“You must develop a taste for it,” Ramon said slyly. “Like Munchy Chewy Bar, no?”
“That’s right,” Joe muttered. “NO!”
Fortunately, just then, Danny jumped up and pointed out to sea, shading his eyes. “Look, it’s the Urchin,” he said. “She’s surfaced.”
The others turned to stare. The little ship had appeared, far out in the bay, and as they watched it began to move slowly toward the shore.
“Gosh, I wonder what they brought back?” Danny breathed.
“Maybe they found the treasure of Montezuma,” Ramon said with a broad grin.
“Treasure? What treasure?” Danny demanded.
Ramon cocked an eye at him. “You don’t know? I thought that was one of the reasons your friends went out in the little glass boat.”
“Never heard of it,” Joe said. “What’s the story?”
“Why, everyone around here knows of it,” said Ramon with a mysterious air. “You see, many hundreds of years ago the great king Montezuma fought with the Spanish invaders, led by Hernando Cortez. Cortez defeated the Aztecs and killed Montezuma, and when this happened the priests of the great Sun Temple took the golden image of the sun and ran away with it to the coast. They started to sail to Baja California, but a great storm arose and their boat was sunk.”
He shrugged. “Many men have searched for it, but they don’t know where it lies.”
“Do you?” Danny said.
Ramon stuck out his lower lip. “Maybe,” he said, half closing his eyes. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.”
People were running down the beach, and the Sea Urchin came gliding into the shallows. Captain Beaversmith climbed out of the conning tower and ran forward to let the anchor go. Ramon’s uncle, El Bagre, rowed out and in a very short time the Captain, Dr. Grimes, and Professor Bullfinch were on the beach. The young people ran to meet them.
“How did it go, Professor?” Danny cried.
“Did you find the treasure?” yelled Joe.
“Amazing, truly amazing,” said the Professor, beaming at the cheering crowd. “What? Treasure? No, we collected nothing, Joe. This was only a trial.”
“And she handles like a dream,” said Captain Beaversmith jovially. “Like piloting a rocking-horse. Why don’t we take the nippers out tomorrow for a ride?”
“Absolutely not,” said Dr. Grimes firmly. “I will not have children messing about with our work.”
“But gosh, Dr. Grimes,” said Joe, “There’s a buried treasure out there somewhere. A golden image of the sun—!”
“Ridiculous!” Dr. Grimes snapped. “The only treasure out there is to be found in the samples I intend to take from the floor of the ocean: radioactive ores, perhaps, or oil. You three will remain on shore.”
“Let’s not make hasty decisions,” smiled Professor Bullfinch. “We’ll see how things go. Come, Grimes, we must develop the pictures we took.”
He set off for the hotel. Danny and Irene turned to follow, but Joe remained staring out at the sea.
“Hey, Joe, come on,” said Danny.
“A golden image of the sun,” Joe said. “How about that? We’d be rich for life. I’d give anything if I could find out where it is.”
Ramon looked at him. “Anything? Would you give all the rest of those drops of root beer?”
Joe snorted. “Well, sure!”
“Joe!” Danny said. “Let’s go. So long, Ramon. See you soon.”
He pulled his friend by the arm. Ramon looked after them, nodding. “All the root beer drops, eh? Maybe I can arrange it,” he murmured.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Treasure Map
Danny was dreaming of the sea. In his dream he was swimming slowly beside a mermaid. Out of the depths a fish appeared holding a golden disk—an Aztec image of the sun. Danny was paralyzed. Closer and closer came the fish, grinning and gaping as he lighted his way with the sun image. “Hey!” Danny cried. “That’s hot! Get away from me!” The fish drew closer, and Danny’s face grew warmer, and suddenly he awoke with a strangled yell.
A bright beam of sunlight was coming through the Venetian blinds of the hotel bedroom window and striking right on his nose. He rubbed his eyes and yawned and jumped out of bed. He pulled up the blind and stepped out on the balcony. The sun blazed down upon the square; a few automobiles went by with a squealing of tires; and a seller of pumpkin seeds slowly pushed his cart into the shade.
