by John Blaine
THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN
A RICK BRANT
SCIENCE-ADVENTURE
STORY, No. 17
BY JOHN BLAINE
Rock, melting like butter on a hot stove! It is hard to “believe, but that is what happens on San Luz, a small island off the coast of South America . When Rick Brant and his pal Dan Scott fly to the famous resort island to join Rick’s father, head of the Spindrift Scientific Foundation, a seemingly inactive volcano is about to explode in an eruption which could easily blow San Luz off the map.
The immediate threat is to a small town at the foot of the volcano, where the air reeks with the fumes of hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide, and it is here that Rick and Scotty help Dr. Brant and his scientist associates set up headquarters, in the hope of finding a way of controlling an eruption that is growing into a certainty with fantastic speed.
But their efforts to save the island town are hindered by the superior forces of nature, the superstitious fatalism of the people - and sabotage!
With the earth opening up all around them, Rick, Scotty, and the scientists have little hope of preventing a catastrophe, until a decision is made to unleash the awesome power of atomic energy in a desperate last attempt to fight the volcanic eruption.
Jam-packed with excitement and swift, tense action, The Flaming Mountain has all the elements that have made the Rick Brant Science Adventure series a favorite with boys all over the world.
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CHAPTER I
Vulcan’s Hammer
The entire staff of the world-famed Spindrift Scientific Foundation gathered in the conference room of the big gray laboratory building on the southeast corner ofSpindriftIsland . It was unusual for the whole staff to be called to a meeting. Even more unusual- not a single member knew what the meeting was about.
Rick Brant, son of the Spindrift Foundation’s director, Dr. Hartson Brant, was perhaps even more mystified than the professional scientists. His father had phoned fromFlorida with brief instructions. “Rick, I want you and Scotty to make a scale model ofSanLuzIsland . It’s off the coast ofVenezuela . You’ll find it on the sailing chart of the area, and there are references in the library. Be as complete and detailed as possible, and have the model ready by Saturday. Pick me up atNewarkAirport Saturdaynoon . I’ll have a guest. Ask Hobart Zircon to call a full staff meeting fortwo o’clock Saturday.”
Rick and his pal Don Scott had completed the model, which was now resting on a table at the front of the lab conference room. One hour ago he had flown with Scotty in his plane, the Sky Wagon, toNewarkAirport where he had picked up his father and a short, white-haired elderly man by the name of Dr. Esteben Balgos.
Rick, a teen-aged version of his long-legged, athletic father, was consumed with curiosity. He could tell that the scientist was deeply concerned over something. It seemed likely Dr. Balgos was at least involved in that concern, if not the actual cause. But Rick still knew of nothing that would relateSpindriftIsland off the coast ofNew Jersey to San Luz, an island off the coast of northernSouth America .
The Spindrift scientists were gathering, pausing to examine the model on the table before they took their seats. Hobart Zircon, the huge, bearded senior physicist and associate director of the Foundation, looked at the model in company with Tony Briotti, the youthful staff archaeologist. Dr. Howard Shannon, chief biologist, came in with Julius Weiss, the famous mathematical physicist.
A slender, attractive dark-haired girl, Rick’s own age, moved through the crowd to his side. He gave her a smile of welcome. Jan Miller was the daughter of one of the staff physicists, Dr. Walter Miller.
“What’s all this about, Rick?” Jan asked. “And where are Barby and Scotty?”
“I wish I knew what it’s all about,” Rick replied. “Barby and Scotty are at the house with Dad’s guest, a Dr. Esteben Balgos. We picked Dad and Balgos up atNewark an hour ago. They’ll be over in a few minutes.” Rick had come to the lab ahead of the others to be sure there were sufficient chairs set up and that the model was in position on the table.
“You must have some idea,” the girl insisted. “You and Scotty made the model.”
“Sure we did. But we don’t know why. Dad called from theUniversityofFlorida and gave instructions, and I didn’t have a chance to ask any questions.”
