The Radio Link
Dawn was showing its first pale light in the east when Rick and Scotty
tied the vinta at the stern of the _Swift Arrow_ and climbed aboard.
Hobart Zircon and Chahda greeted them with relief.
"We thinking you lost or caught," Chahda said happily. "Glad we wrong."
Zircon added, "We were about to make a run toward shore, hoping to see
you."
"It was the wind," Scotty said wearily. "We had to beat to windward all
the way back. Did you ever try tacking a vinta for hours against a stiff
breeze?"
Rick slumped down on a convenient bench. "Save the talk for later. We'd
better get out of here. It's nearly daylight."
"You're right!" Zircon hurried to the controls and headed the _Swift
Arrow_ south. Gradually he opened the throttles until, at a safe
distance from the island, the MTB was moving at full-cruising speed.
Only then did the four take time to talk.
"Any radio contact?" Rick demanded.
Zircon's wide grin answered him.
"Are they all right?" Scotty yelled.
"Yes. Want to say hello?"
Rick jumped for the radio unit the scientist held out, and plugged in
the earphone. Scotty took Chahda's set.
"Rick and Scotty here," Rick called. "Do you hear us?"
Tony Briotti's familiar voice answered. "Rick and Scotty! You two young
cliff hangers! What took you so long to get back? Zircon kept us posted,
and we were worried sick. We kept watching the village, expecting you to
be hauled in as prisoners."
Rick explained about the unfavorable wind, and Scotty added, "Besides,
we took it easy crossing the volcano. We hammered spikes in a few rough
places to make it easier when we come back for you."
"You can't," Tony said swiftly. "Boys, believe me, we're grateful for
the attempt, but you can't get away with it. There's a lookout in
position to see us at all times, and there's no way you can sneak up on
him. I've told Zircon this. You must not try!"
"How is Dr. Shannon?" Rick asked.
"Fine. We're all fine, although we could use a bath and some home
cooking. But don't try to change the subject, Rick. You must not try to
get us out of here. You'd end up in this prison, if not dead."
Rick could see that the conversation was leading nowhere, and he knew
now that the scientists were all right. "We're tired, Tony," he said
wearily. "It's been a rough night."
"All right, boys. One of us will be awake at all times, so call us
whenever you wish."
Zircon looked at them anxiously as they put the radio units away. "How
about it? Is Tony right?"
"Right as radishes," Rick assented. "The lookout is where we can't reach
him, except with a gun, and the noise of a shot would defeat us. I'm
sure there's some way out of this, but I can't think straight. I'm too
tired."
"Below and into your bunks, both of you," Zircon commanded. "Chahda and
I will stand by until we're in safe waters, then we can all get some
sleep."
Rick needed no second invitation. He was asleep in five minutes. Hours
later a ray of sun through the porthole woke him out of deep, dreamless
slumber. He stretched luxuriously. A wash and a cold drink would be just
right, he decided, and wondered how long he had been asleep. His watch
told him it was two thirty in the afternoon.
He got to his feet and saw that Scotty was out of his bunk, probably on
deck. Chahda was sleeping quietly, even though the swinging quiver Rick
had placed on a hook near the bunk struck him in the elbow every time
the boat rolled.
Rick lifted the quiver down and started to hang it where Chahda wouldn't
be bothered. He paused, brows furrowed. He had the answer to their
problem in his hands. An arrow was silent.
He shook his head and put the quiver away. It would mean putting a
hunting arrow through the guard's head without warning. He knew
perfectly well he was incapable of killing a man in cold blood, no
matter what the provocation. It would be an easy shot, but one he would
never make.
Zircon and Scotty were relaxed on deck when Rick joined them after a
quick shower. They greeted him soberly.
"Did you dream the right answer?" Scotty asked.
"Didn't dream at all," he retorted. "I've had only one idea, and it
won't do." He told them about the bow.
Zircon smiled understandingly. "I quite agree, Rick. I couldn't do it
either, even if I had the skill." He changed the subject. "I talked with
Howard while you were sleeping. He agrees with Tony. We must not make
the try."
"Let's not give up," Scotty pleaded. "We haven't explored every possible
idea."
"True," Zircon agreed. "Rick, you don't know all that Tony and Howard
told us. It seems there was a reason behind their kidnaping after all."
"What?"
"Yes. Remember the missing Filipino boy from Manila? Elpidio Torres?
Seems he's a young naturalist. He ran away from home to join Shannon and
Briotti when he read of their expedition in the papers. And how do you
suppose he did it?"
The light dawned. "Of course! The young Moro guide!" Rick exclaimed. "I
get it now. The pirates weren't after our boys at all. They were after
the Torres kid. Only to get him, they had to grab Briotti and Shannon,
too!"
"Exactly right. Tony and Howard didn't even know who he was. They hired
him in good faith. Then, when the pirates showed up in the Bagobo
village, they tried to defend the boy and got taken, too. They were
brought here in the rented sailboat, along with the Torres boy. The
sailboat was repainted and taken into Indonesia to be sold. Now, Tony
says, the pirates are getting restless. If the ransom for the Torres boy
isn't forthcoming in a few days, they may all vanish for good."
