The Wailing Octopus: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

"My question is, did you get a picture?" Zircon wanted to know.

"I'm sure I did. The camera was going, and it probably saw much more than I did – since cameras don't get scared. But it won't do us much good right now. We can't develop the film."

The boys picked up the equipment and carried it to the Water Witch. Rick turned off the compressor. He was too tired to wait until all tanks were full. Time enough for that in the morning.

When he and Scotty returned to the cottage, Tony greeted them with cups of hot chocolate and they sat on the porch and enjoyed them.

"Let's sum up what we know," Zircon invited. "If anyone agrees that we know anything worth summing."

"I think we do," Rick said, "and I think we ought to get it to Steve Ames. We don't know what he's after, or what kind of gang he's fighting, but we know one of them is here."

"Yes, and we also know that Steve's agency is primarily concerned with protecting military secrets," Zircon added. "I agree with Rick. We must get word of these mysterious frogmen to him."

"We discussed that earlier," Tony recalled. "In view of our discussion, it would seem that either Rick or Scotty or both must fly to Charlotte Amalie and tell him personally."

Scotty pointed at the sky. "Have any of you looked up there?"

All of them did. The moon was just rising, and there was enough light to see heavy cirrus moving high overhead.

"There's a front of some kind moving down on us," Scotty said. "And did you notice the swells tonight? Long ones. I'm no first-class weather forecaster, but all the signs are there. We're in for a storm. The question is, how soon will it arrive?"

"He's right," Zircon agreed. "I'm glad you're observant, Scotty. Frankly, I hadn't even bothered looking at the weather. I suppose I thought it would just continue to be perfect."

Rick stared at the gathering clouds for long moments, then put into words the thing that had been bothering him.

"You know, there has been a cloud over this vacation almost from the moment we landed at Charlotte Amalie. We didn't want to get involved in anything but diving and exploring, but we got pulled by the ears into a hot case. Steve warned us off that first day. The warning didn't help, because we got dragged back into things when we went swimming, and again at the hotel."

Three faces were turned toward him, listening. He was expressing what all of them had been thinking, too.

"We thought we'd leave trouble behind when we came here," Rick continued, "but it was waiting for us. We didn't look for it, until tonight."

He drew a deep breath. "Well, from now on we have to become the hunters. Steve Ames doesn't know there's anything strange going on here. We do, and it's up to us to find out what. The goings-on in the octopus cave have something to do with the case Steve is working on – and what Steve is working on has something important to do with national security."

He smiled grimly. "I know none of you will disagree with this, because it's the only thing we can do. Professor Zircon knew it tonight when he tried to excuse our looking in on the frogmen as curiosity."

Zircon nodded silently.

"From now on," Rick concluded, "we have to operate as unofficial JANIG agents, until we can get word to Steve Ames so he and his men can take over."

CHAPTER XIII

Message in the Storm

The wind blew. It piled the surf high on the reef and blew the tops from waves between the reef and the shore. Hour by hour the wind stiffened, until the breakers on the shore were higher than those through which the Spindrifters had swum on the reef.

The first hours of the morning were spent getting ready for a blow. The Water Witch was secured by springlines, and extra fenders were put over her side. The four hauled the Sky Wagon high onto the beach by sheer muscle power, then turned the plane into the wind. Rick and Scotty salvaged the concrete-block foundation from the wreck of the cottage where they had found the planks, and used the blocks for land anchors on the plane.

The shutters were checked, and closed on the front of the cottage. The shed where the tank had broken through was repaired as well as improvised tools and materials allowed, and all loose gear was stowed inside.

The rain came. It drove with the wind into the front of the cottage in a continuous thunder. Its force carried it under the door, through cracks beside the window frames. The Spindrifters were forced to shred rags to stuff into cracks. In the kitchen the roof began to leak, and soon every available pot and pan was being used to catch drippings.

Rick worked almost in silence, not joining in the bantering of his friends. As was his way, he worried the problem of the frogmen and their mysterious behavior the way his dog, Dismal, would worry a bone.

