100 Fathoms Under Page 4

  Chahda quietly had moved close to the shrubs. Suddenly he jumped into them, giving a wild yell.

  There was instant response. A man hurtled out to the path, fell, but was up on his feet and running before Rick or Scotty could grab him. Instinctively Rick brought his camera up and clicked the flash button just as he saw the blur of a white face.

  “After him,” Scotty called.

  Chahda was already sprinting up the path after the intruder. Rick ran to the cottage steps, put the camera down, and joined in the chase. He had no doubts about chasing the man, whoever he was. If he turned out to be a guest, he would have some explanation. If he wasn’t a guest, there must have been some illegal reason for hiding in the shrubbery.

  The fleeing intruder crashed through a hedge, ducked between two cottages, and ran down another path. Rick and Scotty hit the hedge at the same time, and somehow got in each other’s way. They crashed to the soft turf.

  “Here!” Chahda called. He had cut around another cottage and was still after the intruder. Rick and Scotty got to their feet and raced after him.

  Rick saw that they were running back toward the water front. Then he heard Chahda’s voice again, to the right. The man must be running along the sea wall!

  The chase ended abruptly at a high board fence. Chahda was running along the fence, looking for some sign of the quarry. In a moment he called, “I think he go over.”

  “Up you go,” Scotty said. He held out his cupped hands. Rick put his foot in them and jumped, coming to rest on top of the fence. He looked down into what was evidently a big lumberyard with piles of drying wood. There were a dozen exits the intruder might have taken. They would never catch him now.

  “Coming down,” he called, and dropped lightly to the ground beside Scotty and Chahda. He explained what he had seen.

  “I wonder what he was up to,” Scotty mused. “Something queer, because he wouldn’t have run otherwise.”

  “I thinking maybe I jump into bush and scare him out,then you catch,” Chahda explained.

  “He moved too fast,” Rick said ruefully, “He caught us flat-footed.”

  “Did you get a picture?” Scotty asked. “I saw the bulb go off.”

  “It ought to be a good one,” Rick told him, starting back to the cottage. “I shot just as he looked back. Let’s develop it and see.”

  “The developing stuff is on the Tarpon” Scotty reminded him.

  “Sure. But it’s not very late.”

  Rick put the camera away, first tucking the exposed film pack in his pocket. Then they hiked to the boatyard, finding it ablaze with lights.

  Otera was sitting on the afterdeck, smoking a stub of a pipe.

  “We have something we want to do,” Rick told him. “Where are the others?”

  Otera shook his head. “Nosavee .Me onefella watch-boy.Goodfella too much!” He grinned widely.

  “He doesn’t know where the others are. He’s on watch,” Scotty translated. “Do you know where the developing kit is?”

  “Yes,” Rick said. “I put it away myself.”

  He led the way below decks and took the compact developing kit from the storage room. There was running water in the bathroom, and room to lay out the trays. Rick filled them from the bottles of prepared fluid, then switched out the light and went to work.

  “Let’s have the light,” he said presently. He took the film out of the water bath and waved it back and forth, shaking off the excess liquid. Then he held it to the light-He had caught the running figure from the waist up, and the face, looking back over the shoulder, was plain. A queer sensation traveled down his spine. Clearly visible, even in the negative film, was a sharp break in the bridge of the man’s nose, and the eyes had a slant look under stiff black hair.

  “The Jap!”Rick exclaimed. “The same one I saw at the pier this afternoon!”

  CHAPTER V

  The Warning

  To the amazement of Hartson Brant when he came out of his cottage at seven in the morning, the three younger members of the expedition were already up. Led by Rick, they were sniffing around in the shrubbery like three eager beagles.

  The scientist walked over to where the boys hunted. “Looking for edible roots or fruits?” he asked dryly. “I can’t imagine anything but food that would get you three up at

  this time in the morning without prompting.

  Rick looked up from his examination of the soft turf. “Hello, Dad. We’re looking for ...

  gosh, I don’t know what we’re looking for. A clue, I guess.”

