The Wailing Octopus

by John Blaine

  “How do we find the statue?” Rick asked.

  Tony handed him the wrecking bar with a grin. “Take the wreck apart a piece at a time.

  And if you still haven’t found it, start digging.”

  The boys sighed. Rick recalled reading somewhere that treasure hunting was

  synonymous with ditch digging. Now he knew what the author meant.

  Scotty and Zircon prepared to dive, shifting the regulators to fresh tanks. While they checked equipment, Rick rummaged through the boat’s locker and found a length of heavy line. An empty water jug with a screw cap was attached to it, and he handed the end of the line to Scotty to take down with him.

  “The fishing float and line isn’t heavy enough. Let’s add this, just in case.”

  Scotty took it and went over the side. He carried his spear gun while Zircon took the wrecking bar. Rick watched as they vanished from sight, leaving only the continuing track of bubbles.

  Ashore, a man came out of the fancy frogmen’s house and walked down to the beach.

  He shaded his eyes and stared at the Water Witch. Rick pointed him out to Tony.

  “This business stumps me,” the archaeologist admitted. “Are you certain about the identity of the man who was trailingAmes ?”

  “We’re dead sure.”

  “Then is there any possible way he could have known about our presence on the island?”

  “Not unless he recognized the Water Witch.”

  “That must be it. The question is,what do we do about it?”

  “Nothing, I guess.Except to be on our guard.”

  Twin sets of bubbles rose, some distance from the boat, showing that both lungs were working well twenty fathoms down. Since the bubbles did not ascend vertically, they did not show the location of the two on the bottom. Rick studied them, working on an idea.

  The chicken had dropped pretty close to them. But since their floats were tied to the reef, and their bubbles were carried off a vertical path by the light currents, neither could have been used to pinpoint their whereabouts- unless whoever dropped the chicken had an excellent knowledge of the currents in this particular place!

  He carried the thought further. The shadow had gotten upset because he and Scotty had gone swimming in an area where something was hidden. At least, that was a reasonable assumption, based on the events atSt. Thomas . The fancy diving gear in the house, the attempt to warn them off, and the presence of Steve’s erstwhile shadow on Clipper Cay could then be added up.

  Right here, in this particular area, another mysterious something was hidden!

  Something that the fancy frogmen dived often to see, use,collect, or whatever they did with it. That would account for their familiarity with the currents!

  He started to tell Tony,then reconsidered. It was a pretty good hypothesis, he thought, but not supported by ironclad evidence. If he told the scientists, they might forbid any more diving in the area. And he was determined to get that treasure-more for his sister Barby than for himself. If he failed to get it there would be no living with Barby, since she would always maintain she could have found it if they had only allowed her to go on their old expedition.

  Zircon and Scotty broke water and Rick helped them aboard.

  “It’s a ship, and a sailing ship at that,” Zircon boomed. “We identified what was almost certainly a compass binnacle, probably brass, but there wasn’t time to get it free and

  bring it up. Scotty found what is probably the muzzleof a cannon, buried in the sand.”

  “There’s so much growth over everything that it’s hard to tell what’s what,” Scotty added. “But it certainly looked like a cannon muzzle.”

  “From what we saw, I suspect that the portion above the sand is the stern, probably the stern superstructure. If the timbers haven’t completely rotted away, ripping off the top should expose the stern cabins.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Tony agreed. “At any rate, it’s a good basis for operation.

  Rick, if you’ll look in my kit, you will find a larger bar you can borrow. You’ll both need tools if you’re going to take the ship apart.”

  “Anyway, that’s enough diving for the morning,” Zircon said. “Let’s up anchor and go.”

  While the others got the boat underway, Rick started the compressor in the cockpit and connected up the tanks they had used. He almost wished he and

  Scotty had been extravagant and had ordered triple tank blocks to give them maximum time under water. Still, the singles were convenient, and diving was a sport it wasn’t wise to overdo. By the time they were through with lunch and had rested awhile, the tanks would be fully charged again.

