Kitabı oku: «The Radio Boys Under the Sea: or, The Hunt for Sunken Treasure», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XIV
THE TENTACLES OF THE DEVIL-FISH
Armed with keen knives and axes, they chopped a way through the dense jungle growth, finding that it thinned out as they mounted the steep ridges that formed the center of the island. Here the going was easier, and in a few hours they had reached the summit of the highest peak. From here they had a wide view of the far flung expanse of waters. To the west they thought they could descry land, but in every other direction the ocean stretched unbroken to the horizon.
What claimed their greatest attention, however, was the fact that the mountain they were on was evidently of volcanic origin. The sides were seamed with ridges and gulleys of hardened lava, and when they advanced a little further they found themselves gazing down into a deep crater. There was a sulphurous smell in the air, and near the bottom they could see what looked like jets of steam issuing from the rocks. It was not reassuring to learn that they were stranded on a volcanic island, but they reflected that the volcano, if it had not in centuries destroyed the island, was not likely to bother them now.
They descended the mountain in a direction that would bring them to the coast a considerable distance from their cave, as the going was easier in that direction. Eventually they came out on a strip of beach that was separated from theirs by a strip of jungle. This beach, however, was different from theirs. It was backed up by a rocky wall, in which the action of the waves had hollowed out great caves. When they reached the beach it was low tide, but they judged that it was probably entirely covered at flood.
“Let’s explore the caves,” proposed Dick, and they headed for the largest of these. It was a great, echoing cavern, from which other smaller caves opened, where the ocean had eaten out the soft spots in the stone. In some of these caves lay great pools of water left by the receding tide, some of them so deep that the boys could not touch bottom even with the long sticks they carried.
Dick was seated on the edge of one of these pools tying a loose shoelace, while the others had wandered off to explore other caves. He was leaning over, intent upon his task, when something cold and slimy suddenly encircled his neck, and he felt himself being drawn toward the water by an irresistible force. At the same time another snake like tentacle encircled his body, pinning his arms to his sides.
Dick struggled frantically and shouted wildly for the others to come to his assistance.
They were some distance off, but heard his cries, and rushed to the rescue. They arrived not a moment too soon. Dick was just being drawn beneath the water when they arrived, and took in the situation at a glance.
“A devil-fish has got him” shouted Benton, and without a pause they all leaped into the deadly pool. Their feet landed on something soft and pulpy, and they were surrounded in an instant by a maze of tentacles feeling for a grip.
But they were armed with their sharp hatchets and they hacked desperately at the slimy tentacles, each of which was provided with a row of suckers for fastening upon its prey. The pool was lashed into foam as the boys cut and slashed at the two big tentacles that held Dick. The octopus fought fiercely, but there were too many against it. No other prey that it had ever seized had stood a chance but these strange enemies who wielded flashing steel were evidently in a different class. One after another they hacked off the writhing feelers, until none appeared above the surface of the water. Then they all climbed out onto the slippery rock, where Dick was seated half dazed by the horror of his experience.
“That was a close call, old fellow,” said Phil. “It’s luck we were within hailing distance. How did the devil fish get hold of you?”
Dick told him, and then got somewhat shakily to his feet. “I’ve heard that an octopus will grow new tentacles in place of those he loses, and I’m going to see that this fellow doesn’t have a chance at anything again,” said Dick.
“What’s your idea?” asked Steve.
“Dynamite,” replied Dick briefly. “You fellows stay here until I go to camp and get a stick. I’m feeling all right now.”
In due time he arrived with a stick of explosive and a fuse. Benton showed him how to set the cap and fuse, and when all was ready they lighted the fuse and dropped the stick into the pool. Then they rushed out onto the sand and awaited developments.
In a few seconds there came a terrific explosion, and a cloud of water and steam rushed from the cave. After giving the air time to clear, they returned to the cave which had been the abode of the octopus. Over the walls and roof were scattered shreds of flabby flesh, all that remained of the lurking monster, while not a drop of water remained in the deep pool in which he had lain.
