"Get me one, too, if you please," called Ned as the gentleman hurried away.

"And I'll also try my luck at potting a shark. Bless my gunpowder if I won't!" said Mr. Damon.

The captain did have several rifles in his stateroom, and he loaned them to Mr. Sander. They were magazine weapons, firing sixteen shots each, but they were not of as high power as those Tom had packed away.

"Now we'll make those sharks sing a different tune, if sharks sing!"

cried the young inventor.

"Yes, we're coming to the rescue of the porpoises!" added Ned.

The pa.s.sengers crowded up to witness the marksmans.h.i.+p, and soon the lads and Mr. Damon were at it.

It was no easy matter to hit a shark, as the big, ugly fish were only seen for a moment in their mad rushes after the porpoises, but both Tom and Ned were good shots and they made the bullets tell.

"There, I hit one big fellow!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my bull's eye, but I plugged him right in the mouth, I think."

"I hope you knocked out some of his teeth," cried Ned.

They fired rapidly, and while they probably hit some of the innocent porpoises in their haste, yet they accomplished what they had set out to do--scare off the sharks. In a little while the "tigers of the sea" as some one has aptly called them, disappeared.

"That's the stuff!" cried Mr. Damon. "Now we can watch the porpoises at play."

But they did not have that sight to interest them very long. For, as suddenly as the gamboling fish had appeared, they sank from sight--all but a few dead ones that the sharks had left floating on the calm surface of the ocean. Probably the timid fish had taken some alarm from the depths into which they sank.

"Well, that was some excitement while it lasted," remarked Tom. as he and Ned took the rifles back to the captain.

"But it didn't bring out the mysterious pa.s.sengers," added Ned. Tom shook his head and on their return to deck he purposely went out of his way to go past Stateroom No. 27, where the "Wilsons" were quartered. The door was closed and a momentary pause to listen brought our hero no clew, for all was silent in the room.

"It's too much for me," he murmured, shaking his head and he rejoined his chum.

Several more days pa.s.sed, for the Maderia was a slow boat, and could not make good time to Mexico. However, our travelers were in no haste, and they fully enjoyed the voyage.

Try as Tom did to get a glimpse of the mysterious pa.s.sengers he was unsuccessful. He spent many hours in a night, and early morning vigil, only to have to do his sleeping next day, and it resulted in nothing.

"I guess they want to get on Mexican soil before any one sees their faces," spoke Ned, and Tom was inclined to agree with his chum.

They awoke one morning to find the sea tempestuous. The s.h.i.+p tossed and rolled amid the billows, and the captain said they had run into the tail end of a gulf hurricane.

"Two days more and we'll be in port," he added, "and I'm sorry the voyage had to be marred even by this blow."

For it did blow, and, though it was not a dangerous storm, yet many pa.s.sengers kept below.

"I'm afraid this settles it," remarked Tom that night, when the s.h.i.+p was still pitching and tossing. "They won't come out now, and this is likely to keep up until we get to port. Well, I can't help it."

But fate was on the verge of aiding Tom in an unexpected way. Nearly every one turned in early that night for it was no pleasure to sit in the saloons, and to lie in one's berth made it easier to stand the rolling of the vessel.

Tom and Ned, together with Mr. Damon, had fallen into slumber in spite of the storm, when, just as eight bells announced midnight there was a sudden jar throughout the whole s.h.i.+p.

The Maderia quivered from stem to stern, seemed to hesitate a moment as though she had been brought to a sudden stop, and then plowed on, only to bring up against some obstruction again, with that same sickening jar throughout her length.

"Bless my soul! What's that?" cried Mr. Damon, springing from his berth.

"Something has happened!" added Tom, as he reached out and switched on the electric lights.

"We hit something!" declared Ned.

The s.h.i.+p was now almost stopped and she was rolling from side to side.

Up on deck could be heard confused shouts and the running to and fro of many feet. The jangling of bells sounded--hoa.r.s.e orders were shouted--and there arose a subdued hubbub in the interior of the s.h.i.+p.

"Something sure is wrong!" cried Tom. "We'd better get our clothes on and get on deck! Come on, Ned and Mr. Damon! Grab life preservers!"

CHAPTER XII

INTO THE UNKNOWN

"Bless my overshoes! I hope we're not sinking!" cried Mr. Damon, as he struggled into some of his clothes, an example followed by Ned and Tom.

"This boat has water-tight compartments, and if it does sink it won't do it in a hurry," commented Tom.

"I don't care to have it do it at all," declared Ned, who found that he had started to get into his trousers hindside before and he had to change them. "Think of all our baggage and supplies and the balloon on board." For the travelers had s.h.i.+pped their things by the same steamer as that on which they sailed.

"Well, let's get out and learn the worst," cried Tom.

He was the first to leave the stateroom, and as he rushed along the pa.s.sages which were now brilliant with light he saw other half-clad pa.s.sengers bent on the same errand as himself, to get on deck and learn what had happened.

"Wait, Tom!" called Ned.

"Come along, I'm just ahead of you," yelled his chum from around a corner. "I'm going to see if Eradicate is up. He's an awful heavy sleeper."

"Bless my feather bed! That shock was enough to awaken anyone!"

commented Mr. Damon, as he followed Ned, who was running to catch up to Tom.

Suddenly a thought came to our hero. The mysterious pa.s.sengers in Stateroom No. 27! Surely this midnight alarm would bring them out, and he might have a chance to see who they were.

Tom thought quickly. He could take a turn, go through a short pa.s.sage, and run past the room of the mysterious pa.s.sengers getting on deck as quickly as if he went the usual way.

"I'll go look after Rad!" Tom shouted to Ned. "You go up on deck, and I'll join you."

Eradicate's stateroom was on his way, after he had pa.s.sed No. 27.

Tom at once put his plan into execution. As he ran on, the confusion on deck seemed to increase, but the lad noted that the vessel did not pitch and roll so much, and she seemed to be on an even keel, and in no immediate danger of going down.

As Tom neared Stateroom No. 27 he heard voices coming from it, voices that sent a thrill through him, for he was sure he had heard them before.