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

CHAPTER XVI
The Deadly Spring Gun

The storm blew itself out by noon of the following day, leaving an overcast sky and heavy swells. An inspection with the binoculars showed that all was quiet at the frogmen's house. Their boat was tied to the pier.

"They probably recovered the brass ball during the night," Rick observed, "or perhaps early this morning."

"The question is," Scotty remarked, "did they take the gadget to the octopus cave?"

Tony joined them on the porch in time to hear Scotty's query. "I can shed some light on that. It happens that I woke up at dawn and looked out to see how the weather was behaving. The frogmen were anchored off the eastern reef in the same place. We can assume that they picked up the brass ball and put it back in the cave near the wreck."

Rick rubbed his hand over his short hair in a gesture of bewilderment. "But what's their game? What do they get from the brass ball?"

"I rather imagine Steve Ames would like to know the same thing. If you boys have no objection, I think I'll spend the afternoon at my midden. What are you planning?"

Rick looked at Scotty. "Dive at the wreck?"

"Sure. Frogmen or no frogmen, there's still a golden statue of St. Francis somewhere down there."

After lunch the boys checked their equipment, being particularly careful because they had not rinsed out the regulators with fresh water after every dive. Their small supply of water, coupled with the odd hours at which the equipment had been used, was the reason. They took a little water from their supply and used it to clean the regulators. The rest of the equipment would just have to wait.

Tony departed for his Indian midden, tools slung over his shoulder. The boys started the compressor to fill the tanks used the previous night, then untied the Water Witch and headed for the diving area. Scotty scanned the frogmen's house through the glasses, but saw nothing of interest.

They anchored just outside the reef and looked for their buoy. It was gone, probably torn away by the storm.

"We can find the wreck again," Rick said. "No trouble. I could find my way around here in the dark." He grinned. "I have!"

"Shall we take a look in the octopus cave too?"

"A quick one. I doubt that we'd see more than we saw last night. Our job now is finding out what kind of information the frogmen get. And I don't know how we'll do that."

"Wait for a break," Scotty replied. "Come on. Let's get into the water."

It was cold. The storm had blown in colder water from the open sea. Rick felt goose flesh and wished they had brought along midseason suits.

The water was murky, too, because of the sand and silt stirred up by the storm. The murkiness started about twenty feet below the surface. Not until they were over fifty feet down did the water clear again. The light was reduced somewhat by the murk, but visibility was good. Rick had brought his camera to take motion pictures around the wreck. There would be enough light.

Scotty carried the big jet spear gun. It was powerful enough to spear sharks or big barracuda, just in case the frogmen decided to be "mischievous" again.

Rick led the way to the octopus cave, glancing up now and then to make sure they were alone in the water. The little octopus was in his usual position on the ledge.

Scotty, spear gun extended, swam right into the cave. Rick followed, holding the camera tightly to his chest to keep it from scraping on the coral. Scotty had his flashlight going, so Rick didn't bother with his own.

The cave was just about large enough for both of them. It was a typical coral formation, not much different from the reef outside, except that the brass ball was in the center of the rough floor.

The boys examined the cave thoroughly and saw nothing of interest. Rick pushed at Scotty's shoulder and swam out again. Scotty followed. The octopus watched them go.

The wreck of the Maiden Hand was just as they had left it, and the grouper was back in his comfortable cabin. He departed at high speed as the boys appeared. They had agreed to start work aft of the captain's cabin, and the wrecking bars were carried under their tank harnesses for the purpose. Both were convinced that there was nothing more to be found in the cabin, although the possibility remained that false boards in the floor or walls might conceal the statue.

Rick tied his camera to a projection, then took his wrecking bar and looked for a place to start. Scotty pointed to a place where there were boards aft of the cabin they had already uncovered, and they started to work.

By the time they had pried off the first few boards it was time to surface. They went topside and changed tanks, then rested for half an hour. There was no sign of activity at the frogmen's house, nor could they see Tony at work on his midden, since the location was hidden by palms.

Rick said thoughtfully, "The brass ball might be some kind of signaling device."

"What kind of signals?"

He didn't know the answer to that. "Anyway, since it's underwater, if it sends out anything it must be sound impulses. Otherwise we wouldn't hear it wail. And what good is sound if not for signals?" added Rick.

"Sonar," Scotty reminded.

