Luis Philip Senarens - Frank Reade Jr.'s Submarine Boat The Explorer; or, to the North Pole Under the Ice

“I shall be pleased.”

“Ah!” said Harmon, with a sigh, “that recalls to my mind, Frank, that barely five years ago my brave boy Roger met his fate in that awful icy waste. May I ask of you a favor?”

“Certainly.”

“If you can find his bones there will you bring them home to his sorrow-stricken father?”

“Of course I will!”

“God bless you!”

Frank knew that Alexander Harmon had set his life upon his handsome son, Roger.

He knew well the story of the lad’s fate.

He had gone to the Arctic on a two years’ whaling cruise with his uncle Ezra Barton, in the ship Solitaire.

One day while out in the whale boat with four of the sailors Roger Harmon had lost the ship.

A fog shutting down prevented his finding his way back.

That was the last seen of Roger Harmon and his companions.

All efforts were of no avail.

Five years had passed.

He had not returned, and his father had given him up.

Frank knew this story well.

“Let me give you a ray of hope, Mr. Harmon,” he said, with feeling. “I may be able to find your son alive.”

But the old man shook his head.

He did not credit that.

“Five years have gone!” he said.

“Ah, but that is nothing,” declared Frank. “In that mighty unexplored wilderness he might be ten years in getting back to civilization.”

Far and near had spread the report that the Explorer was to be launched upon the following day.

At the appointed hour a great crowd was on hand.

Frank’s only companions and crew on board the Explorer were Barney and Pomp.

He took a fond farewell of his wife, and stepped upon the deck of the submarine ship.

Then he gave the sign to the workmen.

The stays were knocked away, and the submarine boat shot down the ways.

Into the waters of the basin she plunged and floated.

A handsome craft she was, revealed to the gaze of the interested spectators.

Cannon boomed and the people cheered.

It was a great day for Readestown.

Frank waved the United States flag and Barney in the pilot-house set the course of the Explorer out into the river.

First, however, the Explorer was allowed to plunge beneath the waters as an experiment and an exhibition.

She was a success in every point of view.

Down the river she glided and soon left Readestown far behind.

The course to the sea was uneventful, and we will pass over a lapse of time to find the Explorer forging along at a rapid rate of speed through the Atlantic off the coast of Newfoundland.

Barney managed affairs in the pilot-house.

Frank looked after the chemical air supply reservoirs and the electrical apparatus.

Pomp, of course, was the master of the culinary department.

But the darky was well qualified in other branches, and was ever ready to relieve Barney or Frank either.

The Explorer was a fast sailor, and cut her way through the waves at the rate of twenty knots an hour.

Many sailing craft were encountered, and all were seemingly amazed at sight of the curious boat.

One day a terrific storm came up.

The waves ran mountain high, and the wind blew terrifically.

An ordinary vessel would have had enough to do to live in such a sea.

The Explorer was a fine sea boat.

But Frank Reade, Jr., did not like the idea of being tossed about so violently.

“Open the air-chamber, Barney!” he cried. “We’ve had enough of this!”

“All roight, sor!” cried the Celt.

He proceeded to obey with alacrity.

The Explorer instantly sank.

The water was not more than fifty fathoms deep here, but as the submarine boat touched the bottom not a particle of the rude storm going on above could be felt.

The search-light was turned on, and a startling sight was revealed.

All about was smooth, white sand, and deeply buried in this, not one hundred feet distant, was the dismantled hull of a vessel.

“‘Clar to goodness!” cried Pomp. “Does yo’ see dat, Marse Frank?”

“Ah, there are many such monuments as that in these waters!” said Frank. “These are the fishing banks, and just such storms as the one going on above have sent many a craft to the bottom!”

“Begorra, that don’t luk much loike a fishing vessel, sor!” said Barney.

Touching a lever, Frank caused the Explorer to glide forward a little ways.

The search-light was full upon the wreck, and every detail of the craft could be plainly followed.

Frank saw that Barney was right.

The craft was far from being like that of the fishermen.

Its queer shaped hull and high decks fore and aft showed it to be of the Spanish galleon type.

There was no doubt but that this was an old-time ship which had lain here perhaps for a century.

Frank was at once interested.

“Well, here is a find!” he cried; “for aught we know this may be one of the treasure ships!”

“Massy sakes! Jes’ let dis chile git on him armor!” cried Pomp. “I done fink dat I laik fo’ to visit dat ship!”

“Begorra, I’ll sthay an’ watch out fer sharks if yez want to go,” said Barney to Frank.

The young inventor very quickly made up his mind.

“Upon my word I’ll do it!” he cried. “Get ready, Pomp. Perhaps we’ll make a find.”

The darky was delighted with the prospect.

He was quickly ready.

Going into the vestibule both put on their diving suits.

Then Frank turned a cock and the compartment began to fill up with water.

The storage reservoirs on their backs began to work, keeping up a current of wholesome oxygen.

Frank opened the door and stepped out upon the platform.

It required a few moments for them to get used to the tremendous pressure of the water.

Then Frank began to descend the gang ladder.

Pomp followed him.

Soon they reached the bed of the ocean and stood upon the white sands.

Barney in the pilot-house watched them.

Frank started for the wreck and Pomp followed behind.

Both had axes in their belts and long knives.

These latter were for use in case they were attacked by a shark or any sea monster of that ilk.

Frank saw that the hull of the vessel was literally covered with seaweed and debris.

However, he was able with the aid of the electric light upon his helmet to read the name upon the stern:

“Donna Isabella.”

“It is a Spanish ship!” thought Frank. “She will be worth exploring.”

He clambered upon the deck.

The hatch was open and Frank saw crumbling stairs leading down into the cabin.

Pomp followed Frank as he descended into the place.

Their lamps illuminated the cabin, which was seen to be luxuriously furnished.

But this was in the style of a century past.

The furniture and appointments of the cabin were remarkably well preserved.

But there was no sign of human remains to be seen anywhere.

In the lapse of time, however, since the vessel had been consigned to this resting place, the remains of the doomed crew could have been utterly effaced.

There was no doubt that this was the case.

Pomp picked up a rust eaten fragment of a sword handle from the cabin table.

A few pieces of money also lay thereon.

They were gold doubloons and perfectly well preserved.

Passing through the cabin, Frank went into the galley.

From there he went forward through what was evidently the ship’s magazine.

Here he pushed open a door, the locks of which had rusted.

A square compartment was seen, and a number of steel and brass boxes lay piled one upon the other.

This was the treasure chamber of the ship.

It required but a slight blow with the ax to batter off the lid of the first box.