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CHAPTER XVII
THE SPRINGING THEREOF

The rude hut, which, judging by its odor and condition, was used as an occasional shelter for the bay fishermen, was full of talk and smoke. Herc could not catch much meaning from the confused babel of tongues, but judged from the intelligible snatches he could seize upon, that it related to himself and Ned.

He was hardly surprised to recognize, among the occupants of the place, Chance and Merritt, as well as Herr Muller. There were four or five other men, including the one who had led him into the trap.

Herc's keen eyes also noticed one peculiarity about each of the men about him. Every one of them wore in his buttonhole a tiny strip of bright red ribbon. What its significance might be, he had no way of telling, of course, but it impressed him.

"Well," said Herr Muller at last, his voice rising masterfully above those of the rest, "we had better be getting on board. The tide is on the turn, and we have much to do. Besides, they may pursue us from the town."

"No chance of that, comrade," rejoined the man who had conducted Herc from Bartonville. "I got the lad away without any one noticing our departure."

"Just the same, both those Dreadnought Boys are tricky as cats," snarled Merritt. "My advice is to get away at once."

A general bustle followed. Herc was lifted bodily, and carried down a narrow plank gangway leading to the sloop. Once on board, he was half-thrown, half-pushed, into a stuffy cabin, and the door above him closed with a sharp bang. He heard a metallic clang, as the bolts and lock, which evidently held it, were closed.

"Wow!" exclaimed the Dreadnought Boy. "If this isn't what old Ben Franklin would call 'the logical limit of the uttermost.'"

The cabin was almost dark, being lighted only by two dirty and very small port holes. It was, moreover, stuffy and malodorous. Herc tried to get on his feet, but, being bound hand and foot, he was compelled to lie as he had fallen at the foot of the stairs. On deck he could hear the trampling of feet, and before long the motion of the sloop told him that she was under way.

"Going to sea, I guess," mused Herc. "I wonder what they mean to do with me?"

He was left to speculate on this topic for some time. The motion of a choppy sea was already manifest when a man descended into the cabin with some bread and some cold meat. He also had a stone jug presumably containing water.

"Here you are," he said, thrusting it in front of Herc. "You'd better eat while you get a chance."

"I can't do that very well while I'm all trussed up like a roasting chicken," objected Herc.

"That's so," assented the man. "Well, I guess there's no harm in setting you loose for a while. We've cleared the bay, and the only place you can go to if you want to get away is overboard."

So saying, he loosened Herc's bonds, to the immense satisfaction of the freckle-faced boy.

The man seemed to be a shade less rough than his companions, so Herc ventured to ask him a question.

"What is the occasion for all this?" he inquired in a half-humorous tone.

"Now, don't ask questions, and you won't hear untruths," said the man.

With this, he hastened out of the cabin, carefully relocking the companionway door on the outside.

"Wow!" exclaimed Herc, giving vent to his favorite exclamation. Then he fell to eating with a will.

The meal, coarse as it was, revived his spirits. It was only when he came to taste the water that he put it down with a wry face. It was bitter, and had a nauseating flavor.

"I'm not certain," mused Herc, "but nevertheless, I'm pretty sure that some sort of drug has been placed in that stuff. Too bad. I'm thirsty enough to drink it all, too."

The motion of the sloop was quite lively now. It was evident that they were some distance out at sea. Occasionally, too, a green wave, washing over one of the port-holes, partially obscured what little light there was.

"Guess I might as well explore the place and see what sort of a craft this is," said Herc, as inactivity grew irksome. He started up from the locker on which he had been sitting, and made toward a door at the stern of the cabin.

It was not locked, and the lad threw it open without effort. What was his astonishment to see, stretched on a bunk, apparently in deep slumber, the form of his missing comrade.

"Ned! Ned!" exclaimed Herc, springing forward.

Usually Ned, as sailors say, "slept with one eye open." This was a quality he shared with most seamen.

Herc was heartily astonished, therefore, to find that his shipmate did not respond at once to his vigorous shakings and shoutings. At length however, he bestirred himself, and yawned, moving in an inert fashion, much unlike his usual movements, which were full of activity and life.

