Rick Brant 2 The Lost City

by John Blaine

  Scotty squinted up at him as he approached. “Relax, friend. Stretch out and take advantage of the ultraviolet rays.”

  “You’re a vegetable, Sergeant Scott,” Rick said. “You’re a turnip. You just lie still and get warm in the sun. Don’t you realize this is a great adventure? Get up and look at the sea.”

  “I saw a wave once,” Scotty murmured comfortably. He rolled over on his stomach. “Go away. I hate people who aren’t lazy.”

  Rick left him to his slumbers and went up on the bridge. Captain Marks greeted him cordially.“Getting restless, son? We’re off theAzores right now.” He indicated the position on the chart.“Won’t be long before we’re steaming into theMediterranean.”

  “I always thought going to sea was exciting, Captain Marks. But it’s just sailing on, day after day. The scenery never changes,” Rick remarked.

  The captain smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Scenery isn’t so much. It’s the unexpected that makes for adventure, I’d say, and there’s plenty of that on the sea.”

  “Plenty of it inTibet , too, I guess,” Rick said.

  The first officer came up to consult the captain so Rick left, still feeling restless.The days were growing monotonous. He passed the radio room and glanced in and saw the racks of equipment.

  An idea hit him. His little gadget! Why not pass a few hours working on it? He had to think for a minute before he could remember where it was. He had put it in with the trail gear, in one of the wooden crates.

  It was down in the hold.

  Professor Weiss had asked him to look over the equipment. He could kill two birds at once. He went down the accommodation ladder to the next deck and made his way forward through the passages till he came to the huge watertight door of the hold. It was dogged down. He had to struggle with some of the heavy metal fastenings before he could open it. Then he stepped inside and fumbled for the light switch.

  The lights snapped on and he saw boxes of goods stacked all around him. He knew where their own equipment was; he had checked off the crates as they were stowed. He made his way to them, sniffing in the stale air a sharp, acrid odor.

  He reached the first of the cases stenciled Stoneridge Expedition and noticed that the odor was stronger and that part of the stencil was obliterated by a brown streak.

  “Funny,” he muttered. “Something’s leaking.””

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  Then his eyes opened wide as he saw the box which had been placed carefully on the very top of the pile. It was on its side!

  He ran to the door of the hold, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Help, someone!”

  Just outside the door was a fire extinguisher, of the soda and acid type. Working furiously, he unscrewed the ringed top and tossed it aside. The bottle of acid was in its pivoted cradle. He lifted it out and placed it cautiously on the deck,then he took the big metal container of soda solution and lugged it back to the equipment as fast as he could.

  Holding the container high over his head, he let the solution cascade down over the boxes. Instantly there was a sputter and the solution foamed in a great yellow mass.

  The container was empty now. Rick ran for another, and met a member of the crew who had come in answer to his yell.

  “Get the captain,” Rick shouted.

  “What’s up?” the sailor demanded.

  “Acid!”Rick yelled at him. “There’s acid all over our equipment!”

  CHAPTER III

  Fire in the Hold

  Under Captain Marks’s efficient direction, the acid was quickly neutralized with soda solution rushed from the galley. Then, as seamen set to work cleaning up the mess, the captain turned to Rick, Scotty, and the professors.

  “Now,” he said, “let’s get down to cases. Where did that acid come from?”

  “It’sbattery acid, sir,” Rick answered. “We had a carboy of it for our batteries-the ones we use for heating the tube filaments.”

  Professor Zircon had been examining the empty con* tainer . “The acid bottle was firmly sealed and placed upright in this weighted box,” he explained. “It would have been almost impossible for it to spill.

  Even if it had fallen on its side, the acid still would not have run out.”

  “But it did,” Julius Weiss remarked tartly. “How do you explain that?” He was examining the crates one at a time, anxiously searching for signs of damage. “Well have to rip these crates open,” he said.

