Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter (10 page)

"Fastest dive we’ve made yet, skipper!" said Bud with a glance at the depth gauge.

Tom nodded. "And this time the sun is high in the sky. Watch how the colors change outside the windows."

At first the view was made up mostly of green, blue, and violet. As they sank deeper, both fish and water faded to a silvery gray. Bit by bit, the ocean darkened before their eyes. At two hundred and fifty fathoms they approached the realm of eternal night—too deep for sunshine to penetrate.

Tom reached out to the control panel and flicked on his powerful undersea searchlights. A fantastic world of deep-water denizens sprang into view under the stabbing diamond-white glare.

"Aha! Now things get really interesting!" enthused Ham Teller. Both he and George, who had crossed over to Compartment A, had paper and pencil ready but were too fascinated to do much note-taking.

The fish that swam past looked like creatures out of a nightmare. All of them seemed to have gaping jaws and long, needlelike teeth. Many trailed sinuous, dangling antennae from various parts of their bodies. Most were black or grayish in color, though a few were red, and at least one that darted into view was a bright electric blue.

Chow’s eyes gleamed. "Put one o’ them critters in a fry pan an you’d get a stummick-ache jest lookin’ at it."

Bud shot him a warning glance. "Don’t get any ideas!"

"It’s very possible that some of these fish are prehistoric types, long thought extinct," Ham pointed out. "For instance, off the mouth of the Congo, fishermen netted one called Crossopterygia that was supposed to have died out two hundred million years ago."

"You mean it was hiding out in deep water all that time? Must be the shy type!" Bud quipped.

Ham laughed. "Until that one live specimen was caught, the only traces of that fish known to science were fossilized bones of its ancestors."

"Let’s turn off the searchlights a minute," George suggested.

Tom flicked off the master switch, which controlled the aqualamp mounted on Compartment B as well as the one on Compartment A. The darkness outside the windows was broken by eerie phosphorescent gleams darting to and fro.

"Well, I’ll be jing-whistled!" said Chow. "Never knew they had fireflies down here."

George grinned. "Those are fish, Chow. Some of these deep-water kinds carry their own headlights—natural luminescence."

The searchlights went back on and the descent continued.

As the restless hours slipped by, Chow periodically returned to the galley to whip up a series of snacks that would take the place of supper for the crew, who did not plan to return to Madeira until late at night. The metal detector and Damonscope remained silent and dark, and the oceannauts took turns napping in their contour chairs, which could recline.

Ham Teller expounded upon the clues that he and George believed showed Atlantis to be more than a myth. "Consider that word used by Plato—
Atlantis.
It’s an unknown word with a typical Greek ending tacked on. It may be related to their god Atlas, which only solves one mystery by introducing another.

"In fact, we’ve identified a number of ancient place-names that have a kind of family relationship to ‘Atlantis,’ all of them having some connection to traditions of a lost land across, or in, the Great World Ocean, as the Greeks called it. In Europe there’s Atalantea, Atland, Odtlasa, and even the turtle lady’s Ybalon-tquie. Some tribes in western Africa sing of Tontlango or Tlantu-Banguw, and the ancient civilizations of Latin America spoke of lost homelands called Aztlan, Tulan, Isquolon Che, Tlillan-Tallapan, or Ollantay-Tanbu."

"It’s fascinating," commented Tom. "Some of the same sound-combinations keep showing up."

Now George Braun took the floor. "Listen to this. I wrote it down in my notebook. It’s part of a translated report made by a Friar from Spain in 1558. He spent some years with the Quimoyai Indians of the Amazon Basin.
‘I ask the wise men whence their old fathers came, and they tell me that where the sun rises is the Lake With No Shore, by which they denote the Ocean Sea itself. If one goes into the waters by canoe for ten and twenty days, to the sun by day and the moon by night, by which fancy they intend a northerly direction, one arrives at length to the place where the froth rises upward and the fish weep in mourning. This is where the old land, Quamatlon, fell into the deep water and drowned, and Mother Sky turned black, and Father Sun in his great despair refused to shine for a year.’
"

"There’s also the story of the Garden of Eden in Genesis," added Ham.

Bud objected. "I though Eden was somewhere east of the lands of the Bible—like in India."

