by John Blaine
Then they were at the other end and Van der Klaf -fens hailed them. “No sign of him! Try the outer side, near the reef!”
“Good idea,” Kenwood agreed. “Turn her and let’s go back, skipper.”
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Tom Bishop shouted an order. The Tarpon heeled over and reversed course. Rick ran to the reef side of the ship. They steamed down its length, about a hundred feet off. Out beyond the reef he saw a tiny strip of island, like the atoll at Nanatiki. Then, as they neared the halfway mark, Scotty let out a piercing yell from the bow.
“There it is!”
In a moment Rick saw it, too. The silver shark was lying on the bottom, nestling against the reef.
Tom Bishop scratched his head. “It’s bigger than I thought. But the net will hold it all right.If we can get the net under it.”
Jack Pualani tossed over a small package of marker dye. Instantly a yellow stain spread on the water, right over the silver shark.
The Tarpon reversed course again, on Kenwood’s advice. “Easier to pick her up from the stern,” he said. “The tail is high enough so the net can get under.”
Seamen stood by an otter trawl, a big V-shaped net with a mouth spread of over sixty feet, designed to stay on the bottom. Off theNew England coast, such nets were used to catch flounders and other bottom feeders. But Rick doubted if any otter trawl had ever been put to a use like this.
When the Tarpon was in position to come up behind the shark, Tom Bishop shouted, “Full ahead!” The trawler leaped ahead. “Over with the net!” The trawl splashed into the water.
The wake of the ship caught the big net. The door boards spread it wide. It dipped toward the bottom and the heavy tow ropes tightened. Then he saw Scotty step from the cabin, and in his hand was a harpoon, brought along for a possible catch of swordfish. The boy walked to the side and looked over.
“Coming up on it!”Tom Bishop yelled. “Stand by the net!”
Yellow dye was around them now. The net caught and the Tarpon shuddered. The tow lines strummed taut. Scotty gave a triumphant yell.“In the net!”
“Haul!” Tom Bishop shouted.
Rick ran to the stern, Chahda, Barby, Dr. and Mrs. Warren, and the others beside him. The winch roared and the ropes creaked with the strain. But the net was coming in.
“Full ahead!”Tom Bishop bellowed.
The Tarpon had to keep moving, to keep the net from being tangled in the screws. Slowly the big net came up, and in itgleamed the aluminum shark.
It broke water, and in that instant a hatch on its top opened. The half-caste thrust the upper part of his body through, and the pistol in his hand covered the group on deck.
Scotty’s arm rocked back and flashed forward, and as he threw the harpoon, he gave it a slight twist. It flashed through the air, slanting sideways. The heavy shaft smashed into Nondo’s shoulder and dropped into the water.
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Scotty started to climb over the rail. Tom Bishop yelled, “Stop the engines!” Rick stepped back, took a running jump and flashed over the rail in a perfect dive.
He knifed into the water right next to the net. A few strokes brought him into it. Scotty climbed to the rail and jumped after him. Then Jack, Kenwood, Jer-rold , and Carl Ackerman were in the water, too.
Rick reached Nondo first. He brushed off a powerful swing as though it were a mosquito. He took the half-caste by the throat and gave a mighty heave. Nondo came out of the Shark, his feet dangling.
Scotty struggled to reach them through the tangling mass of the net. He edged through the net to Rick’s side.
Rick turned and grinned, but he didn’t let go of Nondo. “I’m just educating this bird a little.”
Nondo’s head dropped limply on his shoulders. “Better wait until he comes to,” Scotty said. “He’s in no condition to learn anything.”
“Hang on,” Jack Pualani called.
The two ropes tightened, lifting the net almost out of the water. Carl Ackerman and Kenwood took Nondo and passed him to the deck. Jack pushed to Scotty’s side and they joined Rick. They all were consumed with curiosity to have a look at the Shark resting quietly and innocently in thetrawler’s net.
