Motor Matt's Close Call; or, The Snare of Don Carlos — Reading Companion

Whispered Commands and Silent Signals

Matthews builds tension through a vocabulary of restraint. In the excerpt, characters speak in hushed tones: “don’t make a noise—please,” “we can’t use firearms, for they make too much noise.” The word “whispered” appears repeatedly, reinforcing the need for stealth. The author also uses gestures as shorthand for complex plans: “Matt lifted a warning finger,” “motioned for Dick and Clackett to come closer.” These non-verbal cues replace longer explanations, keeping the pace brisk. The dialogue itself is functional—characters state facts (“Pedro is bound and gagged”) or give orders (“Stand ready for him”). There is little banter or reflection; every line advances the plot. This economy of language mirrors the submarine’s cramped quarters, where space and time are both limited.

The Mechanics of Capture

The author structures the capture sequence as a series of mechanical steps. First, Ysabel volunteers to lure the guards one at a time. Then Matt assigns roles: “Get ropes, boys… stand ready for some swift and noiseless work.” The plan is executed with precision—Fingal descends the ladder, Matt springs at his throat, and the others seize his arms. Matthews emphasizes the physicality of the struggle: “Fingal was a big fellow,” “crushing embrace of his huge arms.” Yet the focus remains on the process, not the emotion. The word “maneuvre” (misspelled as “maneuvre” in the text) signals that this is a tactical operation, not a brawl. The author even notes the angle of Fingal’s gaze (“kept his gaze upward”) to explain why the ambush succeeds. This attention to spatial detail gives the action a choreographed feel.

Recurring Motifs: Ropes, Bolts, and Tubes

Several physical objects recur as plot devices. Ropes are used to bind Pedro and later prepared for the card players. The torpedo tube serves as an escape route for Gaines, who “got out through the torpedo tube, half an hour ago.” The bolt on the torpedo-room door is mentioned as easily slid open. These mechanical details ground the adventure in tangible constraints. Matthews also uses the submarine’s layout—ladder, conning tower, periscope room—to create a three-dimensional stage. Characters move “forward,” “aft,” and “up the ladder,” reinforcing the vertical and horizontal axes of the vessel. The author does not explain how a submarine works; instead, he treats it as a familiar environment, trusting readers to follow the spatial logic.

Ysabel Sixty: A Loyalist in Action

Ysabel Sixty stands out for her active role in the rescue. She does not wait to be saved; she proposes the decoy plan: “I’ll go up the ladder… and say that Pedro wants one of them.” She also provides the revolver, handing it to Matt with the words “Here is Pedro’s revolver—take it.” Her dialogue is direct and unflinching: “This is only the beginning, Motor Matt.” Matthews describes her with “cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes bright as stars,” but her actions are what define her. She “glided to the ladder” and later “drew away fearfully” at Fingal’s arrival, yet she does not flee. The author balances her fear with competence, making her a credible ally rather than a damsel in distress. Her loyalty is stated in the character list, but the excerpt shows it through deeds.

Readers approaching Motor Matt’s Close Call should attend to how Matthews uses physical space and constrained dialogue to generate suspense. The submarine setting is not merely a backdrop but an active constraint on the characters’ options. Notice how often the author specifies who is standing where, who can see whom, and what objects are at hand. These details are not filler; they are the machinery of the plot. The story rewards close attention to its mechanics.

I’ve often thought Motor Matt’s Close Call shares a breathless pulse with the old war chronicle, With the Allies to Pekin: A Tale of the Relief of the Legations — Reading Companion — both trusting the short, half-spoken sentence and the sudden scuffle to tell what words cannot. Each page feels like a held breath, released only when the danger passes.