The Motion Picture Comrades Aboard a Submarine

OR Searching for Treasure Under the Sea

BY ELMER TRACEY BARNES

THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY NEW YORK

Copyright, 1917, by AMERICAN AUTHORS PUBLISHING CO.

CHAPTER I HOW IT HAPPENED

“Jack will be back from the express office soon, and then, I take it, if everything is shipshape, this queer contraption they call a diving-boat and named the Argonaut, expects to get away from Baltimore, eh, Oscar?”

“So the Captain told me, Ballyhoo. He has his clearance papers, all right.”

“Huh! Guess the port officials didn’t examine this craft as closely as they might have done in these troublous times, with more than half the world ablaze.”

“Lower your voice a bit, Ballyhoo, when you are referring to the rifles, and that quick-firing gun they’ve got so snugly hidden below. But it’s all fair and square. Every steam craft is allowed one gun for defensive purposes. Some big Atlantic liners have a three-inch gun at the stern, you remember.”

[14]

“A very good reason we have, too, for carrying one, Oscar, since the main object of our trip to tropical seas is the recovery of sunken treasure.”

“And don’t forget either, while about it, Ballyhoo, that there’s opposition in the field, a rival expedition headed by that old blockade-runner and adventurer, Captain Badger.”

“That’s right, and we may need our gun badly before we come back again—if we ever do.”

“Well, most of our interest in this wonderful trip doesn’t lie in the chance of finding the stores of gold and silver lying in the old hulks of vessels that were sunk, some of them a hundred or two years ago. We’ve got our own plans to carry out, and could call the venture a glorious success even if we didn’t run across a single Spanish doubloon.”

“Yes, providing the scheme works, as Jack believes it will, and his judgment is worth a whole lot on anything that is connected with motion picture photography. We hope to secure films that are bound to startle the world of screen lovers, showing as they will the up to now unknown secrets lying deep down under the surface of the sea.”

“It’s a great risk we’re taking, but we’ve put over two big jobs so far and why not a third? Those circus films are still going the rounds, and pronounced gilt-edged wherever they are shown.”[1]

“Yes, and our series of pictures depicting wild[15] animal life in the African jungles have met with great favor too.[2] We’ve been overwhelmed ever since we got back, with all sorts of wildcat offers to undertake new schemes, all of which so far we’ve had to turn down. And yet here we are about to start off on the most hazardous adventure that any one could possibly think of.”

“But this is different, you know, Ballyhoo; and besides it came to us through that old uncle of your mother’s, who has a third interest in the venture, though he was knocked out of accompanying the boat by that bad attack of rheumatism.”

“Well, I wish Jack would hurry up, because I think our Captain acts as if he might be anxious to cast off, and steam down Chesapeake Bay.”

The speakers were a couple of hardy looking well grown boys. They lounged on the little upper deck, if such it could be called, of a very odd-looking craft lying snugly hidden in a certain secluded basin connected with a Baltimore shipyard.

In fact the low, squatty craft was nothing more nor less than a submarine built somewhat after the style of those steel whaleback barges used for carrying huge cargoes of grain on the Northern Lakes.

Money had not been spared in the building and equipping of this craft, which was really owned and controlled by the “Argonaut Submarine Diving-boat[16] Company,” and constructed for a purpose which has been partly disclosed by the brief conversation between the two boys.

Oscar Farrar and his two chums lived in the town of Melancton in an Eastern State. The boy whom he had been calling by that quaint nickname of “Ballyhoo” was really Jonathan Edwards Jones. For some years he had taken such delight in mimicking the animals usually seen in a menagerie, as well as the “barkers” who tried to coax the gaping public to patronize their side shows, where all manner of freaks were on exhibition, that naturally enough he soon found himself given the name of “Ballyhoo,” which term is often used to designate loud-tongued orators.

The third boy, whom they had mentioned as “Jack,” had Anderson for a surname. He was a positive marvel in connection with anything that had to do with photography in all its branches. His father before him had been devoted to the art, and had spent several years, lost in the wilds of Darkest Africa, a prisoner in the big kraal of a savage black king, from which captivity he had only recently escaped, thanks to the bravery of his son and his chums.

