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CHAPTER XXI
A Human Fish

“What do you think he is up to, Biff?” Li asked in a whisper.

The swimmer was nearing the yawl.

“With that knife in his mouth, I don’t think there’s much doubt about it. Do you, Dad?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking, son.”

“Well, I think this is Perez Soto’s last, desperate effort to establish his salvage rights to the Sea Islander. I’m sure that’s his boat over there, just off our starboard bow. See it?”

The power cruiser, the Black Falcon, was sharply silhouetted now in the lightening dawn.

“Perez Soto’s sent that swimmer over to cut our anchor rope,” Biff continued. “Wouldn’t you agree, Dad?”

“You’re right, Biff.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Li asked.

“Well, if his man could cut our line, and we were still asleep, we’d drift. Even in the slight current that runs in these waters, we’d drift half a mile or more in a very short time. Once we were out of the way, he could easily sink his own line onto the Sea Islander and establish his rights of salvage.”

The swimmer was now only ten feet from the yawl. Biff reached down and pulled out a boathook, a long pole with a hook on one end, used to grab a mooring when coming into an anchorage.

“I’m going to hook me a human fish,” he whispered.

Biff raised the boathook. He rested its hooked end on the gunnel. The swimmer was now within hooking distance. Biff shot the boathook out. It grazed the swimmer’s head. Feeling it, the swimmer dived. Biff prodded forward with the boathook. He felt it catch. The pole bent just like a fishing pole as the swimmer tried to get away.

“Got him, Dad. Got him!” Biff shouted happily.

“You sure have, Biff. You got him right by the seat of his swimming trunks. Here, let me give you a hand.”

Biff pulled the pole, with his human catch on the other end, partly into the boat. He and his father put their weight onto the in-boat end. The pole became a lever, lifting their catch out of the water.

A funnier catch Biff, his father, and Li had never seen. It was Li who started laughing first.

In the rapidly increasing daylight, they could see Perez Soto’s man on the end of the pole. He was waving his arms, kicking his legs frantically.

“He looks like a crab,” Li chortled.

He did. The man, caught by the seat of his swim pants on the hook, was unable to reach back to free himself. He was suspended three feet above the water, still kicking and squirming furiously.

“What shall I do with him, Dad? Throw him back?”

Thomas Brewster was laughing.

“I’ve used many a weapon to defend myself in the past, but a boathook … this is the laughing end.” Both boys made an “ouch” face at the bad pun. Mr. Brewster turned to Li. “Get a flashlight, Li. I want to make sure who this human shark is.”

Li darted into the cabin and darted right back. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

Thomas Brewster shone the flashlight on the hooked, would-be knife wielder’s face.

“Just as I thought,” Brewster said. “It’s the man who was guarding Dr. Weber. I heard Perez Soto call him Madeira.”

Madeira, in his frantic struggling, had dropped the knife from his mouth. He was no longer any threat to the Easy Action and her crew.

“Guess I might as well drop him back in the water, hadn’t I, Dad?” Biff asked.

“Sure, son. Let him go. In the water he can free himself. Then you just watch him head back for Perez Soto and the Black Falcon.”

“You’re not serious, Dad!” Biff exclaimed. “Isn’t it dangerous to let them get away?”

But Biff didn’t have to drop Madeira back into the water. There came a ripping sound. Madeira’s hooked swim trunks split. The water prowler hit the water with a belly whopper. Pantless, he turned and swam away.

Biff, Li, and Mr. Brewster howled with laughter. When the laughter died away, Mr. Brewster said, “To answer your question, Biff. They’re too dangerous to keep aboard. We’ll have to leave them to the authorities. They’ll track them down, now.”

It had grown much lighter. It was easy to follow the swimmer’s progress back to the Black Falcon.

“He’ll go without his breakfast when he gets back,” Tom Brewster said. “Perez Soto will be furious.”

“Speaking of breakfast – ” Biff said.

“Me, too,” Li cut in.

They went below. All hungry. All happy, feeling that they were nearing the climax of their Hawaiian sea hunt.

“Looks like easy sailing from here on in, Dad,” Biff said, munching a piece of toast.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up too high, Biff.”

“Why not, Dad?”

“We still have to locate that metal box. We have no assurance that it’s still in the Sea Islander’s cabin.”

