“Aye, aye, Captain.” He took the tiller.
Biff stood up, stretched his body, then settled into a more comfortable position. He fought off sleep, but knew he dozed now and again in short, five-minute catnaps. He was never far from consciousness, though. And if anything happened—say a quickening of the wind—he would have been alert immediately.
At two o’clock, a widely yawning Tom Brewster emerged from the cabin, followed by Hank Mahenili.
“All right, boys. We’ll take over now. Get some sleep. At this steady pace, we’ll reach Upolu long before daylight. We’ll drop anchor, then set out again at daybreak.”
Upolu is the northernmost point on the Island of Hawaii.
Biff and Li were asleep the moment they hit their berths. It seemed to Biff he had only just gone to sleep when he felt his father shaking his shoulder.
“Rise and shine, Biff. Almost daylight. We’re shoving off as soon as we have some grub.”
Under a bright morning sun, the Easy Action got under way again. Biff was at the tiller. His father and Hank Mahenili, tired from their early morning watch, dozed on the foredeck in comfortable captain’s chairs.
Biff and Li had their work cut out for them. The course set was a zigzag one. They wanted to cruise as much of the coastline as possible in the hope of spotting some sign of Huntington’s sunken sloop.
Biff would head the Easy Action off shore, run out nearly ten miles, then tack back in. For every three miles they progressed down the coast toward Ka Lae, the southern tip of Hawaii, they covered nearly twenty miles out and back from the coast.
A stiff morning breeze sent the Easy Action skipping briskly over the waves. They had covered a good distance by eight bells, twelve o’clock noon.
Biff and Li took turns at the tiller. When Li was the steerer, Biff stood on the highest point of the foredeck, near the ship’s bow, scanning the waters on either side with powerful binoculars. When it was his time to take over the wheel, Li took up the vigil.
They reached Kailua on the Kona coast as the sun, like a blazing ball, settled into the Pacific Ocean to the west. They were halfway to Ka Lae, the southern cape.
The party went ashore for a steak dinner at the famous Kona Steak House, then came back to their boat filled with food and tired. All turned in at once. No watch was set. None of them saw the black-hulled power cruiser come in and drop its anchor nearby. Then the captain of the cruiser, having spotted the Easy Action, weighed anchor and moved off to an anchorage out of sight from the crew of the yawl.
The next morning the search was continued, the yawl weaving its way in and out along the coast, drawing nearer to Ka Lae, nearer to the position at which Huntington had last been heard from.
“I’ll take the tiller now, Biff,’” his father said. “Hank and I will alternate. I want you and Li to keep a constant watch. Your young eyes are sharper than ours.”
The Easy Action spent the day crisscrossing a wide area of water between the shore line and a distance outside the coral shoals, varying from five to twelve miles.
Nightfall found them off Ka Lae, or South Cape. They anchored in thirty feet of clear water, about a quarter of a mile off shore. They could see the white combers lashing at the rocky formation of the beach.
“We’ll combine our evening meal with a council of war,” Tom Brewster said, once the ship was made tight for the night.
“You figure we’re in the danger area now, Dad?” Biff asked.
“Huntington’s sloop is on the bottom of the ocean somewhere in this area.”
“And Perez Soto is looking for it just as hard as we are,” Hank Mahenili added.
“What about Dr. Weber?” Biff asked. “Do you think he’s aboard Perez Soto’s boat, or do you think he’s being held on shore?”
“Hard to say, Biff. My feeling is that he’s being held on shore. A captive on a boat could be too easily spotted at a refueling wharf.”
“Don’t you think, Dad, that we ought to divide up now?” Biff suggested. “Two of us make a shore search for Dr. Weber, the other two cruise around and try to spot the sunken sloop?”
“Good idea, Biff. We’ll do that tomorrow,” Mr. Brewster agreed. “Hank and I will go ashore. You and Li conduct the sea search.”
That suited Biff and Li just fine. They looked at one another and smiled.
“Now tonight, I don’t think it’s necessary to have a standing watch. There’s been no sign of Perez Soto so far. But one of us ought to sleep on deck. Any volunteers?” Biff’s father asked.
