“Right — let’s go. Follow just above and behind me, so I can see you in my rearview mirror. I was always afraid of running into you when you were on my right.”
In the new formation, they sped on toward the east at a steady ten knots, following the irregular line of the reef. Don was well satisfied with the trip; Franklin had seemed perfectly at home under water — though one could never be sure of this until one had seen how he faced an emergency. That would be part of the next lesson; Franklin did not know it yet, but an emergency had been arranged.
CHAPTER IV
It was hard to distinguish one day from another on the island. The weather had settled in for a period of prolonged calm, and the Sun rose and set in a cloudless sky. But there was no danger of monotony, for there was far too much to learn and do.
Slowly, as his mind absorbed new knowledge and skills, Franklin was escaping from whatever nightmare must have engulfed him in the past. He was, Don sometimes thought, like an overtightened spring that was now unwinding. It was true that he still showed occasional signs of nervousness and impatience when there was no obvious cause for them, and once or twice there had been flare-ups that had caused brief interruptions in the training program. One of these had been partly Don’s fault, and the memory of it still left him annoyed with himself.
He had not been too bright that morning, owing to a late night with the boys who had just completed their course and were now full-fledged third wardens (probationary), very proud of the silver dolphins on their tunics. It would not be true to say that he had a hangover, but all his mental processes were extremely sluggish, and as bad luck would have it they were dealing with a subtle point in underwater acoustics. Even at the best of times, Don would have passed it by somewhat hastily, with a lame: “I’ve never been into the math, but it seems that if you take the compressibility and temperature curves this is what happens…’
This worked on most pupils, but it failed to work on Franklin, who had an annoying fondness for going into unnecessary details. He began to draw curves and to differentiate equations while Don, anxious to conceal his ignorance, fumed in the background. It was soon obvious that Franklin had bitten off more than he could chew, and he appealed to his tutor for assistance. Don, both stupid and stubborn that morning, would not admit frankly that he didn’t know, with the result that he gave the impression of refusing to cooperate. In no time at all, Franklin lost his temper and walked out in a huff, leaving Don to wander to the dispensary. He was not pleased to find that the entire stock of “morning-after” pills had already been consumed by the departing class.
Fortunately, such incidents were rare, for the two men had grown to respect each other’s abilities and to make those allowances that are essential in every partnership. With the rest of the staff, and with the trainees, however, Franklin was not popular. This was partly because he avoided close contacts, which in the little world of the island gave him a reputation for being standoffish. The trainees also resented his special privileges — particularly the fact that he had a room of his own. And the staff, while grumbling mildly at the extra work he involved, were also annoyed because they could discover so little about him. Don had several times found himself, rather to his surprise, defending Franklin against the criticisms of his colleagues.
“He’s not a bad chap when you get to know him,” he had said. “If he doesn’t want to talk about his past, that’s his affair. The fact that a lot of people way up in the administration must be backing him is good enough for me. Besides, when I’ve finished with him he’ll be a better warden than half the people in this room.”
There were snorts of disbelief at this statement, and someone asked:
“Have you tried any tricks on him yet?”
“No, but I’m going to soon. I’ve thought up a nice one. Will let you know how he makes out.”
“Five to one he panics.”
“I’ll take that. Start saving up your money.”
Franklin knew nothing of his financial responsibilities when he and Don left the garage on their second torpedo ride, nor had he reason to suspect the entertainment that had been planned for him. This time they headed south as soon as they had cleared the jetty, cruising about thirty feet below the surface. In a few minutes they had passed the narrow channel blasted through the reef so that small ships could get in to the Research Station, and they circled once round the observation chamber from which the scientists could watch the inhabitants of the seabed in comfort. There was no one inside at the moment to look out at them through the thick plate-glass windows; quite unexpectedly, Franklin found himself wondering what the little shark fancier was doing today.
“We’ll head over to the Wistari Reef,” said Don. “I want to give you some practice in navigation.”
Don’s torpedo swung round to the west as he set a new course, out into the deeper water. Visibility was not good today — less than thirty feet — and it was difficult to keep him in sight. Presently he halted and began to orbit slowly as he gave Franklin his instructions.
“I want you to hold course 250 for one minute at twenty knots, then 010 for the same time and speed. I’ll meet you there. Got it?”
Franklin repeated the instructions and they checked the synchronization of their watches. It was rather obvious what Don was doing; he had given his pupil two sides of an equilateral triangle to follow, and would doubtless proceed slowly along the third to make the appointment.
Carefully setting his course, Franklin pressed down the throttle and felt the surge of power as the torpedo leaped forward into the blue haze. The steady rush of water against his partly exposed legs was almost the only sensation of speed; without the shield, he would have been swept away in a moment. From time to time he caught a glimpse of the seabed — drab and featureless here in the channel between the great reefs — and once he overtook a school of surprised batfish which scattered in dismay at his approach.
For the first time, Franklin suddenly realized, he was alone beneath the sea, totally surrounded by the element which would be his new domain. It supported and protected him — yet it would kill him in two or three minutes at the most if he made a mistake or if his equipment failed. That knowledge did not disturb him; it had little weight against the increasing confidence and sense of mastery he was acquiring day by day. He now knew and understood the challenge of the sea, and it was a challenge he wished to meet. With a lifting of the heart, he realized that he once more had a goal in life.
The first minute was up, and he reduced speed to four knots with the reverse jet. He had now covered a third of a mile and it was time to start on the second leg of the triangle, to make his rendezvous with Don.
The moment he swung the little joy stick to starboard, he knew that something was wrong. The torpedo was wallowing like a pig, completely out of control. He cut speed to zero, and with all dynamic forces gone the vessel began to sink very slowly to the bottom.
Franklin lay motionless along the back of his recalcitrant steed, trying to analyze the situation. He was not so much alarmed as annoyed that his navigational exercise had been spoiled. It was no good calling Don, who would now be out of range — these little radio sets could not establish contact through more than a couple of hundred yards of water. What was the best thing to do?
Swiftly, his mind outlined alternative plans of action, and dismissed most of them at once. There was nothing he could do to repair the torp, for all the controls were sealed and, in any event, he had no tools. Since both rudder and elevator were out of action, the trouble was quite fundamental, and Franklin was unable to see how such a simultaneous breakdown could have happened.