by John Blaine
The snorkels used by the boys were plastic tubes curved at both ends. At one end was a mouthpiece; at the other was a cage that held a rubber ball. A dive or rough wave action floated the ball upward, closing the tube and preventing water entry. Rick and Scotty adjusted the rubber bands of their snorkels around their heads above the mask straps.
Scotty was ready. He slipped his mask into place, molded the soft rubber skirt of the mask to the contours of his face, inhaled through his nose to make sure the seal was
airtight,then called, “Let’s go!” He gripped the mouthpiece of his snorkel between his teeth, the rubber flange under his lips, and slid into the water.
Rick was right behind him. As his mask touched water he saw the white coral sand of the bottom a few inches down. The only sign of life was a hermit crab, perhaps a half inch in length, dragging his home of the moment-a tiny spiral shell.
In one hand, Scotty carried the spear gun by its pistol grip. He swam in the position that suited him best, both arms hanging limply down. Rick, on the other hand, preferred to swim with arms relaxed along his sides, as long as his hands were empty. When carrying a spear gun or his camera, he also swam with arms hanging downward. Neither boy used his arms for swimming. The rhythmic, powerful leg strokes were enough, thanks to the swim fins.
The water deepened rapidly but lost none of its clarity. Even at a depth of a dozen feet, Rick thought, he could have counted every grain of sand. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. At home, visibility of five feet was considered good. Lost in the enjoyment of really clear water, he completely forgot about the shadow.
Scotty reminded him. He touched Rick’s arm and signaled a stop. The boys removed their snorkel mouthpieces and faced each other upright in the water, holding position with easy flipper movements.
“Just pretend we’re talking,” Scotty said. “Don’t look around. I’m trying to spot our friend over your shoulder.” After a moment he shook his head. “No sign. Wonder if he ran for a bathing suit?”
“Forget him. Let’s swim. See any coral heads?”
“Darker water off yonder.Let’s look.”
They readjusted their snorkels and headed in the direction Scotty had indicated.
Rick breathed easily through his tube, constantly scanning the bottom. Now and then he saw various kinds of debris on the bottom, including abandoned beer cans and a section of newspaper that had not yet rotted away. Rubbish like this was to be expected in a harbor, he supposed, still it was as unattractive to a swimmer as junk along the roadside is to the motorist.
Suddenly he noticed a fish-the first he had seen. He took a deep breath and dove by letting his head drop and then lifting his legs to a nearly vertical position. He slid underwater without a splash. When his fins were below the surface he started his leg
motion again, and the flippers propelled him smoothly downward.
The fish was perhaps a foot long, silvery, with a pointed nose and yellowfins . Rick couldn’t identify it. The fish was busily rooting in the sand for morsels of food and paid no attention to the diver until Rick reached out and almost touched it,then it sped just beyond reach and commenced rooting again.
His curiosity satisfied for the moment, Rick surfaced and rejoined Scotty. As he took position at his friend’s side, the other boy hooted once, their signal for “attention.” The hooting was done by making a kind of “hooty” groan into the snorkel mouthpiece, about the only sound that could be made without letting water pass the lips. Because water conducted sound so well, the hoot could be heard clearly some distance away.
Rick lifted his face from the water and saw that Scotty was pointing to an area a short distance to their right. He followed Scotty’s lead and saw the reason for the signal. It was a rocky, coral-covered area about thirty feet square and perhaps fifteen feet below the surface.
The boys swam directly over it,then floated motionless, watching the activity below. At first glance, there appeared to be only a pair of odd-shaped file-fish nibbling at the formation, but as their vision adjusted they made out literally dozens of tiny, colorful fish in clefts, under overhangs, or waiting motionless against a patch of color on the rocks. Rick pointed to a school of about ten vivid little fish of electric-blue color. The largest was less than two inches long. Scotty hooted for attention and pointed in his turn to a section of the rock that held over a dozen sea urchins that looked like black horse chestnuts with exaggerated spines.
