Goodwin Harold Leland
The Wailing Octopus: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

CHAPTER X
The Wailing Octopus

As Rick steered the Water Witch to its anchorage above the reef, he told Scotty about the theory he had developed that morning.

He concluded, "Their going out to take a look where we were diving is another piece of evidence. Unless they were afraid that we might be interested in their stuff – whatever and wherever it is – why would they be so concerned about what we're doing?"

"It makes a lot of sense," Scotty agreed soberly. He looked at Rick with a sudden twinkle. "It might be a good idea to take a look around down below – just so we'll know what to stay away from, of course."

Rick grinned.

By the time they dropped anchor, Scotty had the diving gear rigged and it was only the work of minutes to get into the water. Each carried a spear gun in one hand and a wrecking bar in the other. Ordinarily they would not have bothered with the guns, but being armed seemed just common sense.

On the bottom, Rick scouted around the wreck, looking for signs of its former structure while Scotty attacked the stern with a crowbar. Under Scotty's prying, a timber suddenly gave with an audible crack, and a huge grouper that must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds rushed past Rick, startling him half to death until he saw what it was.

Scotty hooted in derision as Rick back-pedaled, then he put his bar down and swam to Rick's side. He scrawled on his belt slate, "Whre he cm frm?"

Rick shrugged. It was a good question. They swam slowly around, looking for the grouper's hiding place and failed to locate it. Rick knew the big fish liked caves, rocky clefts, and the interiors of wrecks. This one must have a hole somewhere.

He tried again, going right down to the bottom and crawling along with stomach touching the sand. Even so, he might have missed the hole if stirred-up dust from the fish's sudden departure hadn't indicated where it was. The hole, big enough for him to crawl through, was under the wreck, hidden by rotted planks covered with marine growth. He hooted for Scotty's attention and showed it to him.

He took his belt slate and wrote, "Way into shp?"

Scotty nodded and wrote in his turn, "Too drk. Need lites."

Rick nodded. For a moment he was tempted to try ripping off the planks with his bar, but he decided against it. Any disturbance might very well collapse the entire structure. He wondered whether the hole was just a shallow opening, or whether it actually led into the ship. No matter. They had watertight flashlights with their spare gear in the boat. They could find out on the next dive.

For their remaining time underwater he joined Scotty in his assault on the stern of the ship. They were rewarded by finding what was evidently the interior of a cabin. Rick ripped off another plank, then jumped as Scotty hooted four times for danger. The cabin was the home of a fairly large moray eel! Both boys dropped their bars and grabbed for their spear guns, but Scotty held up his hand in a sign to wait. Rick did so, and saw the big eel emerge and swim rapidly toward the reef.

Scotty had shown wisdom. The moray is hard to kill, and this one would have given them a battle that might have used up more air than they could spare.

The water inside the cabin was murky. Rick looked at his watch. They had only a few minutes left. He wrote on his slate, "Sty dwn til rsrve wrning."

Scotty nodded agreement.

They watched as the water settled and the interior of the cabin grew clearer. Evidently it had been a very small cabin. There was a rotted frame that might once have been a single bunk, and a few broken, almost disintegrated boards that might have been a table. Mattress and bedding had long since vanished. Then Rick spotted a squarish shape under the ruin of the bunk and motioned to Scotty. They went in after it.

The top crumbled under their touch and silt rose into the water around them. But Rick persisted and felt fabric under his hands. He pulled it out and recognized a seaman's jacket, brass buttons corroded and fabric nearly rotted through. Apparently they had found a sea chest, but their exploring hands discovered nothing but rotted fabrics.

Rick felt the warning constriction that told him he had only minutes left. He pulled down the reserve lever of his tank and touched Scotty's arm. He hooted twice for the ascent.

Back in the Water Witch, they connected their tanks to the compressor, put the regulators on charged tanks, then tested their underwater flashlights.

Rick said, "Do you realize I haven't taken a single picture?"

"Why not take some on the next dive?"

"Good idea." Rick went into the cabin and brought out his camera.

The camera was the same one he had adapted for night movies, during their adventure known as Smugglers' Reef. He had built an underwater case for it from stainless steel and Lucite. An intricate gear arrangement allowed him to focus or change aperture underwater, and a light meter in the rear of the case told him what setting to use. There was an ordinary inner-tube valve projecting from one side by which the case could be charged with compressed air to compensate for the pressure of the water. The unit was battery-powered and had a bracket for mounting the infrared light used for night photography.

