Another manta was examining the boat with great interest. It gave it a crack with one of its powerful armlike fins. If it had struck hard enough it could have smashed the boat. As it was it splintered the top strake on the port side but fortunately the plank was above the waterline and no leak resulted. Then it circled the boat and ran into the net.
‘We’ve got him!’ cried Hal. ‘If he doesn’t back out,’ said Roger. ‘I think they’re just one-way fish. They can’t back.’ Certainly the manta was not attempting to go backwards but was trying to bore its way straight through the obstruction. It managed to get one arm through, and then the other. It turned on edge and its tail slipped through the meshes. Once in, it did not come out easily since the tail was covered with sharp spikes that acted as fish-hooks.
‘Row!’ shouted Hal, and two pairs of oars and a paddle propelled the boat forward and in towards the ship. Thus the net began to close in on the giant ray.
But it was not one to surrender easily. It threshed about violently, churning the sea into whirlpools and sending up geysers of water that promptly soaked the three boatmen. The boat began to settle under the gallons of water that were splashed into it
It was lucky that the line from the net had been made fast to the mooring bitt, for no man or men could have held it. The tugs on the line jerked the boat here and there, many times nearly upsetting it.
But now the boat was under the counter of the schooner. The captain was leaning over the rail, his eyes popping.
‘Quick! Throw me the line.’
Hal pulled the line free of the bitts and heaved it to the captain who caught it deftly and ran to make it fast to the capstan.
Now both ends of the net were secured to the capstan. The sea giant was in a pocket from which there was little chance of escape.
Crab was swinging out the cargo boom. It was hinged to the mainmast and from its seaward end hung a great hook. Hal meshed the hook in the net.
The schooner’s engine began to whirr and the net with its writhing contents started upward.
A cheer broke from the boys in the dinghy. But they cheered too soon. In a convulsive struggle the manta flailed out with arms, wing ends, and tail. One of these flying appendages caught the boat amidships and stove it in as ft it had been an eggshell.
The boys found themselves in the water and made all haste to swim clear of the churning devilfish. The captain threw out a line and Hal and Roger climbed on board.
They looked back to see that Omo had been struck by the monster’s razor-edged tail and was lying in the water, stunned and bleeding. Sharks,, instantly attracted by blood, were closing in on him.
Hal drew his knife and was about to leap back into the sea when the captain said, ‘Don’t do it. You wouldn’t have a chance,’ and Crab growled, ‘Let him sink. He’s only a kanaka anyhow.’
It was all Hal needed. Boiling with rage over Crab’s callous words, he dived into the blood-tinged sea, not forgetting to take the end of the captain’s line with him. This he looped around Omo’s chest, meanwhile keeping up a lively splashing and making passes at inquisitive sharks with his knife.
Omo was hauled aboard. Hal fended off sharks until the line came again. Then he lost no time gaining the safety of the deck.
Omo came to life just enough to open one eye and say, ‘Thanks!’ Then he closed his eye and submitted in silence while Hal dressed the painful wound.
‘There goes a good dinghy,’ said Captain Ike ruefully, looking at the splinters floating about in the foam whipped up by the whirling mass of fury in the net. ‘Hoist away!’ he cried, and up, up, went the struggling sea bat. Its teeth and spines cut the net in a dozen places. But the net was made of inch-thick hemp cables and enough of it held until the captive had been brought over the tank and lowered into it.
Hal was glad to see that the tank was just big enough to hold its huge guest. But the visitor did not like its new home and proceeded to splash all the water out of the tank. The pump was turned on and more water poured in. The crew struggled to get the lid on the tank for it seemed quite likely that the manta would leap clear out of its prison and thresh about the decks demolishing spars and rigging.
The lid or hatch was finally locked in place. Then all crowded around the glass porthole to get a look at the prize. It had given up the fight and lay quietly on the bottom of the tank like an immense black blanket. The net was still draped about it.
‘How will we get the net out of there?’ Roger wanted to know.