The three comrades were now about to start forth on an expedition that really dwarfed their previous successes by virtue of its daring. This fascinating project had come about in a peculiar fashion which may as well be explained here and now while Oscar and Ballyhoo impatiently await the coming of Jack.

[17]

To the Jones home in Melancton had come one day a queer old gentleman who turned out to be an uncle of Ballyhoo’s mother. This Abner Crawley had led an adventurous life, though no one would suspect it to look at his mild blue eyes and hear his mellow, jolly laugh.

He had followed the hazardous profession of a deep sea diver, spending years out in Far Eastern seas, diving with the natives for pearl oysters, and in many ways had managed to accumulate quite a nice little fortune.

The stories he spun to Ballyhoo, Oscar and Jack thrilled them with a boyish desire to also see some of the wonders of that same submarine world. Then, as the old man learned how they had already shown a disposition to do and dare, he began to interest them in his latest and greatest scheme.

It seemed he had been induced to take a third interest in a venture that had for its main object the salvage of certain sunken treasure-ships, which were located on a chart. In many cases these ships had gone down scores and scores of years ago, but in comparatively shallow water, so that it seemed feasible to reach them through the agency of an ordinary diving suit; or better still, with the assistance of a modern submarine built for that express purpose.

The boys of course hastened to read Jules Verne’s startling book, “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,” with which they were more or less familiar beforehand. Their[18] enthusiasm grew by leaps and bounds as they started to discuss the possibilities of their being allowed to join this strange expedition.

Jack, aided and abetted by his father, had conceived the idea that as the undersea boat had been constructed particularly with a view to cruising down at the bottom of the sea, and had unusual facilities for allowing those aboard to see all that went on in subterranean depths, it might be possible to secure a remarkable series of motion pictures disclosing undreamed of wonders, the queer creatures that never came to the surface, as well as the amazing forest of giant plants that grew far down in the ever peaceful valleys of the ocean.

In the end it had worked out just as the scheming old master diver had wished. The boys were given an opportunity to accompany the expedition as representatives of Uncle Abner Crawley. They would be given all sorts of chances to use their camera, and at the same time if fortune favored the work of the divers one half of the Crawley third was to be handed over to them.

And such was the final arrangement that had been made. They had proceeded to Baltimore, made the acquaintance of their intended future companions, taken up their limited quarters aboard the well named Argonaut, and Jack was even now paying a parting visit to the post office to get final mails, as well as to the express office for an extra supply of films made especially to resist damage by warm, sticky weather in the tropics.

[19]

“There he comes at last!” Ballyhoo presently announced, as a boy was discovered heading their way, and well laden with bundles.

Jack turned out to be a well-built young chap, with a thoughtful face, and the glow of an enthusiastic artist in his eyes. He soon climbed aboard the strange boat, after which the Captain’s voice was heard giving orders. Then they could feel the quiver that told them the engines were beginning to work; cables were cast off, and a cheer broke from the group on the shore, some of them laboring men belonging to the shipyard, others relatives of those aboard, or it might be stockholders in the venture.

Soon afterwards they had left the city of Baltimore behind them, and were moving smoothly and swiftly down the bay. After that would come the open sea, with its mysterious influences, its terrible storms, dreaded calms, and all surrounded by the halo of romance of long-gone centuries.

The three boys sat there on the miniature upper deck long after the voyage had really begun, saying little, since their hearts naturally enough were heavy because of the fact that they had finally severed the ties that bound them to the loved ones at home.

And so they started down the great Chesapeake Bay, bound for the tropics.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See “The Motion Picture Comrades’ Great Venture.”

[2] See “The Motion Picture Comrades Through African Jungles.”

[20]

CHAPTER II THE FIRST DIP UNDER THE SURFACE

By degrees this feeling of depression passed away. They were healthy boys, and as such could not long remain in the grip of the “blues.” It was all their own doings, too, and they were headed for an experience that certainly no other young fellows had ever been given before.

Soon they were taking an interest in all that went on around them. Oyster boats with the men at work dredging or tonging; duck hunters in blinds, or lying, it might be, in sink-boxes on the shallows with their decoys all around them—things like these were constantly cropping up to be observed through the marine glasses which they had been thoughtful enough to provide themselves with before starting on the voyage.

