The Brant Approach
The magma drove upward, melting its way through the fractured rock of
the channels under the western side of the island. Now and then it
struck rock with a higher water content, and the island shuddered under
a new explosion as the steam expanded.
Rick felt the bed shake under him and sat upright. A new day had dawned,
and there was much to do. He and Scotty had volunteered to help Captain
Ricardo Montoya plan the evacuation of the island, and the youthful
officer had accepted with pleasure. He had agreed to meet them for
breakfast.
The scientists had worked late, trying to extrapolate their data into
some kind of prediction. Rick and Scotty, tired after an exhausting day,
had gone to bed while the light still burned in Hartson Brant's room.
Scotty awoke as Rick's feet hit the floor. "I'm getting used to these
little earthquakes," he said. "Don't know if I'll be able to sleep on
steady ground after this."
"The ground is going to get unsteadier," Rick reminded. "Until--boom!"
"I'm not forgetting," Scotty said grimly. "Let's get dressed and eat.
I'm famished."
"It's ham and eggs for me," Rick told him. "If I had to watch milk slosh
around in a cereal bowl I'd get seasick."
The boys dressed rapidly and hurried down to the hotel coffee shop. They
were just in time. Ricardo Montoya walked in just as they were seated.
The officer joined them. Rick noted that his face was drawn and tired,
and thought Montoya had probably been up a good part of the night.
"How's the evacuation going?" Rick asked.
Montoya shook his head. "Poorly. My uncle's radio broadcast continued
all night and through the morning hours. A few families have come to the
harbor, and the stevedores are organized now to get them aboard ship. A
few fishing boats have come, with fishermen's families, but there is no
big exodus."
"Don't they realize the danger?" Scotty exclaimed.
"Perhaps. You must understand my people. They have lived with
earthquakes all their lives. Not so often, perhaps, but these temblors
are not unusual. What is there to be excited about? Who believes El
Viejo will explode? It never has, so it never will."
Rick thought it over. "Maybe not enough are hearing the broadcasts."
"That is possible. I have put volunteers to work going from house to
house, asking people to turn on their radios to hear the governor, and
also to explain the urgency. But it will take a long time, even in
Calor."
"If we only had the troops," Rick said thoughtfully. "Trained manpower
is what's needed for a job like this."
"True. And I think if my uncle could only talk to the troops they would
believe him. But he cannot reach them. Guevara's peons would never let
him by."
The hotel loud-speaker system drowned out his last words as a soft
feminine voice paged someone in Spanish.
"If only the troops could listen to the radio," Rick commented. "Perhaps
they'd believe him and turn on Guevara."
"Perhaps. But soldiers cannot afford radios, and they are away from
their barracks now. There is no way for my uncle's voice to reach them."
There had to be, Rick thought. There had to be some way. The
loud-speaker sounded again, paging a Senor Alvarez. Rick sat bolt
upright. Why not use a loud-speaker?
"Listen," he said excitedly. "If the government radio station has a
loud-speaker system, or can make one, we can put it in my plane. I can
fly the governor over the troops and he can talk to them direct. My
plane can go slowly enough, and low enough for that!"
"How about power supply?" Scotty asked.
"There must be an inverter on the island somewhere. We can use
automobile batteries, and the inverter will give us 110 AC for a while,
until the batteries run down. Just twenty minutes of power would be
enough and we can get that with enough batteries!"
Scotty chuckled. "The Brant approach," he said. "There always is one.
How about it, Captain?"
"We will try," Montoya said decisively. "You have not eaten?... Then do
so, while I make a phone call to the radio station. I have had coffee
and rolls, and perhaps there will be time to join you for more breakfast
while the radio engineers get the equipment together."
The boys were just finishing ham and eggs when Montoya returned. There
was a broad smile on his tired face.
"The engineers say it can be done. They have a portable loud-speaker
system, and there is an inverter, as you call it, at the transmitter.
What is this inverter?"
"It's an electric generator," Rick explained. "Battery current turns it,
and it produces 110-volt alternating current. But inverters aren't very
efficient, and they take a lot of battery current. That's why we'll need
as many batteries as we can carry."
"The chief radio engineer said he understood exactly what was needed. He
will gather the materials and meet us at the airport. Now, I think we
have time for coffee, and perhaps I can follow your example with ham and
eggs. It will take an hour for the equipment to be ready. Also, I called
my uncle. He will be waiting for our call."
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Scotty asked.
Montoya smiled. "Sleep? I have forgotten what it is. But perhaps if this
plan of yours works, I will remember, eh? Then I can sleep tonight."
A check with the hotel desk told Rick that the scientists had left word
that they were not to be disturbed until later in the morning except for
an emergency. They had worked a good part of the night, apparently with
no satisfactory results.
The boys waited until Ricardo Montoya had breakfasted, then rode with
him to the airport. There was another wait while the radio engineers
arrived, bringing the loud-speaker equipment.
