by Unknown
"But you'll get it all back, won't you? Aren't there all sorts of Spanish galleons and pirate barques laden with gold supposed to be down there?"
"Undoubtedly," was the calm reply. "But I am not on a treasure hunt, young man. If I find one single sign of former life, I shall be amply rewarded."
Whereupon the young reporter regarded the subject of his interview with fresh admiration, not unmingled with wonder. In his own hectic world, people had no such scorn of gold. Gee, he'd sure like to go along! The professor could have his old statues or whatever he was looking for. As for himself, he'd fill up his pockets with Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight!
Larry was snapped out of his trance by a light knock on the door, which opened to admit a radiant girl in creamy knickers and green cardigan.
"May I come in, daddy?" she inquired, hesitating, as she saw he was not alone.
"You seem to be in already, my dear," the professor told her, rising from his desk and stepping forward.
Then, turning to Larry, who had also risen, he said:
"Mr. Hunter, this is my daughter, Diane, who is also my secretary."
"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Stevens," said Larry, taking her hand.
And he meant it--for almost anyone would have been pleased to meet Diane, with her tawny gold hair, warm olive cheeks and eyes bluer even than her father's and just as twinkling, just as intelligent.
"She will accompany the expedition and take stenographic notes of everything we observe," added her father, to Larry's amazement.
"What?" he declared. "You mean to say that--that--"
"Of course he means to say that I'm going, if that's what you mean to say, Mr. Hunter," Diane assured him. "Can you think of any good reason why I shouldn't go, when girls are flying around the world and everything else?"
Even had Larry been able to think of any good reason, he wouldn't have mentioned it. But as a matter of fact, he had shifted quite abruptly to an entirely different line of thought. Diane, he was thinking--Diana, goddess of the chase, the huntress! And himself, Larry Hunter--the hunter and the huntress!
Gee, but he'd like to go! What an adventure, hunting around together on the bottom of the ocean!
* * * * *
What a wild dream, rather, he concluded when his senses returned. For after all, he was only a reporter, fated to write about other people's adventures, not to participate in them. So he put away his pad and pencil and prepared to leave.
But at the door he paused.
"Oh, yes--one more question. When are you planning to leave, Professor?"
At that, Martin Stevens and his daughter exchanged a swift glance. Then, with a smile, Diane said:
"I see no reason why we shouldn't tell him, daddy."
"But we didn't tell the reporters from the other papers, my dear," protested her father.
"Then suppose we give Mr. Hunter the exclusive story," she said, transferring her smile to Larry now. "It will be what you call a--a scoop. Isn't that it?"
"That's it."
She caught her father's acquiescing nod. "Then here's your scoop, Mr. Hunter. We leave to-night."
To-night! This was indeed a scoop! If he hurried, he could catch the late afternoon editions with it.
"I--I certainly thank you, Miss Stevens!" he exclaimed. "That'll make the front page!"
As he grasped the door-knob, he added, turning to her father:
"And I want to thank you too, Professor--and wish you good luck!"
Then, with a hasty handshake, and a last smile of gratitude for Diane, he flung open the door and departed, unconscious that two young blue eyes followed his broad shoulders wistfully till they disappeared from view.
* * * * *
But Larry was unaware that he had made a favorable impression on Diane. He felt it was the reverse. As he headed toward the subway, that vivid blond goddess of the chase was uppermost in his thoughts.
Soon she'd be off in the Nereid, bound for the mysterious regions under the Sargasso Sea, while in a few moments he'd be in the subway, bound under the prosaic East River for New York.
No--damned if he would!
Suddenly, with a wild inspiration, the young reporter altered his course, dove into the nearest phone booth and got his city editor on the wire.
Scoop? This was just the first installment. He'd get a scoop that would fill a book!
And his city editor tacitly O. K.'d the idea.
With the result that when the Nereid drew away from her wharf that night, on the start of her unparalleled voyage, Larry Hunter was a stowaway.