He discarded a dozen possible reasons for their actions, including underwater communications, bombs, and an unusual way of fishing. He pondered on the relations of the Spindrift group – or lack of them – with the frogmen and re-examined their various theories.

First premise: The frogmen, specifically Steve's former shadow, hadn't recognized them or the Water Witch.

Second premise: The frogmen considered them harmless tourists, interested only in diving to the wreck, and therefore to be watched but not considered dangerous.

He rather liked that one. It would mean that the chicken had been dropped "mischievously," to use Zircon's word, to try to scare them out of the immediate vicinity. But there were other possibilities.

First premise: The frogmen knew of their connection with Steve.

Second premise: The frogmen weren't worried about people with JANIG connections.

This might be explained by superior weapons in the hands of the frogmen, coupled with the assumption that the Spindrifters had no communication with Steve. It might also be explained by knowledge of their real reason for being on Clipper Cay.

Rick didn't care much for the last two premises. The first one seemed more reasonable. After all, they were not sure that the former tail had seen the Water Witch in St. Thomas, or had known of their connection with it. On the contrary, to get to Clipper Cay so soon after the Spindrifters arrived, the frogman must have left about the same time the scientists did. There was even a possibility that he had arrived ahead of the Spindrift group and that the frogmen's boat had been out when Rick and Scotty had first spotted the diving equipment in the house. Anyway, there had been no sign of any tail but the Virgin Islander while they were around the pier and on the Water Witch. Either he or Scotty would almost certainly have spotted a second man – especially since they had seen him before.

There was a major precaution, however, to be taken: he and Scotty must not let Steve's former tail get a good look at them. They had to assume he had recognized their clumsiness for what it was – a deliberate stall.

Scotty poked him, and Rick suddenly realized that he had been leaning for quite a long while on the broom he was supposed to be using.

"Made up your mind about anything?" Scotty asked.

Rick knew his friend had been watching him. During their many adventures each had developed a rather unusual understanding of how the other's mind worked.

"Partly," Rick replied. He told Scotty his thoughts.

"You make sense," Scotty agreed, then added practically, "but I don't see what difference it makes, whether they know about our connection with Steve or not. The moment they catch us snooping they'll assume we're enemies. Until then, they'll let us alone just as they've been doing."

Zircon and Scotty joined forces to prepare lunch. The temperature had dropped sharply, and hot soup and hamburger sandwiches were welcome.

After lunch, Rick braved the storm long enough to go to the Water Witch for his camera. He returned to the cottage soaked to the skin. "We'll need diving equipment to go outside if this keeps up," he announced.

He took the camera case apart and disconnected his circuits, then he went outside again with tools in hand and got into the Sky Wagon. The plane had a heater switch that would do. He removed it, leaving the wires to dangle for the moment. If the heater was needed he could put the wires together.

That done, he sat in the plane and racked his memory for a source of sheet rubber. There was none, but he recalled a repair kit for the plastic floats in their tool supply. He found it and took it back to the house.

Using the awl blade on his scout knife, he bored a hole through the plastic back of the case and installed the switch. Then he reconnected his circuits so the new switch would turn on only the infrared light. He waterproofed the switch as best he could, making gaskets from a rubber jar ring he found in the kitchen.

He knew, however, that the switch wouldn't be waterproof under pressure. He took a sheet of plastic repair material from the float repair kit and shaped it carefully with his knife. After much trial and error he succeeded in cementing it onto the case so that it would protect the switch from the outside, but left enough slack for the switch to be operated through the flexible patch. Satisfied, he put it aside to dry.

It was nearly time for dinner when he finished. He took a hand in cooking ham and eggs with fried potatoes, while Tony prepared a salad and made coffee.

As they ate, Zircon gestured toward the front of the house. "Getting worse instead of letting up. This must be a hurricane, although I've never heard of one quite this early in the season."

"If it gets much worse we'll have to anchor the cottage," Scotty observed.

They finished just in time to tune in for the weather forecast from St. Thomas. According to the announcer, the storm was now centered off the island of St. Croix, moving in a northwesterly direction. That meant it would pass St. Thomas, and perhaps come very close to them. The announcer said, "While the storm has many of the characteristics of a hurricane, including the general form and wind velocities, we hesitate to designate it as one."

