by John Blaine
There was silence as he chewed. The other natives had gathered, watching. Then the
young warrior’s face cleared and he nodded. He held out his hand for more.
It was a signal for the other natives to crowd around the ration box. Scotty, aided by Chahda and Zircon, laughingly motioned them back while the cans were opened. The contents had to be divided or some of the natives would be left out. One whole can, however, went to the old chief, along with a sheath knife from the camping kit.
Rick grinned, watching the press of natives anxious to taste canned food. They were crowding around and laughing like children.
Then, from the center of the milling crowd, there was a sudden yell of anger and the sound of a hard blow as fist met flesh. The laughter stilled and the natives stepped back.
The old chief was stretched on the ground, just stirring back to consciousness, and over him Digger Sears stood nursing his knuckles.
The mate looked belligerently around him. “The old gook tried to pick me pocket!” he explained angrily.
“A bunch of thieves,” Turk Mallane agreed. “I knew you’d have trouble.”
Rick looked at the captain in amazement. He was calmly eating a banana filched from the sacrificial pile!
“Put those bananas back,” Hartson Brant ordered coldly. “Sears,get back to the ship and don’t come ashore again.”
Scotty was already helping the old chief to his feet. The aging warrior pulled away proudly and walked into the jungle without looking back.
“Go ahead,” Turk said disdainfully. “Pamper the swine. Let ‘emworship old Joe Goblin.
They’ll steal your shirts while you’re doing it.” He slapped the bronze statue casually.
There was an angry mutter from the native warriors.
“I don’t like this,” Professor Gordon whispered to Rick. “I think we’d better get the tabu back up.” He motioned to Otera and told him what to say.
The natives looked at Otera as he talked, then, without aword, they walked back into the jungle. Rick and Gordon hurried after them and hastily strung the tabu line once more.
“I don’t like it,” Gordon said again. “Between them, Turk and Digger did just about
everything possible to prevent friendly relations.”
They returned in time to hear the finish of what Hartson Brant had to say to Turk Mallane.
“. . . and I’d prefer that you and your crew remain aboard the ship in the future, Captain.
That is an order.”
Turk’s face was brick red, but he accepted it.“All right. If brotherly love with a pack of natives is what you want, we’ll not interfere.” He stalked down to the shore and got into the boat where Digger was waiting.
“Your dad really told Turk off,” Scotty said as he and Rick took the empty ration box and the cans to the junk pile.
Chahda joined them, his face serious. “Plenty no good, what Turk and Digger do. You think we make friends with the natives now?”
“Not a chance,” Scotty said decisively.
“You’re right,” Rick agreed. “They’ve had their pride hurt, and they look to me like a pretty proud bunch. We’ll be lucky if we don’t have trouble with them.” He looked at the thin twine with its strips of handkerchief. “We’re putting a lot of faith in a hunk of string and some rags.”
Scotty glanced at the tabu line. “My faith in that thing isn’t what it used to be,” he admitted.
CHAPTER XIII
Trapped
The cable was running out from the main winch, lowering the Submobile for its first dive of the morning when Scotty told Rick what had been on his mind.
“I’m getting uneasy about leaving the camp. The natives were watching this morning.
There wasn’t a sound in the jungle.”
“”I noticed that.” Rick put a clamp on the power line and secured it to the cable. “Do you think they’ll break the tabu?”
Chahda joined them in time to hear Rick’s question. “I think maybe yes,” he said.
“Before, they would not. But now the dragon god is behind the tabu, and they want the dragon god.”
‘That’s what I think,” Scotty agreed. “And there’s something else we’ve kind of forgotten.How about our friend in the paint locker?”
“I haven’t forgotten him,” Rick denied. “But what can we do about him? Turk keeps him locked up, except for a while in the morning before we start diving and again at night when we’re through.”
“Is spooky businesses,” Chahda mused. “I get creeps in my bones.”
Zircon interrupted, calling an order to Digger Sears at the winch control. “Give them another five feet. They have something on the Sonoscope screen.”
