Rick and Chahda piled out of the galley at top speed, Rick grabbing Shannon's quiver from its hook as he passed. He quickly put the bow together and strung it, then swung the quiver to his back as he reached the deck.
Ahead was a line of vintas, already curving in an arc to trap them. Rick glanced behind and saw that other Moro craft were closing in. They would be surrounded this time, unless they chose to give up their pretense of a crippled engine.
"Chahda!" Scotty called. "Take the wheel so I can use my rifle."
The Hindu boy checked to be sure his knives were at hand, then took over from Scotty, who laid out extra clips and got ready to fire.
Zircon had extra clips for his pistol close at hand. He was watching the vintas through the long glass.
Rick put on his arm guard and finger protectors. Since the vintas were still out of bowshot he took a moment to beeswax his string. Then he took a small broadhead arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and drew a few times to unlimber his muscles, being careful not to let the string snap out of his fingers.
"What now?" he asked.
"We'll go straight ahead," Zircon answered. "Chahda, use nearly full speed on one engine. Have the second engine idling, but don't use it unless we get into serious trouble. Notice that the vintas ahead of us are running before the wind? If we can get through the line we'll have the weather gauge of them. In other words, they'll have to tack with the wind against them. We'll be able to get free easily on one engine."
Scotty pointed to a gap between a vinta with a solid purple sail and one with blue-and-white stripes. "There's a hole to go through, Chahda."
Rick saw that the vintas ahead were closing in. The Moro craft would be two deep by the time the MTB reached them. He loosened his quiver and made sure the arrows were free. He might have to shoot pretty fast.
His senses were unnaturally alert. The water was bluer than blue and the small patches of fair-weather clouds seemed brilliantly white. The sails on the Moro craft were gaudy, their crews properly fierce and picturesque. He was detached from the reality of the scene, as though this were some movie he was watching.
Zircon brought him back to reality with a jolt. "Pick off the helmsmen first!"
Rick could hear yells now, as the Moros saw that the Swift Arrow was almost within reach. He ran to the foredeck and knelt on one knee, arrow nocked and ready. Scotty climbed to the top of the pilothouse and lay prone, rifle thrust out.
The pirate yells were louder now, and some Moros brandished barongs or krises while others waved rifles. Rick suppressed a shudder. If the pirates got on board with those knives ...
The pirate fleet opened fire. A slug whined off a ventilator cowl a foot from Rick's head, but he forced himself to wait. It was still a little far for bow shooting. It was not too far for Scotty, however. Rick heard the sharp crack of his pal's rifle, and saw a Moro helmsman slump over in the nearest vinta. The craft sheered off. Another Moro jumped to take the helmsman's place and Scotty's second shot splintered the rudder handle in his hands.
A vinta closed to within twenty yards, an easy bowshot. Rick mentally timed the rise and fall of the craft on the swell. Then, as it broached slightly, he had a clear shot at the helmsman. Kneeling, he drew swiftly and loosed. The shaft caught the Moro in the hollow of the shoulder and pinned him back against the stern transom.
Rick reached for another arrow in the smooth rhythm Shannon had taught him, but the rhythm was abruptly shattered by a sudden blast almost in his ear! He whirled swiftly to meet the new threat, just in time to see Zircon open the breech of the saluting cannon and extract a smoking shell.
For an instant Rick wondered if the scientist had taken leave of his senses. He saw Zircon ram home a blank cartridge and close the breech.
Then, suddenly, the action made sense to Rick. For Zircon upended the cannon muzzle and poured in a box of tacks!
The scientist depressed the muzzle, sighted calmly, and pulled the lanyard. A swath of tacks spewed into the bow of the nearest vinta bringing a chorus of pirate yells. The craft swerved away.
Shouting with delight at the scientist's ingenuity, Rick jumped to Zircon's side. Working together, they fired box after box of tacks, and saw the vintas slowly clear the way.
The Moros could face cold steel or hot lead without a qualm, but the fierce, stinging tacks were too much, and too unexpected. They failed to press the attack at the crucial moment and the Swift Arrow slipped through the line.
As Zircon had predicted, one engine gave them enough speed to get clear, once the Moros had lost the advantage of a favorable wind. Scotty fired a few more shots at the vintas within range, then dropped to the deck. The fight was over.
The four gathered in the pilothouse and the three boys stared at Zircon with mixed admiration and amusement.
"It's nothing," the big physicist said modestly. "You see, in my lifetime I have been an avid reader. At one time, while at the university, I read of some round-the-world traveler using tacks in a signal gun. So I disclaim originality."
"My 'Worrold Alm-in-ack' not saying about this," Chahda said, grinning. "Is pretty lucky you have good memory for other books, Professor!"
Rick looked back at the vintas, rapidly falling astern. The pirates were well beyond gunshot now. "Victory at Sea," he proclaimed. "Thanks to the professor's college education!"
The Swift Arrow rode at anchor in the gathering dusk, inside a snug bay formed by a U-shaped island of the Kinapusan Group. The island was very small, and uninhabited. It was surrounded by larger islands that formed a kind of screen.
"Let's hope we can spend the night undisturbed," Zircon boomed as he finished the last of his coffee. "I could use a good night's sleep."
"We all could," Rick agreed. He helped himself to more of the stew Scotty had concocted. "Funny about a fight. That one was over in a few minutes, but I feel as though I'd done a day's work at hard labor."
"A perfectly normal reaction," Zircon replied. "Our minds and bodies are wonderful things. When we face danger our whole system goes into high gear, our endocrines pumping fluids that get our bodies ready for fast action, or for wounds. We operate at top physical efficiency. Then, when the danger is past and our minds signal that it's time to get back to normal, we show the effects of our overstimulation by a kind of lassitude."
That was true, Rick knew from his own experience. It seemed that he was always scared stiff before a fight, cool as could be during it, and limp as boiled lettuce when it was over.
Zircon changed the subject. "Scotty, when you first spotted the pirates, from what direction were they coming?"
The boy thought it over. "From about due south," he said at last. "But when they spotted us the line shifted to the east, on an interception course. They came from south originally, though."
"Not from southwest?" Zircon persisted.
"No. If anything, it was a little east of south, not west."
"Uhuh. That was my impression, but I wanted to be sure. Now, according to the chart, most of the scattered islands of the Tawi Tawi Group lie more westerly than south of here. If the pirates came from due south, it means they swung wide to miss the inhabited islands."
Chahda asked, "What means this to you, sir?"
"I'm not sure. I think it means we had better search the seas to the eastward of the main Tawi Tawi chain. The pirates would certainly have come from a westerly direction if their headquarters were anywhere near Tawi Tawi."
The big scientist rose. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm for bed. Who has the first watch?"
"I'm on the eight-to-midnight," Rick replied. "It's after eight now, so I'll stand by. Chahda relieves me at twelve, you come on at four, and Scotty finishes the night."