"The passage actually says ‘a garden in Eden, in the east,’ which could mean that the ‘garden’ was located in the east part of ‘Eden.’ As a matter of fact, a Babylonian text portrays events similar to those in Genesis taking place in the ‘fertile valley toward the sun’ in the mountains of
Eydulen—
another ‘Atlantis’ word!"

"I happen to think our lost land was called something like Tlaan by its inhabitants," George commented.

"Nonsense!" insisted Ham. "Tulayon, almost certainly!"

"I’ll just stick to Atlantis," Bud said.

Deeper and deeper they plunged, following the downslant of the rough ocean floor from only a few yards above it. Finally the
Ocean Arrow
came to a range of subsea mountains that formed a solid, impassable barrier. At a depth of two miles, Tom gave the downthrusting rotor-prop blades a shallower pitch and swiveled the directional jets.

"Let’s cruise around a bit," he suggested. "We’ll have to go over this range anyway."

"This is the southern flank of the range that makes up the Horseshoe Seamounts," Ham Teller pointed out. "On the other side is the plain where we think we’ll find—you know."

Roving eastward, they came in sight of a steep, canyonlike crevice in the mountain face. "Volcanic crustal fracture," declared Ham. "Further on in, the bottom probably drops out. The fissure could go down quite a distance."

"We can jump over it! Should we take a peek inside?" Tom asked the two oceanographers. Somewhat nervously, Ham and George agreed.

Like a giant fish, the
Ocean Arrow
nosed into the cleft. Minutes went by as they wound among the beetling rock walls, the seacopter demonstrating its uncanny agility. Presently the cleft widened on either side. Yet high overhead the rock walls curved so close together that they almost touched, like two hands concealing a secret from the eyes of the upper world.

Tom’s heart was thudding. They were now probing an unknown land, one that would be invisible to sonar-soundings from above.

"According to my chart, we’re right in the middle of that density anomaly," murmured Ham in a near-whisper. "Signs of volcanic upheaval all around us."

As they rose over a rocky obstruction, Bud grabbed his pal by the arm. "Tom, look!" Ahead, in the glare of their searchlight, lay a pillared temple! Excitement was so intense among the voyagers that no one spoke. All had their eyes glued to the windows.

Slowly Tom swiveled the searchlight. As the penetrating beam swept over the area, other hulking shadows became visible. Though heavily crusted with barnacles and other sea growths, there was no doubt about their true nature—once upon a time they had been buildings constructed by human beings!

"You’ve found it, Tom!" gasped Ham Teller. "It’s the city of gold!"

"LOOKS LIKE a city, all right," agreed Tom, scarcely able to believe his eyes. "But let’s find out if it’s really gold."

Steering close to the temple, Tom rotated the jets mounted beneath the forward compartment, while steadying the ship with the rear group. He aimed the forward blast straight at one of the pillars. Like a powerful spray nozzle, it stripped away the encrusted sediment. Underneath, a greenish-gold metal shone in the searchlight glare.

Chow let out a wild whoop. "Brand my burro, if that ain’t the real stuff, I never seen a miner’s gold-dust pan!"

"Good night, Tom!" Bud breathed. "There must be enough gold here to fill a mint!"

Tom, Ham, and George were too awed to speak for several minutes. Then the young inventor said to the oceanographers, "You’ll go down in history as great explorers—and the richest men on earth after you salvage this treasure."

"Which will be a job for a Swift invention!" Ham retorted.

For the next hour, the
Ocean Arrow
weaved in and out among the various buildings while Ham and George scribbled copious notes. The submarine canyon had widened out to a broad area that appeared to be about a mile wide, overhung by the towering cliffs and draped with stringy aquatic vegetation. The ocean floor, which seemed slightly tilted, was littered with great carved blocks, broken columns, huge collapsed structures, and murky forms that might have been statues.

Tom periodically blasted off the sea-gunk. Nearly always, gold was revealed underneath. "And it definitely
is
a gold alloy, guys," Tom declared. "The metal detector confirms it. But it’s not pure—some other things are mixed in that I can’t identify."

Tom then cleared off one of the statuelike forms. "Huh!" muttered Chow. "What th’ hey is
that
s’posed to be?" The carving was of a squat animal seated on its haunches, mouth open wide. "Guess it’s a dog."