"Oh-ho! Hi-hum!" he yawned, gaping broadly, and gazing about him. "What's up, watch turning out?"

"Wish it was, and that we were safe back on the old Manhattan," muttered Herc.

"No, my hearty," he went on, "the watch isn't being turned out; but it's time you woke up, just the same. It's my opinion that you've been drugged with some of that stuff they tried to give me."

After renewed efforts, Herc finally succeeded in getting Ned broad awake. But it was some minutes before his befogged brain took in the situation. As Herc had suspected, he had been drugged by some substance placed in a drink of water he had asked for.

Ned, once restored to himself, speedily explained how it was the sight of Kennell passing the hotel that had caused him to make his hasty exit, and indirectly bring about the present situation.

He had followed Kennell through the outskirts of the town, he said, wishing to find out where he was going. He succeeded in this beyond his hopes, but Kennell, it appeared subsequently, had been aware that Ned was following him, from the moment the Dreadnought Boy had left the hotel. Cunningly he had led him right up to the lone fisher hut, and Ned's capture had been swift and easy for the nefarious band.

Herc's story followed.

"There's something mysterious about the band," he said. "Take that bit of ribbon they wear, for instance – what is it? What does it signify?"

"I heard enough of their talk before I drank the drugged water to apprise me of that," said Ned. "These fellows are a bunch of desperate anarchists. They are acting, as far as I can make out, in the interests of some European power, and mean to do all the harm they can to Uncle Sam's navy."

"The despicable scoundrels!" gasped Herc. "But how did Chance and Merritt come to join them?"

"Money, I suppose. They seem to be well supplied. I guess Chance and Merritt are being well paid for the information they can impart to the rascals concerning the secrets of our naval organization."

"Do you think it is possible they could be such traitors?"

"Anything is possible where they are concerned. By the way, Herc, this is no ordinary sloop we are on. In the first place, it is the same craft as that from which I was fired on at the time Midshipman Shrike fell from the aeroplane."

Herc nodded.

"Now I know why that red stripe seemed so familiar," he said.

"Moreover," resumed Ned, "she is fitted with wireless."

"With wireless!"

"Yes. The instruments are in another cabin forward of this one. I noticed the aerial wires on her mast, too, as I was brought on board. Muller ordered them hauled down, but not before I had seen them."

"What does she want with a wireless apparatus?"

"I can't imagine, unless it is to catch the messages that the ships of the navy are sending concerning plans, and so on."

"But they are in cipher."

"Yes, but there are two men on board who know that cipher – Chance and Merritt. That fact alone explains their value to the anarchists."

"Humph! That's so," agreed Herc. "But what's the matter with our looking about a bit more? We might discover something else."

"All right. My head still aches a little, but otherwise I'm well enough," responded Ned. "I guess we are safe from interruption for a time. The wind seems to be freshening, and the men will all be busy on deck. I reckon they think we are both drugged, too, and are safe not to awaken for some time."

"Wow! I'm glad I didn't drink that water, or there would be more truth than poetry in that," said Herc.

"I guess they gave me a light dose, for I didn't taste it," said Ned.

"Good thing they did, or I couldn't have roused you so easily."

The two boys cautiously set about exploring the cabin. It was a bare little place, and did not contain much subject matter for investigation. There was a door forward leading to the wireless room, but it was locked. Ned listened at the keyhole, but the instruments were silent.

"Hullo!" said Herc, suddenly halting and pointing downward at the cabin floor. "What's under here, I wonder?"

There was a ring at his feet. Ned lost no time in laying hold of it. He gave it a sharp tug, and it came up easily, bringing with it a section of flooring to which it had been attached.

It revealed a dark, yawning space under the cabin floor, into which both boys peered eagerly.

"There's something in there, but I can't make out what," said Ned presently. "Wait a jiffy, till I strike a match."

A lucifer was soon lighted, and Ned, bending over, held it inside the hole in the cabin floor. He recoiled with a jump and a suppressed cry, as if he had suddenly discovered a nest of rattlesnakes.

"What's up?" demanded Herc, who had been able to detect nothing but a metallic glitter, like that of steel.

