Twisted Tables
THE current had been kind to Hawk and the wind had helped to bring the wooden grating in toward the beach below the jagged mountains of Haiti. There he deserted his strange craft and stood looking to the right and left, undecided which direction to go to reach the camp his men must have made. All that remained of his diving suit was the twill covering, and this tended to keep the water against his body, making him cold in spite of the warm breeze from the east. Finally, he saw a pinpoint of light glowing on the side of a hill. He struck out, glad to have a destination.
He turned once and looked back at the sea. Far out on the dark water he saw the glimmer of anchor lights on Chuck Mercer’s steamer. Mercer’s crew would be picking up the survivors of the submarine by this time, and cursing Hawk Ridley roundly and with fervor. The thought made Hawk grin. He went on.
Then, out of a shrub’s cover, came the challenge “Halt, and advance slow!”
It was Dawson, the first mate. Hawk gave him a thin smile.
“Gone blind?” he said.
“Lord, Hawk! We thought you were dead!” the man cried.
“You pretty near guessed right. Where’s Vick?” Hawk shot the question as though it were a bullet.
Dawson stammered and then glanced back at Gregory, who was running up. Obviously the mate wanted the captain to answer the question.
Gregory’s boisterous greeting was cut short by Hawk.
“Where’s Vick?” he snapped.
“Why…you see…” Gregory began, not daring to look Hawk in the eye.
“I see!” snapped Hawk. “You let her go down in that self-contained suit to try to give me a hand. A fine lot of heroes you turned out to be!”
“I knew you’d get sore,” said Gregory defensively. “I tried to stop her, but I never dreamed the girl had such courage. She jumped over right where you went down!”
Hawk took a step back toward the beach, then stopped. “If they picked me up, they’ve got her. I’m going back to Mercer’s ship for her,” he said crisply.
“But what do you want me to do?” Gregory’s protest was almost a wail.
“Take whatever boats you’ve got and wait for me at the spot where the Stingaree went down. I’ll be there before the night’s over.” Hawk started toward the beach, but Gregory stopped him with a forceful hand.
“Wait a minute, Hawk!” cried the captain. “You’re crazy! What’s the idea dashing off after that girl and leaving us in the lurch? If she’s aboard Mercer’s ship, that’s where she wants to be. She’s in his pay, anyhow. Have some sense!”
Hawk shook him off. “I happen to be giving the orders here—you seem to forget that. I’ve got to get a diving suit and rescue that girl.”
“Grandstand stuff!” exclaimed Gregory, but Hawk’s voice cut in.
“Stand on and off with those boats!” he snapped. “I’ll take care of my end of it.” And swiftly he went out of the ring of men and back to the water he had so lately escaped.
Three boats were drawn up on the sand. Hawk lost but little time in launching the smallest and picking up the short oars. He was achingly tired, but in his excitement he failed to notice. He had only one thought: he must find Vick Stanton.
A half-hour later found Hawk rowing close to the Ocean Salvage steamer. Lights came across the quiet water in long, shimmering paths. He turned now and then to look at the ship and correct his course. And, with the thrill of approaching danger, his heart beat a little faster with every pull of the sweeps.
Caution was the essence of his approach, for if he was discovered too soon, it would all be over. But he did not expect that his move would be counted upon, and therein lay his advantage.
The bow of the cutter grated against the rusty side, close to a dangling line. Hawk secured his painter and began to climb up hand over hand to the silent deck.
It was dark, but he knew that he would be visible at close quarters, especially when he reached the glittering lights of the deck. Silently he pulled himself up, till he could see the well of the ship, where the halyard of his former torture swayed in the night breeze. He was about to drop down when a movement to the right caught his eye. A sentry stood there, half-asleep. Hawk watched him narrowly. Then he inched along the outside of the rail until he was within three feet of the guard.
His fist doubled, Hawk estimated the length of the swing, and then, without ceremony, sent a blow crashing to the fellow’s jaw. With a weary sigh, the sentry slumped down into the shadow of a bitt.
Hawk made his way up a ladder to a passage where cabin doors emitted cracks of light. An occasional snore reached his ears as he crept along, crouching before each keyhole to peer in.
He saw Chuck and Al Mercer sitting over a bottle, discussing some weighty matter in low tones. They seemed angry. Then he discovered the three officers he had left on the submarine, and was glad to know that the artificial lungs had permitted the undersea crew to escape from the trapped boat. Finally, he saw an arm over the side of a bunk and knew that he had found Vick Stanton. He tried the door cautiously and found that it was locked, then he went into a dark cabin and found the key in the door. Armed with this vital bit of brass, he went back to Vick’s cabin. The key fitted. He turned it and pushed the door wide.
Vick sat up, blinking at the disheveled apparition in her doorway.
“Vick!” whispered Hawk. “Are you all right? Has anything happened?”
Her whisper was vibrant with emotion. “You’re safe, then! Hawk!” Tears brimming in her eyes, she buried her face in the folds of his diving dress.
“Slip on a jacket,” Hawk said gently. “Do you know where they keep their diving outfits?”
She nodded, donned a coat, then stepped out into the passageway and silently led him down to the well deck. Lockers stood there, disgorging their contents in a disorderly fashion.
“Be careful, Hawk—they’ve got guards all around here.”
Stepping on top of a chest, Hawk turned out the bulb of the deck light. “I don’t think they’ll notice. Get into a suit, quick!”
For Hawk it was a simple matter. He had merely to add corselet, helmet, tank and weights. But Vick, shaking with excitement, had a much longer task to perform. Hawk helped her with the buckles and laces.
Then, carrying their thirty-two-pound shoes in their hands, and staggering under the weight of lead and copper, they made their way to the cutter’s moorings. Hawk brought the small boat down the rail to the Jacob’s ladder.
Just as Vick was going over the side a piercing cry rang out. Hawk turned and stared back through the window of his helmet. A scurrying body left the deck and plunged at him. He struck, and his assailant fell to the steel plates. But the warning had been given, and the entire ship came alive with shouting men.
“Into the boat!” shouted Hawk, forgetting that Vick couldn’t hear him. He saw, then, that she was already standing on the thwarts of the bobbing cutter, and he wasted no time in scuttling after her.
Above him the rail was lined with men. Then flame began to lash down into the cutter as shots flew after the escaping pair.
Then flame began to lash down into the cutter as shots flew after the escaping pair.
Vick loosened the painter and pushed away from the side of the steamer, then stumbled back to snatch at an oar. Hawk had already begun to pull the sweeps with all his might, but the suits were heavy and the cutter bobbed sluggishly.
Hawk looked up just in time to see a heavy object hurtle down from above. It was a lead weight, and Hawk groaned as he understood. They were heaving missiles at them in an attempt to sink the boat. He had no more than understood when he felt the cutter lurch, then saw water begin to rush up from the bottom of the craft. Vick had also seen, and they bent as one to strap on their diving shoes. Hawk adjusted his own valve and then gave Vick’s a twist. All about them bullets were kicking up small, vicious geysers in the dark water and sending phosphorescent streaks into the depths.
Holding the girl close to him with one hand and gripping a lamp with the other, Hawk plunged over the side and into the refuge of dark water.