Danny Dunn on the Ocean Floor

by Raymond Abrashkin

  “We don’t know yet,” said Danny. “Go on.”

  “Yes, well, one war story is very much like another, you know. That’s the trouble. They seem to rush together and blend into one story, sometimes. ‘So may a thousand actions, once afoot, End in one purpose…’ Shakespeare.”

  “Gee, you know a lot of poetry,” said Joe enviously.

  “One of the few advantages of an English public school education,” said the Captain. “They encourage you to look at poetry.”

  “Have you ever written any yourself?” Danny asked.

  “Alas, no. All I can do is quote other people’s.”

  “Joe’s going to be a writer when he grows up,” Irene said. “You ought to hear some of his poetry.”

  “I should like that very much,” said the Captain courteously.

  But just at that moment Professor Bullfinch came forward, shading his eyes with his hand. “Captain Beaversmith,” he called. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I wonder if you’d come down into the hold with us.”

  “Certainly, Professor,” The Captain got to his feet. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Oh, no. But Dr. Grimes and I want to inspect the mesoscaphe. We’ll be in Nomata tomorrow, and we want to make a last checkup.”

  “Can we come, too, Professor?” Danny cried, springing up.

  “Yes, of course. Dr. Grimes is waiting for us below.”

  He led the way to the hold. The Acapulco had a very large hold in the center of the ship, designed to carry machinery and automobiles, and into this the mesoscaphe was fitted, carefully held in a wooden cradle and lashed down with cables. In the gloomy hold it looked like a fairy ship, its plastic sides gleaming like glass. It seemed much too fragile to carry men to the sea bottom.

  A rope ladder dangled down its side from the conning tower, for, like a tiny submarine, it had a deck and a conning tower with a hatch. The Professor clambered nimbly up the ladder, followed by Captain Beaversmith and the three children. There was a metal ladder inside the conning tower, and they climbed down this into the little cabin. Through the transparent hull of the undersea laboratory, they could see the walls of the hold, lighted by a couple of bare electric bulbs.

  “Golly,” said Joe, “are you sure this plastic will really keep the water out?”

  “We have estimated,” said the Professor, “that the three-inch-thick shell will resist a pressure of nearly ten tons to the square inch.”

  “I hope you estimated right,” Joe mumbled. “It would be a shame to get down to the bottom and find that you were wrong by a couple of zeros.”

  “If it’s so light in weight, though,” said Irene, “what will make it sink to the bottom?”

  “In the first place,” said the Captain, “we’ll have two batteries fastened on deck to give us our electric lights. Each one weighs thirteen hundred pounds. There are other batteries in the ship to power the motors. We will also carry about a ton of ballast in the form of lead pellets, or shot. And we have tanks fore and aft, on both sides of the ship—you can see them better from the outside as bulges in the hull. Those can be pumped full of sea water. All this weight will take us down. Then, when we want to shoot back to the surface, we blow the tanks—that is, pump out the sea water—drop the shot, and ditch our batteries, and up she rises, ‘earlye in the morning,’ as the old song has it.”

  He was interrupted by a roaring sound and a loud yell from the after part of the cabin. Everyone turned in alarm. Danny was clinging to the side of a big square tank, and his hair was blowing straight out as if from a large electric fan. Captain Beaversmith made his way as quickly as he could to the spot and seized a small wheel. He gave it a half turn and then pushed a lever. The roaring stopped.

  Danny smoothed down his hair. “What—what happened?” he gasped.

  “We might ask the same thing,” said Dr. Grimes sternly. “You’ve only been in the ship five minutes, young man, and you’re already beginning to wreck her.”

  “Not quite as bad as that,” said the Professor. “And I’m sure it was an accident.”

  “I was only looking into this tank,” Danny said, “just to see what it was, and my foot slipped. I grabbed that lever to hold myself steady. Next thing I knew, a hurricane started to blow on me from the tank.”