He unscrewed the front of the case and took the camera from its mount. He hesitated. "Suppose there's enough light down there for color film?"

"There might be," Scotty replied, "but you wouldn't gain much by using color. Everything would photograph in shades of green. Might as well have it in shades of gray."

"You've got a point." Rick loaded the camera with fast black-and-white film and returned it to the case. Then he replaced the cover and disconnected the compressor long enough to pump pressure into the camera case. "Ready to go," he announced.

"Take it easy," Scotty said. "We'd better rest a half hour or so. If we don't knock ourselves out, we can get in three more dives today."

Rick knew the wisdom of that. He adjusted the camera and took a series of "establishing" shots, to establish that the movie had been taken on a boat near an island. Then, when the time came to dive, he photographed Scotty entering the water. At his direction, Scotty got out again, while Rick got in, swam down a few feet, and took a shot of Scotty entering from that angle. Then the camera followed as Scotty flippered smoothly down into the deep water.

Rick followed, camera extended in front of him, sighting through the gun-type sights mounted on top of the case. There was a handgrip on each side, with the controls handy to his fingers. By watching the light meter he could change his exposure as the shifting light required.

He moved ahead of Scotty, panned across the wreck, then reversed the camera to photograph Scotty approaching. On a hunch, he stood well back when Scotty approached the underwater entrance and got a picture that was priceless! The grouper had returned to his home, and frightened by the light that suddenly probed his hide-out, he flashed out and caught Scotty by surprise. Scotty dropped his flashlight and back-pedaled frantically. Grinning, Rick kept his camera grinding. Scotty turned and saw that Rick was shooting, and held both hands to his face in mock dismay. Rick cut and secured the camera to an outcropping with its safety line.

Scotty picked up his light and crawled slowly into the opening. Rick waited, watching anxiously to be sure his friend's hoses and regulator cleared the entrance. Then Scotty vanished inside. In a moment he reappeared, headfirst, and beckoned.

Rick followed him in, his own flashlight extended. It was a little murky from the grouper's hurried departure, but he saw instantly that they were in what had been for those days a large cabin. This must have been the skipper's quarters. His light picked out the remains of furniture, including one massive chair that was still in good condition.

Scotty gestured with his light and Rick saw an oaken door. He swam over to it and inspected it closely. It was still firm, still in place. Where did it lead?

There was only one way to find out. He took hold of the old-fashioned handle and pulled. The door didn't budge. Rick tried again and failed. He swung himself around and put both feet on the wall next to the door, then applied leverage.

The handle came completely off. Rick sailed backward across the cabin and his tank rang like a bell as it struck something metallic. Scotty hurried to his side, and Rick gestured that he was all right. They turned to inspect the object against which Rick had hurtled and found that it was the still-sound strap for a beam, probably made of wrought iron.

Rick took his belt slate and wrote, "Whre wld he hide it?"

Scotty read it with his light, then shrugged. They began a methodical inspection of the cabin, surprised that it was so clear of marine life. Rick surmised that the opening had developed only recently, perhaps from the shifting of the ship. They found a closet and a heap of what had once been clothes on its floor. Then Scotty made the big discovery of the day. He reached into a shelf space above the bunk, hand exploring, and touched something hard. He drew it out. It looked like a green-covered bundle about a foot long and two inches thick. But before he had a chance to inspect it further, his air gave out and both boys hurried to the surface on their reserves.

Aboard the Water Witch they shed their equipment and sat down to inspect Scotty's find. The covering proved to be layer after layer of oilcloth, wrapped around the object. The outer layers had deteriorated somewhat, but the inner ones were intact.

Scotty finished unwrapping and found a second wrapping of still-dry linen. He pulled the linen off, and both boys gasped. It was a jeweled dagger, with a good-sized ruby winking in its hilt!

"Take it out of the sheath," Rick suggested.

Scotty did so, and disclosed a blade covered with some hard brown substance. "That's not rust. Got a jackknife?"

Rick found one and handed it to him. Scotty scraped and was rewarded by the gleam of bright metal.