They had arranged the anchor watches that way because a single guard would be enough while at anchor, and it would allow each of them a good night's sleep.
Zircon and Chahda retired at once, but Scotty lingered. The two sat on the afterdeck and watched the stars for a few moments.
"How are we doing?" Scotty asked quietly.
Rick knew what he meant. "I'm scared," he said. "It's a big ocean, and we could miss easily. Also, I'm thinking about what Chahda said. Even if we find Shan, we won't get Tony and Shannon back without a fight. There must be hundreds of pirates, if the fleets we've seen are a sample." He was sure that the northern attack had been made by a different group than the one that attacked earlier in the day.
"Do you think they're still alive?" Scotty asked.
"We have to assume they are. What else can we do?"
"Nothing," Scotty replied sensibly. "Except say our prayers faithfully."
"Amen," Rick said. "Go on to bed. You must be tired."
"I am. See you in the morning."
After Scotty had gone below, Rick sat quietly, depending more on ears than eyes to keep watch. Again and again he reviewed every bit of information they had obtained, re-examining it to see if any nugget of value might have been overlooked. At last he decided they had done everything possible. The rest would be persistence, and luck.
His thoughts turned to home, and he wondered what his folks were doing. It was nine o'clock, Manila time. At Spindrift it was eight this morning. The family would be gathering for breakfast, and Barby would be slipping Dismal, the family pup, scraps of bacon under the table.
Rick resolved to send a cable from Tawi Tawi, if they should stop there. He knew the family would be anxious to know how things were going.
The watch ticked away without incident. A few minutes before midnight Rick woke Chahda and joined the Hindu boy in a glass of cold coke. Then he went to bed and drifted off to sleep immediately.
Some inner instinct awakened him. For a moment he lay quietly, his heart pounding, eyes blinking in the darkness. Then he heard the pad of bare feet as Scotty got to his feet.
"What's up?" Rick whispered.
"Just restless, I guess," Scotty whispered back.
Rick was wide awake now. He slipped into shoes and trousers while Scotty did the same. A few minutes in the cool air on deck would make him sleepy again, he thought.
"On deck!" Chahda gave a wild yell. "Come quick!" The words were punctuated by gunfire.
Instantly Zircon leaped to his feet and ran for the door.
Rick emerged into the lesser darkness of the deck in time to see Chahda fire at moving shapes on the water. The Hindu boy's shot was answered by a dozen rifles, and Rick heard Chahda gasp.
"Pirates!" Chahda yelled. "Where is light?"
For answer, Scotty switched on the boat's searchlight and swiveled it. Rick shouted. A dozen vintas were closing rapidly, propelled by paddles. Fleetingly he thought that some sound or sense of danger must have awakened him, then he grabbed for Shannon's bow, realized in the same instant that it would do little good in the darkness, and put it back.
Zircon took the pistol from Chahda while Scotty found his rifle. The two started a steady fire that was returned in ragged volleys as the pirates tried to shoot out the light. They came close, but the light stood undamaged. Rick thanked his guardian angel that they were poor shots.
It was obvious that even pistol and rifle fire could not keep the pirates from boarding. Rick jumped to the controls and started the engines. If they could only slip the anchor, it might be possible to ram through the pirate craft and find safety in the open water. But even as he borrowed Chahda's kris and started to run to the bow to cut the anchor rope, the first vinta slammed into the torpedo boat.
Dark figures swarmed up the sides with piercing yells. Rick ran to meet them, swinging the kris.
He realized vaguely that the pirate yells had turned somehow to screams that seemed anguished, but his thoughts were occupied only with getting the Moros off the deck. In the faint scattered light at the side of the searchlight beam he saw that they were dancing, wildly, like Indians in a TV horse opera!
Scotty joined him in the wild rush up the deck and the two boys hit the Moros at the same instant. Rick swung the kris like a flail, while the butt of Scotty's rifle slammed into bodies and heads.
The Moros turned with one accord and went over the side!
Zircon yelled, "Another boat back here!"
But Rick and Scotty had troubles of their own. Moros were pouring onto the deck from the bow, where another vinta had tied up to the anchor rope. They ran to meet the new attack, and were astonished to see the pirates go into the same screaming dance. Then they were fighting again, Rick wielding the kris with deadly effect, too frantic even to wonder why the Moros weren't fighting more fiercely.
From the stern came a wild yell from Zircon, a great bellow that had overtones of pain. Rick's breath caught. Had the big scientist gone down?
But the bellowing roar continued and he knew Zircon was still alive. Rick could do nothing at the moment anyway, except to swing the kris until his arm felt as though the muscles were on fire. Next to him, Scotty slammed home a butt stroke that lifted a pirate high off his feet and threw him outward into the water. It was an instant before Rick realized the deck was clear, then he turned and ran to the stern while Scotty reversed his rifle and shot the vinta clear of pirates in the glare from the searchlight. From the corner of his eye Rick could see the Moros from the bow vinta scuttling through the water toward other boats, and toward land.
At the stern Zircon towered like a mighty champion of mythology. Rick saw him lift a pirate bodily, pluck the barong from his hand, and throw him against two other pirates. At the scientist's side Chahda fought valiantly with his left hand, his flying barong glittering in the scattered back light of the searchlight. By the time Rick reached his friends the deck was clear.
Chahda ran and swiveled the searchlight, and Rick saw that the vintas were pulling away, amidst yells of rage from the pirates. Up on the bow, Scotty was shooting as fast as he could aim and pull trigger, with pauses only to slap a fresh clip into the rifle. The return fire continued, but without order or enthusiasm, and in a few moments it stopped altogether.
"They're gone," Rick said with relief. "Is anyone hurt?"
"Little bit," the Hindu boy answered. "When is time, maybe could use bandage."
Scotty joined the three on the stern. "I'll get the first-aid kit. Professor, are you hurt?"
"Like fire," Zircon answered grimly. "I'll never be the same again." He sank down on a convenient seat and began to examine his feet. "But let's get out of here and attend to Chahda when we're under way. They may attack again, if they can find shoes."
The comment baffled Rick, but he didn't stop to question. He hurried forward to pull in the anchor, and found a vinta still attached to the rope. For a moment he debated about cutting it loose, then realized that it would only be picked up by the pirates and used against them. He untied the vinta line from the anchor rope and temporarily hitched it to a bitt while he hauled in the anchor.
The vinta was light and easy to tow. He hauled it to the stern of the MTB and attached the line to a cleat. Scotty was already at the wheel.
"Go!" Rick commanded.
Scotty shot the searchlight beam toward the entrance to the harbor and put the engines in gear. The MTB moved with gathering speed, following the clear path indicated by the searchlight. Once the light picked up a vinta, but off to one side. Scotty gave it a wide berth.
As they cleared the bay, Rick got the first-aid kit and took Chahda down into the cabin. The Hindu boy's shoulder was covered with blood. Rick hurriedly cut way the clothes, afraid of what he might find. Zircon joined him, watching anxiously.