  “Ah, that’s our suction pump intake,” said the Professor. “You see, that long tube connects with an intake valve outside the hull. When we want to take in any interesting specimens, we manipulate the hose just like a—well, a vacuum cleaner. It has a new type of motor that creates a powerful suction, and it sucks the specimens into this tank, along with sea water so they can be kept alive. Of course, there’s no water outside now, so nothing but air came in. But really, Dan, you’d better try not to touch anything else.”

  “Here are the grab-arms,” said Captain Beaversmith, motioning to what looked like a pair of metal sleeves hanging from rods in the ceiling.” Another wonderful collecting device, I must say. These are fastened to jointed arms outside the hull, with claws on the ends of them. By putting your arms in the sleeves, you can move the outside claws to pick things up. They can then be brought inside through an air lock.”

  “Everything is just as we planned it,” beamed the Professor, “the air-purification system, the remote-control searchlights, all the instruments. I suggest we work over the ship from stem to stern, Captain Beaversmith, and make sure everything is in order so the mesoscaphe can be put in the water tomorrow when we arrive.”

  “Then perhaps the urchins had better leave,” said the Captain. “It is a trifle crowded with six of us in the cabin.”

  “Urchins?” said Joe. “Who are they?”

  “Us, silly,” said Irene. “Urchins means kids. You’d better learn some more words if you plan to be a writer. Coming, Danny?”

  Danny was staring absent-mindedly into space. He said, “Wait a sec. I’ve got an idea—”

  “Oh-oh,” groaned Joe.

  “No ideas here, please, Dan,” said the Professor warningly.

  “This is just an idea for a name for the ship,” Danny protested. “How about Sea Urchin?”

  “Not bad,” said Captain Beaversmith. “But a sea urchin is also a round, prickly little creature, and the mesoscaphe is cigar-shaped and smooth. I’m afraid it won’t do.”

  “Sure it will,” Joe snickered. “Professor Bullfinch is round. And Dr. Grimes is prickly. It just fits.”

  Dr. Grimes drew himself up, frowning. But the Professor burst into laughter and clapped Danny on the shoulder. “And you three are certainly urchins,” he cried. “An excellent name.” He beamed round at the others. “Let us get to work at once. And when we are done, we’ll all meet in the dining room and drink a toast to success—to the Sea Urchin, long may she happily dive!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Trial Dive

  Professor Bullfinch rubbed his hands, looking about the sunny public square of Nomata. Behind him rose the pink stucco front of their hotel, the Hotel Grande, and beyond, between the trunks of feathery coconut palms, could be glimpsed the deep blue of the Pacific. An air of sleepiness and tranquility hung over the red tile roofs of the town.

  “Delightful,” he said. “We should be very comfortable here.”

  Dr. Grimes scowled. “Please remember, Bullfinch,” he said, “that we are here to work. We did not choose this locality for comfort, but because of the variety and quantity of marine life in this area.”

  “You mean we can’t have any fun at all?” Danny asked sadly.

  “Fun?” said Dr. Grimes, as if he had found a fly swimming in his soup. “I wish I had never listened to Bullfinch, but had insisted on leaving you all home. However, since you might possibly be considered co-discoverers of the plastic, and your parents were foolish enough to let you come, bear in mind that your basic duty will be to keep out of the way and not interfere with work.”

&nbs
p; “That’s easy,” said Joe. “I just love not interfering with work.”

  The Professor cleared his throat. “I suggest,” he put in, “that we go to the waterfront. Captain Beaversmith must have the Sea Urchin ready by now.”

  They set off down the single, paved main street, between rows of neat adobe houses painted in soft pinks, yellows, and creamy whites. The street opened onto a wide road that skirted the edge of the curving bay. White sand and dark boulders ran down to the water, and on either side of the bay huge rocks, their bases girdled with white foam, guarded the entrance. Fishermen’s huts lined the shore, and there were nets everywhere stretched on wooden frames, drying in the sun.

  When they came out on the beach they found quite a crowd collected at one point. “I’ll bet that’s the Sea Urchin,” Danny said. “They’ve never seen anything like her.”