Rick watched a pair of browndoctorfish about eight inches long swim by below, then his attention was attracted by a brilliant red squirrelfish peering out of a cleft. He pointed the red fish out to Scotty, who in turn showed him where a little moray was peering out of a hole near the base of the rock.
Rick was fascinated. If a tiny patch of rock held this amount of life, what must the real reefs be like off Clipper Cay? He was suddenly impatient to get going, to put on his aqualung and explore the reef from top to bottom. And if they should really find the wreck of the Maiden Hand, there was every chance that the exploration of the wreck and the sea life it had acquired would more than compensate for the treasure none of them really hoped to find anyway. What a vacation!
He was suddenly conscious of a throb in his ears. He listened and tried to identify it. A motorboat of some kind, but it didn’t sound like a very powerful one. He lifted his head and searched for it.
Scotty, too, had heard the boat. He began to tread water, lifting his mask,then rinsing it because it had fogged a little.
Rick spotted the boat. It looked like a large row-boat, powered with an outboard motor, and it was headed in their direction.
Scotty took his snorkel out of his mouth. “Better stay topside and watch. We don’t want to start our vacation by getting run over.”
“Too true,” Rick said. “Isn’t this great? I’ve never seen so many kinds of small fish in one place in my life. Wait until we get out to the reefs where the big ones are.”
Scotty patted his spear gun. “I’ll keep us supplied with fresh sea food. Wonder if there are any lobsters around?”
But Rick had stopped listening. “Scotty, that guy is heading right for us!”
The boat was getting close, and through his face plate Rick could make out the figure of a single occupant.
Scotty suddenly gripped his arm. “Rick! It’s our shadow!”
Rick started. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I don’t like this. What would he come out here for? Get ready to dive.” Scotty pulled his mask into place and molded it to his face, then gripped his snorkel between his teeth.
Rick followed suit and leveled off in the water in diving position, but he hesitated, waiting to see what the boat would do.
It didn’t take long to find out. The boat stayed on a perfectly straight course, headed directly for them. Rick waited. Perhaps the shadow intended to sheer off when he got close. He might have come out to talk with them.
Scotty hooted four times, their signal for danger,Then he went under. Still Rick hesitated, until it was clear that the boat did not intend to swerve. He saw the shadow’s face, set in grim lines, then his legs went up and he slid under, using his hands as well as his legs to pull himself down to safety. He thought incredulously, “He tried to run us down!”
A dozen feet underhe turned over on his back and saw the bright circle of the propeller and its trail of foam. The boat was past. He shot to the surface and filled his lungs with air, waiting for the next move.
The boat spun around in a tight turn and headed back.
Scotty surfaced next to Rick, pulled the snorkel from his mouth, and gritted, “Swim away. Let him use you for a target. I’m going to get that son of a spiny sea walrus.”
Rick saw from the position of the spear in Scotty’s gun that his friend had charged the weapon during the dive. He nodded, then turned and swam away, flippers flailing as though trying to hurry. He watched over his shoulder and saw the boat head for him.
He was breathing hard from the exciteme
nt now, but he took a deep breath and got ready to dive. But still he swam, leading the rapidly overtaking boat until it was almost on him. Only then did he shoot downward, twisting as he went. He looked back in time to see Scotty sight the spear gun and fire as the boat went past.
At first Rick thought his pal had missed,then he realized what Scotty had done. The spear shaft was attached to a long wire leader, and the leader to a safety line coiled around a spool just ahead of the pistol grip. Scotty had deliberately fired ahead of the propeller, knowing that the wire leader would be caught and would wrap around the shaft.
Rick saw the spear stop short as the wire caught, saw it hauled back against the propeller and drop free as the prop blades cut it loose. Scotty shot up for a breath, then dove instantly, toward the rapidly falling spear.
Rick had to breathe himself. He surfaced, caught a quick breath,then went under again.
