Zircon's big hand took Rick by the shoulder, then he turned and motioned to the others that they were going under. Rick shifted from snorkel to aqualung mouthpiece. He took the end of rope that Zircon held out and snapped it to his weight belt. He and Zircon were now connected by a ten-foot length of rope, necessary to keep them from becoming separated in the darkness.
He submerged and dove straight down into the blackness. His thumb compressed the button on the side of the case and the camera started, the infrared light turning on. A narrow cone of water extending out about twenty feet was illuminated, but the illumination was visible only through the special glasses he and Zircon wore.
Rick held the button until they reached bottom, then suddenly realized he would use all his film before they had even found the frogmen. He groaned silently. Why hadn't he used his head? The light as well as the camera motor were operated by the same button. If he had only thought, it would have been a few seconds' work to change the circuit so the light would be on continuously. Or he might even be able to rig a waterproof switch that would operate just the light.
Well, it was too late now. He jerked on the rope for Zircon to stop, then took his belt slate and wrote, "Cam on whn lite is. Wll use nw & thn." He held it in the beam of infrared light for Zircon to read. The scientist scribbled "OK" under the message, then gave him a gentle push as a signal to go ahead.
Rick held his wrist in the beam and read ninety-two feet on his depth gauge. He calculated quickly. They would have enough air for about twenty-five minutes at this depth.
He held the camera switch long enough to see that there was only smooth bottom ahead, then released it. Almost total blackness flooded in. For all practical purposes it was completely dark, no glimmer of light to mark their way.
For an instant Rick felt panic, but reason reasserted itself. It was instinctive to feel fear under such circumstances, he thought. Not only was he out of his own medium, air, but in a high-pressure realm inhabited by potentially dangerous creatures. He grinned inwardly at the thought. The most dangerous creatures in this vicinity were human.
A twinkle of light stopped him, but Zircon continued on and the connecting line tightened. Rick identified the twinkle as phosphorescence from some marine creature on the reef. There were many such in the ocean. He flashed the infrared light, saw that they were still heading properly, and cut it off again.
The rope at his belt tugged four times for danger! He stopped instantly, letting go of the camera with one hand while he reached for his belt knife. Then he saw what Zircon had seen, a glow in the water ahead and above them. Rick estimated quickly the distance they had traveled. There was no doubt of it. The frogmen were at the octopus cave!
He followed Zircon's lead, cutting the light off and on as necessary, as the big scientist moved ahead. The glow grew in intensity, but they were still too far away to see its exact position, or whether there were men around it.
Rick's heart beat faster, and his breathing speeded up appreciably. In spite of Zircon's plan to claim they were only checking on the frogmen's interest in the wreck, Rick knew that being discovered would mean serious trouble. He recalled Steve's warning that they were up against a ruthless enemy.
The question was, how close could they get without being seen? He could take pictures at ten feet, but at any greater distance the camera would be useless.
Zircon moved ahead, going slowly now. Rick followed, not bothering with the dark-light unit because the glow in the water was enough for a beacon. Then the glow faded for a moment as a figure crossed in front of it. Still Zircon moved ahead until Rick could see two additional, smaller glows that he identified as the belt lights the frogmen had been wearing.
Zircon continued on, still hugging the bottom, and Rick divined his intention. The big scientist was going to take them directly under the frogmen! It was logical, since the frogmen would not expect danger below.
Rick followed, staying just behind Zircon's flippers, feeling the wash of water from his wake. The light was nearly overhead now, and Rick saw dark figures moving. It was unreal, like a Hollywood motion picture, except that the tense music of a movie production was replaced only by the soft sighing of their regulators.
And with the thought, Rick almost lost his mouthpiece. Their bubbles! Their bubbles would rise right past the frogmen, a dead giveaway! It might already be too late, because Zircon was almost directly under the cave!
Rick jerked frantically on the tie rope, four times for danger, then he turned and swam rapidly back the way they had come. At first he felt resistance on the line, then Zircon hurried to catch up. Not until they were barely within seeing distance of the light did Rick stop, then he took his belt slate, started the camera for light, and wrote "Bubbles go by thm if we undr. They see."
Zircon held a hand to his head in a sign of chagrin that he had forgotten, then he wrote, "Hw we gt clos?"
Rick pondered the problem. The bubbles had alarmed him in another way, too. It was possible that the man on the boat could see four sets of bubbles rising where only two were supposed to be. Yet, he couldn't escape the feeling that it was important to get a look at what the frogmen were doing. There was no way out of it. He just had to take a chance.
He wrote, "I mak pass hldng brth so no bbls, tak pix. U sty out of rnge & cvr me wth gn."
Rick had just one hope of getting away with it. He had to assume that the frogmen would be busy with whatever they were doing in the cave. If so, their backs would be to the open sea. At least the chance was worth taking.
Zircon wrote, "OK bt be crfl."
Rick didn't need the warning. Together, they swam back until they were close to the glow of the lights. He hoped that the darkness and breaking surf above were concealing their bubbles. Finally Zircon halted. Rick unsnapped the line that held him to the scientist, squeezed Zircon's shoulder, and swam away from the reef toward the open water. He kept his head turned so he could keep the light in his field of vision.
When he was out far enough he swam upward until he was on a level with the light, and directly out to sea from it. He inhaled, filling his lungs, then with camera outthrust, he drove directly toward the light. It wasn't hard to hold his breath—not with his heart acting as a stopper in his throat.
The light grew clearer. He started the camera and kept moving with powerful strokes. Then he held his legs still and let inertia carry him in a silent glide. He had to get close—close!
The light grew in intensity, and details grew clearer. He saw the frogmen, and their backs were to him! Between them, he caught a glimpse of something brassy and round, and he saw the octopus, clinging to the reef to one side of the cave.
He held the camera button as long as he dared. Then when it seemed that he would glide right into the frogmen, he twisted sideways and bent backward like a circus acrobat, flippers moving in powerful thrusts. It was an excellent underwater imitation of a wingover, the plane maneuver that reversed direction by diving and turning. He planed downward until he touched bottom, then thrust himself with frantic kicks away from the vicinity of the cave.
