The Black Cliff
Heavy seas broke against the rocky base of the island. Rick surveyed the cove they had chosen with some misgiving. The vinta wouldn't be safe if tied to shore. The breaking surf would batter it to bits before they could get back.
Scotty moved to his side. "Now what?"
"Swim," Rick said grimly. "Around that point looks like the most sheltered place, but it isn't good. The wind blows these waves halfway around the world, and they've got plenty of steam."
"Have to chance it," Scotty stated.
They maneuvered the cranky craft into the meager shelter of the point Rick had indicated, then dropped the stone anchor. It dragged along the bottom briefly, then caught in a cleft between two underwater rocks. It would hold unless the rope broke.
The boys took their belongings and bundled them in their clothes, along with shoes and weapons. Then, holding the bundles high with one hand, they slipped into the water. In a few moments the two were rubbing themselves dry and putting their clothes on again.
Rick tried the radio unit while they rested. "Rick to Zircon."
"Standing by, Rick. Where are you?"
"Ashore." He described the situation briefly.
"I should have thought of that," Zircon replied. "The eastern shore is to windward. You were bound to have surf. Are you all right?"
"Yes. We're starting out now. We'll talk to you from on top, if it's safe." He hung the little radio around his neck by its lanyard, and stood up. "Ready to climb Mount Everest, brother Scott?"
Scotty stared up at the slope of the volcano. "If you are, brother Brant."
Neither boy was an experienced mountaineer, but both knew the principles of operation. They roped together and started the long climb. It was easy at first. The slopes low down were not steep, and the broken lava gave plenty of hand and footholds. But as they reached a point Rick estimated to be about two hundred feet above the water, the slope steepened sharply.
"Rest a moment," Scotty suggested. "We'll last longer if we take a breather once in a while."
Rick knew Scotty was right, but he resented the need for sitting idly for even a few minutes. He used the five-minute rest period to report to Zircon that all was well.
Rick led the way again as soon as the luminous dial of his wrist watch showed that five minutes had elapsed. Twice he and Scotty were stalled for a brief time, but finally found a route and improved it by hammering the steel spikes in clefts in the rock. With the hammer padded, the sound was muffled to a point where it couldn't be heard more than a few feet away. The spikes could be used to belay their rope on the way down.
The last stage of the upward journey was to the top of the cone. It was nearly vertical, but wide cracks made it less difficult than some of the areas below. Scotty was leading now. He reached the top, then waited for Rick to join him.
Silently the two boys looked out over the dark sea, and Rick wished for a moment that he could see the view by daylight.
"Let's check the crater," Scotty suggested. He drew his flashlight, then inched forward across the rubble of the rim. Rick stayed beside him.
"Any danger of the beam being seen?" Scotty asked softly.
"No. The angle is wrong. If you keep it directed toward the crater, it will be invisible from the sea."
Rick watched as Scotty switched the light on. The pencil of light swept downward, and finally lost itself in nothingness.
The two boys stared at each other.
"The whole island's hollow!" Rick breathed. "I'll say this thing has a crater!"
"Plenty deep," Scotty agreed. "Well, that tears it. Nothing to do but go around. You lead the way."
Rick felt his way down until at last he was standing on the shoulder of the ancient volcano just below the final sweep upward to the crest. In a moment Scotty joined him. Slowly and carefully they started the long journey around, taking the southern slope as previously agreed.
It was hard going. In spots the lava was crumbly and gave under foot or hand. In others it was dense as steel slag.
When Rick estimated that over half the distance around the volcano had been covered he called Zircon and reported, then told the big scientist it would be their last contact for a while.
Within a hundred feet the lights of the village came in sight far below. The boys paused to survey the situation, and to examine the western part of the island. Most of it was visible from their vantage point. Only the cove where the vintas were kept and the section of village closest to the cliff were out of sight. Rick could see the beach clearly, and wondered if the guards were looking their way.
"Go carefully," Scotty whispered. "This is no time to start a landslide."
"Good advice," Rick whispered back. "But which way do we go now?"
"The slope to the left looks pretty good," Scotty answered softly. "We can cut back when we get down a little."
At the bottom of the slope, they found another drift that angled away toward the north. By the time they reached the bottom of it, Rick whispered that they must be directly above the cave. He could see the lighter path of the street that ran from below the shelf toward the western end of the island. Now all that remained was to make their way down to within reach of the scientists.
They moved with extreme caution, fearful that the slightest noise would give them away, or that a wrong step would start a rockslide. It was painful work, going down backward most of the way. Once they reached what seemed to be a dead end, and lay on their stomachs surveying a sheer wall nearly twelve feet high.