"It must have been coated with heavy grease," Rick remarked. "During the years, the grease hardened into a permanent rustproof coating. Wait until the scientists see this!"

Scotty grinned his pleasure. "This is one treasure the log didn't mention. Poor Captain Campion must have thought a lot of it to protect it so thoroughly."

"He might have been taking it to the New World as a gift for some influential friend," Rick ventured. "It looks like Spanish work."

Scotty looked at Rick speculatively. "Are you making a claim on this?"

Rick knitted his brows. What was Scotty driving at? "You found it," he said. "Technically, we're supposed to share and share alike, the four of us and Barby. But how do you split a dagger? And we wouldn't sell it, anyway. It's too nice a souvenir."

"I'll ask Tony and Zircon," Scotty said, "but if none of you have any objection, I would like to claim it, because I want to give it to Dad for a birthday present next month."

Rick punched him on the arm. "You'll get no objection from me. Or from Tony and Zircon either."

"I can buy presents for the family," Scotty said slowly. "I do, on birthdays and Christmas. But I've always wanted to give Dad something really special, something to tell him how I feel about being taken into the family."

Rick nodded. He knew how Scotty felt, and he liked him all the better for it. "Let's get ready for the next dive," he said abruptly.

They went through the necessary checks on their equipment, transferring the regulators to the third set of tanks. Rick decided to leave the camera on the boat this time. He was anxious to inspect the ship thoroughly, and photography took time.

After a half hour of rest the boys went back into the water again, carrying their wrecking bars and spear guns, flashlights on their belts.

An inch-by-inch inspection of the cabin disclosed no more treasures, but Rick found a plate, still intact. He wondered if it were the plate from which the captain had last dined before the pirate attack, and put it outside the entrance to be carried to the surface.

Once satisfied that the cabin held no secrets, the boys attacked the door. It was hard work, and they raised so much dust that their light beams were almost useless. However, they struggled on until the door finally gave, only to admit quantities of sand.

Rick guessed that the door had opened onto a deck that was now buried far under the sand. They went outside to allow the murkiness to settle in the cabin, and Rick consulted his watch. Their time was nearly up. He hooted to Scotty and they surfaced.

The first tanks they had used were ready now. They shifted the regulators and hooked up another pair to the compressor.

"I'm afraid Tony was right," Rick said. "We'll have to take the ship apart piece by piece."

Scotty examined his foot where the fin was rubbing a little. "What would be a logical hiding place? If I were the captain, I'd probably hide the statue under false flooring or something. Anyway, I'd hide it aft, in officer's country, and not near the forecastle where the crew lived."

"That's probably right. Anyway, we won't have time to do much wrecking today. What say we hunt for loose boards in the cabin?"

Scotty grinned. "The treasure fever has got our boy Rick. Have you forgotten we were going to see what those fancy frogmen were curious about?"

Rick grinned back, a little sheepishly. "You're right. I had forgotten. Well, we can spend half the time looking for the treasure and the other half looking for the frogmen's cache."

The search for the treasure disclosed no loose boards, or anything resembling a secret hiding place. At the end of ten minutes they turned from the wreck and swam along the bottom toward the reef.

Since they had no idea what they were looking for, the search couldn't be a very carefully planned one. Rick led the way, following the reef, taking time to examine the coral formations. There were countless sea urchins, and enough small fish to feed the entire population. Bigger fish, however, were not plentiful. Once Rick saw a snook that would have been worth taking, but the fish sped off into the watery gloom. Again, Scotty called his attention to a deadly scorpion fish. This small, rather weird-looking little creature had a dangerous defense mechanism in the spines of his back. His poison bore a strong resemblance to cobra venom. The boys gave him a wide berth.

Now and then a moray glared at them with unwinking eyes from a crevice, but the boys paid no attention. The morays wouldn't attack unless disturbed, and there was no reason for disturbing them. Rick wondered if the big one they had ousted from the wreck had found a new home.

They passed a colony of sea worms, colorful even in the green light. The worms were pretty, but their long hairs could give a painful sting.

Their time was growing short. Rick consulted his watch, then his depth gauge. They were at eighty-five feet. Because of the shallower water they would have a little more time, perhaps another five minutes before constricted breathing told them only a few minutes of air remained.

