_At Bay_
Fourteen humans stood at bay on the cold sea-floor, dazed by the
ruthless stroke of ill-luck which had taken the _NX-1_ from where they
had left it.
"It's gone," whispered Graham over and over in a hopeless tone. Keith
tried to pull himself together. He had to think of his men.
In a second, his whole plan, which had seemed to be approaching
success so rapidly, was smashed by the disappearance of the submarine.
Mechanically he kept his helmet-light playing into the ever-thickening
eyes and tentacles around him, while he scanned the sea-floor nearby.
It was filling more closely than ever with the black, writhing forms
of the cuttlefish. The rays still held them back, but their great bulk
loomed over the small party of humans like a sinister storm cloud.
Soon, in their overwhelming mass, they would crush down, and the
submarine's crew be conquered by sheer force of numbers.
"Look!" Keith cried. "There's where she was lying!"
He pointed out on the floor of the square a deep groove, obviously
made by the hull of the _NX-1_. Its length and jaggedness seemed to
denote that the submarine had tried to bore into the bed of the cavern
itself. Wells was mystified. If the octopi-ship had towed her away,
she would certainly not have gouged that deep scar on the sea
bottom....
But he dismissed the strange disappearance from his mind. He had to
work out a plan of action.
"Keep together, men, and follow that scar!" he ordered tersely.
"There's a chance that the _NX-1's_ somewhere further along!"
It was a futile hope, he knew--but there was nothing else. The tiny
group, centered in the inverted bowl of black, writhing tentacles,
lumbered onward.
* * * * *
Then the octopi struck with another weapon, in an effort to dull the
spearing beams of white. Here and there from the mass of black an even
blacker cloud began to emerge. It quickly settled over the whole
scene, pervading it with a pitchy, clinging darkness that obscured
each man from his neighbor.
"Ink!" cried one of them. It was sepia from the cuttlefish's ink
sacs--the weapon with which these monsters of the underseas blind and
confuse their victims.
"Faster!" the commander roared in answer. "And for heaven's sake, keep
together!"
They huddled closer. Under the protecting cloud of ink the mass of
octopi pressed nearer. The struggle became fantastic, unreal, as the
brilliant beams of white bored through the utter blackness searching
for eyes which the men knew were there, yet could not see until their
rays chanced upon them. Snaky shadows milled horribly close to the
little group of bulging yellow figures. Blacker and blacker grew the
water; they could not always see the monsters as they drove them back
on each side. Now and then a bold tentacle actually touched one of
them for a moment before its owner was thrust, blinded, away.
Suddenly the dark cloud cleared a little as the fight moved into an
unseen current. Their range of vision lengthened to ten or twelve
feet; they could dimly sense the looming mass of cuttlefish: and it
was less often that one of the monsters darted forward, daring the
rays of white, and became altogether visible. When this did happen,
half a dozen dazzling beams converged on the octopus' eyes and drove
it back in writhing agony.
The men were the hub of a grotesque cartwheel, whose spokes were
inter-crossing rays of white. They still forged onward along the
groove, but moved more slowly now, and Keith Wells, tired to death,
realized the combat could not go on much longer. Their advance was
useless; a mere jest. The _NX-1_ had vanished. It would only be a
question of time before their batteries gave out, or the swarms of
octopi crushed in on the struggling crew. Their overwhelming numbers
would tell in the end.... The men were silent, except for the
occasional gasps which came from their laboring lungs.
* * * * *
And then the king of the octopi appeared.
Keith had been wondering, in the aching turmoil that was his brain,
where the gold-banded monarch was. He knew the monster had been
rescued, and he dreaded coming face to face once more with that huge
form. Now, armlets of glittering yellow suddenly flashed in the thick
of the besieging tentacles, and two great evil eyes glared for a
second at Keith Wells. The commander flung a burst of light at them
and laughed crazily as the monster scurried back. For a few moments
the king was not visible.
"Well, fellows," Wells said, "it won't be long now. His Majesty's back
on the field." He grinned a little through his weary face. "I wonder
what he'll hatch up to combat our helmet-lights? Watch close: he's
damn clever!"
The commander did not have long to wonder. The vague wall of tentacles
began retreating deeper into the ink. Keith could not imagine the
reason for it, but held himself taut and ready. His men, likewise
noting the move, unconsciously grouped closer, waiting tensely for
they knew not what.
The king of the octopi had indeed hatched a plan of attack. After a
moment the mass of creatures again became slowly visible, but this
time when the rays shot out they did not hold them back. Could
not--for their eyes were not visible.
"My God!" Wells cried. "They're coming backwards!"
* * * * *
It was so. The octopi--no doubt under their ruler's orders--had turned
themselves around, and now, with eyes directly away from the dazzling
shafts of white, were closing slowly in on the humans from all sides.
The helmet-lights were useless. They could not reach the creatures'
eyes.
Tentacles coiling, whipping, interweaving, the wall of flesh pressed
in. Death stared the helpless crew of the _NX-1_ in the face. First
Officer Graham shrugged his shoulders and said tiredly:
"Well, I guess it's all over.... Unless," he added with a feeble
smile, "somebody figures a way to melt us through the sea-floor...."
Keith Wells' face suddenly lit up with an idea. He swung around and
roared:
"The hell it's over! We can go _up_!"
His crew understood at once. "What fools we--" Graham began, but Keith
cut him short.
"Listen," he rapped quickly. "Jam together in one bunch and lock arms
tight. When I give the word, flood your suits with air. We'll go up
like comets; crash right through the devils.... Hurry!... All ready?"
He saw that they were. "Then, together--go!" he commanded.
As one man the crew adjusted their air-controls, bulging the sea-suits
with air. Their weighted feet left the cavern floor at once, and,
locked tightly together, the whole fourteen of them shot like a bullet
to the living ceiling of unsuspecting cuttlefish above.
They hit with a terrific crash. Keith was momentarily stunned by the
force of impact. He felt himself torn away from his men, felt a dozen
tentacles snake over him, and mechanically stabbed out with his
helmet-light. For a moment he was held; then the air and his light
pulled him through, and he broke out through the top.
In his rocketing upward progress the extra oxygen rapidly cleared his
mind. Glancing below he saw a great, dark, many-fingered cloud
dropping rapidly away, and was glad to know that the octopi could not
follow him into the lesser pressures above without their suits. Over
the dark cloud he glimpsed a few scattered pin-points of light--the
helmet-beams of the other men. They were rising as swiftly as he.
"Thank God!" he murmured reverently. "We broke through! We broke
through!"