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  MOTOR STORIES

  THRILLING
  ADVENTURE

  MOTOR
  FICTION

  NO. 16
  JUNE 12, 1909

  FIVE
  CENTS


  MOTOR MATT'S
  QUEST

  _OR_ THREE CHUMS
  IN STRANGE WATERS

  _By THE AUTHOR OF "MOTOR MATT"_

  [Illustration: _"HELUP, OR I VAS A GONER!" YELLED CARL,
  LEAPING INTO THE WATER AS MOTOR MATT
  MADE READY TO HURL THE HARPOON._]

  _STREET & SMITH,
  PUBLISHERS,
  NEW YORK_




MOTOR STORIES

THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION

_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._

  No. 16.      NEW YORK, June 12, 1909.      Price Five Cents.




Motor Matt's Quest;

OR,

THREE CHUMS IN STRANGE WATERS.

By the author of "MOTOR MATT."




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER I. IN THE DEPTHS.
  CHAPTER II. OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
  CHAPTER III. THE SEALED ORDERS.
  CHAPTER IV. THE AMERICAN CONSUL.
  CHAPTER V. MOTOR MATT'S FORBEARANCE.
  CHAPTER VI. "ON THE JUMP."
  CHAPTER VII. THE LANDING PARTY.
  CHAPTER VIII. CARL IN TROUBLE.
  CHAPTER IX. A FRIEND IN NEED.
  CHAPTER X. STRANGE REVELATIONS.
  CHAPTER XI. ONE CHANCE IN TEN.
  CHAPTER XII. BY A NARROW MARGIN.
  CHAPTER XIII. WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO HAPPEN.
  CHAPTER XIV. MOTOR MATT'S GREAT PLAY.
  CHAPTER XV. ON THE WAY TO BELIZE.
  CHAPTER XVI. A DASH OF TABASCO.
  Mischievous Ned.
  TERRIBLE FATE OF A DARING INDIAN.
  STUMBLING UPON GOLD MINES.
  YEAR OF THE COCK.




CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.


  =Motor Matt=, a lad who is at home with every variety of motor, and
  whose never-failing nerve serves to carry him through difficulties
  that would daunt any ordinary young fellow. Because of his daring
  as a racer with bicycle, motor-cycle and automobile he is known as
  "Mile-a-minute Matt." Motor-boats, air ships and submarines come
  naturally in his line, and consequently he lives in an atmosphere of
  adventure in following up his "hobby."

  =Dick Ferral=, a young sea dog from Canada, with all a sailor's
  superstitions, but in spite of all that a royal chum, ready to stand
  by the friend of his choice through thick and thin.

  =Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German boy, stout of frame
  as well as of heart, who is led by a fortunate accident to link his
  fortunes with those of Motor Matt.

  =Hays Jordan=, United States consul at Belize. A man of pluck and
  determination, who furnishes valuable information about his friend,
  Jeremiah Coleman, and even more valuable personal services during the
  rescue of Coleman.

  =Jeremiah Coleman=, another United States consul who has been
  spirited away by Central American revolutionists in the hope of
  driving a sharp bargain with the United States Government for the
  release of a captured filibuster named James Sixty.

  =Tirzal=, a half-breed mahogany-cutter who serves Jordan in the
  capacity of spy, and who has been a pilot along the coast.

  =Speake, Gaines and Clackett=, part of the crew of the _Grampus_.

  =Cassidy=, mate of the _Grampus_ who, because of a fancied grievance,
  takes the wrong trail at the forks of the road. An old friend whom
  Matt found to be an enemy and then made a friend again.

  =Abner Fingal=, skipper of the notorious schooner, _North Star_, and
  brother of James Sixty, to whose evil nature Motor Matt owes most of
  his present troubles.

  =Captain Nemo, Jr.=, skipper of the submarine, _Grampus_, and who
  falls victim to a sudden illness. Because of the captain's sickness,
  Matt is placed in command of the _Grampus_.

  =Ysabel Sixty=, an old acquaintance who plays an important part in
  the story.




CHAPTER I.

IN THE DEPTHS.


"Motor Matt!"

"What is it, captain?"

"We are in St. George's Bay, ten miles from the Port of Belize, British
Honduras. Two days ago, while we were well out in the gulf, I opened
the letter containing the first part of my sealed orders. Those orders,
as you know, sent us to Belize. Before we reach there and open the
envelope containing the rest of our orders, I think it necessary to
test out the _Grampus_ thoroughly. Unless I am greatly mistaken, the
instructions yet to be read may call for work that will demand the last
ounce of preparation we can give the submarine. I have stopped the
motor, and we are lying motionless on the surface of the sea. The lead
shows that there are two hundred and twenty-five feet of water under
us. The steel shell of the _Grampus_ is warranted to stand the pressure
of water at that depth. Do you follow me?"

"Certainly, captain."

"Now, Matt, I have been watching you for a long time, and I believe
that you know more about the gasoline motor than I do, and fully as
much about maneuvring the submarine. We are going to dive to two
hundred and ten feet--the deepest submersion by far the _Grampus_ ever
made. I wish you to take entire charge. If you get into difficulties,
you must get out of them again, for I intend to stand by and not put
in a word unless tragedy stares us in the face and you call on me for
advice."