  As they tied up, Zircon said, “Tony and I will work at his midden this afternoon. You two take the boat. We won’t need it. I’ll walk over and take a look every once in a while, and if we see our friends from the cottage near you, we’ll come running.”

  The boys helped Tony prepare a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, then all hands retired to the front porch to eat.

  Up the beach, there were signs of activity around the frogmen’s boat. As they ate and watched, the boat moved away from the pier and approached the reef, where it anchored.

  Rick went to get the binoculars and focused them on the scene.

  Two frogmen, complete with suits, went over the side right where their buoys floated!

  “They’re diving at the wreck!” he exclaimed.

  Zircon took the glasses and watched, then handed them to Tony.

  The archaeologist muttered, “Surely they can’t be interested in the treasure. It would be simply too much coincidence for them even to know about it.”

  “Maybe they’re just looking to see what interested us,” Scotty offered, and his explanation seemed the most plausible.

  The group watched until the frogmen surfaced and the boat went back to its pier.

  “Scotty has it,” Zircon agreed. “From what we’ve seen, I’d say they simply followed our buoy lines down to see what we had been doing.”

  “If that’s the extent of their interest, I don’t see how we could object,” Tony said. “Or even if they tried for the treasure we’d have no grounds for objecting. The ship is anyone’s property after all these years.”

  Rick said flatly, “We won’t do any objecting, but we’ll do plenty of watching. We’re going to get that treasure if it’s there, whether the fancy frogmen like it or not!”

  CHAPTER X

  The Wailing Octopus

  As Rick steered the Water Witch to its anchorage above the reef, he told Scotty about the theory he had developed that morning.

  He concluded, “Their going out to take a look where we were diving is another piece of evidence.Unless they were afraid that we might be interested in their stuff-whatever and wherever it is-why would they be so concerned about what we’re do-ing?”

  “It makes a lot of sense,” Scotty agreed soberly. He looked at Rick with a sudden twinkle. “It might be a good idea to take a look around down below-just so we’ll know what to stay away from, of course.”

  Rick grinned.

  By the time they dropped anchor, Scotty had the diving gear rigged and it was only the work of minutes to get into the water. Each carried a spear gun in one hand and a wrecking bar in the other. Ordinarily they would not have bothered with the guns, but being armed seemed just common sense.

  On the bottom, Rick scouted around the wreck, looking for signs of its former structure while Scotty attacked the stern with a crowbar. Under Scotty’s prying, a timber suddenly

  gave with an audible crack, and a huge grouper that must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds rushed past Rick, startling him half to death until he saw what it was.

  Scotty hooted in derision as Rick back-pedaled, then he put his bar down and swam to Rick’s side. He scrawled on his belt slate, “Whrehe cmfrm ?”

  Rick shrugged. It was a good question. They swam slowly around, looking for the grouper’s hiding place and failed to locate it. R
ick knew the big fish liked caves, rocky clefts, and the interiors of wrecks. This one must have a hole somewhere.

  He tried again, going right down to the bottom and crawling along with stomach touching the sand. Even so, he might have missed the hole if stirred-up dust from the fish’s sudden departure hadn’t indicated where it was. The hole, big enough for him to crawl through, was under the wreck, hidden by rotted planks covered with marine growth. He hooted for Scotty’s attention and showed it to him.

  He took his belt slate and wrote, “Way intoshp ?”

  Scotty nodded and wrote in his turn, “Toodrk . Needlites .”

  Rick nodded. For a moment he was tempted to try ripping off the planks with his bar, but he decided against it. Any disturbance might very well collapse the entire structure.

  He wondered whether the hole was just a shallow opening, or whether it actually led into the ship. No matter. They had watertight flashlights with their spare gear in the boat.

  They could find out on the next dive.

