by John Blaine
I’ve had mine.”
Rick saw that a breakfast tray was on a bedside table. He had slept through Scotty’s arising, shower, and delivery of breakfast. He shook his head, still groggy-A quick shower woke him up. He sipped coffee and ate toast while getting into his clothes, then the two hurried down the corridor of the luxury hotel to the conference room Hartson Brant had taken over as headquarters.
The scientists were already there, taking seats around the room as the boys walked in.
Rick looked at the new faces. It was the first time he had seen them in daylight. Dr. Jeffrey Williams was a plump, round-faced man with a shock of pure-white hair. Dr. David Riddle was tall, dark, lean, and heavily tanned. He looked like a mining engineer, or perhaps a forest ranger. Bradley Connel was short, heavy set, with straw-colored hair and the kind of complexion that is always sunburned and peeling so long as the days are hot-which meant always, this close to the equator.
“Let’s get to work,” Hartson Brant said. “It’s obvious that visual inspection is not going to tell us much.
We’ll have to get tracings before we have any real idea of what’s going on under us. Dave, have you found anything of importance?”
David Riddle shook his head. “It’s a typical formation.Nothing unusual about it at all. El Viejo is simply a dead volcano, its cone filled in, and plenty of jungle on the slopes. Thehot springs are just a seepage point, as Dr. Balgos knows. So far as I can tell, they’re the weakest point, so if the mountain lets go, that is where the blowoff will come. Of course, this could be wrong and there may be weaker channels we don’t suspect. We’ll know when we start shooting.”
Hartson Brant looked at Dr. Williams.“Anything to add, Jeff?”
“Not much. I’ve gone over the seismic data Esteben got from the seismologists in the area, and it’s clear that the epicenter of most recent earthquakes in the area is right under us. Something is happening down in the earth under the mountain, but I can’t say what it is. It may be volcanism or it may be a fault shifting.”
Rick knew that a fault was like a great crack in the earth’s structure, but he had thought the scientists had agreed that the earthquakes were caused by volcanic action. He asked, “Sir,doesn’t the change in the springs mean something?”
“Perhaps, Rick,” Dr. Williams answered. “We don’t really know. Dr. Balgos thinks they mean a great deal, and I have respect for his opinions. But I’m only a seismologist. I have to depend on traces from earthquakes, and the traces tell us nothing but the single fact that something is going on far below.”
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Hartson Brant nodded. “The answer will depend on more data, so today we’ll start to collect it. Rick and Scotty brought apparatus, and the governor has supplied us with dynamite and two experienced helpers, Ruiz and Honorario.”
“How do we split up?” Julius Weiss asked.
“Into firing and recording teams.Since we have only two recorders, we can have only two teams for data collection. But we can have three firing parties. Dave Riddle will work with Honorario, Brad Connel with Ruiz, and Hobart Zircon with Rick and Scotty. Julius, you and I will form one recording party, and Esteben and Jeff will form the other. Each team will have a jeep. Now, if you’ll all gather around this model the boys made, we’ll pick approximate locations for stations.”
The boys had brought the model with them. Now the group gathered around and discussed the best locations for both firing and recording parties.
Dave Riddle was assigned a station on the slope of El Viejo near the town ofRedondo on the north end of the island. Brad Connel was given a location on the northwestern slope, and Zircon and the boys were shown a position on the west near the place where pumice, a foamy volcanic rock, was mined. Hartson Brant and Julius Weiss were to place one recording station on the eastern slope of the mountain, while Dr. Williams and Dr. Balgos were assigned a station on the northern coast.
Hartson Brant handed a wrist chronometer to each team leader. Each team was also to have a transit, with which to take bearings for the purpose of locating the stations with precision.
“The hotel restaurant has packed lunches for us,” Hartson Brant stated. “If we get under way at once, we can start shooting atone o’clock . Let’s try for three shots each this afternoon. Each firing team will move one mile in a clockwise direction between shots, and we’ll need to space the shots fifteen minutes apart.Hobart , you’ll start shooting at1:00 , Brad at1:15 , Dave at1:30 . At2:00 , we’ll start the cycle over again. That should bring us all back to the hotel by suppertime.”