“Another dragon?”Rick asked eagerly.
“Your father thinks it’s the inner wall of the temple,” the big scientist replied. “They’re going to pry a piece loose with the scoop, if they can.”
The boys waited, watching Zircon. Once the tone of the generator deepened and the cable moved a few inches. Down below, the Submobile would be jockeying for a better position.
“They have it!” Zircon boomed exultantly. “All right, Sears. Bring them up, but slowly.”
As the Submobile came up through the water Rick could make out a heavy slab of stone firmly locked between the jaws of the scoop. The stone was covered with what looked like a cross between Chinese picture writing and hieroglyphics.
It was a jubilant pair of scientists that climbed out of the Submobile. “We found the temple itself,” Hart-son Brant said. “It seems to be almost intact. With any luck, we should be able to bring up most of it.”
Professor Gordon had already hurried to the stone slab. “This is more than I had hoped for,” he exclaimed. “If we can translate it, we may find some of the answers archeologistshave been seeking for years. Hartson, I’d like to get this ashore at once.”
Turk Mallane had come out of the pilothouse to see what the Submobile had brought up. “Sure,” he said. “Here, I’ll give you a hand and we can put it into one of the small boats.”
In a moment, with one of the sailors helping, the slab was safely stowed. Gordon looked around. “I’d like someone to help me ashore. Who wants to go?”
“I go,” Chahda said quickly. He climbed into the boat and took the oars. In a moment he and Gordon were on their way to camp.
Turk stopped to speak to Rick and Scotty. “We’ve been lucky,” he said. “Even the weather has been on our side, but it’s not going to hold much longer.”
Rick looked at the cloudless sky. “Not much sign of bad weather now.”
“I know this part of the world,” Turk said. “Three days without rain is a long time.” He went back to the pilothouse.
Scotty stared after him. “We,” he said. “He talks as though he had a half share in the expedition.”
“He’s been pretty good about cooperating,” Rick pointed out. “I don’t like him much, because he blows hot and cold on alternate days. He can’t decide whether he wants to be a grouch or a good guy. But he’s been a lot of help.”
“Sure,” Scotty said. “Come on, let’s help check the Submobile.”
Hobart Zircon asked, “Want to go down with me, Scotty?”
Scotty definitely did and said so with enthusiasm. He and the scientist got into the Submobile and Rick and Hartson Brant tightened down the hatch. As they were
finishing, Turk came out of the pilothouse.
“I’ll give you a hand back here,” he offered. “The helmsman can keep the ship steady without me.”
“Are you sure?” Rick asked doubtfully.
“He’s a good man,” Turk replied. “Don’t worry.”
The second dive was as successful as the first. A few moments after they reached 590
feet, Scotty phoned up that they had a second piece of the temple slab. It proved to be
smaller than the first one, but bore even more interesting carvings depicting helmeted warriors going into battle
. Even through the layer of dirt Rick could see that the warriors had regular features. Their helmets were like those of ancientGreece .
Hartson Brant was excited over the find. “Gordon must see this right away,” he exclaimed. “Captain, will you have one of the men row me to camp?”
Turk motioned to one of the seamen. “Take Mr. Brant ashore, but come right back.” To the others, he explained with a grin, “I don’t like to have both of my lifeboats away at once. You never know when you’ll need one.”
Zircon looked around as the boat departed. “Our little group is depleted,” he said. “Do you suppose that could mean a double ration of lunch for us? Or has everyone but me forgotten that it is lunchtime?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Scotty approved. “Let’s see what Otera has for us.”
Otera had a fresh salad, sandwiches, and a cold, fruit drink.
Turk joined them at lunch on the hatch, and gestured toward the camp. “That’s the trouble with scientific enthusiasm. It makes you forget your meals.”
“There’s another case of rations ashore,” Scotty told him. “They can manage.”
Turk seemed inclined to talk. “How long do you think well be at this?” he asked Zircon.