His lungs were about to burst, he felt, when finally he drew a deep breath. The gurgling sigh of his bubbles was sheer relief. He kept moving until he bumped headlong into Hobart Zircon. The scientist reached out and snapped his rope onto Rick's belt, then tugged twice.
Zircon led the way along the reef bottom until they reached the spot where, they estimated, Tony and Scotty would be waiting. As they started for the surface, Rick switched on the camera and looked at his watch.
They had been under only ten minutes! And he had been waiting for the warning constriction of air running out!
Zircon broke water and instantly submerged again. He led the way a few feet under the surface to where he had seen Tony and Scotty, then led Rick to the top once more.
Tony and Scotty saw them emerge and without a word turned and started back toward the cottage, pushing their floats. Instead of bothering with the snorkel, Rick kept the aqualung mouthpiece in place and swam a few feet under the surface, guiding himself by the wake of the others. He was tired—and relieved.
The group crossed over the reef and swam to the beach in front of the cottage. There they gathered at the water's edge and stripped off their gear. For long moments no one spoke, then Zircon asked, "See anything, Rick?"
"A little. Enough to get an answer, I think. We haven't discovered a new breed of octopus, because they were installing something in the cave. Something that makes a noise."
"Do you know that, or do you infer it?" Tony asked.
"I didn't hear the noise, if that's what you mean. But what else could it be?"
"Too bad," Scotty said. "Now we won't have a new species named after us. Come on, give us the word. How was it?"
Rick said, with complete truth, "I was scared to death."
"And so was I," Zircon admitted. "At first the sensation of complete blackness caused an emotional reaction. Then I began to see that we had done a rather foolish thing. And I almost got us into trouble by forgetting that we send up a constant stream of bubbles." He told them of his plan to get under the cave, and of Rick's warning.
"We thought of your bubbles," Scotty told them. "I talked it over with Tony, and came within an ace of diving after you, although I doubt that I could have reached bottom and found you. But we watched, and we couldn't see any bubbles at all. It was too dark, and we were right where the water was breaking."
"My question is, did you get a picture?" Zircon wanted to know.
"I'm sure I did. The camera was going, and it probably saw much more than I did—since cameras don't get scared. But it won't do us much good right now. We can't develop the film."
The boys picked up the equipment and carried it to the Water Witch. Rick turned off the compressor. He was too tired to wait until all tanks were full. Time enough for that in the morning.
When he and Scotty returned to the cottage, Tony greeted them with cups of hot chocolate and they sat on the porch and enjoyed them.
"Let's sum up what we know," Zircon invited. "If anyone agrees that we know anything worth summing."
"I think we do," Rick said, "and I think we ought to get it to Steve Ames. We don't know what he's after, or what kind of gang he's fighting, but we know one of them is here."
"Yes, and we also know that Steve's agency is primarily concerned with protecting military secrets," Zircon added. "I agree with Rick. We must get word of these mysterious frogmen to him."
"We discussed that earlier," Tony recalled. "In view of our discussion, it would seem that either Rick or Scotty or both must fly to Charlotte Amalie and tell him personally."
Scotty pointed at the sky. "Have any of you looked up there?"
All of them did. The moon was just rising, and there was enough light to see heavy cirrus moving high overhead.
"There's a front of some kind moving down on us," Scotty said. "And did you notice the swells tonight? Long ones. I'm no first-class weather forecaster, but all the signs are there. We're in for a storm. The question is, how soon will it arrive?"
"He's right," Zircon agreed. "I'm glad you're observant, Scotty. Frankly, I hadn't even bothered looking at the weather. I suppose I thought it would just continue to be perfect."
Rick stared at the gathering clouds for long moments, then put into words the thing that had been bothering him.
"You know, there has been a cloud over this vacation almost from the moment we landed at Charlotte Amalie. We didn't want to get involved in anything but diving and exploring, but we got pulled by the ears into a hot case. Steve warned us off that first day. The warning didn't help, because we got dragged back into things when we went swimming, and again at the hotel."
Three faces were turned toward him, listening. He was expressing what all of them had been thinking, too.
"We thought we'd leave trouble behind when we came here," Rick continued, "but it was waiting for us. We didn't look for it, until tonight."
He drew a deep breath. "Well, from now on we have to become the hunters. Steve Ames doesn't know there's anything strange going on here. We do, and it's up to us to find out what. The goings-on in the octopus cave have something to do with the case Steve is working on—and what Steve is working on has something important to do with national security."
He smiled grimly. "I know none of you will disagree with this, because it's the only thing we can do. Professor Zircon knew it tonight when he tried to excuse our looking in on the frogmen as curiosity."
Zircon nodded silently.
"From now on," Rick concluded, "we have to operate as unofficial JANIG agents, until we can get word to Steve Ames so he and his men can take over."
The wind blew. It piled the surf high on the reef and blew the tops from waves between the reef and the shore. Hour by hour the wind stiffened, until the breakers on the shore were higher than those through which the Spindrifters had swum on the reef.
The first hours of the morning were spent getting ready for a blow. The Water Witch was secured by springlines, and extra fenders were put over her side. The four hauled the Sky Wagon high onto the beach by sheer muscle power, then turned the plane into the wind. Rick and Scotty salvaged the concrete-block foundation from the wreck of the cottage where they had found the planks, and used the blocks for land anchors on the plane.
The shutters were checked, and closed on the front of the cottage. The shed where the tank had broken through was repaired as well as improvised tools and materials allowed, and all loose gear was stowed inside.
The rain came. It drove with the wind into the front of the cottage in a continuous thunder. Its force carried it under the door, through cracks beside the window frames. The Spindrifters were forced to shred rags to stuff into cracks. In the kitchen the roof began to leak, and soon every available pot and pan was being used to catch drippings.
Rick worked almost in silence, not joining in the bantering of his friends. As was his way, he worried the problem of the frogmen and their mysterious behavior the way his dog, Dismal, would worry a bone.
He discarded a dozen possible reasons for their actions, including underwater communications, bombs, and an unusual way of fishing. He pondered on the relations of the Spindrift group—or lack of them—with the frogmen and re-examined their various theories.
First premise: The frogmen, specifically Steve's former shadow, hadn't recognized them or the Water Witch.
Second premise: The frogmen considered them harmless tourists, interested only in diving to the wreck, and therefore to be watched but not considered dangerous.