“Boy, what a country!” Danny whispered. “We’ve been here for nine days now, and every day is brighter than the one before.”
He dragged Joe out of bed, complaining and wailing, and they put on their swimming trunks and light shirts. Then they went to meet Irene who was already up, dressed in a bathing suit and shirt, and leaning over her own balcony watching the square. They went down to the dining room and Danny, who had been practicing Spanish, ordered huevos fritos con jamòn with a great air of nonchalance.
The young people were busily eating their ham and eggs when the two scientists and Captain Beaversmith came in.
Professor Bullfinch blinked at Danny’s plate. “Hmm,” he said. “Don’t you think you ought to learn the Spanish words for some other kind of breakfast, Dan?”
“But I like ham and eggs,” Danny protested.
“I’ve been learning all kinds of words from reading the signs on shops,” said Joe. “The only trouble is I never get a chance to use those words when I’m talking to anybody.”
“What kind of words?” asked Dr. Grimes, tucking his napkin under his chin.
“Oh, for instance, plomero, or ferretería—those are ‘plumber’ and ‘hardware.’ And I learned a good one yesterday—fabricante de dentaduras.”
He sighed and shook his head. “But I don’t know how I can ever get that into a conversation with Ramon.”
“Why? What does it mean?” asked Professor Bullfinch.
“Maker of false teeth,” said Joe mournfully.
Captain Beaversmith laughed. “Very simple, my lad. You’re always discussing food with Ramon, aren’t you? You simply say, in Spanish, ‘Ramon, let us not eat so many sweets, or we will have to go to the maker of false teeth.’”
“Yes,” added Professor Bullfinch with a chuckle, “and you can also say, ‘My stomach feels peculiar; I shall have to find a plumber.’”
Dr. Grimes broke in, “I don’t wish to put a stop to all your merriment, but I’d like to remind you that we plan to make a deep dive this morning. Are we almost ready?”
“How far down are you going, Professor?” Danny said.
“We hope to get to seven hundred fathoms,” Professor Bullfinch answered. “That’s nearly a mile. And what are you young people planning?”
“I’m going to gather shells for my collection,” said Irene.
“I’m working on a poem,” Joe said.
“Well,” said Danny, “I’m going to try to record the sounds of starfish.”
The Professor raised his eyebrows. “Starfish? Do they make any sounds?”
“I don’t know,” said Danny. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“Yesterday he tried to get the sounds of crabs. He kept following one little crab around for an hour, but it wouldn’t talk to him,” said Joe.
“Maybe it was just sulky,” Irene said.
“Maybe crabs don’t make any sounds,” said Captain Beaversmith.
“Well, a scientist mustn’t be discouraged,” Danny said stoutly. “I haven’t had much luck so far, but I’m going to keep trying.”
They finished breakfast, and then they all went off to the shore. The three men were rowed out to the Sea Urchin; Irene took her collecting basket and went strolling along the beach, while Joe settled himself comfortably with his back against a heap of sand so that he could think better. Danny took his tape recorder and began searching the rock pools near
one arm of the bay. Professor Bullfinch’s friend, Dr. Brenton, had loaned the boy a hydrophone, a special underwater microphone with great sensitivity, and he had waterproofed his tape recorder so that he could continue his attempts to record the sounds of fish. The pools were full of starfish of all sorts—some with spotted or striped arms, some with many slender arms like little snakes—and he faithfully held his microphone near all of them. But at last he was forced to admit to himself that either his microphone wasn’t quite sensitive enough, or else starfish didn’t make sounds, either.
“Or else, they just don’t feel like talking,” he thought sadly, as he walked back up the beach to join the others. “After all, I feel that way myself, sometimes, so why shouldn’t they?”
He woke Joe, and they went in for a swim together, and a short time later Irene joined them with her basket full of shells. They were inspecting her finds when Ramon came up.