"In other words," Tony said, "it's a hurricane but we'll call it something else because it's too early in the season for hurricanes."

"Whatever it is, we'll have more of it," Zircon stated.

Rick switched to the Navy command frequency in time to intercept a conversation with a destroyer somewhere off the British Virgin Islands. The destroyer had just lost one of its boats.

At four minutes after six the air went silent, then a new voice took over the microphone. The voice said:

"A message for the ones who hunted blue sheep."

"That's us!" Rick gasped.

When Steve had dispatched Rick, Scotty, and Zircon to Tibet, it had been with the cover story that they were going to hunt the blue sheep called Bharals in the mountains of West China. Only Steve would know that. The message was from him.

Static crackled, but the message was clear:

"The one who started the hunt needs the biggest hunter. Only the biggest hunter. He should be delivered as soon as possible. Call your usual contact before arrival and say that the doctor is coming and to notify the patient."

The message was repeated, while the four strained to be certain they had heard every word. When normal traffic resumed, Rick switched the set off.

"It appears," Zircon said slowly, "that I'm wanted."

"Yep." Scotty grinned. "The demand is there, all right. But delivery is a long way off."

The storm punctuated his words.

CHAPTER XIV

Below the Dark Coral

The sky was overcast, ceiling about two thousand feet, visibility about two miles. The wind was moderate and steady. Rick examined the water in front of the cottage and told his friends, "I can take off all right. But I don't want to leave without a weather report or we might find ourselves with no place to land."

"I'm going to swap this radio for a newspaper," Scotty grumbled. He had been trying without success to get a weather report.

Tony Briotti looked at the Sky Wagon, brows furrowed, then asked, "Rick, couldn't you turn on the radio in the plane and get a weather report from the airport at Charlotte Amalie?"

Rick was climbing into the Sky Wagon before Tony finished. Of course he could! He called, "I'm a chump!"

The set warmed and Rick called the airport, then held the phones to his ears to hear the reply through heavy static. When the airport answered he asked for a weather report for the area between St. Thomas and Clipper Cay. He got it, and climbed out, his face thoughtful.

"The storm is having a pup," he told the others. "We're in a lull at the moment. The main storm swung off to the north, but there's another one right on its tail. We have just about time to get to Charlotte Amalie and back before the second one closes us in."

The group went into action fast. All four pushed the plane into the water. Zircon ran to pack a bag, and Tony went to get the film Rick had taken for Zircon to carry to Steve. Scotty and Rick went through the check list, inspecting the plane for possible storm damage. Then Rick started the engine and warmed it up. By the time they were ready, Zircon was climbing aboard.

Scotty yelled, "Tony and I will keep the home fires burning. Don't waste any time, Rick!"

"I won't."

Zircon closed the cabin door and Rick taxied out. In a few moments he was air-borne, swinging seaward over the north end of the island. He looked down and saw two of the frogmen. They were in front of the house, watching the plane.

"Be sure to tell Steve everything," Rick reminded the big scientist, "and don't forget to give him the film. I won't have time to see him, unless he meets the plane. But it doesn't matter, because you know everything Scotty and I do."

"I'll be glad to get actively to work on this confounded business," Zircon stated. "I'm so curious about that brass ball the frogmen had in the cave that I'm about to burst."

Rick set a compass course for St. Thomas, flying just under the clouds. When they were a half hour out he contacted the airport again and asked for the weather. The report hadn't changed. He told the airport operator, "The doctor is coming. Please notify the patient." He could almost see the operator jerk to attention as the headphones gave out a crisp "Roger."

He sat down on a heavy chop at Charlotte Amalie, and the Sky Wagon gave them a rough ride as he taxied to the pier. Lieutenant Jimmy Kelly was waiting in a Navy sedan with an armed guard in attendance.

Rick supervised the refueling of his plane at the pier gasoline depot, a task he would not delegate to anyone else. The presence of attendants made it impossible to talk to the Navy lieutenant.

