03 Underwater Adventure

by Willard Price

  The seeming plants were hard to the touch, for most of them were really coral. Here was crown coral, a crown that any king would be proud to wear - cup coral looking like a golden goblet - lacework coral that appeared to be as fragile as a cobweb but was made of tough stone - leather coral like an old saddle - organpipe coral that stood up in graceful columns. Tall sea whips waved back and forth. The explorers kept their hands off the thistle coral and the prickly alcyonia. Most especially they avoided the brilliant fire coral which could give you a rash as bad as a case of nettlerash.

  Dr Blake stopped beside a large sea anemone. It looked like a big chrysanthemum, except that its dozens of pink tentacles did not remain still like the petals of a flower but kept constantly moving, reaching out for food.

  If a fish or shrimp should rub up against those tentacles, something very strange would happen. In each tentacle were little threads like lassos that would be thrown out to grip the victim and paralyse it with poison.

  Then the tentacles would draw the dinner into the waiting mouth.

  But among the tentacles swam some tiny gold-and-black clown fish. They did not seem in the least afraid of the stinging lassos. They acted as if they were on completely friendly terms with the sea anemone. They passed close to the open mouth without harm.

  Each of the hunters carried a net, without pole, tucked in his belt. Dr Blake now removed his net, cast it over the anemone and pulled the prize loose from its coral rock. He swam upward with it, gesturing to the others to follow. Reaching the deck, he made the flower of the sea at home in a small tank.

  Three little clown fish which had taken refuge in the mouth of the sea anemone presently emerged and swam about among the tentacles.

  ‘If the anemone gets hungry,’ Roger said, ‘it can eat those little fish first.’

  Dr Blake smiled. ‘It will never do that, no matter how hungry it gets.’

  Roger was incredulous. ‘Why is that?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll show you. Bring me some angleworms.’

  Roger went to the bait locker and brought a box of fat juicy worms. Dr Blake dropped one of them into the tank on the far side from the anemone.

  At once one of the clown fish swam over to the worm and gripped it in his mouth. But instead of swallowing the morsel, the fish swam back and delivered it to the anemone. The tentacles clutched the worm, the poison stopped its violent squirmings, and it was passed into the anemone’s mouth.

  ‘But what does the clown get out of it?’ Roger inquired.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Presently the clown fish that had brought the worm disappeared into the mouth of the anemone.

  ‘He likes his food predigested. He’ll go right on back into the stomach where the anemone’s meal is being broken down by the stomach juices, and he will eat as much as he pleases.’

  ‘But won’t he be digested too?’

  ‘No. He’ll come out just as frisky as when he went in.

  There he comes now.’ The little clown emerged, looking quite whole and happy.

  ‘And watch the other clowns,’ Blake advised. The two other fish were nibbling at the edges of the tentacles. ‘They clean off the dirt and parasites. They keep their Aunt Anemone in good health. They even air-condition her. The fanning of their fins changes and purifies the sea water among the tentacles.’

  ‘They help each other,’ Hal said, ‘like the pilot fish and the shark.’

  ‘Right. And there are many other cases of the same sort of thing. The moray eel has a little companion that is allowed to enter its mouth. A rock fish has an attendant to pick off its parasites. Sometimes you will see a parrotfish balancing itself upright in the water while a certain small fish cleans its scales. And you probably know how the crocodile allows the crocodile bird to enter its open mouth and pick leeches and other parasites from its jaws. Nature is full of examples of teamwork. It’s a pretty good lesson for men, isn’t it?’ He smiled at Skink.

  But Skink wasn’t accepting any show of friendliness. ‘What is this, a sermon?’ he grunted.

  ‘It’s whatever you care to make it, Inkham. Your inability to get on with others is going to make a mess of your life. I don’t like to see it happen. But let’s get back into the sea. I expect each man to bring up something interesting today.’

  They sank again into the submarine forest and at once Hal saw something interesting. It was a fish that seemed to have no body. It appeared to consist of nothing but a large square head and two pop eyes. On the back of the head was a small tail.