* * * * *
The place where he had succeeded in secreting himself was a small storeroom far aft, on one of the lower decks. There he huddled in the darkness, while the slow hours wore away, hearing only the low hum of the craft's vacuo-turbine and the flux of water running through her.
From the way she rolled and pitched, he judged she was still proceeding along on the surface.
Having eaten before he came aboard, he felt no hunger, but the close air and the dark quarters brought drowsiness. He slept.
When he awoke it was still dark, of course, but a glance at his luminous wrist-watch told him it was morning now. And the fact that the rolling and pitching had ceased made him believe they were now running submerged.
The urge for breakfast asserting itself, Larry drew a bar of chocolate from his pocket and munched on it. But this was scanty fare for a healthy young six-footer, accustomed to a liberal portion of ham and eggs. Furthermore, the lack of coffee made him realize that he was getting decidedly thirsty. The air, moreover, was getting pretty bad.
"All in all, this hole wasn't exactly intended for a bedroom!" he reflected with a wry smile.
Taking a chance, he opened the door a crack and sat there impatiently, while the interminable minutes ticked off.
The Nereid's turbine was humming now with a high, vibrant note that indicated they must be knocking off the knots at a lively clip. He wondered how far out they were, and how far down.
Lord, there'd be a riot when he showed up! He wanted to wait till they were far enough on their way so it would be too much trouble to turn around and put him ashore.
But by noon his powers of endurance were exhausted. Flinging open the door, he stepped out into the corridor, followed it to a companionway and mounted the ladder to the deck above.
There he was assailed by a familiar and welcome odor--food!
Trailing it to its origin, he came to a pair of swinging doors at the end of a cork-paved passage. Beyond, he saw on peering through, was the mess-room, and there at the table, among a number of uniformed officers, sat Professor Stevens and Diane.
A last moment Larry stood there, looking in on them. Then, drawing a deep breath, he pushed wide the swinging doors and entered with a cheery:
"Good morning, folks! Hope I'm not too late for lunch!"
* * * * *
Varying degrees of surprise greeted this dramatic appearance. The officers stared, Diane gasped, her father leaped to has feet with a cry.
"That reporter! Why--why, what are you doing here, young man?"
"Just representing the press."
Larry tried to make it sound nonchalant but he was finding it difficult to bear up under this barrage of disapproving eyes--particularly two very young, very blue ones.
"So that is the way you reward us for giving you an exclusive story, is it?" Professor Stevens' voice was scathing. "A representative of the press! A stowaway, rather--and as such you will be treated!"
He turned to one of his officers.
"Report to Captain Petersen that we have a stowaway aboard and order him to put about at once."
He turned to another.
"See that Mr. Hunter is taken below and locked up. When we reach New York, he will be handed over to the police."
"But daddy!" protested Diane, as they rose to comply, her eyes softening now. "We shouldn't be too severe with Mr. Hunter. After all, he is probably doing only what his pape
r ordered him to."
* * * * *
Gratefully Larry turned toward his defender. But he couldn't let that pass.
"No, I'm acting only on my own initiative," he said. "No one told me to come."
For he couldn't get his city editor involved, and after all it was his own idea.
"You see!" declared Professor Stevens. "He admits it is his own doing. It is clear he has exceeded his authority, therefore, and deserves no sympathy."
"But can't you let me stay, now that I'm here?" urged Larry. "I know something about boats. I'll serve as a member of the crew--anything."
"Impossible. We have a full complement. You would be more of a hindrance than a help. Besides, I do not care to have the possible results of this expedition blared before the public."
"I'll write nothing you do not approve."
"I have no time to edit your writings, young man. My own, will occupy me sufficiently. So it is useless. You are only wasting your breath--and mine."
He motioned for his officers to carry out his orders.
But before they could move to do so, in strode a lean, middle-aged Norwegian Larry sensed must be Captain Petersen himself, and on his weathered face was an expression of such gravity that it was obvious to everyone something serious had happened.