The scientist shrugged. “That’s hard to say. Why do you ask?”
“I’d surely like to make one dive before we go back,” Turk said.
“Of course,” Zircon boomed. “The only professional among us and you haven’t been down yet. Unless we get further instructions from Hartson, why not go down this afternoon?”
“I’d appreciate the chance,” Turk said eagerly.
Rick didn’t quite know why he felt disapproval. “Will you go down with him, sir?” he asked Zircon.
The big scientist thought it over. “No,” he said finally. “I think one of us older folks should be on deck at all times. No offense, boys. I’m sure you understand. You may go
down with the captain, Rick.”
It would have been pointless to refuse. Rick nodded.
After lunch, the usual check of the Submobile was made. The sailor who had taken Hartson Brant ashore had returned, and Otera could lend a hand with the boom ropes, so there would be no shortage of help.
Rick climbed in followed by Turk, and the hatch swung closed behind them. In a moment they were settled, the phone circuit checked, and the order was given to swing them over the side.
Rick would have liked to watch out the forward observation port as they went down, but Turk gave him no chance. The captain was full of questions. He wanted to know everything about the operation of the Submobile. He listened eagerly to Rick’s explanations and made him repeat everything to be sure he had it straight.
It was natural enough, Rick thought. After all, Turk was a professional salvage man.
They hardly noticed the Submobile descent until Zircon called that they were at 585
feet. Rick turned on the Sonoscope and focused it with Turk watching over his shoulder.
The screen glowed with the green image of stairs, ending in what seemed to be a carved door.
Rick snapped on the searchlight and looked through the observation port. The light, an intense yellow at this depth, showed him the stairs, ending in the wall of the temple. A row of carvings on the wall had split away in some places. Evidently an ancient craftsman had carved his picture stories on thin squares of stone that were later cemented to the wall.
“I think we can get one of those,” Rick said. He gauged the distance, pausing to watch a deep-sea eel swim into the light and out again.
Turk’s black eyes were shining. “How do we do it?With the salvage arms or the scoop?”
“The scoop,” Rick answered. “The salvage arms are only for things big enough to slip a noose around, although they can be used to handle drills, or to set charges. We’ll have to get closer, Turk.”
“Here we go,” Turk said. He moved back and turned on the propeller motors. Rick watched to be sure he was doing it properly. Then Turk took the aft propeller control and moved it carefully. The Submobile swayed a little and drifted closer to the temple wall.
Turk retarded the control, working with it until the propeller was turning just enough to hold them in position with the scoop within easy reach of the wall.
Rick nodded. Turk had the touch, all right.
The captain grinned.“Easy as pie. Running this thing is a cinch.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Rick told him. “Dad and the others always plan a thing so that the controls will be simple enough for an untrained operator. Now, let’s go after that nearest slab.”
“How about letting me operate the scoop?” Turk asked.
“Okay.” Rick changed places with him.
Turk had the telephone mouthpiece slung around his neck and he kept it on as he moved into the forward operating position. He spoke to the deck. “We’re going after a piece of slab on the temple wall.”
Rick heard Zircon’s reply in his own earphones.“Right. All okay on deck.”
Turk took the pistol grips that controlled the salvage scoop and tried swinging it in order to get the feel of the controls. Then, watching the Sonoscope, he went after the slab.
Once he paused and refocused the image on the screen. After the briefest of tries, the scoop jaws locked firmly on the slab.
“Got it” he exclaimed. “Lad, this is the greatest machine I’ve ever seen. It will revolutionize diving.”
Rick nodded. “You operate the thing like a veteran, Turk.”
“Nothing to it,” Turk returned. He spoke into the mouthpiece. “Hello on deck. All quiet?”
“All quiet,” Zircon returned.
“Let me talk with Digger Sears, will you?”
Rick looked at the captain in surprise.
In a moment the mate’s voice came down the wire. “Aye, Turk?”
