Attack from the Deep
For the next three days, activity went on at a feverish pace. Camp was
hastily set up again on the same island, and even when it was late in
the day, Biff, Derek, and Uncle Charlie would try another spot hoping to
locate the fishery.
They dived from sunup to sundown. The only rest period for Biff and
Derek came when Uncle Charlie dashed into Trinité to replenish the air
tanks.
The piles of shucked oyster shells grew higher and higher. No pearls
were found. The boys worked desperately against time, but as the first
day passed, then the second, then the third, they worked with heavy
hearts. The time limit was drawing near.
Dietz made no further attacks. He was content now to fight his battle in
the courts. But the pearl fishers knew he was still in the area. They
saw his boat from time to time. He was keeping his distance, but he was
still watching.
However, even by using binoculars, Dietz would be unable to determine
whether the boys located the pearl fishery. He could only learn this by
finding out the results of the daily diving. He would have to know what
the opened oysters yielded. For this reason, a nightly guard was kept.
Although Dietz was going to use the courts, the search party didn’t want
him to know if and when they did locate the fishery. Crunch insisted on
taking the night guard duty. He also worked during the day. Biff often
wondered when the big Indian slept.
Although the danger from Dietz had lessened, Charlie Keene kept
reminding the boys of the danger that always awaited them when they were
diving.
It struck suddenly and viciously on the fourth morning of their diving.
Biff and Derek were down in forty-eight feet of water. They had been
digging out oysters for half an hour. Basket after basket had been
hauled up.
Waiting for his basket to be lowered to him, Biff was suddenly spun
around by a swirl of water. It felt as if he had been caught in a
whirlpool. Biff cleared his mask. He looked around. Coming at him out of
the murky dark waters was a giant shark. The killer swept by within a
foot, then turned and slashed back.
Biff looked frantically for Derek. He saw his glimmering white shape ten
feet away. Approaching Derek was a second shark.
The sharks hadn’t struck yet. It seemed they were inspecting their prey,
waiting before their razor-sharp teeth tore at the boys’ bodies. Biff
swam quickly over to Derek. He grabbed his arm and pointed. The two huge
sharks were motionless, their wicked eyes on the boys.
[Illustration: _Coming at him out of the murky dark waters was a giant
shark_]
Biff took a deep breath, raised his mask just enough to clear his mouth,
and shouted as loud as he could. His shout, of course, made no sound.
But Biff knew that the force of the breath expelled by his shout would
send a shock wave in the direction of the sharks. He had read that this
was one of the best ways of delaying an attack by an undersea monster.
The shout worked. The sharks swam around the boys in circles. But Biff
knew that any second they would strike.
There was no time now to go by the book in getting to the surface. Biff
jammed his face mask on, quickly cleared it of water, grabbed Derek by
the arm, and shoved him upward. He himself followed, propelling himself
as fast as he could. Both boys had jettisoned their belts instantly.
Breaking the surface, Biff gasped to his uncle, “Sharks!”
Charlie Keene lost no time. He grabbed Derek, who was closer, and hauled
him into the boat. Crunch lifted Biff in.
They were no sooner in the boat than two shark fins cut the water,
circling nearer and nearer to the craft.
Biff and Derek lay gasping on the bottom of the boat. Their rapid ascent
had drained their bodies of oxygen and strength.
Biff’s uncle quickly started the motor and got away from the spot at
full speed. He had seen the size of the sharks. They were big enough to
overturn the dory if they struck.
By the time they reached the island camp, the boys had somewhat
recovered. But Biff was still shaking as if he had a chill, and Derek’s
face was drawn and white.
The narrow escape the boys had undergone was not without its reward,
however.
All four of the pearl fishers—Crunch was now one of them—were shucking
oysters after a rest and the noonday meal.
Biff, growing more and more bored with the tough job of opening and
examining oysters, was about to discard a shell when he noticed a raised
protuberance in the exact center on the shell. He took off his glove and
dug at the raised part with a fingernail. His excitement grew. Seconds
later he dug out an almost perfectly shaped white pearl.
“I’ve got one! I’ve got one!” he shouted.
The others crowded around him. Biff handed the pearl to his uncle.
Charlie Keene inspected it carefully.
“I’m no expert, Biff. But the color, and particularly the shape, of this
pearl—I’d say you’ve found a really valuable one.”