  It moved slowly and Hal was able to catch it with his hand. But now a remarkable change took place. The fish began swallowing water and with every gulp it increased in size. It was swelling up like a balloon. Hal had to use both hands to hold the growing ball.

  Pins and needles seemed to be sticking into his hands. He saw that spines that before this had lain flat against the skin were now sticking out in all directions like the quills on a porcupine.

  He remembered that he had seen one of these things in a museum. It was a hedgehog fish. He could not hold on any longer so he whipped out his net, put the pancake that had become a football into it, and took it to the surface.

  Going down again, he saw another marvel of a quite different sort. At first he thought it was only a reflection or a shadow, for the thing was so transparent he could see straight through it. It was a big thing, six feet long, and it was crawling over the floor of the lagoon. He had no idea what it was. He was to learn later from Dr Blake that it was a sea lizard.

  For a while it was only a pale white like dirty window glass. Then it took on some pastel colours, yellow, green and pink.

  It looked as if you could poke your finger straight through it, but when Hal tried he found it was quite solid. When he touched it the thing threw out long sticky threads that clung to his fingers. He took his hand away and tried to wipe it clean on the sand, but the gooey mess would not come off.

  Hall’s net was too small for this big fellow. He went up, got another one, and came down again. He saw that in the meantime the creature had swallowed some small fish. They were plainly visible, flapping about inside the stomach of the beast.

  This was certainly a novelty that any zoo or laboratory would be glad to have. Hal trapped it easily in the big net It had looked so light and airy that he was surprised to find how heavy it was as he towed it up to the surface and hoisted it on deck and into a tank with the help of his friend Omo.

  Dr Blake came up dragging an enormous sponge. It was fully five feet long,

  ‘I didn’t know they ever came that big,’ Hal said.

  ‘Most kinds don’t. But this is a very special sort, worthy of the king of the sea himself. It’s named after him, Neptune’s horn. I suppose that’s because it’s shaped like a gigantic trumpet.’

  ‘Did you see my catch?’ Hal pointed into the tank where the sea lizard lay.

  Blake looked in. ‘But this tank is empty.’

  Hal laughed. ‘Look again. Right down in that corner.’

  Blake shaded his eyes against the sun and looked. ‘Well I’ll be … A sea lizard! Do you know that’s a very rare specimen? This is the first one I’ve ever seen alive. Congratulations, Hunt. You’re a real animal man, and no mistake. Wish I had a dozen like you.’

  In the meantime Roger was getting into trouble. Thanks to Skink.-

  They stood on the lagoon floor beside a group of corals. Roger was taking his instructions from the more experienced collector.

  Skink pointed out the best corals and Roger put them into his net. A gorgonia was indicated, and plucked. Then a mushroom coral. Then a star coral.

  Then Skink pointed out a red-and-grey object that

  looked much like the coral rocks around it. The boy reached for it, but some instinct made him draw back his hand at the last moment.

  He looked more closely. The thing did not move and looked like a rough stone overgrown with bits of weed. It was about a foot long and there was a hole in one end of it.r />
  Skink was gesturing him to take it. But Roger was not as ignorant as Skink supposed. He had seen photographs of this thing and had listened open-mouthed to the natives of these islands who feared this creature more than anything else in the sea.

  It was a stonefish, so called because it looked like a stone. It seemed harmless enough. But if Roger had put his hand on it the thirteen spines along the backbone would have pierced his flesh. Each was equipped with two poison glands.

  The poison was as virulent as that of a cobra, as deadly as the venom on the tip of a head-hunter’s arrow.

  His flesh would have promptly turned dark blue. Within three hours his arm would be swollen to the shoulder. Within ten hours he would be delirious and running a high fever.

  Victims of the stonefish suffered such agony that they tried to amputate their own limbs. They became insane, striking out at anyone who came near them. Many died within twelve hours, their muscles knotted and twisted with the pain and their faces so distorted that their friends could hardly recognize them.

  The Polynesians called the creature The Waiting One. French settlers on the islands had a more terrible name for it, La Mort or The Death. Even the scientists could not be calm when they described it, and had named it Horrida, Roger’s first impulse was to leave the thing severely alone. But it would make a good specimen, if he could only get it up without being stung by it.

