“What now?” Dr. Grimes asked.
“I believe we’ve just touched the opposite wall of the canyon.” The Captain shut off the motors. “Well, since we can’t get free of the mud cloud, let’s have a look at the pump control.”
He opened the cover and bent over the wiring with a screwdriver and pliers. He worked in silence as they watched anxiously, and finally he raised his head.
“Done!” he said. “I believe the pumps will work now. The question is, where’s the lever?”
He leaned back in the seat with a worried look and thrust his hands into his pockets. Then, slowly, his face changed: first, he scowled at the ceiling, then he began to laugh.
“Grimes!” the Professor whispered. “It’s the blow on his head. He’s getting hysterical.”
“I’ll grab one arm, and you grab the other,” said Grimes.
But before they could move, Captain Beaversmith slowly took his hands out of his pockets. In his right hand was the missing lever.
“There’s one place you didn’t search,” he said. “I remember, now. To get the cover off the control board, it is necessary to unscrew the lever. For safekeeping, I put it in my pocket. I’m sorry, I’m afraid it was a little too safely kept.”
They all sighed with relief, and Dr. Grimes almost smiled. Quickly, the Captain replaced the lever.
“Right!” he said. “Now, I’m going to drop the ballast and blow the sea-water tanks. Got torches handy?”
The Professor took out several large battery-powered lanterns and lighted them.
“Jolly good,” said the Captain. “Going up, gents.”
He pressed several buttons and threw over the lever. The lights went out as the batteries which supplied them were disconnected, and they heard a thunderous rumble which meant the heavy battery cases were dropping from the deck above. The shot ballast went rattling out of its silo, and they could hear the hissing of the pumps as the water in the outer ballast tanks was forced out. The Professor handed a lantern to Dr. Grimes and placed another on the control board next to the Captain.
“Are we going up?” Joe whispered to Danny. “I can never feel any movement.”
“That’s because there’s no vibration, I guess,” Danny answered.
Just as he finished speaking, the ship jarred under their feet. It was like being in an elevator which has stopped short.
Captain Beaversmith glanced up. “Shine one of those flashlights through the side,” he snapped. “See if the mud particles are moving.”
Dr. Grimes hastened to do as he asked. “Nothing appears to be moving,” he said.
The Captain glanced at a couple of dials. “The vertical speed indicator isn’t registering,” he said. “And the depth gauge shows that we’re still down around nine thousand feet.”
“You mean, something’s holding us down?” said Dr. Grimes. “But what? We’ve dropped all our ballast. Why don’t we ascend?”
“Maybe it’s a—a giant squid,” quavered Joe.
Captain Beaversmith shook his head. “Not likely,” he said. “One can only surmise, of course, but I suspect that we have gone in under an overhanging ledge, or perhaps into a cave of some sort. We are bumping against the top of it.”
“Well, but—but—can’t we move at all?” said Irene.
“We can still move forward and backward,” said the Captain. “The propeller batteries are inside the ship.”
“Then let’s move!” said Dr. Grimes. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get out of here.”
“A good point,” said the Captain quietly. “The only problem is that we don’t know where we are. So it’s a bit difficult to know how to get out. For all we know, the mouth of the cave—if it is a cave—may have been covered up by the avalanche.”
Dr. Grimes sank slowly to a seat. “Then we’re trapped!”
“I’ll admit, it is rather sticky,” said the Captain. “Our best chance is to wait for the cloud of mud to settle. Then, perhaps by using our flashlights we can see through the hull and find our way out.”
“Hmmm,” said the Professor. “And suppose it takes hours—or days—for the mud to settle.”
“That,” said the Captain, “might be decidedly awkward.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Water, Water, Everywhere…
For a few moments which seemed as long as a year, the explorers said nothing. A weight of depression, even greater than they had felt earlier, settled on them. It was hard, after being so close to freedom, to have it snatched away again.
Dr. Grimes said in a dull voice, “Our air won’t last forever. And what about food?”
“Air isn’t the major problem with the purification system we have,” said the Captain. “It’s fresh water I’m worrying about. We haven’t very much—less than ten gallons among the six of us.”
“Seems funny,” Danny said, trying hard to smile, “to think of dying of thirst under water.”
“We could change the old poem,” said the Captain. “‘Into the jaws of death rode the six of us. Water to right of us, water to left of us…’ And so on.”
“Don’t tell me who wrote it,” Joe said dolefully. “I don’t like it. It’s too realistic.”
Danny turned to the Professor. “What do you say, Professor Bullfinch?”
“I don’t think we ought to waste valuable breath or time on worry,” the Professor answered with his usual cheeriness. “I suggest that we relax. Keep as quiet as possible so we don’t waste energy. Something will turn up.”
He took one of the lanterns and went back to the middle of the ship. He bent over the Sun Image and began scraping off some of the mud and shellfish which covered it.
“What are you doing?” Danny said.
“Well, I thought while I was waiting, I might as well do a little analyzing of this material from the floor of the sea,” said the Professor. He carried his specimens to the laboratory bench, put the lantern nearby, and set to work.