Hal had no taste for another bout with his unwilling guest ‘We’ll leave him in the net. That way, it will be possible to lift him out of there. We ought to make Honolulu in a couple of days now. We’ll tranship him to a cargo steamer bound for home. Then we’ll have the tank free in case we want to take on another big passenger.’ ‘An octopus, maybe?’ hoped Roger. ‘Maybe. But in the meantime, Roger, you are appointed
chef to Mr Manta. You’ve got to get enough fish to keep him full and happy.’
‘And no dinghy to fish from,’ mourned Roger. Then his eyes brightened. ‘I think I know how to catch enough fish for his majesty.’
When night came, the fish began to pour on board. For Roger had adjusted a torch so that it threw a bright light on a sail and brought flying-fish by the dozen. When enough had accumulated to make a good meal, Roger and Omo gathered them and dumped them into the tank where they speedily disappeared down the mighty maw of the sea bat.
Chapter 6
Coral atoll
‘No wonder they call it paradise!’ exclaimed Hal as the Lively Lady rounded Diamond Head, sailed past the white beach of Waikiki where brown giants stood erect on flying surfboards, glided by lovely groves of palms and flowering trees, and dropped anchor in the harbour of Honolulu.
Hawaii was all the boys had dreamed it should be. But they could stay only long enough to have some tanks built and ship their prizes, including the giant manta. on the cargo steamer Pacific Star, bound for New York and London by way of Panama.
Omo did not want them to like Hawaii too much. The islands in the part of the Pacific he called home were quite different.
‘Oh, this is all right,’ he said with a shrug of his brown shoulders, ‘but wait till you see the coral atolls!’
And so. having taken aboard a new dinghy in place of the one destroyed by the too-athletic sea bat, the Lively Lady proceeded on her way.
As the ship neared the countless isles and islets of the Marshall archipelago the sea swarmed with life. Dolphins and porpoises raced the schooner for miles, taking time off from the race to indulge in high jumps and broad jumps and play with each other like overgrown puppies. A big sperm whale accompanied the ship for a whole day.
On another day a whale shark, which is truly a shark but as big as a whale, took delight in bumping the ship with its frightfully ugly face. It looked as if its face had been bumped too often. It was twisted and lumpy and had a horrifying expression. Captain Ike said the whale shark was harmless. But Roger dreamed about it that night. He woke in terror and turned on his torch, fully expecting to see the whale shark’s dreadful face leering at him over the edge of his bunk.
At night the sea gleamed like a sheet of silver. Millions upon millions of plankton, tiny living organisms, glowed with phosphorescent light.
The nets, towed behind, captured many wonderful specimens. When the ship rode into a school of large fish a big trawl net was let down. By this means a bad-tempered conger-eel was captured, and later a swordfish.
But they had trouble with the swordfish. This creature’s sword is as deadly as any ever used by the Knights of the Round Table. When the swordfish chooses to attack a boat it can sink it with one thrust of its sword.
The swordfish had not been in the tank for an hour before it pierced its prison wall with its blade and the water ran out. The pump had to be turned on to rid the hold of the water. The swordfish lay gasping on the bottom of the tank.
Prompt action was necessary to save the fish. The hole was ha
stily patched. But how to prevent the same thing happening again?
Roger came up with an idea.
‘How about a boxing-glove?’ The boys had brought along two pairs of boxing-gloves so that they might amuse themselves when life on board became too monotonous - if it ever did.
Roger slipped down to the cabin and brought back a glove. And a thimble!
Crab, standing by, was contemptuous.
‘Do you think you’re going to stop that brute with a boxing-glove and a thimble?’
The thimble was a big one, for a seaman’s use. Hal caught the idea at once and gave his smart younger brother an admiring grin.
He put the solid steel thimble over the point of the sword, then drew the boxing-glove on over the thimble. With his knife he cut notches in the sword and laced the glove to the notches so firmly that it could not come off.
Then water was pumped into the tank. The swordfish slowly revived. He swam lazily about. Then he backed and made a rush at the side of the tank. The boxing-glove harmlessly thumped the wall and bounced off.