* * * * *
Ignoring Larry, after one brief look of inquiry that was answered by Professor Stevens, he reported swiftly what he had to say.
While cruising full speed at forty fathoms, with kite-aerial out, their wireless operator had received a radio warning to turn back. Answering on its call-length, he had demanded to know the sender and the reason for the message, but the information had been declined, the warning merely being repeated.
"Was it a land station or a ship at sea?" asked the professor.
"Evidently the latter," was the reply. "By our radio range-finder, we determined the position at approximately latitude 27, longitude 65."
"But that, Captain, is in the very area we are headed for."
"And that, Professor, makes it all the more singular."
"But--well, well! This is indeed peculiar! And I had been on the point of turning back with our impetuous young stowaway. What would you suggest, sir?"
Captain Petersen meditated, while Larry held his breath.
"To turn back," he said at length, in his clear, precise English, "would in my opinion be to give the laugh to someone whose sense of humor is already too well developed."
"Exactly!" agreed Professor Stevens, as Larry relaxed in relief. "Whoever this practical joker is, we will show him he is wasting his talents--even though it means carrying a supernumerary for the rest of the voyage."
"Well spoken!" said the captain. "But as far as that is concerned, I think I can keep Mr. Hunter occupied."
"Then take him, and welcome!"
Whereupon, still elated but now somewhat uneasy, Larry accompanied Captain Petersen from the mess-room; started to, that is. But at a glance of sympathy from Diane, he dared call out:
"Say--hold on, folks! I haven't had lunch yet!"
* * * * *
When young Larry Hunter reported to the captain of the Nereid, after this necessary meal, he found that the craft had returned to the surface.
Assigned a pair of powerful binoculars, he was ordered to stand watch in the conning-tower and survey the horizon in every direction, in an effort to sight the vessel that had sent out that mysterious radio, but though he cast his good brown eyes diligently through those strong lenses, he saw not so much as a smoke tuft upon the broad, gray-blue surface of the hazy Atlantic.
Gradually, however, as the afternoon wore away, something else came in view. Masses of brownish seaweed, supported by small, berry-like bladders, began drifting by. Far apart at first, they began getting more and more dense, till at last, with a thrill, he realized that they were drawing into that strange area known as the Sargasso Sea.
Shortly after this realization dawned, he was ordered below, and as the tropic sun was sinking over that eery floating tombstone, which according to Professor Stevens marked a nation's grave, the Nereid submerged.
Down she slid, a hundred fathoms or more, on a long, even glide that took her deep under that veiling brown blanket.
* * * * *
In the navigating room now, Larry stood with the captain, the professor and Diane, studying an illuminated panel on which appeared a cross of five squares, like a box opened out.
The central square reproduced the scene below, while those to left and right depicted it from port and starboard, and those to front and rear revealed the forward and aft aspects of the panorama, thus affording a clear view in every direction.
This, then, was the television device Professor Stevens had referred to the previous afternoon, its mechanical eyes enabling then to search every square inch of those mysterious depths, as they cruised along.
It was the central square that occupied their attention chiefly, however, as they stood studying the panel. While the others represented merely an unbroken vista of greenish water, this one showed the sea floor as clearly as though they had been peering down into a shallow lagoon through a glass-bottomed boat, though it must have been a quarter of a mile below their cruising level.
A wonderful and fearsome sight it was to Larry: like something seen in a nightmare--a fantastic desert waste of rocks and dunes, with here and there a yawning chasm whose ominous depths their ray failed to penetrate, and now and then a jutting plateau that would appear on the forward square and cause Captain Petersen to elevate their bow sharply.
But more thrilling than this was their first glimpse of a sunken ship--a Spanish galleon, beyond a doubt!
There she lay, grotesquely on her side, half rotted, half buried in the sand, but still discernible. And to Larry's wildly racing imagination, a flood of gold and jewels seemed to pour from her ruined coffers.
