by John Blaine
“Can’t be soon enough,” Scotty remarked as they climbed into the bunks one night. “I want a look at thisIndia .”
“Same here,” Rick answered. He swung into the upper bunk, careful not to step on the professor below him.
He stretched out, only a sheet over him, and soon drifted off into a dreamland peopled with natives who wore cloth-of-gold trappings and turbans, and where elephants roamed the streets at will.
Then suddenly he jerked awake, and sat bolt upright, his ears filled with the ear-splitting clang of the alarm bells.
All four of the party leaped off their bunks, and Zuvcon snapped on the lights just as the third officer ran by.
“Fire!” he shouted. “All hands, Fire in the forward hold!”
CHAPTER IV
A Man NamedConway
Rick beat Scotty to the hold by about a yard and stopped short. “The equipment!” he exclaimed in horror.
Seamen were directing the streams from the extinguishers and sea hoses into the hold right at the precious radar gear. Overhead, the hatch was being lifted so that more water could be poured in.
Smoke curled out, mixed with steam. Captain Marks came out through the smoke, blackened and red-eyed. “Cut down on that water!” he yelled hoarsely. “Cut it down! It’s nothing but smoke.”
Professor Weiss grabbed Rick’s arm.“The equipment! Rick, do something!”
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“Nothing he can do,” Hobart Zircon bellowed. “It’s up to the captain and the crew.”
“We are ruined this time,Hobart . Do you hear?” Weiss was on the verge of hysteria.
Rick and Scotty pressed close to the door, forgetting they were in pajamas and bare feet. Through the swirling smoke they could see shadowy piles of cargo, and they knew their equipment was in there where the smoke was thickest.
“Professor Weiss is right. This finishes us, Scotty,” Rick said huskily.
He had a swift vision of his father’s face, and those of the other scientists, when they heard the news.
Months of preparation had gone up in smoke in that blackened hold.
Captain Marks pushed by him into the hold again, shouting, “All right, get that hatch off. Smartly, now!
Let’s get this smoke out of here.”
Rick was at his heels, feeling the blast of fresh air as the big hatch cover on deck finally came off.
Someone threw a switch and the hold was flooded with light from emergency lamps, the smoke eddying upward in the draft of air.
Rick pushed his way to the equipment, ankle-deep in dirty water and floating debris. He turned to find Scotty behind him.
“Over here,” he motioned. The stacked equipment was charred and dirty. A lump came into Rick’s throat, and his eyes watered with something more than smoke irritation. “What a mess!” He shook his head sadly.
“Wait a minute,” Scotty said. “Maybe it isn’t so bad.” He was already lifting crates off the top of the pile, examining them on all sides.
“Look, Rick, the outer ones are charred a little, but most of them are okay. They’re all wet, though.”
Rick jumped to help him, his hopes rising. “The wetness doesn’t matter. They have waterproof plastic linings. Come on, Scotty, let’s dig!”
The professors were with them now, and they worked frantically, unstacking the crates, looking anxiously for signs of damage.
Zircon straightened up from his inspection of a bulky wooden box. “Thank God,” he said. “The radio-frequency oscillator unit is undamaged.”
Beside him, Weiss pounced on another crate.“The modulator!” He looked it over feverishly. “Not burned.Hobart, what good fortune!”
Captain Marks appeared beside them. “How bad is it?”
“Possibly not hopeless,” Zircon replied. “Well have to get the crates out on deck and open them to really tell.”
“Well do that right away,” the captain said, “after we find out what started this. There’s nothing combustible down here. Most of the cargo is toolmaking machinery.”
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The skipper and the first officer began a careful inspection of the hold. Scotty and Rick followed, watching curiously as they looked for the origin of the fire.
Right behind the stack of scientific equipment, Scotty bent down and picked up a charred rag. “Holy smoke!” he exclaimed. “Look at this!”
The ship’s officers and Rick hurried to his side. The rag smelled strongly of kerosene.
Captain Marks and the mate exchanged glances.
