To Tom’s amazement, their leader was Samson Narko!

Chow let out a yelp of rage.  “Why, you sneakin’, double-dyed, bushwhackin’ polecat!” the old Westerner bellowed.  “We shoulda kept you hawg-tied, ‘stead o’ lettin’ you go free!”

Narko ignored the outburst and raised a megaphone to his lips.  “Hand over your cargo and do it quickly!”

“What cargo?” Tom snapped back.  “And what’s the meaning of this outrage?  You realize this is piracy?”

“I realize you will wind up on the bottom at the slightest show of resistance!” Narko warned menacingly.  “You know very well what cargo I refer to!  Now do not try our patience!”

  [Illustration (a submarine attacks the Swiftsure)]

Tom and his crew pretended to put up a blustering, indignant front.  Chow was especially convincing, with a blistering torrent of salty Texas invectives.

Narko’s only response was a barked-out order to his men in Brungarian.  Quickly the enemy submarine maneuvered closer until the two craft were almost chockablock.  Narko and his men then leaped aboard the Swiftsure, armed with sub-machine guns and automatics.

“I’m warning you, Narko—­” Tom began angrily.  But Narko cut the young inventor short by a poke in his ribs with the gun muzzle, then issued orders to two of his men to go below.

Moments later, Exman was being hauled up through the hatch and transferred aboard the raider.  The Americans glared in angry silence.

“Thanks so much, my stupid friends!” Narko taunted them with a jeering laugh.  Then he followed his crewmen as the last one scrambled back to the enemy submarine.

With laughs and waves, they disappeared into its conning tower.  The hatch was clamped shut and the raider promptly submerged.

Tom and his men were amazed, but delighted at not having been taken prisoner along with Exman.  All of them broke into happy chuckles of relief.

“Wow!  That’s what I call fast service!” Bud exclaimed.

“It was sure a blamed sight easier’n I expected,” Chow said.  “Thought fer a while we might end up feedin’ the fishes!”

“You put on a real act, Chow!” Tom said, clapping the stout old cook on the back.  “Well, they’ve taken the bait.  Now let’s hope it pays off—­for us!”

The Americans swarmed below again, closed the hatch, and submerged.  Tom took his time in bringing the jet pumps up to speed.  “Wonder if we should pretend to proceed on course, or turn around and head for home?” he murmured to Hank.

Hank’s reply was cut short by a yell from Hanson at the sonarphone.

“Missile coming, skipper!  Straight at us!”

CHAPTER XVI

A UNIQUE EXPERIMENT

“Bearing?” Tom cried.

“One-seven-five!” Arv Hanson sang out.

Tom gunned his port jet turbine and swung the Swiftsure hard right.  The abrupt turn at high speed sent the craft sideslipping crazily like a skidding race boat.