The Wailing Octopus Part 14

They grinned at each other, amused at how much alike their thought processes were.

"We'd better approach from the back," Scotty suggested.

Rick agreed. "Suppose we cross to the eastern sh.o.r.e, then walk up until we're in sight of the house. It's close to the northern tip, anyway."

It was almost fully dark now, and no lights appeared in the houses south of them. As they watched, lights showed far up the beach where the fancy frogmen lived. But there were no other lights anywhere on the island.

"Just two houses occupied," Rick said.

"We'll probably have more neighbors during the week end," Scotty answered. "The people in the house south of us must have left, but they may be back. Come on."

They made their way through the palm grove, watching fruit bats whirl against the darkening sky. There was a slight breeze, just enough to make the palms whisper. It reminded Rick of Hawaii.

The eastern sh.o.r.e was rough. The reef was much closer here, and long swells that had come all the way across the Atlantic sounded like subdued thunder as they broke. It was dark now, and only the white of the breaking water could be seen.

They walked up the eastern sh.o.r.e until the lights of the frogmen's house were directly opposite, then turned toward it, moving with caution.

"Take it easy," Rick whispered. "They may be outside."

As they drew closer they could see that the lights were in the front rooms of the house. The back was dark, except for light that came through open inner doors.

"Wait." Scotty whispered. "I'll see if they're out front."

Rick sat down to wait as Scotty vanished. Few could equal his pal when it came to moving silently and invisibly.

In a surprisingly short time Scotty reappeared. "No one out front," he reported. "They're all in the living room."

Rick rose, and together they walked swiftly and silently to the rear of the house. The door of the room in which the diving gear was stowed opened into the living room. Perhaps they could see in there.

A card game was in progress by the light of a kerosene lamp. Rick studied the face of a heavy-set, dark-haired man who sat facing him. The man wore a T s.h.i.+rt that displayed the heavy muscles of arms and chest.

His face was square-jawed and powerful, the eyes set deep under bushy eyebrows. His hair was short and curly, sprinkled with gray. He looked like one used to command. Rick's quick imagination pictured him on the quarterdeck of a slaver, ruling his cutthroat crew with iron fists.

The others were not visible through the door. The boys moved silently to the side of the house and drew back so they could look through the living-room window. The second man was visible now. He was young, perhaps in his twenties, and he had an unruly shock of blond hair. Once he might have been good-looking, but a scar crossed a nose that had been badly broken.

The third man sat with his back to them. Rick touched Scotty's sleeve and they went around the house via the back. The view was blocked by an open door.

Scotty put his lips close to Rick's ear. "The front."

Rick led the way, moving carefully because light spilled out of the front windows and the open front door. They reached a vantage point and looked in. The third man was clearly visible. The boys reached for each other at the same moment.

The third man was Steve's shadow!

Morning found the _Water Witch_ anch.o.r.ed on the reef close to the place where the boys had found the bar shot. There was no sign of activity at the fancy frogmen's house, and the boat was tied up as it had been the previous evening. Apparently they were late sleepers.

The Spindrifters tossed coins to see who would make the first dive, and the lot fell to Rick and Tony. They donned their equipment, then Rick picked up a spear gun while Tony selected a wrecking bar from his equipment.

It took ten minutes of their precious fifteen to find the wreck again.

This time, Rick took the precaution of tying a float to a projection and unwinding line while the float rose to the surface.

Tony started at one end of the ma.s.s of marine growth and inserted his wrecking bar. Rick joined him in heaving, and a cloud of dust and fish eggs rose to envelop them. It took a moment or two for the water to clear enough so they could see, then Tony hooted his triumph. The pull had exposed rotted timbers. This had to be a s.h.i.+p! But was it the _Maiden Hand_?

Rick wondered if they would ever be sure. Yet, he felt that it was, even though he realized that the feeling grew as much out of optimism and hope as anything else. Still, it was unlikely that another s.h.i.+p would be wrecked at this same depth.

Tony wrote on his slate, "Mor undr sand thn can see, likely."

Rick nodded. The s.h.i.+fting sands had undoubtedly covered, exposed, and recovered the wreck dozens of times in the years it had lain here. He looked at his watch, then reluctantly gave Tony the signal to surface.

Their time was up.

On the _Water Witch_, Tony said, "It's a s.h.i.+p all right. And since its on the western reef at twenty fathoms, I'd say that it's very likely the one we want."

"Wonder how Captain Campion pegged the depth so accurately?" Scotty inquired.

Zircon had a possible answer. "Let's a.s.sume the pirates knew he was carrying the golden statue. It would have been logical for them to sound, just to see if there was any possibility of recovering the treasure from the wreck. Since they kept Campion for ransom, he would have heard the depth mentioned."

It seemed reasonable, and it was as good an answer as any, since there was no hope of knowing whether it was right or wrong.

"How do we find the statue?" Rick asked.

Tony handed him the wrecking bar with a grin. "Take the wreck apart a piece at a time. And if you still haven't found it, start digging."

The boys sighed. Rick recalled reading somewhere that treasure hunting was synonymous with ditch digging. Now he knew what the author meant.

Scotty and Zircon prepared to dive, s.h.i.+fting the regulators to fresh tanks. While they checked equipment, Rick rummaged through the boat's locker and found a length of heavy line. An empty water jug with a screw cap was attached to it, and he handed the end of the line to Scotty to take down with him.

"The fis.h.i.+ng float and line isn't heavy enough. Let's add this, just in case."

Scotty took it and went over the side. He carried his spear gun while Zircon took the wrecking bar. Rick watched as they vanished from sight, leaving only the continuing track of bubbles.

Ash.o.r.e, a man came out of the fancy frogmen's house and walked down to the beach. He shaded his eyes and stared at the _Water Witch_. Rick pointed him out to Tony.

"This business stumps me," the archaeologist admitted. "Are you certain about the ident.i.ty of the man who was trailing Ames?"

"We're dead sure."

"Then is there any possible way he could have known about our presence on the island?"

"Not unless he recognized the _Water Witch_."

"That must be it. The question is, what do we do about it?"

"Nothing, I guess. Except to be on our guard."

Twin sets of bubbles rose, some distance from the boat, showing that both lungs were working well twenty fathoms down. Since the bubbles did not ascend vertically, they did not show the location of the two on the bottom. Rick studied them, working on an idea.

The chicken had dropped pretty close to them. But since their floats were tied to the reef, and their bubbles were carried off a vertical path by the light currents, neither could have been used to pinpoint their whereabouts--_unless whoever dropped the chicken had an excellent knowledge of the currents in this particular place_!