Twenty Fathoms Down by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action & Adventure
Publisher: Galaxy Press
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Crash Dive!

IT was not the condition of the rusty tramp steamer that attracted Hawk’s attention, for he had seen thousands of ships like her, and he was not puzzled by the appearance of the Santo Dominican flag which flew at the truck. It was the sight of a steel bulk jutting up beyond the ship’s rail which gave him a sudden inspiration. The shape of it was familiar, for the same thing had appeared the night of the attack upon the Stingaree.

His toes were just going off the deck when he spoke.

“Listen, Chuck. You win. I’ve got a proposition to offer you.”

“Sure,” Chuck said. “I knew you’d see light. You’re yellow, Ridley. I knew it all along.”

Hawk let the insult pass, for there was more urgent business at hand. “I’ll not only tell you where that chest is, I’ll go down and bring it out myself. And if you want to let me go free after that, it’s your business.”

“Now you’re talking!” Chuck jerked his thumb at the halyard and his men loosened it and slipped it off Hawk’s fingers.

“There,” said Hawk, limbering up his arms and rubbing his hands. “I see you’ve got a tin fish over there at the rail. New addition to your firm, isn’t it?”

Chuck said nothing to Hawk, but called up toward the superstructure, where a white head appeared in answer.

“Break out your crew!” Chuck called. “Is everything set aboard the sub?”

“Yes, sir!” said the man on the bridge.

Hawk strolled over to the rail and looked down. Below, half out of the water, was a small submarine. Hawk had seen the type before. In fact, he had aided in the salvaging of a submarine a few years before. The only difference or change he could see in the hull was a built-on compartment forward—undoubtedly a compression chamber. He didn’t wonder at Mercer’s possessing such a boat, for hundreds of them had been bought by salvage firms, solely for the lead contained in the storage batteries. The recommissioning of a submarine would be a comparatively simple matter.

The discovery of the undersea craft explained many things. Hawk understood now why no ship had been sighted when he heard the beat of a propeller. And he understood how the legend had been written on the side of the Stingaree. As for Stokey’s death, the submarine had probably hovered over him while a diver on its deck injected poisonous gas into the airline.

Three white men and seventeen natives dropped over the side of the tramp steamer to the deck of the submarine and swarmed down through the conning tower hatch. When they had disappeared, Hawk was ordered down, the muzzle of Chuck Mercer’s gun at his back.

“Mind you,” Chuck rasped, as he watched Hawk go through the hatch, “no funny business, or you’ll wish you’d never been born. A lot of things can happen on a submarine.”

“So long,” Hawk called. “I’ll see you anon!”

When the submarine had cast off from the steamer, Hawk paused in the conning

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