“Sabotage,” the captain said sharply. “It looks like the fire was set right next to your gear, Rick.”
A thread of fear went through him.
Professor Weiss had been exploring a stack of cases beyond the equipment. Suddenly he let out a hoarse yell.
“Look! There’s a dead man here!”
Instantly all hands were running to him. Captain Marks bent over the limp form lying behind the cases.
“He’s not dead. Someone help me get him up.”
Scotty took hold of the man’s shoulders and they lifted him to a near-by crate.
Rick saw that it was the ship’s carpenter, Meekin , his mouth open and his eyes closed. He was breathing, but with quick, shallow breaths.
“Let’s get him into the air,” the skipper urged. Willing hands lifted the prostrate form and carried him up the ladders to the deck.
In the open air, Meekin stirred feebly and tried to sit up, looking around him with dazed eyes.
“There’s your saboteur,” Scotty said.
There was a hint of dazed comprehension in the carpenter’s face. “What happened, Chips?” Captain Marks grated.
Meekincoughed smoke from his lungs.
“You set the fire and the smoke got you before you could get out, isn’t that it?”
Meekincoughed again.
The skipper shook him roughly. “No stalling. Wasn’t that it?”
The carpenter looked up at the faces above him, at Professor Zircon’s huge bulk, at Scotty’s grim face, at Rick.
“Yeah,” he said.“Yeah.”
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The first officer arrived with a bottle of brandy and poured the fiery stuff down the carpenter’s mouth.
Meekin coughed until his face was purple, but he recovered noticeably.
“Take him to the wardroom,” the skipper directed two seamen. “We want to talk to him.”
The officers gathered in the wardroom with the scientists and the two boys. Meekin , still weak but now able to talk coherently, sat in a chair and faced his accusers, his face sullen.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I set the fire, but it was an accident.”
“An accident, with rags soaked in kerosene? Don’t hand us that stuff.” Captain Marks’s pleasant face was stern. “You could have burned the ship out from under us if the watch hadn’t been on the job. Better talk, Meekin . And fast!”
“It was an accident,” Meekin repeated thickly. “About the hold bein ’ open, I mean. I figgered if the hold was dogged down tight the fire wouldn’t spread. It would maybe die from lack of air. But the smoke got me, like you said, and I passed out before I could get to the door.”
“Why did you set the fire, Meekin ?”
Rick moved closer, his eyes riveted to the man’s streaked face.
“I had me orders,” Meekin said at last.
“Who from?”Rick demanded.
The pale eyes went from face to face. “Suppose I don’t talk?”
Captain Marks said slowly, “You almost destroyed this ship, Meekin . You almost left the crew and officers adrift in lifeboats, not to mention our passengers. You talk, or I’ll let the rest of the crew persuade you.”
Meekinpaled under the coating of grime.
Rick’s eyes went to the captain. He looked fully capable of carrying out the threat, though the boy was sure it was only a bluff.
But if it were, Meekin had no intention of calling it. “I got my orders from a guy namedConway ,” he said.
&
nbsp; “How?”
“He telephoned me inNew York .FromBombay. He said he’d give me a thousand bucks if I wrecked the equipment these guys were bringing aboard.” He jerked his thumb at the professors.
“You spilled that bottle of acid,” Rick accused him. “You tried to ruin the equipment that way first!”
Meekin’spale eyes met his. “You can’t prove it,” the carpenter continued hastily.
“We won’t have to,” the skipper shot back. “We’ve got you cold on this fire. Who isConway ?”
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“He’s a con man,” Meekin said. “I knew him inChina . He knew I was in the States, because I’ve kept in touch with him off and on. When he called, I knew he was good for the dough, so I agreed to do the job.”
“But why did he want our equipment wrecked?” Professor Zircon barked.
Meekinshrugged. “That’s his business.”
“Talk,” the skipper snapped.
“I can’tlThis guy called me on the telephone and said to work my connections to get on this ship and then get rid of the gear. That’s all I know.”
“Why did you steal my little radio?” Rick asked suddenly.
