by John Blaine
Scotty thought it over. “I think it’s all right,” he said finally. “After all, what could they do? They wouldn’t ran off and leave us. They could be tracked down too easily once Dr.
Warren’s people decided we’d been gone too long without any word and sent a rescue plane.”
“Maybe they want the equipment,” Rick suggested.
“They can’t operate it,” Scotty pointed out. “And it would do them no good to damage it. If that was what they wanted, they could have done it long ago. Besides, we haven’t a thing on Turk, except that he was grouchy at sea.”
“Don’t forget the Jap,” Rick said.
“He’s a puzzle,” Scotty agreed. “But what can he do?
MM:
If he had wanted to damage the equipment, he could easily have done it before you found him. And he can’t hurt the boat without sinking himself.”
The answers echoed Rick’s thoughts, nevertheless he was uneasy. “All we can do is let nature take its course,” he said. “That’s a futile way of doing things, but what else is there?”
“Nothing,” Scotty said. “Come on, help me with this tent.”
The two pyramid tents were erected with the jointed poles and steel tent pegs that had been brought along. Three Army cots were placed in each, complete with mattress pads, blankets, and mosquito nets. A water bag was set up on a tripod of poles, to be filled daily from the ship’s supply.
Meanwhile, Hobart Zircon and Professor Gordon had set up the camp’s electrical system. Several storage batteries operated a small converter that produced 110 volts. A one-cylinder, gasoline charging unit would keep up the voltage in the batteries. Lights were strung within the tents and on a line that stretched between them. In the tent assigned to the boys was placed a two-unit electric plate and an electric percolator in case a meal was wanted ashore. Professor Gordon took the medical supplies and his ultraviolet sterilizer into his own tent.
“This spit of land seems healthy enough,” he said. “We may not even need to use the DDT and the sterilizer.”
By lunchtime, the place was shipshape and ready for occupancy. Rick was pleased as he looked around at the little camp. While the space ashore would be needed for the material they found on the sea bottom, one of the main reasons for the camp was that none of the Spindrift party especially enjoyed living in the crowded, stuffy quarters aboard ship.
As they prepared to go back to the ship for lunch, Scotty asked Hartson Brant, “How about a guard for the camp, sir? If we leave it, the natives might steal everything in sight.”
“We’ll fix that,” Professor Gordon stated. He rummaged in a supply box and found a coil of strong twine. Then he tore a white handkerchief into half a dozen strips. While Rick watched, wondering, Gordon and Scotty strung the twine across the peninsula right at the edge of the jungle. Then Gordon hung the strips of handkerchief at intervals. ,
“Now,” Gordon stated, “the peninsula is safe.”
“Sure enough.”Scotty grinned. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“We’re making the camp tabu,” Gordon explained. “Did you notice die strip of white bark on the stick next to the pile of offerings? That’s proof that these people cling to the old beliefs.”
Rick looked at the strips of white handkerchief with disbelief.
“Do you mean that little string will actually keep them away?”
“It’s the mark of the tabu,” Gordon affirmed. “It has been for centuries. They firmly believe that to break a tabu means death. They won’t risk it.”
“It actually works,” Scotty assured Rick. “You’ll see.”
“I’ll have to see,” Rick stated. “When do we get a demonstration?”
Scotty looked at the forbidding wall of jungle behind the line of white strips. There was worry in his eyes as he said: “Maybe sooner than you think.”
CHAPTER IX
Searching by Sound
Digger sears, acting on Turk’s instructions, had rigged a platform on the bow of the trawler. After lunch, Hart-son Brant directed the placing of the sound equipment on the platform.
A rounded brass dome, about eighteen inches in diameter, was lowered into the water under the trawler’s bow,then securely bolted to the plank platform. Hobart Zircon opened a large metal case, exposing a complicated control board that had a circular screen, a loudspeaker, and an illuminated scale. A cable was secured to a socket in the control box, and its other end plugged into the brass dome. Then a power cable was attached to the deck generator outlet.
