way, was a great warship, flying a flag
which, in a moment. Tom recognized as that of Brazil. The cruiser was
lying off a small island, and all about were small boats, filled with
natives, who seemed to be bringing supplies from land to the ship. At
the unexpected sight of the submarine, bobbing up from the bottom of
the ocean, the natives uttered cries of fright. The attention of those
on the warship was attracted, and the bridge and rails were lined with
curious officers and men.

"It's a good thing we didn't come up under that ship," observed Tom.
"They would have thought we were trying to torpedo her. Do you feel
better, dad?" he asked, his wonder over the sight of the big vessel
temporarily eclipsed in his anxiety for his parent.

"Oh, yes, much better. I'm all right now. But I wish we hadn't
disclosed ourselves to these people. They may demand to know where we
are going, and Brazil is too near Uruguay to make it safe to tell our
errand. They may guess it, however, from having read of the wreck, and
our departure."

"Oh, I guess it will be all right," replied Captain Weston. "We can
tell them we are on a pleasure trip. That's true enough. It would give
us great pleasure to find that gold."

"There's a boat, with some officers in it, to judge by the amount of
gold lace on them, putting off from the ship," remarked Mr. Sharp.

"Ha! Yes! Evidently they intend to pay us a formal visit," observed Mr.
Damon. "Bless my gaiters, though. I'm not dressed to receive company. I
think I'll put on my dress suit."

"It's too late," advised Tom. "They'll be here in a minute."

Urged on by the lusty arms of the Brazilian sailors, the boat,
containing several officers, neared the floating submarine rapidly.

"Ahoy there!" called an officer in the bow, his accent betraying his
unfamiliarity with the English language. "What craft are you?"

"Submarine, Advance, from New Jersey," replied Tom. "Who are you?"

"Brazilian cruiser San Paulo," was the reply. "Where are you bound?"
went on the officer.

"On pleasure," answered Captain Weston quickly. "But why do you ask? We
are an American ship, sailing under American colors. Is this Brazilian
territory?"

"This island is--yes," came back the answer, and by this time the small
boat was at the side of the submarine. Before the adventurers could
have protested, had they a desire to do so, there were a number of
officers and the crew of the San Paulo on the small deck.

With a