Although the attack by Dietz and Company had had a comic ending, Biff, his uncle, and Derek realized that the next such attack might have more serious consequences.
The three had settled down on the soft white sand. No one spoke, their minds whirling with thoughts of Dietz. The giant Indian, Crunch, was a few feet removed, squatting on his huge haunches and chewing on a piece of salt grass.
Charlie Keene looked at his nephew.
“Doing some heavy thinking, Biff?” he inquired.
“Trying to, Uncle Charlie. Look ...” he paused, then went on. “I have a feeling that since Dietz failed on this try, he’ll grow even more desperate. I mean, the next time he tries, he probably won’t be so easy to scare off.”
“You’re absolutely right, Biff.”
The boy was silent again. He wanted to be clear in his own mind before he advanced the proposal he had outlined to himself.
“Derek, I don’t want you to be offended by what I’m about to say. It’s just that I want to get my thinking clear. Okay?”
“Nothing you could say, Biff, could make me feel angry with you.”
“Thanks, Derek.” The two boys looked at one another in the starlit night. The bond of friendship between them had grown stronger with each passing day.
“It’s this, Derek. Finding the pearl fishery is of secondary importance to you. Finding your father comes first.”
“You know that, Biff.”
Charles Keene waited. He knew his nephew was cooking up a plan. He also knew that most of Biff’s plans had merit.
“Well, then,” Biff continued. “As I see it, we’re faced with two big problems. First, if we abandon our search for the pearl fishery, to devote all our time to looking for your father, then we give Dietz a wide-open field to try to find the fishery. That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t, Biff. But I must find my father,” Derek replied earnestly.
“Very true, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “It’s quite a problem.” Charles Keene offered no suggestions. He was anxious to see how his nephew would attack the problem, what solution he might come up with.
“Uncle Charlie, a few moments ago you used the word ‘harassment.’ You said that would be the chief tactic used by Dietz to delay our locating the pearl fishery,” Biff said.
“He’ll double his efforts if I’m any judge. What’s on your mind?”
“If we can pull it off—” Biff was thinking out loud.
“Pull what off, Biff?” Derek asked.
“I’ve got a plan. I want to know what you and Uncle Charlie think of it.”
“Fire away, Biff,” his uncle invited.
“It’s this. Suppose tomorrow, we pretend to find the fishery. We’ll fire off guns. Blast off on the boat horn. Dance around the beach like mad. In full sight of Dietz, of course. Make him think we’ve located the site. Only, of course, we’ll do all this where we know there are no pearls. We’ll put on our act at one of the first places we tackled, before Dietz became so vigilant. What do you think?”
“You’ve got something there, Biff. I’m proud of you,” Biff’s uncle replied.
“It would be fun, too, to fool Dietz,” Derek chimed in excitedly.
“To make it even more convincing,” Biff went on, “we could break camp tomorrow afternoon. Pull out fast. Dietz wouldn’t follow us immediately. Not until he’d done some diving and oyster shucking himself. He’d surely want to make certain we had located the fishery.”
“You’re darn right he would,” Charles Keene said.
“That would give us a chance to get back to Trinité, slip out of town, and really concentrate on looking for your father.”
Biff paused. He looked first at Derek. He felt sure Derek would be enthusiastic about his plan. Then he looked at his uncle. He knew his uncle was considering the plan in every detail.
Uncle Charlie finally spoke. “Well, Biff, I like your plan. You didn’t know this, of course, but I was getting more and more worried about having you and Derek on the bottom of the ocean, with Dietz in his high-powered boat ready to strike at any moment. Calling off the pearl search for the time being makes a lot of sense.”
“And maybe we’ll find my father,” Derek said.
“If he’s on the island, we’ll find him,” Charles Keene said. He spoke with more conviction than he felt, to cheer the Dutch boy up. Privately, he had many doubts as to the possibility of finding Derek’s father.
“Crunch go along. Help find lost white man.”
It was the first time the giant Indian had spoken.