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  Captain Marks bent over and examined the acid container. Presently the skipper straightened up. “It would be hard for it to tip over,” he admitted, “but there’s no other answer. The crates must have been badly piled. My guess is that they shifted a bit, just enough to tip the acid crate.”

  “But how could it come unstoppered ?” Rick objected.

  The skipper shrugged. “Very possibly it wasn’t as tightly sealed as you thought. Fortunately you found it before much damage was done. I’ll lend you a man to help inspect the crates, and I can supply another carboy of acid from my own stores.”

  He motioned to a thickset man near by. “Chips,bear a hand here.” To Zircon he added, “This is Meekin

  , the ship’s carpenter. He’ll help you with the crates. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to the bridge.”

  Julius Weiss was alternately trying to get into the stacked cases and wringing his hands. “I’m sure something is ruined!” he exclaimed. “If the acid reached the cathode units,Hobart , I’m afraid we’re ruined!Ruined!”

  “Nonsense,” Zircon bellowed. “Rick found the trouble too soon for much to have happened.” He turned to the boy. “That was fast thinking, using the soda from the extinguisher.”

  Rick blushed, and turned to lend a hand in shifting crates. He hadn’t even stopped to think. He had acted instinctively.

  Scotty helped him with a large crate and spoke softly so that the professors couldn’t hear. “What do you think?”

  “Think about what?”

  “The acid.Does it look like an accident to you?”

  Rick gave the crate a final heave. “What are you driving at, Scotty? It has to be an accident.” Just the same, there was an uneasy feeling growing in him.

  “Why does it have to be an accident?” Scotty insisted. “You got into the hold. Anyone else could have.”

  “But why should they? This isn’t like the moon rocket, Scotty. No one could gain anything by trying to stop this experiment, and people don’t do things without reason.”

  “But that acid container was designedspecially so it wouldn’t tip over,” Scotty persisted.

  “Yes, but if the pile shifted . . .”

  “It still wouldn’t tip over. It would slide down.”

  Scotty had put into words the very thing that had been at the back of Rick’s mind. It was true. The wooden container that held the acid bottle was heavily weighted at the base. It would take a real effort to tip it.

  “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to sabotage the equipment,” Rick said thoughtfully. “I think maybe some sailor was working down here and tipped it over accidentally. The acid started pouring out Page 10

  and he got scared and beat it.”

  “Maybe,” Scotty replied doubtfully.

  With the help of Meekin , the professors were already probing into the crates, to see if any acid might have seeped through onto the equipment. In one or two spots they found marks where the powerful acid had started to eat into the aluminum cases that housed the delicate radar gear. But by applying the fire extinguisher so quickly, Rick had prevented the acid from eating all the way through.

  He and Scotty bore a hand to lift one particularly heavy crate that was nothing but a framework of boards. Inside, clearly visible, was a cast-aluminum pyramid that looked like an oversize automobile jack.

  “The stuff didn’t touch the antenna base,” he said.

  Under the professor’s direction, Meekin tore open crates and nailed them up again. He was a sullen man of middle age who evidently resented
having to do this extra work.

  Rick searched until he found the box which contained his gadget. The box was hinged, and closed with a snap lock. He opened it, disclosing neatly packed sleeping bags, windbreakers, rain hoods, ponchos, and similar stuff to be used on the trail. Under the jackets was the little aluminum box he wanted. He tucked it into his pocket.

  The last traces of acid had been neutralized, and the inspection was at an end. Rick joined Scotty and the professors as they walked out of the hold, leaving the carpenter to lock the door behind them.

  “How did you happen to arrive at the right moment, Rick?” Zircon asked.

  Rick produced the metal box and held it up. “I was after this.”

  Weiss peered at it in the dim light below decks. “What is it?”.

  “The most important radio device since the vacuum tube,” Rick boasted jokingly. He put it back into his pocket. “Ill show it to you when I’ve done a little more work on it.”

  As they came out on deck, Weiss shook his head. “Hobart, I don’t like this. It’s a bad start, having that container tip like that for no reason. I’ve been afraid something like this would happen.”