"Torpedoes!" gasped Ned; "six Whiteheads! enough to destroy all the finest and newest vessels of Uncle Sam's navy."

CHAPTER XVIII
ON BOARD THE SLOOP

They had no further opportunity, just then, to comment on their discovery. For, just as Ned voiced it, somebody could be heard fumbling with the lock on the companionway door. It was the work of an instant for Herc to replace the removable section of the flooring while Ned slid silently and swiftly back into the cabin he had vacated.

Herc had just time to resume his seat on the locker, together with a vacant expression of countenance, when the door was flung open. It admitted a gust of fresh, crisp air and a shower of spray.

"Wish I was up on deck inhaling some of that," commented Herc to himself, as he turned his head to see who the newcomer might be.

It proved to be Herr Muller. He came down the steps slowly, glancing about him sharply as he came. He seemed somewhat surprised as his eyes lit on Herc perched up on his locker.

"Ah, ha! awake!" he exclaimed.

"You hadn't any reason to suppose I'd be asleep, had you?" inquired Herc blandly.

"No. You boys are too wide-awake altogether. That is why we have taken you off on this cruise," chuckled the anarchist grimly.

"Very considerate of you, I'm sure," rejoined Herc. "And this – this cruise, I presume, it isn't for our health?"

"Hardly," rejoined the other, with a smile; "I mean to make you useful to us and – to the cause!"

His eyes glittered as he spoke. The glare of a fanatic filled them.

"How is your comrade?" he asked the next instant.

Herc saw the trap instantly. Muller had thought to trap him into answering without thought. Had he done so, the crafty anarchist would have known that the boys had been talking together. So Herc assumed his most unworldly expression.

"What, is Ned on board?" he exclaimed.

"You didn't know it?"

"Not I. You are clever fellows to have trapped both of us."

Herr Muller looked at the lad sharply. He did not know what to make of this careless, debonair manner.

"Well, as you observed," he said at length, "we have trapped you."

"But what for? What do you want with little us?" grinned Herc.

"You are making fun of me, Mister Yankee."

"Not any more fun than you make of yourself," parried Herc quickly.

Herr Muller looked more puzzled than ever. Then he frowned suddenly. "You do not seem to realize the seriousness of your position," he said.

"Not I. Oh, I'm a care-free sail-o-r-r-r-r oh!" sang Herc. "How do you like my singing?" he inquired.

"Not very much," replied the other, looking at him with the same puzzled expression. Herr Muller couldn't make out whether Herc was crazy or simply light-headed.

"Sorry you don't like it," rejoined Herc; "when I sing in big cities it brings crowds. Sometimes it brings the police."

"I don't wonder. But I did not come down here to talk nonsense. Where is your companion?"

"I told you before I didn't know," rejoined Herc, seemingly with all the carelessness in the world. For the second time the crafty foreign anarchist had failed to trap Herc into an admission that he and Ned had met.

"I'll go and get him," said Herr Muller, starting for the cabin.

"I wish you'd bring me a glass of water," said Herc.

"There is water in that stone jug," said Herr Muller, indicating the drugged receptacle.

"Oh, I drank all that a long time ago," rejoined Herc, "I'm very fond of water."

For a reason we know of, Herr Muller looked surprised.

"You drank all that water!" he exclaimed.

"Sure," rejoined Herc.

"Our water supply has run rather low," said Herr Muller, watching the Dreadnought Boy narrowly, "did you notice anything peculiar about that water?"

"Ah, now you come to speak of it, I did notice a peculiar taste to it," said Herc, restraining a desire to chuckle at the other's amazement, "a sort of bitter flavor. Is it that which you refer to?"

"Perhaps. But – but didn't it make you sleepy?" queried the other, his curiosity overcoming his discretion.

"Never felt more wide awake in my life," responded Herc, "I could sing this instant. I – "

But Herr Muller had fled into Ned's cabin. He found the boy apparently just wakening from a sound slumber, although Ned had enjoyed every word of Herc's foolish banter.

"Ah, so you are awake at last, Mister Sailor," said Herr Muller; "may I trouble you to come into the other cabin? I have business of importance to discuss."

"I beg your pardon," said Ned shortly.

"What do you mean?"