He rather liked that one. It would mean that the chicken had been dropped "mischievously," to use Zircon's word, to try to scare them out of the immediate vicinity. But there were other possibilities.
First premise: The frogmen knew of their connection with Steve.
Second premise: The frogmen weren't worried about people with JANIG connections.
This might be explained by superior weapons in the hands of the frogmen, coupled with the assumption that the Spindrifters had no communication with Steve. It might also be explained by knowledge of their real reason for being on Clipper Cay.
Rick didn't care much for the last two premises. The first one seemed more reasonable. After all, they were not sure that the former tail had seen the Water Witch in St. Thomas, or had known of their connection with it. On the contrary, to get to Clipper Cay so soon after the Spindrifters arrived, the frogman must have left about the same time the scientists did. There was even a possibility that he had arrived ahead of the Spindrift group and that the frogmen's boat had been out when Rick and Scotty had first spotted the diving equipment in the house. Anyway, there had been no sign of any tail but the Virgin Islander while they were around the pier and on the Water Witch. Either he or Scotty would almost certainly have spotted a second man—especially since they had seen him before.
There was a major precaution, however, to be taken: he and Scotty must not let Steve's former tail get a good look at them. They had to assume he had recognized their clumsiness for what it was—a deliberate stall.
Scotty poked him, and Rick suddenly realized that he had been leaning for quite a long while on the broom he was supposed to be using.
"Made up your mind about anything?" Scotty asked.
Rick knew his friend had been watching him. During their many adventures each had developed a rather unusual understanding of how the other's mind worked.
"Partly," Rick replied. He told Scotty his thoughts.
"You make sense," Scotty agreed, then added practically, "but I don't see what difference it makes, whether they know about our connection with Steve or not. The moment they catch us snooping they'll assume we're enemies. Until then, they'll let us alone just as they've been doing."
Zircon and Scotty joined forces to prepare lunch. The temperature had dropped sharply, and hot soup and hamburger sandwiches were welcome.
After lunch, Rick braved the storm long enough to go to the Water Witch for his camera. He returned to the cottage soaked to the skin. "We'll need diving equipment to go outside if this keeps up," he announced.
He took the camera case apart and disconnected his circuits, then he went outside again with tools in hand and got into the Sky Wagon. The plane had a heater switch that would do. He removed it, leaving the wires to dangle for the moment. If the heater was needed he could put the wires together.
That done, he sat in the plane and racked his memory for a source of sheet rubber. There was none, but he recalled a repair kit for the plastic floats in their tool supply. He found it and took it back to the house.
Using the awl blade on his scout knife, he bored a hole through the plastic back of the case and installed the switch. Then he reconnected his circuits so the new switch would turn on only the infrared light. He waterproofed the switch as best he could, making gaskets from a rubber jar ring he found in the kitchen.
He knew, however, that the switch wouldn't be waterproof under pressure. He took a sheet of plastic repair material from the float repair kit and shaped it carefully with his knife. After much trial and error he succeeded in cementing it onto the case so that it would protect the switch from the outside, but left enough slack for the switch to be operated through the flexible patch. Satisfied, he put it aside to dry.
It was nearly time for dinner when he finished. He took a hand in cooking ham and eggs with fried potatoes, while Tony prepared a salad and made coffee.
As they ate, Zircon gestured toward the front of the house. "Getting worse instead of letting up. This must be a hurricane, although I've never heard of one quite this early in the season."
"If it gets much worse we'll have to anchor the cottage," Scotty observed.
They finished just in time to tune in for the weather forecast from St. Thomas. According to the announcer, the storm was now centered off the island of St. Croix, moving in a northwesterly direction. That meant it would pass St. Thomas, and perhaps come very close to them. The announcer said, "While the storm has many of the characteristics of a hurricane, including the general form and wind velocities, we hesitate to designate it as one."
"In other words," Tony said, "it's a hurricane but we'll call it something else because it's too early in the season for hurricanes."
"Whatever it is, we'll have more of it," Zircon stated.
Rick switched to the Navy command frequency in time to intercept a conversation with a destroyer somewhere off the British Virgin Islands. The destroyer had just lost one of its boats.
At four minutes after six the air went silent, then a new voice took over the microphone. The voice said:
"A message for the ones who hunted blue sheep."
"That's us!" Rick gasped.
When Steve had dispatched Rick, Scotty, and Zircon to Tibet, it had been with the cover story that they were going to hunt the blue sheep called Bharals in the mountains of West China. Only Steve would know that. The message was from him.
Static crackled, but the message was clear:
"The one who started the hunt needs the biggest hunter. Only the biggest hunter. He should be delivered as soon as possible. Call your usual contact before arrival and say that the doctor is coming and to notify the patient."
The message was repeated, while the four strained to be certain they had heard every word. When normal traffic resumed, Rick switched the set off.
"It appears," Zircon said slowly, "that I'm wanted."
"Yep." Scotty grinned. "The demand is there, all right. But delivery is a long way off."
The storm punctuated his words.
The sky was overcast, ceiling about two thousand feet, visibility about two miles. The wind was moderate and steady. Rick examined the water in front of the cottage and told his friends, "I can take off all right. But I don't want to leave without a weather report or we might find ourselves with no place to land."
"I'm going to swap this radio for a newspaper," Scotty grumbled. He had been trying without success to get a weather report.
Tony Briotti looked at the Sky Wagon, brows furrowed, then asked, "Rick, couldn't you turn on the radio in the plane and get a weather report from the airport at Charlotte Amalie?"
Rick was climbing into the Sky Wagon before Tony finished. Of course he could! He called, "I'm a chump!"
The set warmed and Rick called the airport, then held the phones to his ears to hear the reply through heavy static. When the airport answered he asked for a weather report for the area between St. Thomas and Clipper Cay. He got it, and climbed out, his face thoughtful.
"The storm is having a pup," he told the others. "We're in a lull at the moment. The main storm swung off to the north, but there's another one right on its tail. We have just about time to get to Charlotte Amalie and back before the second one closes us in."
