The Wailing Octopus: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

by Harold L. Goodwin

  CHAPTER VII

  The Derelict

  Rick and Scotty were up at dawn the next morning. They didn't botherwith anything so prosaic as breakfast. Instead, they collected masks,snorkels, and flippers for a preliminary dip. They didn't use the lungs;those were to be saved for more important work than casual swimming.

  For this first swim, each boy selected a spear gun. Scotty chose thesame light spring gun he had used to save them from the shadow, whileRick took his favorite gun, a four-strand rubber-powered weapon thatpacked a terrific wallop. They belted on their knives and blew up theirplastic floats. These were essential for resting, if necessary, and forbringing home their catch, if any. Once a fish was speared, it wasimportant to get it out of the water as soon as possible, since bloodwould bring sharks or barracuda if any were in the neighborhood.

  "Come on," Rick said impatiently. "Let's go."

  "I'm coming." Scotty finished coiling up the light line he used totether the float to his belt, and they stepped into the water. Thetemperature was just right. They ducked under, then put on theirequipment. Scotty pulled a rubber glove over his injured hand. Pushingtheir floats ahead of them, faces down in the water, they started forthe reef.

  Rick watched the bottom carefully. It was clear sand, with no sign oflife other than an occasional conch or other shellfish. This was to beexpected, since marine life tended to collect around reefs, rocks,pilings, wrecks, and similar things. As they approached the reef, coralheads and outcroppings began to appear. And with them, fish.

  Rick hooted for Scotty's attention, then lifted his head and let hismouthpiece fall free. "Let's go outside!" he called as Scotty looked up.The other boy nodded agreement. Both were anxious to examine the reef.

  The surf was light. They crossed over the reef by towing their floatsand timing their movements through the breakers. Once beyond the pointwhere the waves broke, the water was fairly calm, with only light surgesfrom the passing waves.

  Rick looked down and saw the reef drop away under him. It shelved offperhaps twenty feet down, then beyond the shelf it fell away into thedepths. He looked into the blueness with a stirring of excitement. Tofind the _Maiden Hand_, they would have to swim into that mysteriousblue realm.

  Scotty hooted. Rick looked, and followed the direction of his pointingarm. There, browsing around the shelf below, was a handsome red snapper,perhaps fifteen inches long. They had stopped in Miami and Rick hadnoticed that red-snapper prices were about the same as those for steak.There was no doubt that the fish was very good eating. He gestured toScotty to go after it, then floated motionless, watching.

  Scotty put the loader over the tip of his spear and pushed down, cockingthe gun. Then, without a splash, he slid under the water. Rick watchedas his fins propelled him slowly toward the snapper. Scotty was movingslowly, because this was the prime rule in underwater hunting. As heswam, he extended the spear gun, aiming over the short barrel. Thesnapper stopped browsing and his dorsal fin suddenly erected, a sign ofalarm. But he didn't move because he was not yet sure the big invaderwas an enemy. Before he could make up his mind, Scotty fired.

  The spear took the fish right behind the gills. He gave a quick spurtthat brought the line humming from its spool. Scotty followed quickly,caught the shaft, then sped upward to where Rick waited.

  "Good shot," Rick complimented him as Scotty caught his float. Together,they took the fish off the shaft and examined him with some pride. Theirfirst catch off Clipper Cay was a good one. The snapper was pink andfirm-fleshed. He would make good eating.

  Rick put his face down in the water again while Scotty secured the catchto his float. As he did so he saw a target and hooted for attention.Scotty joined him and they looked down to where a barracuda hoveredmotionless.

  The 'cuda was perhaps two and a half feet long, not big as suchpredators went, but big enough. Scotty motioned to Rick to get him.Obviously the fish had been attracted by the blood or the struggles ofthe snapper. Rick hoped that his big brothers wouldn't join him. Thisone was plenty big enough. While Scotty held both floats, Rick chargedhis gun, pulling back the strong rubbers a pair at a time. Then hechecked his safety line, filled his lungs, and went under.

  The barracuda hovered, waiting. Rick knew that his apparent disinterestcould change to lightning flight. Few fish were so fast. He followedScotty's example, moving slowly toward the quarry. He was a dozen feetdown now, and in the lessened light the barracuda loomed large, a slimarrow of a fish, poised for flight.

  The spear gun was extended, the spear point nearing firing range. Rickplanned to shoot from about six feet. He doubted that he could getcloser. Flippers propelling him gently, he closed. Now he could see thepointed jaws that contained razor-edged teeth. The fish was watchinghim, but without apparent fear.

  The barracuda head was squarely in his sights. Rick squeezed thetrigger.