"Just this: that I have no business to discuss with a scoundrel."

The reply was like the crack of a whip. The other grew livid.

"Be careful how you speak," he said, striving to retain control of himself, "I am not accustomed to being made game of by whipper-snappers."

"Well, what do you want?" asked Ned, feeling that, after all, he might learn something by pretending to fall in with the rascal's plans, whatever they might prove to be.

"Then you are willing to talk business with us?"

"That depends," rejoined Ned, "on whether it's profitable business. But I warn you," he went on, raising his voice, "my comrade and I want to be paid in full and well, too, for anything we do."

Herc in the outer cabin heard the heightened tones.

"What's Ned up to now?" he wondered to himself, "I'll bet he's hit on some plan. I guess that whatever he says I'll follow his lead. I don't like playing at being a traitor, though, just the same."

Herr Muller and Ned now emerged into the outer cabin.

"Sit down," said the anarchist, pointing to a place beside Herc. Both boys instantly simulated great delight and surprise at seeing each other. Herr Muller looked on somewhat glumly.

"I wonder if they are making fools of me," he thought. "They are both sharp as steel traps, as they say in this country. It is possible. Well, I shall govern myself accordingly and watch them closely."

"Well," said Ned, when the first apparently warm greetings were over, "what is it you want us to do?"

"Just this," said Herr Muller, "you are a good mechanic and a fair draughtsman. I want you to draw me a sectional design of the Manhattan. When that is done I've got other work for you to do."

"A design of the Manhattan?" repeated Ned slowly as if he had not quite understood. He was in reality trying to gain time to think.

"Yes. You are familiar with her, and I believe she is the finest ship of your navy."

"I can say 'yes,' to both questions," rejoined Ned. "What would you want this drawing to show?"

"For one thing, I should like to know where her armor is thinnest," was the rejoinder.

Herr Muller's eyes narrowed as he spoke, and he gazed sharply at the lad before him.

"You understand?" he asked, as Ned did not reply.

"Perfectly. I was just trying to collect my thoughts. So you want a sectional plan of the Manhattan, showing where her armor is thinnest," he said slowly. "Well, supposing I make one, what is there in it for me?"

"That depends on the success of the grand project," was the rejoinder.

Ned looked puzzled. Into the anarchist's eyes there had come the same glare of fanatical fire that Herc had noted there before.

"What is this grand project, if I may ask?" he said presently.

"You may ask," was the reply, "but I shall not answer. The accomplishment itself shall be your reply – and the world's."

The man had risen to his feet and was pacing up and down the cabin excitedly. Suddenly he turned sharply.

"I shall ask for your reply in half an hour," he said abruptly, and plunged, rather than mounted, up the cabin stairs.

Ned sat lost in thought after his departure. After a long period of speechlessness, Herc spoke.

"What are you thinking about, Ned?" he asked.

"I'm trying to put two and two together," said Ned softly. "If I'm right in my conclusions, this fellow Muller is one of the most diabolical scoundrels that ever encumbered the face of the earth."

CHAPTER XIX
"BY WIRELESS!"

"Ye-es," drawled Herc judicially, "even without putting two and two together, I must say that I agree with you. But what particular brand of mischief is he up to now, do you think?"

"Well, in the first place, he doesn't want the plans of the Manhattan just because of his interest in naval architecture."

"No, hardly. But it gets me what he does want them for."

"I've formed a pretty definite idea," rejoined Ned. "It was those torpedoes that set me thinking. Herc, I believe that a gigantic plot to injure the American navy is on foot. Those torpedoes are aboard to be used in pursuance of that purpose."

"Jiminy crickets!" yelled Herc, fairly brought to his feet; "and you talk about it as calmly as if you were asking me to come and have an ice-cream soda. By the same token, if I don't get something to drink pretty soon I'll dry up and wither away."

"We've got to keep calm," rejoined Ned. "Getting excited won't do any good. Look here, Herc, have you anything in the shape of a wrench about you?"

"I've got that small one I use on the motor of my aeroplane."

"Not any too big," commented Ned. "But it'll have to do. Now, Herc, you watch the stairway while I get busy."

"If any one comes down, shall I tackle them?" asked the freckle-faced youth, who was always ready for a rough-and-tumble.