“Me, Dad.” Biff jumped at the chance. “I’d love to. Nice warm night. The sleeping will be better under the stars than it will be in the cabin.”
“Okay, let’s all turn in. Big day ahead.”
Biff spread out a sleeping bag on the Easy Action’s foredeck. He lay on his back, his eyes staring up and the millions of stars twinkling in the sky overhead. The sound of the surf came distinctly. It was a soothing sound, and shortly Biff was lulled to sleep.
Some hours later, he was awakened slowly. He heard the distant throb of a powerful engine. At first, Biff thought it must be an airplane. But then, as he became wider awake, he realized the throbbing came not from the air, but the sea. It grew louder as the craft, whatever it was, drew nearer.
Biff sat up, propping himself on one arm. Now there was no mistaking it. A boat, one with a powerful engine, was rapidly approaching the Easy Action’s anchorage. Biff stood up. He peered into the starlight night. He could see the reflection of stars twinkling on the water’s surface. Then he made out the outlines of a cabin cruiser throwing a fan-tail white wake, heading fast toward the Easy Action.
“Fools,” Biff muttered to himself, “if they don’t change course, they’ll ram us.”
He knew the white-hulled yawl was sharply outlined against the starlit waters. Then he suddenly knew what was happening. The on-charging cruiser was aiming at the yawl. It meant to ram her.
Biff raised a cry. It was too late. His voice was drowned out by the roar of the cruiser’s engines—Biff knew now that it was a twin-engined craft.
Now the boat seemed on top of the yawl. Its bow, with a much higher freeboard than the low-lying yawl, reared up menacingly only twenty feet from the sailing craft. Surely it would crash them, ram them, send them to the bottom of the sea, with Biff’s father, Hank Mahenili, and Li trapped below.
Biff yelled.
At the last moment, the cruiser swerved sharply to the starboard, making an almost right-angle turn. It roared alongside the Easy Action, not ten feet separating the two boats.
As the cruiser made its fast, skidding turn, it threw up a tremendous wave. Biff saw the wave sweeping toward the yawl. Then, tons of foaming water cascaded over the Easy Action. Biff grabbed for the mainmast, wrapping his arms around it in a death lock. He felt the wave tugging at his body. It took all his strength to prevent being swept overboard.
The wave passed on over, tumbling gallons of water into the cabins below.
Biff released his grip on the mainmast. He sprinted to the cockpit. It was nearly filled with water.
“Dad! Dad! You all right?”
He started to plunge into the water-filled cabin and was met by his father, Hank, and Li fighting their way out, gasping for breath, trying to expel water from their choked lungs.
The black cruiser had sped away, the throb of its engines barely audible now.
Everyone was all right. But what a mess! Bedding was soaked. Galley equipment, pots, pans, dishes had been swept off shelves, some of the pans bobbing like corks in the swirling waters inside the ship’s cabin.
Biff went into action. Maybe he could start the engine before the water did its damage. He splashed through the water and reached the engine compartment. He pulled open the door. It had held back the flood from the engine room. Before the water could rush in and fill up that compartment, Biff had the engine going. He quickly turned on the yawl’s sea pumps. He stood there with his fingers crossed, hoping the engine wouldn’t conk out. It didn’t. The heavy-duty pumps worked perfectly. Already the water inside the boat was beginning to recede.
Biff joined his father, Hank Mahenili, and Li in the cockpit. They were still dazed and only now beginning to breathe easily.
“I thought he was going to ram us, Dad.”
Mr. Brewster shook his head.
“I get it now,” Biff continued. “To ram us would have damaged his boat—put it out of commission, even if it didn’t sink. He wanted to swamp us.”
“And nearly did!” Mr. Mahenili said.
The steady beat of the pumps continued. They were rapidly bailing the yawl out.
“Well, Biff, you know what we’re really up against now,” his father said seriously.
“I think I always did, Dad. This Perez Soto will stop at nothing.”
Li sat quietly, but he was shaking as if from a chill. It was the recent frightening experience which caused him to tremble.