"Is not bad," Chahda said. "Just made me stop fighting for a few minutes."
Rick saw that the boy was right. A bullet had creased his right shoulder, digging a deep furrow from which the blood welled. It was painful, but at least they weren't faced with the problem of getting the bullet out. He sterilized the wound and bound it tightly with gauze pads. Then he washed Chahda clean of blood and put him to bed with a blanket over him in case of shock.
"How about you, Professor?" Rick asked. "You said something about being wounded, but I don't see any blood."
Zircon chuckled grimly. "Not much blood, anyway. How did you happen to be wearing shoes?"
Rick explained that he and Scotty had awakened before the attack and had gotten partially dressed to go on deck.
"Then you don't know," Zircon said. Suddenly he put his head back and roared with laughter. "Did you ever see anything weirder than those pirates dancing? I thought they'd gone insane in wholesale lots!"
Rick stared at the scientist. "I noticed," he said. "I wondered about it, too."
"But you don't know the reason!" Zircon pointed at Chahda, who grinned weakly from his bunk. "There's the cause of it all. He routed the enemy with minimum help from us, even after he was wounded."
Rick turned to stare at Chahda. "What's he talking about?"
The Hindu boy shook his head. "I was sleepy, and I afraid maybe fall asleep, which big disgrace. So what I do? I fix things to hurt pirates, but also I hurt Professor Zircon, for which I plenty sorry."
"But how?" Rick demanded.
"Oh, I remembered that in Jolo I never see Moros wear shoes. Not very many, anyway."
Zircon had mentioned shoes, too. Rick groaned with impatience. "What have shoes to do with it?"
Chahda grinned. "I borrow the professor's cannon ammunition. All around edge of deck I sprinkled, so when pirates come, they dance, and soon they have plenty."
Rick got it then. He sat down and laughed until Scotty had to stick his head in to see what was going on.
Rick pointed at Chahda. "The Hindu wizard!" he roared. "You know what he did? He sprinkled the deck with tacks! No wonder the pirates danced!"
There was an atmosphere of rising excitement on the Swift Arrow. Rick felt it, and knew the others did, too. Little by little they were narrowing the search. With only a few island groups remaining, he felt sure it would not be long before the pirate stronghold was located.
The Swift Arrow had poked its sharp bow into nearly every port in the vast Tawi Tawi Group, and had put into the port of Dungun on the main island to refuel. Since the pirate attack of two nights before, the Spindrifters had practically eliminated the Tawi Tawi islands as possibilities for the pirate hideout.
Hobart Zircon, checking their progress on the chart, called the boys together.
"There's only one island group remaining in this immediate area," Zircon pointed out, "and I'm not even sure it's in Philippines waters."
Rick studied the place on the chart indicated by the big scientist. There were only three tiny islands in the Datu Amman Group.
"They're pretty far to the southeast," Rick commented. "Just about on the border of Indonesia and the Philippines. Do we head for them next?"
Zircon poked a big finger at the chart. "I think we'd better. Then, if we find nothing, we can head southwest toward Sibutu Island."
"These Datu Amman islands aren't very big," Rick pointed out. "But that's the general direction from which the pirates have been coming. We have to eliminate every island in this area before going on to Sibutu and Borneo."
"We've got full tanks," Scotty observed. "Might as well get started."
"I think this also," Chahda agreed. "We not miss any islands. Besides, these far out of way, not on ship lanes. Could be good place for pirates."
"My thoughts exactly," Zircon stated. "Who has the wheel?... Chahda?... All right. Head southeast, and I'll plot a course."
"Why not use both engines?" Rick suggested. "Then we can get there before dark. If nothing turns up, we can travel all night from there to Sibutu. It's all open water."
"If we use both engines, someone had better keep watch from on top of the pilothouse," Scotty added. "Then, if we see vintas, we can throttle down. That way, we won't have to give up our disguise of being a partial cripple."
"Good idea," Zircon approved. "Suppose you start, Scotty? Rick can relieve you later."
Rick grinned. "That's what you get for having ideas. Tell you what, I'll toss you. Heads I take the first watch topside, tails I'll start making lunch."
"Sold." Scotty produced a centavo and they flipped. Rick won and climbed to the top of the pilothouse while Scotty went below to prepare sandwiches.
Rick sat in a canvas chair Zircon handed up to him and watched the sea, now and then sweeping the horizon with Shannon's long glass. The Swift Arrow cut the water cleanly, with both engines roaring at three-quarters throttle.
They were cruising the Celebes Sea now, the Sulu Archipelago rapidly falling astern. It was a calm, clear day without even a single whitecap to mar the blue perfection of the sea. Now and then a school of flying fish broke water from under the MTB's bow, and twice Rick spotted sharks, one of them a hammerhead. There were no vintas in sight.
Zircon handed up sandwiches and coffee, then relieved Chahda at the wheel. The Hindu boy's shoulder was healing nicely, but it was still a little stiff and he was careful not to move his arm more than necessary for fear of breaking open the wound.
The afternoon wore on without sign of a sail. Scotty relieved Rick, who relaxed on the afterdeck. The boy glanced at his watch. They should be picking up the islands soon.
Suddenly Scotty sang out, "Sail ho."
"How many?" Rick called.
"Just one. On the horizon, off the port bow."
Rick relieved Chahda at the helm, and the Hindu boy hurried below, saying that he wanted a cold drink before the fight started. Rick watched for the vinta sail, but before the craft was visible from his lower vantage point, Scotty called out again. "Land! Behind the vinta. Looks like a coral atoll. I can see the tips of palms."
Zircon checked the chart. "It should be the most westerly of the three islands," the physicist reported. "Scotty, any more vintas?"
"Just the one."
"Head for the island," Zircon instructed Rick. "We'll want a close look."
Chahda emerged from the galley with cold cokes for all hands, and they drank while waiting for the boat to get within examination distance of the island. It was clearly visible within a short time. As Scotty had said, it was a coral atoll, the highest point not more than ten feet above sea level.
They passed the vinta at a distance of a hundred yards. There were only three men aboard, and they were fishing. Then Rick cut closer to the island while Scotty kept a sharp lookout for shoal waters and coral heads.
Details were clearly visible now. There were a dozen huts on the island, and only a handful of people were visible. Zircon took the long glass from Scotty and inspected carefully, "Apparently it's a small fishing community. I see nets, and another three vintas pulled up on shore. There seems to be ... Wait!"
Rick watched as the scientist swung the long glass into the air, followed something for a moment, then lowered it, his face grim.
"I caught a glimpse of a man releasing something into the air, and managed to pick it up with the glass. It was a pigeon. And you know what that means!"
The boys did. "Which way did it go?" Rick asked.
"Due east."
Rick swung the MTB onto an easterly course without another word. He knew from the chart that the biggest island of the three in the Datu Amman Group lay that way. The third island was about ten miles to the north. Release of the carrier pigeon could mean only that the island they were now passing was a lookout position, from which the people on the biggest island had now been notified of their arrival. And that meant ... what? Rick had a good idea, which inspection should soon prove!
