EM EM : monthly magazine - 01.09.1941, Blaðsíða 32

32
Em Em
--weu, wnat are you gomg xo'aq
about it?”
“I’m going to blow open thati
safe and see what is in it—if any-!
thing.”
Hoffman chuckled. “I thought
you’d be wanting to do something
like that. Well, I’m all ready for
you. I’ve had my chief gunner's
mate fix you up a cartridge. Two
pounds of guncotton, wired with a
detonator. Had to rob one of our
war heads to get it for you.”
“Good. Let’s get under way.”
Half an hour later I slid down
the line to the foundered ship and
paused there a moment to get my
bearings. Not until then did I be-
gin to realize that the job ahead
of me was not going to be any pic-
nic. The purser’s oífice, with its
floating furniture, will be an ex-
cellent place to foul my lines, and
I was carrying four—my life line,
my air line and the two wires that
led respectively to my lamp and to
the charge of guncotton secured in
my belt.
Sliding over the rail, I gained
the passageway without difficulty.
Here I switched on my light and
the powerful glow illuminated the
corridor for six or eight feet
ahead. Walking on the bulkhead,
for the deck was practicaily ver-
tical, I gained the open door of the
office.
Several chairs, a desk and a
couple of tables were floating in
the water-filled room. Cautiously,
so as to stir up as little as possi-
ble the silt which had alreadý set-
tled in the room, I pushed them
out of the way. Shining my light
downward, I made out the safe. It
was in the far corner of the room,
lying on its side of the starboard
bulkhead.
Catching hold of the door cas-
ing, I pulled myself up and over
it and slipped into the room. I
paused as soon as I found a foot-
ing and looked back over my lines.
They seemed to be clear.
Crouching low to avoid ':he fur-
niture which floated above my
head, I moved a cautious step at a
time toward the safe. I reached
it at last and lowering my lamp,
examined it carefully.
The door of the safe, by a lucky
break, was uppermost. Removing
the shot of guncotton from my
belt, I bound it securely to the
docr hancile. Then I closed my air
valve and when the roar in my
ears ceased I called:
“On deck! Slack away on that
wire to the charge. Let out a
hundred feet or more so it will
sink to the bottom. I don’t want
to foul it when I start up.”
“Ave. a.ve sir. The eantnin
wants xo nnow ir everytnmg ls aii
right.”
“Everything is jake, tell him.
I’li be up as soon as I get clear
of this furniture.”
I opened my air valve again and
turned around. Making sure that
my lines were clear, I started to-
ward the doorway. At that in-
stant my light went out and I
found myself in utter darkness.
I told the world, with no one in
it able to hear me, just what I
thought of underwater lamps that
burned out at crucial moments.
However, my position might have
been worse. I had my bearings
well in mind and that was 90 per
cent of the battle.
Throwing the lamp to one side,
I tumed off my air. "On deck!
Haul in the lamp cord. It’s no
further use. Burned out on me.
Haul it in smartly and get it out
of my way.”
Opening the valve without wait-
ing for an answer, I started again
toward the door. I had covered
perhaps half the distance, feeling
each step of the way, when above
the roar of air in my ears I heard
my name called. Again I closed
the air valve to make conversa-
tion possible.
“What do you want?” I yelled.
“Leslie! Leslie! Leslie!”
“I’m getting you. What the
devil do you want?”
“Hoffman speaking, Ray. Did
you cut your lamp cord?”
“Cut my lamp cord? Certainly
not. Why should I cut it?”
“It’s been cut, Ray. The lamp
didn’t come up when we hauled in
the cord.”
“It fouled on something,” I said
shakily, conscious that my heart
was beginning to pound. “The
lamp broke off when you hauled
in.”
“It didn’t break off! It was cut,
I tell you!”
“But who the devil could—”
I stopped speaking. In the dead
jsilence that maintained when
jthere was no rush of air in my
tieart, I heard distinctly the slow
jclump - clump - clump of leaded
bhoes on the side of the ship above
tny head. My skin began to creep
jand I felt my heart sink into the
þit of my stomach.
“My God, Diek!” I shouted.
“There's another diver down
here!” -
' “Another diver! It's impossible.
:Unless—”
; “You suggested it," I said swift-
|ly. “I’m on my way. Do what you
Jcan.”
i I turned on the air and started
)to get out of there.
Thera was little doubt in mv
jmma as to wnax naa xaKeri pnrcv.
The Juarto had sent down her div-
ier, probably on the side of the
|gunboat away from the Whipple
uo that his movements would be
screened by the ship’s superstruc-
ture. Captain Huertas was taking
his own measures to prevent the
recovery of the Alderbaron’s treas-
ure.
Disregarding the menaee of the
floating furniture, ignoring the
possibility of fouling my lines, I
dove through the darkness toward
the doorway, praying I had not
lost my bearings. Chair legs
knocked against my helmet.
Again I struck something solid,
probably the heavy desk, and
slipped to my knees.
I was up again in a hurry, hands
outstretched, groping for the door
frame. I found it at last, pulled
myself over it and out into the
passageway. The doorway was
probably 10 feet from the open
deck. I covered that 10 feet
through the water as fast as the
average man would cover it on
land.
Once outside, I jerked my hel-
met back and looked up. Fifteen
feet away and almost directly
above me, hanging over the ship’s
rail, I made out the gargoyle-like
figure of another diver. In one
hand he held a knife with which
he was sawing away on my air
hose.
For an instant I was complete-
ly petrified. Then angry blood be-
gan to course through my veins.
Reaching up, I grasped my air line
and gave a sharp tug. The diver
above, caught unawares, let go of
the line and toppled off the rail al-
most into my arms.
I tried to leap to one side, well
knowing what a single slash of
that knife would do to a diver’s
suit. Hampered as I was by the
water, I could not get clear.
The other man’s heavy shoe
struck me on the shoulder, threw
me off balance. Almost side by
side, fighting for a handhold and
tangled in our lines, we rolled
down the slippery deck and into
the soft ooze in which the Alder-
baron lay partially buried.
CHAPTER VIII
I .ianded on my back in the mud.
W hippirg my knife out of its
sheath, I rolled over and struggled
to my feet. I was in utter dark-
ness, for the black ooze had been
stirred up to such an extent that
the water wás absolutely opaque.
I might have been standing in a
sea of ink.