* * * * *
Turning to Diane, he saw that her eyes too were flashing with intense excitement.
"Say!" he exclaimed. "Why don't we stop and look her over? There may be a fortune down there!"
Professor Stevens promptly vetoed the suggestion, however.
"I must remind you, young man," he said severely, "that this is not a treasure hunt."
Whereupon Larry subsided; outwardly, at least. But when presently the central square revealed another and then another sunken ship, it was all he could do to contain himself.
Now, suddenly, Diane cried out:
"Oh, daddy, look! There's a modern ship! A--a freighter, isn't it?"
"A collier, I would say," was her father's calm reply. "Rather a large one, too. Cyclops, possibly. She disappeared some years ago, en route from the Barbados to Norfolk. Or possibly it is any one of a dozen other steel vessels that have vanished from these seas in recent times. The area of the Sargasso, my dear, is known as 'The Port of Missing Ships.'"
"But couldn't we drop down and make sure which ship it is?" she pleaded, voicing the very thought Larry had been struggling to suppress.
At the professor's reply, however, he was glad he had kept quiet.
"We could, of course," was his gentle though firm rebuke, "but if we stopped to solve the mystery of every sunken ship we shall probably see during this cruise, we would have time for nothing else. Nevertheless, my dear, you may take a short memorandum of the location and circumstances, in the present instance."
Whereupon he dictated briefly, while Larry devoted his attention once more to the central square.
* * * * *
Suddenly, beyond a dark pit that seemed to reach down into the very bowels of the earth, rose an abrupt plateau--and on one of its nearer elevations, almost directly under then, loomed a monumental four-sided mound.
"Say--hold on!" called Larry. "Look at that, Professor! Isn't that a building of some kind?"
Martin Stevens looked up, glanced skeptically toward the panel. But one glimpse at what that central square revealed, and his skepticism vanished.
"A building?" he cried in triumph. "A building indeed! It is a pyramid, young man!"
"Good Lord!"
"Oh, daddy! Really?"
"Beyond a doubt! And look--there are two other similar structures, only smaller!"
Struggling for calm, he turned to Captain Petersen, who had taken his eyes from the forward square and was peering down as well upon those singular mounds.
"Stop! Descend!" was his exultant command. "This is my proof! We have discovered Antillia!"
* * * * *
Swiftly the Nereid dropped to that submerged plateau.
In five minutes, her keel was resting evenly on the smooth sand beside the largest of the three pyramids.
Professor Stevens then announced that he would make a preliminary investigation of the site at once.
"For, otherwise, I for one would be quite unable to sleep tonight!" declared the graybeard, with a boyish chuckle.
He added that Diane would accompany him.
At this latter announcement, Larry's heart sank. He had hoped against hope that he might be invited along with them.
But once again his champion came to his aid.
"We really ought to let Mr. Hunter come with us, daddy, don't you think?" she urged, noting his disappointment. "After all, it was he who made the discovery."
"Very true," said her father, "but I had not thought it necessary for anyone to accompany us. In the event anyone does, Captain Petersen should have that honor."
But this honor the captain declined.
"If you don't mind, sir, I'd prefer to stay with the ship," he said, quietly. "I haven't forgotten that radio warning."
"But surely you don't think anyone can molest us down here?" scoffed the professor.
"No, but I'd prefer to stay with the ship just the same, sir, if you don't mind."
"Very well"--with a touch of pique. "Then you may come along if you care to, Mr. Hunter."
If he cared to!
"Thanks, Professor!" he said with a grateful look toward Diane. "I'd be keen to!"
* * * * *
So he accompanied them below, where they donned their pressure-suits--rubber affairs rather less cumbersome than ordinary deep-sea diving gear, reinforced with steel wire and provided with thick glass goggles and powerful searchlights, in addition to their vibratory communication apparatus and other devices that were explained to Larry.