Scotty found a puffer and waved at him, but the fish paid no attention. Scotty motioned to Rick, then reached out and scratched the creature's stomach. It began to gulp water until it resembled a balloon. They left it to return to normal in its own time. On the surface, the puffer would have gulped air in the same way. They had caught them on lines many times.

They were past the Water Witch now, Rick estimated. He hooted at Scotty, then led the way up to a depth of about forty feet. There he started back along the cliff.

Suddenly he wished he had brought a game bag attached to his belt. The reef here was alive with shellfish. He identified cowries, whelks, and some excellent specimens of Triton's horn. They would have to come back again, to collect some to take home. The biggest problem was getting the animals out of their shells, unless there were some anthills on the island. Ants would do the job neatly in a few days.

Scotty hooted, and pointed. Directly ahead was a small shelf. Rick moved to Scotty's side and saw the dark opening of a cave. Next to the opening was a small octopus. As they approached he changed color, trying to imitate the multicolored coral against which he rested.

Rick reached out a hand and the animal retreated, sliding into the mouth of the cave. Apparently this was his home, because the ledge was littered with shells from a number of meals.

Now Rick wished for his camera, then smiled inwardly. To satisfy all his unexpected wishes he would need a sort of underwater trailer to tow his gear.

Scotty moved close to the octopus and it retreated still further. Both boys knew the creatures were harmless to divers, and some divers even handled them. But there were reports of divers being bitten while playing with octopuses, and they had learned long ago that unnecessary risks were foolish.

Rick suddenly rocked back as his ears were smitten by sound. A wail echoed in his head, so intense that it almost hurt. Scotty started, too, and reached for the ledge in his astonishment.

The octopus peered out of the cave, and the wail came again, buzzing uncomfortably in their heads. And in that moment, Rick's air gave out. He pulled the reserve lever and planed to the surface, Scotty close on his heels.

On the Water Witch they stared at each other.

"Did you hear that?" Scotty demanded.

"I'll say I did!"

"That octopus wailed," Scotty insisted. "Twice!" He hesitated, then put Rick's thoughts into words. "Only – octopuses don't wail. They don't make noise of any kind."

"This one did," Rick said. "A wailing octopus! This is either a new scientific find, or …"

"Or we've found what the fancy frogmen didn't want us to find," Scotty concluded.

CHAPTER XI
Lights on Clipper Reef

"This," Hobart Zircon boomed, "is a phenomenon that will rock the science of zoology to its very depths! We will examine this creature and determine his genus and species, and we will name him after you two. Octopus waili branti-scotti. Or perhaps Octopus screami would be better."

"Of course we're not certain that it was a wail," Rick said soberly. "He might have been singing. He might even have been telling us to go catch him a fish."

Tony Briotti observed, "This may not be an isolated phenomenon. Who knows? A search may disclose screaming squid, or simpering sharks, or burbling barracuda."

"Seriously," Zircon asked, "have either of you a theory to account for this? Or do you really believe that the octopus wailed?"

"We'd be in a better position to answer that if we'd had a chance to explore the cave," Scotty replied. "How can we tell? Maybe the octopus really did wail, and we were the lucky ones who heard the sound for the first time." He grinned. "We should have wailed back and tried to strike up a conversation."

Rick agreed. "I'm with Scotty. We just don't know. I agree that a wailing octopus is a new kind of beast, but that's not entirely impossible, is it?"

"Perhaps not." Tony stared at the sunset. "I'm trying to recall the physiology of Octopus vulgaris, as the garden variety of octopus is called, but my memory isn't working. It isn't beyond reason. After all, some fish make sounds. I've caught croakers myself that were pretty noisy. But I've never heard of octopus sounds until now."

Scotty chuckled. "Haven't I read that octopuses have some intelligence? We might teach him to sing. He'd be a natural for television."

"You say that the sound was loud?" Tony asked.

"Very loud. My head hurt. Did yours, Scotty?"

"I'll say! For a minute I thought my brain cells were rubbing together."

Zircon sighed. "I am stumped. And not only by your Wailing Willie, either. This whole affair baffles me, including the presence of Steve's former tail on this island. Hasn't it occurred to you that those fancy frogmen, as you call them, would have made some overt move by now if they were really interested in us?"

"Dropping the chicken was an overt move," Rick pointed out.