The group went into action fast. All four pushed the plane into the water. Zircon ran to pack a bag, and Tony went to get the film Rick had taken for Zircon to carry to Steve. Scotty and Rick went through the check list, inspecting the plane for possible storm damage. Then Rick started the engine and warmed it up. By the time they were ready, Zircon was climbing aboard.
Scotty yelled, "Tony and I will keep the home fires burning. Don't waste any time, Rick!"
"I won't."
Zircon closed the cabin door and Rick taxied out. In a few moments he was air-borne, swinging seaward over the north end of the island. He looked down and saw two of the frogmen. They were in front of the house, watching the plane.
"Be sure to tell Steve everything," Rick reminded the big scientist, "and don't forget to give him the film. I won't have time to see him, unless he meets the plane. But it doesn't matter, because you know everything Scotty and I do."
"I'll be glad to get actively to work on this confounded business," Zircon stated. "I'm so curious about that brass ball the frogmen had in the cave that I'm about to burst."
Rick set a compass course for St. Thomas, flying just under the clouds. When they were a half hour out he contacted the airport again and asked for the weather. The report hadn't changed. He told the airport operator, "The doctor is coming. Please notify the patient." He could almost see the operator jerk to attention as the headphones gave out a crisp "Roger."
He sat down on a heavy chop at Charlotte Amalie, and the Sky Wagon gave them a rough ride as he taxied to the pier. Lieutenant Jimmy Kelly was waiting in a Navy sedan with an armed guard in attendance.
Rick supervised the refueling of his plane at the pier gasoline depot, a task he would not delegate to anyone else. The presence of attendants made it impossible to talk to the Navy lieutenant.
As Rick tightened the gas cap, Jimmy Kelly said, "Hop into your great mechanical bird and shove off, birdman. You'll just about beat the weather home as it is. Don't stop to fish on the way."
"I won't. Professor Zircon will tell you an interesting story. And we'll be monitoring the command channel at six for any advice you can give us."
"Okay. Don't get your feet wet."
Rick waved good-by to Jimmy and Zircon, then taxied out to the clear area and took off. The ceiling was lower than on the trip in, and he almost missed Clipper Cay because of strong winds and low visibility. He spotted the southern tip of the island just in time to avoid going right on by. He landed with beads of perspiration on his forehead. If he had missed, with luck he might have hit Puerto Rico, but more likely he would have had to make a landing in the open ocean.
Scotty and Tony came to greet him.
"We were worried," Tony said. "It's closing in fast."
"I got a little worried myself," Rick admitted. "Anything new here?"
Scotty gestured toward the northern end of the island. "Our pals have been busy, diving. They got the brass ball, or whatever it is, and stowed it aboard their boat. I kept an eye on 'em through the binoculars. Also, I suspect they're going to do some more diving, because they left their equipment on the boat."
Rick didn't particularly care at that moment. The flight back had been something of a strain. "Let 'em go," he said. "We can't do anything about it, anyway—not in broad daylight. Maybe tonight we can take a look."
They spent the afternoon indoors, napping or reading, unable to swim or fish because the second storm had arrived on schedule. Then, a few minutes before six, Rick turned on the radio to the Navy command channel.
At six on the nose, the radio emitted: "A message for the blue-sheep hunters. The blue sheep seen by the big hunter and the little hunter is important. Obtain more information if possible. But remember that the owners of the sheep are also mighty hunters. The snapshots of the sheep were fine."
The message was repeated. When they were sure there was no more, Rick switched the set off. "Well, we're in it, and with Steve's blessing. Now what?"
Scotty shrugged. "Now we steal the brass ball. Didn't Steve's message say to get more information?"
"Apparently the pictures turned out well, if I understood that reference to snapshots correctly," Tony said. "Be serious, Scotty. What can we do next?"
"Keep an eye on the frogmen, I guess, and play it by ear. I can't see anything else to be done. We probably could steal their brass ball, all right, but they'd know at once who had done it because we're the only other people on the island."
"Have you looked recently to see what they're doing?" Tony asked.
Neither boy had. Both went to the front porch, but the frogmen's cottage was invisible through the driving rain. "We'll have to go see," Rick said.
"After dark," Scotty added. "In about an hour. It will be pretty dark then."
"Do you suppose the brass ball is still on the boat?" Rick inquired thoughtfully. "We might be able to sneak aboard after dark and get a picture of it from close up, and we could examine it and have something definite to report to Steve."
"That's a possibility," Scotty admitted. "Anyway, we can get ready."
Rick rechecked the camera and infrared unit. He loaded the camera with a fresh roll of film. Then the three sat in the living room over coffee and listened to the storm batter at the front of the house until it was nearly dark outside.
"What now?" Tony inquired. "Do we all go? Or just one of us?"
"No point in all of us getting soaked," Scotty said. "Have you had any experience in this kind of spying, Tony?"
The archaeologist had not. He grinned. "Until I came to Spindrift, I led a rather quiet, academic sort of life. Except for the war, of course."
"Then Scotty or I had better go," Rick said. "Or both of us."
Scotty shook his head. "No need for both. It's only a reconnaissance, anyway. Toss you for it."
Rick produced a coin. "All right. Call it." He flipped it as Scotty claimed heads. It was a tail.
"Best two out of three?" Scotty invited.
Rick grinned. "And after that, best three out of five?"
Scotty growled, "All right. I'll go." He got ready by taking off shoes and socks. He could change his shirt and shorts when he returned. He slipped through the back door and was gone.
Rick turned on the radio, tried for a weather report, and settled for a Miami disk jockey who was playing some good records. The static was bad, but the station came through clearly enough to make listening worth while.
Scotty was back before a half dozen records had been played. He sat down, ignoring the water that dripped from him. "Listen, our friends just rounded the northern tip of the island in the boat and they're heading south just inside the eastern reef. What do you make of that?"
Rick pictured the movements of the enemy boat from Scotty's description. "They can't be putting out to sea, otherwise they'd be outside the reef. And they're not interested in anything on the island or they'd have walked. I'd say they're planning to do some night diving on the eastern side of the island."
"In this kind of weather?" Tony asked incredulously.
"Sure. It's stormy on top, but once you're below the wave motion it's quiet as ever. They could dive."
Scotty stood up. "If they can, so can we."
There was no denial to that. They made a trip to the Water Witch and collected their equipment, then planned what they would do.
