In the cold and miserable aftermath of the storm, she could count on several chills and fevers and perhaps more serious complaints. Well, she had better waste no time radioing for fresh, supplies.
Quickly she made a list of the drugs which, she knew from earlier experience, she would be needing in the next few days. Then she hurried to the Message Center, and received a second shock.
Two disheartened electronics technicians were toasting their soldering irons on a Primus stove. Around them was a shambles of wires and broken instrument racks, impaled by the branch of a pandanus tree that had come straight through the roof.
"Sorry, Tess," they said. "If we can raise the mainland by the end of the week, it'll be a miracle. We're back to smoke signals, as of now."
Tessie thought that over.
"I can't take any chances," she said. "Well have to send a boat across."
Both technicians laughed bitterly.
"Hadn't you heard!" said one. " Flying Fish is upside down, and all the other boats are in the middle of the island, parked in the trees."
As Tessie absorbed this report—slightly, but only slightly, exaggerated—she felt more helpless than she had ever been since that time Matron had ticked her off as a raw probationer. She could only hope that everyone would keep healthy until communications were restored.
But by evening she had attended to one injured foot that looked gangrenous; and then the Professor, pale and shaky, came to see her.
"Tessie," he said, "you'd better take my temperature. I think I've got a fever."
Before midnight, she was sure that it was pneumonia.
Chapter 19
The news that Professor Kazan was seriously ill, and that there was no way of treating him adequately, caused more dismay than all the damage wrought by the hurricane. And it hit no one harder than Johnny.
Though he had never stopped to think about it, the island had become the home he had never known, and the Professor a replacement for the father he could scarcely remember. Here he had felt the security which he had longed for and unconsciously striven to find. Now that security was threatened because no one could get a message across a hundred miles of sea—in this age when moons and planets talked to one another.
Only a hundred miles! Why, he himself had traveled a greater distance, when he first came to the island…
And with that memory, he suddenly knew, beyond all doubt or argument, exactly what he had to do. Dolphins had brought him as far as Dolphin Island; now they could carry him the rest of the way to the mainland.
He was sure that Susie and Sputnik, taking turns in pulling the surfboard, could get him across that hundred miles of water in less than twelve hours. This would be the pay-off for all the days they had spent together, hunting and exploring along the edge of the reef.
With the two dolphins beside him, he felt absolutely safe in the sea; they knew all his wishes, even without the use of the communicator.
Johnny looked back at some of the trips they had made together. With Susie towing Mick's large board, and Sputnik towing Johnny on a smaller one, they had once crossed to the adjacent reef on Wreck Island, which was about ten miles away. The journey had taken just over an hour—and the dolphins had not been hurrying.
But how could he convince anyone that this was not a crazy, suicidal stunt? Only Mick would understand. The other islanders would certainly stop him if they had any idea what he was planning. Well, he would have to get away before they knew.
Mick's reaction was just what he had expected. He took the plan perfectly seriously, but was not at all happy about it
"I'm sure it can be done," he said. "But you can't go by yourself."
Johnny shook his head.
"I've thought of that," he answered. For the first time in his life, he felt glad that he was small. "Remember those races we've had? How many have you won? You're too big—
you'd only slow us down."
That was perfectly true, and Mick could not deny it. Even the more powerful Susie could not tow him as fast as Sputnik could tow Johnny.
Defeated on this point, Mick tried a new argument
"It's over twenty-four hours since we've been cut off from the mainland. Before long, someone's bound to fly over to see what's happened, since they've had no word from us.
You may risk your neck for nothing."
"That's true," admitted Johnny. "But whose neck is more important—mine or Professor Kazan's? If we keep on waiting, it may be too late. Besides, they'll be pretty busy on the mainland after that storm. It may be a week before they work around to us."
"Tell you what" said Mick. "We'll get organized, and if there's no sign of help and the Professor's still bad by the time you're ready to go, then we'll talk it over again."
"You won't speak to anyone?" said Johnny anxiously.
"Of course not. By the way, where are Susie and Sputnik? Are you sure you can find them?"
"Yes—they were around the jetty earlier this morning, looking for us. They'll come quickly enough when I push the HELP! button.""
Mick began to count items off on his fingers.
"You'll want a flask of water—one of those flat plastic ones—some concentrated food, a compass, your usual diving gear—I can't think of anything else. Oh, a flashlight—you won't be able to do'the whole trip in the daytime."
"I was going to leave around midnight, then I'll have the Moon for the first half of the way, and I'll hit the coast during daylight."
"You seem to have worked it out pretty well," said Mick with grudging admiration. He still hoped that the attempt would be unnecessary and that something would turn up. But if it did not, he would do all that he could to launch Johnny toward the distant mainland.
Because both boys, like everyone else on the island, had to help with urgent repair work, they could do little until nightfall. Even after darkness came, there were some jobs that continued by the soft light of kerosene lanterns, and it was not until very late in the evening that Johnny and Mick were able to complete their arrangements.
Luckily, no one saw them as they brought the little surfboard down to the harbor and launched it among the overturned and shattered boats. Equipment and harness were all attached. Only the dolphins were needed now— and the final, unavoidable reason for going.