“Do as you like, Bullfinch,” said Dr. Grimes in a hollow tone. “I am going to make my last will and testament.”
And he took out a piece of paper and a fountain pen and began writing.
Captain Beaversmith got up and went to his blanket. “For my part,” he said, “I’m going to follow the Professor’s suggestion. I’m still a bit fuzzy from that rap on the skull. I’m going to get some rest. You youngsters take my torch and shine it through the side from time to time. As soon as the water begins to clear, call me.”
The three young people huddled down together on the floor near the control board. Dan held the lantern pressed against the plastic wall and from time to time snapped it on. Each time, the same yellow-gray curtain met his gaze.
“What do you think, Dan?” Irene said softly. “Will we ever get back?”
“I don’t know,” said Danny. “But I do know that I’m going to try to act like a real scientist—like the Professor. He isn’t afraid of anything, and neither am I…I guess.”
But in spite of his words, he swallowed hard. Irene put her head on her knees. “You’re right. I’m going to try to be the same. But it—it isn’t easy.”
Joe said, “This is real trouble. Worse than I can remember. You know how I know it? Because I don’t feel hungry any more—just scared.”
“You predicted it, Joe,” Danny said, trying to joke. “Remember, long ago, when the Professor first said they might make an undersea ship out of the plastic? You said you knew there was trouble waiting for us at the bottom of the sea.”
“Yeah,” said Joe. “Somebody must have been listening to me and didn’t want me to be disappointed. Well, okay. I’m not.”
They fell silent, and the minutes ticked by. Joe and Irene dozed off to sleep in spite of their worry, for it had been a long day, full of excitement and tension. Danny remained wide awake. His mind was too full of guilt to let hi
m rest.
“It’s all my fault,” he said to himself. “If only I hadn’t thought so much of my tape recorder, and more about everybody’s welfare. Instead of worrying about whether the recorder was broken, I should have thought of poor Dr. Grimes’s film. If only I hadn’t put the machine on that shelf! If only I hadn’t meddled with those wires!”
He sighed. “Oh, gee. Why don’t I have the sense not to jump into things without thinking them out first?”
He looked down at Irene and Joe, who were lying on either side of him. Then he sighed again and got up, carefully so as not to disturb them. He went to the bench where the Professor was examining something in a test tube.
“Professor Bullfinch,” Danny said in a low voice.
“Yes, my boy?”
“I—I really feel awful.”
The Professor raised his eyebrows. “Stomachache?”
“No, I don’t mean that kind of awful. I mean, I feel that this mess is all my fault. We wouldn’t be stuck down here if it weren’t for me.”
“Hmm. I see. You mean that you persuaded us to go on this expedition, is that it?”
“Well, no, of course not.”
The Professor put his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “My dear boy,” he said, “I’ll admit you have a habit of acting somewhat hastily. But we all wanted to come, and when we did we took the risk of accidents happening. I said that I would be personally responsible for your coming along. It was the Captain who jumped up in alarm, instead of sitting calmly in his seat as he should have done. It was I who said we should pull out the Sun Image, and Dr. Grimes who pulled it out, thus causing the avalanche.”
Danny nodded. “Yes, you’re right. But still, I promise I’m not going to act without thinking, from now on. “And,” he added firmly, “I promise I won’t touch my tape recorder any more, either.”
“Very well,” said the Professor.
Danny went back to his place feeling a little better and knelt down. He took up the flashlight and shone it through the hull.
The water was clearing. There was still a great deal of mud floating in it, but the beam of his light now shot out for several feet in a misty glow. And twinkling like a tiny star just outside that beam, was a hatchetfish.
Danny pressed his face against the plastic. “Chirp!” he whispered. “Chirp, cheep!”
As if it could hear him, the little fish swam closer to the hull. It darted through the beam of the light and away again. And Danny could see it shimmering in the darkness beyond for a second or two before it vanished.
“If only I could really talk fish language,” he thought. “I could ask the hatchetfish to tell us the way out of here…”
He paused and stared into space. Then he sprang to his feet. He ran to the Professor and grabbed his arm.
“Listen!” he shouted. “I know how to do it. I know how to get us out of here! Please let me take back my word—please!”
The Professor’s jaw dropped. “What? What word? What are you talking about?”
“My promise,” Danny gasped. “Please let me play my tape recorder!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Talking to the Fish
“The boy’s gone crazy,” said Dr. Grimes, putting down his pen.
“Just a minute.” Professor Bullfinch raised his hand. “Now, Danny, get hold of yourself. You’re not joking, are you?”
“No, sir,” Danny said as earnestly as he could. “I mean it. Can I play the recorder?”
Captain Beaversmith, who had been awakened by the first shout, got up from the floor rubbing his eyes. “Look here, old son,” he said, “I may be dreadfully stupid, but I don’t see how a tape recorder is going to get us out of here, unless you plan to broadcast a cry for help on it.”
“I do,” said Danny.
Irene and Joe had jumped up, too, and Joe said sarcastically, “Who are you going to broadcast to—the fish?”
“Yes,” said Danny.