"Land ho!" Scotty called down. "It's a peak of some sort."
Rick saw it a few moments later, a golden glitter on the ocean as the fast-setting sun struck land.
The four watched as the land mass slowly took shape. "It's a mountain, all right," Zircon said, excitement in his booming voice. "Looks like a volcanic cone. Can you see it clearly, Scotty?"
"It's a cone, and not much land under it, either. Hey! Vintas ahead! Must be a hundred of them!"
Rick felt excitement surge through him. That was too many vintas for a simple fishing community on an island of small size!
"They're forming a line between us and the island!" Scotty called down a moment later.
Rick could make out the tips of sails, and as the Swift Arrow forged ahead, the entire fleet slowly came into view. Scotty was right. The vintas were in a line—like a planned defense!
The island was almost entirely visible, now. A volcanic cone, perhaps five hundred feet high, formed most of the island. From the base of the cone, flat land spread out toward the oncoming MTB, ending in a white beach.
"Get within gunshot of the vintas," Zircon directed grimly. "Let's see if they're really hostile. If they are, we'll know we've found something. And forget the crippled engine disguise. It's served its purpose."
Rick figured his course carefully. He would take the MTB on a gradually sweeping curve that would place them within gunshot, but in a position to beat a fast retreat. In a few minutes, now, they would be in position. He kept his fingers crossed. Things looked promising. If this were only the end of the search.
He throttled back a little, in order to keep a good amount of speed in reserve, and kept the MTB on the course he had planned, sweeping toward one end of the vinta line. He saw the outrigger craft back their sails as they turned to intercept him. Then, as the long curve brought him within rifle range he put the helm hard over, running broadside to the line of bright sails.
Scotty called, "Watch it! Heads down!" The boy was flat on the top of the pilothouse now, his own rifle within reach.
As an echo to his warning Chahda yelled, "They shoot!"
Rick couldn't hear the shots above the engine roar, but he took Chahda's word for it. He put the helm over again, turning the stern toward the line of boats.
Scotty jumped to the deck. "They took several shots at us, but none hit. I saw the muzzle flashes."
Zircon nodded. "I saw muzzle flashes, too. Lads, it looks as though we've really found something, including a mountain. Now, I suggest we reconnoiter thoroughly."
"What's your plan?" Rick asked.
"Circle the island completely, at close range. Swing wide, to approach from the north, then go around the island clockwise, staying as close to shore as safety allows. We can outrun the vintas without trouble. If necessary, we can even cut inside the line for a close look." The big physicist was almost trembling with excitement.
Rick wasted no time in swinging north, away from the vintas. Scotty went back to the top of the pilothouse to watch for shoal waters. Once he was far beyond the line of vintas, Rick cut back again, pointing the bow of the MTB at the northern shore of the island. He took out his handkerchief to wipe palms that were suddenly damp with nervous perspiration. This had to be the place!
He could see now that the volcanic peak occupied the entire eastern part of the island. It dropped steeply into the ocean on both the eastern and northern shores. The inhabitable land area was a broad shelf that sloped from the base of the volcano to the western shore.
As the MTB plowed toward the island more details became visible. There was a very small crescent of beach on the northern shore, but black volcanic rock dropped into the sea in most places.
"Let's see what the rest of this place looks like," Zircon directed.
Rick put the MTB on a curving course that would take them completely around the island, about a hundred yards offshore. They left the northern coast and passed the eastern edge of the island. Surf broke on the black volcanic rock on the eastern shore, except at one point where there appeared to be a fair-sized cove.
The southern shore was equally forbidding until the volcanic cone was passed. There was a large cove where the land shelf met the volcano. Docks could be seen, and a few vintas. Apparently this was the island's boat anchorage.
Zircon nodded his satisfaction. "We seem to have something here, boys. It's an ideal spot for a pirate stronghold. Notice they didn't try to follow us, or cut us off anywhere except on the west? That's because the island is a natural fortress, except for the western land slope. They need only look for trouble from the west."
The MTB was in sight of the pirate fleet again. They were still in a battle array to protect the vulnerable western shore. The line of vintas formed a long curve from a point just off the pirate anchorage around the western shore to where the volcano rose from the land shelf on the north.
"I'll stay out of rifleshot," Rick said. "Take a look at the village through the long glass, Professor. There may be some sign of Shannon and Tony."
"I'm not hopeful about that," Zircon replied. "They'd be under cover."
The pirates made no move to follow the MTB on its curving course around their battle line. Apparently the vintas were holding position in a planned defense. Across the vinta line, Rick could see a field of what appeared to be grain, separated by a street from a field of what was certainly corn. The village itself was of nipa shacks on stilts, all of them located near the volcano. There were a few trees, mostly mango and avocado.
"Plenty room for plenty pirates," Chahda commented.
Rick grinned mirthlessly. "You're so right." The village would provide housing for three or four hundred, anyway.
"No sign of volcanic activity," Scotty said. "It must be a dead volcano. Anyway, I don't think even pirates would be foolish enough to live under a live one."
"You're right," Zircon agreed. He waved a hand at the island. "Does anyone doubt that this is the right place?"
No one did.
"I not seeing scientists," Chahda observed.
"They wouldn't be in the open, anyway. But did anyone see their boat?"
"All boats were vintas," Rick replied.
"I thought so, too. However, I wouldn't expect the pirates to keep the Sampaguita in sight. Head back toward Tawi Tawi, Rick. We've plans to make!"
Rick returned the scientist's jubilant grin, then he turned to look back at the rapidly receding pirate island, the volcano black and forbidding in the gathering dusk.
"We'll be back," he promised the invisible scientists. "We'll be back!"
The Swift Arrow moved slowly through the darkness toward the Tawi Tawi Group. Chahda was at the helm, while Rick, Scotty, and Zircon held a council of war in the cabin. The Hindu boy kept popping in and out, letting the MTB travel with locked rudder for a few minutes at a time so he could be in on the conference.
"It has to be Shan," Rick said flatly. "No fishing village ever had that many vintas. And no peaceful fishermen ever fired on a stranger the way that mob fired on us. Besides, there's a mountain."
"I agree." Zircon examined his pistol barrel carefully, then ran a cleaning rag through it again. "Furthermore, those vintas operated in a planned defense, in a way no fishermen would ever do. I'm convinced that it is the right island. The problem now is, what do we do?"
Scotty paused in reassembling his rifle after a thorough cleaning. "Is there a choice? We can't rush the village and rescue our friends, even if we knew where they were. We'll have to get the constabulary, and the Philippines Naval Patrol, and mount an all-out assault on the place."
"No!" Rick exclaimed. "We can't do that. If the pirates saw an armed fleet approaching, they'd kill Tony and Shannon, and get rid of their bodies. The fleet would find nothing at all."