CHAPTER XX
The Secret of the Lagoon
Scotty accepted another helping of rosette saute from the governor’s houseboy. The Warrens, Barby, Rick, Scotty, Chahda, Van der Klaffens, Jerrold, the governor, the scientists, and the American Consul were dining in state at the governor’s palace in the cool of the evening. Everyone was in a relaxed mood after the events of a strenuous day. Two of the guests bore slight evidence of physical damage that had been inflicted during the course of the day, but they seemed none the worse for wear. Barby was the only one who seemed inclined to be a bit resentful over the passive part she had played in the day’s exciting events. But her frequent reproachful glances in her brother’s direction could not conceal a certain look of smugness that she wore.
Rick had been waiting for the conversation to get back to the subject of the Phantom Shark. He turned to the governor.
“Now that Nondo is in jail for robbery, is anything going to be done about his charges that Mr.
Kenwood and Mr. Van der Klaffens are the Phantom Shark and that he was working for them? After all-“
Jerrold interrupted quickly. “Is that any of our business, young man? The governor,” he nodded to the Frenchman sitting at the head of the table, “seems to feel that the so-called Phantom Shark has committed no crime. I have my pearls back safe and sound, and-“
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“Yes, you have your pearls back-such as they are,” Barby broke in. Everybody looked at the American girl questioningly. Then Scotty remarked:
“There are some explanations due, it seems to me, from the men who operated as the Phantom Shark.
Isn’t anyone curious besides me?”
“Burning like firecracker with much curiosity,” Chahda said.
“So am I,” Jack Pualani agreed. “I want to know about that incident inHonolulu .”
Big Tom Bishop added, “And I want to know why all this running around in dark clothes and masks and stuff? With a lagoon full of pearls, you could sell in the open market.”
Rick looked at Kenwood. The lanky Australian frowned. Even though the identity of the Phantom Shark was known, he evidently didn’t want to divulge too much concerning his activities. There was still a mystery here, he thought.
Barby gave Rick an elaborate wink. He stared at her. She had a pleased, little-girl look that indicated plainly that she, Barbara Brant, had a secret. Then he remembered how mysterious she had been aboard ship.
“Rick,” she suggested, “you’ve guessed a lot about the Phantom Shark’s activities. Tell Mr. Kenwood and Mr. Van der Klaffens how much you’ve guessed. They don’t have to admit anything, of course.”
Rick took a sip of water, stalling for a moment to sum up in his mind just how much he did know-or thought he knew.
“Well,” he said finally, “putting together all the pieces, it seemed to me we had never heard any specific details of the Phantom Shark’s crimes except from two people.Mr. Kenwood and Mr. Van der Klaffens.”
“But Barthelemi had a lot to say,” Scotty objected, “and when we asked the hotel proprietor, he was scared stiff.”
“I know. I think Mr. Kenwood and Mr. Van der Klaffens started all the talk, deliberately building up a legend of a terrible, mysterious criminal. You know how stories like that spread.”
“Amazing deduction,” Kenwood said. “Go on.”
“Am I right so far?” When Kenwood and Van der Klaffens only smiled, Rick went on, “Anyway, with a legend like that built up, word was sure to get around, particularly to tourists, about the man who sold wonderful pearls at a low price. Men like Jerrold would be a sucker for a sale. They’d rather get a bargain by buying stolen goods than to pay a slightly higher legal price. Only I still don’t know why, with a lagoon like Nanatiki, the pearls couldn’t be sold in a legitimate market.”
“I do,” Barby said.
Dr. Warren nodded. “She does. And so doI . But I must admit it was Barby’s quick mind that grasped the possibilities, and she was the one with courage enough to risk losing us a lot of money.”
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Rick, Scotty, Chahda, and the others looked at Barby. She blushed with pleasure. Then she reached into her handbag and brought out a pillbox. She opened it and turned it over on the tablecloth. One half of a pearl fell out!
“So you really do know,” Kenwood exclaimed. “Well, that does it.”
Rick still didn’t know. “What does half a pearl mean?” he asked. “And why was it cut in half?”
“There were too many pearls in the lagoon,” Dr. Warren said. “But that’s Barby’s story. I’d better let her tell it.”
Bill Duncan suddenly laughed. “I get it now!”
Rick didn’t.
“So doI !” Carl Ackerman exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of it? They’re cultivated pearls! They’re not real at all!”
Mrs. Warren gasped. “Not real? Why of course they are!”
