Reunion
It was Perez Soto.
The swarthy adventurer was standing on a lava ledge not far from the
spot where Biff and Li had sighted the sunken hulk of the _Sea Islander_
earlier in the day.
Through his powerful binoculars, he had watched every movement the boys
had made. He had seen Li’s first and second dives. His glasses were of
such powerful magnification he could even see the exultant expressions
on the boys’ faces. He knew they had made an important discovery, and he
was certain what the discovery was.
A crafty smile came over his heavy features as a plan formed in his
scheming mind. He would go back to his hideout and get his henchman,
Madeira. Then, quickly to his power boat, the _Black Falcon_, and head
for the dot on the ocean where he had seen the boys.
He had little thought for Dr. Weber. The thing to do now, and do it
fast, was to get out to the sunken _Sea Islander_ and stake his salvage
claim. In the case of a lost boat, or a sunken one, it was “first come,
first served.” The important thing, though, was not only to take the
claim, but remain in possession of it.
With his glasses still on the _Easy Action_, he saw one of the boys
raising the anchor. He saw the yawl set a course toward Ka Lae, leaving
the sunken sloop abandoned.
Too bad about Dr. Weber. Maybe someone would find him, maybe they
wouldn’t. Perez Soto didn’t care. All he wanted to do now was to
establish his salvage rights, and do so in the shortest possible time.
He stepped back from the ledge and started walking rapidly toward his
hideout.
Thomas Brewster and Hanale Mahenili watched with torn emotions as Perez
Soto threatened and tormented Dr. Weber. Both men wanted to act. Both
knew, however, that to do so would not only endanger the doctor’s life,
but would also jeopardize their chances of rescuing the old man.
The morning passed. Perez Soto continued his threats. But the old doctor
held firm. He refused to answer any of his captor’s questions.
Madeira, Perez Soto’s henchman, kept his snub-nosed revolver steadily
pointed at the doctor. Brewster and Mahenili didn’t dare try to jump the
kidnapers.
About noontime, Perez Soto took the gun from Madeira. Madeira prepared
some food by lighting a small fire and heating up some stew he took from
a can. The smell of the steaming stew rising to the cliff where Brewster
and Mahenili were hiding, sent sharp pangs of hunger rumbling through
their stomachs.
Shortly after Perez Soto and Madeira had eaten, Perez Soto, as if having
an afterthought, poked a spoonful of food at the doctor’s mouth. The
doctor turned his head away.
“Look at that, Hank,” Brewster whispered. “I think the doctor wants to
die. He’s refusing food.”
“Perhaps he feels that death is preferable to any more of Perez Soto’s
threats and demands.”
About two o’clock, Perez Soto entered the cave which he was using for a
hideout and emerged minutes later with a pair of binoculars slung over
his shoulder.
“Guard the old man well,” he ordered. “I’ll be back before sunset.” He
strode off.
Brewster whispered to Mahenili. “I think our chance will come now. We’ll
let Perez Soto get well on his way, then we’ll find a way of jumping the
guard.”
The time came more quickly than either man could have hoped for.
Madeira, his stomach filled with stew, could be seen to yawn. They saw
him shake his head to ward off sleep. Apparently feeling that there was
little threat of Dr. Weber’s attempting to escape, the guard checked the
ropes binding the doctor’s hands and feet. He sat down nearby, propping
his back against a large boulder, the gun in his hands.
Brewster and Mahenili watched every move. They saw the guard’s head nod
forward. They saw him bring it up with a jerk and shake his head from
side to side in an effort to remain awake. They saw the process
repeated. For the third time, the guard’s head dropped forward. This
time, it stayed there.
“Now’s our chance,” Brewster said to his friend.
Mahenili nodded in the affirmative.
Brewster measured the distance between himself and the sleeping guard.