“How much? How much is it worth?”
“I couldn’t tell. Only an expert could. But it’s a white pearl—they’re
the most valuable. And it’s almost perfectly round. It could be worth
several thousands of dollars.”
“Whoopee!” Biff shouted. “Let me at more of those oysters!”
Interest quickened. The four worked in silence, but they worked fast.
Oyster after oyster was opened, carefully inspected, then tossed aside.
Derek found the next one. It, too, was perfectly shaped, but slightly
smaller than the one Biff had found.
It was Crunch who came through with the topper. A big grin on his face,
Crunch came over to Biff and held our his huge hand. In the center of
his palm was a pearl twice the size of those already found.
“This is it! This is it! Look at Crunch’s pearl!”
Again they all crowded around. This was a real beauty. It didn’t take an
expert to know that Crunch had found a pearl of great value.
“Think we’ve found it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked. “I mean the fishery
Derek’s father discovered?”
“It could be, Biff. It darn well could be.”
Biff looked at Derek. There was a smile on the Dutch boy’s face. Then
the smile disappeared.
“What’s the matter, Derek?” Biff asked.
“My father found black pearls,” Derek replied.
“They’re all colors, Derek,” Uncle Charlie told him. “Actually, the
black ones aren’t as valuable as the white. They’re valuable, all right,
especially if they’re perfectly matched, as those two your father sent
us were.”
“I’d feel a lot more certain that we’d found the right place if we found
some black ones.”
“Let’s go back down when we finish these oysters,” Biff said.
“With all those sharks?”
“Funny thing about sharks,” Uncle Charlie said. “Although they are the
pearl diver’s greatest enemy, they can also help produce the pearl.”
“How?” Biff wanted to know.
“The best pearl is the perfectly round pearl. The foreign body which
gets into the oyster must be perfectly round to produce the perfect
pearl. These round objects are the eggs of parasitic worms. The adult
worms are the parasites of sharks.”
“So where you find sharks, you can find pearls?” Biff asked.
“Not exactly, Biff. What I mean is this: where there are pearl
fisheries, the perfect pearls come from the eggs the shark’s parasites
lay.”
No more pearls were found in the batch dug that morning. It was growing
late in the afternoon. They decided to go back to the morning’s site,
and if no sharks were in evidence, they’d try half an hour’s diving.
They returned to the same site. Biff and Derek went overside. Before
they started scooping up oysters, they made sure no sharks were around.
Biff loaded one basket and sent it up. He saw Derek send one up. Biff
filled another. He looked at his watch. They’d been down twenty minutes.
“One more basket,” Biff said to himself, “and we’ll call it a day.” He
turned in Derek’s direction to signal to him that this was the last
basket. Roiling water ahead pushed an alarm button in Biff’s mind. He
increased his speed.
Derek was being attacked savagely by giant band shells. They swarmed
around him, slashing at him with their claw-shaped, horny shells.
Biff whipped out his knife and shot into action.
The giant band shells, many times the size of the ordinary conch shell,
are the only known shell fish to attack human beings. They have a tough,
scimitar-shaped muscle which they use as a door to close the opening at
the large end of the shell. While other conches use this muscle only as
a door, the giant band shell uses it as a weapon. The end of the muscle
is hooked and razor sharp. The giant band shell springs at a man, using
a second muscle to propel itself, then slashes and cuts with its “door.”
In moments, it can cut a man’s body to shreds.
These giants were surrounding Derek. Up close, Biff could see Derek had
already received several cuts. Biff knew what this meant. Sharks would
come racing through the water, crazed with hunger by the smell of blood.
Biff slashed away at the band shells with his knife. It did no good. The
giant shells continued their attack, some of them turning on Biff. There
was only one thing to do. Derek was nearly helpless. Biff grabbed him.
He shoved him upward with all his strength. Derek disappeared above him.
Now the band shells turned their full attack on Biff. He fought them
off, trying at the same time to rise. Several of them tried to fasten
onto Biff’s legs. He kicked out desperately. He thrust down with his
open hands and shot upward. The slower moving band shells were left
behind. Biff reached the surface. He lost no time in scrambling into the
boat. Uncle Charlie already had pulled Derek, bleeding, into the boat.
Biff just made it. No sooner was he in the boat than the waters around
it boiled with maddened sharks, searching for the source of the blood.