Biff shot a fast glance at his uncle. Charles Keene shook his head. The motion was barely noticeable. But Biff got it. He knew his uncle had some other plan for the Carib.
“I don’t know, Crunch,” Biff said. He knew the Indian wanted to remain in the party. “I think maybe my uncle has an idea where you could be a lot more help. Right, Uncle Charlie?”
Charles Keene turned to the Indian.
“If you want to be a big help to us, Crunch, it would be better for you to go back to Dietz.”
“No like Dietz. Bad man.”
“We know that, Crunch. But, while we’re gone—it will only be a few days—you can keep an eye on Dietz. You’d still be on our side, but Dietz wouldn’t know that. He’d think you were still working for him. You’d be our spy.”
“Crunch a spy?”
From the tone of the Indian’s voice, Biff could tell that Crunch was pleased. He liked the idea of being a spy.
“That’s right, Crunch,” Uncle Charlie continued. “You’d pretend to be still working for him, but you’d watch everything he did. He might even find the pearl fishery, and we’d surely want to know about that. Then, when we got back, you could tell us everything that had been going on. How about it?”
“Crunch do it. He go now.”
The Indian rose to his feet and faded into the night for his half-mile swim back to the island camp of the enemy. Biff wondered what kind of a reception he would receive from Dietz but felt sure Crunch could take care of himself.
The next morning the boys and Charles Keene were up at the first crack of dawn. Over a hasty breakfast, they went over their plan for the last time. As the sun boiled up out of the Atlantic, the three headed out to sea.
It wasn’t long before they saw Dietz’s boat come into sight, rocking above the horizon off their starboard side.
“Here we go,” Charles Keene said. “Drop anchor.”
Derek heaved the hook over. Biff was already donning his diving apparatus. Derek was only a few moments behind as Biff slipped into the warm waters of the Caribbean and made his descent.
The boys stayed down for about half an hour. When they surfaced and climbed aboard, Biff cracked open an oyster. Immediately, he let out a shout and danced up and down.
Derek joined in the deception. Charlie Keene put his head together with the two boys, and for several moments they carefully inspected an imaginary pearl in Biff’s empty hand.
They all knew Dietz was observing their actions through powerful binoculars.
With happy shouts that bounced across the waves and reached Dietz’s boat, Biff and Derek plunged back into the water. They sent up several more baskets of oysters. When they surfaced and climbed back into the boat, they shucked a few more oysters. Then Charles Keene shook each boy’s hand and clapped them on the back.
“Up anchor!” Charlie shouted. He started the motor. The boat raced back to the camp site.
“Look back over your shoulder, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said.
Dietz had brought his boat into the area just abandoned by the boys and Uncle Charlie.
“Isn’t he dropping a marking buoy right about where we were?” Biff asked.
“He sure is.”
“Then we did fool him!” Derek sang out happily.
“For the time being, at least. But we’ve got to move fast. He’ll be sampling oysters from that same bed as fast as he can.”
The three struck camp quickly. They loaded their gear into the cabin cruiser. With a triumphant blast on the boat horn and a burst of shots from Charles Keene’s gun, they pointed the bow of the cruiser toward La Trinité.
They passed within a quarter of a mile of Dietz’s boat. They could see Dietz hauling in lines holding the baskets of oysters which Specks had filled on the bottom. They didn’t see Crunch. He must have been pressed into oyster diving also.
Ten minutes later, they could barely see Dietz’s white boat bobbing on the blue water over the imaginary pearl bed.
“We pulled it off, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said.
“That we did, Biffo me lad.”
“And now we can hunt for my father,” Derek added.
“And we’ll find him, too!” Biff said confidently.
Charles Keene frowned. He erased the frown quickly, but not so fast that Biff missed it.
Biff knew his uncle believed that Brom Zook must have been lost at sea. The thought sent Biff’s high spirits plunging downward.