The drop from the ledge to the ground in front of the cave was a good
fifteen feet. From where he would land, Brewster would still have to
cross a clearing of ten feet before he could reach the guard. The noise
of his landing would certainly arouse the guard. Before Brewster could
cross the opening to close with him, the guard would have time to raise
his pistol and fire.
A plan shaped up in Thomas Brewster’s mind.
“Hank, here’s how we’ll have to do it. You crawl back. Make your way to
the rear of the guard if it’s possible. Creep up as near to him as you
can. Keep me in sight. When you see me leap from this ledge, you spring
forward. Try to take him from the rear. Hurl a rock at him, anything.
Just try to give me enough time to leap across that clearing and grapple
with the guard before he can fire. Once I get my hands on him, I can
handle him.”
“But if you can’t see me, Tom, how will you know when to leap?”
“It’s now two-twenty-two. I’ll make my move at exactly two-thirty. I’ll
just have to trust that you’ve been able to get behind the guard. Go
along now, and good luck.”
Brewster kept shifting his glance from the sleeping guard to the minute
hand on his watch. It seemed that the large hand would never reach the
half-hour mark. But it did.
At exactly two-thirty, Brewster stood up. He jumped. He went to his
knees and rolled when he hit the ground, fifteen feet beneath him. It
was a fall he had learned in his army training, one designed to prevent
a broken ankle.
He leaped quickly to his feet. The guard, awakened, stood up. He was
still groggy from sleep and confused. He could hear sounds from behind
him, and here right in front of him, a large man was charging him.
Brewster hit Madeira with a jolting right cross before the guard could
think straight. He hit the ground with a thud. Brewster was on top of
him like a hungry tiger making a kill. From the rear, Mahenili sprang
into the arena, spotted the pistol still in the guard’s outstretched
hand, and kicked it away.
The fight was over. It had been an easy victory.
In minutes, Dr. Weber was freed, and his bonds were used to truss up the
guard. As an extra precaution, Brewster used his handkerchief to gag the
guard. He didn’t want him calling for help. No telling how near Perez
Soto might be.
“Dr. Weber, my friend.” Brewster leaned over to help the doctor to his
feet. “How are you? Are you injured in any way?”
“Mostly my dignity,” the doctor grunted gruffly.
“Are you able to walk? We must get away from here before Perez Soto
returns.”
“Hurrumph!” the good doctor hurrumphed indignantly. “You youngsters seem
to think I’m an old dotard, dying on my feet.”
Mr. Brewster had to smile at being called a youngster. But he was a good
thirty years younger than Dr. Weber.
“Of course I can walk!” The doctor took two steps, and would have fallen
if Biff’s father hadn’t caught him.
Dr. Weber glared up at his friend. “Release me. All I need is for the
circulation to be restored to my legs. I’ve been tied up most of the
time.” The doctor was stubborn. He gingerly raised one leg, then the
other. He flapped his arms against his sides. He cautiously took another
step, glancing out of the side of his eye to see if Tom Brewster was
prepared to help him.
The doctor’s vitality was amazing. Brewster got him some water. He
forced him to take several mouthfuls of the stew, now cold, but energy
giving nonetheless.
“All right, now,” the doctor said. “You lead the way. I’ll follow.”
Brewster started off on a path leading down to the coast. Before doing
so, he signaled to Mr. Mahenili to stay close behind the doctor, ready
to catch him if he should fall.
Their progress downward was slow. Brewster halted every hundred yards,
sometimes more often where the descent was difficult, to allow the
doctor to regain his strength. Brewster knew Dr. Weber must be going
along on sheer nervous energy. His frail body just wasn’t young enough
to take such punishment. But Biff’s father knew also that it is amazing
to just what great limits the human body can go when forced to do so.
It was dusk when the three men stumbled onto the beach opposite the
_Easy Action_’s first anchorage. Thomas Brewster looked out over the
ocean, and his heart leaped with joy. He saw the yawl coming into its
anchorage, Li in the bow, ready to drop the anchor, and Biff at the
tiller.
“Hi, Biff! Hi, Li!” he called.