by John Blaine
“Very well.And what is this ship supposed to be doing behind the island when its little undersea craft is in the lagoon?”
“Probably hiding from us,” Rick said.
“In that case, I propose we let it hide successfully.”
Tom Bishop had been sitting in comfort in the boat, waiting for them to return. “Anything exciting?” he asked. “From what I could see, this is just like ten thousand other atoll islands. I decided not to roam around.”
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“Nothing exciting on the island,” Rick said. “But in the lagoon . . . well, I don’t know what we saw, but it certainly wasn’t a herring.”
Tom grinned. “Still looking for sea monsters? Perhaps we’d better break out a trawl and give the lagoon the once over. We’d come up with enough fish for supper and maybe the Phantom Shark besides.”
“A practical suggestion,” Dr. Warren said, “but I don’t think we’d better follow it. Suppose we did catch this strange creature? What would we do with it? I’m certain from the description that it isn’t edible.”
Rick looked at Dr. Warren and saw the twinkle in his eyes. He had an idea that the dignified scientist was as curious as any of them. But, since the survey was his responsibility, he had no intention of hunting trouble.
As the Tarpon moved into deep water, the group gathered on the aft deck. The trawler moved to the north, paralleling the atoll reef. Rick didn’t fail to keep an eye on the island behind which the Phantom Shark was presumably hiding. It was too far away to see clearly, but Tom Bishop brought binoculars.
During the fifteen minutes it took them to come abreast of the island, he studied it through the glasses but saw nothing.
“Let me look,” Rick begged. He had no hope of seeing very much, but he took the powerful glasses and held them to his eyes. There was nothing to see but palms. Then suddenly there was a bright line behind the palms, like sunshine striking metal. “There’s something there!” he exclaimed. He readjusted the focus and strained to see, but he couldn’t make out what it was.
“Let’s have them,” Dr. Warren asked. He took the binoculars and studied the island. “A line of light,” he said. “It looks like a reflection from a metal bar or something of the kind.”
Carl Ackerman was the next to try. He held the glasses steady for a long moment, then said, “I believe I see something sticking up. Tom, take another look. Are those masts?”
They were slightly past the island now, and at a point where the palms thinned out. Tom Bishop took a long look, then passed the glasses to Jack.
“Masts, right enough. Jack, can you make out the rigging?”
The mate studied the spot. Then, as the Tarpon moved into better position, he gave a sudden exclamation. “I see it! It’s a schooner . . . no, it’s a ketch.It’s . . . hang it. It’s gone behind the palms again.” The Hawaiian lowered the glasses. “I got a brief look. It’s a sailing craft, ketch rigged. At least the mizzen was shorter than the mainmast. I couldn’t get a good look at the hull.”
“The type of boat doesn’t matter,” Dr. Warren said. “At least we’re sure now that we have company at Nanatiki.”
“What on earth would a boatbe doing here?” Mrs. Warren asked.
“Getting pearls,” Barby said.
It was one answer, but Rick couldn’t fully accept it. Surely the Phantom Shark didn’t depend on diving to get pearls for sale. It would take years and more than one lagoon to supply a necklace like Jerrold’s.
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“I wish we had time for a long look around,” he said.
Dr. Warren smiled.“Curious, Rick? I am, too. But if that vessel is the Phantom Shark’s, and I don’t knowwhose else it would be, we can’t risk staying around.” He glanced at Tom Bishop. “We’d better put a few miles between us and Nanatiki, Tom, just in case our friend doesn’t like visitors.”
The fisherman nodded. “I don’t think he’ll worry much about us, unless we try to get close to seewho he is. But perhaps you’re right. A little sea distance won’t hurt anything.”
“It’s useless to speculate,” the scientist said. “We won’t know what he is doing here until we’ve had a chance to explore the islands and the lagoon.”
“But we’re leaving, and we won’t have a chance,” Barby objected.
Rick watched as Dr. Warren took the glasses and swept the lagoon. “We’ll come back here, won’t we?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Warren said. “We’ll be back. By that time our friend will be gone and we’ll have Nanatiki to Ourselves .”