In La Trinité, Biff, his uncle, and Derek moved about with haste. Following a speedy lunch, they shopped for enough supplies to last them for their expedition into the interior of Martinique.
“Step lively, boys,” Uncle Charlie urged. “It won’t take Dietz long to find out he’s been fooled. And we don’t want him hounding us on this search.”
“Uncle Charlie,” Biff said, “if Dietz comes into Trinité and finds our boat still moored in Treasure Bay, won’t he know we’re still somewhere nearby?”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take, Biff.”
“But if we took the boat up the coast—got it away from here—that would cause him further delay, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right again, Biff.”
“But why would Dietz want to follow us when we’re searching for my father?” Derek asked.
“He wants to know about your father as much as we do. But for different reasons,” Charles Keene replied, a frown darkening his face.
Derek thought this over. “If we learn some bad news about my father—if we should learn he really is gone—” Derek gulped. He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud that they might find out that Brom Zook was dead. “If that is how our search should end, then you mean there could be some doubt as to whether the claim he originally filed is still valid?”
“Afraid so, Derek. I believe your claim would be supported in time. But there would be delay after delay as Dietz went to the courts to try to have it invalidated.”
“I see.”
Biff wanted to get his friend Derek’s mind away from such depressing thoughts.
“About the boat again, Uncle Charlie. Why don’t we go around the point, head north along the coast, and find a sheltered harbor where we could hide the boat? Then we could head inland from there.”
“That’s what we’ll do, Biff. And let’s do it right away,” his uncle agreed.
They made a run of about ten miles along the east coast of Martinique and found a small cove between Ste. Marie and Marigot. They beached the boat and covered it with the lacy leaves of the giant fern trees which grow to a height of twenty feet on Martinique. Over the ferns they spread palm fronds. The boat was completely hidden.
From the beach, they could see the peak of Mt. Pelée, rising nearly five thousand feet in the air.
“Boys, what do you say we make Pelée our first goal?” Charles Keene suggested. “Your searches haven’t brought you that far north and east, have they, Derek?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay. Let’s move out then.”
Each of the three slung a pack over his shoulders, and they plunged into the thick tropical growth.
Biff was enjoying himself. If the object of their search hadn’t been such a serious one, if his feeling that the search might have an unhappy ending hadn’t been so strong, then the exploration would have been even more fun.
Martinique, Biff soon discovered, was truly a beautiful island, one of the most beautiful places in which he had ever been. From the top of steep ridges, the lush, fertile valleys of the island spread out below. Rugged peaks rose like steeples above the ridges.
In the rich valleys, they crossed through sugar-cane fields.
Biff took his knife and slashed a stock down. Its sweet juices oozed out of the slash. Biff pressed the stock to his lips and sucked deeply.
“Try one, Derek. Tastes good,” he said.
Banana trees grew wild almost everywhere they went. Derek shinned up the rough, fat trunk of one tree and yanked down a bunch. He squirreled back down the tree and plopped on the ground to inspect his haul. Derek’s hands were exploring the bunch, trying to select the ripest, fattest banana when Charlie Keene leaped to his side and struck the Dutch boy’s arm a sharp blow.
Derek looked around in amazed alarm.
Charles Keene was stamping on a hairy black spider. He had spotted the ugly insect on Derek’s shoulder and with one swift blow had knocked the spider to the ground.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Keene?” Derek looked frightened.
“Close call, Derek. That spider I just knocked off your arm is calledmatoutou falaise. That’s the local French name for the most poisonous spider on the island. They make their nests in bananas.”
Derek’s face went white.
“It’s all right now. I got him. But after this, be mighty careful when you pick a banana,” Uncle Charlie warned.
Now and again the party would pass a small thatched hut. At each one, they asked questions of the inhabitants.
“A tall man, very thin, with almost white hair,” was the description they gave of Brom Zook. “He’s been missing over three months.”
The natives would only shake their heads. No, they had seen no such man, nor had they heard of such a stranger in these parts.