Chahda asked in quick alarm, "You think they kill scientists when we come today?"
"I doubt it," Rick explained. "After all, one boat isn't a threat to them, even a fast one like this one. I think they'd only get rid of Tony and Shannon if they saw they were going to be invaded."
"Then what can we do?" Scotty asked.
"I'm not sure. Anyway, the first thing is to see if our friends are really there. When we get some more facts, maybe we can work out a plan."
Zircon nodded. "That's sensible. The question is, how can we reconnoiter the island? Circling it in the boat again will only tell us what we already know."
"Only one way. We go look," Chahda pointed out.
Rick knew the Hindu boy was right. But getting ashore presented problems. If the MTB got within swimming distance, the pirates would see it. Of course they could row ashore by night in the rubber life raft the big boat carried. He suggested it to the others.
Chahda leaped at the idea. "Silent boat is good, Rick, but not rubber boat. You remember we still got vinta?"
"Of course!" Rick saw that Chahda had hit on the answer. They had left the captured vinta in a small cove on the shore of an uninhabited island a few miles to the north. "We can get it and tow it to easy sailing distance. The pirates won't think anything of a single vinta even if they see it. There must be boats coming and going all the time."
"That is what I think too." Chahda ran back to the helm.
"Won't they recognize the vinta?" Scotty asked, then answered his own question, "I guess not. I've seen a dozen sails like it, and the hull looks like all the rest."
"The plan might work," Zircon agreed. "We'll try it. First we get the vinta, then head south. By morning we'll be far out in the open sea. We can then make a wide circle and approach the island from the east. They won't expect us from that direction. Besides, only the western shore was guarded, so far as I could see."
Rick had a picture in his mind of the strip of isolated beach on the northern shore. If they could land there, no one would see them. Then they could climb over the stretch of lava between the beach and the land, or swim around to the point where the land began.
"I know the place," he volunteered, and told the others his idea, repeating it for Chahda's benefit as the boy reappeared at the cabin door.
Zircon thought it over. "It should work, unless they have a lookout posted at each side of the island. But we can't know that until we try. Frankly, I doubt it. I think they believe the island is safe on all sides except the west. Now, who will go on this reconnaissance?"
"Rick and me," Chahda said firmly.
"I'm going," Scotty stated.
Zircon held up his hand. "Wait. Chahda, from your tone of voice, you have a reason. What is it?"
"Plenty reason. This small island, so who goes ashore will be seen, I think. So, must be in Moro clothes. Professor, you and Scotty not good size for Moro. You too big, and Scotty has too wide shoulders. Rick is maybe a little tall, but not so wide. He can maybe stoop a little. Me, I perfect for Moro. Even same color."
"You're right," Zircon agreed. "No question of it. So curb your impatience, Scotty. Your turn will come and so will mine. Chahda, you take the lead in figuring out disguises for you and Rick. Scotty, you and I will take over the watch and get underway."
By morning the Swift Arrow, with the vinta in tow, was in Indonesian waters far from shipping lanes or fishing grounds. Zircon figured their position as 120 degrees 29 minutes longitude, and 4 degrees 21 seconds latitude. They had seen no sails for hours.
The MTB was allowed to drift while the group went about the business of making ready. Chahda had created a Moro cap for Rick from a piece of upholstery he had cut from a seat bottom. Rick had cut the seams in a pair of white duck trousers and laced them with twine from the rope locker until they fitted as tightly as Moro pants. One of his own shirts, dirtied up a little and left open at the collar, would complete his outfit.
Chahda cut one of his extra turbans in half and made sashes for both of them, and modified the wrapping of his own turban so that it was more like the flat Moro variety.
The only real problem was Rick's color. In spite of his deep tan he couldn't possibly pass for a Moro. He and Chahda searched the boat for something that would serve as a stain, then finally took their problem to the others.
Scotty had the answer. With a broad grin he went to his suitcase and drew out a can of brown shoe polish. "Neatness pays," he proclaimed. He passed it to Chahda with a flourish. "Don't give him too high a gloss when you polish him."
"How about shoes?" Zircon asked. "The polish reminded me. The pirates don't wear any."
"This pirate does," Rick declared. "I'll rub the shine off, but I can't go barefoot."
"Also," Chahda agreed. "Foots too tender. We could not run or fight in barefoots."
When everything was in readiness except for the application of polish, Rick and Chahda took time to eat, then got into the vinta and began practicing.
The craft was filthy, from years of accumulated dirt and no cleaning, and it offended Rick's nose. But more than that, it was hard to handle. He could sail in conventional craft, but the outrigger design had its own peculiarities.
Slowly, as the day wore on, the two boys learned the Moro craft's ways until they could handle it fairly well. There were paddles, in case the wind failed, and Rick thought they might end up using the paddles, anyway.
As they tied up after the last practice run Zircon called them to eat, then instructed them to get some sleep. None of the four had slept more than an hour at a time since the previous morning, but the big scientist and Scotty had decided to handle the MTB themselves on the way to the pirate island, so Rick and Chahda could be fresh for the night's adventure.
After a meal of hot soup and crackers, the two boys climbed into their bunks and drifted off to sleep. Zircon and Scotty had already started the run toward Shan.
Rick awoke with Scotty shaking him. "Time to rise, old son."
The boy swung to the deck. "Where are we?"
"About five miles east of the island." Scotty shook Chahda and told the Hindu boy it was time to get up, then he sat down next to Rick. "I feel funny, not going with you. Maybe I'd better go along. I could stay in the vinta, and be ready in case of trouble."
Rick gave his pal a sympathetic grin. He knew how Scotty felt. "Look at it this way. If Chahda and I get caught, that leaves only you and Zircon. And you couldn't give up, even with us out of the picture."
"I guess so." Scotty gave in reluctantly. "Come on. Coffee and sandwiches waiting. I'll go topside and help the professor keep a lookout."
Rick and Chahda got into their outfits, then the Hindu boy carefully rubbed in polish on Rick's face, neck, arms, and hands, and his chest where it showed through the open shirt.
Finally the Hindu boy stood back and admired his handiwork. "Plenty good. You make fine Moro, Rick."
Rick adjusted Chahda's kris in his sash. "So are you. You'd fool the Sultan of Sulu himself."
"We be two Datus," Chahda said, grinning. "Datu Rick and Datu Chahda."
"What's this date business?" Scotty asked as he came down from the pilothouse.
"Is Datu, not date. Datu is what Moros call Chiefs. We Datus."
"Okay, Datus. The professor wants a look at you. I'll go take the wheel while he comes down. We're blacked out topside, just in case there's a lookout on this side of the island."
In a moment Zircon came down and inspected them carefully. "You'd never pass in daylight, Rick," he said finally. "But at night there should be no trouble unless someone gives you a close inspection—in which case you'd be caught, anyway. Now, have some coffee and sandwiches while Scotty and I move the boat in closer."
Rick said doubtfully, "Isn't it dangerous to get too close?"
