The Wailing Octopus
As Rick steered the _Water Witch_ to its anchorage above the reef, he
told Scotty about the theory he had developed that morning.
He concluded, "Their going out to take a look where we were diving is
another piece of evidence. Unless they were afraid that we might be
interested in their stuff--whatever and wherever it is--why would they
be so concerned about what we're doing?"
"It makes a lot of sense," Scotty agreed soberly. He looked at Rick with
a sudden twinkle. "It might be a good idea to take a look around down
below--just so we'll know what to stay away from, of course."
Rick grinned.
By the time they dropped anchor, Scotty had the diving gear rigged and
it was only the work of minutes to get into the water. Each carried a
spear gun in one hand and a wrecking bar in the other. Ordinarily they
would not have bothered with the guns, but being armed seemed just
common sense.
On the bottom, Rick scouted around the wreck, looking for signs of its
former structure while Scotty attacked the stern with a crowbar. Under
Scotty's prying, a timber suddenly gave with an audible crack, and a
huge grouper that must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds rushed
past Rick, startling him half to death until he saw what it was.
Scotty hooted in derision as Rick back-pedaled, then he put his bar down
and swam to Rick's side. He scrawled on his belt slate, "Whre he cm
frm?"
Rick shrugged. It was a good question. They swam slowly around, looking
for the grouper's hiding place and failed to locate it. Rick knew the
big fish liked caves, rocky clefts, and the interiors of wrecks. This
one must have a hole somewhere.
He tried again, going right down to the bottom and crawling along with
stomach touching the sand. Even so, he might have missed the hole if
stirred-up dust from the fish's sudden departure hadn't indicated where
it was. The hole, big enough for him to crawl through, was _under_ the
wreck, hidden by rotted planks covered with marine growth. He hooted for
Scotty's attention and showed it to him.
He took his belt slate and wrote, "Way into shp?"
Scotty nodded and wrote in his turn, "Too drk. Need lites."
Rick nodded. For a moment he was tempted to try ripping off the planks
with his bar, but he decided against it. Any disturbance might very well
collapse the entire structure. He wondered whether the hole was just a
shallow opening, or whether it actually led into the ship. No matter.
They had watertight flashlights with their spare gear in the boat. They
could find out on the next dive.
For their remaining time underwater he joined Scotty in his assault on
the stern of the ship. They were rewarded by finding what was evidently
the interior of a cabin. Rick ripped off another plank, then jumped as
Scotty hooted four times for danger. The cabin was the home of a fairly
large moray eel! Both boys dropped their bars and grabbed for their
spear guns, but Scotty held up his hand in a sign to wait. Rick did so,
and saw the big eel emerge and swim rapidly toward the reef.
Scotty had shown wisdom. The moray is hard to kill, and this one would
have given them a battle that might have used up more air than they
could spare.
The water inside the cabin was murky. Rick looked at his watch. They had
only a few minutes left. He wrote on his slate, "Sty dwn til rsrve
wrning."
Scotty nodded agreement.
They watched as the water settled and the interior of the cabin grew
clearer. Evidently it had been a very small cabin. There was a rotted
frame that might once have been a single bunk, and a few broken, almost
disintegrated boards that might have been a table. Mattress and bedding
had long since vanished. Then Rick spotted a squarish shape under the
ruin of the bunk and motioned to Scotty. They went in after it.
The top crumbled under their touch and silt rose into the water around
them. But Rick persisted and felt fabric under his hands. He pulled it
out and recognized a seaman's jacket, brass buttons corroded and fabric
nearly rotted through. Apparently they had found a sea chest, but their
exploring hands discovered nothing but rotted fabrics.
Rick felt the warning constriction that told him he had only minutes
left. He pulled down the reserve lever of his tank and touched Scotty's
arm. He hooted twice for the ascent.
Back in the _Water Witch_, they connected their tanks to the compressor,
put the regulators on charged tanks, then tested their underwater
flashlights.
