CHAPTER III
The Shadow
The two scientists had been walking ahead of Rick and Scotty, butZircon's keen ears had overheard the boys' remarks. However, he was toowise to make his interest obvious. He waited until the group passed astore with a large display, then stopped, as though to examine it.
Rick found himself surveying a collection of tools for thedo-it-yourself addict.
"What's this about Steve and a tail?" Zircon asked. He pointed at apower-drill set, as though discussing it. His normally loud voicecouldn't have been heard five feet away.
Rick shook his head, then pointed at a different drill set. Anyonewatching would have thought the tools were the subject of conversation.Rick quickly outlined what had happened and concluded, "Scotty spotted atail on us a few minutes ago. Same guy?"
Scotty bent down for a closer look at a series of wood power bits. Hisvoice was scarcely audible. "Not the same one. This one is a VirginIslander. Looks like a farmer. When we stopped he walked right on by.He's out of sight now. But he'll pick us up as soon as we start."
Tony Briotti, to whom this kind of adventure was new, asked, "What do wedo about it?"
"Nothing," Zircon answered. "Steve Ames wanted to get rid of his shadowand the boys helped him out. But we have no particular reason forwanting to get rid of ours. Let him follow. Undoubtedly whoever istailing Steve got interested when they saw him talking with the boys,but they'll learn nothing by trailing us."
"And it's one less for Steve to contend with," Rick added.
Scotty straightened up. "I have to admit this bunch of tools isbeginning to bore me a little. Where are we going?"
Zircon shrugged. "I have nothing in mind. We might check in at thehotel."
"I'd rather swim," Rick said.
"Same here." Scotty made a quick survey of the street without seeming todo so. "No sign of our friend. He's probably in another doorway."
"Then Hobart and I might as well check in," Tony suggested. "I'd like aswim, but frankly I'm a little sleepy from too much lunch."
"How about checking in for us?" Rick asked. "Then we could get rightinto the water. No need for all of us to go to the hotel."
The scientists agreed, and at Scotty's suggestion hailed a taxi. As thecar rolled off toward the boat where their luggage was stored, Scottygrinned. "This was the only taxi in sight. Wonder how our friend willmanage to follow us?"
He had his answer at the pier. While Zircon was piling their overnightbags into the taxi, a farmer rode past on a bicycle. He didn't look atthem. "There he goes," Scotty said. "Pretty easy after all. Guess thetown is small enough so he wasn't worried about finding us."
"We'll give him a choice to make when Tony and I leave." Zircon smiled."Let's see whether he stays with you, or follows us."
Not until the boys had changed to swimming trunks in the cabin of the_Water Witch_ did they find the answer to Zircon's question. The shadowhad decided to stay with them. This time it was Rick who spotted him.The shadow was nearly hidden beyond a curve in the shore line. To anyonenot aware of being tailed, he would have appeared to be with any of theother casual figures that went unhurriedly about their business in theneighborhood. If Scotty hadn't pointed him out, Rick would not havesuspected that the shadow had the slightest interest in the Spindriftparty.
"We going to rig the aqualungs?" Scotty asked.
"Let's not bother. Masks, snorkels, and fins. We can swim out and take alook at some of the coral heads."
"How about a gun?"
Rick considered. "I guess not. We don't want to do any hunting. But youmight take a hand spear in case something real inviting shows up. Andlet's take our knives." He had also decided against taking his camera. Aleisurely, unencumbered swim was what he wanted. There would be timeenough for hunting fish or taking pictures later, when they got toClipper Cay.
While Scotty went into the cabin to select a spear from their assortmentof fishing gear, Rick surveyed the _Water Witch_ with satisfaction. Itwas a thirty-five-foot craft with a small cabin forward and a spaciouscockpit aft. It had been used as a diving tender before, apparently,because there was a ladder that could be swung outboard for a diver touse. There was also a small boom that could be rigged quickly forlowering or lifting gear from the water.
The gas tanks were ample for their purposes. One filling would be morethan sufficient for a round trip to Clipper Cay plus any cruising theywould do while at the island. The tanks were full.
