MOTOR STORIES

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C., by Street & Smith, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y.

MOTOR MATT'S DEFIANCE

OR,

AROUND THE HORN.

By the author of "MOOR MATT."

CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.

Motor Matt, a lad who is at home with every variety of motor, and whose never-failing nerve serves to carry him through difficulties that would daunt any ordinary young fellow. Because of his daring as a racer with bicycle, motor-cycle and automobile he is known as "Mile-a-minute Matt." Motor-boats, air ships and submarines come naturally in his line, and consequently he lives in an atmosphere of adventure in following up his "hobby." Carl Pretzel, a cheerful and rollicking German boy, stout of frame as well as of heart, who is led by a fortunate accident to link his fortunes with those of Motor Matt. Dick Ferral, a young sea dog from Canada, with all a sailor's superstitions, but in spite of all that a royal chum, ready to stand by the friend of his choice through thick and thin. John Henry Glennie, Ensign, U. S. N., representing the U. S. Government on board the Grampus during her long trip around South America. Captain Enrique Sandoval, of the Chilian warship Salvadore, a sailor who has a faculty for gathering wrong opinions, and an equal

facility for setting himself right and doing justice to those whom his mistaken ideas have wronged. Captain Ichi, and other officers as well as the crew of the mysterious steamship which plays many parts and sails under many flags, the Sons of the Rising Sun, fanatic patriots of Young Japan, to whom nothing is considered valueless that benefits Nippon! Garcia and his four comrades, escaped convicts from the penal settlement at Punta Arenas. Gaines, Speake and Clackett, crew of the Grampus.

CHAPTER I.

TELLTALE SPARKS.

"We have finished repainting the ship, Captain Ichi."

"Very good, lieutenant."

"What flag shall we fly?"

"Where are we?"

"Off Cape Virgins."

"Then break out the Chilian ensign, lieutenant. My compliments to the officer of the deck, and tell him to double the lookout and have a sharp watch kept. If we raise a Chilian ship, haul down the flag, and run up the British flag; if a British ship is sighted, then haul German bunting to the gaff. In any other event, leave the Chilian flag flying. Eternal vigilance is the price of our success for our beloved country, lieutenant."

"Banzai, captain."

"Banzai, Nippon!"

"Any other orders, Captain Ichi?"

"Watch the wireless. As soon as anything is received, let me know."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The swarthy little lieutenant withdrew, his slant eyes gleaming. A few minutes later he clattered to the bridge and repeated Captain Ichi's orders to the officer of the deck, then, descending, he walked to the door of the wireless room.

"Anything yet, Kaneko?" he inquired, lounging in the door.

A young man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table, the wireless "receivers" pushed close to his ears and held there by his fingers. At sight of the lieutenant, whose lips he could see moving, although his stopped ears had not allowed him to hear the question, Kaneko removed the helmet.

"Nothing yet, lieutenant," said he. "I have been two hours getting the instrument to spark properly. A damp helix and a feeble motor were the cause; but now I am ready, and waiting."

"Captain Ichi must know as soon as anything is received."

"I shall inform him immediately, lieutenant."

The lieutenant turned away from the door and passed to the port rail. The steamer was standing off and on[Pg 2] the coast near the entrance to Magellan Strait. As the lieutenant peered landward, he surveyed the cape, and the long spit of low, sandy land stretching southward. He was somewhat familiar with the English coast, and this South American headland he likened to Berry Head, at the north of Torbay.

Turning from the rail, the lieutenant lifted his eyes to where the phosphor-bronze aërials swung between the mastheads, the wires of each "T" held rigidly apart by their wooden stretchers. A passionate look flamed into his yellow face and gleamed from his slant eyes.

"Come, honorable Hertzian waves," he murmured, with a queer gesture of appeal directed at the swinging wires; "give the Sons of the Rising Sun the telltale sparks, the beautiful blue sparks! Let them spell success for Nippon and disaster for the American submarine!"

Taking a little image from his pocket—the image of a sitting Buddha—the lieutenant placed it on the heaving deck and prostrated himself before it. Then, in low breath, he murmured his supplications to the senseless ebony. In the midst of his appeal, a stifled crashing sound came from the wireless room. Starting to his feet, the lieutenant caught up the little idol and returned it to his pocket. Exultation arose to his lips, for his upward-turning eyes saw a blue spark wavering at the ends of the aërials, and to his ears came the hiss and crackle of broken sound as the wires plunged back and forth with the roll of the ship.