"We'll all use lungs," Tony said. "We have three regulators and there are plenty of full tanks, enough for two dives each. However, we have only two pairs of glasses for the dark-light camera. I'll yield to Scotty as the more experienced diver, so you and he use the glasses, Rick. I'll stay on top, or near the top, with a single float, and a gun. If I use the lung I can stay submerged most of the time and not have to fight waves."
"Lash yourself to the float," Scotty cautioned.
"And we'll use a buddy line," Rick added. "The same one the professor and I used. Scotty, you take a gun, and I'll take the camera."
"If I see any trouble in the making, I'll bang on my air tank," Tony said. "You should be able to hear that for quite a distance."
There was nothing else to be planned in advance. They picked up their equipment and went out the back door into the storm, crossing the island through the palms. As they emerged onto the eastern shore, Scotty called, "Look—about five hundred yards north."
The lights of the frogmen's boat, visible as bright halos through the rain, were tossing violently just inside the eastern reef. Apparently the boat was anchored. The rain was too thick for them to see any movement aboard, or to see details of the boat itself.
"Move carefully," Rick cautioned. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the storm. "We haven't explored this shore. It may be full of coral heads."
"I doubt it," Scotty returned. "It would be too dangerous for the boat in this kind of weather, even if they knew a channel."
"Rick's right about careful movement, nevertheless," Tony replied. "We must move with care, especially near the reef." He indicated his float. "I'll never be able to tow this through that water, so I'll leave it in the palm grove. We can pick it up on the way back. We shouldn't need it with lungs, anyway. Do you boys have rescue packs?"
The packs were plastic floats compressed into packages no larger than a cigarette pack. They contained a carbon-dioxide cartridge and could be inflated simply by squeezing them, which punctured the cartridge. The boys had carried them on their weight belts for so long that they took them for granted.
They donned their equipment, then walked down to the beach. The surf was not heavy, since the wind was blowing from the opposite side of the island. Nevertheless, there was enough water motion to lift a fine screen of sand and dust.
"The camera will be useless until we get into deeper water," Rick called. "Let's rope together and swim straight out."
They waded in, awkward in the fins, until they were deep enough for swimming. Then all adjusted mouthpieces and started out. Rick tried the infrared light intermittently, but not until they were in about twenty feet of water did the roiled bottom allow its use. He led the way to the reef, the others following in file.
The reef was closer to the surface than on the western side. Rick had to swim along it until he found a place where they could cross without being buffeted by breakers. Once across, he swam down the face of the reef, knowing that the trip was hard on Tony, because the underwater world was completely dark to one without light, or glasses with which to see the infrared illumination.
Rick found a fairly level shelf at about thirty feet and swam along it, keeping close to the reef wall, until he thought they were in the vicinity of the frogmen. Then he pulled twice on the tie rope in a signal to surface, knowing that Scotty would pass the signal along to Tony.
He emerged in a rough sea, only yards from the point on the reef opposite the anchored boat. He was in time to see two frogmen climb down the boat's ladder. They got into the water and the third man, on deck, lowered the brass object to them.
Rick had no fear that they would be seen from the boat. Their heads would be hidden by the breaking waves, and their bubbles would merge with the natural foam.
He saw at once what their tactics should be. He pulled Scotty and Tony to him, then let his mouthpiece drop. Putting his lips close to their ears, he said softly, "If it's like last time, they won't be down long. Scotty and I will track them to find out where they go, and watch what they're doing. Then, after they leave, we'll see if they left anything behind."
Scotty and Tony nodded. Tony untied the line that had held him to Scotty. Rick replaced his mouthpiece, cleared a little mist from his face mask, and led the way down.
This time the infrared light operated continuously. Now and then Rick worked the toggle switch through its loose plastic covering and shut the unit off while he searched for visible light. He found it, far down the face of the reef.
The camera made it easy, and his mind was at rest because this time nature had made it impossible for their bubbles to give them away to surface watchers.
There were heavy swells on the surface. He knew it because of the pressure surges on his ears. But otherwise there was no sign of the storm. He grinned because he suddenly realized that he felt dry. On the surface, with the rain beating at him, he had felt like a drowned kitten.
Moving with the confidence gained in his first experience, he led the way seaward, then went to the level of the light. Soon they were close enough to see the frogmen working over something on a coral ledge on the reef face. They hovered motionless, watching, and as one of the frogmen moved they saw that it was the brass ball.
Rick started his camera. He had an advantage, because the frogmen were concentrating on what they were doing, their backs to him. He moved in cautiously, camera grinding, then backed away again when he thought he had enough long shots.
One frogman moved away a few feet, and Rick's breathing stopped as the man's belt light flashed toward him. Had the frogman been looking, he could have seen the boys, but he was too interested in the second frogman's actions.
The second frogman crouched over the brass object, hand moving.
Rick recoiled as a wail lanced through his head with painful impact. He felt the rope tighten as Scotty involuntarily drew away.
It was not the octopus, then! It was the brass ball that wailed. But why? For what possible reason?
The frogmen were apparently satisfied. One of them picked up the powerful light they had been using and turned it off. Then, with only belt lights, they started back up the reef.
Rick waited until the lights were no longer visible. He glanced at his depth gauge and wrist watch. They were at eighty feet, and they had plenty of air left. He swam to the brass ball, camera grinding.
He had never seen anything quite like it. The brass sphere was mounted on a box about twelve inches square and six inches high. From the sphere, two rounded projections thrust out. He identified a waterproof switch on the box, and two small knobs mounted on calibrated plates. These were obviously controls, but he had no idea what they controlled.
Steve would want a few close-ups. Rick worked his camera focus and took shots from every angle. When he had enough, he pulled twice on the rope in a signal to surface. Scotty motioned to him to lead the way.
As Rick started up, four metallic clangs, irregularly spaced, rang faintly in his ears.
Tony, banging his tank in the signal for trouble! Rick instantly changed course and followed the bottom, watching the water overhead for any sign of the frogmen. When he had reached a spot below the point on the reef where Tony should be waiting, he turned toward the surface, moving slowly, searching for any sign of activity. There was no sign of whatever had alarmed Tony.
He paused a few inches under the surface, then carefully put his face into the air. Scotty surfaced beside him.