Time and again the four-hundred-pound fish threw his weight into a swift plunge only to have the blow cushioned by that mysterious bulbous thing on the end of his sword. Finally he gave up making a battering ram of himself and turned his attention to the meal of fresh fish that had been poured into his tank.
‘Land!’ called Omo from the masthead. Captain Ike peered ahead. ‘It’s land sure enough.’ Hal and Roger strained their eyes but could see nothing that looked like land.
But they did see something very strange. Straight ahead just over the horizon was a brilliant green cloud. Perhaps it wouldn’t be right to call it a cloud - it was more like a light, a luminous glow.
One might see a greenish tint in the sky at sunrise or sunset, but whoever saw green in the middle of the morning?
It burned with a wavering light as if it were made of flame or gas or rippling water. It seemed to dissolve and flow away and then come back as strong as ever.
‘What in the world is it?’ Hal asked Omo who had now descended to the deck and seemed much amused by Hal’s bewilderment.
‘It’s the Bikini atoll,’ Omo replied. ‘Not that we can see the atoll, but we know it is there by that glow in the sky.’ ‘What makes the glow?’
‘Reflection from the lagoon. It has a floor of white sand and coral and is very shallow in some places - that makes the water appear a very light green - and it makes a mirage in the sky. You can see the mirage for half a day before you can see the island.’
Late in the afternoon Bikini reared its palms above the horizon. As the ship drew nearer Hal and Roger drank in the beauty of the first coral atoll they had ever seen.
It was like a necklace of pearls laid out on the sea. It was a great circle of coral reef surrounding a lagoon. The waves roared white on the reef, but the lagoon inside was calm and glowed with an aquamarine light. It was like a lake set down in the middle of the ocean. The captain said the lagoon was large, some twenty miles across.
Tiny coral polyps had industriously built up this long reef. Seeds of palms and plants that had drifted across the ocean had washed up on the reef and sprouted in the decaying coral and sand. The result was that here and there along the reef an island had formed, a green lovely island contrasting sharply with the barren whiteness of the rest of the reef.
Some of these islands were little fellows, only about as long as the Lively Lady. Some were a mile long. But they were all very narrow. In every case only a few hundred yards separated the ocean shore from the shore of the lagoon.
At three points the reef was broken and it was possible to sail through into the lagoon. The Lively Lady headed for the south-eastern passage. The ship was sailing full before a strong wind and yawed dangerously as the following seas threw her stern this way and that. The tide poured in through the entrance like water through a funnel and savage conflicting currents thrashed the ship and sought to throw her upon the sharp coral. But Captain Ike knew his schooner and brought her in safely upon the quiet green mirror of the ocean lake. He hove-to and dropped anchor a cable’s length from the gleaming white beach of a palm-covered islet.
Hal studied the captain’s chart. The map showed twenty islands on the coral reef. The one close at hand was named Enyu. Others bore such names as Bikini, Aomoen, Namu, Rukoji, Enirikku, and - a real jaw-breaker - Vokororyuru. In the northeast corner of the lagoon was a cross. ‘What does the cross mean?’ asked Hal. ‘That’s where the atom bomb tests were held.’ ‘Aren’t you afraid of radioactivity?’ ‘Not any more,’ said the captain. Those explosions were set off in 1946. Of course they made everything radioactive - the soil, the coconuts, even the fish. But now scientists report the place safe for human beings - provided they don’t stay too long.’
‘What happened to the natives who were here before the test?’
‘There were one hundred and sixty-five of them living here. They and their King Juda were moved to Rongerik Island. It’s a hundred and thirty miles east.’
‘Wasn’t that pretty tough - being rooted out of their home islands?’
‘Pretty tough,’ Captain Ike admitted. ‘They didn’t like Rongerik. There were no fish there and few food plants. The king appealed to the U.S. Navy to save them from starvation. So they were moved again - to Ujelang Island.’
‘And they’re still there?’
‘Still there. But not very happy about it. Their old way of life has been ripped to pieces. The island is poor compared with these. The people have to depend upon the American Navy for food. They’ve lost their interest in life.’