“We’ll cover the entire channel between here and Little Kwangara,” Hartson Brant instructed Turk. I’ll depend on you to take sightings with thepelorus whenever we locate anything on the bottom. Professor Gordon will sketch the depth curves.”
“Right,” Turk agreed. He shouted instructions to up anchor, and the trawler moved slowly out through the reef opening. As they cleared the reef, Hartson Brant turned a knob and the panel lit up.
On the circular screen, a hand like that of a clock began its slow sweep. The illuminated scale showed dancing points of light. As another switch was turned, the loud-speaker began to give out a rapid beep-beep of sound.
Rick watched, fascinated. He knew the theory of the thing, but he had never before seen it in operation. The brass ball was sending out bursts of supersonic waves, inaudible to the human ear. As they struck bottom, the sound waves were reflected and picked up
again by the apparatus. The illuminated scale automatically showed the time of the echo, measured in feet instead of seconds. The beep-beep noise was the initial sound impulse, translated into audible sound, and followed closely by the returning echo.
As the water deepened, the space between the beeps grew more pronounced, and Hartson Brant began to read the depths aloud.
“50, 50, 55, 60, 58, 57, 60, 65, 69.. . .”
Rick had a mental picture of the bottom as his father droned out the readings. A gradual slope, then a small hill, and the bottom dropped more sharply. ... He sighted across the bow and saw that Turk was heading slowly out to sea at right angles to
theshoreofKwangara .
The deepest spot was almost 1,600 feet, close to the small island known as Little Kwangara. Turk brought the trawler even with the small island, turned her sharply and headed back on a parallel course.
The trawler had made four such runs before Hartson Brant found anything of interest.
He called sharply, “I have something. Gordon, get this.” He read off figures showing a sharp, irregular rise and fall on the sea bottom.
Rick sighted across the stern. They were about 1,000 feet fromCampSpindrift , in 600
feet of water. Their line of travel was between the spit of land and the southern tip of Little Kwangara.
Every person aboard, except for the Japanese, who was locked up, and Turk and one seaman who were in the pilothouse, had gathered to watch over Hartson Brant’s shoulder.
Rick grinned at Scotty. Even Otera, Digger, and the other two crewmen were excited.
Turk stepped out on deck, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Shall I make another run over that spot?”
“Please,” Hartson Brant said. He looked up from the control panel. “There’s certainly something there.”
Turk swung the trawler and headed back. Again the sound equipment picked up
irregular echoes. Gordon was jotting them down, and making a diagram from the distances given.
Four times more the trawler ran over the spot, on a slightly different course each time.
As they ran across for the last time, Gordon gave an exultant shout.
“It’s the temple! It must be! That last run gave me the dimensions. Listen: It’s almost square, roughly 100 feet on a side. And there must be a wide wall around it, about ten feet high. I don’t know how wide, because the gear isn’t that sensitive, but it must be pretty wide, since it registers.”
Turk turned the trawler over to Digger and joined the scientists. “It’s thedoggondest thin
g I’ve seen,” he exclaimed. “They didn’t have this stuff when I was doing salvage. It certainly pegs the bottom, doesn’t it?”
There was no doubting Turk’s genuine enthusiasm. The captain was as pleased over the finding of the temple as any of the Spindrift party. Rick began to like Turk a little better.
“Did you get bearings?” Hartson Brant asked.
“To the inch,” Turk boasted. “I can take you to any corner of the place you want.”
“Fine,” Zircon boomed.“Well, Hartson, what now?”
“I think we had better continue charting the bottom,” Mr. Brant said. “There may be other portions of the temple, or perhaps another building somewhere around.”
“Okay,” Turk said agreeably. “Here we go.”
As Turk ran the trawler back and forth, the depth contour of the bottom took shape. The sea bottom sloped gradually from Kwangara until it reached a maximum depth of 1,600
feet about 2,000 feet from Little Kwangara. Then it rose abruptly to Little Kwangara reef.
