by John Blaine
The voices had risen to a screaming crescendo, and they were getting louder.
“What’s the call of Siva?” Rick whispered to Chahda.
“Siva Hindu god.Called ‘The Destroyer.’Not nice. You see.”
Rick fell silent again. The patter of rain on the leaves overhead was a soft undertone to the chanting and the drums. Drops fell on his shoulders and in his hair. Good! It was raining harder!
Overhead, lightning flashed, and the jungle was lit up in blue fire for an instant. Rick saw Scotty’s face beside him, and saw that they were on a thick limb about fifteen feet above the ground. Under them was a well-defined path through the forest growth.
The thunder roared in the wake of the lightning, drowning out the drums. On the heels of the reverberations came the rain, heavy now.
Inland, the drums throbbed louder and the chanting suddenly broke into rising screams and yells.
Scotty stiffened and put a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “They’re coming!”
Ricktensed, the nozzle trigger under his finger. He heard a crashing in the underbrush, coming nearer! And still nearer!
The lightning flashed again, and he had a quick view of wet, brown bodies and gleaming spear points. They were coming . . . they were under him!
His finger squeezed and the hiss of the pressure tank mingled with the raindrops. He moved the nozzle in wide sweeps, spreading the powder wide.
From beside him, spine-chilling in its terrible weird-ness, a long wailing cry quavered, rising and falling in a cadence of terror.
The call of Siva!
CHAPTER XVI
A Two-man Boarding Party
The rushing natives hesitated as Chahda’s weird cry rang through the wet jungle. Then, as the first of them reached the tabu line, the scientists threw power into the ultraviolet lamp.
Even to Rick, who was watching for it, the effect was indescribably ghastly. The jungle lit up. Strange blotches of color like yellow-green fire were everywhere. And the fire dripped from the leaves onto the heads of the natives! Those who had passed directly under Rick were a solid mass of yellow-green from hair to shoulders, and all of them were blotched with the stuff from where wet bodies had brushed against the foliage.
For an instant the natives were silent, shocked into stillness by the thing that had befallen them. Then Chahda’s cry rang out again, followed from below by horrified gasps. From the edge of the jungle a voice babbled in the native language. It rose to a scream of pure fear that lifted the hair on Rick’s head.
The hesitating natives broke and ran as though the dragon god himself had come to life!
They ran in blind terror, crashing into trees, entangling themselves in vines, and as they ran they dropped their spears and clubs. Only when they passed beyond the range of the penetrating ultraviolet did their bodies cease to glow, but behind them the jungle still burned with yellow-green fire.
The boys waited until the last cries had died away toward the south of the island, then Scotty said, “Let’s get out of this. I have an idea.”
As one, they swung off the limb, hung by their hands and dropped to the spongy earth.
They trotted out of the jungle and found the scientists waiting. The ultraviolet lamp had been switched off, but the fluorescent glow was fading slowly. All three of the boys were coated with the powder.
“A fine-looking bunch,” Gordon greeted them happily. “Did you wash in the stuff?”
“That was some performance,” Hartson Brant said, putting his arm around Rick’s shoulder.
“Chahda,” Zircon boomed, “did that awful yell come from you?”
“Pretty good, I think.” Chahda grinned. “I scare myself almost.”
Scotty was waiting impatiently. “Listen,” he said. “It’s now or never! Do you think they saw the fluorescence from the ship?”
“No,” Hartson Brant said. “It’s raining hard and visibility is very poor. Look, you can barely make out the lights aboard.”
“Good,” Scotty said. “But they must have heard the racket. And you know what they’ll be thinking!”
“That we’re all dead,” Rick exclaimed. “Yes! If we could only. . . .”
The others got the idea instantly.
“We can,” Zircon said decisively. “Let’s make our plans, quickly.”
“We’ll need some sort of diversion,” Hartson Brant said thoughtfully. “They’ll all be on deck, probably. If we had some way of making sure they’d all run to one side of the ship. . ..”