  The scientists had been asleep when the boys returned from the trawler, and Rick had decided not to disturb them. Now, he told his father the whole story, beginning with his first sight of the Japanese with the broken nose on the dock. He concluded, “He was hiding in the shrubbery next to TurkMallane’s cottage.”

  Hartson Brant studied the film negative thoughtfully,then handed it to Hobart Zircon, who had just come out of the cottage. He outlined Rick’s story briefly. “What do you think,Hobart ?”

  The big scientist examined the negative. “I don’t know what to think,” he boomed.

  “You don’t believe it’s just a coincidence, Rick?”

  “It could be,” Rick admitted, “but you’ve often said yourself that you don’t believe in that kind of coincidence.”

  “Maybe Turk Mallane knows something about the Jap,” Scotty suggested. “He was hiding near Turk’s cottage.”

  “I’m blessed if I can think of any reason why this Japanese should be interested in us,”

  Hartson Brant said. “Suppose we have breakfast. We can ask Captain Mallane for his opinion later.”

  Professor Gordon joined them as they walked toward the dining room, and Rick had to tell the story once more. Gordon, like the others, had nothing to suggest.

  It wasn’t until they reached the trawler that they had a chance to talk with Turk. The broad-shouldered captain listened to Rick’s story, then took the film and looked at it.

  “Never saw the man before,” he said finally. “I’m sure I don’t know what he was doing near my cottage. Couldn’t it have been your cottages that interested him? They’re close together.”

  Rick shrugged. Anything was possible, since they had no evidence either way. He watched Turk examine the negative again before handing it back, and somehow he got the impression that the captain wasn’t being entirely frank. He was too casual about the whole business.

  Hartson Brant called the Spindrift group together. Turk Mallane informs me that he can get clearances today, so we can sail in the morning. The Diesel oil was delivered right after we left last night, and all ship’s supplies and food are aboard. Our own personal gear is aboard, with the camping supplies. If we pitch in, the equipment can be aboard by nightfall.”

  He assigned them to various tasks. Rick and Scotty were to uncrate the equipment and Chahda was to check off each piece against a master list. Rick got further instructions on the proper order in which to open the cases to make stowage simpler; then he and Scotty went to work.

  The salvage apparatus for the Submobile was first. They uncrated what looked like a small steam shovel with powerful jaws. It operated on the same principle, and had been designed for picking up small objects from the ocean floor. It had no name other than

  “the scoop.” In the same crate were two extension arms that operated on the scissors principle. Each was equipped with a powerful ring snap that would hold the steel salvage cable.

  Other cases contained the brass ball from which the Sonoscope impulses would be transmitted, electric motors, three bronze propellers, a host of electronic equipment, oxygen cylinders, chemicals, and specially prepared explosive charges.

  Rick found one case without markings and called Chahda. The Hindu boy consulted his list, checking case numbers against the diminishing pile of crates.

  “Not here,” he reported.

  Rick looked the odd case over. It was much smaller than the others, and not very heavy.


  He called the scientists, who were storing the Submobile equipment in accessible places on the ship.

  “An extra case?”Hartson Brant said. “That’s odd.”

  Professor Gordon came out of the hold in time to hear the remark. “What extra case?

  Oh, that’s probably mine.” He went to the boathouse with Rick and looked at it. “Yes.

  That’s mine. A few necessities I collected inHonolulu . I had them put in a wooden box and left them here to be taken aboard and stowed with the rest.

  “That’s a relief,” Rick said. “For a minute I thought maybe that Jap had planted a bomb or something.” He ripped open the case and Gordon began enumerating the items as they were taken out.

  “This stuff is for keeping us healthy,” he said. “I tried to think of everything.First of all, an ultraviolet sterilizer lamp. That’s for treatment of any fungus infections we pick up, and also for sterilizing any native fruits or vegetables we might find.”

  “Good idea,” Scotty said approvingly.

  Gordon took out a large, pack-type spray gun. It had a cylindrical tank with a harness to carry it on one’s back, a pump for building up air pressure, and a hose with a trigger release.

  ‘This is for DDT. If the mosquitoes are bad, we can spray the area and perhaps cut down the population of malaria carriers. The DDT is in those cans. I got the powder rather than liquid, since it’s cleaner to use. The spray will handle it.”