  For their remaining time underwater he joined Scotty in his assault on the stern of the ship. They were rewarded by finding whatwas evidently the interior of a cabin . Rick ripped off another plank,then jumped as Scotty hooted four times for danger. The cabin was the home of a fairly large moray eel! Both boys dropped their bars and grabbed for their spear guns, but Scotty held up his hand in a sign to wait. Rick did so, and saw the big eel emerge and swim rapidly toward the reef.

  Scotty had shown wisdom. The moray is hard to kill, and this one would have given them a battle that might have used up more air than they could spare.

  The water inside the cabin was murky. Rick looked at his watch. They had only a few minutes left. He wrote on his slate, “Stydwntilrsrvewrning .”

  Scotty nodded agreement.

  They watched as the water settled and the interior of the cabin grew clearer. Evidently it

  had been a very small cabin. There was a rotted frame that might once have been a single bunk, and a few broken, almost disintegrated boards that might have been a table.

  Mattress and bedding had long since vanished. Then Rick spotted asquarish shape under the ruin of the bunk and motioned to Scotty. They went in after it.

  The top crumbled under their touch and silt rose into the water around them. But Rick persisted and felt fabric under his hands. He pulled it out and recognized a seaman’s jacket, brass buttons corroded and fabric nearly rotted through. Apparently they had found a sea chest, but their exploring hands discovered nothing but rotted fabrics.

  Rick felt the warning constriction that told him he had only minutes left. He pulled down the reserve lever of his tank and touched Scotty’s arm. He hooted twice for the ascent.

  Back in the Water Witch, they connected their tanks to the compressor, put the regulators on charged tanks,then tested their underwater flashlights.

  Rick said, “Do you realize I haven’t taken a single picture?”

  “Why not take some on the next dive?”

  “Good idea.” Rick went into the cabin and brought out his camera.

  The camera was the same one he had adapted for night movies, during their adventure known as Smugglers’ Reef. He had built an underwater case for it from stainless steel and Lucite. An intricate gear arrangement allowed him to focus or change aperture underwater, and a light meter in the rear of the case told him what setting to use. There was an ordinary inner-tube valve projecting from one side by which the case could be charged with compressed air to compensate for the pressure of the water. The unit was battery-powered and had a bracket for mounting the infrared light used for night photography.

  He unscrewed the front of the case and took the camera from its mount. He hesitated.

  “Suppose there’s enough light down there for color film?”

  “There might be,” Scotty replied, “but you wouldn’t gain much by using color.

  Everything would photograph in shades of green.Might as well have it in shades of gray.”

  “You’ve got a point.” Rick loaded the camera with fast black-and-white film and returned it to the case. Then he replaced the cover and disconnected the compressor long enough to pump pressure into the camera case. “Ready to go,” he announced.

  “Take it easy,” Scotty said. “We’d better rest a half hour or so. If we don’t knock ourselves out, we can get in three more dives today.”

  Rick knew the wisdom of that. He adjusted the camera and took a series of

  “establishing” shots, to establish that the movie had been taken on a boat near an island.

  Then, when the time came to dive, he photographed Scotty entering the water. At his direction, Scotty got out again, while Rick got in, swam down a few feet, and took a shot of Scotty entering from that angle. Then the camera followed as Scotty flippered smoothly down into the deep water.

  Rick followed, camera extended in front of him, sighting through the gun-type sights mounted on top of the case. There was a handgrip on each side, with the controls handy to his fingers. By watching the light meter he could change his exposure as the shifting light required.

  He moved ahead of Scotty, panned across the wreck,then reversed the camera to photograph Scotty approaching. On a hunch, he stood well back when Scotty

  approached the underwater entrance and got a picture that was priceless! The grouper had returned to his home, and frightened by the light that suddenly probed his hide-out, he flashed out and caught Scotty by surprise. Scotty dropped his flashlight and back-pedaled frantically. Grinning, Rick kept his camera grinding. Scotty turned and saw that Rick was shooting, and held both hands to his face in mock dismay. Rick cut and secured the camera to an outcropping with its safety line.

