Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  II

  OUT OF THE POISON FOG

  Over the jungle cove rolled an unbroken cloud of billowing, greenishsmoke. It blotted out the white beach, spread out over the blue water,and crept slowly outward toward the anchored gunboat.

  From its murky edge came the roar of powerful engines. The seaplane'snose emerged from the poisonous smoke, slid swiftly over the waves, androse like a great white gull into the clear upper air.

  Aboard the gunboat, steam winches began weighing the two anchors, whileofficers and seamen hurried to batten down hatches and closeventilators. Slowly the craft's sharp bow swung seaward. Her twinpropellors churned white water at her stern.

  Neither the launch nor its erstwhile occupants could be seen beneaththat greenish cloud of poison gas. In vain the seaplane's pilot circledthe big airship over the jungle's edge, looking for a break in thesmoke.

  "Fly lower, Panama!" commanded the hard-jawed man in the after cockpit."If that stuff thins, even for a moment, we may be able to spotsomebody. There's eleven souls down there, at death's door for all weknow."

  "That's where we'll be, Mr. Splendor, if the gas hits us!" replied thepilot. "But here goes.... Look! The wind's made a rift in the cloud!There's the launch, and a couple of men sprawled beside it!"

  "Drop landing gear!" cried Splendor, as the plane's nose dippedearthward. "Land in the cove and taxi right up onto the beach. We mustget those poor fellows to the gunboat or die trying!"

  With a quick nod, Panama cut the throttle. An instant later theseaplane's pontoons touched the water in a flash of white spray.Straight into the thinning gas cloud the ship plunged, heading for thelevel beach.

  To anxious watchers aboard the gunboat, it looked as if Michael Splendorand his plucky pilot had committed deliberate suicide. Unable to see therift which Panama had spotted from the air, they waited in agonizedsuspense for the plane's reappearance.

  Suddenly Captain Riggs raised a pointing arm.

  "There's the plane, now, but something's wrong, Lieutenant!" heexclaimed, to the junior officer beside him. "See how low she rides inthe water! And what under the sun are those dark blotches on the forwardfuselage?"

  Peering through his binoculars, Lieutenant Darnley cried out inamazement.

  "They're men, Captain!" he reported. "Mr. Splendor is holding two ofthem, and there's another in his cockpit. All three look to beunconscious, sir!"

  "Lower the whaleboat!" bellowed Riggs, leaning over the bridge's rail."Stand by to take men off the seaplane. Darnley, tell the medicalofficer to prepare berths in the sick bay. I'm going in the boatmyself!"

  Moments later the seaplane's crew gave up their helpless passengers tothe whaleboat. Michael Splendor, his eyes streaming with tears from thepoison gas fumes, insisted on going back at once for another rescueattempt.

  "We've still to find the main shore party, Captain!" he explainedbetween gasps for breath. "There's young Winslow and Pennington still tobe found, not to forget Admiral Colby's daughter. Every second willcount if we're to save their lives!"

  "You're right, Mr. Splendor!" agreed Riggs, balancing in the whaleboat'ssternsheets. "We'll follow you inshore, as soon as we get these poorfellows aboard. The smoke looks to be thinning now. Good luck!"

  His words were drowned out by the roar of the seaplane's motors. Like ahuge water bird she taxied around, heading back to the beach. At thesame moment, the boat's oarsmen gave way with short powerful strokesthat sped them toward the waiting ship.

  Once alongside, the boat falls were made fast by expert hands, and thewhaleboat was lifted dripping from the water. Even before the gassedseamen were transferred to the sick bay, the ship was nosing shorewardto join in the next desperate attempt at rescuing Don Winslow and hisgallant companions.

  * * * * *

  Many hours later a westering sun cast its mellow rays through theportholes of the gunboat _Gatoon_, now a floating hospital anchored offthe coast of Haiti. In the vessel's sick bay, a white-coated medicalofficer bent frowning over one of the ten occupied berths. So intentlywas he watching the patient that he failed to hear the door open, or seethe approach of the big man in the wheelchair.

  "I thought this is where I'd find you, Doctor!" exclaimed the latter,his tone warm with a touch of Irish brogue. "They told me the seaman,Jerry, is sinking fast!"

  The young doctor turned with a shake of his head.

  "He's in pretty bad shape, Mr. Splendor," he said wearily. "The othersare coming around surprisingly well, though. Even the girl, Miss Colby.I expect Commander Winslow and Lieutenant Pennington will regainconsciousness this evening."

  "That's just fine, Doctor!" exclaimed Splendor heartily. "Do ye mind ifI go along when next ye look in on 'em. Even with me crippled legs, Ipromise not to be in the way."

  "Come along, of course, Mr. Splendor," smiled the medical officer,opening the door. "If you and your seaplane had been OUT of the way thismorning, none of these men would be alive now. You're pretty much of ahero on this ship, whether you know it or not!"

  "You mean my pilot, Panama!" growled the big man, rolling his chairalong the steel deck. "It was him who did the rescuing, while I sathelpless in me cockpit.... Ah! So this is the cabin where ye put DonWinslow and his redheaded mate, eh?"

  With a nod, the doctor threw open the cabin door.

  "They seem to be still asleep, both of them," he murmured, glancingacross the narrow room. "Here! I'll help you with that chair, if you'dlike to come in."

  Low pitched as they were, the words registered on Don Winslow'sslumbering senses. He stirred, opened his eyes, and struggled up on oneelbow.

  "Michael Splendor!" he exclaimed huskily. "I dreamed about you, and aseaplane, and a cloud of poison smoke and.... Say! Where are we, anyhow?And what am I doing in this cabin?"

  Rolling his chair swiftly to the side of the berth, Michael Splendorheld up a big hand.

  "Whisht, and be quiet, young feller-me-lad!" he rumbled. "It was nodream ye had about the poison smoke. Ye're still sick from it, so takeit easy. Your mate, the redheaded lieutenant, is sleepin' in the nextberth to ye."

  "I am not, Don!" croaked Red Pennington, trying to sit up. "I was lyinglow so as not to wake you! Oh-h-h! Golly! Does my head hurt!"

  "It will be worse if you don't lie down, Pennington!" snapped themedical officer. "If you and Commander Winslow didn't have leather lungsand cast iron constitutions, we'd be sewing you up in canvas right now,for a sea burial. You two got the biggest dose of smoke!"

  "But Mercedes--I mean, Miss Colby--she must have been gassed too!" criedDon Winslow, from the other berth. "Is she coming out of it yet, Doctor?Tell me the truth...."

  "Hush, lad!" soothed Splendor, pushing the young officer back onto hispillow. "Miss Colby's out of danger, so don't excite yourself. We gotYanos and the two fishermen in time, too, along with the launch's crew.Ye'll hear all the details tomorrow, when you're feelin' stronger. Thedoctor and I will be leavin' ye now."

  "But--the underground base!" muttered Don weakly, pressing a hand to hisaching eyes. "About that apparatus, and the automatic weather map--Tellme, Splendor...."

  "We'll talk about that another time," said the man in the wheel chair."There's nothing to worry about, except the strength ye're wastin' thisminute, Commander. So pipe down and give your thoughts a rest till ye'recalled on deck. The same goes for you, Pennington, d'ye hear?"

  "Aye-aye, sir!" came the redhead's mumbled response, as the cabin doorclosed softly behind the visitors.