‘Hard luck,’ sympathized Hal. ‘But I suppose there was nothing else that the navy could have done. The tests had to be made. Will there be any more tests here?’
‘Hard to say. But now the main proving ground is Eniwetok atoll. It’s about two hundred miles farther west. We’ll pass it’ ‘I suppose the natives were shipped out of there too?’
‘One hundred and forty-seven of them.’ The captain’s leather face crinkled in a smile around his sharp blue eyes. ‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘it don’t pay to get too sentimental about these kanakas. They’ve always been pushed around and I guess they always will be.’
The dinghy was lowered and all went ashore. It was good to feel solid ground underfoot. The island was a lush and lovely garden. If the trees had been injured by the atomic bomb blast there was little sign of it left. Nature had triumphed in spite of the most devastating blow that man could strike.
It took only half an hour to walk around the island. It was uninhabited. As night came on the men sat around the small campfire and ate a picnic supper. Hal noticed that Omo had wandered away down the beach, perhaps to enjoy the stillness of the lagoon under the night sky. During these past days he had felt strangely drawn towards Omo. He admired his even disposition, his patience and cheerfulness, his skill in handling the schooner, and his quiet courage. He wondered what Omo was thinking now that he had come back to the sort of islands he loved.
He excused himself and wandered down the beach. He found Omo leaning against a coconut tree and looking out over the lagoon. Hal joined him. Omo seemed so wrapped up in his reverie that Hal did not speak.
Now the lagoon was black instead of green. It looked like a sheet of black glass. It reflected blue-white Vega, yellow Arcturus, fiery-red Antares. A thousand other pinpoints of light stabbed its surface. In a few hours it would reflect the Southern Cross, quite visible here although Bikini was a few degrees north of the equator.
There was no sound except the muffled roar of the surf on the outer edge of the reef. The islands across the lagoon were dark.
‘I was here once long ago,’ said Omo. ‘People lived here then. It was a happy place. Now it is very sad.’
‘But it had to be,’ Hal replied. ‘I mean, the atom bomb tests and all that’
‘I know, I know. I blame no one.’ They sat down on the bank that shelved to the beach. ‘Omo,’ said HaL ‘how does it come that you s
peak English so well? I thought everybody down here spoke pidgin-English or - what do you call it? - beche-de-mer.’
Omo’s white teeth gleamed in a smile. ‘I am glad you like my English. I learned it from an American missionary lady. She was very good - she taught our people much. Some of our other visitors were not so kind.’
Hal did not need to ask what he meant. The early European and American visitors to these waters had been more interested in copra and pearls than in kindness. They had given the natives their diseases, debauched them with their strong liquors, and slaughtered them with firearms. And was this cruelty a thing of the past? He remembered what Crab had said the other day: ‘Let him sink. He’s only a kanaka anyhow.’ Had Omo heard him say it? ‘Omo,’ Hal said, ‘I want you to do me a favour.’ Omo turned towards him eagerly. ‘Anything in the world!’
‘I have heard that your people have a custom of exchanging names. Two friends swap names as a sign that they are blood brothers and are ready to give their lives for each other. Would you be willing to swap names with me, Omo?’
Omo tried to answer, but choked with emotion. Hal caught the glint of starlight on a tear rolling down the brown man’s cheek. Then Omo’s powerful hand grasped his.
‘It shall be so,’ said Omo. ‘In the depths of our hearts you shall be Omo and I shall be Hal. What we would do for ourselves we will do for each other.’
Chapter 7
Argument with an octopus
Roger could never seem to get over the idea that this trip was a lark arranged for his special amusement.
His chief object in life was to have a good time. His brother could be as serious as he liked. But as for him, he was going to have some fun.
So, instead of hunting specimens along the reef the next morning, he stripped to his shorts and dived in for a cool swim.
This was the ocean side of the reef. The ocean was quiet this morning except for a lazy swell.
Hal saw his brother dive into the sea and smiled tolerantly. The kid was too young to work for long at a time. Let him enjoy himself.
02 South Sea Adventure Page 3