CHAPTER XIII
The “Tarpon” Returns
The Tarpon steamed steadily southward while all hands occupied themselves with various tasks. During the ten days in which they had explored the waters between Nanatiki and Indispensable Reef, enough material and information had been accumulated to keep them going at top speed.
Chahda and Carl were below decks most of the time, working on specimens brought up by the nets. Bill Duncan worked over a large-scale chart of the area, recording the fathometer readings and analyzing them. Dr. Warren, with Rick helping him, made constant checks on water temperatures and filled water samples for Carl to analyze.
The equipment for taking temperature and samples was simple but ingenious. It was lowered on a long, metal shaft connected to a steel cable. Along the shaft were bottles with hinged tops, and three thermometers. The Tarpon always hove to when samples were being taken. Rick would reel out the line until Dr. Warren signaled that the proper depth had been reached. Then a metal object called a messenger would be released, to slide rapidly down the steel cable. When it came in contact with the equipment, the hinged tops of the sample bottles would snap shut and the thermometers would be reversed, breaking the thin silver line of mercury in such a way that the temperature could be easily determined when the equipment was hauled in again.
Scotty was kept busy helping Tom Bishop. Several times, the booms had been rigged and the big otter trawl put over the stern. Once or twice it had come up with only a few astonished ocean travelers. More often, it had flopped back on deck with a slippery, leaping, squirming mass of fish, some of them incredibly colored and of nightmare shape. Then, one or two of each variety would be chosen and Page 58
packed in the refrigerator for inspection and classification by Bill and Carl. The rest were dumped back into the sea.
To the boys, it seemed that the quantity of fish was more than enough to warrant commercial fishing, but the scientists were not satisfied.
Barby had discovered a new talent. Mrs. Warren, in addition to keeping the records, made color charts of each fish, sketching in the outline of the fish and then indicating the coloring with water colors. Barby tried her hand at it and found that she could sketch rapidly and with considerable accuracy.
Consequently, she spent most of her time sketching specimens and trying to perfect her technique under Mrs. Warren’s guidance.
She was entranced, too, by Bill Duncan’s microscope and what it showed her when the silken plankton nets were brought to the surface. Sometimes the nets brought up only a greenish, thick scum which didn’t look like much to the naked eye but resolved itself into myriad weird little sea creatures under the lens.
Barby used up pads of sketch paper drawing the odd little creatures.
Dr. Warren shook his head as he checked over a batch of her sketches. “I don’t know what we’ll do when you young folks leave us. This was supposed to be only a vacation, but you’ve made yourselves so useful we’ll miss your help as well as your company.”
They were so occupied with their self-appointed tasks that the Phantom Shark faded far into the background. They were even a little disappointed to find that the Tarpon had headed back toward Nanatiki. The Indispensable Reef region had been fascinating, and there was no assurance that the area between Nanatiki and theNew Hebrides would be nearly as interesting.
They arrived at Nanatiki on the following morning.
Jack Pualani took the wheel
himself, while Tom Bishop stood in the bow to watch for shoal water, and a seaman stood by with lead in hand, ready to take soundings.
The Tarpon made a complete circle of the atoll, moving at only five knots in case coral heads should suddenly thrust up in the ship’s path. Rick and Dr. Warren sketched in reefs and small islands on the atoll chart as Bill Duncan took sightings and called off the data. Barby, Mrs. Warren, Carl Ackerman, and Chahda contented themselves with being spectators, sometimes rushing to the rail as the Tarpon passed close by a coral outcropping.
It was afternoon before the circuit of the atoll was completed. Then Jack took the ship toward a break in the reef that promised clear passage into the lagoon.
“No sign of any other ship,” Rick said to Scotty. “Guess our Phantom buddy got back toNoumea on schedule.”
“Taking a raft of pearls with him,” Scotty nodded. “And the question is, where did he get them? Were they hidden somewhere?”