“It must be important,” Jan commented. “The whole staff hasn’t been together since Christmas.”
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Rick nodded. That had been a social occasion, not business, and on the day after Christmas he, Scotty, and Dr. Parnell Winston had taken off forCairo where they had become involved in intrigue and a major scientific mystery. The episode was now referred to as The Egyptian Cat Mystery. The boy wondered if this meeting was a beginning of something exciting, too, and in the same instant he was sure that it was.
“Herecomes Barby,” Jan said suddenly. “Excuse me, Rick.”
Barby Brant, Rick’s pretty blond sister, paused in the doorway until she saw Jan hurrying to meet her.
The two girls conferred briefly,then hurried to take seats in the exact center of the front row.
It was the custom at Spindrift to include the island’s young people in staff activities, and Rick had been a part of the various projects and discussions since he could remember. But not until Jan Miller’s arrival on the island, during the adventure of The Electronic Mind Reader, had Barby bothered to attend the scientific discussions. Jan, as bright as she was attractive, had succeeded in persuading Rick’s sister that science was not only exciting, but understandable.
The buzz of talk in the room stopped as Hartson Brant and his guest entered, followed by Scotty. The husky, dark-haired ex-Marine at once joined Rick. The two had been close friends and constant companions since the day Scotty joined the staff during The Rocket’s Shadow project. An orphan, Scotty was now a permanent member of the Spindrift family.
Hartson Brant did not need to rap for attention. There was an expectant hush as he began immediately.
“Our guest today is Dr. Esteben Balgos, of whom many of you have heard. Until his retirement a few years ago, he was considered by his colleagues as the dean of South American geophysicists. His primary field of interest was-and still is volcanology.”
Rick leaned forward.Volcanology, study of volcanoes. The mountain that formed the backbone of San Luz had once been a volcano, but it had been dead or inactive since prehistoric times. El Viejo- the Old One-was its name. Rick wondered if it might not be the connecting link between San Luz and Spindrift, but he couldn’t yet see how.
“Dr. Balgos reached me atFloridaUniversity while I was lecturing there. We talked, and I agreed that we would examine his problem. It is so unusual and challenging that I wanted all of you to hear what he has to say. Rick and Scotty have built a scale model of the island to help Dr. Balgos describe the problem to us.”
“So that’s why we built it,” Scotty whispered. “I’ve been wondering.”
Back grinned. So had he.
Dr. Balgos acknowledged Hartson Brant’s introduction, took a moment to wipe his horn-rimmed spectacles, and got down to business, using a pencil as a pointer. He spoke perfect English with a soft, musical Spanish accent which Rick found pleasant.
“This, young ladies and colleagues, is San Luz. I retired to this island from my nativePeru a few years ago, so it is now my home. Its relationship toSouth America is the same as that ofBermuda to the east coast of your country. In other words, it is an island vacation resort. There are about 32,000 people on San Luz, engaged in caring for tourists, in fishing, in farming bananas and cacao, and in digging and exporting pumice.”
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Rick knew this from his research. He hoped Dr. Balgos wouldn’t linger too long over descri
ptions.
“The tourist facilities are along the south coast, which is one continuous beach, starting at the main town ofCalor , and running to Redondo, a fishing village at the northern tip of the island. There are several excellent hotels and guest homes.”
Dr. Balgos pointed with his pencil to a cluster of buildings at the base of the mountain. “The location of this hotel is an exception. It is called the Hot Springs Hotel, and it is one of our biggest. It is named for thehot springs at the base of the mountain. You will see at once that El Viejo-this mountain-is clearly a volcano. The presence ofhot springs at its base indicates that it is not entirely dead.”
Now they were getting somewhere, Rick thought.
“Starting a few months ago, earthquakes in the vicinity began to increase in frequency. Since we are on the edge of a major geological fault, earthquakes are not at all unusual, and the increase attracted little attention. However, I have corresponded with seismologists throughout the area, and it is clear that the increase is due to activity directly under our island.”
