Weston brought himself under control and tried another tack. "What's in
this for you, Scarface?" he asked. "You don't strike me as the Sunday
School type. You know what the score is around here. So why don't you
put in with us or sit out?"
"Your business and what you do is none of _my_ business," said
Scarface, "as long as you leave my friends alone. These are my friends,
so lay off!"
"Look out!" screamed Valerie, and Uncle Andy jerked Scarface out of the
way just in time to avoid Whitey's lunge.
Whitey lunged again, for the gun, and as Scarface turned toward him,
Weston threw an arm around his neck that looked like the root of an
oak tree. Scarface kicked out at Whitey, making him lose his balance,
and Pee Bee bowed his back as Whitey went over him. When Pee Bee
straightened up, two things happened. His head collided solidly with
the big Pole's chin, knocking him out, and Whitey sailed beautifully
into the crashing waves below. His terrified yell was drowned by
foaming seawater. Simultaneously, Uncle Andy snatched the gun from
Scarface just as the latter broke loose by scraping his heels down
Weston's shins, almost breaking his arches, and at the same time nearly
pulling the other's ears off.
Weston broke free of the ear grip while Uncle Andy held the other
men at bay. As Scarface turned on Weston, the latter swung at him
ponderously. Scarface ducked and gave him a swift jab into the stomach.
As Weston doubled, he received a two-fisted uppercut, and as he toppled
he was aided on his way by a double blow across the left temple. He
came down like a brick chimney and lay there in a heap.
Pee Bee stood there rubbing his head and looking down at the prostrate
figure of the Polish cook.
"Get Whitey!" cried one of the construction men, pointing at the ocean.
"He'll drown!"
While Uncle Andy still held them at bay, they all looked at the man in
the water. Whitey was screaming and flailing wildly about, while the
undertow and the incoming waves alternately dragged him outward and
dashed him against the rocks.
"What's the matter?" asked Scarface, rubbing his knuckles. "Can't he
swim?"
"He can swim," said the same man, "but something's got him!"
As they watched, the water darkened around Whitey.
"It's blood!" cried Valerie. "Oh my God, the poor man!"
"Look!" cried Henry. "Those are devil lizards! Hundreds of them!"
* * * * *
Like a voracious swarm of piranhas, the scarlet little monsters
converged on Whitey and tore him apart. As the blood filled the
water, other "things" were attracted. There were glimpses of finned,
serpentine backs and vast, amorphous shadows beneath the churning
waves. To those who watched, the eternal light above them seemed
deceptive. Subjectively, they were aware of the dark Unknown. The very
dark _Unknown_.
_Where were they?_
One of the construction men ran away screaming. Pee Bee, carrying the
lunch basket, took Henry's arm and also started to lead the way, gently
but firmly. Uncle Andy handed the gun back to Scarface. He led Valerie
down the rock, wordlessly. And Scarface stood there looking back at the
bloodied water for a full minute.
Then he followed the others. Weston and Sceranka, he decided, would
have to come by themselves and find their own way back to camp.
The fishing pole lay there, abandoned....
The camp was similar, in effect to a military beachhead prior to
organization. There was one tent, salvaged from the survival gear
that the plane carried. This was used by the women for the purpose of
changing their clothes, as well as a sort of "safety deposit vault"
for valuable articles such as the ship's log, medicinal supplies
and various instruments--plus short wave sending and receiving gear,
now quite useless owing to a lack of power source and an absence of
activity on the wave bands.
Beyond the tent lay confusion. Small huts constructed of branches and
giant leaves, or square areas enclosed by sheets or towels, suspended
on crude frameworks rigged together with poles. Here and there a more
presentable structure of branches indicated the work of construction
men. Between these were scattered both small and large heaps of luggage
and personal belongings--suitcases, pullmans, hatboxes, overnight bags,
small trunks, packing cases--even an aluminum cage in which reposed
a bewildered Pekingese dog. A very lonely dog. The only dog in the
universe.
Inevitably, there were clotheslines displaying underwear, shirts,
socks, silk stockings, bras--and a man's pair of black silk monogrammed
pajamas. These latter belonged to the Englishman, Sir Cyril Rollins.
And there was a hammock strung between two straight-boled trees without
leaves which bore a weird fruit that looked like pomegranates. The
hammock was shared by the three soldiers from Texas. Just now the
hammock was empty except for a ukelele and a million year old copy of
Life Magazine.
Farther up the endless beach was the plane, lying crumpled on its
belly, with wings drooping dejectedly into the sand and water. One of
the landing gears had burst up through a nacelle. The great, swift,
mechanical bird of another age was a useless thing--and a painful
reminder of what once was their own familiar world.
Altogether there were in camp sixty males and twenty-four females,
representing three races and eight nationalities. A cross section of
the human race. Seemingly, all there was left of it.
* * * * *
When Henry returned with the others to camp, Martia was the first to
greet him. She had suddenly lost the last vestige of her patrician
affectations, because she ran to him abruptly. Or rather, their
thoughts seemed to meet between them even before they drew together. He
squeezed her hand warmly as she drew him to one side, excitedly.
"Mother is lost!" she exclaimed. Her eyes were slightly reddened from
crying.
"Lost! How do you know?"
"She and Sir Rollins and that Mr. Langham and the Crispin sisters and
those two mothers who lost their babies went exploring for spring
water. They've been gone all day and nobody can find them! Henry, I'm
so worried! Can you speak to your Uncle and ask him to organize a real
search party. There's no night here. We can start right away!"