Rick solved the problem by finding a lava boulder big enough and stable enough to serve as a rope anchor. They took an extra length of line Scotty carried and made it fast, then went down the rope hand over hand.
The whole village was spread before them now. Rick could even see the cross street that ran below the base of the cliff, and he knew they must be nearly within sight of the shelf on which the scientists were imprisoned.
"Tough section below," Scotty whispered so low that Rick could barely hear him. "I think it drops off sheer."
Another dozen feet of slow progress proved that Scotty was right. There was a small shelf, then the slope dropped away abruptly. Both boys lay flat, and slowly inched up to the drop and looked over.
Rick felt Scotty's hand grip his arm like an iron clamp at the same moment that he realized that another shelf was directly below, a tiny campfire burning on it!
But that wasn't what Scotty had seen. At a point off to their right, and only slightly below them was a second, smaller shelf. On it sat a pirate guard, rifle across his knees, staring out to sea.
Rick swallowed his heart, which had climbed into his throat. They were in plain sight of the guard, or at least their heads were. He backed away as rapidly as the rough surface allowed, until the guard was no longer in sight. He and Scotty held a whispered exchange, their voices no louder than a zephyr.
"Keep your eyes off him," Rick said. "He may feel someone looking at him."
"Right. He's in a wonderful position. He looks down on the shelf where the fire is located. Did you see the ladder?"
Rick hadn't.
"It leads from his perch to the shelf. I suppose ladders lead down to the ground from there."
The guard was an obstacle Rick hadn't expected. He wondered if the guard on duty last night had seen him slug the pirate, and he decided it didn't make much difference. As Zircon had said, they had to assume the whole colony was alerted.
"Let's look out one at a time," he whispered. "I didn't see anyone on the ledge."
He inched forward once more and put his head over the edge of the drop. The fire on the rocky shelf was a small one, probably only a cooking fire. There wasn't anyone in sight. He guessed the scientists must be in a cave under the rock on which he crouched. He could only hope they were awake.
Rick estimated the situation. It was perhaps thirty feet down to the shelf. The guard was ten feet below, and twenty feet to his right. He noticed that the guard didn't look down at the shelf. He was awake, but his attention was focused outward. In all probability he was a lookout rather than a guard, watching for signs of ship movement to the west, the direction from which danger to the pirates might be expected to come.
The boy withdrew and joined Scotty. "No sign of anyone on the shelf. I'm going to lower the radio unit, anyway."
"Okay. Let's get the rod out."
Rick had carried the rod-section case on his back, tied to shoulders and belt with line. He untied the line swiftly and assembled the rod. Scotty helped him put the reel in place and feed the line through the guides. Then Rick carefully wrapped the radio unit in his handkerchief, and put the whole thing in a black denim ditty bag borrowed from Chahda for the purpose. He secured the drawstring of the ditty bag to the end of the fishing line and inched forward again. Scotty moved forward, too, his rifle unslung and ready for action.
Rick hadn't even bothered with a note. Both Shannon and Briotti would recognize the radio unit instantly. There were no others like it outside of Spindrift. They would immediately put it to use and be talking to Zircon before the two boys had moved away from the position over their heads.
Carefully Rick pushed the tip of the rod out far enough so the ditty bag would clear all obstructions on the way down, then he swung the bag clear and began to feed out the line.
The bag went down an inch at a time, while he concentrated on keeping the motion slow but steady. A sudden jerk might attract the guard's attention, but very slow motion probably wouldn't.
A sudden jerk would attract the guard's attention
He was sweating profusely by the time the bag got within reach of the shelf below. He began to worry. He had seen no one. Had the pirates removed the scientists, leaving the lookout in his usual position?
He kept the bag moving until suddenly strain went off the line and he knew it was down. He could see it in the faint glow from the fire, lying motion-less on the rock below. Long moments ticked by and he felt the trickle of sweat down his face, the sweat of apprehension. Why didn't someone show up?
And then, as though in answer to the frantic thought, a man stepped into view below, and casually dropped his coat over the ditty bag.
Rick almost sobbed with relief. Tony Briotti! The familiar crew cut had grown long, but it was Tony!
Swiftly the boy drew his knife and cut the line, letting the loose end tumble down. Then, careful of the fishing rod, he withdrew from the edge and touched Scotty to indicate he should withdraw, too.
For a few seconds they just lay there, weak with relief. Then Rick disassembled the rod and restowed it. Scotty reslung his rifle. On hands and knees, the two started their retreat. Not until they were certain that the guard could no longer see them did they stand upright and begin to move more rapidly.
Their mission was a success, but perhaps the plan was not. Rick was no longer filled with enthusiasm for his scheme. The guard had changed all that.
How were they going to get the scientists out with a guard watching them?