“Fire!”Chahda exclaimed.
“Explosion!”Rick said in the same breath.“The gasoline!”
“That’s it,” Gordon said quickly. “We can pour a little gas into the empty tin. By the time we’re ready, it will have vaporized enough to explode.”
“We’ll need a fuse,” Scotty added.
“Sure.” Rick was ready with the answer. “That box of cartridges. We can break them open and lay a powder train. If we put up a tarpaulin, it won’t get wet.
“Who is going?” Scotty asked.
“The best swimmers,” Hartson Brant said. “Rick, Scotty, Zircon, and myself.”
“How about me?”Gordon demanded hotly. “I can make it to the boat.”
“Yes,” Mr. Brant said soothingly, “but you know you’re not as much at ease in the water as the rest of us, John, and we’ll need you here to set off the explosion. Chahda is just learning to swim, so he’s automatically eliminated.”
“Unhappy, yes.”Chahda said sadly.
“Otera is in no condition to swim,” Hartson Brant continued. “Incidentally, boys, he was the one who started the rout. Did you hear him screaming? He yelled that the dragon god was sending green fire to burn them up because the tabu had been broken.”
“I’ll be doggoned,” Rick exclaimed. “Where is he?”
“Back in bed.We let him up just long enough to do his bit. He’s still pretty weak.”
“Keep your voices down,” Zircon cautioned. “I doubt that they can hear us, but why take chances?”
The four swimmers stripped to their shorts, then put their belts back on. Into the belts they tucked steel tent stakes. Then they walked down to the water front and stared out to where the trawler’s lights shone dimly through the rain.
“How long?”Hartson Brant asked.
Scotty estimated the distance. “Twenty minutes will give us plenty of time.”
“I think so, too,” Rick agreed.
Zircon said, “Rick, your watch is waterproof, isn’t it? Mine is, too, and we both have luminous dials. You stick with your father. Scotty will come with me. I suggest we arrive from both sides, just aft of the pilothouse.”
Rick considered. From the looks, the trawler was riding stern to the island, facing into the swell. She wasn’t anchored, because it was too deep out there. Probably Turk was keeping just enough way on her to hold position. There would be one man at the wheel, and he wouldn’t see them if they landed just behind the pilothouse. The explosion would bring the others to the stern, to see what was happening.
Gordon joined them. “I’ve poured just enough gasoline into the empty can to vaporize.
We’ll set both cans off, however. The first will explode and the second one will burn.
How do we time it?”
He checked his watch with Rick’s and Zircon’s.
“All right,” he said. “The second hands aren’t exactly together, so keep close watch.
Rick, you and Hartson will board at fifteen minutes and ten seconds past the hour by your watch.Hobart , it will be fifteen and thirty-two by your watch.”
They shook hands all around. Chahda appeared and said mournfully, “I start practice swimming three hour a day, you bet!”
Rick gave him a strained grin. “You can start tomorrow.”
“We’ll go out in single file,” Hartson Brant said.
The scientist walked into the water. Rick gave him a ten-foot start,then followed.
Behind came Scotty and Zircon.
He thought of the sharks that would certainly be outside the reef. They wouldn’t bother the swimmers. They would stay well away, in fact. He had learned that sharks were cowards. But let one of the swimmersbe wounded . . . the scent of blood would bring the sharks in a ravenous pack.
They neared the reef and he saw the passage, dark between the ends of coral where the sea washed in white foam. His father kept to the middle of the passage and Rick followed, swimming easily. He lifted his head and saw the trawler’s lights more distinctly. She was riding the swell about 300 yards beyond the reef. But unless someone aboard decided to turn on a searchlight, they wouldn’t be seen. He had trouble seeing his father’s dark head only a few feet ahead of him.
When they were well outside the reef, Hartson Brant waited for the others to come up to him. They huddled together, treading water in the swell as the scientist gave them instructions.