“Tom, I’ve been in and around water, in and out of boats all my life. But that was the nearest brush I’ve ever had with a watery grave.” Hank Mahenili’s voice was solemn. “He’ll never get away with it,” he added fiercely.
The next hour was spent in straightening up the water damage. Bedding was brought on deck and spread to dry. Li was elected cook, to make coffee and hot tea. Dawn was spreading before the Easy Action was shipshape again.
After a hot meal, Mr. Brewster took Biff aside.
“Biff, we’re not going to let last night’s incident change our plans. Hank and I are going ashore immediately. You and Li put out and start the search at once. We’ve got to stop Perez Soto before he stops us. Come below with me for a moment.”
Biff followed his father into the cabin. He saw him open his bag. When he turned around, he was holding a revolver in his hand.
“You know how to use this, Biff. You’ve practiced enough.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“You’re not to use it, except in the most extreme emergency. You’re to use it only to repel anyone trying to board this boat.”
Biff nodded his head gravely. Mr. Brewster replaced the weapon and left the cabin to join Hank Mahenili. Biff and Li watched their fathers as they headed for shore in the yawl’s dinghy.
The boys watched the dinghy plunge into the surf near the shore. They saw it picked up by a breaking roller, and carried on its crest to the shore. They saw the two men pull the dinghy high up on the shore and hide it behind some low, spreading growth.
“They’re taking no chances,” Biff said to Li. “We’ve got to be equally careful.”
Biff’s voice held a grim tone. The memory of the night before was still vivid in his mind. Li’s face was solemn, too, his round brown eyes serious.
“You’re the captain, Biff.”
Biff smiled. He didn’t want Li to become too alarmed.
“Okay, my friend. Let’s put out to sea. I can handle the mainsail and the jib. You stand by the tiller. We’ll hoist the mizzen after we’re heading out.”
Biff ran the mainsail up, leaped to the bow of the boat, and started hauling in the anchor on a hand winch. It took a lot of effort. The anchor was heavy, and he had to raise it thirty feet. The Easy Action, a spanking off-shore breeze in its sail, was already plowing through the sea before Biff had the anchor safely stowed.
Once the anchor was stowed, Biff went back to the cockpit.
“How’m I doing, Biff? Heading the right way?” Li asked.
“Point her a little more to the southwest. I’ll raise the mizzen.”
Biff finished his seaman’s job and dropped down in the cockpit beside Li for a breather.
“I’ll take over now, Li. You go forward and be the lookout. Take the binoculars,” he suggested.
All morning they continued their crisscrossing course. The high noon sun blazed down on them. The heat soon dried the bedding. Biff heaved to long enough to carry the bedding below and make up the berths.
They had a sandwich, then stretched out on the hot deck for a brief rest. The boat drifted.
“Where do you think we are now, Li?” Biff asked.
Li looked shoreward. They could just make out the coastline.
“I think we’ve rounded Ka Lae. Must be just off the black sand beach.”
“Black sand?”
“Yes, Biff. The lava from Kilauea spilled down to the ocean. The surf ground it up into a fine black powder, really finer than sand. That’s why it’s called the black sand beach. It’s all along the Puna coast, all the way up to Hilo—that’s a city on the west side of the Big Island.”
“I think we ought to change course, then. Head a point or two north by northeast. Then we’ll wing back east and return to the anchorage.”
Li was at the tiller. He came about, and the Easy Action was put on a long reach, pushed briskly along by a southerly wind.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, Biff looked up to see Li coming aft. Biff was at the tiller. He noticed a frown on his Hawaiian friend’s face.
“What’s up, Li? You sight something?”
“No, Biff,” Li shook his head. The serious expression on his face had deepened to one of worry.
“Then what’s your trouble? You look like you got trouble.” Biff smiled.
“I’m afraid we both may have,” Li answered. “Have you noticed it getting any warmer?”
“A little, perhaps. Wind’s freshened a bit, too.”
“That’s it. I’m afraid we’re in for some Kona weather.”
“Kona weather?”
“Yes, that’s what we call a wind coming up from the Equator. Sometimes it reaches gale force. Always there’s heavy rain.”