Water capacity, an important consideration on waterless Clipper Cay, wasmore than adequate. In addition to a built-in fifty-gallon tank in thecabin, there was a rack of five ten-gallon jerry cans in the cockpit.
Scotty emerged from the cabin with a short, low-powered spring gun."Thought I might as well bring a light gun," he said. "It's just as easyto carry as a spear."
"Okay." Rick led the way down the pier to the beach, carrying his mask,snorkel, and slippers. These he placed carefully on one of the SkyWagon's pontoons, in order to protect the clear glass of his mask fromany possible scratching. Then, with a yell to Scotty to hurry, hebounded through the shallows, threw himself forward, and planed alongthe surface of the water. Lifting his head for a quick breath, he doveunder, feeling the wonderful coolness of the water close over him. Hejudged its temperature quickly. It was close to eighty degrees, heestimated, and cool only by comparison with the warm air.
He reversed course quickly and stood up. Scotty was also in the water.
"I'm glad we didn't bother with suits," Rick said. "In water like thiswe'd even be too warm in midseason suits."
Because of the coldness of the water off the New Jersey coast, the boyshad equipped themselves with full, waterproof rubber suits under whichlong under-wear was worn, and with lighter "midseason" suits of foamneoprene. Because of the reported warmth of water in the Virgin Islandsthey hadn't added the suits to their already heavy load of supplies.
They returned to the beach, picked up their equipment, and took it intothe water. Rick sat down and rinsed out his flippers, then carefullyremoved the last traces of sand from his feet. He pulled the flipperson, adjusting them for maximum comfort. His face mask was next. He spatinto it, then rubbed the saliva over the glass. This ratherunsanitary-appearing trick was essential, since saliva is an excellentantifogging compound needed to help keep the glass clear underwater.Then he rinsed his mask lightly and adjusted the head straps, leavingthe mask on his forehead.
The snorkels used by the boys were plastic tubes curved at both ends. Atone end was a mouthpiece; at the other was a cage that held a rubberball. A dive or rough wave action floated the ball upward, closing thetube and preventing water entry. Rick and Scotty adjusted the rubberbands of their snorkels around their heads above the mask straps.
Scotty was ready. He slipped his mask into place, molded the soft rubberskirt of the mask to the contours of his face, inhaled through his noseto make sure the seal was airtight, then called, "Let's go!" He grippedthe mouthpiece of his snorkel between his teeth, the rubber flange underhis lips, and slid into the water.
Rick was right behind him. As his mask touched water he saw the whitecoral sand of the bottom a few inches down. The only sign of life was ahermit crab, perhaps a half inch in length, dragging his home of themoment--a tiny spiral shell.
In one hand, Scotty carried the spear gun by its pistol grip. He swam inthe position that suited him best, both arms hanging limply down. Rick,on the other hand, preferred to swim with arms relaxed along his sides,as long as his hands were empty. When carrying a spear gun or hiscamera, he also swam with arms hanging downward. Neither boy used hisarms for swimming. The rhythmic, powerful leg strokes were enough,thanks to the swim fins.
The water deepened rapidly but lost none of its clarity. Even at a depthof a dozen feet, Rick thought, he could have counted every grain ofsand. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. At home,visibility of five feet was considered good. Lost in the enjoyment ofreally clear water, he completely forgot about the shadow.
> Scotty reminded him. He touched Rick's arm and signaled a stop. The boysremoved their snorkel mouthpieces and faced each other upright in thewater, holding position with easy flipper movements.
"Just pretend we're talking," Scotty said. "Don't look around. I'mtrying to spot our friend over your shoulder." After a moment he shookhis head. "No sign. Wonder if he ran for a bathing suit?"
"Forget him. Let's swim. See any coral heads?"
"Darker water off yonder. Let's look."
They readjusted their snorkels and headed in the direction Scotty hadindicated.
Rick breathed easily through his tube, constantly scanning the bottom.Now and then he saw various kinds of debris on the bottom, includingabandoned beer cans and a section of newspaper that had not yet rottedaway. Rubbish like this was to be expected in a harbor, he supposed,still it was as unattractive to a swimmer as junk along the roadside isto the motorist.