For three days the party trudged up and down the ridges and peaks of the island. They questioned a hundred or more people. They went to Deux Choux, to Morne Vert, Le Lorrain, Grande Rivière, and towns even smaller. Nowhere did they get any leads to a missing Hollander named Brom Zook.
By the fourth day of the search, it was plain to Biff and his uncle that Derek was becoming more and more discouraged, more and more disheartened. They tried their best to cheer up the Dutch lad.
At the end of the day, they reached the top of Mt. Pelée. Looking down at the sea, they could pick out the ruins of Saint-Pierre. Once, Uncle Charlie told the boys, Saint-Pierre had been the largest city on the island. Then, in the early morning hours, tragedy had struck.
“You know the story about Saint-Pierre and Mt. Pelée, Biff?” Uncle Charlie asked. “You must have heard it, Derek, when you were growing up in Curaçao.”
Derek shook his head. “No, I don’t remember it, Mr. Keene.”
“It was just after the turn of the century, around 1902, I believe. Saint-Pierre then had a population of thirty thousand people. Early one morning, as the city slept, Mt. Pelée erupted. It shot forth a sheet of flame and molten lava. In a matter of only a few seconds, thirty thousand people were dead. Most of them died in their beds.”
“The whole city wiped out? In seconds?” Biff asked incredulously.
“That’s right, Biff,” Charlie Keene said. “There was only one survivor.”
“How could one person survive when thirty thousand others perished?” Biff demanded.
“It’s a most unusual story. This person was a prisoner in Saint-Pierre. He was in solitary confinement. The cell he was in had stone walls several feet thick. That’s what saved him. The walls were so thick they resisted the heat. The prisoner didn’t even know about the catastrophe until several days later when rescue crews explored the prison.”
Biff could only shake his head.
That night they camped on top of the volcano and went into Saint-Pierre the next morning. “As you can see,” Uncle Charlie pointed out, “the town has been partly rebuilt. But today, only six thousand persons live here where, fifty years ago, Saint-Pierre had thirty thousand residents.”
Inquiries were made at the police station. The three searchers could hardly believe their ears. They received their first lead.
“No, I do not know the man’s name,” the police officer said, “but a man of such a description as you give has been staying in a small pension just outside the city for the last few months.”
“Where? Where is it?” Derek cried out.
“I will be only too happy to take you there,” the courteous officer replied.
They rode through the volcanic ruins of Saint-Pierre toward the gentle slope that led toward Mt. Pelée. Although some sections had been built up, there were still plenty of signs of the savage destruction caused by Mt. Pelée’s eruption over half a century before.
Derek was in the front seat with the police officer. Biff and Charles Keene were in the rear seat. Biff had his fingers crossed. Both the boy and his uncle were praying that the man the police officer referred to might be Derek’s father.
The car drew up before a small vine-covered house. Derek leaped out. The police officer led the way. Biff and Charles Keene were right behind.
A broad veranda swept round three sides of the house. The officer made an inquiry, then motioned Derek to follow him.
Biff was a step behind Derek. At the far end of the veranda, they could see a man sitting in a high-backed wicker chair, his back to them.
As they approached the chair, Biff kept his eyes on Derek. The Dutch boy rushed forward and turned to confront the man in the chair. Biff watched the expression on Derek’s face.
Biff read his answer from the disappointment which spread over his friend’s features.
The man was not Brom Zook.
In the morning, the three breakfasted in silence. Biff wanted to say something to cheer up Derek. But what was there to say? Derek’s face was white and drawn. It was plain to see that the Dutch boy had had little if any sleep the night before.
It was Derek who broke the silence.
“I want to thank you both,” he said. “But I don’t feel that I can ask you to continue this search any longer.”
“We’ll go along with you just as long as you want us to,” Biff spoke up loyally. “Right, Uncle Charlie?”
“Certainly, Biff.”
“No. It’s no use,” Derek continued. “Not in this section of Martinique. I’m sure that if my father were anywhere around here, we’d have heard something about it—some rumor, some tale of a tall white man.”