"But the meeting--"
"Please!" she insisted.
"What I mean is, no search party can be organized during the big
meeting, and that's about ready to get under way--after everybody eats
supper." They could see the fires along the beach where men and women
were cooking. Either they were cooking small game caught in traps or
certain species of edible crustacea, or a potato-like fruit that was
abundant in this region. The food from the plane was long gone. "Why
doesn't your governess do something about it? What does she think?"
"Emily? She made a few soldier boys go with her to search--those three
Texas boys--and I think three of those WAACs went along. But they've
disappeared, too!"
"All right," said Henry. "Let's go see Uncle Andy."
They found him, with Valerie Roagland and the air hostess, Peggy
Hollenbeck, engaged in a group discussion that included Captain Merman,
several high-ranking U.S. Army officers and the five congressmen led
by Burley. Also, there were a few businessmen and scientists present,
including Dr. Edwards. Most of them stood around a charcoal fire
boiling small chunks of meat on long wires and drinking "Beachcomber's
Tea," made from the leaves of a giant vine that someone had discovered.
A chemist and a doctor had collaborated on its analysis and found it to
be healthful.
"We still represent the United States," Congressman Burley was saying,
"and Colonel Rogers here says that the servicemen are on our side.
Also, we can count on the English to be with us, if necessary, and the
three Norwegians. I don't think Weston has a chance of making trouble.
Now here is a list compiled today showing the number of men--"
* * * * *
Congressman Burley stopped talking and followed the gaze of all the
others. He saw Henry and Martia standing by the fireside, holding hands
and looking very impatient.
"All right!" he said. "You kids will have to clear out. We're having a
conference."
"That," said Henry, "is somewhat obvious. But I--"
"Now look here! Don't you get sassy!" Burley glared at Henry
impatiently, but Uncle Andy walked over to the boy and put an arm
around his shoulders. He placed his other arm around Martia.
"Just a minute!" he interrupted. "I'm afraid you don't know Henry. He
would never have intruded if he did not have something important to
say."
"Always pampering the kid," commented Dr. Edwards to Captain Merman.
"Thinks he's a genius and he's only a pest!"
"Your English allies have gotten themselves lost," said Henry. "Lady
Dewitt, Sir Rollins, the Crispin sisters, Langham, Emily Duncan,
several other women and three servicemen."
"Please!" Martia cried. "It's always daylight here. Can't a search
party be sent right away?"
Some of the men looked at Captain Merman. He was a tall, lean man in
his late thirties, still wearing the pants and shirts of his uniform,
as well as the cap. His paleness and the redness of his eyelids,
thought Henry, were probably due to a hyperthyroid condition.
"My orders," said Merman, "were that no explorations would be conducted
without proper authorization. They went on their own, principally
because of Lady Dewitt's refusal to use the river water and because our
distilled water can't be rationed in her favor. I don't see why--"
"You are engaged here in an emergency conference," said Henry, "to
determine what can be done about Tommy Weston's gang. If you're
worried, why don't you stall for time by organizing the whole camp into
a search party--including Weston's men? The physical action and the
adventure of it will be tantamount to a psychological weapon against
anarchy."
Martia beamed at Henry in pride and gratitude, but most of the men
guffawed.
"Ye gods!" exclaimed one of the other congressmen. "That sounded like
it was going to be a filibuster! Talk about lobbying! This kid is
Capitol material!"
"But it isn't getting us anywhere," said Burley.
"Just a minute," said a small, dark-complexioned man wearing a black
shirt, white slacks and dark glasses. "I've heard, second-handedly,
some interesting ideas from this boy." Henry had learned that this was
Dr. Jules Bauml, a noted astro-physicist attached to the Mount Palomar
Observatory. "He thinks we have been transported through time and that
it is futile to try contacting our own civilization unless we avail
ourselves of a time machine. Of course that is a pessimistic view, but
owing to observations of my own I should like to hear his reasons for
arriving at such a conclusion."
"Oh hell!" ejaculated one of the businessmen present. "We're probably
down in the Caribbean somewhere!"
"No, by God!" said another one. "That wouldn't explain the permanent
daylight and no sun!"
"A freak of Nature," insisted the first one. "You've heard of the Land
of the Midnight Sun. What's so different about this?"
"Everything!" said Henry.
They all looked at him, startled, including Uncle Andy.
* * * * *
Henry addressed Dr. Bauml. "As an astronomer you will understand the
nature and importance of the ionosphere," he said, amidst raised
eyebrows all around. "It is that layer of the atmosphere which protects
us from the dangerous short radiations from the sun. These quanta,
striking atoms of oxygen, create ionized oxygen and ozone, forming
the ionosphere. Such atoms are necessarily in such rapid motion that
they would be lost in space were it not for the magnitude of Earth's
gravitation. That is why Earth bears--or _bore_--a high form of
intelligent life whereas Mars must continue to lose its ionized oxygen
into space and could therefore not support a high form of life."
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Bauml, impressed. "But what has that to do with
the present?"
"Venus does not have an ionosphere," continued Henry. "Otherwise it
would have shown up in spectrographs. Its atmosphere is caused largely
by violent volcanic action. Volcanoes, incredibly heated storms and no
ionosphere, spells no oxygen and no life. Therefore, conclusion number
one: We are still on Earth."