Biff looked astern. On the southern horizon, he could make out huge thunderheads.
“Was there a Kona wind when Huntington was lost?”
“Yes. A big one.”
“Then we’d better get out of here fast. We’ll try to get back round Ka Lae. The Point ought to give us some protection.”
There was no doubt now that a Kona wind was catching them. Biff changed course again. He headed Easy Action’s bow west by north. The wind rose rapidly. It whistled through the sails, making the rigging lines vibrate. The sea began kicking up.
The wind drove Easy Action before it. The yawl heeled far over, its mainsail stretched taut on the starboard side. The yawl was fairly racing through the water.
Suddenly they were struck by a torrential downpour. The rain hit the deck in drops as big as half-dollars. The sky had blackened. The shore was blanked out. Angry whitecaps dotted the water like blobs of cotton.
“Take the tiller, Li,” Biff shouted above the roar of the wind and the pounding of the rain. “I’ve got to get the mainsail down.”
Biff fought his way forward on the rain-slippery deck. He was pushed along by the driving wind. He reached the mainmast. Its lines were whipping against it, cracking like pistol shots. He loosened the mainsail halyard. The wind grabbed the mainsail. Biff struggled to pull it down. Suddenly there was a thunderous crack. The mainsail gave way, torn loose from its halyards. It stretched straight out like a flat, white canopy and flapped violently in the wind, which was now near gale force.
There was no way to cut it loose. Biff let the line go. The jibsail was still holding. Turning, Biff felt the rain and salt spray beat against his face. He had to bend into a crouch to make any progress aft. The salt spray stung his eyes, nearly blinding him.
Once he slipped and crashed to the deck. He could feel himself sliding toward the starboard gunnel, now nearly under water because the yawl had heeled over so far. A last-second grab at a mooring stanchion saved him from going overboard into the boiling sea.
Biff pulled himself up slowly. He crawled on hands and knees and fell exhausted into the cockpit. For moments he lay there, gasping for breath. Then he saw the fear on Li’s face. Li held the tiller in a viselike grip. Biff rose.
“I’ll take over,” he shouted.
Li merely nodded his head in assent, glad to relinquish the wooden tiller handle. It was a fight to hold it steady.
From forward, the boys heard another crack, sharp as a shotgun shot.
“Jibsail’s given away,” Biff shouted.
Now their only control of the yawl was by the mizzensail. It was behind them, making control of the boat most difficult.
“If the mizzen goes,” Biff yelled, “we’re done for!”
Just as he spoke the words, the mizzen gave way, torn from its halyard by a sudden driving gust. At the same moment, the boys heard a sound that sent an even greater chill of fear racing up and down their spines. It was the roar of an angry surf pounding the shore.
They were being swept ashore. The boat would be dashed to bits. They would be flung on razor-sharp coral!
“Get forward, Li,” Biff shouted. “Let the anchor go!”
The sound of the pounding surf came nearer. Biff prayed that the anchor would grab and hold. He fought the tiller, trying to keep the yawl from being swept ashore broadside. Then, suddenly, the yawl was lifted high on the crest of a roller, as if handled by a giant. When it crashed down into a churning trough of water, Biff’s grasp on the tiller was torn loose. He felt himself being hurled through the air. Then he struck the water with a thud, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Biff felt himself go under. Then he was lifted by another roller. Surfacing, he gasped for air. His arms flailed the water. The waves tossed him about, carrying him nearer and nearer the shore. Biff struggled to ride the waves, to keep control of his body so that he might avoid being dashed on the shore. He was hoping against hope that this would be a sand, not coral beach.
After a seemingly endless struggle, Biff, kicking out, felt his feet touch bottom. Nothing had ever felt so good before. His feet were touching a powdery sand, now roiled up, but at least, it wasn’t a coral bottom.
Biff found himself in waist-deep water. The shoreline was only a few feet in front of him. He staggered through the surf, reached the black sand beach, and threw himself face down on the sand. Every muscle in his body felt as if it had been pounded, pummeled, pulled, and strained.