A frown of disappointment came over Biff’s face.

“I’m not saying it isn’t there, understand,” his father went on. “But remember, the Sea Islander has been on the bottom for several weeks. The box could have been tossed around in the storm that sank the boat. It might have floated out.”

“I never thought of that.”

The remainder of their breakfast was eaten in a concerned silence.

Biff and Li were cleaning up the galley. Thomas Brewster was talking to Dr. Weber. The doctor had had a good night’s sleep and said he was feeling fine. He chortled over the human fish incident.

Biff’s sharp ears caught the sound first. From a distance came a low, steady buzzing. Biff ran on deck. From just off Ka Lae, he spotted a low flying plane. It was coming directly at the Easy Action. In moments, Biff was able to distinguish its lines.

“Dad, Dad!” he called. “There’s a seaplane coming this way.”

Li was on deck first, followed by Thomas Brewster and Dr. Weber.

They watched the plane. It came in low over the yawl, dipped its wings in salute, then described a long circle to head into the wind. It settled ducklike on the water and taxied toward the Easy Action.

One man stood up in the open cockpit by the pilot. He was waving his arms.

“It’s Dad! It’s my father!” Li shouted excitedly.

“Well, it surely is. Li, when your father goes into action, he moves fast. I never thought he’d come back in a plane. I thought he’d charter another boat,” Mr. Brewster said.

The seaplane taxied to within ten feet of the Easy Action, its twin propellers barely turning, just fast enough to give the plane headway. Henry Mahenili stood up and tossed a rope toward the yawl. It fell short. He pulled it in, and again the rope snaked out toward the yawl. This time Biff caught it. He tugged on the rope, and the plane closed the gap of water separating it from the yawl. Its nose bumped gently against Easy Action’s starboard side.

“Give us about five feet of play, young man,” the pilot called out. Even in this calm sea, he didn’t want to take any chances on the nose of his plane being punched in.

“I can do better than that,” Biff called, knowing the reason for the pilot’s concern. He went below and brought out extra boat snubbers, made of foam rubber. He hooked them over the gunnel, forming a soft protecting barrier between the side of the yawl and the nose of the plane. Then he pulled the plane within two feet of the yawl, making it easy for the plane’s passengers to hop from plane to boat.

Hank Mahenili was first aboard. He was followed by a muscularly built Hawaiian. The pilot came last.

“This is Kamuela Mamola, the skin diver I hired,” Hank said, introducing the muscular young man.

“Just call me Sammy – that’s what my Hawaiian name means. You got a job for me?” the young man said.

“We sure have, Sammy,” Mr. Brewster said. “Right downstairs.” He laughed.

“That line over the port side,” Biff said, indicating the line. “That’s our anchor rope. It’s caught in the sunken sloop.”

“Good,” the diver said. “Then there shouldn’t be any trouble at all.” He hopped back aboard the plane, dug around its cabin for a few minutes, then reappeared with his skin diving equipment. This consisted of a glass face mask, and a small oxygen tank connected to his aqualung.

Coming back on the Easy Action, he donned his equipment, touched his hand to his forehead in salute, and slipped overboard.

Biff leaned over the gunnel. He saw the diver pulling himself downward, using the anchor rope to guide him. It was the same as climbing a rope hand over hand, only in reverse.

Bubbles from the aqualung kept breaking the surface.

“Never thought of this, Hank,” Tom said. “No one told Sammy what to look for.”

“Oh, yes, they did, Tom. Me. I did. On the way over. I couldn’t give him much of a description.”

“No, we don’t have much to go on. Just some kind of metal box.”

“That’s what I told him. I imagine it’s similar to the small locker-box you keep semi-valuable papers in at home. That’s what I told him, anyway.”

“We ought to know soon.”

Air bubbles dotted the surface near the port side of the Easy Action. Five minutes went by. Ten. At fifteen minutes, worry began to appear on the faces of those on board.

“Think anything could have happened to the diver?” Tom Brewster asked.

“No, Dad. Not as long as those bubbles keep coming up regularly. He’s all right. If those bubbles stop, we worry.”

After twenty minutes, Biff saw the anchor rope tighten, as if someone had pulled it from the other end.

“I think he’s coming up,” Biff said.

Everyone leaned over the portside of the boat.