Even Dick could have asked no more complete destruction of his enemy, and they set out for their cave well satisfied with the result of the adventure.
As they neared the cave, Phil stopped short in a listening attitude. The others also halted and looked at him inquiringly.
“I thought I heard a rifle shot,” said Phil at length. “Did you fellows hear it too?”
“Guess you must be dreaming,” chaffed Dick “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Come out of your trance,” jibed Steve.
“Guess it must have been the echo of that dynamite explosion,” suggested Tom jocosely. “Who is there on this island to fire off a gun?”
“Of course it doesn’t seem likely,” returned Phil. “I thought I heard it, but I might have been mistaken.”
They bantered him good-naturedly, and Phil finally concluded that his ears might have played him false, and in the pressure of other matters the incident was forgotten.
CHAPTER XV
TORN APART
The rough weather which had delayed their fascinating work of exploration continued for a day or two longer and the boys, impatient at the setback, were beginning to make plans to brave the heavy sea, when, as suddenly as it had risen, the wind died down, followed by a heavy, breathless calm.
“At last,” muttered Dick as the boys stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out over the placid water, “the elements are with us again. I had begun to think that wind would never die down.”
“I imagine we’d better work fast too, if that overgrown hill is volcanic,” said Tom, with a glance over his shoulder at the lowering mountain. “We don’t want all our fun spoiled by an eruption.”
“Our fun wouldn’t be the only thing spoiled, I imagine,” grinned Steve as they started back for their apparatus. “If that old Jumbo over there should take it into its head to get busy there wouldn’t be enough of us left to send back to the folks.”
Finding the slender shelter which they had erected when they had first been flung upon the island, insufficient to ward off the terrific storm winds that visited that part of the world, the boys had taken refuge in a huge cave, evidently dug out of the side of the mountain by countless attacks of the sea.
That it was ancient there could be no doubt. Also there were traces of human habitation. Someone had evidently dwelt there before them and the boys, as well as Jack Benton himself jumped to the conclusion that that someone had been no other than the marooned old pirate himself.
Of course it was possible that others had occupied the island since the time of the old buccaneer, but it was not at all likely. This small volcanic, desolated island, isolated from the outside world was not one to attract visitors.
Of course, as Tom pointed out, the cave might have sheltered some poor shipwrecked refugee washed ashore by the strong tide. But to this Phil raised the objection that the island was far from the beaten track of vessels and a ship must be blown far out of her course in order to approach these remote waters.
“Well,” Steve had finished with a grin, “we might as well say this is the old pirate’s cave. There’s no one to contradict us anyway.”
“I wish,” Tom had said at this point, “the treasure had been buried in this cave instead of at the bottom of the sea. It would have been a mighty sight more convenient.”
“But not half the fun,” Phil had added. “There’s not everyone has a chance to say ‘howdy’ to sharks and other weird looking animals without being afraid the greeting will be his last. I just sit fast within that iron-bound diving suit and grin at ’em.”
“You feel something like the cat the dog has treed, eh?” laughed Benton. “Let the dog bark and be durned to him.”
“Exactly,” grinned Phil. “It sure is a grand and glorious feeling.”
Now as the boys returned to the cave they saw that Bimbo was working furiously at something. It was so remarkable for Bimbo to work hard at anything that the boys regarded him curiously.
“What’s up, old boy?” shouted Phil when they came within calling distance. “Has a bee stung you or something?”
“Law, Marse Phil,” the negro answered straightening up and showing all his teeth in a broad grin. “They ain’t no sech a thing in dis part de world, not as Ah ever heered on. No sir, Marse Phil. Ah was jes’ gettin’ you’ breffust ready in a tearin’ hurry. The wind done gone an’ lef’ us an’ I knowed you’d be wantin’ get busy right soon. So Ah says to myself, Ah says, ‘Bimbo, you stir yo legs, Nigger, yo done better get a wiggle on. Marse Phil done got one busy day befo’ him.’ So, Marse Phil, I jes’ been followin’ mah own advice.”
