The Mark on the Door (13 page)

“You're too troublesome to be kept here! I shall have you all sent to a place from which you will never escape!” he growled. “You're going to take an undersea voyage!”

The boys were marched off with several guards prodding them along with rifles. Soon they were walking down a steep slope close to the narrow-gauge railroad the Indian workers had built. Frank and Joe noticed that the track now extended well beyond the point where they had stopped the speeding rail car.

“Hm! They've finished the project,” Joe commented.

“Yes,” Frank agreed. “We wondered where it went. I guess we're about to find out.”

“You no talkl” shouted one of the guards.

Finally they came to a cove on the east coast of the Baja Peninsula. The Hardys noticed that the track continued to the water's edge. Nearby a group of Indian workers was seated on the ground as if waiting for something.

The boys' captors ordered them to sit down. Two guards were posted to watch them.

It was almost sunset when the Hardys and their friends were startled to see a submarine come to the surface out at sea. It slowly made its way into the cove.

“I can see the symbol on the conning tower,” Joe said in a hushed voice.

“It must be the same sub we spotted in the cove in Sinaloa,” Frank added.

At that instant there came a rumbling sound. The boys looked to see several of the odd-looking rail cars come rolling down the track. Each of them carried a sausage-shaped object measuring about one hundred feet long.

“They must be the rubber-coated nylon containers we found in the other cave!” Joe whispered to his brother.

Frank suddenly sat bolt upright. “Say! Do you remember the scrap of paper we found in Vincenzo's hideout?”

“Yes, I have it right here.” Joe pulled a fragment of paper from his pocket. They again looked at the printed words which read:

“The word draco must be
dracone!”
Frank declared.

Joe's eyes widened. “You're right! That must be it! I recall your showing me an article about dracones several months ago. They're rubber-coated nylon containers designed to carry oil. A whole train of them can be towed behind a ship!”

“Except in this case, they're being towed by a submarine!”

“So that's what Vincenzo is up to. He must be smuggling oil out of the country,” Joe surmised. “But where is he getting it from?”

Frank thought for a moment. “My guess is that he got his hands on an oil well. He's keeping it a secret to prevent the Mexican government from taking over control.”

Chet was wide-eyed. “Vincenzo wants it all for himself! So he's selling oil to whoever will pay his price!”

The boys watched as the Indian workers began attaching triangular-shaped metal plates to the front and rear sections of the containers. The devices looked similar to the diving planes of a submarine.

“Very clever,” Frank whispered. “Those gadgets are used to keep the dracones under water when the sub is submerged.”

The Indians eased each of the containers into the water and linked them together by means of a special cable. The long train looked like a huge floating sea serpent.

The boys were now ordered to walk toward the submarine, which had tied up at the shore of the cove. Then they were forced to get aboard.

“Lock ‘em in the aft cabin!” shouted a bearded crew member.

After climbing down through a hatch, the Hardys and their friends were led along a narrow passageway, then ordered into a small compartment. The door was slammed behind them and locked. A guard was posted outside.

“Where could they be taking us?” Chet asked worriedly.

“We'll soon learn if we don't figure out some way to escape!” Joe declared.

“Let's think fast!” Frank urged.

Suddenly the boys felt a vibration and heard the rumbling sound of the craft's diesel engines.

“It is too late to do anything now!” Tico cried.

A feeling of panic gripped the four boys as the sub got underway. Where were they going? And what was in store for them when they arrived?

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BOYS searched frantically for an answer to their dilemma.

“We must escape before the sub gets too far out to sea!” Frank declared.

Just then they heard the muffled voices of two men talking outside the cabin door.

“The boss wants you to stay here on guard,” a man said. “I don't know why he picked you. You're always falling asleep.”

“What's the difference?” the guard snapped. “Those kids are locked in. And even if they got out, where can they go aboard a sub?”

“Keep awake just the same,” the other man warned.

Then silence. The boys waited and listened. Less than an hour had passed when they detected the sound of snoring.

“He's asleep,” Joe whispered. “Here's our chance.”

“But the door's locked,” Chet said in a hushed voice. “We can't break it down—every crewman on this tub would hear us.”

Frank glanced around. “We won't have to,” he answered. “Our captors forgot one thing. The door hinges are on our side. All we have to do is force the pins out!”

Frank took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the base of the hinge pin to reduce noise. Then he removed one shoe, and using the heel as a hammer, began to tap away lightly. Joe went to work on the second hinge.

The job was slow and demanded all the patience the Hardys could muster. Finally the pins were loose enough to be pulled free of the hinges.

Cautiously the boys eased the door aside. Outside they saw a grubby-looking man in a sailor's cap and jacket propped up against a bulkhead. He was sound asleep.

The boys pounced on him at once, and before the surprised guard could utter a sound, he was gagged, then bound, and dragged into the cabin.

“Set the door back in place,” Frank whispered to Chet and Tico, “in case any of the crewmen come along.”

“What's our next move?” Chet asked.

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Somehow we must force the crew to turn around and go back to Baja.”

“Maybe we can disable the sub,” Joe suggested.

“Leaping lizards!” Chet exclaimed. “Don't do anything to sink us!”

“If only we could put the electric motors out of commission,” Frank remarked.

