Part 10 (2/2)
Teroa girl, had been deteriorating. Jenny would probably have failed to come out several times if the possibility of Maeta's discovering the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p in her absence had not occurred to her.
They had another paddle, as Mrs. Seever had been helping for most of the week, but the work was getting more exhausting for the diver all the time. The detector could not be left unchecked for more than a very few minutes at a time; the bottom was so irregular that it was likely either to get tangled in coral or be so far from the mud as to be ineffective.
Consequently, when the strong signal came and had been carefully verified, they decided to stop and buoy the area and then, though it was still early in the afternoon, bring the canoe back to North Beach and get word to Bob and the Hunter. Jenny also mentioned the chance to fix her own kayak at last.
Part way down the road, she discovered that the brake of her bicycle was not working. It was a minor inconvenience, since the road was fairly level, but it caused all of them to think.
The group broke up at the Seever home-hospital. Mrs. Seever stayed there, Jenny went to the beach where her kayak was lying, and Maeta went out the causeway to the refinery to report to Bob and the Hunter. She found them easily enough, since no fuss was made about adults' going anywhere on the island, and her presence gave the two a strong suspicion why she was there; but there were too many people around for her to report details. It was nearly two hours before Bob could leave his station and walk back to the sh.o.r.e with her and hear the full report. She gave it as soon as they were more or less out of hearing from the group.
”There's a place about thirty-five feet long and ten wide where the detector buzzes when it's within a foot of the bottom,” she started. ”That's at the edges. It sounds off two or three feet up when it's near the center of the area.”
”That sounds good,” the Hunter answered through Bob. ”The s.h.i.+p I was chasing was about twenty-five of your feet long and four in diameter-much larger than my own.”
”It could also be one of those midget j.a.panese subs from the big war,” Bob pointed out. ”I never heard of their operating in this area, though. Old Toke has always said that his own secrecy measures back in the thirties, arranging for wrong 'corrections' to maritime charts and that sort of thing, kept them from sending a task force here to get the oil source. I'd doubt it myself. I know the published charts don't show Ell but I'd be very surprised if the navy of any major nation didn't know about the place. I just don't think we were a big enough target early in World War II handy as we were for our own folks. Anyway, even if a sub is a possibility, this has to be checked out. Thanks a lot, Mae.”
”There won't be time today,” Maeta pointed out,
nodding toward the low sun. ”It'll be dark almost as soon as we could get out there.”
”That's all right. I'm off tomorrow anyway,” Bob said happily. ”We'll let the Hunter down to feel it over and make sure, and then-well, he can tell us what sort of sign or note to make and leave down there for his people when they come back. Maybe he'll even be able to tell us when they're likely to come.”
”You're very sure of that, aren't you, Bob?” the girl said softly.
”Of course. We're sure they've been here, from what happened to that generator s.h.i.+eld you found.”
”Couldn't the other one-the one the Hunter was chasing years ago-have done that?”
”You mean if the doc's right and he wasn't killed after all? I suppose so, but why should he?”
”Why should anyone else? The doctor asked that, and I don't think you gave him much of an answer. I agree with him that it's a very weak spot in your whole picture.”
”Well, I agree with the Hunter. He knows his own people best, and who am I to argue with him? I feel like celebrating.”
”You mean you will feel like celebrating if what we've found actually turns out to be one of the s.h.i.+ps.”
”Yes, of course. Right now, though, I just feel certain that it will be-it must be-and it's a darned good feeling.”
”I can believe it must be. I just hope I never hear you say, in a belittling sort of tone, that wishful thinking is a feminine trait I wish I could feel as sure as you seem to.”
”The Hunter calls it a human trait. Why not be human, Mae?”
In spite of the slightly pejorative remark which had just been attributed to him, the Hunter was sharing his host's feeling at the moment. He, too, felt un-reasonably sure that the object the girls had found would turn out to be one of the s.h.i.+ps. He knew that there was an excellent chance that it was something else shed by Earth's metal-wasting culture, but fully expected, to be feeling around inside a more or less damaged faster-than-light flyer in another thirteen or fourteen hours.
As they reached the sh.o.r.e end of the causeway, Bob looked off to his right along the beach. Jenny's kayak was lying bottom up where it had been for several days, two or three hundred yards from where he and Maeta stood, but the owner was nowhere in sight. Many other craft were on the lagoon, though most were heading for sh.o.r.e, dock, or anchorage as the sun sank.