Chahda chimed in. "In 'Worrold Alm-in-ack,' says can see pretty far at sea. Volcano is maybe five hundred feet. Man on top can maybe see 25.6 ocean miles, says 'Alm-in-ack.'"
"True." Zircon smiled. "But that would be in daylight, with absolutely clear visibility. You recall that we didn't see the island yesterday until we were perhaps ten miles away? Water vapor in the air cuts down visibility here, and at night of course it's even less. If we're blacked out, I think we can get within two miles with safety. Fortunately, the moon set shortly after sunset. So our principal problem will be guessing how far away we can be heard. At low speed, on only one engine, I think two miles will be safe."
The professor had been figuring things out, Rick realized. He nodded approval. "All right. We'll be ready by the time you're in position. I'll leave my Megabuck unit on the boat, and we'll depend on Chahda's. Then, if we get caught, you and Scotty will still have two sets."
"You won't get caught," Zircon stated emphatically. "Don't even entertain the idea. I'm sure you can outrun the pirates. If you're spotted, call us, then get to the shore. We'll come roaring in. Also, I want you to take the pistol and extra clips. Then, if need be, you can hold off the mob for the few minutes it will take us to get there."
"All right." Rick didn't really believe they would be caught. Chahda was an expert at reconnoitering, and he had had plenty of experience himself. Besides, it was good to be moving into action, no matter what the danger. They had searched for a long time. Now, their missing friends were within reach. He had to believe that because the alternative was to think they were dead.
"Let's eat, Chahda," he said. "Almost time to go."
The Celebes Sea was dark, with a low swell but no chop. There was just enough wind to fill the vinta's sail, which suited Rick. At this stage in the proceedings he was more concerned about silence and safety than speed. Zircon and Scotty had moved another mile seaward as soon as the vinta was launched. That was to avoid anyone on the island hearing the engines in case a sudden onshore wind came up.
Up ahead, Chahda was a dark blur against the sail, trimming it for maximum efficiency. Presently the Hindu boy came back to the tiller and sat down near Rick.
Shan's volcanic cone blotted out the stars ahead. There were no lights of any kind on the mountain itself, and the number of lights in the village was gradually diminishing.
The water splashed a little under the rudder, and the cordage holding the mast and sail creaked as a vagrant breeze caught the vinta. Otherwise, there was no sound. Once a fish jumped nearby, and Rick was halfway to his feet, hand going to the pistol at his belt, before he realized what it was. He smiled at his own tenseness.
Rick wiped moist palms on the thighs of his tight pants and strained to see the first sign of the beach on which he and Chahda would land. Chahda, according to plan, moved to the bow of the Moro craft in order to keep a lookout.
The timing was all right, Rick thought. There were still lights in the village, but not many. Early, when too many pirates were out of doors, would not be a good time. Later, when perhaps only guards were moving around, would be even worse. They had tried to time their reconnaissance for an in-between period, and it looked as though the selection of the hour was good. Most villagers were in bed, but enough kerosene lamps and candles burned to show that the two of them probably would not attract special attention by being out so late.
Chahda came back and whispered, "We drop sail now."
"Okay." Rick was careful to keep his voice at a whisper. He knew sound carried across the water.
The boys let the sail down and lashed it just enough to keep a sudden breeze from tangling the lines, then took paddles and steered for the small crescent of beach that made a light streak between the sea and the black rock of the volcano. The lights of the village were gradually lost as the jutting rock between the beach and the western land slope blocked their view.
Rick and Chahda timed their paddle strokes to catch a low wave as it sped to shore, and in a moment the vinta's bow grated on sand. Chahda jumped to shore, carrying the craft's anchor—a block of stone with a hole in it for the rope—and hauled the vinta's bow up on dry coral sand. Rick stepped to the sand and paused, ears tuned for any unusual noise. He heard nothing except the sharp barking of a dog in the village.
"If this is like most Asiatic villages, there'll be enough mutts to make it a dog catcher's paradise," he whispered in Chahda's ear. "They'll give us away sure!"
Chahda shook his head. "Leave to me. Have plenty sad experience with dogs. I come ready for them."
Rick wondered how the Hindu boy was prepared, but he realized this was no time for questions. He put his lips close to the hidden radio unit under Chahda's turban and called softly, "Rick to home base."
"Go ahead, Rick," Zircon's voice said faintly through the heavy folds of turban.
"We're on the beach, about to leave the vinta."
"Good luck. We're standing by for a fast run if needed. Be careful."
"We will," Rick promised. "Off for now." He drew the automatic from his sash, pulled back the slide, and let it carry a round into the chamber. Then he lowered the hammer to half cock and made sure the safety was on. He tucked the pistol into his sash, and loosened the kris in its sheath.
Chahda drew his barong and made a few practice swings. The blade gleamed in the starlight.
Rick led the way, westward along the beach to where the black lava rock lay in tumbled masses. If they could climb across the tongue of lava, all would be well. If not, they would have to return to the beach and swim around it.
The lava was in big chunks, and there were ample hand and footholds. It was an easy climb to the top of the flow, only about twenty feet above sea level, and an easy climb down again. The only hard part was moving across the top of the flow, through the mass of lava boulders.
Presently the two boys stood on soil, still hidden among lava outcroppings. The village was to their left. In front of them, to the west, was a cornfield. Rick wasn't surprised to see the corn. He knew that from the central Philippines south to Sulu there was more corn eaten than rice.
"Keep an eye open for a guard," he whispered to Chahda. "We'll wait a few minutes to see if one shows up. Then, if it seems clear, we'll move along the edge of the cornfield toward the village."
"Good plan," Chahda agreed.
Rick strained to catch sound or motion. When his luminous watch dial told him five minutes had elapsed, he leaned toward Chahda. "No sign of a guard. Let's go."
Apparently the pirates were sure attack could come only from the west, as Zircon had thought.
Undoubtedly they had lookouts on the western shore.
Rick led the way, keeping close to the abrupt rise of the volcanic cone. He saw there were plenty of gaps and holes in the lava into which they could duck, as well as the cornfield. Knowing they could be out of sight in a matter of seconds gave him confidence, and he moved rapidly ahead.
A slight breeze brought him the scent—or rather stench—of the village. He wrinkled his nose and suppressed a sneeze. Wow! If the pirates possessed any virtues, cleanliness was not one of them.
The cornfield ran right up to the edge of the village, which was nestled under a point where the volcano dropped steeply for perhaps a hundred feet. It was a good defensive position, Rick saw. The black lava cliff probably could be climbed, and would offer a wonderful location for riflemen. Even heavy weapons would have a hard time dislodging them.
Ahead was a kind of street, a wide gap between rows of houses. Some of the houses showed the yellow flickering light of candles or kerosene lamps, but most were dark. The houses were raised up on piles, in the fashion common throughout the Philippines, and most of them offered little obstruction to the view.
