The Black Cliff
Heavy seas broke against the rocky base of the island. Rick surveyed the
cove they had chosen with some misgiving. The vinta wouldn't be safe if
tied to shore. The breaking surf would batter it to bits before they
could get back.
Scotty moved to his side. "Now what?"
"Swim," Rick said grimly. "Around that point looks like the most
sheltered place, but it isn't good. The wind blows these waves halfway
around the world, and they've got plenty of steam."
"Have to chance it," Scotty stated.
They maneuvered the cranky craft into the meager shelter of the point
Rick had indicated, then dropped the stone anchor. It dragged along the
bottom briefly, then caught in a cleft between two underwater rocks. It
would hold unless the rope broke.
The boys took their belongings and bundled them in their clothes, along
with shoes and weapons. Then, holding the bundles high with one hand,
they slipped into the water. In a few moments the two were rubbing
themselves dry and putting their clothes on again.
Rick tried the radio unit while they rested. "Rick to Zircon."
"Standing by, Rick. Where are you?"
"Ashore." He described the situation briefly.
"I should have thought of that," Zircon replied. "The eastern shore is
to windward. You were bound to have surf. Are you all right?"
"Yes. We're starting out now. We'll talk to you from on top, if it's
safe." He hung the little radio around his neck by its lanyard, and
stood up. "Ready to climb Mount Everest, brother Scott?"
Scotty stared up at the slope of the volcano. "If you are, brother
Brant."
Neither boy was an experienced mountaineer, but both knew the principles
of operation. They roped together and started the long climb. It was
easy at first. The slopes low down were not steep, and the broken lava
gave plenty of hand and footholds. But as they reached a point Rick
estimated to be about two hundred feet above the water, the slope
steepened sharply.
"Rest a moment," Scotty suggested. "We'll last longer if we take a
breather once in a while."
Rick knew Scotty was right, but he resented the need for sitting idly
for even a few minutes. He used the five-minute rest period to report to
Zircon that all was well.
Rick led the way again as soon as the luminous dial of his wrist watch
showed that five minutes had elapsed. Twice he and Scotty were stalled
for a brief time, but finally found a route and improved it by hammering
the steel spikes in clefts in the rock. With the hammer padded, the
sound was muffled to a point where it couldn't be heard more than a few
feet away. The spikes could be used to belay their rope on the way down.
The last stage of the upward journey was to the top of the cone. It was
nearly vertical, but wide cracks made it less difficult than some of the
areas below. Scotty was leading now. He reached the top, then waited for
Rick to join him.
Silently the two boys looked out over the dark sea, and Rick wished for
a moment that he could see the view by daylight.
"Let's check the crater," Scotty suggested. He drew his flashlight, then
inched forward across the rubble of the rim. Rick stayed beside him.
"Any danger of the beam being seen?" Scotty asked softly.
"No. The angle is wrong. If you keep it directed toward the crater, it
will be invisible from the sea."
Rick watched as Scotty switched the light on. The pencil of light swept
downward, and finally lost itself in nothingness.
The two boys stared at each other.
"The whole island's hollow!" Rick breathed. "I'll say this thing has a
crater!"
"Plenty deep," Scotty agreed. "Well, that tears it. Nothing to do but go
around. You lead the way."
Rick felt his way down until at last he was standing on the shoulder of
the ancient volcano just below the final sweep upward to the crest. In a
moment Scotty joined him. Slowly and carefully they started the long
journey around, taking the southern slope as previously agreed.
It was hard going. In spots the lava was crumbly and gave under foot or
hand. In others it was dense as steel slag.
When Rick estimated that over half the distance around the volcano had
been covered he called Zircon and reported, then told the big scientist
it would be their last contact for a while.
Within a hundred feet the lights of the village came in sight far below.
The boys paused to survey the situation, and to examine the western part
of the island. Most of it was visible from their vantage point. Only the
cove where the vintas were kept and the section of village closest to
the cliff were out of sight. Rick could see the beach clearly, and
wondered if the guards were looking their way.
"Go carefully," Scotty whispered. "This is no time to start a
landslide."
"Good advice," Rick whispered back. "But which way do we go now?"
"The slope to the left looks pretty good," Scotty answered softly. "We
can cut back when we get down a little."
At the bottom of the slope, they found another drift that angled away
toward the north. By the time they reached the bottom of it, Rick
whispered that they must be directly above the cave. He could see the
lighter path of the street that ran from below the shelf toward the
western end of the island. Now all that remained was to make their way
down to within reach of the scientists.
They moved with extreme caution, fearful that the slightest noise would
give them away, or that a wrong step would start a rockslide. It was
painful work, going down backward most of the way. Once they reached
what seemed to be a dead end, and lay on their stomachs surveying a
sheer wall nearly twelve feet high.