  “Baseless fears,” Zircon snorted. “I’m surprised at you, Julius.”

  “Not baseless,” Weiss contradicted. “We have overlooked necessary detail,Hobart . We have been remiss. I am sure of it.”

  “What detail have we overlooked?” Zircon demanded. “Our equipment has been checked time and again. Our travel permissions are arranged. The passports are in my pocket. Our maps are being checked inBombay at this moment. What detail, Julius?”

  “We haven’t arranged for guides,” Weiss declared triumphantly.

  “Certainly not.Hartson Brant and I discussed that. We decided that it would be wiser and less expensive to pick up a native guide at the Tibetan frontier.”

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  The two professors walked toward their cabin, still wrangling. Rick and Scotty stopped at the rail.

  Rick shook his head. “Professor Weiss is as full of worries as my Aunt Jennifer. I didn’t think he’d be like this.”

  “He has a lot on his mind,” Scotty said. “This experiment means everything to him. Remember, he worked out all the transmission details.”

  “I know,” Rick admitted. “But he shouldn’t worry about every little thing.”

  “Hell worry until we take down the message from Spindrift on July tenth,” Scotty answered. “Now, come on, guy,let’s see that super invention of yours.”

  Rick grinned. “Super isn’t the word. It’s positively atomic.” He took the metal box from his pocket. It was very tiny, not larger than two cigarette packages. He opened the lid and passed the box to Scotty.

  Inside was an intricate arrangement of wires, re-sisters, tubes, and condensers.

  “My gosh, look at those tubes! They’re no bigger than . . . than acorns!” Scotty exclaimed.

  “That’s what they’re called.Acorn tubes.”

  “But what’s it for?”

  Rick eyed the neat little set proudly. “Well, I read in the paper a while back about a kid who rigged up a receiving set in his hat.”

  “In his hat?”

  “Helmet, rather. You know . . . one of those sun helmets. So I thought I’d go him one better and see if t could figure out a transceiver . . .”

  “A what?”

  “A set that transmits as well as receives.Then we could each have one, and we could send messages back and forth. See?”

  “Yes,” Scotty marveled. “But why should we send messages back and forth? We’re together all the time. And this wouldn’t work at long range, would it?”

  “Don’t get practical,” Rick replied. “I was just figuring it out for the fun of it. We might find a use for it someday.”

  The skipper came by, on his way down from the bridge, and stopped.“Hungry, boys? Chow is down.”

  “That’s for me,” Scotty said.

  As they fell in step, Rick asked, “Captain, was anyone in the hold earlier today?”

  The skipper looked at him curiously. “Not to my knowledge. Why?”

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  “I just wondered if perhaps the acid was knocked over accidentally by someone who went into the hold.”

  “Ill ask the mates, but I doubt that anyone was in the hold. I think your acid spilled over when the crates shifted. Improper stowage caused it. If I find the man responsible, he’ll regret it. I will not tolerate carelessness on my ship.”

  Rick let the matter drop, but he was not satisfied. Shifting cargo was too pat an answer. Still, there was no other explanation. He would just have to accept it. Fortunately, no damage had been done.

  After dinner, he went to work on the little radio unit, working with such delicate tools as a pair of tweezers and a jeweler’s screw driver. Scotty sat on the opposite bunk cleaning his rifle with loving care.

  To the ex-marine, weapons were holy things. He inspected the rifle every day, running an oily rag through the barrel and wiping off the mechanism.

  “Someday you’re going to take one of those things apart and not be able to get it back together again,”

  Rick teased.

  Scotty grinned good-naturedly. “Stick to your gimmicks and leave the shootin ’ irons to me, son.” He held the rifle barrel up to the light and peered through it. “Like a mirror,” he said with satisfaction.

  It was a beautiful weapon, a present to Scotty from Hartson Brant. Scotty had added a telescopic sight.

  With that and his marine training, plus the high power of the rifle-it was .303 caliber-he could break a dinner plate at better than five hundred yards. Rick had seen him do it.