”Maybe she's finished already,” Maeta answered the unuttered question. ”She's had a couple of hours, and it was just a matter of cementing a patch.”
”Likely enough,” Bob admitted. Maeta had not mentioned Jenny's brake trouble, and it had not occurred to her that anything else was likely to happen to the younger girl. Bob, so far, had seemed to be the princ.i.p.al target, if anyone was really shooting.
Maeta, therefore, had forgotten about the brake, and failed to mention it as they walked. The three of them had another few hundred yards of calm as they strolled toward the Seever home.
It evaporated at the door, where Jenny's mother met them.
”I thought you weren't coming at all!” she exclaimed. ”I suppose you just got away from your work, Bob. Look, you're both to go to Jenny's boat, Ben says, and look very carefully for something sharp. We want to find out what it was.”
Bob and Maeta started to ask the obvious questions together, but the woman held up her hand to stem them.
”I'm sorry; I know that's out of order. I'm upset. Just as Jenny got to her boat an hour or so ago-she stopped here for a while first-she stepped on something in the sand that cut her right foot, just behind the base of the big toe, all the way to the bone. Her father is still sewing tendons together. A couple of young people brought her home, but she's lost a lot of blood and hasn't been able to tell us much. Ben and I want to know what she stepped on.
So do you. It isn't as
though this was the States, paved with broken bottles; this is a civilized community.”
”Will she be all right?” asked Bob, and ”Did she lose too much blood?” was Maeta's more specific inquiry.
”Yes to you, Bob, and I don't think so, Mae. You two get down there and find out what she stepped on, please.”
Neither of them argued. They headed straight toward the beach, short-cutting the road but of course avoiding gardens. There were large spots of blood along the faint path which they followed; Jenny had evidently been helped home this way.
The beach was well peopled, though the sun was almost down.
Most of the boats were now ash.o.r.e or at anchor. No one, however, seemed aware of Jenny's accident; at least there was no crowd around her canoe, and no excited cl.u.s.ters of people. It was a perfectly ordinary Ell Sat.u.r.day just before suppertime.
Bob and Maeta were adequately shod, so they did not hesitate to approach the kayak. The sand a yard or so from its near side was blood-caked, and this seemed a reasonable place to start looking. With a brief, ”On the job, Hunter, and skip the speeches,”
Bob knelt beside the brown patch and began scooping sand away from it. The Hunter had to admit that his host was working with reasonable caution, considering the circ.u.mstances, so he said nothing and got on the job -ready to take care of things if Bob found the thing they wanted the hard way.
After a minute or two, with the immediate site of the stain excavated to a depth of six or eight inches Maeta began to dig as well. After disposing of Bob's objections, which sounded very much like those the Hunter used on Bob himself when he felt his host was being careless, she started along the side of the boat and searched for a couple of feet in either direction from the spot on the boat which had obviously been prepared to take a patch.
Then she began working out toward Bob. Unfortunately they had not come very close to meeting when the sun set.
”We'll have to try again in the morning,” Bob said, straightening up with an effort. ”I wonder when we can get out to check the s.h.i.+p or whatever you found?”
”Stay here,” was Maeta's injunction. ”I'll go home and get a light, our place is closer than the doctor's.”
”You think it's worth the trouble? No one else is likely to get hurt before morning.”
”Yes, it is,” the girl said firmly. The Hunter, a little surprised at Bob's obtuseness, added, ”Of course it is, Bob. Remember your bike trip-wire. We must either find what she stepped on, or make certain that it's gone.” Maeta had disappeared by the time this sentence was completed, but Bob answered aloud anyway. ”Oh, of course. I hadn't thought of that. I guess I was expecting to be the only victim, if there was anything to that idea. If this really wasn't an accident-I suppose that's what Jenny's mother was talking about-where do you suppose they'd hide it?”
”Close to the boat, where anyone working on the patch would be most nicely to step on it,” the Hunter answered rather impatiently.
”Oh-then that's why Mae started digging where she did.”
”I would a.s.sume so.” The alien restrained himself with a slight effort; after all, his host was not completely as he should be and in any case had freely admitted that he was not always quick on the uptake.
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