Meekinopened his mouth to speak then clamped it shut again.
“You thought it was part of the radar equipment,” Rick continued.“Maybe an important part. So you stole it.”
“I don’t know what yer talkin ’ about,” Meekin growled.
“Never mind,” Weiss put in. “It isn’t important, Rick. We can be sure he stole it, as you said, and probably threw it overboard. What is important is finding out why thisConway wanted our equipment sabotaged.”
“I tell you I don’t know!”
“I believe him,” Captain Marks said. “Probably he was hired to do a job, without further explanations.
Well, Meekin , I don’t know what the maritime authorities will think about this, but you’ll have a chance to find out.”
He turned to the first mate. “We haven’t a brig, unfortunately, but that gear locker by the forward companionway will do nicely. See that he’s locked up.”
To the scientists he said, “Now, gentlemen, let’s have your gear on deck where we can look it over.”
It was nearing dawn before the inspection was completed and the uncrated equipment stowed under canvas on the forward deck.
The professors had gone over it thoroughly and found a few ruined parts, but nothing-by a great stroke of fortune-that couldn’t be replaced by any radio supply house. Professor Zircon radioed ahead toBombay , requesting a British firm to have replacements ready.
Now all that remained was to recrate the stuff beforeBombay was reached, and to unravel the mystery ofConway .
Dawn came as Rick and Scotty leaned on the rail and talked, watching the dark canal banks slip by.
“There’s no answer,” Rick concluded. “We know that a man namedConway wants to wreck our Page 19
equipment, and that hell pay big money to have it done. But we don’t know who he is or why he wants to do it.”
“It’s creepy,” Scotty answered. “We’ll have to be on the watch from now on, without knowing who or what we’re watching for.”
“This equipment is mostly special stuff, you know,” Rick said thoughtfully. “Dad and the rest put it together themselves, from their own designs. If it were lost, the expedition would have to stop until more could be made.”
“How long would that take?”
“I don’t know exactly.Months.Maybe six, maybe more.”
“Then you figure someone wants to stop the expedition?But why?”
“Search me,” Rick replied. “Maybe well find the answer inBombay .”
CHAPTER V
Bombay
The blue of theIndian Ocean was fast turning to a muddy brown, a sign that they were nearing land. But the heat haze low over the water limited visibility to a few thousand feet.
Rick and Scotty were already packed, and the professors were below, collecting the last of their gear.
“The skipper said we should see land pretty soon,” Rick said.
Scotty took his arm. “ Lookl”
Far ahead, swimming out of the mist, were sails. They shimmered in the heat haze, some of them red, some brown,some gaudy with patches of many colors.
The skipper came by and paused long enough to say: “Dhows.Native craft.”
Rick and Scotty watched eagerly as the curved, graceful craft drew near. They forged past, and dark-skinned, turbaned men waved and yelled.
“Gosh, it’s just like the movies, isn’t it?” Scotty remarked. “All those colored sails and stuff. Reminds me of a travelogue I saw once.”
Far ahead, a darker blur was visible through the heat haze. The boys watched in silence, eager for their first glimpse ofIndia . Hobart Zircon joined them. He mopped his face with a huge handkerchief.
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“Bombay,” he rumbled. “I can smell it already.”
Rick sniffed. Sure enough, there was a new odor in the air. It was pungent, spicy,rather unpleasant. But it was completely new, and he felt a pleasant tingle of anticipation.
Professor Weiss arrived, and they watched asIndia unfolded before them. Soon, large buildings were visible, some of them of white stone, some of brick. And then the docks themselves were in sight, and the ship was edging up to a pier next to a ship that flew the British ensign. One of the sailors threw a line that was caught by scantily clad men on the dock. The mooring line ran out, and they were secured.
Rick and Scotty watched, fascinated by the teeming throngs on the docks. All the dock equipment was modern: big cranes, concrete piers, railroad tracks close by. But the people were like something out of the Arabian Nights, The dock workers seemed to be all of a kind, all clad in brief, draped rags, and with soiled turbans on their heads.