Rick swallowed hard. There must be a way to get that guard! He looked at
Scotty. "Could you bean that lookout with a stone from a sling?"
Scotty shook his head. "Angle and range are wrong. I might be lucky, but
I might not. If not, there goes the ball game. Of course I could make a
sling easily enough."
The boys referred to the ancient variety of sling, rather than the
modern slingshot. Both were adept in its use, although Scotty was the
better shot.
Scotty continued, "Why does a bowshot have to be lethal? You've got some
blunt arrows."
The moment the words "blunt arrows" were spoken Rick's mind went into
high gear. The arrows in the quiver wouldn't do; at that range, with so
powerful a bow, even a blunt arrow in the head would kill. But if he
could somehow give the arrow a broader and blunter head, so the impact
would be spread over a greater area, it could stun without killing.
"Professor, get the details on when the lookout is changed and anything
else that might be useful," Rick said quickly. "I think I've got an idea
that will work, thanks to Scotty's comment."
He hurried below, went forward, and rummaged around in the rope locker.
He moved to the paint locker and examined everything within reach. There
was nothing suitable. Disappointed, he went on deck and examined the
superstructure. A wooden barrel plug would be ideal, but they didn't
have a barrel aboard. There was only a fifty-gallon steel drum used as a
spare fuel supply. If worst came to worst, he could fashion a head from
a piece of the fender board. Then his eyes suddenly fell on the
flagstaff astern and he let out a yell of delight.
Scotty and Zircon watched as he unshipped the staff from its holder and
pulled it down. It had a gilded sphere about the size of a baseball on
top. Rick tested it anxiously. It was glued tightly.
"Scotty!" Zircon bellowed. "There's a saw in the tool chest, and I
believe I saw a brace and bits."
Both Scotty and Zircon had seen instantly what Rick was after. The
large, smooth ball would spread the arrow's impact over a greater area.
Scotty returned in a moment with the tools, and sawed the ball off. Then
Rick got a blunt arrow from the quiver and cut the metal tip off with
his knife. He bored a hole of the proper size in the base of the ball.
The arrow fitted perfectly.
Rick tested the balance of the now-ungainly arrow and shook his head.
"I'm not sure I can hit anything with it."
"Get the bow!" Zircon commanded. "Scotty, put a screw through the base
of the ball to hold it on the shaft. I'm going to rig a backstop so Rick
can practice."
The scientist found a tarpaulin and strung it up like a curtain across
the stern. At the center of the tarpaulin he pinned a work glove.
Rick studied the setup. The canvas would give, absorbing the shock of
the arrow and allowing it to fall on deck. It would be all right. He
didn't want to chance losing the ball.
He consulted with Scotty, and they paced off the approximate distance he
would have to shoot, then he climbed on the pilothouse roof to get the
proper elevation. Spreading the bow a few times to loosen his muscles,
he began to practice.
The arrow was terribly nose heavy, and its whole response to the bow was
changed. At first he missed by two or three feet. Then, as he continued
to practice, his accuracy began to improve.
He stopped after a while and had a coke. "I'll never be able to shoot a
normal arrow again," he complained.
Scotty grinned. "Make this shot and you'll never have to shoot again."
By the time Chahda emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Rick was on
target. Four out of five shots hit the glove. Then, nine out of ten were
in the palm.
Zircon called a halt, took the glove from the tarp, and slipped it on.
He tucked a folded handkerchief into the glove, then stood with hand
outstretched before the tarp. "Hit it," he invited.
"I'll hurt you," Rick objected.
"No. My hand will give with the arrow. I want an idea of the impact."
Rick nodded. He nocked the arrow, took a firm stance, and drew. For an
instant he held, then loosed smoothly.
The ball smacked into the scientist's hand. The scientist swung lightly
with the blow and stood grinning, the ball and its projecting shaft held
firmly in his hand.
"A real beanball," Zircon boomed. "It will do, Rick. Now check your
equipment and put it away. We have to make plans."
Rick realized the professor had chosen an apt simile when he said
beanball. Like a fast ball hurled by a big-league pitcher, the arrow
could be caught in the hand, but would knock for a loop anyone it hit in
the head. Now all he had to do was shoot straight just one time.
Zircon gathered the boys around him. "Tony says the lookout changes at
sundown, and again sometime near dawn. So, if we make our try as soon
after dark as possible, we'll have until dawn to return. And this time,
there will be no beating to windward with the vinta. We'll take it in as
you did last night. But when it's time to leave, Chahda will come after
us in the big boat. Meanwhile, we say nothing to Tony and Howard. We'll
explain after we've landed."
The Hindu boy looked pained. "I not go?"
Zircon put a hand gently on the boy's wounded shoulder. "You can't climb
without opening that shoulder, Chahda. So you're elected to operate the
boat. You'll keep your own radio set and we'll call you in when we're
ready to be taken off. And when we call, come a-running!"
"That I will do," Chahda promised.
"Right. Now, from your description of the climb, boys, I think we need a
few rope ladders. Let's get started making them!"