"Yes and no. I'd prefer to call it a not-too-subtle warning. Yet they haven't tried to interfere with your diving around the wreck."

"I've wondered about that," Scotty offered, "and it seems to me they've satisfied themselves that our interest is just in the wreck, and not in whatever they have hidden underwater. If they have anything hidden, I mean. As long as we stick with the wreck, they have no reason for causing trouble."

Tony agreed. "That makes sense to me. Perhaps you can answer this: Why do they wear cold-water suits? It's appreciably cooler at twenty fathoms, but it's certainly not cold enough for a suit."

"We only stay down fifteen minutes," Scotty said. "If we stayed down longer we might get chilled. The water isn't warm by any means down by the wreck."

Rick had a thought. "We're used to cold water, remember? Diving off Spindrift would chill a polar bear, even in summer. Suppose these people had done all their diving in tropic waters? This water would seem cold to them, particularly down deep."

It was nearly dark now, only a glimmer of light in the west. The four sat on the front porch of the cottage.

Zircon asked, "Did you monitor the radio tonight, Rick?"

"Yes, but there was no word from Steve."

"Don't you think he might like to know about the presence of his shadow on Clipper Cay?" Tony inquired.

Rick pointed to the Sky Wagon resting on the beach. "Trouble is, that's our only communication. I could contact the St. Thomas airport and request that they pass a message, but that would be like broadcasting it to the world. Steve might not like it."

Zircon's deep voice cut into his comment. "Look! Our friends are apparently going to do some night work."

There were lights on the frogmen's boat, and it was putting out. As the Spindrifters watched, it slowly approached the reef, then stopped. Scotty got the glasses and examined the scene. "Something's up!" he exclaimed. "I saw a diver go over the side!"

Hobart Zircon coughed self-consciously. "Do you know, I have taken a certain amount of pride in the fact that I am by nature a conservative individual with a highly developed capacity for minding my own business."

Rick wondered what on earth the big scientist was getting at.

"The pursuit of truth has led me along many devious routes," Zircon continued. "I have tried, with some success and many failures, to plumb the mysteries of Nature. But while I have tried to make the business of our natural universe my own, I have never thrust my not-inconsiderable nose into the business of neighbors. However, this admirable reticence has limits, since, as a scientist, I am also possessed of that inherent trait of curiosity without which no person can succeed in science."

Rick exploded into laughter. "And what you're leading up to is, you want to go see what those people are doing!"

"Precisely," Zircon admitted.

Tony and the boys roared with laughter.

"Hobart," Tony said with a chuckle, "you never fail to astonish me. And how do you propose to stick your not-inconsiderable nose into the business now going on over there?"

Zircon waved his hand. "The method was developed by our young Mr. Brant, who sometimes shows slight sparks of intelligence. He has a device which projects infrared light, and glasses that allow the wearer to see whatever that light illuminates."

Rick stared. Zircon was proposing that they take his underwater camera and use it for illumination. That must mean … "You want to swim over with the lungs?" he asked incredulously.

"And why not?"

"But we've never done any night diving!"

"You tested the camera at night, did you not?"

"Yes," Rick admitted, "but that was in water that we knew, off Pirate's Field at home. And we only stayed in long enough to expose a few feet of film."

"We know enough about these waters to know that there are no dangerous obstructions beyond the reef, at least between here and the Maiden Hand."

Scotty laughed. "This is a day I never thought would come. It's usually the other way around, with Rick trying to sell some idea that everyone else opposes. Why not swim at night, Rick?"

"No reason," Rick admitted. "It was just that it hadn't occurred to me. There's one difficulty, though. I have only two pairs of glasses with infrared-sensitive lenses. So only two of us could go."

"Only two could dive with the camera," Tony corrected. "But all of us could go. Two would remain on the surface, with the floats, in case of trouble."

"Who would dive and who would stay on the surface?" Scotty demanded.

Rick produced a quarter. "Let coins decide. Except for the professor. He thought of it, so he dives."

"Fair enough," Scotty agreed. "All right with you, Tony?"

"Of course. The three of us, then. Odd man goes with Hobart."

Tony and Scotty produced coins. With Rick, they walked into the living room and lighted a kerosene lamp.

