by John Blaine
Barby pointed to the powerhead hanging from his belt. Rick nodded. Actually, he wouldn’t use the powerhead except as a last resort. Against a single shark it was an excellent weapon, but it was like having a rifle with one cartridge to use against a wolf pack. If the powerhead drew blood, a feeding Page 43
frenzy would result. That didn’t often happen, because the explosion acted like a blow with a blunt object. But it could happen, and he wouldn’t risk it.
He led the way up the line to the 50-foot level and paused while the others gathered around. He used his communicator to say, “Very slow to 30 feet.” He set the pace, looking back to see that Scotty was bringing up the rear, then keeping his eyes upward, on the sharks. The big animals roamed back and forth, so that he couldn’t count accurately, but he estimated that more than two dozen were in the vicinity, with perhaps six to ten moving around the buoy line.
The nearest sharks were only about 12 feet above them when they paused at the 30-foot mark. Rick looked at his watch and waited until the second hand swept a full minute, then he switched to his communicator. “Girls take rope. Boys even spaced, face out. Moveslow to 20.” He put his mouthpiece back in place and took a deep breath. He, Scotty, and Dick formed a triangle-shaped screen around the girls, facing away from the buoy line.
Rick felt a hand on his shoulder as they began the slow rise, and knew that one of the girls was giving him a guide by which to stay even with them. They might be scared, but they were using their heads.
As they reached the 20-foot level a big blue, easily 12 feet long, passed Rick so close that he could have touched it. The shark was interested, but not anxious. A big, black eye examined him, as though wondering whether this creature was edible. They paused at 20 feet. Now the going would be harder, because the sharks would be around them and under them. If one made a pass from underneath, they might not see it in time.
Rick used his communicator. “I go upside down. Scotty tow.One each in front of girl.”
Scotty signaled that he understood. Rick moved head downward, and felt Scotty’s hand on his ankle.
He was getting in position to keep a downward lookout when something brushed him. He whirled and his face mask almost banged into Jan’s. She was upside down, too. He bent double and looked up. Barby had Jan’s ankle.
He winked at the girl, then made a motion of pressing his chest hard while he exhaled. He wanted to be sure she understood that they would have to work harder to clear their lungs after every breath while in the upside-down position, otherwise their decompression wouldn’t be complete. She nodded to show she understood, then winked back.
Above them on the line, Scotty, Barby, and Dick began the ascent to the 10-foot level. Rick and Jan, facing in opposite directions, kept watch. By tilting his head toward his chest now and then, Rick could see any sharks below the knees of the three moving upright. By tilting his head until his neck stretched, he could see straight down. It wasn’t an uncomfortable position. Divers spend a good bit of time upside down in normal diving.
The blues were curious, but keeping their distance. They circled about twenty feet out. Rick couldn’t help admiring their grace and fluidity in the water. Killers they were, but also magnificent animals.
Jan grabbed his arm. Rick twisted in time to see a big blue making a run from below, and only feet away. He did the only thing he could do. As the pointed nose came within reach, he cupped his hand over it and shoved the shark to one side. It flashed past.
Rick took a deep breath. He had seen Peter Gimbel do that in his blue shark movie, and it had made his hair stand on end. He had never expected to do it himself. One thing was certain. It would never become Page 44
his hobby.
They reached the 10-foot level and stopped. Two minutes to wait. Most of the sharks were below them now, and only one or two were paying much attention. A 15-footer that looked like a Navy submarine under the water made a slow run. Rick waved his hands and the shark veered, not hurrying. This was the pattern. The next run would be a little more serious. He looked at his watch, then began to count to himself.One thousand, two thousand, and so on. The big shark was about 30 feet away now, apparently thinking things over. Having decided, he started his run, not moving fast. Rick waited, every nerve alert.
The shark probed in, almost gently.
Rick was glad the vicious mouth was well under-slung, far behind the conical nose. The shark moved in.
