CHAPTER XVII.
A DUEL TO THE DEATH.
TO return to Garth and the engineer.
For a few seconds they could do naught but gaze helplessly at the approaching monster; then all the fighting spirit of the inventor rose, and he prepared to resist to the death, if need be.
Darting out on deck, he cast off the mooring-rope, bellowing the while to Wilson to start the engines. Within three minutes of the appearance of the great fish-lizard, the Seal, passing close to the towering side of the brute, flashed seaward at her topmost speed.
And now began a chase in the like of which Garth had never taken part before. With all his skill at the wheel he could but barely keep the Seal away from her monstrous enemy. The reptile seemed bent on the destruction of the craft this time. He spared no effort to overtake her. Perhaps his previous failure had rendered him the more furious?
With every plate on his body gleaming with a brilliant, phosphorescent light, he swept on. His breath hissed through his gaping nostrils like steam from the escape valve of an engine, and his mighty paddles were buried beneath a smother of foam.
Swiftly he overhauled the flying vessel, until he was almost alongside; then, swift and sure, he snapped at the Seal’s rail. Quickly as Garth turned the faithful craft, he was a moment too late. The great fangs closed upon the polished steel bar, and, with a jerk that almost overturned the boat, a six-foot length of rail was torn bodily from its boltings.
The narrowness of the escape brought the sweat pouring from the inventor’s body. Apparently the shock had not injured the saurian, for he swept on again in pursuit, giving utterance to a booming roar as he advanced.
A dangerous gleam came into Garth’s eyes as he noted the grim persistency of the monstrous reptile. Staving off a second attack of the brute by a quick turn of the wheel, the inventor took down the tube.
“Stand by to reverse her when she strikes,” he cried. “I’m going to ram the brute.”
“Be careful!” warned Wilson in return, and then Garth dropped the tube.
Bringing the Seal round in a perilously close circle, he steered her straight and true for her monstrous enemy’s side. This offensive movement seemed to puzzle the saurian, and he attempted to avoid the swooping vessel.
But she was too quick for him. With a shock that almost jerked Garth from his feet, the vessel’s sharp prow struck the reptile’s heaving side, about midway between the two starboard paddles. A crimson torrent spurted from the wound, deluging the Seal’s bright plates, and turning her spotless deck into a veritable shambles.
On the instant Wilson flung over his levers, and, under reversed engines, the submarine leapt back from her stricken foe. Yet, quick as she moved, the great tail of the ichthyosaurus moved quicker. With a stroke like that of a steam hammer, it struck the Seal’s hull just below water, starting a couple of plates, through the interstices of which the water commenced to pour in an ever-increasing stream.
Though sorely stricken the great fish-lizard was not yet defeated. Swinging round, he churned after the retreating vessel, his roar changed to a shrill screaming.
Again the inventor signalled for full speed ahead, and, for the second time, the vessel plunged down upon her relentless pursuer. With marvellous swiftness the huge brute swerved from his course, but Garth, with a turn of the wheel, followed his movement. The inventor was determined that he would finish this reptile once and for all.
The bleeding side of the creature offered an excellent mark, and straight for this Garth drove the vessel. Like a rocket she shot forward, and the saurian’s ribs snapped like matchwood as once more she struck the towering carcase.
There came a terrible death-cry from the huge reptile; then, as the Seal drew slowly away, the brute leapt clear out of the water, and fell with a thunderous crash across the submarine’s deck. A savage exclamation burst from Garth as the Seal commenced to sink beneath the enormous weight of the monster’s body. The brute’s paddles were thrashing madly in its death flurry, and the booming strokes of the giant tail seemed to make the whole underworld ring.
Alarmed by the uproar, the engineer came rushing up into the turret.
“What’s happened?” he cried; then his eye took in the peril of the situation. The water was fast closing over the Seal, and, despite all his efforts, Garth could not shake her clear of the dying saurian. Once let her touch bottom with that great weight across her deck, and no power on earth could raise her again.
“Sink her!” Garth cried at length, turning to his friend, “it’s our only chance. If we can’t get her clear of this brute we’re done.”
Quick as thought Wilson darted below again, and a moment later the throb of the pumps broke upon the ears of the inventor.
Would it be possible for the vessel to sink from under her monstrous burden?
Anxiously Garth looked out into the swirling waters, but the saurian appeared to sink quite as fast as the Seal. The strokes of the brute’s paddles, though now feebler, were yet enough to occasion the inventor no small uneasiness.
Neither forward nor backward could the vessel move, although urged on by the full power of her engines. The enormous weight across her deck held her almost motionless.
So the minutes dragged by, each one fraught with the suspense of a lifetime, and there came no change for the better in the situation of the Seal and her occupants, save that the last spark of life had flickered from the monster, and he lay still in death. Yet even this was something to be thankful for. While he lived there had ever been a danger that, by some random stroke of his paddles, he might have smashed in one or other of the vessel’s deck-plates. Now that danger was past.
But still the vessel sank in the crimsoned waters. Soon, unless this sea was of unusual depth, she must touch bottom; and then—a slow, lingering death for the two men aboard her—death by suffocation, deep down in the gloomy depths of this subterranean sea.
The lonely vigil grew too much for Garth at last, and, placing the tube to his lips, he summoned the engineer.
“It’s no use,” he remarked hopelessly, as the latter entered the wheelhouse; “we might as well let things take their course. The brute’s jammed too firmly across the deck for us to move him.”