The gangway was lowered to thedock, and the skip’ per shook hands all around.
“Well,” he said with a hard smile, “we made it
There were a few moments when I had my doubts, thanks to our friend Meekin . I’m turning him in today.”
Zircon and Weiss checked the baggage with customs officials while Rick and Scotty hurried up the ladder, eager for a closer look at the strange sights.
Over beneath a huge crane, a crowd had gathered. A boy was doing a juggling act with a handful of stones for die entertainment of some of the dock workers. Near by, gaunt old men crouched over huge bowls of foodstuffs which neither boy could identify. Their voices, cracked and shrill, lifted rhythmically as they hawked their wares.
Zircon and Weiss came down the gangway and joined them. Zircon clapped his hands and instantly a mob was around them. The burly scientist pointed to hah* a dozen out of the tattered crowd, then indicated their personal baggage, piled on the ship’s deck.
The chosen half dozen swarmed to the deck, hoisted the suitcases and trunks to their heads, and came back again, looking expectantly at Zircon.
At once a new crowd gathered,this time made up of men with a more prosperous look to them. Some wore red fezzes on their heads, and one had a felt hat.
“Speech Eengleesh , sari” the one with the felt hat said.
Zircon nodded to him, and to one of the men wearing a red fez. “Green’s Hotel,” he bellowed.
They ran off, followed by the porters with the luggage carried on their heads.
Rick and Scotty looked at each other and grinned. Zircon had the situation well in hand.
A little man with a shiny black hat and an equally shiny black frock coatapproached, bowing and smiling.
He wore tight-fitting white trousers and had no shoes.
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Weiss lowered his voice and spoke to the boys.“A Parsee. They’re merchants, mostly. Wonder what this one wants?”
The Parsee addressed them all impartially, his eyes going from one to the other. “I am from the hotel,” he informed them in excellent English. “You are Dr. Zircon and party?”
“That is correct,” Zircon re
plied.
“I have a truck,” the Parsee said. “You have many heavy boxes for the hotel warehouse? I am to take them for you.”
Zircon breathed a sigh of relief. “I was wondering how we would get the equipment to the hotel.” He pointed to the crates on the schooner’s deck. “There it is. Have you men to help you?”
“All is arranged, sir,” the Parsee informed him. He waved his hand, and half a dozen men came running.
Across the dock, a blunt-nosed truck coughed into life and roared toward them.
Under the Parsee’s direction, the equipment was loaded in a few minutes. Then the black- hattedman bowed. “This will be taken to the hotel warehouse.”
“Wait,” Weiss said nervously. “Hobart, we shouldn’t leave the equipment. I’m afraid-“ hehesitated.
“You’re right, Julius,” Zircon agreed.
“Illgowith it,” Scotty offered, “and meet you at the hotel. I’d feel better, too, if one of us kept an eye on it.”
“Want me to come?” Rick asked.
“No, don’t bother. One is enough.”
“Okay,” Rick said. “Don’t get into trouble.”
“And see that they’re careful of it,” Weiss added.
Scotty climbed on the truck and took a seat on top of the equipment. The porters climbed on with him.
He waved gaily as the truck turned out through the gate.
Zircon led the way across the pier to where the man in the felt hat and the one in the red fez waited beside old-fashioned, horse-drawn open carriages. “Gharries,” the big scientist said. “Not as fast as taxicabs, but a lot safer.”
The baggage was stowed in one and the three climbed into the one driven by the man in the felt hat.
Once they left the dock area, there were streetcars, and busses, and even motion-picture theaters. In the center of intersections, little purple- and yellow-clad policemen directed traffic from under huge umbrellas carried on a frame in their belts.
The gharry pulled up before a tall brick structure with a wide balcony just above the street. A uniformed doorman in the inevitable turban ran to meet them, touching his hand to his forehead, lips, and heart in the Page 22
Moslem fashion. “Salaam, Sahibs,” he greeted them. “Welcome to Green’s Hotel!”