Then he thought of Li. He turned over and rose to his knees. He saw the Easy Action. Her anchor had caught and held. She was pounding up and down on the rough waters, but Biff could see that she was holding.
But where was Li?
Biff stood up. He went to the water’s edge. He walked out until the water raced around his knees. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted:
“Li! Li!”
There was no answer.
Biff stood on the beach calling out his friend’s name again and again. His voice shook with effort, trying to drown out the noises of surf and sea.
The wind was dying down slightly, but the surf was still too rough and dangerous for Biff to try to reach the boat, which stood one hundred feet off shore.
Biff’s eyes searched the beach, hoping to spot Li swimming ashore. No such welcome sight met his eyes.
To his left, about a quarter of a mile away, Biff could see a formation of lava rock jutting out into the sea. He thought his friend Li might have gotten to shore on the other side of the lava promontory.
Biff ran down the beach. His pounding heart sank when he reached the ugly, grayish-black rock, stretching out into the sea. Its side was smooth, rising upward some thirty feet. There was no place Biff could spot where he could gain a foothold to climb to its top.
Around the base of the lava cliff, the water dashed and swirled, making it impossible for Biff to swim around to the other side.
Biff went back to the spot on the beach directly opposite the Easy Action. He sank down on the wet sand, filled with despair. He felt certain now that his good friend Li must be lost in the ocean.
Night settled over a lonely, saddened Biff. The rain had stopped. The wind was dying down. The surf was losing some of its angry roar. Sleep, a sleep Biff felt he could never attain, finally came to the tired, worried boy. With it came release for his troubled mind.
By morning, the wind was gone. The sea was smooth, and the sky was blue over Hawaii once again.
Biff saw the yawl rocking gently at its anchor. Its sails torn, tattered, drooped from the masts like the banners of a defeated army. There was no sign of Li.
There was only one thing to do. He must search the nearby coast for his lost friend.
Biff swam out to the yawl. A quick inspection showed the Easy Action to be a stout ship. She had taken on little water. Her seams had held. Her masts had stood the strain. Biff took out the emergency suit of sail and rigged them to the halyards. He started the engine, let it idle as he raised the anchor, then put out to sea.
He ran on engine past the lava promontory, bringing the boat as close into shore as he felt safe. No sign of Li.
Biff put back out to sea, raised the jibsail and cruised along the coast, his eyes constantly scanning the shoreline. He didn’t know how far down the Big Island he sailed, but he dreaded turning about and giving up. Finally, he felt he had to. He had to get back to where he had left his father and Mr. Mahenili and tell them the tragic news.
Biff came about. Now he sailed in the opposite direction. He rounded the lava promontory, lashed the tiller, and went forward to raise the mainsail.
Returning to the cockpit, Biff cast a final look at the spot on the black beach where he had spent the night. His heart leaped. There was someone on the beach, jumping up and down, waving madly. Li!
With a shout of happiness, Biff turned the yawl inshore. Li had already dashed into the water, and was swimming toward the approaching boat.
Biff came about quickly, heading the yawl into the wind. Li reached its side, and Biff pulled him aboard. He threw his arms around Li’s wet body and hugged him in sheer happiness. Then he stepped back and sized Li up carefully. Except for some scratches, and a deep gash on one leg, Li looked fine.
“I thought you were a goner,” Biff said.
“Nope, old Davy Jones hasn’t got me in his locker yet.”
“What happened? Where’ve you been?”
Li grinned. “I fell overboard. I’d just let go the anchor when my foot got caught and I went over. A current caught me and carried me away from the boat. The anchor must have dragged for quite a distance before it caught, because when I finally made shore, the yawl wasn’t in sight.”
“Where’d you land? The other side of that lava cliff?”
“Yep. And there was no way to get over it.”
“I know that. I walked down the beach to the cliff, but it can’t be climbed from this side, either.”
Both boys were silent for a minute, thinking about their narrow escape.
“So what did you do, Li?”
“I started up the cliff, the side of it. I had to find some way of getting over it, hoping to find you safe on the other side.”
“Yes, go on.”
