to the others, and dorothy, who grieved in sympathy with him, were silent and distrait. toward the end of the meal, jackson, who had been unwontedly talkative, suddenly awoke to the realization that the time was rapidly approaching when he must again become the jailer of the man who had saved his life and his happiness. under this incubus he suddenly shut up.
the other three did not understand howard’s situation. for some reason forbes, it seemed, had not told his information (or suspicions), about the naval officer, and his single reference to them, at the time of the wedding, had passed over the heads of both the joyces and of mr. willoughby. so they chattered on light-heartedly enough, until the meal was over, and howard dismissed them to sleep.
a little later that night, when all the[244] rest were sleeping, worn out by the excitement and arduous labors of the day, dorothy slipped up on deck, where howard was watching the dials of his accumulators as they slowly crept toward the maximum.
there was no moon, but the phosphorescence of the weed filled the air with a weird witch-light, in which the seashark and floating wreckage bulked black. so strong was the gleam that howard could see the dark circles under dorothy’s eyes as she sank down by his side.
“there, there! sweetheart,” he whispered, gently. “you ought to be getting your beauty sleep. we’ll probably be picked up to-morrow, and you must look your best.”
but dorothy refused to heed the badinage. “oh! frank, frank,” she murmured, miserably. “i don’t want to be picked up. can’t—can’t we put the rest ashore somewhere, and slip away—just you and i. when i think of what will[245] happen—— oh, frank, i can’t bear it!”
howard drew her toward him, and tilted up her face until he could look down into her troubled eyes. “don’t be afraid, dear,” he murmured, “everything is going to come out right. it will take a little time perhaps, but it will all come right in the end. the providence that has watched over us and brought us through so much will not fail us now.”
“but—but—to have you in prison, even for a day! oh, frank, i can’t bear it! you have saved mr. jackson’s life, rescued him, made him rich—surely he will not be cruel enough to——”
“hush! hush! dear. jackson must do his duty. i wouldn’t have him fail in it on my account for the world. besides, i must surrender in order to prove my innocence. before, i did not have the money to send to porto rico for witnesses; now i have. there must be plenty of people down there who have seen the real husband of that poor dolores montoro.[246] money will bring them to new york. once they see me they will know that i am not he—even though they may have identified my photograph. i ran away before only because i knew of no other way to reach them. now that i have another way, i must take it.”
dorothy was thoughtful for a moment. then she nodded slowly. “you are right, frank,” she murmured. “you always are. it will break my heart, but—it is the only way. i see that. it isn’t only your liberty i want; your honor must be cleared as well.”
“there’s my brave girl!”
soon dorothy spoke again. “frank,” she said, “tell me! how did you escape from prison? i don’t understand.”
howard hesitated. then: “i can’t tell you very much about it, dear. but this i will say: an officer on my last ship—one, too, for whom i am ashamed to say i had never cared much—stood my friend all through the trial, and at the end aided me to get away. he——”
[247]“it was mr. loving! i know it was mr. loving!”
“hush! even the sea-weed has ears. you must never say anything about it, or it would get him into terrible trouble. yes, it was loving. do you know him?”
dorothy twisted and untwisted her fingers. “yes,” she murmured, “i know him. it—it was on his account that i went to porto rico.”
“on his account?”
“yes. he—he wanted to marry me, and father wanted me to accept him, and i couldn’t. i couldn’t! i knew you must exist somewhere, frank—you—the only man in the world for me—and i ran away from new york to avoid him. you are not angry, are you, frank?”
“angry! at what? but i’m afraid i’ve made a terrible botch of things; saddled a convict husband on you, and robbed my best friend of his bride.”
dorothy raised her hand to his lips. “hush! dear,” she said. “i wouldn’t[248] exchange my husband for any man in the wide world; and as for mr. loving—well, he couldn’t be robbed of what he never had, and never could have had.”
the note of the engines suddenly changed, and howard, bending over, glanced at the accumulator dial. “the battery is fully charged, dear,” he said, as he shut off the engine. “and it is certainly time to rest.”