The Peruvian scientist held up his pencil, like a teacher addressing a class. “I see that you consider this significant. So doI . There is one other bit of information that is also significant. The flow from thehot springs has changed in character. There is an occasional outpouring of hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide. Also, the average temperature of the springs has gone up several degrees.”
The area must smell pretty bad, Rick thought. Hydrogen sulfide was what gave the characteristic aroma to rotten eggs, and sulfur dioxide wasn’t exactly perfume. He wasn’t surprised when Dr. Balgos added that the hotel had been virtually abandoned.
“My data is not sufficient for any conclusion, but the general one that some kind of volcanic activity is increasing. However, I’m sure most of you depend, as I do, on intuition as well as on data. This intuition is simply the result of years of experience. Mine tells me that El Viejo is about to become active again.”
There was a murmur from the scientists.
“I am aware,” Balgos went on, “that this is a conclusion which cannot yet be supported. But I am certain in my own mind that such is the case. I do not believe the present mild activity causing the earthquakes will subside. But more than that, I believe the activity will grow in a particularly disastrous way.”
The scientist pointed to the volcano. “I have examined this cone. It is ancient, covered with jungle growth. It is clearly stable. The crater is filled in with compacted, weathered lava. If there should be a normal eruption, it would have to vent through thehot springs , which is the only active channel. Notice that the town ofCalor would then be right in line with the eruption.”
Rick could see it clearly. The contours of the terrain were such that a lava flow of any magnitude would engulf the little city.
“I believe the volcano will vent through thehot springs ,” Balgos went on. “But my examination of the volcano leads me to expect that it will vent with fantastic violence. The hot-springs channel is purely seepage. There is no open vent. This means the mountain will resist the growing forces under it until it is forced to give with great suddenness. To be as concise as possible, what I see here is another Krakatoa.”
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There was a concerted gasp from the assembled group. Rick felt his scalp prickle. He had expected nothing like this. Krakatoa, he knew from his reading, had been the greatest cataclysm in recorded history. The volcano, in theEast Indies , had blown up with enormous violence. The island on which it was located had been literally blasted to bits; nothing was left. Nearby islands were blazed clean. No one knew how many people had perished instantly. The blast was felt completely around the world, and the dust of Krakatoa had so filled the world’s skies that the weather was changed. Winters came earlier and stayed longer, until the dust settled at last.
“This is our problem,” Balgos said simply. “It is made more difficult by two things, our people and our politics. The people are superstitious fatalists. I know them too well to expect that they will move from the island. And where would they move? San Luz is claimed by three countries:England ,Colombia , andVenezuela . But we consider ourselves independent. We have our own legislature. We cannot go to any one country for help without acknowledging its sovereignty over us. We cannot go to all three at once, because the diplomatic difficulties of getting three nations together would take too much time.
Besides, I do not know what any nation could do. And so, I come to you, on behalf of our governor, and of myself.”
There was silence when Balgos finished. Then big Hobart Zircon boomed, “If we assume your conclusions are correct, what can be done? There is no way of stopping a volcanic eruption, much less an explosion. Man is helpless before such natural forces. It would be easier to stop a hurricane than another Krakatoa.”
Balgos shrugged. “I agree. Yet, can we stand by and wait without even making an attempt?”
“Certainly not,” Hartson Brant replied. “First, we must develop more data. Dr. Balgos had said that his conclusions are based on intuition, and not facts. I, for one, trust his intuition. But we must know the exact situation before we can even begin to study the possibilities of doing something.”
Tony Briotti objected. “Even with a study, what can be done? I’m not a physical scientist, so this is outside of my field. But I’ve never heard of anyone even attempting to change the direction of a lava flow, much less control an eruption.”