“You see,” Dr. Grimes said sorrowfully, “he’s raving mad. Now, then, Dan, just quiet down. Here, Bullfinch—let’s wrap him in a blanket since we haven’t got a strait-jacket.”
“Wait a minute,” Danny protested, getting the lab bench between himself and the others. “Let me explain, will you? Now look—I’ve got a recording of the sounds the hatchetfish make. If I play it, by pressing the amplifier against the side of the hull and using the ship itself as a sounding board, maybe it will attract lots of hatchetfish to us.”
The Professor blinked. And Captain Beaversmith said with a chuckle, “By George, the boy’s got something. And you mean, they’d light up the water so we could see our way clear to leave?”
“I don’t think they’d give that much light,” Danny said. “But I just saw one out there—the water is clearing—and then he swam off and disappeared. Well, if they come, they’ve got to come from somewhere, don’t they? So when they leave, all we have to do is follow them, and maybe they’ll lead us out of this cave.”
The Captain snapped his fingers. “I think it would work,” he said.
“It’s certainly worth trying,” said the Professor. “What do you say, Grimes?”
“I think—” Dr. Grimes looked down at the paper on which he had been writing his will. Then he looked at Danny and then at the Professor. With one quick movement, he tore the paper in half and tossed it to the deck. “Let’s do it!” he said.
Danny didn’t wait to be told twice. He ran and got his tape recorder down from the shelf. Quickly, he rewound the tape to where the hatchetfish recording began. Pressing the amplifier against the side of the hull as tightly as he could, he started the machine.
The others waited breathlessly. Over and over again, Danny played his machine. Suddenly Irene cried, “There’s one!”
“There’s another,” said Joe.
In the darkness, little pink torches flickered. More and more hatchetfish appeared: five, ten, then dozens. They clustered about the hull and their large eyes and mouths made them look like a crowd of curious goblins. The water shone from their pale lights.
“It works!” croaked Dr. Grimes.
Joe and Irene were jigging with excitement. Professor Bullfinch, cleaning his glasses absent-mindedly on a piece of muddy filter paper, said, “Wonderful! But how are you going to get them to leave?”
“I’ve thought of that, too,” Danny said. “Watch.”
He started the recorder again. And suddenly, in formation like a fleet of ships, the hatchetfish streamed away and in a few seconds were gone.
“Dear me,” said the Professor. “How did you do that?”
“Easy,” said Danny, unable to keep a note of pride out of his voice. “The next recording on the tape is the sound of viper fish. You told me the viper fish is the enemy of the hatchetfish, remember? I just played that sound, and the hatchetfish took off.”
Captain Beaversmith eased himself into the pilot’s seat. He put his hands on the controls. “All ready,” he said. “Call ’em back, Dan. And tip me off when you start the viper fish noises so I can follow when they swim away.”
Once again, Danny played the recording of the hatchetfish. Back came the tiny lanterns in the water. “Okay,” he called to the Captain and started the machine again. This time, as the little fleet darted away, Captain Beaversmith moved the Urchin after them. He was able to follow their glow for quite a distance before losing them.
“Once again,” he said.
Danny repeated the operation, and they followed the hatchetfish still further. And all at once, the Professor, who had been leaning over the Captain’s shoulder, pointed to the dials on the control panel.
“The vertical speed indicator is moving,” he said.
Sure enough, the needle was creeping up from zero.
“We must be out of the cave. We’re rising,” said the Captain in a tense voice. “Look at the depth
gauge.”
It registered a depth of eighty-five hundred feet.
Still, they could not quite believe it. They all stood quietly, waiting and watching. Steadily the needles of the two dials moved. They were going faster now, and the Captain mumbled, “Seven thousand…six thousand eight hundred… six thousand five hundred…”
Danny gazed up through the ceiling. A bluish light filled the water above them. “Sky color!” he exclaimed.
Irene threw her arms about him and kissed him. Then she grinned and said, “Why, Danny Dunn! The water’s almost light enough for me to see you blush.”
Half an hour later, the Urchin bobbed up above the surface and brilliant sunlight filled the cabin.
Joe took a deep breath. “The Mexicans can keep the sun image,” he sighed. “Real sunshine’s the only gold I want.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Treasures of the Sea
The restaurant of the Hotel Grande had never seen such festivities as there were that night. Around a long table decorated with flowers sat the happy six; the three young people on one side, and the three adults on the other, toasting each other in Mexican lemon soda and stuffing themselves with a delicious dish called molé—it was made of turkey with a sauce of almonds, peppers, spices and nuts, which the beaming hotel cook had made in their honor. When they could hold no more, they pushed their chairs back and the waiter put steaming cups of thick hot chocolate before them.
“Whew!” said Danny. “It was worth going through that adventure for a meal like this.”
“You mean the appetizer we just had?” said Joe innocently. “Gosh, I was just wondering when we were going to start eating.”
Professor Bullfinch pushed his glasses up on his forehead and stared at Joe. He said to Dr. Grimes, “You know, it would be fascinating to take this boy to pieces for the sake of science. How can he stuff so much into himself and remain so thin?”
Danny Dunn on the Ocean Floor Page 8