  He took a broken piece of pipe coral and, using it as a stick, poked the stonefish out on to the open sand. Then he scooped it up in his net along with the corals. The imprisoned fish struggled to get out through the meshes of the net. Its poisonous spines protruded between the strands.

  As Roger lifted the net, Skink lurched back in fear of being touched by it. He gave his fins a flip and disappeared among the sea trees.

  But Roger did not go at once to the surface with his quarry, for he had noticed something else. It was a round, flat object with a very small tail. It lay on the bottom almost covered with sand.

  ‘A sting ray,’ thought Roger, and looked for the poisonous barb that the sting ray carries just where the body joins the tail.

  There was no barb. Then this must be a harmless variety of ray.

  He took a second net from his belt. He would grab the ray by the tail and drop it into the net.

  But when he touched the tail he got a violent shock. The thing must be an electric ray, or torpedo. This fish contains a battery that generates and stores electricity. The creature can turn on and off the charge at will. It delivers a jolt that can paralyse and kill a good-sized fish, but is not fatal to man.

  Roger had touched the tail only lightly, but it felt as if a dozen needles jumped into his hand. Now, though the stinging sensation had passed away, his hand and arm felt numb. Now he understood another common name for the electric ray. It was sometimes called the numb-fish.

  He wangled the ray into the second net.

  He was about to go up with the two nets when a mischievous plan came into his mind. He thought of the devilish trick Skink had tried to play on him. The fellow deserved a good scare, and Roger believed he could deliver it.

  He left the net containing the stonefish and coral to be brought up later. Holding the netted torpedo at a safe distance from his body, he swam in search of Skink.

  Behind a giant coral toadstool he found him. Skink was bending over, rear end upward, as he explored a cavity in the coral.

  Roger edged up behind him without being noticed. He swung the torpedo hard against Skink’s thigh just below the edge of his bathing trunks.

  Skink straightened up with a yell that blew out his mouthpiece. He clapped his hand to his thigh and looked around. He saw Roger and the net, and supposing that the net contained the deadly stonefish, he struck out frantically for the surface. Roger followed and managed to land another whack of the torpedo on the flying legs.

  Hal and Dr Blake on deck were startled to hear wild cries of ‘Help! Help! I’ve been murdered!’ and jumped to the rail to see a half-crazy Skink, clinging to the ladder, gargling sea water, burbling and babbling something about having been stung by a stonefish.

  They hauled him up. Screaming and twisting, he dropped in a heap on the deck. Roger climbed aboard, keeping his net and its contents out of sight.

  ‘Quick!’ screamed Skink. ‘Take me to the hospital. I’m dying! The kid. He rammed me with a stonefish.’

  He clutched his thigh. ‘I’ll go crazy with the pain. Fm going crazy now!’

  Dr Blake pulled aside the clutching hand. ‘Let me have a look.’ He examined the area carefully. ‘There’s no sign of any puncture. And the flesh isn’t blue. Aren’t you mistaken in your diagnosis?’

  ‘You want me to die!’ bawled Skink. ‘I tell you, get me to the hospital. Oh, oh, the pain! I can’t stand it’ He was blubbering like a baby.

  ‘Calm down,’ said Dr Blake. ‘Think it over - are you really in pain? Or are you imagining something?’

  The kid tried to kill me. I helped him get a stonefish. Then he struck me with it. I have just a little while to live. I’m getting delirious now.’ He began to grovel about the deck.

  Dr Blake seized him by the shoulders and pulled him up into a sitting position. He shook him smartly. ‘Snap out of it, Inkham! Now tell me - do you really feel anything?’

  Skink wore a puzzled expression. He put his hand behind him and felt himself. ‘Well,’ he said defensively, ‘I did when it struck. It felt like a thousand needles. But,’ he looked more bewildered, T guess I didn’t really feel it after that.’ A new look of horror came into his face. ‘But do you know what that means? I’m paralysed. That’s why I have no feeling.’ He tried to move his leg. ‘See? It’s numb from the hip down. I can’t feel a thing.’