  For a moment he thought he had missed, then the safety line ran out andthe jerk almost pulled the gun from his hands. He was running out ofbreath, too. Quickly he planed for the surface, feeling the fury on theend of his line. He broke water, gulped air, then dove again. He pulledin the line until he saw the fish struggling. He had nearly missed. Theharpoon had taken the barracuda near the tail, fortunately hitting thespine. Rick pulled him in, hand over hand, then gripped his spear by theextreme end. He had no desire to close with those slashing, dangerousjaws. Holding fast to the spear he shot to the surface again. Scotty waswaiting, knife in hand. As Rick extended the spear toward him the keenknife flashed across the 'cuda's spine just behind the gills. Ricktossed his gun onto the float, then together they heaved the fish upbeside it.

  "Spindrift was never like this," Scotty said, grinning.

  Rick gulped air and grinned back.

  A hail from the shore reached them. They turned and saw Tony Briotti. Hewas waving a frying pan in a signal for breakfast. Suddenly Rickrealized that he was famished.

  "Let's go," he said. "We'll trade these for bacon and eggs."

  It was nearly noon before they got into the water again. The first partof the morning was spent in fashioning sea sleds from the planks theboys had gathered. This was simple enough, but it took a little time.First the planks were cut to proper length, then two of them were nailedtogether. A bridle was arranged so that they could be towed, and spareweight belts and weights were used to counteract their bouyancy. Theywere very much like the aqua-planes commonly towed behind motorboats,but much cruder, and designed to go under rather than remain on thesurface.

  Two long ropes were arranged so that a sled could be towed on eitherside of the _Water Witch_. Once this was done, the boys rechecked theirequipment, attached the regulators to the tanks, and carried them to thebeach.

  Zircon would pilot the boat, following the 120-foot mark on the chart.Tony would act as tender at the stern, while Rick and Scotty would ridethe sleds. The first leg would take them through the reef channel, thensouth to the tip of the island, reverse course and north again, stayingat the twenty-fathom mark. Zircon was sure that he would be able tofollow the prescribed course by judging his distance from the reef.

  When all was in readiness, they loaded their gear aboard the _WaterWitch_, including the spare tanks. Only the runaway tank was missing,and Rick had determined that its wild flight had not weakened it. Thevalve and pressure gauge had been recovered after a considerable search,and the tank could be refilled with the others.

  Zircon took the _Water Witch_ through the reef, and the boys donnedtheir equipment while Tony swung the ladder outboard. Rick checked hisown straps, and then those of Scotty, while Scotty returned the favor.Then each checked the flow of air through his mouthpiece, and made surethe reserve rod was in the "up" position. This done, they entered thewater. Tony tossed the boards over and made sure the lines were secured.

  Rick and Scotty paddled the boards to the extreme length of the lines,then separated as much as the lines allowed. They were about thirty feetapart and a hundred feet behind the boat.

  They waved their rea
diness to Tony, who relayed the go-ahead to Zircon.The boat started slowly.

  Rick moved forward on his board, and the weighted board tilted down. Itacted as a hydrofoil, its forward motion pulling it deeper into thewater. Rick waited until he was only ten feet from the bottom, thenshifted his weight back again. Obediently the board tilted upward andraced for the surface. Rick moved forward again just in time to keepfrom breaking through the surface. By adjusting his weight, he couldkeep the board level, or go up or down. It wasn't easy and he had tofight the board level almost constantly.

  Bubbles rose from the regulator between his shoulder blades as hebreathed rhythmically. The lung performed effortlessly, giving him asmuch air as he needed. He felt the pressure on his ears as he steeredthe board toward bottom, and there was an instant of pain before hisears adjusted.

  The bottom was sandy. To his right he saw the wall of the reef, and oncea startled snook shot out of his way. To his left he could see Scotty.Before he knew it the boat had throttled down, a signal that they wereat the southern end of the reef. He tilted upward and surfaced.

  Tony called, "How is it?"

  "Great!" Rick called back. "But we'll need lots more line. It wasshallow on the way down, but if we try to go any deeper the angle of theline will make the boards come up."

  "You should try it," Scotty said. "Honestly, Tony, it's wonderful!"

  "I'll try it a little later," Tony promised. "I'm giving you all theline we have, about three hundred feet each. If you can't make it,surface. We'll have to splice the two lines together and use just oneboard."

  Zircon came to the stern and bellowed, "You forgot these!"

  He tossed in two fishing floats and coils of line. Those were in casethey found the wreck. Whoever spotted it was to drop off his board,secure the line to the wreck, and let the float rise to the surface. Inthat way, they would have a guide.

  Each boy took one of the units and fastened it to his weight belt.

  "We're off!" Zircon called. "Ready?"

  The boys yelled that they were. Rick fitted his mouthpiece and checkedthe seal of his mask. Scotty did the same, then both tilted their boardsand slid under.

  On the northbound leg they had trouble keeping the boards down becauseof the tendency of the lead rope to pull the front of the boards up, butby crawling far forward, they managed.

  They were deeper than they had ever gone before, but Rick felt nosensation of fright or strangeness. It was a green world, not dark butyet not bright. The light was subdued, filtered by the fathoms of water.The bottom was mostly clear sand, dotted now and then by patches ofgrowth. There did not seem to be many fish, or perhaps their eyes werenot adjusted to the subdued light. Scotty was close to the reef on thenorthbound leg, while Rick was about twenty feet farther out.