The boys were familiar with sonar because of the Spindrift work on the Submobile. Very high frequency sound impulses were sent out, and the echoes were timed or used in other ways. It was the way in which bottom tracings were made by surface craft, and the way in which Navy ships detected submarines. It could be used for locating schools of fish.

"It could be sonar of some kind," Rick agreed. "But what good would it do anyone to stick a sonar device on an island like this?"

And there speculation stopped again, the question still unanswered.

They dove to the wreck and continued the hard labor of taking the aft end of the ship apart. When they finally got the new area cleared of rotted boards and timbers it was only to find a cabin already filled with sand.

Rick borrowed the spear from Scotty's gun and thrust it down into the sand. It slid in easily, meeting no obstruction. He probed with it but found nothing except more sand.

Discouraged, he wrote on his belt slate, "Mybe no bottm. Flr of cbn my be gne."

Scotty nodded. He lifted his hands in a gesture of inquiry. Now what?

Rick thought about it for a moment. Tony had been right! They probably would have to remove every board in sight, carrying the ship away piece by piece. But then what? There was the distinct possibility that the statue was somewhere under sand, and they had no way of removing the sand to see.

It was apparent that most of the ship was under the sand – if the remainder of the ship was still intact. But Rick couldn't escape the feeling that Captain Campion would have kept the statue close to him. And that meant in the aft part of the ship, the part that was exposed.

Scotty hooted twice, pointing at his watch. It was time to surface. The next dive would be their last for the day.

On the surface, Rick sounded discouraged as he said, "The cabin we uncovered might not even have a deck. There may be nothing but a mile of sand under it. And there isn't much of the aft part of the ship left to explore, either. I guess tomorrow we can plan to take the captain's cabin apart board by board."

"We'll need Tony and Zircon for hard labor like that," Scotty answered. "Notice how quickly you get tired down there? Also, we use air a lot faster when we work."

"Let's just sort of make a survey this time," Rick suggested. "We can probe for any cracks we might have missed, and I'll take some over-all shots of the wreck. Then we'll call it a day."

They followed Rick's plan. He took pictures of Scotty, with wrecking bar, prying at likely places in the exposed part of the ship. But Scotty uncovered nothing of interest. In one place his prying disturbed another moray, who demonstrated his anger at the intruders by trying to fasten his needle teeth in the wrecking bar.

A metallic clang caused them to lose interest in the eel suddenly. They looked at each other, then turned and swam toward the apparent direction of the sound. At that moment a distant wail struck their ears.

The brass ball!

Rick wondered. He had heard no boat noise. The brass ball must be operating automatically. He hooted for Scotty's attention, then pointed toward the cave.

Scotty checked his spear gun and motioned for Rick to lead. Rick pushed his camera in front of him and made his fins move rapidly. There might be some outward sign when the ball sounded, something that would tell them a little about its mechanism or purpose.

As the cave came in view he coasted, looking upward. The murky layer prevented his seeing very far, but there was no one in sight. He let inertia carry him toward the cave, then swung upright in the water as he saw that the octopus had moved a little distance from the cave mouth.

Instinctively Rick knew that something was wrong, but it was too late to get out of harm's way.

A frogman emerged from the cave, spring-type spear gun pointed directly toward them. The frogman held the brass instrument in his free hand.

Even as Rick hooted a warning, the frogman fired!

His spear lanced through the water directly at Scotty!

CHAPTER XVII
Trapped in Twenty Fathoms

Scotty writhed to one side, and the fact that the frogman had fired from too great a distance gave him time to dodge. The spear went by, and Scotty lifted his own gun to return the shot.

Rick, senses suddenly acute, glanced upward again in time to see two more figures descending through the murky layer. He hooted for danger!

Scotty glanced up, too. Then, instead of firing, he sped forward and thrust the tip of his spear at the frogman's chest. The frogman lifted his hands high. Scotty jerked the man's face plate loose, then turned swiftly and motioned to Rick.

Rick followed, fins driving, as Scotty led the way into deeper water in the direction of the wreck.

The frogman who had been in the cave was temporarily out of things. His Scuba was the type that combined the breathing apparatus with the full face plate. He could clear the face plate of the water Scotty had let in, but it would take a little time.

Suddenly Scotty shot upward. Rick turned and looked over his shoulder as he followed. The second two frogmen were in clear water now, and both had spear guns!

Scotty led the way into the murky layer, then leveled off and swam horizontally. Rick wondered what kind of evasive action his pal was planning, but he followed without trying to communicate with the other boy. In a situation like this, Scotty's instincts were dependable.

