Part 21 (1/2)

”No? He is getting away with it, Senor Rick. We have a dozen policemen; he has the army. He also has his own men, at key points. So what can we do? We haven't enough force to fight. Besides, there is no time. We can't arm the people because we have neither weapons nor time.”

”But what can we do?” Scotty demanded.

”I do not know. At least we can continue our efforts to get the people off the island. Without the ability to make scientific readings, we cannot know how much time is left, so we must hurry. We will do the best we can. After that--well, you had a Spanish song in America that says it well. You recall the t.i.tle? '_Que sera sera._'”

Rick remembered. An expression of fatalism. What will be, will be.

CHAPTER XVI

The Brant Approach

The magma drove upward, melting its way through the fractured rock of the channels under the western side of the island. Now and then it struck rock with a higher water content, and the island shuddered under a new explosion as the steam expanded.

Rick felt the bed shake under him and sat upright. A new day had dawned, and there was much to do. He and Scotty had volunteered to help Captain Ricardo Montoya plan the evacuation of the island, and the youthful officer had accepted with pleasure. He had agreed to meet them for breakfast.

The scientists had worked late, trying to extrapolate their data into some kind of prediction. Rick and Scotty, tired after an exhausting day, had gone to bed while the light still burned in Hartson Brant's room.

Scotty awoke as Rick's feet hit the floor. ”I'm getting used to these little earthquakes,” he said. ”Don't know if I'll be able to sleep on steady ground after this.”

”The ground is going to get unsteadier,” Rick reminded. ”Until--boom!”

”I'm not forgetting,” Scotty said grimly. ”Let's get dressed and eat.

I'm famished.”

”It's ham and eggs for me,” Rick told him. ”If I had to watch milk slosh around in a cereal bowl I'd get seasick.”

The boys dressed rapidly and hurried down to the hotel coffee shop. They were just in time. Ricardo Montoya walked in just as they were seated.

The officer joined them. Rick noted that his face was drawn and tired, and thought Montoya had probably been up a good part of the night.

”How's the evacuation going?” Rick asked.

Montoya shook his head. ”Poorly. My uncle's radio broadcast continued all night and through the morning hours. A few families have come to the harbor, and the stevedores are organized now to get them aboard s.h.i.+p. A few fis.h.i.+ng boats have come, with fishermen's families, but there is no big exodus.”

”Don't they realize the danger?” Scotty exclaimed.

”Perhaps. You must understand my people. They have lived with earthquakes all their lives. Not so often, perhaps, but these temblors are not unusual. What is there to be excited about? Who believes El Viejo will explode? It never has, so it never will.”

Rick thought it over. ”Maybe not enough are hearing the broadcasts.”

”That is possible. I have put volunteers to work going from house to house, asking people to turn on their radios to hear the governor, and also to explain the urgency. But it will take a long time, even in Calor.”

”If we only had the troops,” Rick said thoughtfully. ”Trained manpower is what's needed for a job like this.”

”True. And I think if my uncle could only talk to the troops they would believe him. But he cannot reach them. Guevara's peons would never let him by.”

The hotel loud-speaker system drowned out his last words as a soft feminine voice paged someone in Spanish.

”If only the troops could listen to the radio,” Rick commented. ”Perhaps they'd believe him and turn on Guevara.”