  It was Perez Soto. The swarthy adventurer was standing on a lava ledge not far from the spot where Biff and Li had sighted the sunken hulk of the Sea Islander earlier in the day. Through his powerful binoculars, he had watched every movement the boys had made. He had seen Li’s first and second dives. His glasses were of such powerful magnification he could even see the exultant expressions on the boys’ faces. He knew they had made an important discovery, and he was certain what the discovery was. A crafty smile came over his heavy features as a plan formed in his scheming mind. He would go back to his hideout and get his henchman, Madeira. Then, quickly to his power boat, the Black Falcon, and head for the dot on the ocean where he had seen the boys. He had little thought for Dr. Weber. The thing to do now, and do it fast, was to get out to the sunken Sea Islander and stake his salvage claim. In the case of a lost boat, or a sunken one, it was “first come, first served.” The important thing, though, was not only to take the claim, but remain in possession of it. With his glasses still on the Easy Action, he saw one of the boys raising the anchor. He saw the yawl set a course toward Ka Lae, leaving the sunken sloop abandoned. Too bad about Dr. Weber. Maybe someone would find him, maybe they wouldn’t. Perez Soto didn’t care. All he wanted to do now was to establish his salvage rights, and do so in the shortest possible time. He stepped back from the ledge and started walking rapidly toward his hideout. Thomas Brewster and Hanale Mahenili watched with torn emotions as Perez Soto threatened and tormented Dr. Weber. Both men wanted to act. Both knew, however, that to do so would not only endanger the doctor’s life, but would also jeopardize their chances of rescuing the old man. The morning passed. Perez Soto continued his threats. But the old doctor held firm. He refused to answer any of his captor’s questions. Madeira, Perez Soto’s henchman, kept his snub-nosed revolver steadily pointed at the doctor. Brewster and Mahenili didn’t dare try to jump the kidnapers. About noontime, Perez Soto took the gun from Madeira. Madeira prepared some food by lighting a small fire and heating up some stew he took from a can. The smell of the steaming stew rising to the cliff where Brewster and Mahenili were hiding, sent sharp pangs of hunger rumbling through their stomachs. Shortly after Perez Soto and Madeira had eaten, Perez Soto, as if having an afterthought, poked a spoonful of food at the doctor’s mouth. The doctor turned his head away. “Look at that, Hank,” Brewster whispered. “I think the doctor wants to die. He’s refusing food.” “Perhaps he feels that death is preferable to any more of Perez Soto’s threats and demands.” About two o’clock, Perez Soto entered the cave which he was using for a hideout and emerged minutes later with a pair of binoculars slung over his shoulder. “Guard the old man well,” he ordered. “I’ll be back before sunset.” He strode off. Brewster whispered to Mahenili. “I think our chance will come now. We’ll let Perez Soto get well on his way, then we’ll find a way of jumping the guard.” The time came more quickly than either man could have hoped for. Madeira, his stomach filled with stew, could be seen to yawn. They saw him shake his head to ward off sleep. Apparently feeling that there was little threat of Dr. Weber’s attempting to escape, the guard checked the ropes binding the doctor’s hands and feet. He sat down nearby, propping his back against a large boulder, the gun in his hands. Brewster and Mahenili watched every move. They saw the guard’s head nod forward. They saw him bring it up with a jerk and shake his head from side to side in an effort to remain awake. They saw the process repeated. For the third time, the guard’s head dropped forward. This time, it stayed there. “Now’s our chance,” Brewster said to his friend. Mahenili nodded in the affirmative. Brewster measured the distance between himself and the sleeping guard. The drop from the ledge to the ground in front of the cave was a good fifteen feet. From where he would land, Brewster would still have to cross a clearing of ten feet before he could reach the guard. The noise of his landing would certainly arouse the guard. Before Brewster could cross the opening to close with him, the guard would have time to raise his pistol and fire. A plan shaped up in Thomas Brewster’s mind. “Hank, here’s how we’ll have to do it. You crawl back. Make your way to the rear of the guard if it’s possible. Creep up as near to him as you can. Keep me in sight. When you see me leap from this ledge, you spring forward. Try to take him from the rear. Hurl a rock at him, anything. Just try to give me enough time to leap across that clearing and grapple with the guard before he can fire. Once I get my hands on him, I can handle him.” “But if you can’t see me, Tom, how will you know when to leap?” “It’s now two-twenty-two. I’ll make my move at exactly two-thirty. I’ll just have to trust that you’ve been able to get behind the guard. Go along now, and good luck.” Brewster kept shifting his glance from the sleeping guard to the minute hand on his watch. It seemed that the large hand would never reach the half-hour mark. But it did. At exactly two-thirty, Brewster stood up. He jumped. He went to his knees and rolled when he hit the ground, fifteen feet beneath him. It was a fall he had learned in his army training, one designed to prevent a broken ankle. He leaped quickly to his feet. The guard, awakened, stood up. He was still groggy from sleep and confused. He could hear sounds from behind him, and here right in front of him, a large man was charging him. Brewster hit Madeira with a jolting right cross before the guard could think straight. He hit the ground with a thud. Brewster was on top of him like a hungry tiger making a kill. From the rear, Mahenili sprang into the arena, spotted the pistol still in the guard’s outstretched hand, and kicked it away. The fight was over. It had been an easy victory. In minutes, Dr. Weber was freed, and his bonds were used to truss up the guard. As an extra precaution, Brewster used his handkerchief to gag the guard. He didn’t want him calling for help. No telling how near Perez Soto might be. “Dr. Weber, my friend.” Brewster leaned over to help the doctor to his feet. “How are you? Are you injured in any way?” “Mostly my dignity,” the doctor grunted gruffly. “Are you able to walk? We must get away from here before Perez Soto returns.” “Hurrumph!” the good doctor hurrumphed indignantly. “You youngsters seem to think I’m an old dotard, dying on my feet.” Mr. Brewster had to smile at being called a youngster. But he was a good thirty years younger than Dr. Weber. “Of course I can walk!” The doctor took two steps, and would have fallen if Biff’s father hadn’t caught him. Dr. Weber glared up at his friend. “Release me. All I need is for the circulation to be restored to my legs. I’ve been tied up most of the time.” The doctor was stubborn. He gingerly raised one leg, then the other. He flapped his arms against his sides. He cautiously took another step, glancing out of the side of his eye to see if Tom Brewster was prepared to help him. The doctor’s vitality was amazing. Brewster got him some water. He forced him to take several mouthfuls of the stew, now cold, but energy giving nonetheless. “All right, now,” the doctor said. “You lead the way. I’ll follow.” Brewster started off on a path leading down to the coast. Before doing so, he signaled to Mr. Mahenili to stay close behind the doctor, ready to catch him if he should fall. Their progress downward was slow. Brewster halted every hundred yards, sometimes more often where the descent was difficult, to allow the doctor to regain his strength. Brewster knew Dr. Weber must be going along on sheer nervous energy. His frail body just wasn’t young enough to take such punishment. But Biff’s father knew also that it is amazing to just what great limits the human body can go when forced to do so. It was dusk when the three men stumbled onto the beach opposite the Easy Action’s first anchorage. Thomas Brewster looked out over the ocean, and his heart leaped with joy. He saw the yawl coming into its anchorage, Li in the bow, ready to drop the anchor, and Biff at the tiller. “Hi, Biff! Hi, Li!” he called. |
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