“I agree with you there, Derek,” Charles Keene said. “But there is much of Martinique still to be searched. The southern part, down around English Bay. That’s south of the spot where we believe your father located the pearl fishery. He might have gone into hiding down that way.”
“You mean, don’t you, Mr. Keene,” Derek said bravely, “that if he was lost at sea, and washed ashore, then it would be in that section of Martinique?”
Charles Keene didn’t reply. Derek had read his thoughts.
Right after breakfast, the three headed back across Martinique toward the cove where they had hidden their boat. It was about a twenty-mile trip, and they reached the spot just at dark.
“I think we’d better spend the night here,” Uncle Charlie said. “I don’t know this coast too well. Might run into a reef if we try to make it to Trinité tonight.”
Exhausted from their long and fruitless search, the three slept that night under a clear sky, the sleep of the overtired. The sun was already up and blazing when they woke. A quick swim refreshed them after their hard sleep, and half an hour later they were on their way back down the coast.
They reached Trinité by midmorning.
After mooring the boat, they held a conference.
“What are your plans now, Derek?” Biff asked.
“Well, we could continue searching for the pearl fishery. Or—”
“Or we could go south and look for your father,” Biff completed Derek’s thought.
“What about this?” Uncle Charlie cut in. “Suppose Biff and I keep on looking for the pearls and you go off for a few days on your own?”
Biff frowned at these words. He knew his uncle’s intentions were good, but he also felt that if Derek left them, he’d be cut off from the only friends he had on Martinique. He’d be lonely and engaged in a search with his heart heavy at the prospect of what he might discover.
Biff didn’t quite know how to tell his uncle this. He didn’t want to contradict him. He didn’t have to. As he was puzzling a way out of the suggestion made by his uncle, he heard a shout. He looked in the direction the hail had come from. Lumbering down the dock, a broad grin on his strong face, came Crunch.
The giant Indian was delighted to rejoin Biff, his uncle, and Derek. Brilliant white teeth glinted in the sunlight as Crunch wore a perpetual grin on his face.
“What about Dietz?” Uncle Charlie asked.
“Did he locate the pearl fishery while we were gone?” Biff’s question tumbled out after his uncle’s.
“No find fishery,” Crunch said, still grinning. “Dietz look hard, though. Very mad when he find how you fool him.”
“Good,” Biff said. All of them smiled at his news.
“But Dietz do something else,” Crunch went on. “Him get some kind of paper from government.”
“What do you mean, Crunch? What sort of paper?” Charles Keene asked.
“Crunch not understand. Ask questions though. Paper say maybe you don’t find fishery very sudden, then claim no good any more.”
“How can that be, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked.
“I don’t know, Biff. I’d have to see a copy of it.”
“Copy of paper nailed up in post office,” Crunch said.
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”
They leaped into a native taxi, urging the driver to speed and more speed. The taxi creaked and groaned, but it got them there.
In the post office the three read the copy of the document carefully.
“It’s not so good, is it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked.
“No, it isn’t.”
“I don’t quite understand it, Mr. Keene,” Derek said.
“Well, Derek, cutting through the legal phraseology, it comes down to this: Dietz went to Fort-de-France while we were searching for your father. He has challenged your right to the claim, on the grounds that you’re a minor. How old are you, Derek?”
“I’ll be eighteen my next birthday.”
“Well, what Dietz has obtained—in legal terms—is a temporary injunction. It goes into effect five days from now. At that time, the claim and the working permit will be suspended until the courts decide whether Derek is the rightful heir to the claim. I’m sorry, Derek,” Charlie Keene said soberly, “but Dietz has obtained this injunction on the grounds that your father is deceased.”
After a few moments silence, Biff spoke up. “We still have five days, then, to find the fishery. If we did, how would that affect the injunction?”
“Well, going back to the unwritten law of ‘finders keepers,’ Derek would have an excellent chance of retaining the rights, despite any court battle Dietz might put up.”