Rick supervised the placement of the amplifier in the rear seat. The
inverter was placed on the floor, and wedged into place with scrap
lumber. The automobile batteries were put into the luggage compartment
behind the rear seat and were also wedged in place.
Wires were run from the amplifier through the rear-seat windows, which
were opened just enough to take the thin cables. The leads were then
brought out to the plane's struts. Two large loud-speakers were attached
to the struts. At first there was some difficulty in figuring out a
secure attachment, but the chief engineer, a resourceful type, managed
to find a pair of U bolts somewhere in the hangars. They did the job
nicely.
The chief engineer connected up, then hung the microphone between the
two front seats. He threw a switch and the inverter started up with a
whine. At the throw of a second switch, the loud-speakers broke into a
hum. The engineer tapped on the microphone, and the tap, greatly
amplified, reverberated across the airstrip.
"It works!" Rick exclaimed, delighted.
"_Como no?_" the engineer said with a smile. He spoke to Montoya in
Spanish. The officer translated. "There is one more thing. He has rigged
a cable with a switch box so you can operate the controls from the front
seat. When the cable is attached, you will be ready. I will go call my
uncle."
Rick and Scotty watched as the engineer got busy, hooking the
remote-switch cable into the amplifier.
"Room for only two," Rick pointed out. "Want to toss for it?"
Scotty shook his head. "It was your idea. I'll stay on the ground. Take
the governor and talk those troops into submission."
"Maybe," Rick said. "We'll see. I think it depends on whether or not
they know the real story. If they have any idea there are diamonds
around, they won't be interested in anything else."
"Guevara wouldn't dare to let them in on it," was Scotty's opinion.
"I'll bet they're just following orders, with no idea what's behind all
this. Most of them probably think there really is a national security
conference going on."
Rick thought Scotty was probably right. Time would tell. He waited until
the engineer signaled that the job was done, then climbed into the
pilot's seat. He checked the plane over. Plenty of gas. Everything
seemed okay. He tried the loud-speaker switches, then spoke into the
microphone. He could hear his voice boom out with thunderous
amplification and saw Scotty clap his hands to his ears.
Finally, he started the motor and let the plane warm, keeping an eye on
his gauges. When the manifold temperature got high enough he cut the
switch. He tested the control surfaces and he was satisfied. Now all he
needed was the governor.
Governor Montoya arrived within ten minutes. He inspected the plane and
its equipment and nodded his approval. "Very ingenious. Shall we try
it?"
"Yes, sir." Rick helped the governor in, buckled his safety belt, then
ran around and got into the pilot's seat. He started the motor, waved to
Scotty and the others, then taxied out to the runway. The tower gave him
clearance and he took off.
"We'll make a swing over the area and locate the troops," he explained,
"then I'll slow down as much as I can, and you can talk."
Rick climbed to a thousand feet and set a course directly for the Hot
Springs Hotel. He asked, "Sir, how many troops are there?"
"Our army numbers three companies, of about two hundred and fifty men
each. Then we have a few special units, including the transportation
platoons. Perhaps nine hundred in all. We do not need a large army. But
we need some kind of force. These are troubled times, and there is
always some danger that a revolutionary force might consider us an
excellent staging or training base for an invasion of a nearby country.
So, we keep prepared."
The Sky Wagon was over the hotel within minutes. Rick spotted a large
group of soldiers--he estimated about two hundred--dispersed around the
hotel. They probably thought they were guarding the conference.
He banked left and followed the contour of the mountain, and found
another group of soldiers camped near the pumice works.
"That is two companies accounted for, more or less," the governor
stated. "Now, can we find the third?"
It wasn't difficult. Rick followed the dirt road to San Souci, and found
the third large group marching in the direction of the mountain,
apparently about to join forces with the group at the pumice works.
"Let's take a look at the diamond pipe," he suggested, and pulled the
Sky Wagon around in a tight circle. He had his bearings, and the third
shot station was not difficult to locate. There was considerable
activity. Earth-moving machinery had been moved into place and was
operating. The yellow ground was already gone, and the equipment was
cutting into the blue kimberlite below.
Military trucks were lined up, apparently waiting to be loaded with the
blue earth.
"Where are they taking it?" the governor wondered.
Rick had talked with David Riddle about the process. "They need water.
The blue earth is run down long wooden tables with cleats on them, like
washing out gold. The table is coated with grease. The diamonds stick in
the grease and the blue earth washes away. They've probably set things
up at the pumice works if there's water there. Otherwise, it may be the
hotel."
"It has to be the hotel, then," the governor explained. "There would not
be enough water at the pumice plant. Well, I think we have found all our
troops. Those who are not with the three companies are below us, digging
diamonds. I wonder if they know what they are digging?"
Rick told the governor what Scotty had said.
"That is probably right," the governor agreed. "Guevara would not dare
to let too many in on the secret. Well, shall we get to work?"