Dr. Balgos spread his hands expressively. “In mythology, Vulcan was the blacksmith, the god of fire and volcanoes. We have grown too wise to believe in myths, but we do believe in the scientific method. I come to you, as some of its most famous practitioners. If anything can be done-and I do not know if it can-then you are the scientific team that can do it. If you can do nothing, then San Luz will die, violently, under Vulcan’s hammer!”
CHAPTER II
San Luz
Rick Brant awoke slowly. For a moment he lay with eyes closed while he tried to identify the strange odor that smote his nostrils. It was a noxious combination of medicine, burned matches, and ancient eggs.
Then he remembered, and sat bolt upright in bed.
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San Luz! The smell of thehot springs burned his nose even through the air-conditioning system. It must be awful outside, he thought. It had been bad enough last night.
He looked over to the other bed in the luxurious room and saw Scotty, wrapped like a cocoon in sheet and blanket. For a moment he was tempted to heave a pillow at the ex-Marine, then reconsidered.
Scotty needed sleep. Let him wake up naturally.
Rick lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He could do with a little more shut-eye himself. So much had happened in the past few days that he was still spinning from the speed of it.
The arrival of Dr. Esteben Balgos had upset Spindrift more thoroughly than anything else Rick could remember. He and Scotty had sat through hours of argument and heated debate. Jan and Barby had given up when the scientific arguments got far beyond their ability to understand. Rick hadn’t understood much either, but he had stuck it out to the end.
The conclusion was that probably nothing could be done. There was simply no way to check the eruption of a volcano. If El Viejo was going to blow its top, well . . . that was that. But the Spindrift Scientific Foundation was not known for its eagerness to drop seemingly insoluble problems, so the staff had agreed that a study should be made, at the very least.
Hartson Brant had chosen Hobart Zircon and Julius Weiss to work with him,then he had persuaded an old friend, Dr. Jeffrey Williams, to drop his work for a short time and join the party. Dr. Williams was a noted seismologist. From the U. S. Geological Survey, Hartson Brant had borrowed Dr. David Riddle, a geologist with considerable experience in volcanology.
The scientific team departed at once for San Luz, leaving Rick and Scotty to bring up the rear. The boys loaded scientific equipment into the Sky Wagon and took off for San Luz. It took three days
for the little plane to make the trip, the longest flight of Rick’s flying career. Only once before had he flown so far over water, and then only to theVirgin Islands . The plane had made it easily, but he and Scotty had sweated it out.
Ordinarily, Hartson Brant would have taken the boys by commercial air, but he wanted Rick’s plane on hand. Since the senior scientist did not know what difficulties the scientists might encounter, he wanted a way of making aerial surveys and photographs, plus ready communication with the mainland and nearby islands.
The boys had arrived early the evening before, only to be whisked to theExecutiveMansion where the governor of San Luz, the Honorable Luis Montoya, was holding a reception for the visiting scientists.
The governor, a charming little man who looked like Rick’s idea of a Spanish grandee, knew why the scientists were there, of course. But the secret was confined to the governor himself and to Balgos. Even Jaime Guevara, the lieutenant governor, did not know.
The agreement was that the scientific group would seem to be interested only in thehot springs . The purpose of their visit, the governor had announced to the local press and radio, was to investigate the change in the springs that had ruined a principal San Luz resort hotel.
Byten o’clock , when the reception ended, the boys were exhausted. But the end was not yet. They were riding in Zircon’s jeep-five jeeps had been assigned to the party by the governor-and Zircon had to meet the last member of the party, Bradley Connel, a geologist borrowed from an oil company in Caracas, Venezuela, by Dr. Balgos.
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It was nearlymidnight before the boys got to sleep, after nearly three days with minimum rest. So, both were tired. In the middle of thinking how tired he was, Rick dropped off to sleep again.
He awoke with Scotty’s voice in his ears. “Come on, old buddy. Dad’s calling a staff meeting in fifteen minutes.”
Rick sat up. “How do you know?”
“Didn’t you hear the phone ring? Boy, you must be tired! Let’s go.Time for a quick shower and coffee.