  For long moments there was only the sensation of rushing through thewater, the distant throb of the engines, and the sound of their ownbubbles. Then, ahead, Rick saw a mass of growth and tilted his boardupward just in time to clear it.

  Scotty hooted once, then again. Rick turned in time to see his pal'sboard leap ahead, free of Scotty's weight. Sudden fear gripped him. HadScotty been caught? Instantly he released his own board and saw it scootfor the surface. He reversed his course and swam rapidly back.

  The obstruction he had cleared was dead ahead. And there were fish! Somany that they seemed like a swarm of flies around it. The biggest wasnot more than five inches long. Then he saw Scotty. His friend wasfastening the float line to a projection!

  Rick's heart leaped. What he thought was a rock formation on the seafloor was the wreck of a ship! Scotty had recognized it and dropped off.The _Maiden Hand_? He hooted and Scotty looked up. The other boy shookhis head.

  It wasn't the _Maiden Hand_, then. But how did Scotty know? In a moment,when he joined the other boy, he saw the curling edges of steel plate.This was a steel ship, then, and not a very large one at that. Heestimated its length as not more than a hundred feet. Still, it was awreck--their first. There, at twenty fathoms, he and Scotty shook handssolemnly while the tiny fish swam around them like curious gnats.

  Scotty finished tying his line and unwound it from the wooden spool. Thefloat rose upward and vanished far overhead. They heard the throb of thereturning boat, and Rick hooted twice, the signal to surface. Scottynodded, and they went up, slowly, careful to breathe naturally and notto overtake their small bubbles, as doctrine dictated. In a moment Ricksaw the hull of the boat, propellers barely turning, and knew thatZircon was holding position overhead.

  They broke water off the side of the _Water Witch_, and Rick waiteduntil Scotty hailed the scientists. "We found a wreck, but it's a steelship."

  "Come aboard!" Tony called, and helped them up the ladder when theycomplied. The tanks were cumbersome when out of the water.

  "It's a fish paradise!" Rick said excitedly. "I'm going to get my cameraworking and take some pictures. You've got to go down and look, both ofyou."

  "How did you spot it?" Zircon asked.

  "Scotty did. I thought it was a rock formation and went over it, butScotty dropped off."

  "I saw curled plate," Scotty answered. "I knew it wasn't the _MaidenHand_, with steel sides, but I didn't think we'd want to pass up awreck."

  "You were so right," Rick agreed, grinning.

  A check of their tanks with the gauge showed that only about fiveminutes diving time remained at the twenty-fathom depth, so theregulators were transferred to spare tanks. Tony and Zircon, already intrunks, donned diving gear and followed Scotty's line to the bottom. Theboys waited impatiently, Scotty taking the helm to hold the boat inplace.

  Ten minutes later the scientists surfaced, and Rick helped them aboard.Tony removed his mask and grinned. "It's as wonderful as you said itwas."

  "What kind of ship was it?" Rick asked.

  Tony had been a destroyer skipper during the war and he knew ships.

  "Probably an interisland cargo carrier of some kind. At any rate, itappears to be a small cargo ship. It's so overgrown with marine growththat the shape is cluttered. It might have been a small tanker."

  "We can explore it from stem to stern," Rick suggested excitedly.

  Scotty joined them and commented, "But not right now. We'll have to goashore and charge the tanks. There may be time for one more dive thisafternoon if we hurry."

  "Besides," Hobart Zircon said with a smile, "I'm hungry. As you say,Rick, diving certainly develops the appetite!"

  They docked, and Tony and Zircon went off to see about preparingsandwiches. The boys decided that rather than carry the tanks back andforth from the pier to the shed, it would be more sensible to bringtheir small, portable gas-driven compressor to the pier.

  Scotty went after it while Rick tied the tanks to the afterrail of the_Water Witch_, in position for filling.

  A yell from Scotty stopped him. He looked up and saw his friend beckon,and ran down the pier to the house. The scientists joined him and Scottyat the shed where the compressor had been stored.

  "We've been sabotaged again," Scotty told them flatly. "There's oil inthe compressor!"

  "Are you certain?" Zircon pressed close to examine the machine.

  "Yes. I stumbled over my own feet and tipped the compressor on its side.And oil ran out through the air fitting. Look!" Scotty held up his hand,and it was smeared with glistening oil.

  A cold shiver traced its way down Rick's spine. Oil in a compressor wasblown into fine particles, too small to be seen. If they got into an airtank they would be breathed in, leaving a thin coating on a diver'slungs. The result was a condition almost exactly like pneumonia, called"lipoid pneumonia." Their special filter, designed by Zircon, probablywould have taken all the oil particles out of the air before it got intothe tanks, but that didn't alter the fact that faced them. Someone haddeliberately put oil in the compressor. Someone just didn't want themaround!