"Yes, sir," Rick said. He handed the governor the microphone and swung
into position for a run over the troops on the road. He throttled down,
and then gave the plane a few degrees of flaps. He kept an eye on his
air-speed indicator. If he got too slow, the plane would stall and he'd
be too low to recover. "I'll make as tight a circle as I can," he said.
"Be ready."
The troops came into sight. Rick lost altitude and began a slow circle
only a few hundred feet over the marching soldiers. He turned on the
switches and nodded.
The governor began to talk in slow, clear Spanish. Rick understood that
he identified himself to the men below, but then he lost the trend of
the talk. He concentrated on flying. The loud-speakers were operating
perfectly, and he knew the troops could hear.
He could see them looking up and pointing, but they kept marching.
Apparently the governor wasn't making much of an impact. The governor
paused, and Rick cut the switches.
"Maybe they don't believe it's you," he suggested.
"Perhaps not. But my voice is well known. I speak over the radio at
least once a week. More likely the whole idea is just too much for them.
Who can believe that mountain over there is about to blow up?"
"Let's try the troops at the pumice works. Maybe you can tell them that
all who care about their homeland should march at once to Calor."
"I'll try it," the governor agreed.
Rick circled low over the pumice works while the loud-speakers blasted
at the troops below. They watched the plane, they pointed, some ran out
for a better look. But when the governor pleaded with them to hurry to
Calor to help save the people of the island, nothing happened.
"If El Viejo started smoking, they'd move fast enough," Rick said
bitterly. "But then it would be too late. They just don't believe there
is any danger, and maybe they're not sure it's you. I guess no one has
ever given them orders from the air before."
"They are simple people," the governor agreed. "I think most of them
have never heard of a volcano. They don't even know what an eruption is.
How can they be excited? If I ever succeed in getting good schools here,
this may change. But it won't help us now."
Rick considered. It would do little good to repeat the announcement to
the soldiers at the hotel. He wondered if Guevara and Connel were
somewhere below, and with that thought he turned toward the diamond
pipe.
"Let's see if we can do any good with the truckmen," he suggested. "Tell
them the trucks are essential to the safety of their families."
The governor tried, while Rick held the plane in in a tight circle over
the blue ground. Again, there was interest in the flying loud-speaker
plane itself, but the message made no impact. Then Rick noticed tiny
spurts of fire from one edge of the diamond field and cold sweat started
on his forehead as he suddenly realized what they were.
"They're shooting at us!" he exclaimed, and gave the plane the gun,
taking evasive action as the distance widened.
[Illustration: _"They're shooting at us!" Rick exclaimed, and gave the
plane the gun_]
"I saw," the governor said wearily. "It was not the troops. It was the
peons. Our friend Guevara is down there, I think. But he need not be
afraid of our effect. We have had none."
Rick had seldom felt so frustrated. He was tempted to call the San
Luzians a stupid bunch of cattle, but he realized the governor had
stated the case accurately. They just didn't understand the danger. What
would they understand?
His lips formed the word. "Diamonds!" At least they would understand
treasure.
"Sir," he said excitedly, "we can break this up, at least enough so we
can start collecting data again. If we tell them the whole story,
they'll at least understand that Guevara is after great treasure.
They'll flock to the diamond field and disrupt the operation, and we can
move back in to some of the shot stations. The people won't be any worse
off than they are now, and it will give us a chance to do something!"
The governor considered. "Perhaps that is the only solution. It will not
get my people to safety, but it will at least give us a chance to find
out the exact situation. When I talked with your father this morning he
said they needed more data or they could tell nothing about the timing
of the eruption. If we get that data, then I will ask the Americans for
troops. If we must, we will take the people off by armed force and save
their lives in spite of themselves!"
Rick circled and lost altitude again. He got into position over the
marching troops and turned on the switches, then gave the governor the
signal.
Later, the governor told him what he had said:
"Soldiers of San Luz! Do you know why you are protecting this area? It
is not because of a great conference. It is because Lieutenant Governor
Guevara has found a great treasure! He is using you to help him to
become the wealthiest man in the world! But what will you get out of
this? Nothing! He will give you nothing! Go for yourself and see the
blue earth. It is found only near mountains like El Viejo. Do you know
what it contains? Diamonds! The most valuable gems in the whole world!
Will you let Guevara use you to make himself rich while you get nothing?
Do not be fools! Help yourselves to this wealth. Look for the crystal
pebbles, the ones like cloudy glass, among the blue stones. Go! You are
soldiers! Take your share!"
"They're running!" Rick pounded on the control wheel with excitement.
"Look! They're breaking ranks and running!"
"Excellent," the governor said calmly. "Now the other groups. Then, in
spite of the rifle fire, let us go and tell those at the diamond pipe
what they are doing. They will not hit us with those rifles."
Rick knew that was true. A lucky shot might hit them, but it took
practice to hit a fast-flying plane, even with automatic weapons. "Let's
go," he said.