Rick said, "Do you realize I haven't taken a single picture?"
"Why not take some on the next dive?"
"Good idea." Rick went into the cabin and brought out his camera.
The camera was the same one he had adapted for night movies, during
their adventure known as _Smugglers' Reef_. He had built an underwater
case for it from stainless steel and Lucite. An intricate gear
arrangement allowed him to focus or change aperture underwater, and a
light meter in the rear of the case told him what setting to use. There
was an ordinary inner-tube valve projecting from one side by which the
case could be charged with compressed air to compensate for the pressure
of the water. The unit was battery-powered and had a bracket for
mounting the infrared light used for night photography.
He unscrewed the front of the case and took the camera from its mount.
He hesitated. "Suppose there's enough light down there for color film?"
"There might be," Scotty replied, "but you wouldn't gain much by using
color. Everything would photograph in shades of green. Might as well
have it in shades of gray."
"You've got a point." Rick loaded the camera with fast black-and-white
film and returned it to the case. Then he replaced the cover and
disconnected the compressor long enough to pump pressure into the camera
case. "Ready to go," he announced.
"Take it easy," Scotty said. "We'd better rest a half hour or so. If we
don't knock ourselves out, we can get in three more dives today."
Rick knew the wisdom of that. He adjusted the camera and took a series
of "establishing" shots, to establish that the movie had been taken on a
boat near an island. Then, when the time came to dive, he photographed
Scotty entering the water. At his direction, Scotty got out again, while
Rick got in, swam down a few feet, and took a shot of Scotty entering
from that angle. Then the camera followed as Scotty flippered smoothly
down into the deep water.
Rick followed, camera extended in front of him, sighting through the
gun-type sights mounted on top of the case. There was a handgrip on each
side, with the controls handy to his fingers. By watching the light
meter he could change his exposure as the shifting light required.
He moved ahead of Scotty, panned across the wreck, then reversed the
camera to photograph Scotty approaching. On a hunch, he stood well back
when Scotty approached the underwater entrance and got a picture that
was priceless! The grouper had returned to his home, and frightened by
the light that suddenly probed his hide-out, he flashed out and caught
Scotty by surprise. Scotty dropped his flashlight and back-pedaled
frantically. Grinning, Rick kept his camera grinding. Scotty turned and
saw that Rick was shooting, and held both hands to his face in mock
dismay. Rick cut and secured the camera to an outcropping with its
safety line.
Scotty picked up his light and crawled slowly into the opening. Rick
waited, watching anxiously to be sure his friend's hoses and regulator
cleared the entrance. Then Scotty vanished inside. In a moment he
reappeared, headfirst, and beckoned.
Rick followed him in, his own flashlight extended. It was a little murky
from the grouper's hurried departure, but he saw instantly that they
were in what had been for those days a large cabin. This must have been
the skipper's quarters. His light picked out the remains of furniture,
including one massive chair that was still in good condition.
Scotty gestured with his light and Rick saw an oaken door. He swam over
to it and inspected it closely. It was still firm, still in place. Where
did it lead?
There was only one way to find out. He took hold of the old-fashioned
handle and pulled. The door didn't budge. Rick tried again and failed.
He swung himself around and put both feet on the wall next to the door,
then applied leverage.
The handle came completely off. Rick sailed backward across the cabin
and his tank rang like a bell as it struck something metallic. Scotty
hurried to his side, and Rick gestured that he was all right. They
turned to inspect the object against which Rick had hurtled and found
that it was the still-sound strap for a beam, probably made of wrought
iron.
Rick took his belt slate and wrote, "Whre wld he hide it?"
Scotty read it with his light, then shrugged. They began a methodical
inspection of the cabin, surprised that it was so clear of marine life.