“What do you say, Derek?” Biff asked. “Shall we go pearl diving again? I know you want to continue the search for your father, but—”
“I’m with you, Biff. It’s only five days.”
“And then, whether we find the fishery or not, we’ll all continue looking for your father until the case comes up in court.”
“One moment there, young fellow,” Uncle Charlie cut in. “I’ll continue with Derek.Youwon’t be here.”
“Won’t be here!” Biff was amazed. “Where am I going to be?”
“On your way back to Indianapolis.”
“Oh. School. I forgot.” Biff’s face fell.
“But we’ve got five days still. Let’s make the most of them,” said his uncle.
It took them two hours to restock their supplies, get air for the diving tanks, and return to the dock. At the end of the dock, lounging against a mooring post, was Dietz. He had an evil expression of triumph on his face.
“Don’t you ever give up?” he said.
Specks hovered behind him.
None of the three answered their enemy. They got into the boat and prepared to cast off.
“Hey? Come back here! Where do you think you’re going?”
Dietz’s startled question was directed at Crunch. Crunch had jumped into the boat with the others.
“Crunch go with friends. No work for bad man any more.”
“You’ll still be working for me!” Dietz shouted back in anger. “If you find the fishery, you’ll be finding it for me, because I’ll win it in court!”
For the next three days, activity went on at a feverish pace. Camp was hastily set up again on the same island, and even when it was late in the day, Biff, Derek, and Uncle Charlie would try another spot hoping to locate the fishery.
They dived from sunup to sundown. The only rest period for Biff and Derek came when Uncle Charlie dashed into Trinité to replenish the air tanks.
The piles of shucked oyster shells grew higher and higher. No pearls were found. The boys worked desperately against time, but as the first day passed, then the second, then the third, they worked with heavy hearts. The time limit was drawing near.
Dietz made no further attacks. He was content now to fight his battle in the courts. But the pearl fishers knew he was still in the area. They saw his boat from time to time. He was keeping his distance, but he was still watching.
However, even by using binoculars, Dietz would be unable to determine whether the boys located the pearl fishery. He could only learn this by finding out the results of the daily diving. He would have to know what the opened oysters yielded. For this reason, a nightly guard was kept. Although Dietz was going to use the courts, the search party didn’t want him to know if and when they did locate the fishery. Crunch insisted on taking the night guard duty. He also worked during the day. Biff often wondered when the big Indian slept.
Although the danger from Dietz had lessened, Charlie Keene kept reminding the boys of the danger that always awaited them when they were diving.
It struck suddenly and viciously on the fourth morning of their diving.
Biff and Derek were down in forty-eight feet of water. They had been digging out oysters for half an hour. Basket after basket had been hauled up.
Waiting for his basket to be lowered to him, Biff was suddenly spun around by a swirl of water. It felt as if he had been caught in a whirlpool. Biff cleared his mask. He looked around. Coming at him out of the murky dark waters was a giant shark. The killer swept by within a foot, then turned and slashed back.
Biff looked frantically for Derek. He saw his glimmering white shape ten feet away. Approaching Derek was a second shark.
The sharks hadn’t struck yet. It seemed they were inspecting their prey, waiting before their razor-sharp teeth tore at the boys’ bodies. Biff swam quickly over to Derek. He grabbed his arm and pointed. The two huge sharks were motionless, their wicked eyes on the boys.
Coming at him out of the murky dark waters was a giant shark
Coming at him out of the murky dark waters was a giant shark
Biff took a deep breath, raised his mask just enough to clear his mouth, and shouted as loud as he could. His shout, of course, made no sound. But Biff knew that the force of the breath expelled by his shout would send a shock wave in the direction of the sharks. He had read that this was one of the best ways of delaying an attack by an undersea monster.
The shout worked. The sharks swam around the boys in circles. But Biff knew that any second they would strike.
