[Ill.u.s.tration: The Chart Showed the Depth of the Water]

The water was about three hundred feet deep here, the Hydrographic Office charts showed. When Ned learned this, he looked serious.

"The record depth attained by a diver is only 204 feet!" he exclaimed.

"At least, that's what I read in an encyclopedia."

"Guess you're referring to James Hooper, who reached that depth off the South American coast some years ago," smiled Tom Swift. "But since then diving-dress has undergone considerable improvement, eh, Captain Britten?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Boom Was Swung Overside]

"That's right. I have on board several of the newest type suits.

Besides, I use native divers, men who, even without protection, can descend to almost unbelievable distances."

Quickly a boom was swung out overside. From it hung several pulleys to which was attached a narrow steel platform. Presently three tall Negroes carried out of the storeroom grotesque-looking diving suits which weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds apiece.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He Shuffled Across the Deck]

Captain Britten spoke in Spanish to one of them, then the fellow began putting on the weird uniform. It made him look like a visitor from another world. The tremendous weight of his garb prevented him from moving at more than a slow shuffle across the deck, strong though he was.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Trail of Bubbles]

A section of the railing had been removed to allow access to the dangling metal platform upon which the diver stepped. The boom swung out and the drum of the winch began unrolling. In a few seconds only a trail of vanishing bubbles marked the spot where the Negro had gone into the sea.

"How long will it take him to reach bottom?" asked Ned, peering overside in fascination.

"About forty minutes," replied Captain Britten. "A diver must be lowered and raised gradually in order to avoid the terrible after-effects of a sudden change in pressure. At three hundred feet the pressure is more than eighteen thousand pounds per square foot!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tom Held His Watch to His Ear]

Time dragged on. Down, down rolled the heavy cable supporting the diver.

Finally Tom held his watch to his ear, as though he were afraid it might have stopped.

"Oh, it's still running," laughed Ned a little nervously as he observed his chum's action. "Only five more minutes, Tom!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: He Reported a Good Sandy Bottom]

At last a bell tinkled and Captain Britten grabbed up the telephone instrument which connected barge and diver. For a few seconds he listened, then replied briefly in Spanish.

"Alvarez is down," he said to Tom as he hung up the receiver. "He reports a good, sandy bottom but no sight yet of the meteorite. At any rate, there's no danger of it having sunk in an oozy bottom."

Ten minutes later the phone buzzed again, this time with a request that the ship be moved a little east and that Manuel, Alvarez's mate, be sent down to help. This was done, and another telephone instrument was plugged in.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Manuel Was to Go Down]

Tom, who understood a little Spanish, stood by to hear the report of the second diver. Both lines were now kept open continuously.

Finally Manuel reached bottom, saying that he had contacted Alvarez. For some minutes nothing came through either telephone but the sound of the submerged men's breathing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Something Has Gone Wrong!]

"I see something, Senor! A rock--'que grande'!" came to Tom's ears suddenly. "It must indeed be that which the Senor seeks. But, Santa Maria! there is something else--!" Manuel's voice broke off suddenly.

"Captain Britten! Can you hear your man?" shouted Tom after his repeated attempts to renew, the connection had failed.

"No! I can hear only a m.u.f.fled groaning. Something has gone wrong.

That's sure!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Stop, Senor!" Screamed the Engineer]

"Pull 'em up quick, then!" advised Ned.

This seemed good advice, so the auxiliary engine was started and the winches began turning slowly.

"Stop, Senor!" suddenly screamed the native engineer, waving his arms excitedly and cutting off the steam. "The drums turn--si--but the cables do not rise. Something has caught the men!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Loose the Winches]

CHAPTER IX

A ROBBER

"Loose the winches a little!" ordered Captain Britten sharply. "The air-hoses are strained almost to the breaking point."

"Si," mumbled the engineer, easing off the brake a trifle.

"What's the trouble, in your opinion, Captain?" asked Tom.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Engineer Eased the Brake]

"Hard to say, young fellow," came the worried reply. "What I'm afraid of is that a huge octopus or some such monster has attacked the poor divers. Whatever it is, I fear it's the end for 'em, as there's not another diver aboard and we can't haul the men up for fear of breakin'

their air-lines."

"Have you another diving suit?" asked Tom rapidly. "I've had considerable experience in undersea work and can't let those boys drown without trying to help 'em!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I'm Afraid It Is an Octopus!"]

"Can you do it, lad? Yes, I've a brand-new outfit aboard that's of the latest type. But what'll I say to your father if anything happens to you?"

"Dad wouldn't want me to stand back at a time like this," rejoined the young inventor. "I sent these men down and it's up to me to see they get back safely!"

"But, Tom!" cried Ned. "What of the octopus? You may be trapped too, and not save Manuel and Alvarez either!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "It's up to Me!"]