Part 4 (1/2)
He raced downward, toward that faint pounding noise. And then he saw the bombs.
It seemed to Juan there were bombs everywhere. Actually there weren't so many, but they had been so placed that they would blow the vitals out of the s.h.i.+p, would sink it within seconds.
Juan tried to put out the fuse in the first bomb he encountered. He saw he couldn't do it. The fuse was inclosed in a metal tube. He had to have help.
Desperately, frantically, he raced toward the sound of the pounding. Now he could hear men shouting, screaming.
He reached a barred door. It was the steel door to the stockroom. A huge iron rod locked the door from the outside. More than the rod was there now. Chains had been wrapped about it and padlocked.
And there were no keys.
Juan Lucke knew terror then, knew despite his youth that there was no hope for those men behind the door, and probably little for himself.
But he tried. He threw his tiny strength against the rod and chains and padlocks. He added his screams to those of the men inside.
It was one of those men who saved him, a hero never identified. The man recognized Juan's voice, understood what was happening.
”Run, nino! Run, lad!” the man shouted. ”We are gone. Save yourself!”
Juan ran. He grabbed a life preserver just before he leaped overside to swim wildly from the doomed S.
S. Bellina.
Then the world came to an end in a series of terrific blasts. When Juan recovered consciousness he found that the life preserver had saved him.
But the S. S. Bellina and the submarine were gone.
Juan was picked up next morning by a big cruise liner en route to Havana. His terror-stricken story was flashed to New York in time to make the early editions of the afternoon newspapers.
That story created an international sensation.
Chapter VI. ANOTHER PAYS.
MONK was first to reach Doc's office with a newspaper telling of the Bellina's sinking. The headlines read:SUB SINKS ARGENTINA BOAT IN U.S. WATERS.
KILLING NEUTRAL CREW.
”We didn't find action in New Orleans, but daggonit we oughtta do somethin' about this!” the hairy chemist howled.
”It could mean war,” Long Tom rapped excitedly.
Ham grabbed the paper from Monk's hands, scanned the story beneath the headlines swiftly.
”Yes, but who with?” he asked logically. ”The sole survivor was a cabin boy. He saw a submarine, but he saw no markings to indicate its nationality.”
”What difference does that make? We can go find out, can't we?” Monk bellowed.
A low, trilling sound filled the office suddenly. It was a peculiar sound, vibrant and carrying, yet seemingly coming from everywhere, not one particular spot.
It was a sound Doc Savage made unconsciously when he was surprised.
The bronze man's three aids spun, startled. Doc had appeared from an inner room, but so silently had he moved that none of the three had heard him.
Without a word, Ham handed the paper to Doc. The bronze man's gold-flecked eyes whirled strangely as he read of the terror that had struck so close to the sh.o.r.es of the United States.
”Dang it, Doc!” Monk burst out. ”This is really somethin' we should get busy on. That sea-serpent thing was a bust-”
”Yes, we could find nothing in New Orleans. The story must have been a hoax,” Ham put in.
”For the first time, Monk and Ham agree on something, and I'm forced to admit I concur,” Long Tom added maliciously.
Doc said nothing for the moment. Then he turned to Monk. ”I am not so sure,” he said gravely. ”Let me see that picture that was sent us from New Orleans.”
Monk's face turned crimson. Even his ears got red. Ham snickered outright, and even Long Tom had difficulty in keeping his features straight.
The homely chemist pulled out the picture, handed it to Doc. The bronze man produced a magnifying gla.s.s, held it so the others could see the enlarged image it made.
”You will notice,” he explained, ”that there are several tentaclelike objects in the foreground. Close examination I believe will prove those 'tentacles' really are cables of some kind. But behind them, almost hidden, is another object. Look closely.”
Ham leaned forward excitedly. ”It- Blamed if it doesn't look something like the conning tower of a submarine!” he blurted.
”Yes,” Doc Savage agreed. ”That is what I thought when I first saw the picture.”HIS aids looked at each other quickly. They were accustomed to having surprises pulled out of the hat, but they hadn't expected this one.
Monk was the first to see the answer. ”Dang!” he howled. ”That pilot. The one that fell against me.”
Comprehension dawned on the others. The grimy-faced pilot who had taken them to New Orleans had been Doc Savage.
The bronze man was a master at disguise, but even so he occasionally put over one that his closest friends could hardly credit.
”I agreed with you Monk that the 'sea-serpent' story needed investigating,” the bronze man was explaining. ”But there was nothing to indicate that it might prove as serious as this. However, although you did not seem to want me, I decided to go along.”
For one of the few times in his life, Monk felt humble. Then he brightened. At least, no matter what happened, Doc had been along. And that was something.
Then he thought of something else. ”But that stop in Was.h.i.+ngton-”
”I had not seen the picture then,” Doc reminded. ”However, I knew the navy often experiments with new inventions secretly. I thought it best to check with high officials so that we would not go blundering in where we did not belong.”
”But this picture-” Long Tom began.
”Look,” Doc said simply.
The bronze man turned the picture over. The back apparently was blank. Doc produced a pair of colored gla.s.ses, handed them to Long Tom.
A howl came from the electrical expert. The gla.s.ses had been especially made. They brought out secret writing that ordinarily could be read only under infraray light.