This present story belongs with Beemis' planet adventure yarns. It was in the winter months of 1929 that Arthur Wright Beemis penned the first of his many scientifiction novels. In an era when space travel was little known or speculated on Beemis had his likeable two-fisted hero, Hyacinth Robinson, travel between planets with ease. Hyacinth Robinson, as you may remember, had been standing too near a reservoir in upstate New York and when the water evaporated he went with it, eventually drifting to Venus where most of Vandals Of Venus takes place. This story was an instant hit and was soon followed by Vagrants of Venus, Mermen Of Mars, Misfits Of The Moon, Plundered On Pluto and many more.
Now that many of Beemis' books are freely available it was felt by his estate that his unfinished work should also be given to the public. So here is the new Beemis we have all been waiting for.
Chapter 1: A Minor Cataclysm
My heart was heavy as I drifted over the remote reaches of the Pacific Ocean in the atomic powered Zeppelin the World League of Peaceful Governments had thoughtfully allowed me to borrow in order to show their gratitude for my having ended the 4th World War several weeks ahead of time with my lucky discovery of a powerful ray that made gun powder ineffectual. This balloon cruise, as pleasant as it was, had been planned as more than just a dedicated scientific attempt to map the migratory routes of the Arctic Curlew. It was to have been, too, my wedding journey.
As I followed, with my binoculars, the happily paired curlews flapping to warmer climes I tried to think of some reason for the unpleasant turn events had taken. When I had called for my beloved Joanna on the prior morning her father, the noted munitions tycoon, John Plunderbund Brimstone, had left, not his best wishes for a safe honeymoon but, rather, orders for myself and my Zeppelin to be thrown unceremoniously from the grounds. All my leaden heart could be sure of was that I would never again walk hand in hand with the handsomest, most athletic and yet feminine, girl in the state of New Jersey. The thought of what I was doing would have brought tears to my eyes had I not been as masculine and manly as I am. For the curlew was the one bird that my Joanna and I had always thought of as our bird.
But the rapid deflation of my Zeppelin vanquished all self pity from my mind. I was galvanized into action. Placing my binoculars back in their case, I dived without further thought from the gondola of the falling Zeppelin and into the placid waters of the Pacific Ocean. Perhaps some well placed parting shot from one of the minions of Joanna's father had done its slow work and been the cause of the untimely cessation of my means of transportation.
I am an excellent swimmer and so there was no dread on my part of the long swim ahead. However, I had barely covered a mile when I became aware that something was tugging rather forebodingly at my ankle. My impression was that I had caught my foot in the compelling maw of some great clam. Before I could reflect more the creature had pulled at me so forcefully that my head, the hair of which I wore in a somewhat long though manly fashion, was yanked below the breath stopping waters of the ocean in which I had so recently found myself. I fought bravely, being an excellent boxer. An old ring axiom has it that a good big man can beat a good little man. However, most rules of honest boxing were not made with giant clams in mind. For one thing, I could not be sure if I was fouling the creature or not. As I struggled I became more and more lightheaded and giddy. As I drove an excellent jab home to what I hoped was a vital spot of the clam I suddenly lost consciousness.
Chapter 2: The Mysterious Host