There was no sign of Tony. Rick peered through his mask and saw that the boat was still anchored in the same place. There were figures on its deck. Four of them—Four! He ripped his mask off for a clearer look, and his heart skipped a beat. The frogmen had Tony!
Rick and Scotty held a hurried consultation, mouth to ear.
"We'll have to get him," Scotty whispered urgently. He held up his spear gun. "I've only got one shot in this."
Rick's instinctive reaction was the same. They had to rescue Tony! But they also had a job to do.
"Wait," he cautioned. "They probably don't know we're here. Tony wouldn't give us away. If they find out, we'll lose the pictures, and we may make it worse for Tony. Let's stay right here and watch."
Scotty subsided. They floated motionless, eyes on the boat, peering to penetrate the mist. The rain had let up somewhat, but the air was far from clear.
Rick would have given the treasure they sought to be able to hear what was being said on the boat. The three frogmen were all facing Tony, and the conversation seemed to be pretty animated. Then, as he watched, the boat pulled up anchor. It moved north.
"They're taking him to their house," Scotty gasped.
The boys swam frantically for shore, recklessly crossing the reef without regard to the danger of cutting themselves on the sharp coral. They reached the beach and shed tanks and equipment under the palms, then raced for the frogmen's house.
They could see the lights of the boat as it rounded the northern tip of the island, and, lying among the palms, they watched it tie up at the pier. Tony and the three frogmen got off and walked down the pier. Rick strained to see, and could not find any sign that Tony was covered by a gun. But that wouldn't be necessary, anyway, since he was outnumbered three to one.
The four marched up to the front door of the frogmen's house and stopped. The boys were prone under a palm less than twenty feet away. One of the frogmen said, "Let me get a jacket. I'm getting chilled. Then we'll walk you home."
There was something very odd here! Rick nudged Scotty and they backed slowly away. When they were sure they could not be seen, they stood up and ran on silent bare feet through the palm grove, circling to approach their own cottage from the rear.
At the back door they paused. "Now what?" Rick said helplessly. "They're bringing him home. Why?"
"I wondered about that while we were running. I think they're bringing him home to check up on us. He must have sold them some kind of yarn."
"Steve's tail will recognize us!"
"Not if we're in bed," Scotty answered quickly. "We'll pretend to be asleep. Come on."
"Just a minute." Rick hurried to the shed and got two short hand spears. He handed one to Scotty. "Here. Have a bedfellow."
A few minutes later they heard footsteps and voices on the front porch. The door opened. A strange voice said, "Your friends don't seem to be here." The voice hardened. "I thought you said they were?"
"They're probably in bed," Tony replied mildly. "We go to bed right after dark because there's nothing to do."
"Except stick your nose in other people's business," a harsh voice snapped.
Tony replied tartly, "I've already apologized for letting my curiosity get the better of me."
"I'd like to see the bedrooms," a third voice said. Rick thought it belonged to the man they had taken off Steve's tail.
He lay motionless as a form blocked out the lamp-light from the living room. In a moment the voice said, "They're asleep, all right. They must sleep soundly."
"Young men do." Tony sounded relieved.
Rick grinned to himself. The archaeologist couldn't have known they were in bed, but his stall had worked.
"All right. We'll be going. But keep in mind that the most stupid thing anyone can do is to dive alone, even by day. At night it's worse than stupid. It's sheer insanity. Also, we'll thank you and your party to keep away from us and not gum up our recordings with your flipper noises and bubble sounds."
"We will," Tony said. "Good night."
The front door closed. Scotty rose, slid open the window, and went out. Tony scraped a chair in the living room. Rick stayed where he was, in case the frogmen had lingered outside. In a few moments he heard the back door open and close, and he tensed, but it was Scotty's voice that spoke.
"They're gone. I just wanted to make sure."
The three gathered in the living room, and Tony chuckled. "If I associate with you two for much longer, I'll get to be the world's champion dissembler."
"What happened?" Rick demanded.
"Simple and unlucky. The two frogmen surfaced practically under me. My own fault, because I had moved much closer to the boat. I think one of them almost fired a spear at me, but the other stopped him. They invited me to go aboard, and I didn't think it wise to refuse the invitation."
"I imagine not," Rick commented grimly. "Then what?"
"Naturally, they demanded to know what I was doing. I admitted to overpowering curiosity that got the better of my manners. They wanted to know who I was and why I was on the island. I told them the truth, of course, at least partly. I identified all of us. Then I'm afraid I told a slight untruth. I said we had found reference to the Maiden Hand in an old manuscript, and were diving in hopes of finding cannon and other old things which we planned to sell for museum pieces to pay for our vacation. I believe they accepted my story."
"It's a good story," Scotty approved. "Just enough truth to make it ring true."
"They've been watching us," Tony went on. "They asked why the plane had gone, and why it had come back with only the pilot. I told them Professor Zircon had cut himself and gotten a coral infection, and that the doctor at Charlotte Amalie felt that he should stay there for treatment."
"I guess they haven't recognized Scotty and me as the two who stopped Steve's tail."
"Seems not," Tony agreed. "Well, I admitted that I was still curious about their activities, since night diving is not common. So they told me a story."
The boys waited breathlessly.
"These gentlemen thirst for scientific knowledge," Tony said with a grin. "They claim an interest in ichthyology, but they know less about fish than any cat does. Their story is that they have developed an underwater recording device with which to make recordings of fish noises. Since they have some evidence that certain fish make their noises only at night, it is obviously necessary to make recordings at night. So they dive, leave their equipment, and pick it up the next morning. Our diving too close to their gadget creates false sounds, especially our bubbles. Therefore we are requested politely but firmly to stay away."
Scotty whistled.
Rick laughed. "Quite a story," he said.
"I pointed out the obvious," Tony went on, "that it was strange they should choose a stormy night. Their answer was that storms upset fish, and they thought it possible that some sounds might be obtained only under storm conditions."
"Very interesting," Rick remarked. "It's a good story, and if we didn't know Steve was after at least one of those men, we'd probably believe it!"
"Fish noises!" Scotty exclaimed. "If they knew we'd been snooping around before, they'd probably claim that the octopus really did wail, and that they were only recording him. Your gag about screaming squid and burbling barracuda would appeal to them, Tony."