Rick stayed close to Scotty in the murky layer, swimming at his side and a little behind. After a few yards Scotty dove again, into clear water. Rick looked around but could see no sign of the enemy. Apparently the frogmen had followed and were still in the murk.

Scotty shot downward, Rick at his side. The wreck was directly below them. Scotty didn't hesitate. He let his momentum carry him right through the grouper's front door into the cabin. Rick followed, half expecting to see Scotty and the grouper meet head on, but the fish hadn't returned.

Inside the cabin, Scotty switched on his flashlight, took his slate, and wrote, "Thyl thnk we wnt bk to bot. We sty hr lng nuff thy fnd out we nt thr & cm bck lkng fr us. Thn we go up to bot."

Rick nodded his understanding. It was good strategy, provided they timed it right. The frogmen would assume the boys had returned to the Water Witch when they went up through the murky layer. They would examine the boat, then dive down again. At that time, if he and Scotty could time it right, the two groups would pass in the murky layer and the boys would emerge while their enemies were still descending.

He looked at his watch. They had only a few minutes of air left. The frogmen would have more air, not only because they had entered the water after the boys were already on the bottom, but because they had not descended so deeply.

He wrote, "Rlax. Brethe easy."

The less effort they made, the longer their air would last. For a moment he debated suggesting that they share one tank by trading the mouthpiece back and forth, but that would leave one of them practically without air when they had to leave. He tried to imagine the movements of their enemies. The frogmen would be on the surface now, approaching the boat ladder with caution. They couldn't be sure the boys were not waiting in ambush.

Both boys had switched off their lights and were resting motionless in the darkness of the cabin. A little light filtered through the hole near the roof, but not enough to see by.

Suddenly the light was blocked out!

Rick reached for his belt knife and Scotty thrust the spear gun forward, then both relaxed a little. The grouper had returned.

The big fish turned at the opening and backed into his hole. He hovered in the opening, holding position while he stared out into his watery kingdom. Apparently the fish had no idea that the boys were in the cabin. When it came time to leave and they touched him or hooted at him, he would get the surprise of his life.

Even in their predicament, Rick could see the humor in the grouper's reaction. He wondered if groupers were subject to heart failure from shock.

Rick returned to trying to imagine the movements of the frogmen. Now they would be cautiously boarding the Water Witch, one up the ladder, the other climbing the anchor chain. They would be careful, still unsure whether or not the quarry was aboard.

He thought he felt constriction in his lungs from the warning signal that his air was running out, but finally decided it was only his imagination.

Now the frogmen would be aboard the Water Witch, making a quick search, spear guns ready to fire their lethal shafts. Now they would be in the cabin and shouting their disappointment.

Now the frogmen would be hurrying back into the water, readjusting their face masks, ready to dive.

The grouper shot out of the cabin with a flick of his powerful tail that raised the silt around them.

Rick's heartbeat faltered. The grouper had been alarmed. They had mistimed!

Right now, the frogmen were outside the Maiden Hand!

CHAPTER XVIII
The Fight on the "Maiden Hand"

They had only one hope now – that the frogmen would make a quick survey of the wreck, then go away. The boys waited tensely, ears alert for any sound that would tell them the whereabouts of their enemy.

There was only the sound of their bubbles.

Rick pressed close to the opening and peered out. The water that could be seen from the entrance was clear. However, it was only a narrow sector. For all he knew, the frogmen might be right overhead.

He backed down into the cabin and pushed his camera into a corner. He could get it later. Right now he preferred to have both hands free. He wished for a spear gun, to double their armament. But the other guns were on the Water Witch. The wrecking bars were useless, too. It was almost impossible to strike a blow against the resistance of the water.

Something scraped outside, and both boys froze. There was no doubt that the frogmen were at the wreck. Why didn't they go away? They couldn't know about the entrance to the cabin – or could they?

The moments dragged by. There couldn't be much air left in their tanks. Rick risked holding his wrist close to the opening and saw that his watch showed one minute of diving time before shortness of breath would signal time to turn on their air reserve and surface.

Time was critical. If the frogmen didn't go away before their air ran out, they would have to surface, if they were allowed to by the enemy. With luck, Scotty could account for one. But that would leave two, both armed. By this time the first frogman would have blown the water from his mask and recovered his spear.