Johnny handed the communicator bracelet to Mick.
"See if you can call them," he said. "I'm running up to the hospital. I won't be more than ten minutes."
Mick took the bracelet and waded out into deeper water. The fluorescent letters were clearly visible on the tiny keyboard, but he did not need them, for, like Johnny, he could use the instrument blindfolded.
He sank down into the warm, liquid darkness and lay on the coral sand. For a moment he hesitated; if he wished, there was still time to stop Johnny. Suppose he did nothing with the communicator and then said that the dolphins had never turned up? The chances were that they wouldn't come, anyway.
No, he could not deceive his friend, even in a good cause, even to save him from risking his life. He could only hope that when Johnny called at the hospital he would hear that the Professor was now out of danger.
Wondering if he would be sorry for this all his life, Mick pressed the HELP! button and heard the faint buzzing in the darkness. He waited fifteen seconds, then pressed it again
—and again.
For his part, Johnny had no doubts. As he followed the beam of his flashlight up the beach and along the path to the administration center, he knew that he might be setting foot on Dolphin Island for the very last time; that, indeed, he might not live to see another sunrise. This was a burden which few boys of his age had had to bear, but he accepted it willingly. He did not think of himself as a hero; he was merely doing his plain duty. He had been happy here on the island and had found a way of life that gave him everything he needed. If he wanted to preserve that way of life, he would now have to fight for it—and, if necessary, risk losing it.
The small hospital building, in which he himself ha
d wakened as a sunburned castaway a year ago, was completely silent. Curtains were drawn on all the windows except one, from which streamed the yellow light of a kerosene lamp. Johnny could not help glancing into the brightly illuminated room; it was the office, and Nurse Tessie was sitting at her desk. She was writing in a large register, or diary, and she looked completely exhausted. Several times she put her hands to her eyes, and Johnny was shaken to realize that she had been crying. The knowledge that this huge, capable woman had been reduced to tears was proof enough that the situation was desperate.
Perhaps, he thought with a sudden sinking of his heart, he was already too late.
It was not as bad as that, though it was bad enough.
Nurse cheered up a little, putting on her professional face when he knocked softly and entered the office. She would probably have thrown out anyone else who bothered her at this time of night, but she had always had a soft spot in her heart for Johnny.
"He's very ill," she said in a whisper. "With the right drugs, I could clear it up in a few hours. But as it is…" She shrugged her massive shoulders helplessly, then added, "It's not only the Professor; I've two other patients who should have antitetanus shots."
"If we don't get help," whispered Johnny, "do you think he'll pull through?"
She did not answer; her silence was enough, and Johnny waited no longer. Luckily, she was too tired to notice that he did not say goodnight but good-by.
When Johnny got back to the beach, he found that Susie was already harnessed to the surfboard, and Sputnik was waiting patiendy beside her.
"They got here in five minutes," said Mick. "Gave me a fright, too, when they came up in the darkness—I wasn't expecting them so soon."
Johnny stroked the two wetly gleaming bodies, and the dolphins rubbed affectionately against him. He wondered where and how they had ridden out the storm, for he could not imagine any creature surviving in the seas that must have raged around the island.
There was a cut behind Sputnik's dorsal fin that had not been there before, but otherwise neither dolphin seemed any the worse for its experience.
Water flask, compass, flashlight, sealed food container, flippers, face mask, snorkel, communicator—Johnny checked them all. Then he said, "Thanks for everything, Mick
—I'll be back soon."
"I still wish I could go with you," Mick answered huskily.
"There's nothing to worry about," said Johnny, though he no longer felt quite so sure.
"Sputnik and Susie will look after me, won't you?" He could think of no more to say, so he climbed onto the board, called "Let's go," and waved to the disconsolate Mick as Susie pulled him out to sea.
He had made it just in time, for he could see lanterns moving down the beach. As he slipped away into the night, he felt sorry that he had left Mick to face the music.
Perhaps from this very beach, a century and a half ago, Mary Watson had set off in her ill-fated bid for rescue, floating in that tiny iron box with her baby and dying servant.
How strange it was that in this age of spaceships and atomic energy and colonies on the planets, he should be doing almost the same thing, from the same island!"
Yet perhaps it was not so strange, after all. If he had never heard of her example, he might not have been inspired to repeat it. And if he succeeded, she would not have died in vain, on that lonely reef forty miles to the north.
Chapter 20
Johnny was content to let the dolphins do all the navigating until he was well clear of the reef. Their wonderful sonar system, filling the dark sea with echoes beyond his hearing, told them exactly where they were. It revealed to them all the obstacles and all the larger fish for a hundred feet around. Millions of years before men invented radar, dolphins (as well as bats) had perfected it in almost every detail. True, they used sound waves and not radio waves, but the principle was the same.
The sea was choppy, but not too rough. Sometimes spray would break over him, and occasionally the board would nose down into a wave, but most of the time he skimmed comfortably across the surface. It was difficult to judge his speed in the darkness. When he switched on his flashlight, the water seemed to be racing past him at a tremendous rate, but he knew that it could not be much more than ten miles an hour.