Rick shrank back as a man walked down the street, turned, and went up a ladder into one of the houses. In the dim light Rick could see that he had tight pants, a flat turban, and a rifle in his hand. The boy shuddered. There probably were enough deadly weapons in the village to outfit a regimental combat team. One slip and those weapons would be turned on them.
Chahda put his lips close to Rick's ear. "What we do now?"
"Look for a house with guards, I guess."
It seemed the only possibility. If Tony and Shannon were in the village, they would almost certainly be guarded. Guards probably would be the only clue to their presence.
For long moments Rick debated on how best to approach the problem. There wasn't any easy way. He tapped Chahda on the shoulder. "Let's go."
The two boys stepped out from their concealment against the volcanic wall and walked boldly into the village.
Rick had his fingers crossed for luck, but he was ready to uncross them in a hurry and go for the pistol in his sash. Their disguises had to protect them from casual viewers. He had confidence that the deep shadows of the village would conceal the fact that they were strangers, unless they came face to face with someone.
The street paralleled the face of the volcano, with houses on both sides. For the first few steps they saw no one, then far down the street a Moro crossed, and it took all of Rick's courage to keep walking casually ahead.
Nearby a dog barked, and the noise sent a stream of sweat dripping down Rick's back. The barking continued, drew nearer. Rick half drew his kris, but Chahda whispered hoarsely, "Wait!"
A mongrel of indiscriminate breed sidled up to them, hackles raised, teeth gleaming faintly in a snarl. Chahda bent low and murmured. The dog leaped frantically, and Rick's heart caught in his throat. Then the Hindu boy miraculously was petting the vicious mutt.
"What did you do?" Rick demanded in a whisper.
"You remember canned hombargers? I open can and put some in my pocket. Feed one to dog. He our friend now. Come on."
Rick had to grin. The mysterious Hindu! Behind the mystery was a practical solution to problems. Just stick a couple of "hombargers" in the pocket.
The boy led the way again, Chahda hurrying to catch up. Beside them, the once-fierce dog gamboled like a puppy, hoping for another handout.
In a few moments Rick saw that the two streets of the town formed a huge T, with the stem starting under the mountain and running toward the west. He had an idea that Tony and Shannon would be near the center of the village, in the most protected position—simply because it would be easier to guard them that way. That meant they would be close to the intersection where he and Chahda now stood.
A poke in the ribs from Chahda took his mind off the problem in a hurry, and put it on a new and immediate one. A man was walking directly toward them, coming from the direction of the western shore. Rick couldn't see him clearly; it was too dark in the village. But he could see enough to know that the pirate carried a rifle and had a barong tucked into his belt.
Rick's hand started for the pistol, then paused. He couldn't shoot now. It would bring the whole village down on them. For a moment he nearly panicked, then with a nod to Chahda he walked directly toward the man. The bold approach was the best one, he figured. To run was to bring a shot. He had a vague idea of getting within range, then jumping the Moro. Certainly they couldn't stop and talk with him; neither of them knew the language.
The pirate didn't seem uncertain, or alarmed. He walked toward the two boys casually, obviously not yet recognizing them as strangers. He would soon, Rick knew. It was important to get the jump on the Moro first, and prevent him yelling, if possible.
Then, as Rick prepared for a wild spring and a roundhouse punch, Chahda whispered, "Be ready," and lifted his hand in salute. The Moro lifted his hand, too, and said something in the native tongue. It might have been a greeting; neither boy ever knew for sure.
Chahda walked right up to him, muttering something that was probably Hindu double talk. The Indian boy moved so that the Moro swung around, trying to understand what Chahda was saying.
For an instant the pirate's back was to Rick. He moved like a charging panther. The pistol came out of his sash and descended barrel first, all his desperate strength behind it. He felt it slam down on the pirate's turban and connect solidly with the head underneath.
Chahda caught the man as he fell, and in an instant the two boys had hauled him under the nearest house.
Rick found the man's pulse and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. It was thready and slow, but it was there. The pirate would wake up, but not for some time. The dog sniffed inquiringly at the fallen Moro, but made no noise. Rick took Chahda by the arm and pulled him out into the street again, pausing anxiously to see if the brief and violent meeting had attracted attention. Apparently it hadn't. There were no signs of life in nearby houses, and no one looked out of those with lights farther along the street.
Rick decided they had better conduct their search with all possible speed. The boys moved rapidly along the street at the top of the T, toward the waterfront on the south. The dog trotted alongside, their firm friend now. Rick knew the boat dock must be at the end of the street. That would certainly mean guards, and it wouldn't be wise to go too close.
He had a sudden thought that the scientists might be prisoners on one of the vintas, then rejected it. No vinta they had seen was big enough to serve as a prison, and there had been no sign of the boat the missing men had rented. That could also mean the scientists weren't even on the island. But if not, where could they be?
Chahda's hand on his arm stopped Rick. He saw that they had nearly completed their inspection of this particular street. The masts of vintas and the sheen of water among the pirate craft were visible directly ahead.
He put his lips close to Chahda's ear and whispered, "Let's cut west, through the houses."
Rick's idea was to go through the quadrant of town they were now traversing, until he saw the waterfront on the west. Then they could cross the street that he pictured as the stem of the "T" and turn back toward the mountain, going through the town on the other side. That way, if any trouble developed, they would be only a few yards from the cornfield, and could certainly lose themselves until Zircon and Scotty could come roaring in.
They passed under a lighted house, and through the split bamboo floor laths they could see two men drinking basi, or some other native beverage, from sections of bamboo. Now and then the two men talked in casual, drowsy tones.
Nowhere was there a sign of guards until Rick and Chahda passed completely through the village and emerged under the great branches of a mango tree. Ahead of them was a field of grain, probably millet, and beyond it was the western shore of the island. As they watched, two men walked along the shore toward each other, met, chatted for a moment, then turned and walked away from each other again.
"Guards," Rick said softly. "Walking their patrols along the beach."
It was as he suspected. The two guards, patrolling the beach, could see everything that offered danger by walking from where they had met to points roughly halfway around the island.
"Maybe they see us in the vinta," Chahda whispered. "But maybe they no think much about it."
Rick thought he might be right, but the greater probability was that they hadn't been seen at all, especially if they had approached the shore while the guards were walking toward each other near the western end of the island.
"We'll be a little more cautious on the way back," Rick returned softly.
"Is so," Chahda agreed. "What we do now?"
Rick motioned toward the street that led from the volcano to the western shore. "Cross that and look at the houses on the other side. Come on."
With a quick look around to be sure no one was watching, or showing any undue interest in them, he moved out from the shadow of the mango tree and headed past the irregularly placed houses to where the wide strip of yellow dust marked the street.
They reached the street's edge without incident, and paused for another quick look before crossing. As Rick glanced up the street a flicker of yellow high in the air caught his eye. He lifted his head and stared directly at it. A fire! It was high up on the face of the cliff behind the village, where they couldn't have seen it from the street under the cliff.