  He was right. The glistening little vessel bobbed in the shallows, reflecting the bright sun as if she were made of gold. Most of the town had turned out to stare at the strange sight: there were women in black dresses, fishermen in dirty white duck pants and broad-brimmed straw hats, and even businessmen and merchants who had deserted their shops and offices to stare and point and chatter and take photographs.

  Dr. Grimes and the Professor pushed their way through the crowd. They found Captain Beaversmith standing barefoot in the surf, deep in talk with a brown old fisherman. When he caught sight of them, he smiled and waved.

  “Welcome to the fiesta!” he shouted.

  “How is everything?” said the Professor.

  “Smashing!” the Captain replied.

  “What—broken to bits?” said Joe. “I knew there’d be trouble.”

  “No, no, simply an expression,” chuckled the Captain. “Means tiptop shape. I’ve just arranged with El Bagre, here, to rent his rowboat as a daily taxi to the Urchin.”

  The fisherman nodded and smiled, his white teeth shining in his leathery face. A plump, moon-faced boy of about Danny’s age stood beside him. This boy said, “My uncle does not speak very much English, so I will be the translator. He is very proud that you choose his boat.”

  “Good show,” said the Captain. “Here, you urchins, this is Ramon. He’s been helping out this morning, getting things shipshape.”

  “Hello,” said Danny, putting out his hand.

  “I am pleased to meet you,” Ramon said gravely, shaking hands first with Danny, then with Joe and Irene.

  “Is your last name Bagre, too, like your uncle’s?” Danny asked.

  Ramon’s face split in a grin. “We are not named Bagre. He is called El Bagre—that means a catfish—because of his whiskers. Our name is Almazan.”

  “Well, gentlemen, are you ready for the trial dive?” Captain Beaversmith was saying to the two scientists.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” said Professor Bullfinch.

  “‘A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays and confident tomorrows,’” smiled the Captain. “Wordsworth. Very well, then, into the boat. El Bagre will row us out.”

  “You three young people will wait for us on the beach,” said the Professor. “Irene, your mother’s relatives will be here at noon to visit you, so please be sure you don’t vanish. I rely on you to keep an eye on the boys.”

  The Captain helped the Professor and Dr. Grimes into the rowboat, and they went out to the Urchin. They climbed aboard, the hatch was closed, and El Bagre brought his boat back to shore. Very slowly, the Sea Urchin began to move out into the bay. When she was halfway out, where the bottom dropped to nearly eight fathoms, or about forty-eight feet, she began to descend. The sunlight winked from her hull, and then, suddenly, she was gone.

  The dive was planned to last half an hour, and the three friends and Ramon sat down on the sand to wait.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Food for Thought

  “Gosh, I wonder what they’re seeing now,” Danny said wistfully, poking holes in the damp sand with his finger. “All sorts of wonderful things, I’ll bet. Maybe sunken treasure, or strange fish…”

  “Or mermaids,” giggled Irene.

  “Oh, be serious.”

  “I am serious. You know what the Professor told us: scientists still don’t know much about the sea. For all we know maybe there are mermaids.”

  Joe had been sitting with his back against a warm rock. He said lazily, “I wonder, if they found mermaids, how they’d count them—as fish or people? Because, if they were fish, you could eat them, and if they were people, they’d have to vote.”

  Danny took a long breath of the salty air. “Mmm,” he said. “It sure smells good. I wish we could go down to the bottom with them in the Urchin. If only Dr. Grimes weren’t such a grouch.”

  “Well have plenty to do anyway,” Irene said comfortingly. “There’s the countryside and the town to explore, and we can swim, and Captain Beaversmith has promised to teach us skin diving… Golly, doesn’t it make you feel all tingly with excitement?”

  Joe squinted up at the sun. “It must be nearly noon,” he said. “You know how that makes me feel?”

  “How?”

  “Hungry.” He glanced at Ramon, who had been squatting, listening to them with a solemn expression on his face. “You look like a boy who enjoys eating. Maybe you can steer me to some good local dishes?”

  “Oh, you like to eat?” said Ramon. “I do, too. Maybe we can trade, eh? Did you bring some American delicadeza—something tasty?”

