spoken!” said the captain. “But as far as that is concerned, I think I can keep Mr. Hunter occupied.”
“Then take him, and welcome!”
Whereupon, still elated but now somewhat uneasy, Larry accompanied Captain Petersen from the mess-room; started to, that is. But at a glance of sympathy from Diane, he dared call out:
“Say – hold on, folks! I haven’t had lunch yet!”
When young Larry Hunter reported to the captain of the Nereid, after this necessary meal, he found that the craft had returned to the surface.
Assigned a pair of powerful binoculars, he was ordered to stand watch in the conning-tower and survey the horizon in every direction, in an effort to sight the vessel that had sent out that mysterious radio, but though he cast his good brown eyes diligently through those strong lenses, he saw not so much as a smoke tuft upon the broad, gray-blue surface of the hazy Atlantic.
Gradually, however, as the afternoon wore away, something else came in view. Masses of brownish seaweed, supported by small, berry-like bladders, began drifting by. Far apart at first, they began getting more and more dense, till at last, with a thrill, he realized that they were drawing into that strange area known as the Sargasso Sea.
Shortly after this realization dawned, he was ordered below, and as the tropic sun was sinking over that eery floating tombstone, which according to Professor Stevens marked a nation’s grave, the Nereid submerged.
Down she slid, a hundred fathoms or more, on a long, even glide that took her deep under that veiling brown blanket.
In the navigating room now, Larry stood with the captain, the professor and Diane, studying an illuminated panel on which appeared a cross of five squares, like a box opened out.
The central square reproduced the scene below, while those to left and right depicted it from port and starboard, and those to front and rear revealed the forward and aft aspects of the panorama, thus affording a clear view in every direction.
This, then, was the television device Professor Stevens had referred to the previous afternoon, its mechanical eyes enabling then to search every square inch of those mysterious depths, as they cruised along.
It was the central square that occupied their attention chiefly, however, as they stood studying the panel. While the others represented merely an unbroken vista of greenish water, this one showed the sea floor as clearly as though they had been peering down into a shallow lagoon through a glass-bottomed boat, though it must have been a quarter of a mile below their cruising level.
A wonderful and fearsome sight it was to Larry: like something seen in a nightmare – a fantastic desert waste of rocks and dunes, with here and there a yawning chasm whose ominous depths their ray failed to penetrate, and now and then a jutting plateau that would appear on the forward square and cause Captain Petersen to elevate their bow sharply.
But more thrilling than this was their first glimpse of a sunken ship – a Spanish galleon, beyond a doubt!
There she lay, grotesquely on her side, half rotted, half buried in the sand, but still discernible. And to Larry’s wildly racing imagination, a flood of gold and jewels seemed to pour from her ruined coffers.
Turning to Diane, he saw that her eyes too were flashing with intense excitement.
“Say!” he exclaimed. “Why don’t we stop and look her over? There may be a fortune down there!”
Professor Stevens promptly vetoed the suggestion, however.
“I must remind you, young man,” he said severely, “that this is not a treasure hunt.”
Whereupon Larry subsided; outwardly, at least. But when presently the central square revealed another and then another sunken ship, it was all he could do to contain himself.
Now, suddenly, Diane cried out:
“Oh, daddy, look! There’s a modern ship! A – a freighter, isn’t it?”
“A collier, I would say,” was her father’s calm reply. “Rather a large one, too. Cyclops, possibly. She disappeared some years ago, en route from the Barbados to Norfolk. Or possibly it is any one of a dozen other steel vessels that have vanished from these seas in recent times. The area of the Sargasso, my dear, is known as ‘The Port of Missing Ships.’”
“But couldn’t we drop down and make sure which ship it is?” she pleaded, voicing the very thought Larry had been struggling to suppress.
At the professor’s reply, however, he was glad he had kept quiet.
“We could, of course,” was his gentle though firm rebuke, “but if we stopped to solve the mystery of every sunken ship we shall probably see during this cruise, we would have time for nothing else. Nevertheless, my dear, you may take a short memorandum of the location and circumstances, in the present instance.”
Whereupon he dictated briefly, while Larry devoted his attention once more to the central square.
Suddenly, beyond a dark pit that seemed to reach down into the very bowels of the earth, rose an abrupt plateau – and on one of its nearer elevations, almost directly under then, loomed a monumental four-sided mound.
“Say – hold on!” called Larry. “Look at that, Professor! Isn’t that a building of some kind?”
Martin Stevens looked up, glanced skeptically toward the panel. But one glimpse at what that central square revealed, and his skepticism vanished.
“A building?” he cried in triumph. “A building indeed! It is a pyramid, young man!”
“Good Lord!”
“Oh, daddy! Really?”
“Beyond a doubt! And look – there are two other similar structures, only smaller!”
Struggling for calm, he turned to Captain Petersen, who had taken his eyes from the forward square and was peering down as well upon those singular mounds.
“Stop! Descend!” was his exultant command. “This is my proof! We have discovered Antillia!”
Swiftly the Nereid dropped to that submerged plateau.
In five minutes, her keel was resting evenly on the smooth sand beside the largest of the three pyramids.
Professor Stevens then announced that he would make a preliminary investigation of the site at once.
“For, otherwise, I for one would be quite unable to sleep tonight!” declared the graybeard, with a boyish chuckle.
He added that Diane would accompany him.
At this latter announcement, Larry’s heart sank. He had hoped against hope that he might be invited along with them.
But once again his champion came to his aid.
“We really ought to let Mr. Hunter come with us, daddy, don’t you think?” she urged, noting his disappointment. “After all, it was he who made the discovery.”
“Very true,” said her father, “but I had not thought it necessary for anyone to accompany us. In the event anyone does, Captain Petersen should have that honor.”
But this honor the captain declined.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d prefer to stay with the ship,” he said, quietly. “I haven’t forgotten that radio warning.”
“But surely you don’t think anyone can molest us down here?” scoffed the professor.
“No, but I’d prefer to stay with the ship just the same, sir, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well” – with a touch of pique. “Then you may come along if you care to, Mr. Hunter.”
If he cared to!
“Thanks, Professor!” he said with a grateful look toward Diane. “I’d be keen to!”
So he accompanied them below, where they donned their pressure-suits – rubber affairs rather less cumbersome than ordinary