Big Hobart Zircon clapped the boys on the shoulder. “Let’s get going. Scotty, you pick up our lunches.
Rick, we’ll load equipment.”
The five jeeps were lined up outside. Rick carried out atransit, the tripod slung over his shoulder, and found the two local helpers waiting. Ruiz was a short, swarthy man with gleaming white teeth and a Mexican-style sombrero. Honorario was only slightly taller, and so thin a strong breeze would blow him away. The two San Luzians greeted him courteously. “Buenos dias , senor.”
Rick knew enough Spanish to be equally polite. “Buenos dias , senores. Como estdn ustedes ?”
The two switched to English. Rick hoped it wasn’t a reflection on his Spanish accent, acquired atWhitesideHigh School the year before. “We are well, senor,” Ruiz answered, and Honorario added,
“We hope you will enjoy San Luz, senor.”
Rick said that he expected to enjoy it very much indeed. He wondered if the two knew that their mountain was getting ready to blow its top. He asked, “Do you have the dynamite, amigos?”
“In the shed, senor.Also the caps and the detonators.If you will come, I will show you.” Ruiz gestured toward a concrete shed that stood some distance away.
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“What was the shed used for?” Rick asked as they walked toward it.
“It is a shed for a pump, senor. The pump is for the hotel’s water, which must be brought up the hill from Calor.”
In a moment Rick saw for himself. The pump was operating noisily. Along one wall were shelves, one of which contained two cases of dynamite and boxes of caps. On another shelf were three detonators. He selected one,then picked out six sticks of dynamite. He handled the stuff gingerly, even though he knew it was safe as so much soap. Dynamite, for all its explosive power, is stable stuff, and difficult to set off by accident.
The dynamite caps were much less safe, however. Each was packed carefully in its own protective wrapping, but Rick took no chances. He put each one in a different pocket. Then, feeling like a keg of gunpowder with a sputtering fuse, he walked back to the jeep.
Hobart Zircon and Scotty came out of the hotel as he approached.
“Stand back,” Rick said grimly. “I may go off like the Black Tom explosion if you touch me.”
Big Hobart Zircon chuckled. “Don’t worry, Rick. If you do, we’ll go off with you. Would it make you happier if I carried the explosives?”
Rick considered. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “If the stuff goes off, we’ll all go into orbit at the same time and the jeep will go with us. Let’s go.”
Scotty looked at him curiously. “Where are the caps?”
Rick patted his pockets one at a time.“One in each breast pocket and one in my watch pocket. Don’t push me around, buddy. I’m loaded.”
Scotty grinned. “I’ll keep my distance.”
The rest of the party was loading jeeps now, too. Scotty hoisted the equipment and lunches into the back of the jeep and got in with them. Rick climbed gingerly into the front passenger seat and Zircon got ready to drive. He handed Rick a map. “You navigate. Our first destination is marked with a cross. We start out on the road leading west from the hotel. That will take us to the pumice works.”
“Okay,” Rick began, but he never finished. The jeep began to rock under him. For an insane instant he thought it must have a perfectly silent motor,then he realized Zircon had not yet turned on the ignition sw
itch. Sudden dizziness made him clutch at the seat, and instinctively he clapped an arm across his chest to protect the dynamite caps.
He was vaguely conscious of yells from around him, and he struggled to sit up straight. His stomach was churning and he felt nauseated. Zircon let out a bellow like a wounded steer.
From inside the hotel Rick heard the sudden crash of shattering glass and gripped the jeep seat tighter with his free hand.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over. He straightened up, dizzy. “ Wh-what happened?” he asked shakily.
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He heard Dr. Balgos.“A warning, my friends.The most serious one yet.” He pointed up to where thepeakofEl Viejo loomed. “The Old One must be working faster than I thought.”