A thrill ran through Motor Matt. The submarine, with all her
complicated equipment, was for a time to be under his control. This
move of Captain Nemo, Jr.'s, perhaps, was a test for him no less than
for the _Grampus_.

For a brief space the young motorist bent his head thoughtfully.

"Do you hesitate, Matt?" asked Captain Nemo, Jr.

"Not at all, sir," was the calm answer. "I was just running over in
my mind the things necessary to be done in making such a deep dive.
The pressure at two hundred and ten feet will be terrific. At that
depth, the lid of our hatchway will be supporting a weight of more than
thirty-two tons."

"Exactly," answered the captain, pleased with the way Matt's mind was
going over the work.

"If there happened to be anything wrong with the calculations of the
man who built the _Grampus_, captain, she would be smashed like an egg
shell."

"We are going to prove his calculations." The captain seated himself
on a low stool. "Gaines is at the motor, Clackett is at the submerging
tanks, Speake has charge of the storage batteries and compressed
air, and Cassidy is here in the periscope room with us to drive the
_Grampus_ in any direction you desire."

"Dick Ferral is with Gaines," added Matt, "and Carl Pretzel is with
Clackett."

"Exactly. Every man is at his station, and some of the stations are
double manned. Now, then, go ahead."

Matt whirled to a speaking tube.

"We're going to make a record dive, Clackett," he called into the tube,
"and Captain Nemo, Jr., has placed me in charge----"

"Bully for the captain!" came back the voice of Clackett, echoing
weirdly distinct in the periscope room.

"Hoop-a-la!" bubbled the exultant tones of Matt's Dutch chum. "Der king
oof der modor poys iss der poy for me."

"Our submergence will be two hundred and ten feet," went on Matt. "You
and Carl, Clackett, will put the steel baulks in place. I'll have Dick
and Gaines help you."

Another order was called to the engine room, and presently there
were sounds, forward and aft, which indicated that the metal props,
to further strengthen the steel shell, were being dropped into their
supports.

"Cassidy," said Matt, "see that the double doors of the hatch are
secured."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the mate, darting up the conning-tower ladder.

"Speake," ordered Matt, through another tube, "see that the tension
indicators are in place."

"Double doors of the hatch secured," reported Cassidy a moment later.

"Pressure sponsons in place," came rattling through the tube from
Clackett.

"Tension indicators in position," announced Speake.

"Dive at the rate of twelve yards to the minute, Clackett," ordered
Matt.

A hiss of air, escaping from the ballast tanks as the water came in,
was heard. A tremor ran through the steel fabric, followed by a gentle
downward motion. Matt kept his eyes on the manometric needles. Twenty
yards, twenty-five, thirty, and forty were indicated. A pressure of ten
pounds to the square centimeter was recorded.

"Plates are beginning to bend, captain," called Speake.

This was not particularly alarming, for the baulks would settle down to
their work.

"Close the bulkhead doors, Dick!" called Matt.

"Aye, aye, old ship!" returned Dick, and sounds indicated that the
order was immediately carried out.

"Sixty yards," called Clackett; "sixty-five, seventy----"

"Hold her so!" cried Matt.

"What is the danger point in the matter of flexion, captain?" asked
Matt, turning to Nemo, Jr., whose gray head was bowed forward on his
hand, while his gleaming eyes regarded the cool, self-possessed young
motorist with something like admiration.

"Ten millimeters," was the answer.

"We still have a margin of three millimeters and are at the depth you
indicated."

"Bravo! We are five yards from the bottom. Do a little cruising, Matt.
Let us see how the _Grampus_ behaves at this depth."

The entire shell of the submarine was under an enormous pressure.

Matt gave the order to start the motor, and the popping of the engine
soon settled into a low hum of perfectly working cylinders. A forward
motion was felt by those in the submarine.

"Not many people have ever had the novel experience of navigating the
ocean seventy yards below the surface," remarked the captain, with a
slow smile.

"It's a wonderful thing!" exclaimed Matt. "The _Grampus_ seems equal to
any task you set for her, captain."

The air of the periscope room was being exhausted by the breathing of
Matt, Nemo, Jr., and Cassidy. Matt ordered the bulkhead doors opened,
in order that fresh oxygen might be admitted from the reservoirs. Just
before the doors were opened, Captain Nemo, Jr.'s face had suddenly
paled, and he had swayed on his seat, throwing a hand to his chest.

"You can't stand this, captain!" exclaimed Matt, jumping to the
captain's side. "Hadn't we better ascend?"

The captain collected himself quickly and waved the youth away.

"Never mind me, my lad," he answered. "I feel better, now that a little
fresh oxygen is coming in to us. Go on with your maneuvring."

All was silent in the submarine, save for the croon of the engine,
running as sweetly as any Matt had ever heard. Aside from a faint
oppression in the chest and a low ringing in the ears, the _Grampus_
might have been cruising on the surface, so far as her passengers could
know.