Nothing unusual showed on the sound gear. The beeps continued, only the space between them showing the gradual bottom change. Then, 300 yards off the southern tip of Little Kwangara, Hartson Brant suddenly turned the speaker volume high. The echo pinged sharply.
“Strange,” the scientist said. “Did you hear that? Captain, run that spot again, please.”
Turk did so, and the character of the beeps changed sharply.
“Metal,” Zircon exclaimed.“Almost certainly metal.”
The trawler swung again, and Gordon jotted down Mr. Brant’s readings. “750, 750, 720, 720, 750, 750, 700, 670____”
“Sheer off!” Hartson Brant called suddenly. “We’re running on a steep-to shore!”
The trawler’s nose swung sharply about as Turk spun the wheel. He headed back to Kwangara,then came out on deck. “What’s up?”
“An underwater cliff,” Hartson Brant explained. “I didn’t want to risk going closer until we found out how dose it comes to the surface. Gordon, what do the figures show?”
Gordon examined his sketch. “The bottomrises abruptly, shelves off for about 300 feet, then rises again to a steep cliff. The shelf is at 750 feet, and there’s something on it, about 30 feet high, and pretty large. A ship, almost certainly.”
He looked at the interested faces around him. “Did we say that war didn’t come to Kwangara? I’d say at least one ship was sunk here, unless some merchantman struck that cliff, sankherself , and came to rest on that ledge.”
“Perhaps we can investigate when we’ve finished with the temple,” Zircon suggested.
“You never knowwhere’ll you’ll find wrecks these days,” Turk Mallane said. “But I’ll tell you this. That one didn’t hit that underwater cliff.”
“How do you know that?” Zircon asked quickly.
“I can tell by the color of the water that the cliff doesn’t come close enough to the surface to be a menace. I’d say the ship was sunk.” There was ill-concealed excitement in the way Turk grinned at them. “Funny, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “I’m as geared up over this business as any of you.”
“Rick, get the chart, please, and give it to the captain,” Hartson Brant requested. “Will you transfer yourpelorus sightings to our chart as well as your own, Captain? I think we can go back to our anchorage now. We’ve found what we want.”
Rick took the chart into the pilothouse and watched Turk transfer his sightings, placing both the temple and the sunken ship in their exact locations.
“Haven’t enjoyed anything so much since we found the old Havana Girl in 250 feet off the Isle of Pines,” Turk said jovially. “You’re lucky to be along on a trip like this, lad.”
“I guess I am,” Rick said shortly. He couldn’t forget that Turk had been snarling at
everyone only a few days past. He didn’t like anyone who changed his colors so often.
As the trawler headed back to the anchorage, Rick joined Scotty at the rail.
“I wonder what that shipis? ” Scotty mused. “Amerchantman, or a warship?Japanese or American?Or maybe British?”
“We’ll probably never know,” Rick said. “Unless there’s time to make a few dives and investigate when we’re through with the temple.” He looked at his watch. “Gosh, it’s suppertime. We’ve been at this all afternoon.”
“I don’t need a watch,” Scotty said with a grin. “My stomach tells me when it’s time to eat.”
Chahda, who had helped Zircon to disconnect the sound equipment, came and stood beside them.
“Turk very happy,” the Hindu boy told them. “He stands in pilothouse and hums like happy bumblebee.”
“Not only Turk,” Scotty added. “Even Digger is grinning like a contented horse.”
Rick watched two of the seamen standing by the anchor, ready to let go when they were inside the reef. “Dewey,Hughey , andLewey , too,” he agreed. It was strange, but the afternoon’s work had changed the entire atmosphere of the ship.
“I haven’t seen our Japanese friend,” Rick commented, “but if he’s like the rest, he’s probably whistling The Prisoner’s Song’ and feeling happy about the whole thing.”
But if the trawler echoed excited happiness from all hands, the island itself hadn’t changed. The Spindrift group went ashore in twilight and turned on the power system, to give them lights while getting ready for bed. The hum of the generator was loud in the stillness, and even the strong light of the bulbs seemed to be lost in the darkness at the edge of the jungle.