Moments later, Sammy’s wet head broke the surface. He wrenched the glass face mask from his head.

Disappointment swept over the boat. The diver was empty-handed.

CHAPTER XXII
Check-Out

“Don’t look so worried,” Sammy Mamola said. The skin diver looked up at the disappointed faces. “I didn’t expect to bring up that box on my first dive. Give me a little more time. I do think I may have located it, though.”

Expressions of hope replaced the sad faces aboard the Easy Action.

“I need another tool,” Sammy said. “A short bar, two or three feet long. If what I think is the box, it’s jammed, and I can’t free it without prizing it. What have you got?”

Sammy was treading water, one hand resting lightly on the yawl’s gunnel.

“I’ll look in the tool box,” Biff said.

While he was gone, Sammy told them what he had found below.

“That boat sure took a beating. Everything in the cabin is smashed up. She’s filled with sand, and other sea trash. I had to chase some fish out, too. Especially a small octopus – didn’t want it squirting its ink around, clouding my vision. I found what I think may be your box under a mound of sand and broken sea shells. Couldn’t pull it out, though.”

“Any sign of – ”

“No, Mr. Mahenili, no sign of the poor fellow who went down with her.”

Biff had returned.

“Will this do?” He held up a metal bar, about three-quarters of an inch thick and thirty inches long. It was used to turn the engine over if its electric starter didn’t work.

“Just the thing.” Sammy reached up for it. “Well, here I go again. Maybe I’ll have better luck this time.” The diver submerged again.

All had been so interested in the diver’s activities and report that they hadn’t noticed the Black Falcon. It was Li who spotted Perez Soto’s boat.

“Look, Dad,” he called out.

The Black Falcon had left its anchorage and moved over until it was only two hundred feet from the Easy Action. Perez Soto was watching every action aboard the yawl.

“Say one thing for that man,” Tom Brewster said. “He doesn’t give up until the final chance is gone. If he sees us bring up that metal box, he’ll still try to get it away from us somehow.”

“I don’t think he will,” Hank Mahenili said.

“What do you mean?” Biff asked.

“You’ll see.” Hank Mahenili smiled mysteriously.

Another fifteen minutes went by. A steady stream of bubbles broke the surface. The diver was working. Thomas Brewster kept looking at his watch. Biff and Li, lying on their stomachs, watched the area dotted with bubbles. Biff, looking up, noticed Madeira frantically winding up the anchor winch of the Black Falcon. Perez Soto was already at the wheel, shouting at his henchman to hurry up.

“Hey, look at that,” Biff exclaimed. “Looks like Perez Soto has changed his mind. He’s in a hurry to get out of here.”

And he was. The anchor of the Black Falcon was barely out of the water when Perez Soto jammed the throttle of the cruiser full speed forward, and the boat leaped away, leaving a high, foaming wake at its stern.

“Now I wonder what made him change his mind?” Tom Brewster asked.

“I think I know the answer to that. Look over there.” Hank Mahenili said.

They looked in the direction he was pointing. A low, gray boat was coming along at a racing clip. Huge numbers on its bow identified it.

“It’s a Coast Guard cutter,” Biff shouted.

“That’s right, Biff. Now watch. We may see some fun.”

The cutter was after the Black Falcon. The cruiser was fast, but no match for the Coast Guard cutter. She closed the gap between the boats rapidly.

Perez Soto wasn’t giving up, however. He tried maneuvering, swerving the Black Falcon from one direction to another on a zigzag course.

The people on the Easy Action heard the boom of a small cannon. Looking at the cutter, they saw a puff of smoke from its forward gun. Then they saw a splash as a shell dropped just in front of the Falcon’s bow.

“If he doesn’t heave to now, the next projectile will be directed at the ship,” Mr. Mahenili said.

But Perez Soto had had enough. He heaved to. The cutter came alongside, and two Coast Guardsmen, guns in hand, boarded her.

“I imagine our troubles with Perez Soto are at an end,” Mr. Mahenili said.

“This is your doing?” Tom Brewster asked.

Hank nodded his head. “Kidnaping. I reported Perez Soto as having kidnaped Dr. Weber. He’ll be dealt with harshly. One witness against him will be Tokawto. He’s recovering. It was Perez Soto who gave him that stab wound.”

“Well, you really did get around in Hilo, Mr. Mahenili,” Biff said.