  ‘Not even this?’ and Dr Blake gave the leg a good pinch.

  ‘Never felt it.’

  It was Dr Blake’s turn to be worried. He looked at Roger, who was holding his net behind him.

  What do you know about this, Roger?’

  ‘He’s right, there was a stonefish…’ Roger began.

  ‘You see?’ yelled Skink. ‘Now will you get me to that hospital? Or do you want me to die here?’

  ‘He tried to get me to grab it,’ Roger went on. ‘I got it in my net. Then I caught this in my other net.’ He brought the torpedo into view. T smacked him with it and he thought he was getting a taste of the stonefish. He was so scared, he swam up within ten feet of a big shark and never noticed it.’

  Skink staggered to his feet and advanced upon Roger. ‘So you had your fun, did you? Now I’m going to have some fun. I’m going to give myself the pleasure of tearing you apart.’ But his stiff leg refused to work and he pitched forward on the deck. ‘I’m paralysed,’ he whined.

  ‘That numbness will pass off in a few minutes,’ said Dr Blake. ‘And don’t take it out on Roger. You had it coming. In fact, I don’t think you got half what you deserved.’ He took the net from Roger and held the torpedo up for inspection. ‘It’s a dandy. Here’s a tank that will just suit it.’

  Roger slid into the water and presently reappeared with the other net. Dr Blake was greatly pleased with the stonefish. ‘There are many varieties and this is one of the rarest,’ he said.

  ‘The shark is still hanging around,’ Roger said. ‘There he is.’ Fifty feet out from the ship two fins cut the surface. Beneath them could be seen the slate-blue back of the fish.

  ‘Looks like a mako shark,’ Blake said. ‘It probably won’t bother us if we don’t bother it. I don’t want the shark. But there’s something I would like to have - that turtle. It’s a hawksbill and a beauty.’

  The turtle was swimming lazily on the surface off the starboard bow.

  Hal was preparing to jump in. ‘No use swimming after it,’ Blake said. ‘It can go faster than we can. It can outrace most fish, when it really wants to.’

  ‘Could we catch it with the motorboat?’ Roger asked.

  ‘No, it would just dive out of reach. I’m afraid we’ll hav
e to pass it up.’

  Omo quit his job of splicing a halyard and came forward a little timidly. He was an excellent diver, but on this expedition he was supposed to act as crewman and cook while others took care of the diving.

  ‘If you don’t mind my trying,’ he said, ‘perhaps I could get the turtle for you. We have a way in the islands.’

  ‘The field is all yours,’ Blake said. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘First I’ll pay a visit to that shark.’

  Without snorkel or aqualung, Omo slid soundlessly into the lagoon and swam down. They could see his brown figure pass under the shark. Suddenly the shark gave a startled thrust of his tail and swam away. Omo returned to the ship carrying something in his hand. He climbed on deck.

  He held a remora. On the top of its head was the flat suction plate that it used to fasten itself to the hide of a shark. The remora will cling just as readily to certain other kinds of fish, or to a turtle.

  Omo tied the end of a line through the gill and mouth of the fish. Then he went to the bow and spotted the turtle which was now about sixty feet off and getting farther away every minute. Omo took the free end of the line and made it fast to the rail. He hurled the fish far out so that it fell within a few yards of the turtle.

  The remora lay motionless in the water, as if collecting its senses. Then it swam straight to the hawksbill and fastened itself to the big carapace.

  Omo began to haul in on the line, gently, fearing to break the remora’s hold. But it proved to be firmly glued to the shell. The turtle, sensing that something was wrong, suddenly put on speed. Its flippers beat the water in vain.

  It tried diving. Omo let it go, but kept a drag on the line. As the turtle tired, he gradually drew it in.

  A net was lowered until it lay a few feet below the surface. The turtle was manoeuvred over the net, and hoisted aboard.

  Omo beamed, and everybody else cheered, except the sulky Skink.

  ‘I learn something new every day!’ exclaimed Dr Blake. ‘We think we’re so smart with all our modern gear, but we can take lessons from island boys who never saw a snorkel or an aqualung.’