The archaeologist chuckled. "Anyway, we got out of that one pretty well. I had a little trouble banging my tank. Didn't want to do it overtly, of course. Finally I managed to get in position while we were swimming to the boat, and I banged my tank against one of theirs. But how did you know what to do?"
Rick explained briefly, then he broke into a smile again. "These guys are smart," he declared. "I like that fish-recording story."
"It's appealing," Tony admitted. "I'm almost tempted to pay them another call tomorrow to ask if they have captured for posterity the hunting cry of the wild sea trout, or the love song of the gay sardine."
"But you won't," Scotty said practically. "You certainly came out of that mess with a whole skin, Tony."
Rick laughed. "He's adventure-prone. And lucky. How do you beat a combination like that?"
The storm blew itself out by noon of the following day, leaving an overcast sky and heavy swells. An inspection with the binoculars showed that all was quiet at the frogmen's house. Their boat was tied to the pier.
"They probably recovered the brass ball during the night," Rick observed, "or perhaps early this morning."
"The question is," Scotty remarked, "did they take the gadget to the octopus cave?"
Tony joined them on the porch in time to hear Scotty's query. "I can shed some light on that. It happens that I woke up at dawn and looked out to see how the weather was behaving. The frogmen were anchored off the eastern reef in the same place. We can assume that they picked up the brass ball and put it back in the cave near the wreck."
Rick rubbed his hand over his short hair in a gesture of bewilderment. "But what's their game? What do they get from the brass ball?"
"I rather imagine Steve Ames would like to know the same thing. If you boys have no objection, I think I'll spend the afternoon at my midden. What are you planning?"
Rick looked at Scotty. "Dive at the wreck?"
"Sure. Frogmen or no frogmen, there's still a golden statue of St. Francis somewhere down there."
After lunch the boys checked their equipment, being particularly careful because they had not rinsed out the regulators with fresh water after every dive. Their small supply of water, coupled with the odd hours at which the equipment had been used, was the reason. They took a little water from their supply and used it to clean the regulators. The rest of the equipment would just have to wait.
Tony departed for his Indian midden, tools slung over his shoulder. The boys started the compressor to fill the tanks used the previous night, then untied the Water Witch and headed for the diving area. Scotty scanned the frogmen's house through the glasses, but saw nothing of interest.
They anchored just outside the reef and looked for their buoy. It was gone, probably torn away by the storm.
"We can find the wreck again," Rick said. "No trouble. I could find my way around here in the dark." He grinned. "I have!"
"Shall we take a look in the octopus cave too?"
"A quick one. I doubt that we'd see more than we saw last night. Our job now is finding out what kind of information the frogmen get. And I don't know how we'll do that."
"Wait for a break," Scotty replied. "Come on. Let's get into the water."
It was cold. The storm had blown in colder water from the open sea. Rick felt goose flesh and wished they had brought along midseason suits.
The water was murky, too, because of the sand and silt stirred up by the storm. The murkiness started about twenty feet below the surface. Not until they were over fifty feet down did the water clear again. The light was reduced somewhat by the murk, but visibility was good. Rick had brought his camera to take motion pictures around the wreck. There would be enough light.
Scotty carried the big jet spear gun. It was powerful enough to spear sharks or big barracuda, just in case the frogmen decided to be "mischievous" again.
Rick led the way to the octopus cave, glancing up now and then to make sure they were alone in the water. The little octopus was in his usual position on the ledge.
Scotty, spear gun extended, swam right into the cave. Rick followed, holding the camera tightly to his chest to keep it from scraping on the coral. Scotty had his flashlight going, so Rick didn't bother with his own.
The cave was just about large enough for both of them. It was a typical coral formation, not much different from the reef outside, except that the brass ball was in the center of the rough floor.
The boys examined the cave thoroughly and saw nothing of interest. Rick pushed at Scotty's shoulder and swam out again. Scotty followed. The octopus watched them go.
The wreck of the Maiden Hand was just as they had left it, and the grouper was back in his comfortable cabin. He departed at high speed as the boys appeared. They had agreed to start work aft of the captain's cabin, and the wrecking bars were carried under their tank harnesses for the purpose. Both were convinced that there was nothing more to be found in the cabin, although the possibility remained that false boards in the floor or walls might conceal the statue.
Rick tied his camera to a projection, then took his wrecking bar and looked for a place to start. Scotty pointed to a place where there were boards aft of the cabin they had already uncovered, and they started to work.
By the time they had pried off the first few boards it was time to surface. They went topside and changed tanks, then rested for half an hour. There was no sign of activity at the frogmen's house, nor could they see Tony at work on his midden, since the location was hidden by palms.
Rick said thoughtfully, "The brass ball might be some kind of signaling device."
"What kind of signals?"
He didn't know the answer to that. "Anyway, since it's underwater, if it sends out anything it must be sound impulses. Otherwise we wouldn't hear it wail. And what good is sound if not for signals?" added Rick.
"Sonar," Scotty reminded.
The boys were familiar with sonar because of the Spindrift work on the Submobile. Very high frequency sound impulses were sent out, and the echoes were timed or used in other ways. It was the way in which bottom tracings were made by surface craft, and the way in which Navy ships detected submarines. It could be used for locating schools of fish.
"It could be sonar of some kind," Rick agreed. "But what good would it do anyone to stick a sonar device on an island like this?"
And there speculation stopped again, the question still unanswered.
They dove to the wreck and continued the hard labor of taking the aft end of the ship apart. When they finally got the new area cleared of rotted boards and timbers it was only to find a cabin already filled with sand.
Rick borrowed the spear from Scotty's gun and thrust it down into the sand. It slid in easily, meeting no obstruction. He probed with it but found nothing except more sand.
Discouraged, he wrote on his belt slate, "Mybe no bottm. Flr of cbn my be gne."
Scotty nodded. He lifted his hands in a gesture of inquiry. Now what?
Rick thought about it for a moment. Tony had been right! They probably would have to remove every board in sight, carrying the ship away piece by piece. But then what? There was the distinct possibility that the statue was somewhere under sand, and they had no way of removing the sand to see.