  Joe scrambled to his feet. “Sure,” he replied. “I always carry emergency rations with me. I’ve got some up at the hotel. I’ll get them, and you go home and get some interesting things to eat, and we’ll meet back here. Okay?”

  “Interesting?” Ramon raised his eyebrows. “That’s what you like? Seguramente! That means okay.”

  It took only a few minutes for the two to run their errands. Joe came panting back with a paper bag, and a moment or two later Ramon trotted along the sand with a basket on his arm.

  “A couple of experimental scientists,” Danny snickered, rolling over and sitting up. “I hope you two will be very happy together.”

  “Oh, I’d love to try some of Ramon’s delicacies,” Irene said. “May I?”

  “Of course,” said Ramon. He sat down and began fishing in the contents of his basket.

  Joe opened his bag and brought out a somewhat sticky roll of candy with a silver paper wrapper. “Here,” he said. “Try mine first.”

  Ramon took it gingerly and peeled off the wrapper. “It looks like mud with little stones in it,” he said.

  “It kind of melted a little,” Joe admitted. “It’s good though. It’s called a Munchy Chew Bar.”

  Ramon began reading what was written on the wrapper. “It says,” he muttered, “that it contains cocoa, powdered milk, lecithin, peanuts, vanillin, and artificial flavor. It doesn’t sound very nice. What is this lecithin?”

  “I don’t know,” said Joe, “but lots of candy has it, so it must be good.”

  Ramon took a cautious bite. “Ook!” he said. “I eef uck oo ewer.”

  “What?” said Joe. “What’s the matter?”

  “He says his teeth are stuck together,” Danny translated. “Keep working on it, Ramon. It’ll just let go all of a sudden, and you’ll be able to talk again.”

  Ramon managed to free his teeth. “No me gusta,” he said firmly. “I don’t like it.”

  “Well,” said Joe, “it just takes a little getting used to. Like olives, you know. You don’t like the taste of them at first, and then you get used to them. Let me try one of your dishes, now.”

  Ramon took out a clay bowl in which were small bits of some sort of green vegetable. Cautiously, Joe took a taste.

  “It’s kind of odd,” he said swallowing. “A sort of pale-green flavor. What is it?”

  “Nopalitos,” said Ramon. “Cactus.”

 
“Cactus?” Joe turned pale. “Oh my gosh! I can feel the spikes sticking into my stomach already.”

  “Don’t be silly, Joe,” said Irene, calmly. She had taken some of the vegetable, too, as had Danny. “There aren’t any spikes. It’s pretty good, in fact.”

  “A scientist should be open-minded,” Danny said severely, “and should experiment with new things. That’s what Professor Bullfinch always says. This isn’t bad at all. It tastes a little like asparagus.”

  Joe opened his bag again. “All right,” he said to Ramon. “Try this.”

  He held out a small brown square. “These are root-beer drops. Not everybody likes them, but I think they’re refreshing.”

  Ramon licked his lips. Then, reluctantly, he took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. He smiled broadly. “Ah-h-h,” he said. “That is something to eat. Gracias, José.”

  He reached into his basket and took out a large gray pancake rolled up around something.

  “This is a tortilla,” he said. “It is a corn-meal pancake, and we use them like bread.” He unrolled it. Inside were some strips of what looked like bicycle tire, grayish-white and rubbery.

  Joe hesitated for a moment. At last he took a piece and bit into it. “Hey, not bad,” he said.

  The other two tried it, and Irene said, “It’s chewy, isn’t it? Is it a kind of fish, Ramon?”

  “Yes,” Ramon nodded. “That is pulpo. You know, the one that swims backward, with eight arms…”

  “Eight a-a-arms?” Joe stammered.

  Danny gulped. “Suddenly I don’t feel very scientific,” he said. “I have a kind of feeling that what he means is octopus.”

  “That’s right. Octopus,” Ramon smiled. “You said you wanted something interesting.”

  “I don’t know what you boys are being so squirmy about,” Irene said cheerfully. “It’s good. What’s the difference whether it has eight arms or no arms? You eat oysters, don’t you? And clams?”