Rick solved the problem by finding a lava boulder big enough and stable
enough to serve as a rope anchor. They took an extra length of line
Scotty carried and made it fast, then went down the rope hand over hand.
The whole village was spread before them now. Rick could even see the
cross street that ran below the base of the cliff, and he knew they must
be nearly within sight of the shelf on which the scientists were
imprisoned.
"Tough section below," Scotty whispered so low that Rick could barely
hear him. "I think it drops off sheer."
Another dozen feet of slow progress proved that Scotty was right. There
was a small shelf, then the slope dropped away abruptly. Both boys lay
flat, and slowly inched up to the drop and looked over.
Rick felt Scotty's hand grip his arm like an iron clamp at the same
moment that he realized that another shelf was directly below, a tiny
campfire burning on it!
But that wasn't what Scotty had seen. At a point off to their right, and
only slightly below them was a second, smaller shelf. On it sat a pirate
guard, rifle across his knees, staring out to sea.
Rick swallowed his heart, which had climbed into his throat. They were
in plain sight of the guard, or at least their heads were. He backed
away as rapidly as the rough surface allowed, until the guard was no
longer in sight. He and Scotty held a whispered exchange, their voices
no louder than a zephyr.
"Keep your eyes off him," Rick said. "He may feel someone looking at
him."
"Right. He's in a wonderful position. He looks down on the shelf where
the fire is located. Did you see the ladder?"
Rick hadn't.
"It leads from his perch to the shelf. I suppose ladders lead down to
the ground from there."
The guard was an obstacle Rick hadn't expected. He wondered if the guard
on duty last night had seen him slug the pirate, and he decided it
didn't make much difference. As Zircon had said, they had to assume the
whole colony was alerted.
"Let's look out one at a time," he whispered. "I didn't see anyone on
the ledge."
He inched forward once more and put his head over the edge of the drop.
The fire on the rocky shelf was a small one, probably only a cooking
fire. There wasn't anyone in sight. He guessed the scientists must be
in a cave under the rock on which he crouched. He could only hope they
were awake.
Rick estimated the situation. It was perhaps thirty feet down to the
shelf. The guard was ten feet below, and twenty feet to his right. He
noticed that the guard didn't look down at the shelf. He was awake, but
his attention was focused outward. In all probability he was a lookout
rather than a guard, watching for signs of ship movement to the west,
the direction from which danger to the pirates might be expected to
come.
The boy withdrew and joined Scotty. "No sign of anyone on the shelf. I'm
going to lower the radio unit, anyway."
"Okay. Let's get the rod out."
Rick had carried the rod-section case on his back, tied to shoulders and
belt with line. He untied the line swiftly and assembled the rod. Scotty
helped him put the reel in place and feed the line through the guides.
Then Rick carefully wrapped the radio unit in his handkerchief, and put
the whole thing in a black denim ditty bag borrowed from Chahda for the
purpose. He secured the drawstring of the ditty bag to the end of the
fishing line and inched forward again. Scotty moved forward, too, his
rifle unslung and ready for action.
Rick hadn't even bothered with a note. Both Shannon and Briotti would
recognize the radio unit instantly. There were no others like it outside
of Spindrift. They would immediately put it to use and be talking to
Zircon before the two boys had moved away from the position over their
heads.
Carefully Rick pushed the tip of the rod out far enough so the ditty bag
would clear all obstructions on the way down, then he swung the bag
clear and began to feed out the line.
The bag went down an inch at a time, while he concentrated on keeping
the motion slow but steady. A sudden jerk might attract the guard's
attention, but very slow motion probably wouldn't.
[Illustration: _A sudden jerk would attract the guard's attention_]
He was sweating profusely by the time the bag got within reach of the
shelf below. He began to worry. He had seen no one. Had the pirates
removed the scientists, leaving the lookout in his usual position?
He kept the bag moving until suddenly strain went off the line and he
knew it was down. He could see it in the faint glow from the fire, lying
motion-less on the rock below. Long moments ticked by and he felt the
trickle of sweat down his face, the sweat of apprehension. Why didn't
someone show up?
And then, as though in answer to the frantic thought, a man stepped into
view below, and casually dropped his coat over the ditty bag.
Rick almost sobbed with relief. Tony Briotti! The familiar crew cut had
grown long, but it was Tony!
Swiftly the boy drew his knife and cut the line, letting the loose end
tumble down. Then, careful of the fishing rod, he withdrew from the edge
and touched Scotty to indicate he should withdraw, too.
For a few seconds they just lay there, weak with relief. Then Rick
disassembled the rod and restowed it. Scotty reslung his rifle. On hands
and knees, the two started their retreat. Not until they were certain
that the guard could no longer see them did they stand upright and begin
to move more rapidly.
Their mission was a success, but perhaps the plan was not. Rick was no
longer filled with enthusiasm for his scheme. The guard had changed all
that.
How were they going to get the scientists out with a guard watching
them?