By this time they had reached the cave and Phil gave the grinning black boy a resounding slap on the back.
“Good boy, Bimbo,” he laughed. “You’re getting better every day. I believe you know what we want before we want it ourselves.”
Bimbo beamed at this praise and his eyes followed Phil with the faithful devotion of a dog. It is safe to say that the black boy would have died without a murmur for this adored young master.
The boys were full of enthusiasm and they ate the tempting food that Bimbo set before them hurriedly, hardly knowing what they ate.
One thing was uppermost in their minds – the lure of the treasure hidden beneath the hatches of the sunken ship.
“I’d better take some dynamite with me this time,” said Phil, as he finished his last bite of breakfast and stood up, eager for action. “From the look I had at them the other day I don’t believe I’ll be able to lift the hatches by my own strength.”
“All right, let’s go,” said Dick, energetically. “The first thing is to get all our stuff down to the water. We’ll want to take some of the radio apparatus I suppose.”
“Sure thing,” said Steve. “We’ll need a couple of batteries anyway – enough to generate the spark that will set off the dynamite.”
“We’ll need to be mighty careful in using this stuff,” cautioned Benton. “Dynamite works a great deal more powerfully under water than it does on land. It sure would be unhealthy for Phil if we didn’t get him up and removed to a safe distance before the charge goes off. Playing safe is a good policy when you’re dealing with such ticklish stuff as dynamite.
“Sure,” said Phil, “that charge won’t be set off before we’re at a safe distance. Everything ready fellows? All right, let’s go.”
Heavily-laden they got down to the water and piled the apparatus onto the stout raft. Then they got into the little dory and rowed as fast as they could with the cumbrous load in tow, out to the spot where radio had told them the sunken ship lay hidden.
Then Phil donned the diving suit and, with several sticks of dynamite hugged carefully to his chest was slowly lowered over the side of the raft, down, down, down into the unexplored depths of the ocean.
As on that other time, he was filled with a wild excitement. His heart beat thumpingly within the narrow confines of the diving suit. He felt a sort of awe at exploring the mysteries that were generally hidden from human eyes. This was indeed a different world into which he was being slowly lowered, a world filled with vivid-colored creatures which were strange to him.
Down and ever down – while the color and shape of these dwellers under the sea became more brilliant and bewildering. Distorted, grotesque shapes brushed past him to disappear into the shadows beyond the radius of the lights which flung their rays through the water.
As he sank deeper and the weight of the water increased, Phil noticed as he had done before how the radiance from these lights diminished, the rays seemingly thrown back upon themselves by the density of the water.
When at last his feet sank into the soft sand at the bottom of the sea, he could see only a little distance ahead of him.
“However, that distance would be enough,” he told himself, thrilling with the thought of what he was about to do. He, Phil Strong alone at the bottom of the ocean with the treasure.
But perhaps, after all, there was no treasure. The thought chilled him. Suppose the gold they believed to be stored in the hatches of the sunken ship had only existed in the old pirate’s imagination. Suppose they had come all this distance on a wild goose chase.
By a strong effort he shook off these thoughts. If they did not find gold, he told himself, at least they had had the adventure and he, for one, wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
He found that the floating buoy must have shifted a little for he had not landed in the same spot as he had before. He had noticed particularly the formation of the coral beds as a guide to the hulk of the ship and now he found himself confronted by unfamiliar, though wonderfully beautiful coral rock.
He groped his way forward, moving as quickly as he could in the clumsy suit, retarded by the heavy pressure of the water. He knew by experience that the oxygen in the tank did not last long and so he must make the most of every moment when he could breathe without difficulty.
It was a nightmare sensation, groping there at the bottom of the sea, knowing the need for haste and yet being unable to hurry! The grotesque shapes of monster fish flashed by him and once a shark swam so close to him he could have touched it by reaching out the hooks that served him as hands.