Rick shrugged. He had puzzled over that until his head ached, but no answer or even a remote theory had been forthcoming. As a hiding place, Nanatiki was good, but too remote. Pearls weren’t bulky, and it wouldn’t take much room to hide them right inNoumea . He couldn’t believe the Phantom Shark had come to fish for pearls. There just weren’t that many pearls in any lagoon, according to people who should know, like Dr. Warren and Bill Duncan.
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“Maybe we’ll find out when we look around a little,” he said. “But I’m not too hopeful. By the way, what’s the date?”
Scotty figured rapidly. “It’s the fifteenth.”
Their eyes met. Tonight, inNoumea , Jerrold and the Phantom Shark would be meeting again.
“That does it,” Rick said. “By the time we get back the Phantom Shark will be peddling his pearls inSingapore or somewhere, and Jerrold will be far away. I guess we can call this case closed.”
“Looks like it,” Scotty agreed.
Tom Bishop’s voice was raised from the bow. “All hands come up here and help keep a lookout.”
The Tarpon had turned and was heading for the break in the reef. Rick and Scotty rushed to the bow with the others and joined Tom.
“We’ll have clearance on both sides,” the skipper said. “And we’ll goslow and heave the lead to be sure there’s plenty of bottom. But all of you keep your eyes open for obstructions ahead. Watch for the water to change color, and watch for coral heads. You’ll see them if they’re near the surface.”
The trawler pushed through the water with just enough speed to maintain rudder control. The leadsman sang out the depths as he worked.
“No bottom at fifteen.” He swung the fourteen-pound lead again and found bottom.“By the deep twelve!”
Surf beat against the reef on either side as the Tarpon slipped through. Rick saw the sharp coral teeth of the reef ten feet from the hull and shuddered at what would happen to the trawler if she should hit such a spot.
Then they were inside the lagoon, swinging to the north toward the island where they had seen the Phantom Shark’s ketch. It took a long time, because they had to feel their way, lacking an accurate chart of the lagoon.
“Plenty of water, looks like,” Tom Bishop finally said.
“We’ve yet to see any dangerous heads.” He called to Jack. “Clear ahead. Steady as she goes.”
“Steady as she goes,” the big Hawaiian repeated.
A few moments later the anchor chain rattled out and they came to rest a hundred yards off the smallislandofFaisol behind which the sailing craft had hidden.
“Are we going ashore?” Rick asked eagerly.
“We certainly are,” Dr. Warren agreed. “And let’s not waste any time about it. I’m as anxious as you are to see if our mysterious pearl pirate left any signs of his visit.”
Jack called an order and the starboard lifeboat was lowered into the water. The group began getting into Page 60
the boat as soon as a ladder was lowered. Rick took a seat next to Barby and grinned at her look of eager expectancy. “What do you think we’ll find?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But don’t you think we’ll find something?”
“We soon know,” Chahda replied.
It took only a few seconds for the boat to make the short run. Rick jumped to the sand and held out his hand to Mrs. Warren, then to Barby. When they were safely ashore, he turned to survey the island.
It was like the one they had first visited but smaller. It had the same palms, the same sandy beaches, and nothing else.
“We want to cover every inch of it,” Scotty said. “How do we go about it?”
“Suppose we walk to the southern tip, then spread out in a line across the island and walk the length of it?” Dr. Warren suggested.
“Good idea,” Rick said. The island was only a couple of hundred feet wide. “Let’s get started.”
He, Barby, and Chahda led the way, with Barby stopping now and then to pick up an attractive shell. At the tip of the island they turned and waited for the others. When they were all assembled, Dr. Warren directed, “Barby, you take the extreme right and go up the beach.Rick, next to Barby. Then Scotty, Chahda, Bill, Tom, Jack, Carl, and I, with Helen on the extreme left. Keep steady intervals and be sure the area between you is covered thoroughly. I haven’t the vaguest idea what we’re looking for, but we may find something of interest.”
Mrs. Warren smiled at Barby. “They’re letting us comb the beaches. Do you suppose our interest in shells has anything to do with it?”