"Good gracious, no! To arouse their suspicions that we are anything but friendly to them would never do. Just tell me if you hear any one fumbling with the door."

"All right," said Herc, taking up his position at the foot of the stairway.

Ned at once yanked up the section of flooring operated by the ring. By dint of wriggling and twisting, he managed to work himself down into the compartment containing the deadly implements. Then he set to work with his wrench.

The task kept him busy for half an hour or more. When he finally emerged from his cramped quarters into the cabin, he carried something very carefully wrapped in his handkerchief. Whatever it was, he threw it out of the cabin port and breathed a sigh of relief when he had done so. Two more trips were necessary before the flooring was replaced, and each time Ned threw something out.

Herc was about to ask his comrade what he was doing, when the preliminary fumbling at the bolts above warned him that they were about to have a visitor.

Instantly both lads resumed the same positions they had occupied when Herr Muller left the cabin. They had just time to assume them when the man himself opened the companionway doorway and descended.

"Well, have you made up your minds?" he began, without any preliminaries.

"We have," replied Ned. "I'll do as you wish in regard to the plan of the battleship. But you haven't mentioned anything about compensation as yet."

"It will be large. You have my word for that. Isn't that enough?"

Ned, inwardly thinking that it certainly wasn't, agreed that it was.

"I'll get you pencils and paper, and you can set to work right away," said Herr Muller.

But just as he spoke there came a loud crash on deck, and a series of alarmed shouts. Herr Muller turned and sprang quickly back up the stairway. The boys, feeling certain that some calamity had occurred, followed him.

As they gained the deck they were astonished to find that the sloop was out of sight of land. A desolate expanse of gray, tumbling billows was stretched about her. But their glances only dwelt on this for an instant. Their immediate attention was caught by a group in the stern, bending over a prostrate figure.

"It's Chance!" exclaimed Ned, hastening aft, followed by Herc.

"A block tore loose from above and struck him on the head," one of the followers of Herr Muller was explaining as the boys came up.

The leader of the strange band bent over the unconscious man and felt his head with a manner that betokened some medical skill.

"It is only a flesh wound," he said, "but the shock has made him unconscious. Carry him below, some of you. He'll soon be all right again."

Kennell was one of those who volunteered for this service. Merritt was another. As they passed the two boys, carrying their limp burden, Kennell turned to Ned:

"Well, my young sneak, they've got you collared this time," he said with a leer, "you walked into the trap like a baby taking candy."

Ned did not deign to reply to the fellow. Instead, he listened to Herr Muller who was talking excitedly.

"Of all unlucky things to happen at this time," he was saying. "We shall be within the wireless zone of the fleet at any time now, and the only man on board who understands wireless is incapacitated. It is most unfortunate."

A sudden idea came to Ned. Possibly by volunteering to act in Chance's place he might find a way out of the maze that involved them.

Acting on his impulse he stepped up to Muller.

"I understand wireless," he said; "what messages do you want taken?"

"I don't know yet," rejoined Herr Muller, looking much relieved. Then suddenly his manner changed.

"But you understand the naval code, too, don't you?"

The manner in which the question was worded put Ned on his guard. He saw that it would be better to reply in the negative.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I haven't had much to do with the signal part of man-o'-war work; but, of course, I learned something of wireless at the naval school."

"Good!" exclaimed Herr Muller; "come with me."

He ushered the boys below – for Herc had trailed along – and into the small wireless room Ned had noticed.

"I am expecting a message at any time now," he said; "but it will come in cipher. Get it absolutely accurate and you will not suffer by it."

Ned nodded.

"Better see about hoisting your aerials," he said.

Herr Muller hurried off on this errand, while Ned looked over the instruments surrounding him. They glistened with brass and polished steel in the smoky light of a bulkhead lamp. But despite the evident haste with which they had been installed, it was easy to see that the apparatus was the finest obtainable.

"What on earth can be up now?" wondered Herc, as Ned took up the metal headpiece and adjusted it.

"Don't know yet," said Ned. "It's evident, though, that Muller is in hopes of picking up some information from the fleet by eavesdropping on its wireless. I'm mighty glad now that I didn't tell him I could read cipher."