  “Hope we won’t need that,” he remarked.

  “We won’t,” Scotty said optimistically. “But maybe I’ll get a shot at a wild goat, or maybe a panda.”

  When Zircon and Weiss came in, the boys climbed up to their bunks. Scotty put his rifle into its canvas case, and Rick put his little radio set on the cabin desk. They undressed quickly and got into bed.

  In a little while Zircon snapped out the lights and there was silence in the cabin. The ship pitched slightly to the swell, a slow, soothing motion that made Rick’s eyelids droop.

  Just before he dozed off, he asked sleepily, “Scotty, why would anyone want to stop the experiment?”

  Hobart Zircon answered for Scotty, his voice loud in the darkness. “No one would, Rick. Go to sleep and stop worrying about it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rick said. He punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, and after a while he slept.

  It was shortly aftermidday of the next day that Rick made another discovery. The morning had been spent on the foredeck, sun bathing and chatting with the professors and Scotty. Not until after lunch did he feel bored and decide to go back to his work on the radio set.

  It wasn’t on the cabin desk where he had left it.

  He hunted through the cabin, through their baggage, even under the bunk mattresses. Then he hurried out to Scotty and the professors, who were leaning against the rail.

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  “Did any of you take my radio unit?”

  There were three negative answers.

  “Someone did,” he insisted. “I left it in the cabin and it’s gone.”

  “You undoubtedly mislaid it,” Professor Weiss said.

  “No, sir.I looked everywhere. It’s not there.”

  “He left it on the desk,” Scotty remembered. “Just before we went to bed last night.”

  “It will turn up, Rick,” Zircon boomed. “Surely no one would steal it.”

  “It wouldn’t do them any good,” Rick replied. “It doesn’t work.” He left his friends and hurried to the bridge.

  Captain Marks greeted him cordially.“Something on your mind? You look worried.”

  “My radio unit is gone,” Rick blurted out. He told the skipper about it, adding, “It must have been taken.

  It isn’t in the cabin.”

  Captain Mar
ks rubbed his chin. “You’re sure of that? I don’t want to start something and then have it turn up under your bunk.”

  “I searched every inch of our cabin, sir,” Rick said.

  The skipper shook his head. “I hate to think we have a thief aboard. Ill have the first mate talk to the crew, one at a time. It would do no good to search the ship. Too many places it could be hidden. You say it’s of no value?”

  “To no one but me, sir.It’s just a gadget I was working on.”

  At supper that night Captain Marks reported: “Not a thing doing, Rick. The crew denies all knowledge of it. I’m afraid it’s gone for good unless it just happens to turn up somewhere.”

  “I put in a lot of work on it,” Rick lamented. “Now I’ll have to wait until we get home before I can start again, because we haven’t the parts here.”

  “Never mind,” Zircon soothed him. “We have a nice big radar transmitter for you to play with until we get back.”

  Rick looked at him sharply and saw the twinkle in the big professor’s eyes. “It’s not the same thing,” he said. “This was my pet project. The radar transmitter is yours.”

  “You can have a share,” Zircon suggested.

  Rick fell silent, but the loss of his toy rankled. Anyway, he thought, whoever stole it won’t get much out of it. It was a long way from being finished.

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  In the excitement of passing through theMediterranean , the loss of the little transceiver was forgotten by everyone but Rick.

  When they stopped atPort Said to refuel the ship, the boys had their first look at a foreign port. But there was no chance to go ashore, so they had to content themselves with watching from the deck. The professors,both experienced travelers, had been in the colorful port before and didn’t think much of it.

  “They said we didn’t miss much,” Rick said regretfully as the ship steamed between the narrow banks of theSuez Canal , “but I still wish we could have gotten ashore for a little while.”’

  The passage through the canal passed without incident and the freighter plowed into theIndian Ocean .

  The heat was like a wet, heavy blanket now, and sleep was almost impossible. But the party looked forward eagerly toBombay .