Tico looked at the Hardys with a quizzical expression. “How could we then return to Baja without power?”

“Submarines have two sources of propulsion,” Joe explained. “Diesel engines are used when traveling on the surface, and battery-operated motors when under water.”

“If we could sabotage the batteries somehow,” Frank said, “I'm sure the crew would turn back. They wouldn't risk going on without being able to submerge.”

Joe glanced down at their prisoner. “I have an idea!” he declared. “The guard is about my size. I'll put on his jacket and cap and try to work my way aft. None of the crew expects to see any of us outside the cabin. I might just get away with ruining the electric motors.”

“It's worth a try!” Frank agreed. “But we've got to work fast. Somebody might check on the guard.”

Quickly donning the man's jacket, Joe stepped out into the passageway. He pulled the cap low on his forehead and cautiously moved toward the rear of the submarine. There was not a single crewman in sight. As he edged his way along, the humming sound of the craft's diesel engines gradually grew louder. Then the young detective spotted a compartment door directly ahead. It was partially open.

“That must lead to the engine room,” he thought.

He crept closer to the door and peered through the crack. There he saw a single crewman checking gauges and making control adjustments.

Realizing he had to act instantly, Joe leaped in through the doorway. The startled crewman whirled and hurled a wrench at him. Joe ducked, then sprang toward his opponent. He caught the man with a sharp uppercut that sent him crashing to the floor and left him unconscious.

“Now, to put the motor batteries out of commission!” Joe thought.

He glanced about until he spotted a drum of lubricating oil. Joe shoved it close to the long row of batteries that operated the sub's electric motors. After quickly removing the caps which covered the battery cells, he pushed the drum over on top of them. Oil gushed into the batteries, and soon a thick, acrid smoke began to billow up.

At the same instant Frank, Chet, and Tico were confronted by a crewman who had been sent to check on the guard. But before he could warn his cohorts, the fellow was seized. In the brief struggle which followed, Frank kayoed him.

“Let's get out of herel” Frank whispered to Chet and Tico. “Head aftl”

They raced down the narrow passageway. The three had not gone far when they saw Joe coming to meet them.

“Go the other way!” he warned. “The engine room will be swarming with men in a minute!”

Already the smoke from the oil-soaked batteries was beginning to cause a commotion aboard the sub. The frantic shouts of crewmen could be heard echoing through the passageway.

“We must find some place to hide!” Joe declared.

Frank pointed to a compartment door just ahead of them. “That's the forward torpedo room,” he said. “Quick! Inside!”

The boys dashed into the small room and eased the door shut behind them. Seconds later they heard crewmen scurrying through the passageway outside.

“The captain wants everybody to report to the engine room!” a man shouted. “Make it snappy!”

Joe clutched his brother's arm. “Do you feel a change in the sub's motion?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes!” Frank replied excitedly. “They're turning around. We must be going back to Baja!”

“Leaping sailfish!” Chet blurted. “Your plan worked!”

Tico creased his brow. “That is good,” he agreed. “But we are still prisoners. How do we escape from here?”

At that instant the boys again heard shouts from the crewmen.

“The kids broke out of the cabin!” one of them yelled. “They're still aboard somewhere. Start searching every inch of this sub. Begin aft and work forward.”

The boys grew tense as the crewmen began their hunt through the various compartments. Gradually the men drew closer to the youths' hiding place.

“After you guys check the cabins, take a look in the forward torpedo room,” someone ordered.

“We're trapped!” Chet muttered nervously.

Joe glanced around. “Wait a minute! There might be a way out of here!”

Frank immediately sensed what his brother had in mind. “You don't mean the torpedo tubes?”

“Why not?” Joe insisted. “By now we can't be too far from shore. I'll fire you fellows out through the tubes. I understand there's nothing to it.”

“But it means leaving you behind,” Frank retorted. “Nothing doing!”

“Don't worry about me,” Joe replied. “I'm sure I can get away.”

“How?”

Their discussion was suddenly interrupted by sounds of the crewmen getting closer.

“No time to explain now,” Joe said. “This is our only chance. Hurry! Get into the tubes!”

Reluctantly Frank, Tico, and Chet selected one of the four torpedo tubes and climbed inside. Joe slammed the hatches shut behind them, grabbed the release lever, and fired. There was a loud whoosh of compressed air.

“What was that?” came the voice of a crewman from the passageway outside.

Joe flattened himself against the bulkhead adjacent to the compartment door. A split second later it was flung open and three crewmen rushed past the youth and into the torpedo room. Joe dashed out into the passageway unseen. He adjusted the cap and jacket and made his way amidships.

“Take it easy!” he mumbled to himself. “Don't look conspicuous!”

Joe located the control room, then climbed a narrow ladder leading up to the conning tower. Several crewmen saw him, but in the confusion, they obviously thought he was one of their group.

“The kids have escaped!” came a voice from below.

All the deck hatches had been opened to help clear the air inside the sub. Joe climbed out, jumped from the conning tower onto the deck, and dived into the water. The craft glided on in the darkness, with the dracones slithering past like giant sausages.

Joe swam quickly toward the shore, which was silhouetted darkly against the night sky. It was not long before he sloshed out of the water onto the pebbly beach.