Jerrold jumped to his feet. “What do you mean the Phantom Shark’s pearls aren’t real?” he roared.
Van der Klaffens sighed. “There goes our secret.”
“So it seems.” The Aussie grinned.“Just our luck to run up against a gang of smart Yanks.” He turned to Jerrold. “Your money will be refunded,” he said coldly.
“But what I want to know is, how did you ever figure out they were cultivated?”
That was Barby’s story. “It was my book, Daughter of the Moon. It’s all about pearls, and it said they were so valuable because they were rare as well as beautiful.
Then it went on to say that the value of pearls has gone ‘way down, becausea Japanese named Mikimoto, or something like that, discovered how to grow pearls. It said he harvested enough pearls every year to break the market completely and make them cheaper than sand, if he sold all of them.”
“Very true,” Carl Ackerman said. “Natural pearls are an accident. But pearls can be cultivated.”
“But the cultivated ones are not as good!” Mrs. Warren objected.
“A popular belief without much basis in truth,” Van der Klaffens corrected. “Had it been true, the Phantom Shark would scarcely have made a living. The fact is, a pearl is a pearl. It is nothing more than layers of nacre.Whether the layers of nacre form around a grain of sand that got into the shell by chance, or around a tiny button of mother-of-pearl placed there deliberately, is quite immaterial.”
“Correct,” Kenwood said. “If the pearl is removed too soon, the little ball of shell, or mother-of-pearl, may be close enough to the surface to spoil the luster. But let the pearl grow, with layer after layer of nacre, and even an expert who does not know the origin of the pearl cannot tell whether it is natural or cultivated.”
Rick had read of cultivated pearls. The oyster was taken from the water when very young and small.
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They were called “sprats” at that stage. Then the shell was opened, and a tiny grain of material inserted, after which the oyster was put back in the water to grow to maturity-and perhaps to grow a pearl around the artificial irritant.
“Must be someone able to tell if pearl is real,” Chahda said.
“Not real-natural,” Van der Klaffens corrected. “All pearls, if they come from oysters, are real. They may be either natural or cultivated. However, there is one man who can tell, and only one. That is the man who drills the pearl so it can be threaded in a necklace.”
“Why can he tell?” Scotty asked.
“Because in a natural pearl, the irritant is so tiny it can hardly be seen.It is like a wisp of dust in one’s eye.Small, but most irritating. Where our eye would water, the oyster produces nacre which hardens into the material of pearl. Thus, when the driller goes into the center of a real pearl, he usually finds nothing.
When he goes into the center of a cultivated one, he finds the artificial irritant. If he says nothing-and what driller would, since it is not his business to question-no one else will ever know.”
And that, Rick thought, was the Phantom Shark’s greatest secret. The Dutchman and the Aussie had been selling cultivated pearls as real ones, and, because they had built up the myth that the Phantom Shark was a real pearl pirate, getting the high price of real pearls for them! There was a moment of silence. Jerrold was examining Barby’s half pearl through a pocket magnifying glass. There was a dazed look in his eyes.
“How did you dare to cut a pearl?” Van der Klaffens asked. “Suppose you had been wrong, my dear?
You would have destroyed a small fortune!”
“We thought about it,” Barby told him. “I was really frightened. But I was sure, too, sort of. So Dr.
Warren and I made a pact not to tell anyone, and we put the pearl in a vise and filed it down. And we found a little piece of shell in the middle.”
“And I was thinking I had found the best pearl bed in the world,” Jack Pualani groaned.
“You’re right,” Kenwood said. “It is. The Japanese beds are fairly shallow, and they use a different kind of oyster. Ours are as close to nature as you can get them, and we haven’t been greedy. Van and I seeded the bed several years ago, and we’ve hardly touched it.”
Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Even though you haven’t murdered people, or robbed divers, it seems to me you are guilty just the same. You’ve been selling cultivated pearls for real ones, and that is most certainly larceny of some sort.”
Van der Klaffens answered her. “You are right, Mrs. Warren. We have only one excuse. We have sold our pearls to unscrupulous men who were more than willing to buy what they thought were stolen goods.
