The Radio Detectives Under the Sea

by A. Hyatt Verrill

Touching Frank’s arm, Tom signaled for him to withdraw and as silently as they had come the two boys slipped down the bank, shoved their boat noiselessly into the water and crept into it.

With fast beating hearts they paddled towards the larger stream and had almost reached it, when, without warning, a flock of white ibis flapped up before them and with harsh croaks of alarm perched upon the topmost branches of the trees.

The boys’ blood seemed to freeze in their veins and their hearts to cease beating. Would the men suspect something or somebody was near? Would they sweep down on the boys?

Instantly, at the hoarse cries of the birds, the voices beyond the point had ceased and the boys knew the men were listening, straining their ears for a suspicious sound. To go on would be to court disaster. The least rattle of oars or squeal of rowlocks would be heard and even if no sound issued from the boat the slightest movement would again arouse the ibis overhead. There was nothing to do but wait, wait with panting, throbbing lungs and heart-racking fears for what might happen next.

But the boys did not have long to wait. From beyond the intervening bank came the rattle of an oar, a sharp, gruff order, the splash of water. The men were coming! To remain where they were meant capture! There was but one thing to be done and that was to turn and pull as fast as they were able into the small creek in the one faint hope that the others might pass it by and look for the cause of the birds’ fright upon the main stream. Quickly the boat was swung round and with deadly terror lending strength to their arms, the boys pulled frantically into the trees that formed an archway over the tiny waterway. But their ruse was in vain. The noise of the splashing oars had been heard. The disturbed water of the stream told the story of their flight to their enemies. Scarcely a score of yards had been covered when the boys heard the other boat following, heard the rough Slavic voices, and the frightened cries of the ibis. Madly they pulled and then, so close that the boys could not avoid it had they wished, the creek came to an abrupt end in a mass of foliage.

Before the boys knew it was there they had bumped into it. Frank’s hat was swept off by a branch, sharp twigs and thorns tore their flesh, the boat rocked and grated, and realizing they were trapped the boys screamed in terror. Then, ere they grasped what had happened, their boat had shot through the screen of branches, they were in open water and looking back they saw the fallen trees which had spanned the creek. Before them the stream turned sharply to one side. Only a dozen strokes of the oars would bring them to the bend. They had almost reached it when shouts and curses came from beyond the fallen trees, they heard a crashing of the branches, the sharp reports of revolvers rang out and bullets whistled past the boys’ heads.

The next moment the boat shot around the point and, driven to desperation, thinking only of outdistancing their pursuers, the boys rowed like mad, giving no heed to direction, no attention to their surroundings. Then they suddenly realized that the sounds of their pursuers had ceased, that there were no shouts, no splashing of oars, no rattle of wood on wood. What had happened? Why had the others abandoned the chase?

And then it dawned upon Frank.

“Gee Christopher!” he exclaimed under his breath, “that fallen tree saved us, Tom! Their big boat couldn’t get through. We’re safe!”

“Gosh, I guess you’re right!” whispered Tom while the two still continued to row. “But I’m not sure we’re safe. There may be another way in here and perhaps they’ve gone around to cut us off. Say, we’ve got to row like the dickens and try to get so far they won’t find us!”