Rick surmised that the opening had developed only recently, perhaps from
the shifting of the ship. They found a closet and a heap of what had
once been clothes on its floor. Then Scotty made the big discovery of
the day. He reached into a shelf space above the bunk, hand exploring,
and touched something hard. He drew it out. It looked like a
green-covered bundle about a foot long and two inches thick. But before
he had a chance to inspect it further, his air gave out and both boys
hurried to the surface on their reserves.
Aboard the _Water Witch_ they shed their equipment and sat down to
inspect Scotty's find. The covering proved to be layer after layer of
oilcloth, wrapped around the object. The outer layers had deteriorated
somewhat, but the inner ones were intact.
Scotty finished unwrapping and found a second wrapping of still-dry
linen. He pulled the linen off, and both boys gasped. It was a jeweled
dagger, with a good-sized ruby winking in its hilt!
"Take it out of the sheath," Rick suggested.
Scotty did so, and disclosed a blade covered with some hard brown
substance. "That's not rust. Got a jackknife?"
Rick found one and handed it to him. Scotty scraped and was rewarded by
the gleam of bright metal.
"It must have been coated with heavy grease," Rick remarked. "During the
years, the grease hardened into a permanent rustproof coating. Wait
until the scientists see this!"
Scotty grinned his pleasure. "This is one treasure the log didn't
mention. Poor Captain Campion must have thought a lot of it to protect
it so thoroughly."
"He might have been taking it to the New World as a gift for some
influential friend," Rick ventured. "It looks like Spanish work."
Scotty looked at Rick speculatively. "Are you making a claim on this?"
Rick knitted his brows. What was Scotty driving at? "You found it," he
said. "Technically, we're supposed to share and share alike, the four of
us and Barby. But how do you split a dagger? And we wouldn't sell it,
anyway. It's too nice a souvenir."
"I'll ask Tony and Zircon," Scotty said, "but if none of you have any
objection, I would like to claim it, because I want to give it to Dad
for a birthday present next month."
Rick punched him on the arm. "You'll get no objection from me. Or from
Tony and Zircon either."
"I can buy presents for the family," Scotty said slowly. "I do, on
birthdays and Christmas. But I've always wanted to give Dad something
really special, something to tell him how I feel about being taken into
the family."
Rick nodded. He knew how Scotty felt, and he liked him all the better
for it. "Let's get ready for the next dive," he said abruptly.
They went through the necessary checks on their equipment, transferring
the regulators to the third set of tanks. Rick decided to leave the
camera on the boat this time. He was anxious to inspect the ship
thoroughly, and photography took time.
After a half hour of rest the boys went back into the water again,
carrying their wrecking bars and spear guns, flashlights on their belts.
An inch-by-inch inspection of the cabin disclosed no more treasures, but
Rick found a plate, still intact. He wondered if it were the plate from
which the captain had last dined before the pirate attack, and put it
outside the entrance to be carried to the surface.
Once satisfied that the cabin held no secrets, the boys attacked the
door. It was hard work, and they raised so much dust that their light
beams were almost useless. However, they struggled on until the door
finally gave, only to admit quantities of sand.
Rick guessed that the door had opened onto a deck that was now buried
far under the sand. They went outside to allow the murkiness to settle
in the cabin, and Rick consulted his watch. Their time was nearly up. He
hooted to Scotty and they surfaced.
The first tanks they had used were ready now. They shifted the
regulators and hooked up another pair to the compressor.
"I'm afraid Tony was right," Rick said. "We'll have to take the ship
apart piece by piece."
Scotty examined his foot where the fin was rubbing a little. "What would
be a logical hiding place? If I were the captain, I'd probably hide the
statue under false flooring or something. Anyway, I'd hide it aft, in
officer's country, and not near the forecastle where the crew lived."
"That's probably right. Anyway, we won't have time to do much wrecking
today. What say we hunt for loose boards in the cabin?"
Scotty grinned. "The treasure fever has got our boy Rick. Have you
forgotten we were going to see what those fancy frogmen were curious
about?"