Take our friend Jerrold, here, as an example. He bought our pearls, and from the stories he heard, stories which we spread with the help of our Kanaka employees and the natives of Laguerre, he surely believed he was buying real pearls stained with the blood of murdered divers. Yet he bought them. The legend we built up was merely to convince such men that our pearls were real.”
Kenwood broke in. “You Americans have a word for it. You call such a bloke a ‘man with larceny in his soul.’ At first we planned a legitimate cultivated pearl business. We were both divers in our younger days, and we went down in the lagoon in suits and planted our bed. Then, a rich Australian approached Page 102
me and asked did I know where he could get pearls, and he hinted he wouldn’t mind getting some illegal ones at a lower price. I turned him down, but the idea stuck. Then, after the war, I got the idea for the Shark, simply as a means of harvesting the bed more easily than a suit diver could do it. And one thing led to another, you might say.”
“Who cut our cables?” Tom Bishop asked abruptly.
“Nondo,” Kenwood replied.“At our suggestion, to be sure. Jerrold was hot after enough pearls to finish his necklace, and it meant a fortune for us. But we had to delay you a bit, because I couldn’t afford to have you buzzing around Nanatiki while I was collecting pearls. Van told Nondo to slip below and steal your engine injectors, knowing you probably wouldn’t have more than a single spare. We planned to have the injectors found later, by accident. But Nondo got a real bright idea and cut the cables with a cutter out of your own tool chest. Then he fixed it with two of his pals to be in the way when you backed out.”
“But those men might have been killed!” exclaimed Rick.
Kenwood shrugged.
“He was too smart for his own good,” Van der Klaffens said.“And for ours. But for him, the Phantom Shark would still be the mythical terror of theSouth Seas .”
“Why did he jump me that night at Anse Vata ?” Rick asked.
The Dutchman shrugged. “I think your guess was right about him planning to rob Jerrold. And I also think, from what you have told me, that he thought you had seen his face. He knew you and I were friendly, and possibly he feared you would mention it to me, as you had told me of his presence on the do
ck-which I knew about, of course. So, in a moment of panic, he attacked you.”
“My guess, too,” Kenwood agreed. “Nondo is mighty smart, but he gets flustered easily.”
Jack Pualani spoke up. “Mind telling me about theHonolulu affair?”
“Nothing much to it,” Kenwood said. “I got in touch with the man by bribing a servant at the hotel to leave the note. Then, on the morning of the day he was supposed to trade his money for the pearls, I went out in the Shark and anchored the can. I had fixed it in the claws so all I had to do was drop it. The can floated and the lump of coral I used for an anchor sank. Then I watched from the Kookaburra until I saw him make the trade, and afterward I got in the Shark, went out and surfaced just long enough to scoop up the can. The rope sheared easily in the claws.” He grinned. “I didn’t mind him watching me through the glasses. It was good advertising.”
Now that the partners had opened up, there were other questions.
Kenwood explained about the trip to Nanatiki. He had put intoVila to drop a passenger, then he had run directly to the atoll in his fast schooner with the Shark aboard, arriving only a few hours before the Tarpon showed up. He had harvested pearls for four days, then had sailed toEspiritu Santo and handed the crop to an interisland plane pilot who delivered them to Van der Klaffens.
The Dutchman admitted their fright when Rick told them of Jerrold’s disappearance. Van der Klaffens hadn’t even waited for Kenwood. He had gone to the house, then, not finding him there, he had jumped into his car and driven to the Laguerre hide-out where Nondo usually stayed. Both men had suspected Page 103
Nondo at once. They had long ago suspected he might be overly ambitious.
“What you do now?” Chahda inquired.
At this point Jerrold slowly got to his feet. His face had a beaten look, the look of a child who learns for the first time that there is no Santa Claus. “I’ll tell you what they’re going to do,” he said. “First of all, they are going to give back every cent I paid ‘em for their ten-cent-store trash. Then I’m going to hound these two slimy crooks from theSouth Seas if it takes me the rest of my life to do it.” The man’s face was getting redder and redder, as his anger mounted. “I can’t expect to get any co-operation from these two-for-a-nickel French- ies.” He pointed with a trembling forefinger at the governor. “But there’s no room out here for thieves. I’m an American citizen and I know my rights-“