As Rick tightened the gas cap, Jimmy Kelly said, "Hop into your great mechanical bird and shove off, birdman. You'll just about beat the weather home as it is. Don't stop to fish on the way."

"I won't. Professor Zircon will tell you an interesting story. And we'll be monitoring the command channel at six for any advice you can give us."

"Okay. Don't get your feet wet."

Rick waved good-by to Jimmy and Zircon, then taxied out to the clear area and took off. The ceiling was lower than on the trip in, and he almost missed Clipper Cay because of strong winds and low visibility. He spotted the southern tip of the island just in time to avoid going right on by. He landed with beads of perspiration on his forehead. If he had missed, with luck he might have hit Puerto Rico, but more likely he would have had to make a landing in the open ocean.

Scotty and Tony came to greet him.

"We were worried," Tony said. "It's closing in fast."

"I got a little worried myself," Rick admitted. "Anything new here?"

Scotty gestured toward the northern end of the island. "Our pals have been busy, diving. They got the brass ball, or whatever it is, and stowed it aboard their boat. I kept an eye on 'em through the binoculars. Also, I suspect they're going to do some more diving, because they left their equipment on the boat."

Rick didn't particularly care at that moment. The flight back had been something of a strain. "Let 'em go," he said. "We can't do anything about it, anyway – not in broad daylight. Maybe tonight we can take a look."

They spent the afternoon indoors, napping or reading, unable to swim or fish because the second storm had arrived on schedule. Then, a few minutes before six, Rick turned on the radio to the Navy command channel.

At six on the nose, the radio emitted: "A message for the blue-sheep hunters. The blue sheep seen by the big hunter and the little hunter is important. Obtain more information if possible. But remember that the owners of the sheep are also mighty hunters. The snapshots of the sheep were fine."

The message was repeated. When they were sure there was no more, Rick switched the set off. "Well, we're in it, and with Steve's blessing. Now what?"

Scotty shrugged. "Now we steal the brass ball. Didn't Steve's message say to get more information?"

"Apparently the pictures turned out well, if I understood that reference to snapshots correctly," Tony said. "Be serious, Scotty. What can we do next?"

"Keep an eye on the frogmen, I guess, and play it by ear. I can't see anything else to be done. We probably could steal their brass ball, all right, but they'd know at once who had done it because we're the only other people on the island."

"Have you looked recently to see what they're doing?" Tony asked.

Neither boy had. Both went to the front porch, but the frogmen's cottage was invisible through the driving rain. "We'll have to go see," Rick said.

"After dark," Scotty added. "In about an hour. It will be pretty dark then."

"Do you suppose the brass ball is still on the boat?" Rick inquired thoughtfully. "We might be able to sneak aboard after dark and get a picture of it from close up, and we could examine it and have something definite to report to Steve."

"That's a possibility," Scotty admitted. "Anyway, we can get ready."

Rick rechecked the camera and infrared unit. He loaded the camera with a fresh roll of film. Then the three sat in the living room over coffee and listened to the storm batter at the front of the house until it was nearly dark outside.

"What now?" Tony inquired. "Do we all go? Or just one of us?"

"No point in all of us getting soaked," Scotty said. "Have you had any experience in this kind of spying, Tony?"

The archaeologist had not. He grinned. "Until I came to Spindrift, I led a rather quiet, academic sort of life. Except for the war, of course."

"Then Scotty or I had better go," Rick said. "Or both of us."

Scotty shook his head. "No need for both. It's only a reconnaissance, anyway. Toss you for it."

Rick produced a coin. "All right. Call it." He flipped it as Scotty claimed heads. It was a tail.

"Best two out of three?" Scotty invited.

Rick grinned. "And after that, best three out of five?"

Scotty growled, "All right. I'll go." He got ready by taking off shoes and socks. He could change his shirt and shorts when he returned. He slipped through the back door and was gone.

Rick turned on the radio, tried for a weather report, and settled for a Miami disk jockey who was playing some good records. The static was bad, but the station came through clearly enough to make listening worth while.

Scotty was back before a half dozen records had been played. He sat down, ignoring the water that dripped from him. "Listen, our friends just rounded the northern tip of the island in the boat and they're heading south just inside the eastern reef. What do you make of that?"