There was no time now to go by the book in getting to the surface. Biff jammed his face mask on, quickly cleared it of water, grabbed Derek by the arm, and shoved him upward. He himself followed, propelling himself as fast as he could. Both boys had jettisoned their belts instantly.
Breaking the surface, Biff gasped to his uncle, “Sharks!”
Charlie Keene lost no time. He grabbed Derek, who was closer, and hauled him into the boat. Crunch lifted Biff in.
They were no sooner in the boat than two shark fins cut the water, circling nearer and nearer to the craft.
Biff and Derek lay gasping on the bottom of the boat. Their rapid ascent had drained their bodies of oxygen and strength.
Biff’s uncle quickly started the motor and got away from the spot at full speed. He had seen the size of the sharks. They were big enough to overturn the dory if they struck.
By the time they reached the island camp, the boys had somewhat recovered. But Biff was still shaking as if he had a chill, and Derek’s face was drawn and white.
The narrow escape the boys had undergone was not without its reward, however.
All four of the pearl fishers—Crunch was now one of them—were shucking oysters after a rest and the noonday meal.
Biff, growing more and more bored with the tough job of opening and examining oysters, was about to discard a shell when he noticed a raised protuberance in the exact center on the shell. He took off his glove and dug at the raised part with a fingernail. His excitement grew. Seconds later he dug out an almost perfectly shaped white pearl.
“I’ve got one! I’ve got one!” he shouted.
The others crowded around him. Biff handed the pearl to his uncle.
Charlie Keene inspected it carefully.
“I’m no expert, Biff. But the color, and particularly the shape, of this pearl—I’d say you’ve found a really valuable one.”
“How much? How much is it worth?”
“I couldn’t tell. Only an expert could. But it’s a white pearl—they’re the most valuable. And it’s almost perfectly round. It could be worth several thousands of dollars.”
“Whoopee!” Biff shouted. “Let me at more of those oysters!”
Interest quickened. The four worked in silence, but they worked fast. Oyster after oyster was opened, carefully inspected, then tossed aside.
Derek found the next one. It, too, was perfectly shaped, but slightly smaller than the one Biff had found.
It was Crunch who came through with the topper. A big grin on his face, Crunch came over to Biff and held our his huge hand. In the center of his palm was a pearl twice the size of those already found.
“This is it! This is it! Look at Crunch’s pearl!”
Again they all crowded around. This was a real beauty. It didn’t take an expert to know that Crunch had found a pearl of great value.
“Think we’ve found it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked. “I mean the fishery Derek’s father discovered?”
“It could be, Biff. It darn well could be.”
Biff looked at Derek. There was a smile on the Dutch boy’s face. Then the smile disappeared.
“What’s the matter, Derek?” Biff asked.
“My father found black pearls,” Derek replied.
“They’re all colors, Derek,” Uncle Charlie told him. “Actually, the black ones aren’t as valuable as the white. They’re valuable, all right, especially if they’re perfectly matched, as those two your father sent us were.”
“I’d feel a lot more certain that we’d found the right place if we found some black ones.”
“Let’s go back down when we finish these oysters,” Biff said.
“With all those sharks?”
“Funny thing about sharks,” Uncle Charlie said. “Although they are the pearl diver’s greatest enemy, they can also help produce the pearl.”
“How?” Biff wanted to know.
“The best pearl is the perfectly round pearl. The foreign body which gets into the oyster must be perfectly round to produce the perfect pearl. These round objects are the eggs of parasitic worms. The adult worms are the parasites of sharks.”
“So where you find sharks, you can find pearls?” Biff asked.
“Not exactly, Biff. What I mean is this: where there are pearl fisheries, the perfect pearls come from the eggs the shark’s parasites lay.”
No more pearls were found in the batch dug that morning. It was growing late in the afternoon. They decided to go back to the morning’s site, and if no sharks were in evidence, they’d try half an hour’s diving.
They returned to the same site. Biff and Derek went overside. Before they started scooping up oysters, they made sure no sharks were around. Biff loaded one basket and sent it up. He saw Derek send one up. Biff filled another. He looked at his watch. They’d been down twenty minutes.