  Scotty nodded approval. “I should have thought of those things myself,” he said.

  Rick picked out two smaller cans. “What are these?”

  “Fluoride powder,” Gordon told him. “That’s to prevent tooth trouble, which is prevalent in the islands. I got together with a biochemist friend of Dr. Warren’s and we worked out the formula for mixing the fluoride with regular tooth powder. You’ll also find a spare first-aid kit in there.”

  Rick grinned. “We could practically stock a hospital. Not to mention a bug

  extermination plant.”

  ‘It’s not funny,” Scotty said. “I spent a long time in Navy hospitals with malaria because we didn’t have enough insecticide to keep the mosquito population down.”

  “And I,” Gordon added, “once spent six weeks in bed because there were no treatment lamps to check the spread of a fungus infection I picked up. I also might add that I now have four less teeth.”

  Rick apologized, and helped carry the equipment aboard, stowing it with the camping gear. Professor Zircon brought Scotty’s rifle, which had been packed with some of the electronic equipment. “You’ll want this in your cabin,” he boomed. “Might get a shot at a cannibal or two, eh?”

  “Could be.”Scotty grinned.

  He took the rifle, which was protected by a plastic cover, down to the cabin. Rick followed, intending to start unpacking his locker box.

  Chahda had had the same idea. His locker box was open, and the Hindu boy was crawling behind it, reaching under the bunk.

  “Lose something?” Rick asked.

  “Piece paper,” Chahda called. “Itblow from bunk.”

  There were no portholes in the below-decks cabins, but a ventilator blew in a constant stream of fresh air.

  “Got it,” Chahda said. He stood up, holding a scrap of brown paper. “Iunpacking, and I see this blow by.” He frowned suddenly, his eyes on the paper. “What is this?”

  Rick took it and turned it over, examining it. It was an irregular scrap of ordinary wrapping paper. On one side were two words, crudely printed in pencil.

  WACHOUT ASAMO

  Rick handed the scrap of paper to Scotty. “Look at this.”

  “Doesn’t make any sense,” Scotty said after looking it over.

  “Asamo,” Rick said thoughtfully. “Doesn’t that sound Japanese?”

  “Maybe,” Chahda agreed. “But what is ‘wachout’?”

  “Watch out,” Scotty said.“Spelled wrong.”

  Rick agreed. “I think you’re right. It should be: Watch out Asamo. But what is it?A warning?” He remembered the Japanese with the broken nose. Could his name have been Asamo?

  “Could be,” Scotty said. “But what if this is only a scrap torn from something else?

  Let’s not go off half cocked. We’d get everyone excited about nothing.”

  That made sense to Rick. “We’re up in the air over that business at the hotel last night,”

  he said. “This is probably just a scrap of paper that happened to have a couple of words on it.”

  “Maybe,” Chahda said doubtfully.

  “I wouldn’t mention it to the others,” Scotty said. “But just in case something is up, let’s be extra watchful. And I think it might be a good idea if we searched the ship before sailing. What do you say?”

  “I’d thought of that,” Rick agreed. “We could do it without anyone noticing.Just sort of prowl around until we had covered everything.”

  Digger Sears called from outside the cabin door.“You blokes in there? All hands needed on deck. We’re bringing the Submobile aboard.”

  The boys hurried out and found the mate in the passageway. “Topside,” Digger growled.

  “Ye’reneeded on the lines.”

  On the shore, the ship crane had been moved into position and its cable hooked through the lift ring of the Submobile-a circle of steel like an enormous doughnut, firmly welded to the top of the undersea craft. Heavy ropes had been attached to the cradle to aid in hauling it into position. Professor Gordon had consulted with Turk Mallane on the proper position, and chalk marks had been sketched on the open after-deck.

  At a signal, the crane operator lifted the Submobile into the air and moved it to the ship.

  The Spindrift party and the crew took the trailing ropes and, directed by Hartson Brant, swung the Submobile into line with the chalk marks. At a signal the operator dropped the unwieldy thing to the deck, only an inch or two out of position. It was slid onto the marks by main strength,then bolted down with heavy screws an inch in diameter.