“Well, it was growing dark. I slipped several times, cut myself, too.”
“I see you did. We better put some antiseptic on that cut.”
“I’ve already cleaned it out with salt water. Stung like the dickens.”
“We’ll still do some more doctoring. Now get on with your story,” Biff ordered.
“Well, I knew I wouldn’t make it at night, so I found a protected spot and went to sleep. This morning, I made my way farther up the cliff, found a place where I could cross, and came over to this side.”
“And I was gone.”
“Yes, Biff. When I finally made it here, I could have died. No Biff. No boat.”
“I was looking for you. I must have sailed two or three miles down the coast, trying to spot you.”
“That’s what I finally figured out, Biff. I thought that since the boat was gone and there was no wreckage on the beach, old E.A. hadn’t smashed up. So, putting my two heads together, I also figured you must be safe and had gone hunting for me. So I just sat and waited. Boy, when you rounded that promontory, was I ever glad!”
“Me too, when I saw you jumping around like a crazy Indian!”
The boys smiled at each other. Their smiles turned to laughter, and for a few moments they let themselves go in a wild laughing bout.
“I should have known,” Biff said, simmering down at last. “I should have known that Likake Mahenili, champion swimmer of the Islands, could take care of himself.”
“It was close, though, Biff.”
“I’ll say it was.”
Biff put the Easy Action on a course for the spot where the dinghy had been beached. They sailed through the morning and well into the afternoon before they spotted their landmarks. Biff anchored the yawl. Both had felt sure their parents would be waiting for them on the beach. There was no sign of either man.
“What do we do now, Biff?”
Biff shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“I don’t know, Li. All we can do is wait. It’ll be dark, soon. We can’t search for them at night.”
“Biff, you don’t think that maybe Perez Soto—” Li couldn’t finish his sentence.
Biff knew the worried thoughts which must be running through his friend’s mind. The same thoughts were racing through his own. Had his father and Mr. Mahenili been trapped by the enemy?
High up the side of Mauna Loa volcano, Tom Brewster and Hank Mahenili turned their binoculars on the sea 10,000 feet below them and several miles away.
The men scanned the coastline, inch by inch, searching for any activity on the wide horizon.
“Can’t spot the Easy Action, Hank. Can you?” Tom Brewster asked.
“No. But look over there. To your right. Line up on that tall palm tree, couple hundred feet down.”
Tom Brewster followed his friend’s directions. He adjusted his glasses. As the focus became sharp, he spotted a black object, apparently a boat, anchored off shore.
“Couldn’t that be a black power boat? Looks like it to me, Tom,” Hank said.
Brewster studied the boat for a minute before replying. “I think it is. I’m sure it is. That must be Perez Soto’s boat.”
Mahenili had turned his glasses in the direction where the Easy Action should be riding at anchor.
“I’m getting worried about the boys, Tom.”
“Oh, they’ll be all right. They’ll be coming into sight any moment now. Anything in particular worrying you? We’ve spotted Perez Soto’s boat. They haven’t had any trouble with him.”
It was late afternoon. Hank Mahenili had turned his glasses to the south, looking out over Ka Lae.
“See that cloud formation to the south?” he said. “It’s building up fast. It could be a Kona wind coming up.”
“Maybe we’d better start down, then,” Mr. Brewster suggested.
The two men had descended only halfway down the side of the volcano when the Kona storm struck. They had to halt. It was too dangerous to make the steep descent in the raging storm, the same storm that had hit the Easy Action two hours earlier.
The high wind, ripping and roaring, whining against the side of the mountain, was followed by a sheet of rain. Tom Brewster and Hank Mahenili had to scramble for any cover they could find. They located a small but deep depression, more of a pocket than a cave, and dived into it. Water trickled in, wetting them, but it was better than being in the open with the rain and wind lashing at them.
Shortly after nightfall, the storm lessened. There was no question of trying to continue their descent.
“Have to make the best of it for the night,” Mr. Brewster said.
“What about the boys?” Hank asked.