Cassidy was at the wheel, steering, his passive eyes on the compass.

Matt turned away from the manometer with a remark on his lips, but
before the words could be spoken there was a shock, and the submarine
shivered and stopped dead.

"Shiminy grickets!" whooped the voice of Carl. "Ve must haf run indo
vone oof der moundains in der sea."

"Full speed astern, Gaines," cried Matt.

The blades of the propeller revolved fiercely. The steel hull shook and
tugged, but all to no purpose.

Captain Nemo, Jr., sat quietly in his seat and never offered a
suggestion. His steady eyes were on Motor Matt.

The king of the motor boys realized that they were in a terrible
predicament. Suppose they were hopelessly entangled in the ocean's
depths? Suppose there was no escape for them, and the shell of the
_Grampus_ was to be their tomb?

These reflections did not shake the lad's nerve. His face whitened a
little, but a resolute light gleamed in his gray eyes.

"How are the bow plates, Speake?" he demanded through one of the tubes.

Speake was in the torpedo room.

"Right as a trivet!" answered Speake.

After five minutes of violent and useless churning of the screw, Matt
turned to Cassidy. The mate, grave-faced and anxious, was looking at
him and waiting for orders.

"Rig the electric projector, Cassidy," said Matt calmly.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the mate.

When the little searchlight was in position, a gleam was thrown
through one of the forward lunettes out over the bow of the _Grampus_.
Matt, feeling keenly the weight of responsibility that rested on his
shoulders, mounted the iron ladder to the conning tower and looked
through one of the small windows.

To his intense astonishment he found the bottom of the sea pervaded
with a faintly luminous light, perhaps due to some phosphorescence
given off by the marine growth. Through this glow traveled the brighter
gleam of the searchlight.

The _Grampus_ was lying in a dense forest of nodding, moss-covered
stems. The _algae_ of the ocean bed, with its lianes and creeping
growth, twisted all about the submarine, fluttering and waving in the
currents caused by the swiftly revolving propeller.

A gasp escaped Matt's lips, however, when he fixed his attention
forward. For a full minute he stood on the ladder, taking in the weird
and dangerous predicament of the _Grampus_.

Then an exclamation fell from his lips, and he looked down to see
Captain Nemo, Jr., slowly mounting to his side.

"Look!" whispered Matt hoarsely, nodding toward the lunettes.

The captain pressed his eyes against the thick glass and then dropped
back.

"A ship!" he exclaimed. "We have rammed an old Spanish galleon and are
caught in her rotting timbers!"

He looked upward, his startled eyes engaging Matt's, and the two
staring at each other.




CHAPTER II.

OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.


What the captain had said was true. The _Grampus_, cruising in those
great depths, had had the misfortune to hurl herself bodily on into an
ancient wreck.

The wreck, which must have lain for centuries there on the bottom, was
covered with marine growth, yet, nevertheless, seemed wonderfully well
preserved. The high bow and poop, covered with serpent-like lianes and
creeping weeds, were erect in the water, for the galleon lay on an even
keel. The ship's two masts and steep bowsprit had been broken off, and
the decks were a litter of weeds, and shells, and sand.

The _Grampus_, cleaving the heavy submarine growth, had flung her sharp
prow into the galleon's side and was embedded almost to the flagstaff.

The captain and Matt descended silently into the periscope room.

"We jammed into an old wreck, did we?" queried Cassidy, calmly but with
a look on his face which reflected the perturbation of his mind.

"Yes," answered Matt. "Some Spanish ship went down here--perhaps loaded
with treasure for across the sea."

"Hardly loaded with treasure, Matt," spoke up the captain. "This is
the Spanish Main, and the reefs off Honduras offered shelter for many
a pirate in the old days. This galleon, I am inclined to think, was
stripped of her treasure by some buccaneer and sunk. It is too bad that
she was sunk in the course we happened to be taking."

The rack of the useless motor ceased on an order from Matt; in the
deep, death-like silence that intervened, a wail came up from the tank
room.

"Vat's der madder mit us, Matt? Dit ve run indo a cave in der ocean?
Oof ve can't ged oudt vat vill pecome oof us?"

"We ran into an old Spanish ship, Carl," answered Matt, "and we are so
jammed in the side of the hulk that we haven't been able, so far, to
back out."

"Ach, du lieber! Meppy ve von't nefer be aple to pack oudt! Meppy ve
vas down here for keeps, hey? Nexdt dime I go down in some supmarines,
you bed my life I make a vill pefore I shtart."

Carl, white as a sheet and scared, came rolling into the periscope
room. Dick likewise showed up from forward.

"Strike me lucky, old ship," said he, "I hadn't any notion this was to
be our last cruise."

"It's not," answered Matt. "We'll get out of this."

He turned to Captain Nemo, Jr., who was again seated quietly, his calm
eyes on the king of the motor boys.

"The power of the screw, unaided," said the captain, "will not serve to
get us clear of the wreck. What are you going to do, Matt?"

Matt thought for a moment.

"Am I to have my way, captain?" he asked.

"Certainly. I want to see what you