“But what was it?” Rick asked again and at the same time was afraid that he knew.
“Earthquake,” Zircon boomed. He pointed.
Rick stared. In a zigzag line across the hotel parking lot was a fissure, one that hadn’t been there a minute before. The concrete gaped in widths varying from a crack to a few inches.
The earth had opened up!
CHAPTER III
Firing Parties
It was a shaken group of scientists that moved off in their jeeps to the preselected stations. Most of the adults had experienced earthquakes before, but none had seen the earth split almost at their feet. To Rick, the sensation had been as upsetting as any he had ever experienced.
“The one thing we learn to depend on,” Zircon said, “is that the earth under our feet is solid and dependable. When it shakes like a jelly, it causes a kind of emotional shock, apart from any physical damage it may do.”
“It certainly did with me,” Rick agreed.
“Ditto,” Scotty added.
Zircon put the jeep in gear and moved away from the hotel. He drove slowly over the narrow part of the crack in the parking lot,then picked up speed. Rick looked around. Bradley Connel and Ruiz were following in their own vehicle.
Zircon took a blacktop road to the west, close to the base of the mountain. Fortunately for Rick’s peace of mind, the road was fairly smooth. He had never carried dynamite caps before, but he knew they contained fulminate of mercury, which is one of the most unstable and violent chemical substances, pound for pound, ever created.
The big scientist sensed his uneasiness. “Relax, Rick. Those caps won’t go off without a substantial knock against something. Enjoy the scenery.”
Rick grinned. “I’ll try.”
The scenery was tropical. Once away from the hotel grounds, there was heavy growth, vines, creepers, and broad-leafed plants.He saw palmetto and wild banana interspersed with Judas palms and other typical vegetation. The growth clung to the side of El Viejo like a thick green carpet. Now and then the jeep passed an open space in the vegetation and he saw the plains stretching away to the sea on his left.
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The jeep climbed gradually and Rick realized that their direction had changed. They were now heading on the more northerly course. The vegetation was thinner, too, and he guessed it was because they were higher up the mountainside. At a rough estimate, the jeep had climbed nearly a thousand feet.
“Pumice quarry ahead,” Zircon announced.
Rick saw ramshackle wooden buildings, then piles of grayish rock. A hundred yards farther onhe saw an open pit. This was where the San Luzians mined pumice for export.
“Is there much of a market for it?” Scotty asked.
“Not as much as there was years ago,” Zircon replied. “Pumice, as you probably know, is volcanic rock.But not an ordinary one. It’s a kind of foamy lava honeycombed with gas bubbles. It’s used as an abrasive. Modern industrial products have replaced it in general use, but apparently there’s still enough demand so that the San Luzians are able to export a little. Our firing station is about a mile from here.”
Rick looked at the rough terrain. “Think we can get through?”
“Easily.According to the map, we have an un-paved road part of the way.”
The unpaved road turned out to be a pair of wagon tracks. But at least there were no trees in the way.
Rick held on tight as Zircon shifted into four-wheel drive and forged ahead.
The big scientist kept an eye on his odometer, or mileage counter, while the boys watched for a clearing.
It was slightly over a mile before they found one, and Zircon pulled off the road to let Brad Connel and Ruiz go by.
The jeep stopped as the two came abreast and the geologist called, “Want to trade stations?”
“We like this one,” Zircon replied with a grin.
“Don’t blame you. I have another three miles through this stuff. Well, so long.”
The jeep started off and was soon lost as the path curved slightly.
Zircon looked at his watch. “Plenty of time, but we might as well get ready.”
A few minutes search disclosed a spot far enough away from the clearing for safety, with no trees to be uprooted by the blast. Zircon took two of the dynamite sticks Rick carried and one of the caps. He placed the cap over one stick and used a special tool, like a jar opener, to crimp it into place.
“This is the only really delicate part of the operation,” he said. “If the crimpers slip, they could set off the cap and the dynamite. So be careful when you do it. Keep the crimpers low on the flange of the cap.”