It was apparent that most of the ship was under the sand—if the remainder of the ship was still intact. But Rick couldn't escape the feeling that Captain Campion would have kept the statue close to him. And that meant in the aft part of the ship, the part that was exposed.
Scotty hooted twice, pointing at his watch. It was time to surface. The next dive would be their last for the day.
On the surface, Rick sounded discouraged as he said, "The cabin we uncovered might not even have a deck. There may be nothing but a mile of sand under it. And there isn't much of the aft part of the ship left to explore, either. I guess tomorrow we can plan to take the captain's cabin apart board by board."
"We'll need Tony and Zircon for hard labor like that," Scotty answered. "Notice how quickly you get tired down there? Also, we use air a lot faster when we work."
"Let's just sort of make a survey this time," Rick suggested. "We can probe for any cracks we might have missed, and I'll take some over-all shots of the wreck. Then we'll call it a day."
They followed Rick's plan. He took pictures of Scotty, with wrecking bar, prying at likely places in the exposed part of the ship. But Scotty uncovered nothing of interest. In one place his prying disturbed another moray, who demonstrated his anger at the intruders by trying to fasten his needle teeth in the wrecking bar.
A metallic clang caused them to lose interest in the eel suddenly. They looked at each other, then turned and swam toward the apparent direction of the sound. At that moment a distant wail struck their ears.
The brass ball!
Rick wondered. He had heard no boat noise. The brass ball must be operating automatically. He hooted for Scotty's attention, then pointed toward the cave.
Scotty checked his spear gun and motioned for Rick to lead. Rick pushed his camera in front of him and made his fins move rapidly. There might be some outward sign when the ball sounded, something that would tell them a little about its mechanism or purpose.
As the cave came in view he coasted, looking upward. The murky layer prevented his seeing very far, but there was no one in sight. He let inertia carry him toward the cave, then swung upright in the water as he saw that the octopus had moved a little distance from the cave mouth.
Instinctively Rick knew that something was wrong, but it was too late to get out of harm's way.
A frogman emerged from the cave, spring-type spear gun pointed directly toward them. The frogman held the brass instrument in his free hand.
Even as Rick hooted a warning, the frogman fired!
His spear lanced through the water directly at Scotty!
Scotty writhed to one side, and the fact that the frogman had fired from too great a distance gave him time to dodge. The spear went by, and Scotty lifted his own gun to return the shot.
Rick, senses suddenly acute, glanced upward again in time to see two more figures descending through the murky layer. He hooted for danger!
Scotty glanced up, too. Then, instead of firing, he sped forward and thrust the tip of his spear at the frogman's chest. The frogman lifted his hands high. Scotty jerked the man's face plate loose, then turned swiftly and motioned to Rick.
Rick followed, fins driving, as Scotty led the way into deeper water in the direction of the wreck.
The frogman who had been in the cave was temporarily out of things. His Scuba was the type that combined the breathing apparatus with the full face plate. He could clear the face plate of the water Scotty had let in, but it would take a little time.
Suddenly Scotty shot upward. Rick turned and looked over his shoulder as he followed. The second two frogmen were in clear water now, and both had spear guns!
Scotty led the way into the murky layer, then leveled off and swam horizontally. Rick wondered what kind of evasive action his pal was planning, but he followed without trying to communicate with the other boy. In a situation like this, Scotty's instincts were dependable.
Rick stayed close to Scotty in the murky layer, swimming at his side and a little behind. After a few yards Scotty dove again, into clear water. Rick looked around but could see no sign of the enemy. Apparently the frogmen had followed and were still in the murk.
Scotty shot downward, Rick at his side. The wreck was directly below them. Scotty didn't hesitate. He let his momentum carry him right through the grouper's front door into the cabin. Rick followed, half expecting to see Scotty and the grouper meet head on, but the fish hadn't returned.
Inside the cabin, Scotty switched on his flashlight, took his slate, and wrote, "Thyl thnk we wnt bk to bot. We sty hr lng nuff thy fnd out we nt thr & cm bck lkng fr us. Thn we go up to bot."
Rick nodded his understanding. It was good strategy, provided they timed it right. The frogmen would assume the boys had returned to the Water Witch when they went up through the murky layer. They would examine the boat, then dive down again. At that time, if he and Scotty could time it right, the two groups would pass in the murky layer and the boys would emerge while their enemies were still descending.
He looked at his watch. They had only a few minutes of air left. The frogmen would have more air, not only because they had entered the water after the boys were already on the bottom, but because they had not descended so deeply.
He wrote, "Rlax. Brethe easy."
The less effort they made, the longer their air would last. For a moment he debated suggesting that they share one tank by trading the mouthpiece back and forth, but that would leave one of them practically without air when they had to leave. He tried to imagine the movements of their enemies. The frogmen would be on the surface now, approaching the boat ladder with caution. They couldn't be sure the boys were not waiting in ambush.
Both boys had switched off their lights and were resting motionless in the darkness of the cabin. A little light filtered through the hole near the roof, but not enough to see by.
Suddenly the light was blocked out!
Rick reached for his belt knife and Scotty thrust the spear gun forward, then both relaxed a little. The grouper had returned.
The big fish turned at the opening and backed into his hole. He hovered in the opening, holding position while he stared out into his watery kingdom. Apparently the fish had no idea that the boys were in the cabin. When it came time to leave and they touched him or hooted at him, he would get the surprise of his life.
Even in their predicament, Rick could see the humor in the grouper's reaction. He wondered if groupers were subject to heart failure from shock.
Rick returned to trying to imagine the movements of the frogmen. Now they would be cautiously boarding the Water Witch, one up the ladder, the other climbing the anchor chain. They would be careful, still unsure whether or not the quarry was aboard.
He thought he felt constriction in his lungs from the warning signal that his air was running out, but finally decided it was only his imagination.
Now the frogmen would be aboard the Water Witch, making a quick search, spear guns ready to fire their lethal shafts. Now they would be in the cabin and shouting their disappointment.
Now the frogmen would be hurrying back into the water, readjusting their face masks, ready to dive.
The grouper shot out of the cabin with a flick of his powerful tail that raised the silt around them.
Rick's heartbeat faltered. The grouper had been alarmed. They had mistimed!
Right now, the frogmen were outside the Maiden Hand!