Rick noted that Scotty’s rifle was never far from his friend’s hand. He asked quietly,
“Nervous?” “Yes,” Scotty answered bluntly. “It’s too quiet.” “Much quiet,” Chahda agreed. “I not liking.” Then, when they were in their bunks with the power turned off, the silence pressed in with even more intensity. Rick felt stifled under his mosquito net, but he knew he shouldn’t open it. He lay awake, tense with listening for some sound that never came.
CHAPTER X
A Threat from the Jungle
Rick awoke to a stir of activity. The scientists were already up and dressed, and he could see the crew at work aboard the trawler. They were rigging the heavy booms and winding the salvage cable on the smaller of the two winches.
Scotty and Chahda got into their clothes and came out of the tent to stand beside him.
. “Something’s happened,” Scotty said suddenly. “Listen!”
“Noises,” Chahda exclaimed. “Thewoods is come to life!” ‘
Rick listened,then walked toward the jungle’s edge. As he approached a white cockatoo rose into the air with a screech. It wastrue, the jungle had come to life! He could hear bird songs from the deep woods, and once a crashing through the underbrush as some animal ran past.
“Wild boar,” Scotty guessed.“Nothing else in these islands big enough to make noise like that.”
“But what has happened?” Rick asked, bewildered.
“Our friends have gone back to their village, I suspect,” Scotty replied. “What do you think, Chahda?”
“Also.Yesterday they watch, and last night.This morning they go.”
The scientists had noticed the change, too. Professor Gordon shook his head. “I’m at a complete loss. This is the first time I’ve ever come across unfriendly natives. Usually they come right into camp and start bartering for fresh fruit or fish.”
“Anyway,” Rick said with a glance at the dangling pieces of white handkerchief, “they haven’t crossed the line.”
“They won’t,” Scotty assured him.
Out on the trawler, Turk greeted them heartily and showed them what had been accomplished. The booms were rigged for operation and the electric power cable had
been unwrapped from its protecting burlap and lay ready. The main cable and the salvage cable had been wound on their separate winches during the early part of the trip.
“The rest is up to you,” he said, smiling. “My part’s done.”
“Well done,�
� Hartson Brant complimented him. “You’re a very efficient skipper, Captain Mallane.”
Turk smiled his thanks. “I’ve let the stowaway come topside for a while.” He pointed to where the Japanese was taking his ease near the galley. “We’ll put him back in the locker when we’re ready to start operations. Otera has your breakfast ready.”
It was a quick breakfast, because everyone was anxious to start. With Turk and Digger interested observers, work on the Submobile began.
Rick and Scotty went to the supply room and brought out small cylinders of oxygen.
Chahda crawled into the Submobile and put air-purifying chemicals in place.
To Turk’s questions, Rick explained: “We make our own air. There’s a steady supply of oxygen from the tanks. Then, we use calcium chloride for absorbing the moisture in the air, and soda lime for absorbing the carbon dioxide. Two bottles of oxygen are big enough to supply two men for ten hours.”
Meanwhile, the scientists were making a recheck of the four danger points where pressure might leak through. These were at the propeller shafts, and at the top stuffing box through which the power cable passed. A check showed the salvage apparatus and the Sonoscope operating.
Finally, the main cable was attached to the lift ring on top of the Submobile and the winch rechecked. Turk already had steam up in the big Diesel-steam winch.
The last step was to unbolt the Submobile cradle from the deck, and as Rick and Scotty did so with huge wrenches, the trawler started for the passage through the reef.
Rick arose with the last bolt in his hand as they passed the reef. He wiped sweat from his forehead and grinned at his father. “All set, Dad.”
“Fine, Rick. Got your camera?”
“I’ll get it.” One of his duties was to take a pictorial record of the operation. He had already photographed the ship and most of the activities on the voyage fromHonolulu .
By the time he had secured his camera case from the cabin, the trawler had hove to, her