George Braun chuckled. "No, pal, I’d say it’s a lion. The stylization reminds me of that used by the ancient Olmecs of Mexico."

"I guess realism wasn’t in style," Bud remarked dryly.

"What sort of architecture
is
this, George?" Tom inquired. "I’ve never seen anything like it." Many of the gold-plated buildings had gable roofs and broken towers adorned with grotesque faces. One vast, palace-like structure sported a row of support columns shaped like gracefully curving hourglasses.

"Bet you were expecting something like a combination of the Greek Acropolis and the Roman Coliseum, weren’t you? This looks Akkadian, perhaps Sumerian—but I’ve seen similar sights at Cnossos and in Cambodia."

"Don’t forget the Maya," cautioned Ham Teller. "You’re being too Eurocentric."

As the oceanographers discussed the finer points of ancient architecture, Tom forced himself back to thinking about the search for the space rocket. After a brief conference, the mariners decided to shift their search farther southeast along the ridge they had been paralleling. Nimbly leapfrogging the various obstructions with the grace of an undersea hummingbird, the
Ocean Arrow
reentered the narrow pass through which they had first come. They were approaching the last sharp turn when the seacopter suddenly vibrated from a shock.

"Whazzat?" demanded Chow nervously. "We run into somethin’?"

"More likely a whale ran into
us,"
joked Bud.

"I don’t see anything up front," Tom remarked. "Maybe something bounced off the B hull."

Bud offered to go take a look. In a moment he buzzed Tom over the intercom from the aft compartment. "It’s a head, skipper!"

"A
head?"

"A big carved one. The prop action must’ve dislodged it from the cliffside."

Relieved, Tom began to inch the craft forward. But before the
Arrow
had traveled more than a few yards, a terrifying thud resounded through the cabin as the seacopter shook wildly. A boulder had just crashed down on the hull!

Tom flashed the searchlight upward. "The whole mountainside’s coming apart!" he cried out in horror.

His words were followed by a hail of massive rocks pelting down on the
Ocean Arrow!

Chow and the two oceanographers were thrown to the deck as the cabin rocked from the force of the blow and a shower of rocks fell past the quartz windows. Only Tom, belted to his chair, kept his place.

"W-what’s causing it?" George gasped.

"Compression waves from our rotors probably—they must have loosened a whole stratum of rock and caused a landslide!" As he spoke, Tom grabbed the throttle lever and gunned the jets for a getaway. There was a brief spurt of power—then no further response! The needle of the rpm indicator flickered to zero!

Tom’s face turned pale. "We’ve lost power! The pumps aren’t working and the rotor’s dead!’’

"Then why’n tarnation don’t we hightail up to the surface like a bubble?" Chow asked desperately.

"The weight of the rocks is pressing us down. We’re sinking! Can’t you feel it?"

The others were too alarmed to answer. For several moments the
Ocean Arrow
continued to sink into the shadowed depths of the deep volcanic cleft. Then suddenly there was a violent jolt that again knocked the standing crew off their feet.

"Now what?" exclaimed Ham Teller, rushing to the window as soon as he regained his balance.

"We’re pinned on a rock ledge!" said Tom, playing the searchlight downward. Miraculously the high-powered aqualamp was still working. In its crystalline glare, rocks and gravel could be seen raining down on all sides, to disappear below into a dark abyss with no visible floor.

George stared in awe. "It’s a wonder we haven’t been smashed to pieces."

"If this were happening on dry land, we probably would be," replied Tom, forcing a calm voice. "Rocks fall slower in deep water. It’s denser and gives them more resistance. The rocks seem to weigh less, too, because of the buoyancy effect."

Nevertheless, their plight was grave. The falling rocks had hit with enough force to cause leaks in some of the seams. Under great pressure, water was beginning to spray into the cabin at half a dozen points. In seconds the tiled deck was covered over to a depth of one inch—and rising!

"I wonder how Bud’s making out in B," Tom said worriedly. He clicked on the intercom and called to his friend. His face turned grim.

"The line’s dead," he announced.

At that instant the lights went out, plunging the cabin into darkness.

"Final straw!" Chow groaned. "We’re goners!"

"DON’T PANIC!" Tom Swift commanded, a firm voice in the darkness.

"Easy for you to say," retorted Ham Teller. "You’re not me!"