Rick grabbed the nose and pushed hard to one side, feeling the roughness of the skin under his hand. He twisted as the shark went by, and saw it move away, probably to get ready for another run. He looked at his watch. The two minutes were almost up. He took Jan’s arm and swung her upright until the two of them were even with their friends, then he tapped Dick Antell and motioned to him to keep an eye open below. Dick nodded and reversed position.
There was slack in the buoy line that Rick could use. He began to haul in, looping the rope through his hands until he had about a dozen feet. He made a circle in the doubled rope and passed the looped end through. Then drawing his knife from the leg sheath, he cut the loop free, leaving the buoy line safely tied.
He used his communicator. “I tie line to swim ladder. We must hang below hull. All swim, stay at 10
feet.”
The most dangerous part of the escape would be when the divers went from water into air. They could no longer see the sharks clearly then, and with body half in and half out of water, they were highly vulnerable. With Rick leading the way they abandoned the buoy line and swam to a point 10 feet below the swim ladder. They could see its lower rung in the water, directly overhead. Dick Antell, using his arms to swim backwards so that he could keep an eye out to the rear, joined them.
Rick made a 360-degree turn to size up the situation. His unwanted pal, the big 15-footer, was circling in the distance, but the boy could see the huge liquid eye watching the group. No matter. The blue wasn’t making a run. Holding the end of the rope tightly, he swam up to the ladder, passed the end over the rung and quickly tied it with half hitches. When he turned at a shout from below, the big blue was moving in on him. Rick lunged, holding to the rope with one hand, and the blue shied away.
He rejoined his friends, feeling like a matador in a ring full of wild bulls, but without the protection of cape and sword. It took a moment for his breathing to return to nearly normal.
When he thought he could dispense with his mouthpiece long enough for a few words, he inhaled deeply and switched to his communicator. “We go up just far enough to see under boat.” He had to switch back to breathe again, then resumed. “When I slap, Barby go up into boat.”Time out for another breath. He blew the water from the communicator and went on. “Jan go on second slap.”
Staying in a tight cluster, boys facing outward, they moved up the line until their heads were only a foot below the boat’s hull. Rick heard the high-pitched roar of a racing motor, but paid no attention. One of the smaller blues was making a trial run. This time Scotty used the hand-on-nose technique, and as the shark veered, Barby helped it with a strong push with her fin. Rick surveyed quickly. The big blue was still interested, but not yet starting a run. Rick turned and slapped Barby on the shoulder. Instantly the girl went up the line, reached out of the water for a handhold, pulled one knee up onto the lowest rung, and then was gone.
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The motion had attracted the big blue. He was coming, and faster. Rick braced, but Dick Antell moved, hauling himself up on the line. As the big blue nosed in, Dick slammed both feet down on the beast’s head, driving it underneath them. Rick slapped Jan on the arm. She went up the line with fins driving, and in a moment she, too, was safe.
Rick breathed deeply. He pointed to Dick Antell, who shook his head. Scotty shook his head, too. Rick took a quick look around and saw no sharks making runs. They were ah, circling at a good distance. He slapped Dick across the chest and jerked his thumb upward in a no-nonsense gesture. Dick was too much a professional to argue with a div
e master. He went up the line, caught the ladder, and was gone into the air.
For the first time, Rick unsnapped the powerhead from his belt. The sharks were closer, but the big blue had grown a bit cautious. He was moving nervously, but keeping his head toward them. Rick slapped Scotty on the arm and motioned upward.
Scotty went, and Rick moved up on the line, getting ready. He made a 360-degree turn. The aggressive smaller shark was about to make a pass from one side, and the biggest blue was showing signs of restlessness on the other. Rick slid the safety catch off the powerhead. This was the worst moment.
The smaller shark came first, not too rapidly. Rick kept his head swiveling. If they made simultaneous runs, he was cooked-or eaten uncooked. But there was no cooperation among the blues. The little one reached him. Rick grabbed the pointed nose and shoved, swinging on the line from the energetic push.
The shark accelerated in a wide circle.