“We separate here,” he whispered.“Rick and I to port, Hobart and Scotty to starboard.
Circle wide, in case they have a lookout. Stay in the darkness until the time comes. Then
sprint for the side. Good luck.”
“Good luck,” the others whispered.
Rick followed as his father angled off to the left. After a few minutes he lifted his head and looked for Zircon and Scotty. They were out of sight. He settled down to a long swim.
The route led them away from the trawler, then back toward the lights in a wide circle.
Rick could see the lights winking through the rain, but he could make out no other features. And, with the hiss of the rain striking the water, even the sound of the engines was muffled.
He held his watch close to his eyes and wiped the crystal. It was twelve minutes past the hour. He increased his stroke and came up with his father.
“Three minutes more,” he whispered.
“We’ll start in,” the scientist whispered back. His face was a white blur, but Rick thought that he smiled. “Frightened, son?”
Rick grinned back. “Scared stiff,” he answered, with perfect truth. But he knew from past experience that his fright would vanish in the heat of the fight. Scotty was like that, too. He had always told Rick that the minutes before the battle were the worst.
“Don’t pull your punches,” Mr. Brant warned in a whisper. “We can’t afford to lose. Tap me on the shoulder when we’ve exactly one minute. No more talk.”
He squeezed Rick’s shoulder,then resumed swimming, straight for the side of the trawler. Rick followed, careful not to splash as they neared the ship. He could make out details now: the high bulk of the pilothouse and the rest of the superstructure, the gleam of light on the Submobile. Once he thought he heard voices.
They moved close enough so that Rick could see clearly. The ship was well lit, working lights aft. He could make out figures there, and thought he recognized Turk’s broad shoulders. He started to tread water as Hartson Brant stopped just outside the fan of light from the ship.
He glanced at his watch, counted off the seconds,then tapped his father on the shoulder.
The scientist nodded. Rick loosened the tent stake in his belt a bit.
When he glanced at his watch again, holding it close to his eyes, there were only twenty
seconds remaining. He looked toward the dark shore and counted under his breath. His heart was pounding and nervousness was making him a little short of breath.
An explosion split the night and yellow flame shot high in the air!
Hartson Brant was face down in the water, his arms moving in a powerful crawl before Rick could get started. Then he put his head down and sprinted, going as fast as he could without splashing.
The scientist gained the side of the ship, reached far up and caught hold, then pulledhimself over the side. Rick was right behind him. He dropped to the deck as his father started aft, and then whirled suddenly as some instinct warned him.
The sailor in the pilothouse was looking right at him, his mouth open to yell!
CHAPTER XVII
Recapture of the “Tarpon”
Rick jerked the steel tent stake from his belt and lifted it to throw, but another was there before him. There was a dull thud as a stake crashed down on the sailor’s head, and arms caught him as he fell.
Scotty stepped out of the pilothouse. “Let’s go,” he called softly, already moving.
It had taken only a fraction of a second. Hartson Brant was not yet past the galley door.
Rick and Scotty ran after him, noiseless in their bare feet. As they reached the afterdeck, Zircon came around the other side, a huge, terrible figure of vengeance with tent stake held high.
The enemy was clustered at the after rail, the Sub-mobile shielding the swimmers from them. As the boarders rounded the shining, undersea craft Rick saw Turk Mallane, his back to them, leaning on the rail.
“Looks like the natives got to playing with matches,”
Turk said. He laughed. Then, sensing something, he whirled.
“Not the natives,” Rick said, and his tent stake was already swishing down in a vicious arc. His hand stung as the weapon caught the captain squarely on the forehead. Turk’s
mouth opened and his eyes glazed. He had a look of astonishment on his swarthy face as he slumped to the deck.
Out of the corner of his eye Rick saw one of the sailors go down as his father swung, and saw Zircon’s stake raised over Digger’s head. Then the other sailor was leaping for him. Rick jumped back, but the slippery footing betrayed him. He fell, the sailor on top of him.