The operator appeared in the door of the "station" and nodded. The lieutenant rushed aft to notify the captain.

Presently Captain Ichi arrived in the wireless room and sank into a chair by the table.

"Getting anything important, Kaneko?"

The operator shook his head respectfully and continued to listen and to pencil what he heard on a tab of paper. Finally he settled back in his chair.

"There's a wireless station at Punta Arenas, in the strait, captain," said he.

"Then it must have been recently put there," answered Captain Ichi.

"The Chilians also have a convict settlement at the place."

"Every one knows that."

"Punta Arenas is calling the Chilian war ship Salvadore."

Captain Ichi wrinkled his brows.

"Your instrument is perfectly tuned with the one at Punta Arenas, Kaneko?"

"Perfectly, captain."

"And you can send in the Spanish so that the trick could not be detected?"

"I know the Spanish as well as I know my native tongue."

"Then answer," was the calm reply. "Say this is the Salvadore and ask what Punta Arenas wants."

There was not a quiver in the captain's voice, and not a tremor in Kaneko's fingers as he caught the handle of the big key. Slowly but firmly he worked the key up and down. A blue spark exploded in the gap between the brass knobs of the discharging rods. Sounds like the explosion of firecrackers echoed through the room.

Throwing off his switch, Kaneko jerked the phones over his ears. The captain watched Kaneko's pencil moving over the white paper.

"Five convicts escaped from Punta Arenas last night in a sloop-rigged boat. Watch for them."

The captain studied the words; then, taking his pencil, he wrote underneath:

"Very well. Anything else?"

Kaneko sent the message. Five minutes, ten minutes, passed; then came the question:

"Is that the Chilian gunboat Salvadore?"

"Yes," lied the blue, telltale sparks.

"The United States submarine, in charge of one Matt King, is going around the Horn. Watch for her; pay her a visit if you can, and have the craft carefully looked over. The submarine Grampus is a marvel of her kind, and a long way ahead of any other under-water boat yet launched."

A shout of exultation escaped the captain.

"Where is the submarine now?" he penciled, with shaking fingers.

"Three days out from the River Plate," was the answer, "and must be well below Cape Virgins by now."

"We will watch for her."

"Try to pick her up before she gets far into the Pacific."

"We will try."

As the spark and sputter ceased, Kaneko jerked off his helmet. Captain Ichi had leaped to his feet, and now reached out to grip the operator's hand.

"For the present, Kaneko," he cried, "this is the Chilian war ship Salvadore, and we of the Young Samurai are in the Chilian naval service."

"That is good, captain!"

"The Grampus will be expecting a call from us," pursued the captain. "Who knows but the United States authorities have asked the Chilian government to have the Salvadore meet the submarine and escort her to Valparaiso, thus affording her protection from the Sons of the Rising Sun?"

"Exactly so, captain! We shall find the Grampus, and we shall prevent her from falling into the hands of the United States Government at Mare Island."

"We shall!" and a look of grim determination crossed the captain's face as he moved hurriedly toward the door.

"Banzai, Nippon!" called Kaneko.

Captain Ichi, pausing a moment, pulled a flag of his island empire from his pocket and pressed it to his lips. Just outside the door of the wireless room he met the lieutenant, repeating to him what had taken place in the "station." The lieutenant slapped his hands ecstatically.

"We will call on these Americans who are taking the submarine to Mare Island," said the lieutenant. "It is a rare chance to accomplish our work, Captain Ichi!"

"There could not be a better chance! If possible, the submarine must be destroyed in these southern waters. That, you know, will give us an opportunity to change the color of our vessel and continue our peaceful cruising toward Europe! Our government will never know that we were the ones who destroyed this menace to our beloved Nippon!"

"If they knew it at home——"

The lieutenant did not finish, but winced and shrugged his shoulders.

"We should be heavily punished. Even if the United States found it out, their government would demand that we be hung."

"Harikari before that!"

[Pg 3]

"Harikari? Yes—perhaps that may be best, anyway. We have but one life to give for Nippon."

"And we have vowed to give it! Captain, may I be one of those who visit the Grampus?"

Captain Ichi shook his head.

"I am sorry," said he, "but those who put off to the submarine must have straight eyes! This Motor Matt is one of the sharpest Americans I ever had anything to do with. Slant eyes, lieutenant, would prove that we are not Chilians. Only those who have such eyes can go in the boat."

"She is below the cape?"

"So Punta Arenas reports."