“Ole, amigos,” he called. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” Danny said. “We’re waiting for the Sea Urchin. It should be coming back any minute now.”
Ramon turned to Joe. “Have you still got some drops of root beer, José?”
“Sure,” said Joe. “Lots of them. Why?”
Ramon squatted down on the sand. “Don’t you remember, you said you would give all the rest of them if you could find out where the treasure of the Aztecs lies?”
Joe sat up straight. “Have you got a map?”
Ramon nodded.
“Let’s see it,” said Danny.
Ramon reached into the front of his shirt and brought out a folded piece of what looked like parchment.
“Where’d you get it?” Joe demanded.
“From my uncle, El Bagre. I told him what you wanted. First, he laughed a long time. Then he was very solemn. Then he went into the shed, and when he came out he gave me this.”
Danny reached for it.
“Wait,” said Ramon. “First, the drops.”
“You can trust Joe,” Danny said. “If this is really a map showing where the treasure is, we’ll see to it he gives you the candy.”
He took the map. “Feels like old parchment, all right,” he said.
The other two crowded close, holding their breath. Slowly, he unfolded it. Then his mouth fell open in astonishment.
The piece of parchment was perfectly blank, except for a small cross in the very center and two words. The words were Oceano Pacifco.
“The cross,” said Ramon, “is where the treasure lies.”
“Hey, now wait a minute,” Joe spluttered. “In the middle of the Pacific Ocean? We knew that!”
Ramon looked hurt. “I cannot help that,” he said. “You said that you would give anything for a map showing where the treasure is.”
“But—” said Joe.
“My uncle said that this is a true map of where the treasure is.”
“But—”
“A bargain is a bargain. No?”
“But—but—”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Joe,” said Danny, somewhere between laughter and disappointment. “You owe him the root-beer drops.”
“Okay,” said Joe bitterly. “I know when I’m licked. I’m going to keep this map though. Someday, I just might be in the middle of the ocean… I never did like root-beer drops,” he added, getting to his feet. “I prefer octopus, any day!”
CHAPTER NINE
The Language of Fish
When the Sea Urchin came back to the surface from its seven-hundred-fathom dive, it brought such interesting specimens in its collecting tanks that they almost made up for the disappointment of the treasure map.
The three young people were allowed to come on board after the ship had anchored. The deck of the cabin was wet, and there was a fishy, salty smell in the air. Every inch of space was full of jars and tubs in which were sea cucumbers, starfish, anemones, larval shrimp, fish, and shellfish of all sorts.
“But come and look at these,” said the Professor proudly. “Here are the real prizes of the dive.”
He led the three children to the big collecting tank, which was attached to the suction pump in the after end of the cabin. Its compartments were now filled with sea water, and as the young people bent over them they saw in the first one some flashes of pale light.
“Fireflies!” said Joe. “Water fireflies?”
The Professor laughed. “Firefishes would be more accurate.”
He snapped on a light above the tank. They could see, now, that in the compartment were a number of fish no more than two or three inches long. They had large, sad, wide-open mouths, bulging eyes, and flat, almost transparent bodies. Along their sides and bellies were shimmering pink lights that made the water of the tank glow.
“They are a variety of Argyropelecus, or hatchetfish,” the Professor explained. “We found this type a good deal farther down than is usual.”
“And the lights help them find their way around, is that it?” asked Danny.
The Professor tapped his teeth with his pipe-stem. “Well, we’re not sure what the lights do,” he replied. “Perhaps they attract food. There are several theories, but no one really knows. They aren’t the only luminous fish in the depths. Look here.”
He pointed into the second compartment. Three fairly large fish, over a foot long, swam in it. They were snaky-looking, and their heads had round staring eyes and large mouths, with oversized curved teeth. Like the hatchetfish, their skin was transparent and even their teeth were like cloudy glass. Their sides were studded with beautiful glowing lights, like the portholes of a ship at night.
“Chauliodus,” said the Professor. “A variety of viperfish.”