“It’s what Silas would call ‘checkmate,’ then?” questioned Wilson.
“That’s it; but it seems jolly hard, just as we’d bested the brute, too. How’s that crack going on where his tail caught us?”
“I’ve fixed the door of the room—it’s Mervyn’s study, you know, where the smash is—so that the water cannot spread to other places. I say, it was a good thing we decided to have water-tight doors to all the compartments!”
But Garth did not answer. He was gazing fixedly outside. The water, stained until now to a crimson hue by the life-blood of the saurian, was clearing rapidly.
“Look!” the inventor cried suddenly. Wilson followed the direction of his gaze. Close alongside a jagged, black rock was thrusting itself upward as the vessel sank.
“If the brute’s body will only catch on that we may escape after all,” Garth cried excitedly. “Get below again, Tom, old man, and start your engines like blazes when you hear me ring.”
The next few moments were full of painful anxiety to the engineer as he waited, gripping his levers, for the signal which should tell him that the vessel was free. It came at length, and a wild huzza almost escaped him as he felt the Seal begin to move. Ere long she was sweeping through the water at her usual pace, and then Wilson felt free to raise her. When she reached the surface the lad rejoined his comrade in the turret.
“Thank heaven we came through all right!” Garth breathed fervently. “That squeak was narrow enough to turn one’s hair grey. But for that rock we’d have been done, sure as fate. The brute’s head caught against it, and the old boat simply dropped from under. How’s your arm?”
“Aches badly,” was the reply. “I knocked it as I went down the last time.”
“That’s bad. I’ll dress it soon as ever we get back.”
Straight for the beach Garth steered the Seal, running her aground in preparation for repairing the damages sustained in the struggle with the saurian. Then, when Wilson’s wound was redressed, Garth rolled up his sleeves and disappeared below, leaving the engineer to keep watch.
For awhile Tom sat listening to the clang of the inventor’s tools as he refixed the damaged plates. He knew well that the job would be a difficult one for Garth to carry out alone, yet his wounded arm precluded him from assisting in the work. So, though he would far rather have been below, plying wrench or hammer, he had perforce to remain inactive.
Time dragged heavily. Outside nothing seemed stirring. Long since he had given up hope that his friends would return. Doubtless by now, if still alive, they were far away in the heart of this mysterious underworld.
Suddenly a screech floated across the water, breaking in upon his meditation.
“What’s that?” he muttered to himself, and striding to the door, opened it cautiously, wondering what fresh attack the strange cry heralded. Again it came, and at that he stepped out on deck, his revolver ready for action.
Then through the gloom flashed some monstrous flying creature, and Wilson fired almost point-blank at the swooping body. But a blow from the creature’s wing knocked his weapon from his hand, and felled him like a log to the deck. As he struggled to rise, the brute’s great teeth fixed themselves in his shoulder; he was borne swiftly aloft, his terrified cries for help falling vainly on the ears of Garth, who, alarmed by the shot, came rushing up from below just in time to catch a glimpse of the disappearing form of his friend.
For a time the unhappy engineer became unconscious, recovering from one swoon only to fall into another. He remembered nothing of his terrible journey; his mind was a complete blank until the shock of a fall roused him, and he opened his eyes.
He was lying upon a carpet of spongy moss. Around, entirely enclosing the spot where he lay, towered a forest of fungi. Of his captor he could at first see nothing, and, thinking to make his escape if the brute had vanished, he sat up and peered cautiously around. Then, as his glance strayed upward, a shudder passed through his frame.
Twenty feet above, his soaring wings almost grazing the topmost branching arms of the fungi, hovered the great vampire. As the brute noted the engineer’s movement, its savage eyes glared threateningly, and Wilson subsided, trembling.
Still as death he lay waiting, wondering why the fearsome brute did not at once attack him, instead of hovering there in mid-air. His curiosity was quickly satisfied.
Like a flash a second vampire swooped into view and hurled itself upon Wilson’s ghoulish guardian. In an instant the twain were fighting tooth and nail, their mighty wings raising a deafening clamour.
Not a move dared the lad make, fearing that the great bats might unite forces against him did they see him stirring. Round and round the brutes circled, rocking, reeling in their frenzied efforts to destroy each other. Now they sank until they were whirling but a few feet above Wilson’s head; anon, they would soar into the gloom far beyond his sight.
For an hour the duel raged, the creatures’ efforts growing feebler as the time went on, while the crimson rain which sprinkled down over the engineer bore grim testimony to the sanguinary nature of the struggle.
Suddenly, with a shrill scream, one of the vampires pitched heavily earthward. Its adversary swayed unsteadily for a moment, then fluttered to the ground beside it.
In a second Tom was upon his feet. Knife in hand, he moved towards his foes. One was already dead, and the other, too exhausted to move and bleeding from a score of wounds, fell an easy prey to the engineer’s weapon.
Feeling deeply thankful for his escape from a terrible death, the lad stood looking down on the carcases for a few moments; then, striding forward over the moss, he plunged through the encircling fungi. As he emerged from the glistening growths a startled cry escaped him.
The ground before him was thickly covered with bones!
At the sight of the ghastly relics his already overstrained nerves almost gave way, but, exerting all his self-control, he pulled himself together and strode down the valley, hoping ere long to regain the coast.