The captain turned and made his way to the bridge. There were two lookouts at the masthead, each watching the surface of the ocean with powerful binoculars.

Captain Ichi gave the quartermaster his course and signaled the engine room for the best speed.

The steamer, flaunting her false colors, bore swiftly away to the southward and toward Cape Horn, bent upon an act of treachery which, to the misguided minds of officers and crew, seemed an act of the highest patriotism.

CHAPTER II.

CLIPPING THE DRAGON'S CLAWS.

"Will it work, matey?"

"It ought to—providing there is anything for it to work with. When you talk by wireless, Dick, you know there has got to be a second instrument within reach of your Hertzian waves. Lucky we were able to pick up that wireless instrument in Buenos Ayres. Lucky, too, that Ensign Glennie knows how to use the key and to talk Spanish."

Just behind a bold headland to the north of Cape Virgins and within the mouth of the River Gallego, the submarine Grampus was anchored. The shore of the little bay lay steep to, the submarine being moored within a jump of the wooded bank.

Wires issued from the conning-tower hatch of the craft, crossed the stretch of water, and climbed a high tree that had been stripped of its branches. From the top of the tree hung the aërials. Below deck, in the periscope room, was the instrument, with John Henry Glennie, Ensign, U. S. N., waiting at the key.

Motor Matt and Dick Ferral were on deck.

"Are you sure, matey," went on Dick, "that that was the Jap steamer our lookout raised from the headland?"

"We can't be sure of anything where those Japs are concerned. The steamer was of about the same size, although differently painted. But, then, paint is cheap, and it sometimes makes a big difference in a boat's appearance. The suspicious circumstance is that, while she was passing the mouth of the Gallegos, she pulled down the cross of St. George and ran up the Chilian flag."

"And she had two wireless masts!" exclaimed Dick. "These Sons of the Rising Sun are wily chaps, but, seeing that we have come from Para, all down the eastern coast of South America without any trouble, I was beginning to think the Japs had given up, and that they were going to let us finish our long cruise without paying us any more attention."

"Remember what Mr. Brigham, the American consul at Para, told us, Dick—that these fanatical young Japs never turn back once they have set their hands to a piece of work. Our business is to get the Grampus around the Horn and into the hands of the commandant of the navy yard at Mare Island, and collect a hundred thousand dollars for Captain Nemo, Jr. The Sons of the Rising Sun came near winning while we were on the way from Port of Spain to Para, and the mere fact that we got the best of them isn't going to cause them to throw up their hands and haul off."[A]

[A] How Motor Matt and his chums were commissioned by Captain Nemo, Jr., to take the Grampus around South America to San Francisco, how they met unexpected enemies, and how they worsted them, was set forth in No. 18 of the Motor Stories, "Motor Matt in Brazil; or, Under the Amazon."

"If there's a wireless machine on that steamer," observed Dick speculatively, "it doesn't seem to me that she can belong to the Japs."

"It was probably easier for the Japs to install a wireless apparatus than it was for us. Undoubtedly they had every part of the machine in the hold of their vessel when they left their own country. As for us, we had to pick up a second-hand instrument at Buenos Ayres. I don't know that wireless telegraphy is going to help us any; but there's a chance that it may, and we can't neglect any chance if we want to clip the claws of the dragon."

"Right-o, old ship! Brigham told us not to let any one know what ports we were to call at, or what course we were going to take. If that steamer belongs to the Japs, those aboard won't know whether we're going through Magellan Strait or around the Horn."

"Our orders," said Matt reflectively, "carry us around the Horn, but those orders were given when it was not known that the Sons of the Rising Sun were after us."

"It was a good scheme putting in here and sending a lookout up on top of that headland," and Dick peered up toward the high point where Speake was sitting with a glass to his eyes. "If you hadn't done that, you'd never have seen that steamer, or——"

Dick was interrupted by a blue flash from the top of the tree.

"Strike me lucky!" he broke off, grabbing Matt's arm in a tense grip. "What does that mean?"

"It means," answered Matt excitedly, shaking off Dick's hand and hurrying toward the conning tower, "that Glennie is in communication with somebody. Stay here and watch, Dick, while I go below."

In the periscope room all was excitement. Clackett, Gaines, Carl, and Glennie were grouped about a table which, loaded with sending and receiving apparatus, completely filled one end of the chamber. Ensign Glennie, stripped to his shirt, was humped over the key, cramming the ear phone to the side of his head and listening breathlessly. Matt pushed close and looked on with deep interest.

"What is it?" he asked, as Glennie leaned back on his seat.