"Now," Rick said, and tossed his coin, catching it in the palm of his hand and slapping it onto his other wrist. Tony and Scotty followed suit. Rick uncovered first. He had heads. Tony uncovered and displayed a tail.

Scotty groaned. "Shucks! I lose. It's one of you."

Rick held his breath as Scotty uncovered – another tail! He turned to Zircon. "We dive, while Scotty and Tony stay topside."

"Good. Well, what are we waiting for?"

They changed quickly into trunks, then assembled their diving gear. Rick took the front plate from his camera and put the infrared searchlight on its mounting bracket. He changed to a fresh battery, then replaced the film in the camera with the special infrared-sensitive film.

Whatever the infrared illuminated could be seen through special glass. Rick had ordered lenses ground from the glass and had placed them in frames made to fit into a face mask. These frames could be purchased at any diving-equipment supply house. They had been designed for divers who had to wear their own corrective glasses, and they suited Rick's purpose to perfection. He handed a pair to Hobart Zircon, then inserted the other pair in his own mask.

Zircon, Tony, and Scotty decided to take spear guns. Zircon chose Rick's rubber-powered gun, while Tony selected the light spring gun. Scotty chose the highest-powered gun they had, a new jet-type powered with carbon dioxide.

Rick and Zircon connected their regulators to two freshly filled tanks, then tested the equipment. Zircon tied a rope to his belt.

The big scientist drew them together for a brief conference.

"We'll swim out and cross the reef," he directed. "Then we'll swim along the reef, staying as close as possible to the breakers. They will help conceal us. When we approach the boat, Tony and Scotty will stop and hold position. Scotty, are the binoculars waterproof?"

"Yes, they are."

"Then take them. Rick and I will go directly to the bottom at the base of the reef. We will then proceed along the reef until we spot our friends yonder."

Rick had an unhappy thought. "Suppose they see us?"

"We will try to prevent them from seeing us. However, if they do, I suggest a retreat in as good order as we can manage. If they should catch up with us, we will bluster and bluff our way on the basis that we were only diving to see if they were trying to search our wreck."

Scotty laughed. "Turn their own table on them. That's very good, Professor."

"I'm glad I'm not a physicist," Tony said piously. "We archaeologists aren't half so devious."

"I am acting in my capacity as a former consultant to JANIG, and not as a physicist," Zircon retorted with dignity. "You will refrain from casting aspersions on my profession, Doctor Briotti."

"My apologies," Tony said, grinning. "In other words, the man is devious, but the scientist is not."

"Exactly. Well, shall we go?"

Rick was glad to get into the water. The camera in its underwater case was heavy in air, but weighed only a few ounces in water. He swam with face mask under, breathing through his snorkel and letting the camera hang.

They crossed the reef without difficulty, then turned to swim along it. The trough just seaward of the breaking point of the waves was the most comfortable swimming position and they went in single file, Zircon leading.

Every now and then Rick looked up. They were getting near the boat, he thought. Perilously near. The boat was anchored just inside the reef, and he could see activity on its deck. Apparently the frogmen had returned from their first dive and were changing tanks.

Zircon stopped swimming and lay motionless in the water. Rick drew abreast of the big scientist, and Tony and Scotty stopped behind them. As they watched, suited figures with belt lights and back tanks climbed down a ladder into the water. A third man, on deck, lowered something to them. It was hard to see, but Rick thought it had a golden glisten and that it was round, about the size of a basketball. The frogmen took it and went under.

Zircon's big hand took Rick by the shoulder, then he turned and motioned to the others that they were going under. Rick shifted from snorkel to aqualung mouthpiece. He took the end of rope that Zircon held out and snapped it to his weight belt. He and Zircon were now connected by a ten-foot length of rope, necessary to keep them from becoming separated in the darkness.

He submerged and dove straight down into the blackness. His thumb compressed the button on the side of the case and the camera started, the infrared light turning on. A narrow cone of water extending out about twenty feet was illuminated, but the illumination was visible only through the special glasses he and Zircon wore.

Rick held the button until they reached bottom, then suddenly realized he would use all his film before they had even found the frogmen. He groaned silently. Why hadn't he used his head? The light as well as the camera motor were operated by the same button. If he had only thought, it would have been a few seconds' work to change the circuit so the light would be on continuously. Or he might even be able to rig a waterproof switch that would operate just the light.