  Scotty picked up his light and crawled slowly into the opening. Rick waited, watching anxiously to be sure his friend’s hoses and regulator cleared the entrance. Then Scotty vanished inside. In a moment he reappeared, headfirst, and beckoned.

  Rick followed him in, his own flashlight extended. It was a little murky from the grouper’s hurried departure, but he saw instantly that they were in what had been for those days a large cabin. This must have been the skipper’s quarters. His light picked out the remains of furniture, including one massive chair that was still in good condition.

  Scotty gestured with his light and Rick saw an oaken door. He swam over to it and inspected it closely. It was still firm, still in place. Where did it lead?

  There was only one way to find out. He took hold of the old-fashioned handle and pulled. The door didn’t budge. Rick tried again and failed. He swung himself around and put both feet on the wall next to the door, then applied leverage.

  The handle came completely off. Rick sailed backward across the cabin and his tank

  rang like a bell as it struck something metallic. Scotty hurried to his side, and Rick gestured that he was all right. They turned to inspect the object against which Rick had hurtled and found that it was the still-sound strap for a beam, probably made of wrought iron.

  Rick took his belt slate and wrote, “Whrewldhe hide it?”

  Scotty read it with his light,then shrugged. They began a methodical inspection of the cabin, surprised that it was so clear of marine life. Rick surmised that the opening had developed only recently, perhaps from the shifting of the ship. They found a closet and a heap of what had once been clothes on its floor. Then Scotty made the big discovery of the day. He reached into a shelf space above the bunk, hand exploring, and touched something hard. He drew it out. It looked like a green-covered bundle about a foot long and two inches thick. But before he had a chance to inspect it further, his air gave out and both boys hurried to the surface on their reserves.

  Aboard the Water Witch they shed their equipment and sat down to inspect Scotty’s find.

  The covering proved to be layer after layer of oilcloth, wrapped around the object. The outer layers had deteriorated somewhat, but the inner ones were intact.

  Scotty finished unwrapping and found a
second wrapping of still-dry linen. He pulled the linen off, and both boys gasped. It was a jeweled dagger, with a good-sized ruby winking in its hilt!

  “Take it out of the sheath,” Rick suggested.

  Scotty did so, and disclosed a blade covered with some hard brown substance. “That’s not rust. Got a jackknife?”

  Rick found one and handed it to him. Scotty scraped and was rewarded by the gleam of bright metal.

  “It must have been coated with heavy grease,” Rick remarked. “During the years, the grease hardened into a permanent rustproof coating. Wait until the scientists see this!”

  Scottygrinned his pleasure. “This is one treasure the log didn’t mention. Poor Captain Campion must have thought a lot of it to protect it so thoroughly.”

  “He might have been taking it to theNew World as a gift for some influential friend,”

  Rick ventured. “It looks like Spanish work.”

  Scotty looked at Rick speculatively. “Are you making a claim on this?”

  Rick knitted his brows. What was Scotty driving at? “You found it,” he said.

  “Technically, we’re supposed to share and share alike, the four of us and Barby. But how do you split a dagger? And we wouldn’t sell it, anyway. It’s too nice a souvenir.”

  “I’ll ask Tony and Zircon,” Scotty said, “but if none of you have any objection, I would like to claim it, because I want to give it to Dad for a birthday present next month.”

  Rick punched him on the arm. “You’ll get no objection from me. Or from Tony and Zircon either.”

  “I can buy presents for the family,” Scotty said slowly. “I do, on birthdays and Christmas. But I’ve always wanted to give Dad something really special, something to tell him how I feel about being taken into the family.”

  Rick nodded. He knew how Scotty felt, and he liked him all the better for it. “Let’s get ready for the next dive,” he said abruptly.

  They went through the necessary checks on their equipment, transferring the regulators to the third set of tanks. Rick decided to leave the camera on the boat this time. He was anxious to inspect the ship thoroughly, and photography took time.