Scotty was picking up the spear. Rick saw him place it in the gun barrel, swing the loader over the razor-sharp harpoon head, and shove down on the spring. In a moment the gun was loaded again. Luckily the spear had not bent when the prop blade hit it.
The boat had come to a halt, the engine dead. The propeller could no longer turn against the wrapping of wire and heavyfishline . Scotty hooted twice, their signal to surface, and Rick followed him up. Near the surface they separated, Rick taking the side of the boat away from his friend. He longed for a weapon, even a hand spear. But he was helpless.
Scotty would have to get in the first blow with the gun. But, Rick thought, that might give him time to get over the gunwale to grapple with the shadow.
His head broke water. He pulled the snorkel from his mouth and let it hang. As luck would have it, the shadow saw him first. He stood up, oar in hands, poised for a swing at
Rick’s head.
Scotty’s voice stopped the swing. “Don’t do it or you’ll get three feet of steel through you!”
The man turned and faced the needle point of Scotty’s spear. The oar dropped from his hands.
Rick gulped his relief. Apparently the shadow had no weapon.
“Jump overboard!” Scotty ordered.
The man hesitated. Scotty thrust the spear gun forward. “Jump, I said!”
The shadow did, and sank in a flurry of bubbles. When he rose to the surface again, the point of the spear was against his back. “Hang on to the boat with both hands,” Scotty directed.
Rick got to his side with a kick of the flippers and ran his hands over the man’s clothing. He found a switch knife, which he put in his belt. “He’s clean,” he said. “No other weapons.”
“Take a look in the boat,” Scotty suggested.
Rick did so, lifting himself up on the gunwale. There was nothing in the boat but oars and a can of gasoline.
“Want to tell us why you tried to run us down?” Rick asked.
The shadow merely stared.
“Talk,” Scotty ordered, “or I’ll put this spear through you.”
The man spoke, and his accent was the soft speech of the island. “No, you won’t. I could explain running down swimmers by accident, but you could never explain putting a spear through a man in a boat. You don’t want that kind of trouble.”
Scotty grinned at the truth of it. “Okay,” he said.“Just one thing. Don’t push us too far.
Stay in the water until we’re ashore, and don’t try to overtake us.”
“Better heed that advice,” Rick warned. “Come on, Scotty. Let’s go.” He put his snorkel in place.
Scotty moved to his side. “Welcome to the hospitable waters ofSt. Thomas ,” he said.
“What say we look up some friendly sharks before we go ashore?”
CHAPTER IV
Visitors by Night
Rick and Scotty stood on the pier and watched their erstwhile shadow row slowly toward another pier some distance away.
“We probably should have tied him up and called the police,” Rick remarked.
“It wouldn’t have gotten us anything,” Scotty disagreed. “He could always claim he didn’t see us in the water. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time divers had been run over by motorboats.”
“It’s too late now, anyway. Let’s dress, then go to the hotel and tell Zircon and Tony about this.”
As they dressed in the small cabin of the Water Witch, Rick spoke aloud the question that had been bothering him. “What did he have to gain by running us down? That’s what puzzles me. It was a stupid thing to try, because he didn’t really have much chance of getting both of us, or even one, once he failed to catch us by surprise.”
“He wasn’t very well prepared for murder, either,” Scotty added. “No weaponsexcept a switch knife.”
Rick nodded agreement. “He was desperate,” he concluded. “Suddenly he had to take a chance on getting us. He must have known it wasn’t much of a chance. Either he lost his head, or he wasn’t very bright. What could have made him try?”
Scotty had no answer, nor could Rick even hazard a reasonable guess.
They locked the cabin of the Water Witch, walked into town, and found a taxi. Their shadow did not show up again, and if a new tail had replaced him, the new one was too good to be spotted. However, the boys doubted that they were being followed.
“I just don’t get it,” Rick said for the twentieth time. “Our friend must have lost his head. Otherwise he’d have waited on shore and continued to follow us when we came
out of the water.”