“Whew! I wouldn’t like to have half a dozen of those things coming after me,” said Joe.
“Oh, I don’t think you need worry. They live deep in the sea, and they’re more interested in eating hatchetfish than boys.”
Danny had brought along his tape recorder. He said, “Please, Professor, can I try to make some recordings of them?”
“I don’t see why not,” Professor Bullfinch said. “I don’t think they make any audible sound, however.”
“Still trying for the language of fish, eh?” Dr. Grimes said. He joined them at the tank, wiping preserving fluid from his hands with a towel.
“Plong,” said Danny. Carefully, he lowered the hydrophone into the tank full of hatchetfish.
“I beg your pardon,” said Dr. Grimes. “Did you say, ‘wrong’?”
“Plong,” said Irene. “It means yes, in fish talk.”
“What? Fish talk?” Both Dr. Grimes and the Professor stared at her.
“Oh, not in real fish language,” Irene hastened to add. “We’ve made up our own secret language out of the sounds of different fish. We use it once in a while for fun.”
“Beware!” said Captain Beaversmith, coming up behind them. “If you talk like a fish, you may grow to look like a fish. How does it go?
‘Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea change…”
“Shakespeare?” said Joe.
“Yes. The Tempest.”
“Ha!” Joe exclaimed. “I can hear poems from May to December, But poets’ names I can’t remember.”
“Who wrote that?” chuckled the Captain.
“Me,” said Joe cheerfully.
“You mean ‘I,’” said Irene primly.
“Chirk,” said Joe. “Which in fish talk means, ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do you always have to correct me?’”
Danny pulled up the hydrophone, rewound the tape a little way, and turned the recorder switch on. He started it, and from the amplifier came a series of faint cheeps, li
ke small sleepy birds.
“Great heavens!” exclaimed the Professor. Remarkable! You have actually recorded some sounds of this particular Argyropelecus. Grimes, this is splendid, a real contribution to the work of our expedition. Don’t you agree?”
Dr. Grimes nodded reluctantly. “Very interesting, certainly,” he said.
Danny shot a quick glance at Irene. Then he said innocently, “Do you really think it’s important, Dr. Grimes?”
“Well, I—” Dr. Grimes began, but the Professor interrupted him.
“Every bit of information we can acquire about the sea is important,” he said. “We may not understand its value right now, but it will have importance some day. For instance, when Professor Piccard made his first balloon flight into the stratosphere, many people could not understand its use. Today, however, with flights into the stratosphere almost commonplace, we recognize the value of his investigations in the development of high-altitude aviation and space flight.”
“I see,” said Danny slowly. “Then, don’t you think it would be a good thing if I took my recording machine down on the next deep dive you make?”
Professor Bullfinch snorted with amusement, and Captain Beaversmith roared with laughter. “You might have a little trouble getting outside the ship to make recordings,” said the Professor. “But I can recognize a good strong hint when I hear one. You all want to go down with us, don’t you?”
“It’s impossible,” snapped Dr. Grimes.
The Professor raised his eyebrows. “My dear Grimes, nothing is impossible,” he said. “Some things are just harder to believe than others.”
Dr. Grimes tightened his lips. “I will not have children fooling about with the serious affairs of science,” he said.
“Tut, tut!” the Professor smiled. “Is this ‘Snapper’ Grimes I hear talking? The same person who at the age of fourteen wrote a paper on the binary system which made his science teacher furious? And didn’t that teacher say to you, at that time, that children shouldn’t fool about with the serious affairs of science?”
Dr. Grimes’s cheeks turned red. The Professor quietly lit his pipe. And Captain Beaversmith, running his fingers through his unkempt hair, said, “As a matter of fact, I don’t see why the kids shouldn’t have a go. They’ve been jolly good sports so far, and they have behaved well. I say, let ’em come along tomorrow—not for a deep ’un, but down to a couple of hundred fathoms. As far as the ship is concerned, we’ve seen for ourselves how safe it is.”
Danny Dunn on the Ocean Floor Page 4