  Rick looked at it with satisfaction. Nothing would budge the Submobile now unless the whole ship broke up.

  By suppertime, everything was in place aboard, the boathouse was cleaned up, and everything was shipshape. Turk Mallane returned fromHonolulu with a clean bill of health and clearance papers for the ship.

  “We’re set,” Turk stated. “Name your own hour for leaving.”

  “Ten o’clock,” Hartson Brant told him. “That will give us ample time for a good breakfast.Now, captain, about guards. Will you arrange for two men to stand by tonight?”

  Turk looked at him keenly.“Afraid of trouble?”

  “Not necessarily,” Hartson Brant returned. “But we’ve learned not to take chances.”

  Rick thought that Turk seemed amused. However, the captain agreed readily enough.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll check out of the hotel tonight and move aboard. Digger and I will take turns standing watch alongside the regular crew watch.”

  “That would be very good of you,” Zircon boomed.

  “If you still think there’s something to watch out for,” Turk continued, “we’ll have a look at the ship in the morning just before we sail. Then your minds can be at rest.”

  “A good idea,” Professor Gordon agreed. “I doubt that these precautions are necessary, but why take chances? It’s just as easy to be on guard.”

  Turk Mallane turned to Rick. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said jovially. “It’s the high seas for us tomorrow!”

  As they walked to the hotel, Scotty grinned at Rick.“Regular pals, you and Turk.”

  “I don’t like it,” Rick said shortly. There was something false about the captain’s heartiness. But perhaps that was just his way. “What do you think about him suggesting that we search the ship?” he asked. “Funny he should have said that.”

  “Maybe that Diggerhear us talk,” Chahda suggested.

  “Hetell Turk, and Turk think maybe he better suggest search to show he is num
ber one on the level.”

  “Our Oriental wizard may have something there,” Scotty agreed. “Anyway, Rick, we don’t care who orders a search, as long as there is one, do we?”

  “That’s right,” Rick said. “But I’ll be happier when we’re under way.”

  After dinner, the entire Spindrift party gathered in the pavilion. Dr. Warren had arrived in time to dine with them, and at the request of Hartson Brant was discussing their destination.

  “I wish one of our people could go with you,” he said. “I envy you the chance of seeing what Alta-Yuan is like. However, we are tied up at present in a half dozen research projects.”

  “I’m going to feel rather responsible, acting as expedition archeologist,” Professor Gordon said. “After all, archeology is only a hobby with me.”

  “You’re much too modest,” Dr. Warren smiled.

  “Gordon hides his light under a bushel,” Hartson Brant said. “Archeology has been his hobby since college days. He used to spend his vacations in odd places, doing excavating and exploring. And during the war he managed to find time from his Navy duties to look around the islands a bit.”

  “Quite a bit,” Dr. Warren agreed. “I think he’ll find, however, that Kwangara will be his most interesting task to date. You doubtless know the history of Alta-Yuan-what we know of it-but perhaps I can sum it up for you.”

  “Please do,” Zircon requested. “I was so involved in electronic problems that I neglected the other side of the project.”

  “Briefly,” Dr. Warren began, “we first came across reference to the Kwangara temple on a plaque in the ruins of the Khmer civilization atAngkor , in French Cambodia. The plaque told of heavy storms that blew an explorer’s ship off its course and carried it far to the east. The explorer discovered land, peopled by a race of white warriors. The warriors weren’t very hospitable, according to the tale. The explorer and his friends narrowly escaped becoming Sunday dinners. The name of the land they found was Alta-Yuan, a name that was said to come from the great temple where these white warriors worshiped.

  “There was no further mention of Alta-Yuan for a number of years. Then one of our expeditions to theMarianas stopped by Kwangara and found two interesting stones on a small peninsula. One was perfectly plain, no inscription on it. The other had been inscribed. The plain one was left, but the other was brought back. Not until a few months ago did we discover, by laborious translation, that it mentioned Alta-Yuan. We also discovered that these large stones were the outposts of a temple. The obvious conclusion was that we had found the fabledtempleofAlta-Yuan , and that the main portion must be under the sea. If our calculations are correct, it is about 300 yards from the peninsula.”