He wondered. Was it a beacon for pirates who might be out in the vintas? Apparently it was on a shelf of some sort more than a hundred feet above the village.
Then, as he watched, a tall, thin figure passed in front of the fire and was silhouetted briefly against the flames.
He grabbed for Chahda. That was no Moro, not with those long legs and arms! And no Moro on this island would wear thick glasses, from which the firelight had glinted momentarily.
That was Howard Shannon!
The boys crossed the street, crept past several houses, and gained the safety of the cornfield. Slowly, so that rustling leaves and stalks would not give them away, they crossed the cornfield. To Rick, at least, it was a terribly long and slow journey. He wanted to give a yell of joy and triumph. He wanted to call Zircon immediately and pass on the good news. But he knew silence was important, and he kept his exultation locked inside.
As they reached the lava flow Chahda gave the now-faithful pirate dog the last of his hamburgers, and the boys climbed across the lava to the beach. Only then did Rick dare to stop long enough to call the Swift Arrow.
"We found Shannon," he said triumphantly. "Now we have to get out of here. We'll give you the details later."
The boys pushed off in the vinta and paddled toward the east in order to get farther away from the guards before putting up the sail. Then, because the slight breeze had shifted, it was necessary to tack the cranky craft until dawn was pale in the east before they reached the Swift Arrow.
As the MTB moved quietly south, out of danger, Rick reported. "We saw Shannon, as I told you on the radio. I'm sure it was he. They're on the cliff at the back of the village. I'd guess the shelf where we saw the fire is over a hundred feet up."
"No sign of Briotti?" Zircon asked.
"None at all. Of course we couldn't see onto the shelf. There wasn't enough light and it was too high."
Scotty rubbed his chin. "How did they get up there?"
"Must be ladder," Chahda answered.
"A pretty good prison," Zircon commented. "No danger of escape, once the ladder or steps were removed, and the whole village serves as guard. The big question is, how do we get them out of there?"
Rick had thought about it during the tedious trip back. He had turned over every possibility in his mind and eliminated all but one. What's more, he wasn't sure that would work.
"I have an idea," he explained, "but it depends on a daytime look at the island."
Zircon nodded. "All right. We'll take a look. Now, tell us about the village. Any trouble?"
The two boys gave Zircon and Scotty a quick account of their reconnaissance, and both chuckled at Chahda's trick of feeding the dog.
"He'll probably be standing on the beach waiting when you get back," Scotty said with a grin. "Bet it's the first hamburger the pooch ever had. That pirate you belted with the pistol bothers me, though. Won't he set off an alarm that will put the whole mob on the alert?"
"I hope not. There's a chance he might think it was someone in the village who has a grudge against him."
Zircon shrugged. "One way or another, there's nothing we can do about it now. We'll have to assume the whole place is alerted."
"How about some sleep?" Scotty suggested.
Rick shook his head. The first part of his plan had to be put into operation immediately. "It's only a little while to dawn. By sunrise we have to be east of the island."
He explained quickly. For a safe, undetected look at the areas of the island he wanted to see, they would have to depend on the sun for a shield. They could proceed immediately on a roundabout course that would bring them to the east of the island just as the sun was rising. Hidden in the sun's glare, they would have a few minutes in which to examine the eastern slope of the volcano.
"I'm beginning to see your plan," Zircon said. "Then what?"
"Then we go into safe waters for the day. At sunset we hide in the sun again, while we look at the island from the west. We'll wait until the sun is low enough, so no one on the island will be looking into it, then we'll use it for a shield and take a good look at Shannon's cliff dwelling through the long glass."
Scotty shook his head. "But we already know what's on the eastern and western shores. Why go to all this trouble?"
"We don't know much about the terrain. If it looks possible, you and I go climbing tonight. We land on the eastern shore, climb the volcano, go over the top and down the western side until we come out right above the shelf where the scientists are held prisoner. Then we haul them up on a rope."
Scotty stared at his pal. "Wow! We take them out by the back door, huh?"
Zircon held up his hand. "Not so fast. The plan is a good one, Rick. I won't mention my natural dislike of being dismissed from the scheme without being consulted, because you and Scotty are the logical ones to go for a reconnaissance of this kind. But I'll buy only this: You and Scotty will look over the terrain tonight. If possible, you will deliver a Megabuck radio unit to Shannon and Briotti. Then you will return without attracting attention. That will be time enough for us to plan the rescue, in conjunction with our friends on the cliff."
Rick had to admit Zircon's plan made better sense, even though he disliked the idea of another day's delay in rescuing their friends. He nodded.
Scotty rose, his pleasure at the plan evident in his wide grin. "Let's go!"
Fifteen hours later the Swift Arrow withdrew to the open waters to the south as the sun slowly fell below the horizon. The four adventurers gathered around the chart table and studied the island of Shan, comparing notes.
Zircon used a pair of dividers as a pointer. "This cove on the eastern shore looks like the best possibility for anchoring the vinta, and I'd say the climb up the volcano from there is no harder than from any other place."
Rick agreed. "It looked that way to me, too. We'll call that cove our back door. The only real puzzle is, does the volcano have a crater? If so, we'll have to go around it. Climbing down into the crater and up again would use up too much time."
Zircon shrugged. "We have no way of telling. Did anyone notice a preferred way around the cone?"
"The southern slope looks a little less steep," Scotty volunteered.
Chahda nodded agreement. "I also think this. To me, big trouble is place right above cliff. Is pretty steep, I think."
The Hindu boy was right as usual, Rick thought. He had seen through the long glass that the area above the steep cliff was only slightly less vertical than the cliff itself, with an occasional shelf of rock. Not only would that be the hardest part of the trip, he guessed, but the most dangerous, since they would be in sight of the village part of the time.
"It's steep," Scotty agreed. "I'd say it's not a place to pick for a casual stroll, but I can't think of any other way to get our friends off that shelf. Can you?"
The others shook their heads. They had discussed it at length during the daylight hours while they floated patiently in the waters south of Shan, alternately sleeping and preparing for the night's work. Since no other plan seemed even remotely feasible, Rick and Scotty were to make the first try in about two hours.
The time passed swiftly with last-minute preparations. The boys carried rope, heavy spikes to be used as pitons on particularly difficult places, flashlights taped so only a pinpoint of light could emerge, cans of water from the emergency rations, work gloves from the clothing locker, and candy bars for quick-energy rations.
In addition, Rick had Zircon's pistol, a takedown fishing rod, with reel and line, a radio unit, and the long glass. Scotty had his rifle, a small first-aid kit, and a wooden caulking mallet.
The two boys were having a last cup of coffee when Chahda came down from the upper deck. "Is time," the Hindu boy told them. "We two miles east of Shan. Good wind. You make good time going in, not so good coming back."
The boys finished their coffee and went on deck. The four shook hands all around, and Zircon cautioned, "Give yourselves plenty of time for the return trip. Remember that if you're late, you'll have to hide on the volcano all day!"