He thought of what Jack Benton had said about the treed cat, but this time he did not grin. He was too anxious to reach the ship before his supply of oxygen gave out.
And then before him, looming out of the shadows as gaunt and gray as a ghost was the hulk of the pirate ship. Phil gave a cry of joy and lumbered heavily forward.
Once the line that connected him with the upper world wound about a projection of rock and he wasted precious time trying to disengage it. It would never do to repeat that other experience of his. Once had been quite enough!
At last he reached the boat, clambered over the rail and tried to find footing on its slanting slippery deck. He half walked, half slid to the first hatch and tried vainly to pry it loose. Swollen by water, its hinges hopelessly rusted, it would take a force greater than Phil’s to lift it.
Phil picked up the dynamite which he had carefully laid on the deck.
“It’s up to you, old son,” he said almost affectionately as he placed the charge close to the hatch and fastened to the fuse the wire which he had brought for the purpose. “You just get the hatches open and trust to Uncle Phil to do the rest!”
The work done, he gave the signal and was quickly drawn up to the surface. The boat put in for the shore and not until they were within a few yards of it did they halt. Then Benton pressed the key of the battery.
CHAPTER XVI
WAVE-TOSSED
A tremendous concussion, a muffled explosion that seemed to shake the bowels of the earth – then a spout of water shooting high into the air, a sight to inspire an awed and fearful wonder.
Removed as they were from the danger zone, the boys were yet near enough to feel some of the effects of the explosion. The tremendous incoming wave caught them on its crest and flung them high and dry upon the shore, then broke over them, rumbling onward.
Instinctively they dug their fingers and toes into the yielding sand, waiting for the outward rush of the water to pull them with it out into the turbulent sea.
It came, in tugging sucking volume, striving to break their hold – a smothering whirl of water. With all their might they fought to retain their hold upon the shifting sand – and won. Retiring with a defeated roar the great wave swung outward.
Gasping the boys rose to their feet and made for the higher ground while a second wave, lesser than the first tagged at their heels.
“The boat,” gasped Phil. “The raft – ”
“Safe, Marse Phil,” chattered the voice of Bimbo in his ear. “The wave done took ’em an’ half buried ’em in de sand. Reckon we’ll have to tug to get ’em out, yessir.”
Phil followed the shaking black finger and there, sure enough, fifty feet away were the boat and the raft, half buried in wet sand. Miraculous as it seemed, the craft had been so deeply buried they had even resisted the tremendous tug of the outrushing waters.
“That’s a stroke of luck,” muttered Phil thankfully, then looked for his companions.
They were there, looking kind of white and shaken and staring as though fascinated out to sea. One wave had followed another, each smaller than the last, finally settling into a froth of white capped combers, a seething whirlpool of writhing waters.
“Say,” remarked Steve with a shadow of his famous grin, “if you ask this old boy I’ll say we sure stirred things up some. Who’d have guessed that that much dynamite would have made all that fuss?”
“It was a mighty pretty sight,” said Tom, waxing enthusiastic now that the danger was passed. “A magnificent sight.”
“And we ought to thank our stars we lived to see it,” said Dick dryly. “Say boys, what’s become of the boats?”
Phil pointed them out and they went over to examine their contents and see how much loss there was – if any. They found that a couple of batteries had been swept overboard, but as they had more safe in the cave, this was not an important loss.
The diver’s suit which Phil had removed before setting off the charge, had been thrown clear off the raft but it was so heavy that it had dug a hole for itself and lay there, distorted and grotesque like some monster thrown up from the sea.
“Lucky for us we didn’t lose that,” said Phil softly. “We’d have had a pretty time trying to get hold of the treasure without.”
As though the word itself had some magic power the minds of the boys immediately returned to the hunt. As though moved by a single impulse, they turned and looked out to sea.