Further conversation was interrupted by the re-entrance of Herr Muller. He stepped brusquely up to Ned.

"You had better be ready to catch anything you can," he said; "everything is in readiness above, and we should be picking up messages at any moment now."

Ned nodded and sat down on the stool set over against the table, on which the glittering array of instruments were fastened.

For a long time – or so it seemed to him – he sat thus. Suddenly, in his ears, there sounded the faintest of scratching sounds. It was as soft as the footsteps of an invalid fly. But Ned knew that somewhere out on the sea ship was speaking to ship, and that what he heard was the echo of their talk.

Suddenly he picked up a pencil and began to write rapidly. Herr Muller bent over his shoulder. He watched with keen absorption as Ned's pencil flew over the paper.

"Yes, she's all right; but she's not as pretty as the blonde operator at Key West."

"Is that the message you were expecting?" inquired Ned blandly, gazing up at Herr Muller.

"What nonsense is dot?" sputtered the other, lapsing into his foreign accent.

"Well, since you ask me," rejoined Ned, "I think it's the operator on one coasting steamer talking to the wireless man on another vessel about a blonde young lady at Key West."

Herr Muller exploded.

"Vot I care aboudt blonde young vimins?" he demanded, pounding the table angrily. "Der message I vant iss a navy message, you onderstond dot?"

"Oh, that's it, is it?" inquired Ned, assuming great innocence. "I thought you wanted every message that came through the air. – Hullo! – Hush! – Here she comes now!"

Suddenly a new note had struck into the wireless channels. The quick, imperious call of a battleship summoning the wireless ears of another sea-fighter.

"M-n! M-n! M-n!"

"It's the Manhattan being called by the flagship," muttered Ned. "Hullo! now they're answering."

"Squadron will rendezvous at Blackhaven Bay. Will await further instructions there," he translated rapidly. But his translation was mental only. To Herr Muller he handed only a string of figures, the cipher the two vessels had been using. Muller hastened off with it to Chance's cabin. The man had now recovered from his swoon and might be able to translate the message.

Ned took instant advantage of the situation.

With quick, nervous fingers he began pounding the sending key. The lithe, white spark crackled and flashed across the terminals. It crackled like a bunch of firecrackers.

"M-n! M-n! M-n!" was what the boy kept pounding out.

Would the Manhattan never answer?

The spark crackled on, but no answering flash came through the air.

"The apparatus is too weak," groaned Ned, despairing at the long silence. But at the same instant his heart gave a great pound. His pulses began to leap. Through space had come an answering message.

Ned lost no time. His fingers began to pound the sending key once more.

"Danger. At Blackhaven– "

Bang!

The interruption was sharp and startling. Splinters flew from under Ned's fingers as the bullet smashed the sending key to smithereens. He turned swiftly. In the doorway stood Merritt, revolver in hand. It was the recreant seaman who had fired the shot and interrupted Ned's warning message.

"So you thought you'd tip us off to the Manhattan, eh?" he snarled. "Well, you never made a bigger mistake in your life. I know something of wireless telegraphy myself."

Ned was conscious of nothing but a hot flame of anger that seemed to bathe him from head to foot in its fury. He flung the helmet from his head and sprang at Merritt like a tiger. Taken utterly by surprise, the fellow was carried clean off his feet by the assault. He crashed backward with Ned on top of him just as Herr Muller rushed out of Chance's cabin, waving the cipher message delightedly.

"The fleet is going to rendezvous at Blackhaven!" he was shouting. "I was right, and – "

He stopped short as he almost stumbled over the struggling forms of Ned and Merritt. In the semi-darkness of the cabin and his excitement he had not noticed them before.

"Donnervetter, vos is diss?" he cried as he took in the situation and speedily sensed the fact that Merritt was getting the worst of the struggle.

He picked up a heavy chair that stood close to his hand. He was swinging it and was about to bring it crashing down on Ned's head when something collided with his chin.

As Herr Muller, seeing a whole constellation of stars, reeled backward, dropping the chair with a bang, he dimly realized that that "something" had been the brawny and freckled fist of one Herc Taylor.