03 Underwater Adventure Read Free Page A

watch out for surface boats. He and Roger were morons. They had been so anxious to prove their ability to the head of the expedition. They had botched their chance.
    Hal expected that at any moment the scientist would explode and tell them what he thought of them. He almost wished he would. That would be better than keeping it bottled up and boiling around in his brain.
    Blake looked daggers but said nothing. He barely spoke the rest of the day.
    After they were all in their bunks that night, he said, ‘Hal, you’d better get over to the airport tomorrow morning and meet the seven o’clock plane. Inkham will be coming in.’
    ‘Inkham?’
    ‘Didn’t I tell you? I arranged for him before I left Honolulu. About your age - but he’s really had experience in undersea work. I’ve seen him dive. He’s good.’
    Blake was silent a moment, then he added, ‘It’ll be good to have somebody around who knows which end his head is screwed on to.’
    With which bitter reflection he turned over and went to sleep.
    Hal lay awake all night.

Chapter 2
The practical joke
    Shortly after sunrise, Hal had the dinghy lowered. An outboard motor had been clamped to the stern of the little boat. Hal jumped in, gave the motor a twirl, and sped away across the lagoon.
    It was a morning to make anyone happy. The sun shone gloriously. The water was as smooth and clear as a sheet of plate glass. The coral gardens at the bottom blazed with colour. The green islands towered a thousand feet high. Far away the surf broke white on the reef that encircled the great lagoon.
    Anyone should be happy, but Hal was not. He still smarted from the humiliation of the day before. He had expected to be Dr Blake’s right-hand man. But Blake thought he was a fool. Hal was inclined to agree with him. He had certainly made a brilliant donkey of himself. Now a new man was coming - a man Blake could trust.
    Hal puzzled over the name - Inkham. Where had he heard that name before? It was an odd name, not one you hear every day. He searched his school memories, but in vain. All he could remember was that there had been something unpleasant connected with that name.
    It was eleven miles to the airfield on the big island of Moen. The boat sped through a maze of small islands, passed large Tarik, Param, and Fefan, then skirted the shore of Dublon littered with the ruins of the Japanese city destroyed by the bombing planes of the Allies during World War II. All these west Pacific islands had previously been ruled by the Japanese and were now a Trust Territory of the United Nations, administered by the United States. On Moen was a U.S. Naval Base and airfield.
    A plane droned in from the east and circled the airfield just as Hal pulled up to the dock and climbed out. He was on the field before the plane taxied to a stop.
    Several men in naval uniform stepped out, then a young fellow in civvies.
    Hal disliked his face the moment he saw it. And he was sure he had seen it before. That smart, sly, crafty look was hard to forget.
    The new-comer stopped and looked around. Hal stepped up to him.
    ‘Is your name Inkham?’
    ‘S. K. Inkham, at your service.’
    Then Hal remembered. ‘Why, of course - I thought I knew you - you’re Skink.’ He thrust out his hand.
    Skink took it, but without enthusiasm. ‘And you’re Hal Hunt,’ he said sourly. He did not seem at all pleased to meet an old acquaintance.
    To relieve the strain between them Hal said, ‘Well, come along. FI1 give you a hand with your bags. The boat is over here.’
    As they walked across the field Hal’s mind worked fast, digging up memories. He and Skink had gone to rival high schools. Skink’s first name was Sylvester, but he didn’t like it, so he always called himself S. K. Inkham. His fellow students couldn’t swallow that, so they simply put together his two initials with the first three letters of his last name and nicknamed him Skink.
    Hal could understand why Skink was not pleased to meet anyone who