The afternoon sun was sinking toward the western horizon, and it was figured that by morning they would have arrived close to the ocean at Hampton Roads.

“How fast are we going, do you think, boys?” Ballyhoo was asking, while they continued to sit there and enjoy the bracing air of that late Fall afternoon.

[21]

“That’s hard to decide,” Oscar told him. “I understand that this boat can make about seventeen miles on the surface of the water, providing the sea is fairly calm. We may be doing nearly that right now.”

“And when she sinks down under the sea, what is she capable of doing then?” continued Ballyhoo, always eager for facts.

“Oh! I think it was about eight or nine knots an hour, which would be pretty good, all things considered,” Oscar replied.

“Our quarters are pretty cramped and we’ll be crowded a whole lot,” Jack said in a reflective way, “but we expected that before we came. Your uncle told us, Ballyhoo, we’d likely have to put up with many discomforts, and lack of space would be one of them.”

“What’s the odds so long as we’re happy,” Ballyhoo Jones laughingly declared. “We can be as snug as three bugs in a rug. There are some things a heap worse than being crowded. Sitting up in a bally old tree the livelong night, with a pair of hungry lions prowling around under you is one of them.”

“Yes, you know all about that sort of thing, Ballyhoo,” chuckled Oscar; “also how being almost devoured by cannibal ants feels. But we’re not going to run across anything like that on this trip, I reckon.”

“Oh! give things a chance, boys,” said Ballyhoo, confidently, “and there’ll be adventures a-plenty cropping up to make our hearts jump like[22] mad. This time it may be storms, pirates, a damaged engine while we’re lying at the bottom of the sea so we can’t rise for air, and all that sort of thing.”

“What are you staring so hard at through the glasses, Jack?” asked Oscar, giving little heed to the pleasant prospect thus outlined so cheerfully by Ballyhoo, for he knew very well the other was only joking when he rattled these possible perils off so glibly.

“Why, I was watching that black steam yacht over there a mile or so away from us,” Jack remarked, lowering the marine glasses as he spoke. “I could see a fellow in some sort of uniform holding glasses on us right along. I guess he must be wondering whether we mightn’t prove to be a German submarine that had strayed across the broad Atlantic, like they threaten to do some of these fine days, to sink British munition steamships close to our shores, rather than wait for them to get over into the waters they’ve marked as the war zone.”

“I tell you what I think,” he observed a minute afterwards, “that same black steam yacht may be our rival, the Dauntless, and the man who is watching us all the while would then be that rollicking old world-wide adventurer, Captain Badger, who has sailed the Seven Seas from boyhood, been everything from blockade-runner to naval officer, and perhaps a little of a pirate on the sly besides.”

“Whew! do you really think so, Oscar?” cried[23] Ballyhoo; “please let me have a peek at him then. I’ve heard so much about the old reprobate I’d love to say I’d actually set eyes on his phiz, even at a mile away.”

“We may see a little more of him than we want, before we’re done with this job,” Oscar told him, with the air of a prophet, but Ballyhoo only laughed, for he was not the one to cross any bridge before he came to it.

Just then Captain Barnaby Shooks, the man who had been placed in full charge of the treasure-hunting expedition by the incorporated company, came up the ladder from the conning-tower of the submarine boat. He was a grizzled old sea dog, who had seen much of life on many waters, and was well qualified to manage just such a strange mission as the one that had been placed in his hands.

He too carried a glass which he quickly focussed on the black steam yacht that was evidently capable of making much faster time than the low Argonaut, often almost awash.

“We’ve about made up our minds, Captain,” remarked Ballyhoo, who had struck up quite an intimate acquaintance with the commander, after his frank, confiding fashion, “that yonder vessel might be the Dauntless, our rival in the salvage trade. Were we right about that, sir?”

“It’s the Dauntless, sure enough,” the captain told them, “and they’re holding in as if they’d like to shadow us all the way down to where we’re going.”

[24]

“Oh! could they do that?” demanded Ballyhoo, in dismay.