“We’ll probably never know,” Scotty returned. “After all, we’ll be gone in the morning.”
“I know. But meanwhile, we’d better have eyes in the back of our heads.”
The taxi discharged them in front of Alexander’s Rest and they climbed out and surveyed the hotel with interest.
Scotty spoke first.“Alexander’s Rest? Which Alexander? TheGreat, orHamilton ? If it wasHamilton , as Dr. Ernst said, he must have built it personally.”
It was a two-story frame structure that had definitely seen better days. On closer inspection Rick decided that the second story had been added as an afterthought. It looked like the second layer of a poorly constructed cake.
Inside, however, the hotel proved to be very comfortable. It was cool, and the rooms were large and clean. The boys learned that they had been registered in a twin bedroom on the second floor, while Zircon and Briotti were on the first floor.
The boys found the scientists attired only in shorts, cooling off over long, cold drinks.
They accepted glasses of iced ginger ale and told the scientists of their adventure.
“It’s amazing.” Tony Briotti shook his head. “Do you realize that you two are a phenomenon? I should write you up for one of the scientific journals.”
“You mean because we turned the tables on the shadow?” Scotty asked.
“No.Because you’re adventure-prone. Did you ever hear of people who are accident-prone?”
Zircon chuckled.“A good observation of these two. I agree absolutely, Tony. They are adventure-prone.”
Rick sighed.“All right. What’s the joke?”
“None.I’m quite serious.” Tony found more ice for his glass. “Insurance statistics show that certain people are accident-prone. Accidents happen to them. They’re going along minding their own business and bang! A streetcar jumps the tracks and hits them. Or they step into open manholes. They’re the kind of people who always manage to be walking under things when workmen drop tools.”
“And you,” Zircon concluded, “are adventure-prone in the same way. Consider this.
Had you walked down the street either a minute earlier or later this morning you would not have seen Steve Ames. It’s quite likely that you would never have known of his presence in town. But what happens? You walk right into an adventure. One thing leads to another, and suddenly a stranger is trying to run you down with a motorboat.”
“That’s what bothers me,” Rick replied. “There’s no pattern. It just makes no sense.”
> “It doesn’t have to,” Tony Briotti said with a grin. “The Golden Skull pattern makes no sense, either. But you got us into more excitement than I knew was possible. You’re just adventure-prone.”
“And for the sake of my gray hair, stay out of trouble,” Zircon pleaded. “Stay close to us until we get to Clipper Cay.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Rick assured him. “Only let us out of your sight long enough to shower, please. I’m sticky.”
“We’ll stay in the hotel,” Scotty promised.
“Fine.I’ll feel better about it if I know where you are. Suppose you come by in an hour and we’ll have a quiet dinner at the Ernsts’.”
Dinner was quiet but interesting. The Ernsts were excellent hosts, and both Dr. and Mrs.
Ernst had many tales of the islands to tell. As the good doctor had promised, the boys enjoyed the wonderful variety of sea Me Mrs. Ernst had collected to keep in salt-water tanks. She identified for them a number of the smaller reef fishes, including clowns, demoiselles, and even the deadly scorpion fish.
The party broke up early, since the start for Clipper Cay was to be made at dawn by the scientists. The plan was for Zircon and Tony to make the trip in the Water Witch, with the boys flying over in the Sky Wagon. That way, both the plane and boat would be available. Zircon thought that fast trips toSt. Thomas might be necessary to replenish supplies, and he added that he would be happier if the plane were available in case of accident. That way, the patient could be inCharlotte Amalie in a short time.
As the boys bade good night to the scientists and started up the stairs to their room, Rick asked, “Any sign of a shadow tonight?”
“Nope.Guess Steve’s friends-or enemies-must have lost interest.”
“I hope that you’re right. As long as Steve ordered us to stay out of the case, I’ll be glad when we get to the cay and get underwater. We have to find that precious gadget even if it takes two solid weeks of diving. If we don’t, Barby will never let us forget it.”