“Nothing we can do, Hank. Don’t think I’m not worried. I am. But I do trust Biff. He’s been up against many a tough situation and has always come through. He will this time, too. And so will Li.” Tom hoped his strong tone of confidence would be imparted to his friend. He knew that the Mahenilis weren’t accustomed to running into the dangerous situations that had been a part of his own life for many years, and recently, had become almost a pattern for Biff, too.
Henry Mahenili was made of stout stuff, too. He also knew that, when faced with a situation where there was no immediate out, the best thing to do was to face up to it and hope for the best.
Tom Brewster changed the subject.
“I’ve an idea, Hank. I base it on seeing that black power boat anchored off shore.”
“What is it, Tom?”
“I think that Perez Soto and whoever is working with him must be ashore. I think they must have Dr. Weber with them. It would be too easy to spot someone being held captive in as confined a space as a boat.”
“I’m with you in that thinking, Tom.”
“Tell me this, then. Don’t you think they must have a hideout somewhere nearby? They wouldn’t want to be too far from their anchorage. They’d want to be able to get to their boat quickly if any definite news came about the location of Huntington’s sunken sloop.”
“There are all sorts of places around here, Tom. Lean-tos, shacks. Finding one certain hideout won’t be simple. There’s also a lot of the Mauna Loa, too. Don’t expect too much too soon.”
“I know. But I won’t rest until I’ve made every effort to find Dr. Weber.”
“Well, Tom, if we don’t rest now, we won’t have the strength to continue our search. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
“Good idea.”
They spent a restless night in their cramped, wet quarters. Daylight, with a bright sun already sending up steam vapors as it dried the wet mountain side, was a welcome relief.
The first thing both men did was to scan the shore line again with their binoculars, searching for the Easy Action. Failure to spot her increased the worry in both men’s minds. Neither spoke of the matter. Each knew how greatly concerned the other was. But there was no point in dumping one worry upon another.
“Come on, Hank. Let’s get back on down. The boys may be there when we arrive.”
They started on down the side of Mauna Loa. At an elevation of about one thousand feet, almost directly opposite the anchored black power boat, they halted for a breather. They were only a mile or so from the shore. Their intention was to cut to their left, now that the going was easier at the lower altitude. The descent was no longer so precipitate.
They headed almost due south now. They stayed at the same elevation, stopping now and again to sweep the coast line with their glasses. At one halt, Tom Brewster placed a retaining hand on Mahenili just as he started off.
“Hold it a moment, Hank,” Tom said in a low voice. “Hear anything?”
Hank Mahenili listened. In a few moments, he nodded his head.
“Sound like voices to you?”
“Yes. And angry ones.”
“Come along then, let’s find out.”
The voices seemed to be coming from a point below them, not too far below, and just a bit to their right.
They proceeded most cautiously in the direction of the voices, careful not to start any pebbles or small stones rolling downward. Easing themselves down, the two men came to a ledge. It projected out like the roof of a shed or porch. Tom Brewster got down on his stomach. He wormed his way forward. The voices were coming, it appeared, from directly beneath him.
Inching ahead, Tom Brewster came to the edge of the ledge. Carefully, he craned his head forward and looked down. He saw the tops of two men’s heads. A third man was stretched out on a makeshift bed of brush, covered with a worn cloth.
The third man was Dr. Weber. The doctor’s cheeks were sunken. His color was bad. He looked completely ill and worn out. Towering over the doctor was Perez Soto. Thomas Brewster couldn’t see the other man’s face, but he knew it must have anger written on it from the tone of his voice.
Dr. Weber groaned as he turned on his side. Brewster could see that his hands were bound behind his back. His ankles were also lashed together.
“You old fool!” Perez Soto said. “Why should it make any difference to you whether I get the cesium or Brewster gets it? You’re a scientist. Bah! A scientist should put his science before all else.”
Brewster heard the doctor’s reply in a voice barely audible: “There are certain things even a scientist places a greater value on—friendship, loyalty, humanity.”
Perez Soto leaned over the old man, his arm raised as if to strike him. Brewster had all he could do to keep himself from leaping off the ledge onto Perez Soto’s back. But Soto’s henchman stood, gun in hand, by the old man’s side.