The tumultuous waters had quieted until now only a slight eddy and swirl marked the spot of the explosion.
“Safe enough now, I imagine,” said Benton, answering the unspoken question of them all. “What do you say we put out again?”
“Aye, aye,” cried Steve joyfully. “Can’t be too soon to suit me. What are you doing, Phil.”
“Trying to get into this suit again,” replied Phil, his hands fumbling with his undersea armor. “This rig is about as comfortable as a hair shirt.”
“Mighty handy when the sharks come snooping around, just the same,” laughed Jack Benton as he and Tom helped to adjust the clumsy suit.
“Oh I don’t know,” Phil’s voice came muffled to them from inside the hideous head gear. “I’d just about as soon play around with a shark as this thing.”
And how could he know that soon he would remember those words and under circumstances that would live with him in the form of nightmare for many years to come? Perhaps it was just as well that he didn’t know!
Once more they put off from shore, Phil remaining on the raft eagerly impatient to descend once more to the ocean bed, to probe at last into the mysteries of the treasure ship. What would the dynamite-torn hulk reveal to him? He had hard work to keep his teeth from chattering with excitement.
“Steady now, Phil, old man,” he heard Steve yell to him as he slipped over the side of the raft and felt the water gurgle up about him.
“Be sure you don’t come up without a fistful of gold,” added Tom, and by way of response Phil shook a claw at them.
Slowly the water crept up to his lips, to his eyes, and then he knew that he was fully submerged, moving downward, ever downward toward the open hatch.
That the hatch would be open he had not the slightest doubt. No hatch, however stout, could hope to withstand a force that had created a small tidal wave so many feet above it. The way would be open – for him to explore.
The descent seemed torturingly slow to his impatience. Once more bright-colored fish swam and swirled about him, bewildered, and yet attracted by the light from his lamps. Once more he felt as though this marvelous experience were a dream from which he must presently awake to find himself once more in the humdrum world of commonplaces.
And then at last, the touch of sand to his feet. The rope slackened. He was at the bottom.
This time they had judged the location better. He recognized the now familiar formation of the coral rock that lay near the wreck and with ever-increasing excitement he made for the ship.
His progress was a rather gruesome affair, hampered as it was by the bodies of dead fish, floating bellies up in a grotesquely helpless attitude.
The sharks and larger fish had suffered also and Phil was conscious of a creepy sensation at the roots of his hair as a dead shark bumped against his legs.
“I don’t like ’em alive,” he muttered, evidently referring to the sharks. “But I don’t like ’em even when they’re dead.”
Then he was stopped by an unusually unpleasant thought. What – beside possible treasure would he be likely to find within the shattered hulk of the old Sea Rover. The thought was enough to give anyone pause.
“If I hate dead fish,” Phil communed with himself, “how much more will I hate dead – ” he paused at the word and then went resolutely on again.
According to the old pirate the good ship had gone down with all hands on board and the pirate ships were always well manned. “Bricks and stones and dead men’s bones – ” Phil tried to laugh but he didn’t get very far with it.
At that moment the hulk of the sunken ship loomed before him, but in spite of his eagerness for the treasure Phil’s feet lagged. If only he could find the gold first – then, calling himself all sorts of names he started forward again, making the best speed he could toward the wreck.
“Don’t be a fool,” he said, briskly. “The fellows on the Sea Rover have been dead long enough not to mind my company. Their stolen money isn’t doing anyone any good here at the bottom of the sea.”
As he clambered to the slanting deck of the vessel it seemed to him that the oxygen in the tank was becoming exhausted but he soon discovered that it was only his excitement that caused his labored breathing.
As he stood balancing on the slippery deck he took in with a quick glance the work that the dynamite had done. No need to worry about the hatch now! The whole upper deck had been torn to shreds and the interior of the vessel yawned toward him, a dark gaping hole.
With a feeling of one who is venturing into the unknown, Phil strove to pierce the gloom in the depths of that strange vessel. What did the blackness hide from him?