Rick pictured the movements of the enemy boat from Scotty's description. "They can't be putting out to sea, otherwise they'd be outside the reef. And they're not interested in anything on the island or they'd have walked. I'd say they're planning to do some night diving on the eastern side of the island."

"In this kind of weather?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Sure. It's stormy on top, but once you're below the wave motion it's quiet as ever. They could dive."

Scotty stood up. "If they can, so can we."

There was no denial to that. They made a trip to the Water Witch and collected their equipment, then planned what they would do.

"We'll all use lungs," Tony said. "We have three regulators and there are plenty of full tanks, enough for two dives each. However, we have only two pairs of glasses for the dark-light camera. I'll yield to Scotty as the more experienced diver, so you and he use the glasses, Rick. I'll stay on top, or near the top, with a single float, and a gun. If I use the lung I can stay submerged most of the time and not have to fight waves."

"Lash yourself to the float," Scotty cautioned.

"And we'll use a buddy line," Rick added. "The same one the professor and I used. Scotty, you take a gun, and I'll take the camera."

"If I see any trouble in the making, I'll bang on my air tank," Tony said. "You should be able to hear that for quite a distance."

There was nothing else to be planned in advance. They picked up their equipment and went out the back door into the storm, crossing the island through the palms. As they emerged onto the eastern shore, Scotty called, "Look – about five hundred yards north."

The lights of the frogmen's boat, visible as bright halos through the rain, were tossing violently just inside the eastern reef. Apparently the boat was anchored. The rain was too thick for them to see any movement aboard, or to see details of the boat itself.

"Move carefully," Rick cautioned. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the storm. "We haven't explored this shore. It may be full of coral heads."

"I doubt it," Scotty returned. "It would be too dangerous for the boat in this kind of weather, even if they knew a channel."

"Rick's right about careful movement, nevertheless," Tony replied. "We must move with care, especially near the reef." He indicated his float. "I'll never be able to tow this through that water, so I'll leave it in the palm grove. We can pick it up on the way back. We shouldn't need it with lungs, anyway. Do you boys have rescue packs?"

The packs were plastic floats compressed into packages no larger than a cigarette pack. They contained a carbon-dioxide cartridge and could be inflated simply by squeezing them, which punctured the cartridge. The boys had carried them on their weight belts for so long that they took them for granted.

They donned their equipment, then walked down to the beach. The surf was not heavy, since the wind was blowing from the opposite side of the island. Nevertheless, there was enough water motion to lift a fine screen of sand and dust.

"The camera will be useless until we get into deeper water," Rick called. "Let's rope together and swim straight out."

They waded in, awkward in the fins, until they were deep enough for swimming. Then all adjusted mouthpieces and started out. Rick tried the infrared light intermittently, but not until they were in about twenty feet of water did the roiled bottom allow its use. He led the way to the reef, the others following in file.

The reef was closer to the surface than on the western side. Rick had to swim along it until he found a place where they could cross without being buffeted by breakers. Once across, he swam down the face of the reef, knowing that the trip was hard on Tony, because the underwater world was completely dark to one without light, or glasses with which to see the infrared illumination.

Rick found a fairly level shelf at about thirty feet and swam along it, keeping close to the reef wall, until he thought they were in the vicinity of the frogmen. Then he pulled twice on the tie rope in a signal to surface, knowing that Scotty would pass the signal along to Tony.

He emerged in a rough sea, only yards from the point on the reef opposite the anchored boat. He was in time to see two frogmen climb down the boat's ladder. They got into the water and the third man, on deck, lowered the brass object to them.

Rick had no fear that they would be seen from the boat. Their heads would be hidden by the breaking waves, and their bubbles would merge with the natural foam.

He saw at once what their tactics should be. He pulled Scotty and Tony to him, then let his mouthpiece drop. Putting his lips close to their ears, he said softly, "If it's like last time, they won't be down long. Scotty and I will track them to find out where they go, and watch what they're doing. Then, after they leave, we'll see if they left anything behind."