“One more basket,” Biff said to himself, “and we’ll call it a day.” He turned in Derek’s direction to signal to him that this was the last basket. Roiling water ahead pushed an alarm button in Biff’s mind. He increased his speed.
Derek was being attacked savagely by giant band shells. They swarmed around him, slashing at him with their claw-shaped, horny shells.
Biff whipped out his knife and shot into action.
The giant band shells, many times the size of the ordinary conch shell, are the only known shell fish to attack human beings. They have a tough, scimitar-shaped muscle which they use as a door to close the opening at the large end of the shell. While other conches use this muscle only as a door, the giant band shell uses it as a weapon. The end of the muscle is hooked and razor sharp. The giant band shell springs at a man, using a second muscle to propel itself, then slashes and cuts with its “door.” In moments, it can cut a man’s body to shreds.
These giants were surrounding Derek. Up close, Biff could see Derek had already received several cuts. Biff knew what this meant. Sharks would come racing through the water, crazed with hunger by the smell of blood.
Biff slashed away at the band shells with his knife. It did no good. The giant shells continued their attack, some of them turning on Biff. There was only one thing to do. Derek was nearly helpless. Biff grabbed him. He shoved him upward with all his strength. Derek disappeared above him. Now the band shells turned their full attack on Biff. He fought them off, trying at the same time to rise. Several of them tried to fasten onto Biff’s legs. He kicked out desperately. He thrust down with his open hands and shot upward. The slower moving band shells were left behind. Biff reached the surface. He lost no time in scrambling into the boat. Uncle Charlie already had pulled Derek, bleeding, into the boat.
Biff just made it. No sooner was he in the boat than the waters around it boiled with maddened sharks, searching for the source of the blood.
Derek’s cuts from the giant band shells were many but not deep ones. Biff and his uncle cleaned the cuts, treated them with a disinfectant, and put Derek to bed.
The Dutch boy was not seriously wounded, but he was suffering from shock. The thing to do, Biff knew, was to keep him warm and quiet. Charlie Keene gave Derek half a sleeping tablet, and the boy finally dozed off.
“What a day! Two narrow escapes. We should never have gone back,” Charles Keene said. “You didn’t tell me there were clam and conch shells in that bed.”
“Didn’t know they were dangerous,” Biff replied.
“And just to see if we could find some black pearls,” his uncle commented.
“Let’s open the oysters we dug,” Biff suggested. “Derek seems to be all right.”
An hour later, Biff came back to the tent. Derek stirred restlessly in his sleep. Biff lighted a lamp Derek suddenly sat upright. Biff went to his side.
“You all right, Derek?” Biff asked.
“I—I guess so. I was dreaming. But—” Derek touched a bandaged cut gingerly. “Sure, I’m all right.”
“This may make you feel even better.”
Biff held out his hand. He thrust it under Derek’s eyes. The hand held a black pearl.
The next morning, convinced they had located Brom Zook’s fabulous pearl fishery, camp was broken. Gear was stored in the cabin cruiser. The tent was struck. By noon the four pearl searchers were back in La Trinité.
The party’s happiness was mingled with sadness. One adventure was over. Derek’s father’s claim was safe. The quest had been successful. But Brom Zook, Derek’s father, was still missing.
“I can’t ask you to stay with me any longer,” Derek said. “You’ve done more than enough for me.”
“I’ll stick with you as long as you want me to, Derek,” Charlie Keene said.
“That goes for me, too, Derek,” Biff added, hoping his uncle would not mention school. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay on in Martinique for a while. I’m going to every town and village on the island until I make as certain as possible my father isn’t here. Then—then—” Derek stopped.
Biff knew what his friend was thinking. He knew that Derek would then have to come to the conclusion that his father had been lost at sea.
“What about you, Crunch? Where are you going?”
“Crunch go back up mountains. Stay with little brother for while.”