No, it would be dangerous for Scotty even to take time for a shot, unless he could fire without pausing. Their best bet was to make a run for it, depending on speed.

On land, he was sure he and Scotty could outrun the enemy, but in the water, speed depended on skill with the fins, and the power of leg strokes. He doubted that the frogmen were much faster than he and Scotty, but there was an excellent chance that their speed in the water was equal.

He conserved his air, spacing his breathing, taking only enough air to keep comfortable.

There was another scraping sound, and he knew the frogmen were still around. Were they actually searching the wreck? If so, they might find the entrance.

And then Rick suddenly discovered a new danger!

Their air bubbles had been floating to the top of the cabin, forming a pool under the ceiling. But they had stayed in the cabin so long that enough water had been displaced to bring the pool of exhausted air close to the entrance, which was only a few inches below roof level.

In a moment the air would spill out, and rising bubbles would warn the frogmen!

He gripped Scotty's shoulder and pointed to the silvery mass of exhausted air that curled perilously close to the entrance.

The other boy saw the danger at once. He wrote on his slate, "We go whn air duz," and held it in the light for Rick to see.

Rick nodded. He drew his belt knife.

There couldn't be many breaths left before the air spilled out. Nor could there be many before warning constriction forced them to turn on the reserves. At this depth the reserve wasn't very great.

He saw Scotty reach for his reserve lever and pull it down. A moment later he had to pull his own.

Something rang like a struck tank, almost directly overhead!

The lip of the bubble pool moved from the water motion caused by pulling their reserves. Rick watched it, scarcely breathing.

The air pool trembled. A tiny bubble broke loose and sped upward.

Rick squeezed Scotty's arm, then with a powerful thrust of his flippers he shot out into light, right into the stomach of a frogman!

He thrust with his knife, and a hand gripped his wrist and twisted. Scotty shot from the hole in the wreck and turned, fins flailing. His spear gun belched carbon dioxide, and the deadly spear ripped into the leg of one frogman.

Rick flailed arms and legs, trying to break free of the grip that held him. He saw the wounded frogman fire his spear at Scotty. The boy moved just in time, and the shaft shot between his arm and side.

Scotty let go of his useless gun and grappled with the frogman, reaching for his knife with one hand while he gripped the frogman's wrist with the other.

Rick knew their air was running out fast. He felt a knife glance from his tank and heard the ring of metal. He struggled for footing and turned in time to thrust a flippered foot into the stomach of the frogman behind him.

Next to him he caught a glimpse of Scotty and his opponent rolling in the water, and he saw the shimmer of metal as a knife flashed.

Arms locked around his throat. He reached backward over his head and his hands touched rubber. He gripped and pulled with all his strength and felt the man's face plate come free.

The frogman who had lost his mask suddenly threw off tanks and weight belt and sped for the surface.

The odds were even! Rick locked with his opponent and felt powerful arms drag him close. The man had more strength than he! He fought to break loose, and couldn't!

Then the mouthpiece was pulled away from Rick's lips in mid-breath, and he choked on sea water.

Without air – twenty fathoms down!

Frantically he fought, locking his air passage so his last lungful couldn't escape. He got a hand free and caught his opponent's hose where it joined the tank. He pulled with all his strength and felt it give. Bubbles rose in a cloud.

He would have sobbed if he could. It was the wrong hose! He had only torn loose the exhaust. He groped and found the intake hose, then, lifting his knee and thrusting for leverage, he pulled with all his strength. The hose gave! The grip on him loosened.

Rick was now desperate for air! He pulled the quick release on his weight belt and felt it drop away, then he kicked for the surface, frantic with fear for Scotty. Had he gotten free? Had he? His last view had been of his pal locked with the remaining frogman!

Bubbles streamed from his mouth as the compressed air in his lungs expanded under the decreasing pressure. He let himself exhale as he rose, fighting against panic and the impulse to lock the remaining air in his lungs. That would be fatal, he knew, and he willed himself to act properly. He kept his fins moving, knowing that, if he kept his head, he would make the surface.

He passed through the murky layer and saw the surface like a wrinkled silver sheet far overhead. Straining, he swam for it, letting out his breath as the pressure on his lungs demanded.

There was another boat hull in the water, almost over him! He angled away, to avoid coming up under it.

And suddenly there were forms around the boat. A cry tore from his lips and was swallowed in the water.

More frogmen! More enemies, when they were already defeated!