"I can't make out," was the ensign's disappointed answer. "This old second-hand instrument don't seem to be keyed properly, or else we're out of the zone of the ether waves and only catch snatches of—— Ah!" he finished, jumping for the table again.

After a few moments he lifted his head.

"I caught that," he said. "It was Spanish. 'This is the Chilian war ship Salvadore,' ran the message; 'what do you want?' It was clear as a bell, and was sent from [Pg 4]some 'station' fairly close. There comes the answer, and I can't make head or tail to it—the sending instrument is too far away."

"It must come from Punta Arenas, in the strait," averred Matt. "That's a Chilian settlement, and the station there is talking with the war ship."

"Or with that mysterious steamer that passed here a few hours ago," qualified Glennie.

"Py chimineddy!" muttered Carl. "Schust to t'ink dot all dose t'ings vas t'rown troo der air, und——"

"Hist!" warned Matt as Glennie began to take another message off the sounder.

"The supposed war ship answers," said Glennie, "'All right; anything else?'"

"Try and make out what follows, if you can," returned Matt.

The chronometer on the wall ticked off seven minutes.

"I guess that's the end of it, Matt," said Glennie.

"Our spark won't carry to the land station?" queried Matt.

"If theirs won't come here distinctly, ours won't be able to reach them."

"Then we'll get into communication with the boat. Ask if she's the Chilian war ship Salvadore."

The Spanish words ran crackling up the wires to the top of the tree and jumped off into space.

"The answer is 'Yes,' Matt," said Glennie.

"Now give them this," said Matt: "'The United States submarine, in charge of one Matt King, is going around the Horn. Watch for her, pay her a visit, if you can, and have the craft carefully looked over. The submarine Grampus is a marvel of her kind, and a long way ahead of any other under-water boat yet launched.'"

Glennie stared in blank amazement.

"Vy, Matt, dot's a gifavay!" gasped Carl. "Prigham saidt dot ve vasn't to dell anypody vere ve're going."

"That's my notion, Matt," said Glennie.

"Send the message, Glennie," ordered Matt.

The perplexed ensign bent to his key.

"It's gone," he muttered, "and here's something else coming back."

A few minutes later Glennie translated into English the words that had come to his sharp ears.

"They want to know where the submarine is now."

"Tell them," said Matt resolutely, "that she's three days out from the River Plate, and may be well below Cape Virgins by this time."

"Ach, lisden!" whispered Carl. "Pelow Cape Firgins—und here ve are to der nort', in Gallegos Pay."

"They say they will watch for her," reported Glennie, after sending the message and getting the answer.

Matt smiled grimly.

"Tell them, Glennie," said he, "to try and pick her up before she gets around the Horn."

"They say they'll try," announced Glennie presently. "Now," he finished, removing the ear phones, "I'd like to know what you're trying to do, Matt."

"It's a cinch, I think," replied Matt, "that you've been talking with that steamer that passed the headland, bound south, a few hours ago."

"No doubt about that."

"She hauled down the British ensign and hauled up the Chilian flag as she passed."

"Exactly, and that looks suspicious, although it might be explained."

"She says she's a Chilian war ship," went on Matt, "but she had no guns. If she's not a war ship, she's not Chilian; and if she's not Chilian, she's Japanese; and if she's Japanese, she belongs to the Sons of the Rising Sun, who are trying to lay a trap for us. Here's where we have a chance to clip the dragon's claws—and we've virtually accomplished it by wireless."

Matt whirled away.

"Gaines," said he, "you and Clackett strip those wires off that tree and call Speake down from the top of the hill. Carl," he added, "you help Glennie clear these instruments out of the periscope room. They've served their purpose better than I ever dreamed they would when we took them aboard at Buenos Ayres."

Gaines and Clackett at once shinned up the iron ladder to carry out their orders. Carl and Glennie began carrying the wireless machine into the steel room abaft the periscope chamber. Meanwhile Matt was overhauling some charts, which he had spread out on top of the locker.

Dick, Speake, Clackett, and Gaines—the two latter with the coil of wire and the aërial points—came down into the periscope room before Matt was through.

"What's the next move, matey?" asked Dick.

"Get up the anchor and cast off the mooring ropes, old chap," Matt answered, getting to his feet. "If that boat we were talking with really belonged to the Japs, then she's hustling for the Horn to overtake us. While she's beating around the southern end of Terra del Fuego, we'll pass through the Strait of Magellan and reach away up the coast of Chili."