“It’s because you have on sandals,” Scotty volunteered. “The sand will run right out again. But we would get our shoes full.”
Mrs. Warren nodded soberly. “I see. Chivalry gives way to practicality.”
Scotty didn’t know what to say to that.
They spread out in a line that extended across the island and started at a slow walk toward the other end. Rick scanned every inch of ground in his area and saw that the others were being equally thorough.
There were coconut crabs, big fellows with massive claws that sidled out of the way. There were fallen coconuts and dried, broken palm fronds. There was pigweed, and one lonesome pandanus tree, but nothing else.
At the northern tip of the island the group reassembled.
“Anyone find anything?” Dr. Warren asked.
No one had.
“Not even a footprint,” Barby said.
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Jack Pualani spoke up. “I don’t think whoever was on the ketch even came ashore. Why should they?
There’s obviously nothing on the island.” He pointed out into the lagoon. “That was where we saw the fin, remember? And that’s where we’ll find the answer to the riddle- if there is an answer.”
Rick thought that the mate was probably right. But the lagoon was long and wide. How could they hope to cover all of it? He put the question aloud.
“We can’t cover all of it,” Tom Bishop agreed. “Best we can do isgo out to the place where you saw the fin, or at least the approximate area, and take a look at the bottom.” He glanced at the sun. “There’s time enough for a few runs across the area before it gets dark. We can get an idea of the bottom, and then lay up for the night.”
“Tomorrow,” Jack Pualani said, “I’ll go down and see what the Shark was doing.Unless someone has a better idea.”
No one had.
CHAPTER XIV
Under the Lagoon
“Twenty-one fathoms,” Tom Bishop said.“Average depth. Pretty deep, Jack.”
The big Hawaiian shrugged.
Rick stared into the depths under the bow. He saw the anchor chain go down and down, until it was lost in the green water. As the sun rose higher, they would be able to see farther into the water, but he didn’t know that it would help much.
After running the lagoon a few times with the fathometer, they had spent the night at anchor off the smallislandofFaisol , where the Phantom Shark had lain. Here and there were coral outcroppings, but the average depth in the ar
ea where they had seen the fin was twenty-two fathoms.
“What can we do?” Barby asked. “There isn’t a diving suit aboard.”
“Jack wants to dive,” Rick said.
Her eyes opened wide. “But that’s too deep, Rick.”
“I think so, too,” Rick agreed. “But he says he has gone deeper than that.”
“Let’s talk it over,” Tom Bishop said. “Where are Dr. Warren and the others?”
“Still eating breakfast,” Barby told him.
“All right.Let’s go see what they have to say.”
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The rest of the group was aft, having breakfast under the canvas awning.
Dr. Warren looked up as Tom approached.“Any ideas, Tom?”
The skipper motioned to Jack. “He wants to dive.’*
“He’s crazy,” Bill Duncan exploded.
“I not think so,” Chahda declared. “Is diversinIndia go that deep. Jack has dive before, maybe he can.”
The mate smiled. “Thanks for the moral support, Chahda. As a matter of fact, I’ve gone deeper than that myself. I hit twenty-three fathoms once, offHilo , and stayed down for a minute and a half.”
Mrs. Warren asked quietly, “How old were you, Jack?”
“I’ll admit I was a lot younger.” The mate grinned. “But I’m not exactly an old man now.”
Scotty finished his coffee and stood up. “Suppose you do go down, Jack? What will it prove?”
It was a sensible question, Rick thought.
“Maybe nothing.But the Phantom Shark wasn’t playing tag with the angelfish for fun. There must be something on the bottom.”
Dr. Warren nodded. “There undoubtedly is. The question, it seems to me, is this: Is it worth the risk? I have an idea all you’ll find is shell.”
“Shell with pearls,” Jack said. “I have a hunch there are pearls in this lagoon. I’d like to see.”
Rick put in his penny’s worth. “Maybe there are, but would that explain what the Shark was after?
There can’t be enough pearls so that he could just scoop them off the bottom.”