He found a rubber band in his pocket and used it to hold the two sticks together. A coil of wire was produced next, and the connection made to the dynamite cap. Zircon dug a shallow hole with his heel and put the dynamite sticks in, then backed off unwinding wire as he went.
The detonator had been left in the jeep. Rick got it and carried it to where Zircon waited with the pair of wires.
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“How does this thing work?” Scotty asked.
“It’s a dynamo,” Zircon replied. “When the handle is pushed down it engages gears that spin a flywheel, which operates the dynamo long enough to send an electrical charge through the wires.”
“So don’t sit on the handle,” Rick joked.
“And don’t kick it,” Scotty added.
Zircon connected the wires to a pair of terminals on top of the detonator,then looked at his watch.
“Plenty of time. We might as well take it easy.Anyone hungry?”
No one was. It was too soon after breakfast. Instead, Rick took the opportunity to ask questions.
“I can understand the general principle of what we’re doing, but can you tell us exactly what happens?”
“Sure. When the dynamite charge goes off, it sends shock waves through the earth in all directions.
Whenever a shock wave strikes something of different density, its direction and velocity change. For instance, if there is denser rock a few hundred feet down, that will cause a change of both velocity and direction.With me so far?”
“I think so,” Scotty said. “The denser the stuff the wave strikes, the faster it moves. Like sound waves. I mean, sound moves faster in water than in air, and faster in a steel rail than in water. Is it the same?”
“Just about,” Zircon agreed. “The shock waves radiate away from us, through the earth, and eventually reach the recorders on the other side of the mountain. You can see what happens, I think. Waves will arrive at different times, depending on the path they took and the kind of material they went through.”
Rick nodded. “So if there’s molten rock, or magma somewhere in the way, the shock wave that goes through it will slow down and arrive at the recorder later?”
“That’s it. The tracings we get can be analyzed to give us a kind of cross-sectional look at the mountain.
You see, we know how fast the waves travel through different kinds of earth structure. Also, we will know the point of the explosion and the location of the recorder for each shot.Which reminds me. We’d better get out the equipment and locate ourselves precisely.”
“How?”Rick asked. “What will we use for landmarks?”
“The top of the mountain, for one, and if you’ll look carefully to a point slightly south of east between those two banana palms, you’ll see the top of the control tower at the airport.”
Rick shook his head. “Good thing you’re with us. I completely forgot to watch for landmarks.”
“That was the first thing I had in mind in looking for a spot,” Zircon told him.
The transit gave a precise angle between the two landmarks. Zircon drew a line on the map connecting the southern tip of the mountain and the airport tower. Then, with that as his base line, it was easy to draw two lines at the correct angles from each of the points. The transit’s position was where the two lines intersected.
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By the time the scientist had finished, it was nearlyone o’clock . The three walked to the detonator. “Pull the handle up,” Zircon directed. Rick did so. “I’ll count down from ten seconds. Push down on zero.”
It was like the countdown for a rocket firing, Rick thought. Zircon called out the time starting at one minute, then called off the last ten seconds. As he reached zero, Rick pushed the handle home.
The dynamite went off with a roar that sent leaves and dirt flying, and Rick felt the shock wave slam against his ears with stunning force.
“Open your mouth next time,” Zircon said. “I forgot to warn you.” He was already reeling in the wire.
“Let’s get going.One mile farther on for the next shot.”
At the next station the same procedure was repeated, but before it was time, there was a far-off explosion. Zircon looked at his watch. “Brad Connel.Right on time.” In another fifteen minutes there was an even more distant sound as David Riddle’s first shot went off. They ate their lunch and listened to the echo off the mountain.
Zircon and the boys were ready when their time came. Location this time had been made on sightings toward the mountain, and a flagpole at Cape San Souci on the western side of the island.
The road petered out and they were forced to go cross-country to reach the third shot station.
Fortunately, Brad Connel had left a path of crushed vegetation, so it was only necessary to follow where he had led.