Suddenly he noticed a fish--the first he had seen. He took a deep breathand dove by letting his head drop and then lifting his legs to a nearlyvertical position. He slid underwater without a splash. When his finswere below the surface he started his leg motion again, and the flipperspropelled him smoothly downward.
The fish was perhaps a foot long, silvery, with a pointed nose andyellow fins. Rick couldn't identify it. The fish was busily rooting inthe sand for morsels of food and paid no attention to the diver untilRick reached out and almost touched it, then it sped just beyond reachand commenced rooting again.
His curiosity satisfied for the moment, Rick surfaced and rejoinedScotty. As he took position at his friend's side, the other boy hootedonce, their signal for "attention." The hooting was done by making akind of "hooty" groan into the snorkel mouthpiece, about the only soundthat could be made without letting water pass the lips. Because waterconducted sound so well, the hoot could be heard clearly some distanceaway.
Rick lifted his face from the water and saw that Scotty was pointing toan area a short distance to their right. He followed Scotty's lead andsaw the reason for the signal. It was a rocky, coral-covered area aboutthirty feet square and perhaps fifteen feet below the surface.
The boys swam directly over it, then floated motionless, watching theactivity below. At first glance, there appeared to be only a pair ofodd-shaped file-fish nibbling at the formation, but as their visionadjusted they made out literally dozens of tiny, colorful fish inclefts, under overhangs, or waiting motionless against a patch of coloron the rocks. Rick pointed to a school of about ten vivid little fish ofelectric-blue color. The largest was less than two inches long. Scottyhooted for attention and pointed in his turn to a section of the rockthat held over a dozen sea urchins that looked like black horsechestnuts with exaggerated spines.
Rick watched a pair of brown doctorfish about eight inches long swim bybelow, then his attention was attracted by a brilliant red squirrelfishpeering out of a cleft. He pointed the red fish out to Scotty, who inturn showed him where a little moray was peering out of a hole near thebase of the rock.
Rick was fascinated. If a tiny patch of rock held this amount of life,what must the real reefs be like off Clipper Cay? He was suddenlyimpatient to get going, to put on his aqualung and explore the reef fromtop to bottom. And if they should really find the wreck of the _MaidenHand_, there was every chance that the exploration of the wreck and thesea life it had acquired would more than compensate for the treasurenone of them really hoped to find anyway. What a vacation!
He was suddenly conscious of a throb in his ears. He listened and triedto identify it. A motorboat of some kind, but it didn't sound like avery powerful one. He lifted his head and searched for it.
Scotty, too, had heard the boat. He began to tread water, lifting hismask, then rinsing it because it had fogged a little.
Rick spotted the boat. It looked like a large row-boat, powered with anoutboard motor, and it was headed in their direction.
Scotty took his snorkel out of his mouth. "Better stay topside andwatch. We don't want to start our vacation by getting run over."
"Too true," Rick said. "Isn't this great? I've never seen so many kindsof small fish in one place in my life. Wait until we get out to thereefs where the big ones are."
Scotty patted his spear gun. "I'll keep us supplied with fresh sea food.Wonder if there are any lobsters around?"
But Rick had stopped listening. "Scotty, that guy is heading right forus!"
The boat was getting close, and through his face plate Rick could makeout the figure of a single occupant.
Scotty suddenly gripped his arm. "Rick! It's our shadow!"
Rick started. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I don't like this. What would he come out here for? Get ready todive." Scotty pulled his mask into place and molded it to his face, thengripped his snorkel between his teeth.
Rick followed suit and leveled off in the water in diving position, buthe hesitated, waiting to see what the boat would do.
It didn't take long to find out. The boat stayed on a perfectly straightcourse, headed directly for them. Rick waited. Perhaps the shadowintended to sheer off when he got close. He might have come out to talkwith them.