The hand with the tent stake was free. Rick reversed ends and pushed upward with all his strength just as a fist caught him behind the ear. The sailor gave a moan and drew away for a second. Rick writhed free and started to swing, but it was not necessary. The sailor was lifted bodily. Hobart Zircon whirled him high overhead,then threw him into the side of the Sub-mobile. He slid in a limp heap to the deck.
Rick jumped to his feet and took in the situation at a glance.
Turk, the two sailors, and Digger Sears were sprawled on the deck. The mate had a cut on his temple, but he was still breathing. Hartson Brant and Hobart Zircon were running to help Scotty who was locked with Hashimo on the deck.
Rick hurried to help, too, his tent stake ready, but Scotty gasped, “Keep out of this!”
The two scientists stopped and Rick tucked the tent stake back into his belt. The Japanese stowaway had thrown Scotty the night they discovered him. Then, during the mutiny, he had acquired Scotty’s beloved rifle, and he had kicked him.
Rick knew that Scotty had been fuming inside, even though his friend hadn’t said much.
Scotty wouldn’t want any help in taking care of the Jap.
The two on the deck were tied up in a knot, and the Jap had Scotty in a punishing hold.
But Scotty gave a sudden heave, bringing his open hand down sharply on the side of his enemy’s neck. Hashimo flinched and Scotty pulled free.
In an instant they were on their feet, crouched low, facing each other. They were bent almost double at the waist, arms hanging loose, slightly bent at the elbows. They circled like two wary cats.
Rick understood, although he had never seen anything like it before. This was judo, “the gentle art,” the most brutal scientific method of fighting in the world.
The Jap lunged suddenly, his face contorted. Scotty’s arm flashed up, and the side of his hand caught Hashimo under the nose. Hashimo shook his head and started to back
up,then with amazing speed he threw his whole body forward, hands outstretched. He caught Scotty, and the weight of his body shifted. Scotty went into the air, arching backward. By some miracle of agility he made a catlike twist and landed on his feet, his k
nees bending for an instant,then they straightened out like steel springs as Scotty jumped forward.
Hashimo sprang to meet the charge, hands ready to break a judo hold. But Scotty surprised him. A fist brushed aside Hashimo’s defense like a battering ram and the other fist described a short arc that ended flush against the broken nose.
The Japanese rocked backward with a cry of pain,then his body curved in mid-air as he jumped feet first. Scotty leaped aside and his hand chopped down. Hashimo crashed to the deck.
Scotty waited until his adversary was on his feet, then he stepped in, swinging.
Hashimo was no mean boxer. He tried hard, and he landed blows on Scotty’s face and body with the side of his open hand, hardened in the Japanese fashion by breaking boards with it. But for every blow he sent home, he took three or four. Both his eyes were black, and his cheek was bleeding. He staggered and his guard dropped. Scotty smashed home a short chop with all of his powerful shoulder behind it. Hashimo’s knees came unhinged. They buckled and he swayed. Then he fell face down on the deck and didn’t stir again.
Rick suddenly realized where they were, and why. “Holy smoke,” he exclaimed,
“there’s no one steering!” He sprinted for the pilothouse just as the sailor Scotty had knocked out began to stir.
There wasn’t time to be merciful. Rick tapped the sailor with his tent stake. The sailor went to sleep again.
The wheel was swinging free. Rick took it, noting that there was still a dim glow from the gasoline fire ashore. He took his bearings on that and straightened the ship out. Then he found the button for the air horn and pushed it, three short blasts and a long one.
V for Victory! Gordon, Chahda, and Otera would hear it and know. He locked the wheel in place,then ran back to see what was going on. The others had cut up lengths of rope and were just finishing tying up the late mutineers.
Seeing that everything was under control, he ran back to the pilothouse. Scotty joined him in a moment, and he was grinning.
“Now I can look Chahda in the face again,” Scotty said with satisfaction.
Rick laughed. “We all can. We took them completely by surprise.”