“I give you this day, and no more, my fine doctor,” Perez Soto said. “By nightfall, if you do not reveal to me the location of the cesium strike, the world will lose one of its most eminent scientists!”
Biff and Li were up with the first rays of daylight. After a hurried breakfast, they prepared to go ashore.
“Do you think it’s safe to leave the boat unguarded, Biff?” Li wanted to know.
“No, I don’t. I know darn well that Perez Soto would like nothing better than to find the Easy Action with no one aboard and scuttle her.”
“What do we do then?”
“We take that chance,” Biff said grimly. “We’ve got to. Finding our fathers is more important than all the yawls and all the cesium in the world.”
Li smiled in agreement. “We’re going to be awfully wet when we get ashore.”
The dinghy was still secreted behind beach brush. The yawl had no other.
“Couldn’t you kind of kick your way ashore, swimming on your back, Li?” Biff asked.
“Sure, Biff. Why?”
“Well, here’s what you try to do. Jump overboard. Turn on your back. I’ll hand you some dry shorts and sweat shirts. Hold them out of water over your head and see if you can make shore that way.”
“I’ll try, Biff. But I don’t know. Getting through the surf isn’t going to be easy. Probably get the clothes wet anyway.”
“We’ll try it. And if they do get wet, the sun will dry ’em fast.”
Li dived into the ocean. He plunged around like a porpoise for a few moments, enjoying and getting the feel of the water. Then he turned on his back and kicked to the side of the yawl. Biff handed down a bundle of clothing, and Li propelled himself away from the boat with a powerful thrust against its side.
Biff slung a pair of binoculars in a waterproof case around his neck and slipped into the water.
Li’s progress was slow. His leg thrusts were those of an excellent backstroke swimmer, but unable to use his arms, he couldn’t go very fast. Biff stayed alongside him.
“I’m going ahead when we reach the shore breakers,” Biff called to Li. “I’m taller than you. Maybe I can reach bottom, and take the clothes from you before a wave rolls over you.”
It was a good plan. But the sea has a way of upsetting good plans, and it did this time. Boys and clothes reached shore equally wet. They wrung out their shorts and sweat shirts as best they could, donned them, and headed up the southern slope of the Mauna Loa in the area called Kau.
They toiled upward, resting at regular intervals. It was hot, tiring work. Their wet clothes clung to their bodies. Perspiration from the effort kept their clothes damp. Even in the heat, Biff found himself shivering convulsively.
“I’ve got a clammy feeling from these clothes. Guess that’s why I’m shivering,” Biff said to his friend. He hoped it was the damp clothing, rather than fear for the safety of his father and Hanale Mahenili.
By noon, the boys had climbed nearly three thousand feet.
“Let’s take a break,” Biff called.
“By me, fine. That was a tough climb,” Li answered.
Biff stretched out. Li remained seated.
“Let me have the glasses. Biff.”
Biff handed them over, shielded his eyes from the sun, and tried to catch a catnap. He was just dozing off when he felt Li nudge him.
“Biff! Biff!” The excitement in Li’s voice brought Biff to a sitting position in a hurry.
“What is it, Li?”
“Over there, see? About halfway between Ka Lae and that point to the north—Kauna Point.”
“Yes. But how can I see anything without the glasses?”
Li unslung them from around his neck and handed them to Biff. “Now, look. Follow the direction of my arm. About half a mile, I’d guess, off shore. Almost exactly between Ka Lae and Kauna Point.”
“I’m following you, Li.”
“Move your glasses around in a tight area of a few hundred yards. See if you spot a dark object on the bottom of the ocean.”
The boys were looking almost straight down. From his many flights over water, Biff knew that from above, one could see through the water to depths of forty to fifty feet with ease. The water acted as a magnifying glass.
He moved the glasses in a tight circle. Then he spotted what had caused all Li’s excitement. Lying on the bottom of the ocean was a dark object. It was slender, about forty feet long, Biff judged.
“Do you think it could be, Biff? Think it could be a boat?”
Biff didn’t want to raise either his own or Li’s hopes too high.