Scotty hooted four times, their signal for danger! Then he went under.Still Rick hesitated, until it was clear that the boat did not intend toswerve. He saw the shadow's face, set in grim lines, then his legs wentup and he slid under, using his hands as well as his legs to pullhimself down to safety. He thought incredulously, "He tried to run usdown!"
A dozen feet under he turned over on his back and saw the bright circleof the propeller and its trail of foam. The boat was past. He shot tothe surface and filled his lungs with air, waiting for the next move.
The boat spun around in a tight turn and headed back.
Scotty surfaced next to Rick, pulled the snorkel from his mouth, andgritted, "Swim away. Let him use you for a target. I'm going to get thatson of a spiny sea walrus."
Rick saw from the position of the spear in Scotty's gun that his friendhad charged the weapon during the dive. He nodded, then turned and swamaway, flippers flailing as though trying to hurry. He watched over hisshoulder and saw the boat head for him.
He was breathing hard from the excitement now, but he took a deep breathand got ready to dive. But still he swam, leading the rapidly overtakingboat until it was almost on him. Only then did he shoot downward,twisting as he went. He looked back in time to see Scotty sight thespear gun and fire as the boat went past.
At first Rick thought his pal had missed, then he realized what Scottyhad done. The spear shaft was attached to a long wire leader, and theleader to a safety line coiled around a spool just ahead of the pistolgrip. Scotty had deliberately fired ahead of the propeller, knowing thatthe wire leader would be caught and would wrap around the shaft.
Rick saw the spear stop short as the wire caught, saw it hauled backagainst the propeller and drop free as the prop blades cut it loose.Scotty shot up for a breath, then dove instantly, toward the rapidlyfalling spear.
Rick had to breathe himself. He surfaced, caught a quick breath, thenwent under again. Scotty was picking up the spear. Rick saw him place itin the gun barrel, swing the loader over the razor-sharp harpoon head,and shove down on the spring. In a moment the gun was loaded again.Luckily the spear had not bent when the prop blade hit it.
The boat had come to a halt, the engine dead. The propeller could nolonger turn against the wrapping of wire and heavy fishline. Scottyhooted twice, their signal to surface, and Rick followed him up. Nearthe surface they separated, Rick taking the side of the boat away fromhis friend. He longed for a weapon, even a hand spear. But he washelpless. Scotty would have to get in the first blow with the gun. But,Rick thought, that might give him time to get over the gunwale tograpple with the shadow.
His head broke water. He pulled the snorkel from his mouth and let ithang. As luck would have it, the shadow saw him first. He stood up, oarin hands, poised for a swing at Rick's head.
Scotty's voice stopped the swing.
"Don't do it or you'll get three feetof steel through you!"
The man turned and faced the needle point of Scotty's spear. The oardropped from his hands.
Rick gulped his relief. Apparently the shadow had no weapon.
"Jump overboard!" Scotty ordered.
The man hesitated. Scotty thrust the spear gun forward. "Jump, I said!"
The shadow did, and sank in a flurry of bubbles. When he rose to thesurface again, the point of the spear was against his back. "Hang on tothe boat with both hands," Scotty directed.
Rick got to his side with a kick of the flippers and ran his hands overthe man's clothing. He found a switch knife, which he put in his belt."He's clean," he said. "No other weapons."
"Take a look in the boat," Scotty suggested.
Rick did so, lifting himself up on the gunwale. There was nothing in theboat but oars and a can of gasoline.
"Want to tell us why you tried to run us down?" Rick asked.
The shadow merely stared.
"Talk," Scotty ordered, "or I'll put this spear through you."
The man spoke, and his accent was the soft speech of the island. "No,you won't. I could explain running down swimmers by accident, but youcould never explain putting a spear through a man in a boat. You don'twant that kind of trouble."
Scotty grinned at the truth of it. "Okay," he said. "Just one thing.Don't push us too far. Stay in the water until we're ashore, and don'ttry to overtake us."
"Better heed that advice," Rick warned. "Come on, Scotty. Let's go." Heput his snorkel in place.
Scotty moved to his side. "Welcome to the hospitable waters of St.Thomas," he said. "What say we look up some friendly sharks before we goashore?"