Johnny looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes had already passed, and when he glanced back, there was no sign of the island. He had expected to see a few lights, but even these were gone. Already he was miles from land, racing through the night on a mission that would have terrified him only a year ago. Yet he was unafraid—or at least he could control his fears, for he knew that he was with friends who would protect him from harm.
It was time he set his course. Navigation was no problem. If he traveled even approximately west, he was bound to hit somewhere on the thousands of miles of Australian coastline, sooner or later. When he glanced at his compass, he saw, to his surprise, that there was no need to make any change of direction. Susie was already on course, heading due west
It was the clearest and most direct proof of her intelligence that he had ever received.
Mick's "HELP!" signal had been enough. There was no need to point to the one direction in which help could be found; she already knew it, as she probably knew every inch of the Queensland coastline.
But was she traveling as swiftly as she could? Johnny wondered whether to leave that to her, or whether to impress upon her the urgency of the mission. Finally he decided that it would do no harm to press the FAST button.
He felt the board jerk slightly when he did so, but he could not tell whether there had been any appreciable increase in speed. The hint should be sufficient. He was sure now that Susie knew exactly what she was doing and was operating at her best cruising speed. If he insisted that she go faster, she would only tire herself.
The night was very dark, for the moon had not yet risen, and low clouds left behind by the storm hid almost all the stars. Even the usual phosphorescence of the sea was absent; perhaps the luminous creatures of the deep were still recovering from the impact of the hurricane and would not shine again until they had got over their shock. Johnny would have welcomed their gentle radiance, for there were moments when he felt scared by this headlong race through pitch-black darkness. Suppose a huge wave—-or even a rock
—was rearing up invisibly ahead of him as he skimmed along with his nose only three inches from the water? Despite his faith in Susie, these fears crept up on him from time to time, and he had to fight them down.
It was a wonderful moment when he saw the first pale glow of moonrise in the east. The clouds were still thick, but though he could not see the Moon itself, its reflected light began to grow around him. It was too faint to show any details; but merely to see the horizon made a great difference to his peace of mind. Now he could tell with his own eyes that there were no rocks or reefs ahead. Susie's underwater senses were far keener than his straining vision, but at least he was no longer completely helpless.
Now that they were in deeper water, the annoying, choppy wavelets over which the board had bumped at the beginning of its journey had been left behind. Instead, they were skimming across long, rolling waves, hundreds of feet from crest to crest. It was hard to judge their height; from Johnny's prone position, they doubtless seemed much bigger than they really were. Half the time, Susie would be climbing up a long, gentle slope; then the board would hover for an instant on the summit of the moving hill of water; then there would be the swoop down into the valley—then the whole sequence would begin again. Johnny had long since learned to adjust himself to the climb and the swoop, shifting his weight automatically along the board. Like riding a bicycle, he did it without conscious thought.
Suddenly the Moon's waning crescent broke through the clouds. For the first time, Johnny could see the miles of rolling water arould him, the great waves marching endlessly into the night. Their crests gleamed like silver in the moonlight, making their troughs all the blacker by contrast. The surfboard's dive down i
nto the dark valleys and its slow climb to the peaks of the moving hills were a continual switching from night to day, day to night.
Johnny looked at his watch; he had been traveling about four hours. That meant, with any luck, forty miles, and it also meant that dawn could not be far away. That would help him to fight off sleep. Twice he had dozed, fallen off the board, and found himself spluttering in the sea. It was not a pleasant feeling, floating there in the darkness while he waited for Susie to circle back and pick him up.
Slowly the eastern sky lightened. As he looked back, waiting for the first sight of the sun, Johnny remembered the dawn he had watched from the wreckage of the Santa Anna. How helpless he had felt then, and how mercilessly the tropical sun had burned him! Now he was calm and confident, though he had reached the point of no return, with fifty miles of sea separating him from land in either direction. And the sun could no longer harm him, for it had already tanned his skin a deep golden brown.
The swift sunrise shouldered away the night, and as he felt the warmth of the new day on his back, Johnny pressed the STOP button. It was time to give Susie a rest and a chance to go hunting for her breakfast. He slipped off the surfboard, swam forward, loosened her harness—and away she went, jumping joyfully in the air as she was released. There was no sign of Sputnik; he was probably chasing fish somewhere else, but would come quickly enough when he was called.
Johnny pushed up his face mask, which he had worn all night to keep the spray out of his eyes, and sat astride the gently rocking board. A banana, two meat rolls, and a sip of orange juice was all he needed to satisfy him; the rest could wait until later in the day.
Even if everything went well, he still had five or six hours of traveling ahead of him.
He let the dolphins have a fifteen-minute break while he relaxed on the board, rising and falling in the swell of the waves. Then he pressed the call button and waited for them to return.
After five minutes, he began to get a little worried. In that time they could swim three miles; surely they had not gone so far away? Then he relaxed as he saw a familiar dorsal fin cutting through the water toward him.
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