The big blue arrived. It was now or never. Rick moved to one side and jammed the powerhead into the animals’ gill plate. The concussion jarred him, but he was moving on the echo, seeing the big blue, half-curled, floating limply downward. Rick reached the ladder, grabbed for the second rung.
Hands grasped his wrist and pulled. He was lifted up bodily, and as his feet left the water, he saw the flash of a fin. A shot echoed in his ears, and the fin rolled, blood spurting. Rick fell in a heap on the deck, safe.
CHAPTER XII
The Warning
Rick rolled over, and Scotty helped him to his feet. Rick took in the situation at a glance. While he had concentrated on the sharks, the fishing boat had moved closer-and the boat was the Hester II, the seagoing tug commanded by Captain Biggs.
On the tug’s bow was a man with a rifle, watching the churning of water where the sharks had gone into a feeding frenzy because of the blood from a rifle shot that had smashed into the fin of a shark just as Rick had made his grab for safety.
Coming alongside the divers’ boat was Hartson Brant, and the scientist’s face was white with anxiety.
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Not until the two Spindrift boats were tied together and the scientist had counted those on deck and inquired if they were all right did color return to his face.
“The tug was chumming,” Hartson Brant said grimly.
Rick nodded. “They were fishing for sharks,” he said.
“So I saw. When I first saw the tug I put the glasses on it, and I could see chum being thrown over the side. I ran to the boat and came out here at top speed, and I could seethem pulling sharks in.”
The tug was moving closer now, and they watched silently as it hove to only a few feet away. Captain Biggs came down from the wheelhouse and leaned on the deck rail.
“Everyone all right?” he called.
“Yes, no thanks to you,” Hartson Brant said coldly. “Tell me, Captain, what kind of extreme stupidity or viciousness would make a man chum for sharks in the vicinity of divers?”
“Now, hold on!” Biggs retorted icily. “It was neither. As soon as I saw a diver come out of the water, I stationed a rifleman on the bow to protect anyone else. I didn’t know there were any divers down.”
Rick pointed to the flag waving from the masthead. “What do you think that is?”
“It’s not a signal I recognize. Is it supposed to mean something?”
“It means that divers are working in the vicinity and to stay clear,” Rick snapped.
“I didn’t find it in my book of signals,” Biggs returned.
“Then you’d better get a new book,” Rick shot back. “It’s a standard signal.”
“For inland and near-shore waters, probably,” Biggs said. “It’s not among the international signal flags.
A seagoing captain couldn’t be expected to recognize it. Look, I’m sorry.All right? I’m sorry.”
“I think you’re a liar,” Scotty said flatly. “When the diver’s flag was adopted it was included in Notices to Mariners. It may not be in the old books, but as a licensed captain you’re responsible for knowing all officially recognized signals.”
“I said I was sorry,” Biggs returned testily.
Dick Antell spoke up. “If you ever accidentally get within my reach, you’ll be a whole lot sorrier. I agree with Scotty. You’re a liar, and not a very convincing one. What did you think this boat was doing here with no one in sight?”
“Boats are not my business, except to avoid them. For all I knew, everyone aboard might have been taking a nap.”
Hartson Brant was controlling his anger with an effort. “You can enlighten me, Captain. What is a tugboat doing fishing for sharks?”
“Oh, we go after them all the time. It’s extra income for the crew, and we have the company’s Page 47
permission, so long as it doesn’t interfere with the job.”
“What are you doing back here?” Rick demanded.
“Why, I’m here to get the exact position of the wreck and buoy it. Then I’ll test its buoyancy. The next step will be to send down a diver to look it over, although we won’t do that for a while. However, I see you’ve already buoyed it for us. I want to thank you for that. Now, I suggest you stay away from the wreck in the future. It would be safer. We’ll be working around here, and I wouldn’t want any accidents to happen.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Hartson Brant said coldly. “I intend to report this incident, Captain Biggs.”
“You do that,” Biggs said indifferently.
“Let’s get going,” Rick said. “This conversation is getting us nowhere, and I’m overheating in this suit.