Rick grinned back, a little sheepishly. "You're right. I had forgotten.
Well, we can spend half the time looking for the treasure and the other
half looking for the frogmen's cache."
The search for the treasure disclosed no loose boards, or anything
resembling a secret hiding place. At the end of ten minutes they turned
from the wreck and swam along the bottom toward the reef.
Since they had no idea what they were looking for, the search couldn't
be a very carefully planned one. Rick led the way, following the reef,
taking time to examine the coral formations. There were countless sea
urchins, and enough small fish to feed the entire population. Bigger
fish, however, were not plentiful. Once Rick saw a snook that would have
been worth taking, but the fish sped off into the watery gloom. Again,
Scotty called his attention to a deadly scorpion fish. This small,
rather weird-looking little creature had a dangerous defense mechanism
in the spines of his back. His poison bore a strong resemblance to cobra
venom. The boys gave him a wide berth.
Now and then a moray glared at them with unwinking eyes from a crevice,
but the boys paid no attention. The morays wouldn't attack unless
disturbed, and there was no reason for disturbing them. Rick wondered if
the big one they had ousted from the wreck had found a new home.
They passed a colony of sea worms, colorful even in the green light. The
worms were pretty, but their long hairs could give a painful sting.
Their time was growing short. Rick consulted his watch, then his depth
gauge. They were at eighty-five feet. Because of the shallower water
they would have a little more time, perhaps another five minutes before
constricted breathing told them only a few minutes of air remained.
Scotty found a puffer and waved at him, but the fish paid no attention.
Scotty motioned to Rick, then reached out and scratched the creature's
stomach. It began to gulp water until it resembled a balloon. They left
it to return to normal in its own time. On the surface, the puffer would
have gulped air in the same way. They had caught them on lines many
times.
They were past the _Water Witch_ now, Rick estimated. He hooted at
Scotty, then led the way up to a depth of about forty feet. There he
started back along the cliff.
Suddenly he wished he had brought a game bag attached to his belt. The
reef here was alive with shellfish. He identified cowries, whelks, and
some excellent specimens of Triton's horn. They would have to come back
again, to collect some to take home. The biggest problem was getting the
animals out of their shells, unless there were some anthills on the
island. Ants would do the job neatly in a few days.
Scotty hooted, and pointed. Directly ahead was a small shelf. Rick moved
to Scotty's side and saw the dark opening of a cave. Next to the opening
was a small octopus. As they approached he changed color, trying to
imitate the multicolored coral against which he rested.
Rick reached out a hand and the animal retreated, sliding into the mouth
of the cave. Apparently this was his home, because the ledge was
littered with shells from a number of meals.
Now Rick wished for his camera, then smiled inwardly. To satisfy all his
unexpected wishes he would need a sort of underwater trailer to tow his
gear.
Scotty moved close to the octopus and it retreated still further. Both
boys knew the creatures were harmless to divers, and some divers even
handled them. But there were reports of divers being bitten while
playing with octopuses, and they had learned long ago that unnecessary
risks were foolish.
Rick suddenly rocked back as his ears were smitten by sound. A wail
echoed in his head, so intense that it almost hurt. Scotty started, too,
and reached for the ledge in his astonishment.
The octopus peered out of the cave, and the wail came again, buzzing
uncomfortably in their heads. And in that moment, Rick's air gave out.
He pulled the reserve lever and planed to the surface, Scotty close on
his heels.
On the _Water Witch_ they stared at each other.
"Did you hear that?" Scotty demanded.
"I'll say I did!"
"That octopus wailed," Scotty insisted. "Twice!" He hesitated, then put
Rick's thoughts into words. "Only--octopuses don't wail. They don't make
noise of any kind."
"This one did," Rick said. "A wailing octopus! This is either a new
scientific find, or ..."
"Or we've found what the fancy frogmen didn't want us to find," Scotty
concluded.