“Well, if you’ve ever tried to clap your finger on a flea,” laughed the old mariner, “you’d know what it means to keep tabs on a boat that can duck under the surface of the sea, and stay there for ten hours, moving all the while.”

Captain Barnaby Shooks somehow did not seem to talk as most sea captains do in stories. He never once said “shiver my timbers” or used any similar phrase that was calculated to stamp him as a nautical man. Perhaps this arose from the fact that many years had elapsed since last he trod the deck of a genuine sailing vessel. With the gradual disappearance of the full-rigged ships, the brigs, and the barques, all that peculiar language is going out of date. Mechanics have taken the places of the old-time sailors accustomed to clambering up the shrouds, and standing on the yards of a ship reeling in an eighty mile gale.

When later on, after the sun had set, the boys prepared to go down below for supper, that black steam yacht was still on their lee quarter, and apparently bound to keep within sighting distance.

“Goodness gracious!” Ballyhoo was remarking the last thing before he crept down the steep little ladder leading into the conning tower, from which place they could reach the lower parts of the queer vessel, “I only hope they don’t mean to ram us in the night-time, and so get rid of a dangerous rival.”

“Not much danger of that,” Oscar assured him.[25] “Captain Shooks will keep a faithful watch every minute of the time. And besides, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that those fellows don’t know all we do about the location of sunken treasure, also that their plan is to spy on us, and then steal our thunder.”

They did not go on deck again after partaking of the evening meal in the little saloon devoted to cabin purposes, in which, as Ballyhoo said, was not room to “whirl a cat around by the tail.” The night air was cold, and the blackness would prevent them from seeing anything worth while.

None of them secured much sleep during that first night. Everything was against it, for their quarters were terribly cramped, and the air anything but fresh, even though the boat continued to remain upon the surface of the water all through the night.

“Whee! just imagine what it’s going to be when we’re down under the surface of the sea,” said Ballyhoo, at one time, as they prepared to lie down in their bunks, placed above each other in a tier.

“Oh! you can get used to most anything in time,” Jack assured him, “if only you make up your mind that way. Always think of something that’s a whole lot worse, and it’s wonderful how satisfied you soon feel.”

The boat rolled somewhat later on in the night, and Oscar, being awake, made up his mind that no doubt they were coming closer to the wide mouth of the great bay, so that they now encountered[26] the long inward sweep of the ocean’s heaving billows.

Sure enough, when, after awakening to find that it was morning, for light came in through the heavy glass observation bull’s-eyes arranged in numerous places, the boys upon reaching the deck again discovered that they could look far out to sea, as the submarine had already passed Fortress Monroe and was now awaiting the coming of a cutter from a black destroyer carrying the U. S. flag, that had shot out to overtake them.

An officer came aboard, and was shown down into the captain’s diminutive cabin, where no doubt he looked over the ship’s papers, asked many questions concerning the proposed voyage, which must have interested him considerably, and finally said “good-bye and good luck” to the smiling skipper.

Then the engines once more began to throb, and the boat to quiver with the energy they displayed. The boys, looking back toward the beautiful shores they were leaving, again had their thoughts turn toward the folks at home. But the summons to breakfast dissipated all such sad reflections; and when an hour later they again came on deck the shore was dim and hazy in the distance.

Evidently they were now well started on their interesting voyage. What the outcome was going to be could only be guessed at; but hope ran high in all their hearts.

“There’s our friend, the enemy, just as we expected would be the case!” cried Ballyhoo Jones[27] as he pointed to a dim spot several miles off, and which seemed to be some sort of black boat, also bound south.

“I’m looking at something else, though,” remarked Oscar. “That bank of clouds lying low along the horizon in the south seems to have a storm hidden in it. And we are heading straight that way in the bargain.”

“Oh! perhaps it’s only a little squall, such as they often meet in these waters,” Jack was saying. “The West Indian hurricane season is pretty well over by now, you know, or else the expedition wouldn’t have started when it did.”

“But even a little storm would send the waves clean over this low boat,” suggested Ballyhoo. “I’m not a born sailor, and I don’t want to seem bothered when there’s no danger, but you can see how we wallow at times right now, when we run smack up against one of those long swells.”