Pull up the ladder, Scotty, while I get the gear stowed so the tanks won’t roll around.”
“I’ll see you at home,” Hartson Brant said. “Anyone want to ride with me?”
Both girls accepted the invitation. As Rick helped his sister over the side into the smaller boat, he asked,
“All okay, Sis?”
“Just fine.Will you teach me to use a powerhead, Rick?”
“That’s a promise,” he told her. He turned to give Jan a hand.“How about you?”
“Back to normal,” the girl told him. “I was scared, Rick.”
He smiled at her. “Join the club, Jan. We all were.”
The three watched as Hartson Brant cast off and started the run back to Spindrift, then Dick Antell helped Rick block the tanks so they wouldn’t roll when the boat got under way. Scotty stowed the swim ladder, then walked to the bow. He pulled out his knife and cut the buoy away before untying the boat from the buoy line.
Rick grinned as Scotty held up the buoy so Captain Biggs could see it. “Do your own dragging for the wreck!” he snapped. “You’ll get no help from us!”
Captain Biggs sounded aggrieved. “You’d think I was trying to harm you instead of minding my own business. I told you I was sorry.”
“You’ll be sorrier,” Scotty promised. “Let’s go, Rick.”
Rick took the boat controls and started the engines, then backed off to clear the sinking buoy line, turned the boat and headed for shore.
Dick Antell and Scotty joined him.
“Chumming for sharks right over us was deliberate,” Scotty said flatly.
“Sure it was,” Dick Antell agreed. “I don’t think he intended the sharks to get us, otherwise he’d have Page 48
tossed meat right where we were. But he certainly intended to scare us off.”
“There’s something about that wreck he doesn’t want us to know,” Rick said thoughtfully. “If we’d stayed down a little longer, we might have found out. Did he just happen to arrive on time, or is someone keeping track of us?”
“The hurricane watchers?”Scotty queried.
Rick shrugged.“Maybe.” He waved his arm at the length of shore before them. “It would only take one man with a telephone to keep an eye on the wreck location, and he could be anywhere along the shore for a distance of three or four miles. But my guess is that Captain Biggs arrived accidentally. I saw smoke on t
he horizon just before I went down, and it must have been the tug. He couldn’t have arrived in time, otherwise. I’ll bet he saw us, too, just as we tied up, and he probably shoved those big engines to full speed ahead.”
“Do you suppose he and his crew really fish sharks as a regular thing?” Antell asked.
“He must. They had the chum and the bait, and they wouldn’t have carried it just in case divers were around.”
Scotty looked back at the tugboat. “So he used what he had. I’d like to get my hands on him for a few seconds. It wouldn’t have shaken me so much if the girls hadn’t been with us,”
“Same here,” Rick agreed. “And do you know what his stunt is going to get him?”
“Disaster,” Scotty said grimly. “We’re going to find out what he doesn’t want us to know, even if we have to dive at night.”
“And I’ll be with you all the way,” Dick Antell promised.
CHAPTER XIII
Beyond Reach
By the time equipment was stowed properly and the divers had showered and changed, Mrs. Brant had a hearty lunch prepared. At Rick’s suggestion, the five famished divers, with Mr. and Mrs. Brant and Roger Pryor, took their plates to the big front porch, where they could watch the tugboat over the wreck.
Rick grinned at the girls. Both were as slim and trim as professional models in tailored slacks and blouses, but both had plates as heavily ladenas his own .
“Are you sure you two don’t want some of that canned liquid gunk for lunch?”
Barby and Jan frequently had a liquid diet lunch, which Rick and Scotty thought ridiculous. Both were far too active to put on weight, even if they ate far more than they did.
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“Of all sports, diving consumes far more calories than any except the most strenuous,” Barby said solemnly.
Rick recognized the statement as a paraphrase of one in a book about scuba diving.
“Besides,” Jan added, “if we ever get eaten by sharks, we want to be remembered as a good, healthy mouthful.”