“Easy to operate as a hand shovel, Digger.How’s it lookon deck?”
“Good-0.”
“Then get to it.”
“Righto.”
The phone went dead.
“What was that about?” Rick demanded.
“Keep your shirt on,” Turk said. “Shutthose propeller motors off and let’s get clear for surfacing.”
Rick did so, a sudden apprehension forming within him. The feeling grew as the minutes passed and they did not move from the bottom. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Why are we sitting down here like this?”
Turk reached into his hip pocket and came out with a leather blackjack. He slapped it into the palm of his hand, his eyes on Rick.
“We’ll be going up as soon as your friends are taken care of.”
Rick’s heart jumped into his mouth. “Taken care of I”
“Oh, nothing serious,” Turk assured him, smiling, “unless they put up too much of a struggle.”
Rick leaned back against the wall and stared at the captain. He had a mental picture of Scotty and Zircon facing the entire crew, and maybe the Japanese stowaway!
“You’ve been waiting for a chance like this!” He burst out. “You waited until the party was split up. . . .”
“And until I had made a dive with a good teacher,” Turk finished.
“But why?”Rick asked hoarsely. He gauged the distance, and his legs drew up under him.
Turk leaned forward, his eyes hard. “Don’t try anything, kid. I’ll slug you if you give me half an excuse.”
Rick subsided, knowing that he didn’t have a chance.
“Tough lines,” Turk said. “We’re taking over, as of now. But we won’t be diving for the temple. We’re after big game!”
The words formed without thinking.“The ship on the bottom!” Of course! Why hadn’t he realized it all along?
“Yes,” Turk agreed. “That’s the Asamo over yonder. You never heard of her, I take it.
Few have. Sit quietly and give me no trouble and I’ll tell you about it.”
Rick nodded. There was nothing else he could
do. He was in an agony of worry for Scotty and Professor Zircon, but he couldn’t help them, trapped as he was with Turk Mallane in almost a hundred fathoms of water.
It was a strange tale that Turk told, starting in the first year of the war againstJapan . In the first months of the war, the Japanese had overrun a great part of southeasternAsia , and they had rifledSingapore , the Dutch Indies,Rabaul ,Manila ,Hong Kong , and other places of vast amounts of valuables. The cruiser Asamo had been sent to collect the smaller, more valuable stuff and to take it toJapan .
Netherlands Intelligence, through espionage agents in theIndies , had learned of the plan, and the Asamo’s route. A Dutch submarine, based atPerth,Australia , had been given orders to intercept the cruiser. The interception had taken place off Kwangara, and a torpedo had crippled the Asamo and sent her running for cover. A second torpedo caught her just off the tip of Little Kwangara and she had gone to the bottom.
Turk’s black eyes gleamed. “We don’t even know how much treasure she has, except that it’s counted in the millions. Gems, pearls, gold bullion, plate, even cash money.
There’s more than a million just in pearls. We know they got that much when theJaps butchered the Australian garrison atRabaul .”
Digger Sears spoke through the earphones.“Alldinkum , Turk. We’rebringin ’ you topside.”
“Much trouble?”Turk asked casually.
Rick’s heart stopped while he waited for the reply.
“Not much. Otera took a hand and we had to clip him. The others are in the galley. Hash isguardin ’ ‘em.”
Digger rang off, and in a moment the Submobile stirred and started its voyage upward.
“Hash isSoyu Hashimo,” Turk explained for Rick’s benefit. “He was an officer on the Asamo. He and Digger got together while Hash was in an Aussie prison camp. When the war ended, he sneaked Hash away and brought him to me. Wasn’t much I could do about it, on account of the Asamo being below divingdepth. Then I read a yarn in the papers about this expedition, and I saw the ad for a skipper.”
“The perfect answer, wasn’t it?” Rick said bitterly.
“Perfect,” Turk agreed. “If you’d been a little smarter, you could have added two and two. You almost caught Hash when he came to see me at the hotel. You saw him on the dock.”