“I don’t like to leave any loose strings dangling. Incidentally, did Dr. Weber ever tell you how he happened to be abducted from his hotel room?” Hank asked Tom Brewster.

“Yes, he did. He was talking to me when he felt a sharp point in his back. That was the call I took in Indianapolis, Biff. It was Perez Soto. With a sharp knife at his back and Perez Soto threatening to use the knife, there was nothing the doctor could do but obey instructions. They walked out of the porch entrance and through the garden to a waiting car. Madeira was the driver.”

Dr. Weber smiled at the group. “Perhaps I should have resisted, but – I knew Perez Soto meant what he said. I went along, like a quiet mouse.”

An idea occurred to Biff. He dashed below. He was back in a moment. He held out his hand to Dr. Weber.

“I just remembered this, Doctor.”

It was the doctor’s tobacco pouch and pipe.

“Bless you, my boy. Missing my pipe was the worst torture I endured during my entire captivity.”

A shout came from the side of the yawl.

“You people up there still interested in a metal box?” It was the diver. “Think this could be it?”

The Hawaiian diver held an oblong object above his head. Biff leaned over the side and took it from his hands. It was encrusted with barnacles, bits of shell, and slimy green seaweed.

It was a metal box. Biff handed it to his father.

“Get a screwdriver, Biff. We’ll have to pry the lid open.”

Everyone watched tensely as Thomas Brewster worked the screwdriver under the lid of the box. A small lock held it shut. Finally, the lid sprang open. Inside was a loose, dust-like substance, hardened in spots where sea water had leaked in. There was also a damp piece of paper.

“This is it. It’s got to be. Take a look, Dr. Weber.”

The doctor dipped his hand in the box. He fingered the powdery substance. He nodded his head.

“I can’t tell how this will run yet. I will have to test it. But … well, I think we’ve really got something here.”

Thomas Brewster and Biff were pouring over the map.

“The field’s well marked. Won’t be any trouble locating it if this sample proves out to be high grade.”

The doctor was looking at the pilot.

“Young man, could you fly me back to Honolulu?”

“Sure. Only take an hour or so.”

“Well, Tom. I’d like to get back to my hotel. All my equipment is there. I can test this sample immediately. I want to. Is it all right with you, Henry, if I steal your plane and pilot?”

“Certainly, doctor. We’ll all go back to Hilo by boat.”

“Well then, when you get there, look for a message from me. I’ll have run my tests long before you can get back by boat. Then I’m off. I’m due at an international scientific convention in Switzerland early next week. I’ll have to leave Honolulu before you get back.”

The doctor shook hands all around. His last words to the group were:

“Thanks for my pipe, young man.”

Biff grinned in reply. It was hard to believe that this was the same old man who had been carried aboard not long ago.

The doctor boarded the plane, and in five minutes it was out of sight, winging its way to Hawaii.

Tom Brewster took the tiller of the Easy Action. Li was at the anchor winch, Biff at the mainmast, and Hank Mahenili at the mizzen.

“Hoist away,” Tom Brewster sang out as he felt the anchor pull free.

Sails rattled up their masts. The wind caught them, and the Easy Action was put on a course for Hilo.

It was a pleasant sail. Everyone was relaxed. There was little conversation. All were happy to loll about the deck, resting from their recent near escapes from violence and storm.

It was night by the time Mr. Brewster headed the yawl for a dock in Hilo Bay. The boat was tied up, and in half an hour, the party entered their hotel.

As good as his word, there was a message waiting from Dr. Weber.

“Sample proves out cesium in purest state discovered thus far in world. Looks like a sky-blue find.”

Tom Brewster handed the message to Biff. Biff read it and smiled at his father. “Why sky-blue, Dad?”

“Dr. Weber’s mild little joke. Cesium means ‘sky-blue’ because that is how it shows up on a spectrum test.”

The boy and his father stood silent for a moment, enjoying this moment of complete peace.

“Dad,” Biff said, “this was supposed to be a vacation for Mom and the twins. Can we still make it one for the whole family? Have them fly over here and explore this beautiful island?”

“Explore, Biff? Haven’t you had enough adventure for now? I’ll have them come over. But for the rest of our stay, it’s going to be nothing but fun and frolic. You agree?”

“Check, Dad. Check.”