Dolphin Island (2 page)

It was the first time that Johnny had ever seen the ocean. All his life he had lived
far inland, among the hydroponic farms of the Arizona desert or the new forests of
Oklahoma. To see so much wild and unconfined water was wonderful, and a little terrifying.
He stood for a long time staring through the porthole, trying to grasp the fact that
he was indeed racing away from the land of his birth, toward a country of which he
knew nothing. It was certainly too late now to change his mind….

He found the answer to the food problem quite unexpectedly, when he stumbled upon
the ship’s lifeboat. It was a 25-foot, completely enclosed motor launch, tucked under
a section of the hull that could be opened like a huge window. The boat was slung
between two small cranes that could swing outward to drop it in the sea.

Johnny could not resist climbing into the little boat—and the first thing he noticed
was a locker marked “Emergency Rations.” The struggle with his conscience was a brief
one; thirty seconds later, he was nibbling biscuits and some kind of compressed meat.
A tank of rather rusty water soon satisfied his thirst, and presently he felt much
better. This was not going to be a luxury cruise, but its hardships would now be endurable.

This discovery made Johnny change his plans. There was no need to give himself up;
he could hide for the whole duration of the trip—and, with any luck, he could walk
off at the end without being spotted. What he would do afterward he had no idea, but
Australia was a big place, and he was sure that something would turn up.

Back in his hide-out, with enough food for the twenty hours that was the longest that
the voyage could possibly last, Johnny tried to relax. Sometimes he dozed; sometimes
he looked at his watch and tried to calculate where the
Santa Anna
must be. He wondered if she would stop at Hawaii or one of the other Pacific islands,
and hoped that she would not. He was anxious to start his new life as quickly as possible.

Once or twice he thought of Aunt Martha. Would she be sorry that he had run away?
He did not believe so, and he was sure that his cousins would be very happy to have
got rid of him. One day, when he was rich and successful, he would contact them again,
just for the satisfaction of seeing their faces. And that went for most of his classmates,
too,
especially
those who made fun of his small size and called him “Tiny.” He’d show them that brains
and determination were more important than brawn…. It was pleasant to lose himself
in such fantasies, and from them he drifted slowly into sleep.

He was still asleep when the voyage ended. The explosion shook him awake instantly,
and a few seconds later he felt the impact as the
Santa Anna
crashed into the sea. Then the lights went out, and he was left in total darkness.

It was the first time in his life that Johnny had ever felt utter, unreasoning panic.
His limbs had turned to jelly; he could hardly breathe for the weight that was pressing
on his chest. It seemed that he was already drowning—as indeed he might soon be unless
he could escape from this trap.

He had to find the way out, but he was surrounded by crates and packing cases, and
soon lost all sense of direction as he blundered among them. It was like one of those
nightmares when you tried to run and couldn’t; but this was no dream—it was all too
real.

The pain and shock of crashing against some unseen obstacle jarred him out of his
panic. It was no good losing his head and stumbling around in the dark. The thing
to do was to keep moving in the same direction until he found the wall. Then he could
work along it until he came to the door.

The plan was excellent, but there were so many obstructions that it seemed an age
before he felt smooth metal in front of him and knew that he had reached the wall
of the compartment. After that, the rest was easy, and he almost cried with relief
when he found the door and jerked it open. For the corridor outside was not, as he
had feared, also in darkness. The main lights had failed, but a dim blue emergency
system was operating, and he could see without difficulty.

It was then that he noticed the smell of smoke, and realized that the
Santa Anna
was on fire. He also noticed that the corridor was no longer level—the ship was badly
down at the stern, where the engines were. Johnny guessed that the explosion had breached
the hull, and that the sea was coming in.

Perhaps the ship was in no danger, but he could not be sure. He did not like the way
she was listing, still less the ominous creaking of the hull. The helpless ship was
rolling and pitching in a most unpleasant manner, and Johnny felt a sensation in the
pit of his stomach that he guessed must be the first sign of seasickness. He tried
to ignore it and to concentrate on the more important matter of staying alive.

If the ship was sinking, he had better find his way to the lifeboat as quickly as
possible; that would be where everyone else would be heading. The crew would be surprised
to find another passenger, and he hoped there would be enough room for him.

But where was the lifeboat section? He had been there only once, and though he was
sure he could find his way if he had plenty of time, this was just what he lacked.
Because he was in such a hurry, he took several wrong turnings and had to retrace
his footsteps. Once he found his way blocked by a massive steel bulkhead which, he
was certain, had not been there before. Smoke curled around its edges and Johnny could
hear, quite distinctly, a steady crackling sound from the far side. He turned and
ran as fast as he could, back along the dimly lit passageway.

He was exhausted and desperately frightened when he finally got back on the correct
track. Yes, this was the right corridor—there would be a short flight of stairs at
the end, and that would lead to the lifeboat section. He started to run, now that
he was near his goal and had no need to conserve his strength.

His memory had not played him false. The stairs were there, just as he had expected.
But the boat was gone.

The hull was wide open, and the davits were slung outward with their empty pulley
blocks waving as if to tantalize him. Through the huge gap that had been opened to
pass the lifeboat, fierce gusts of wind were blowing, bringing flurries of spray.
The taste of salt was already bitter in Johnny’s mouth; soon he would know it only
too well.

Sick at heart, he walked to the opening and looked out over the sea. It was night,
but the Moon that had seen the beginning of his adventure still shone upon its ending.
Only yards below, an angry sea was smashing against the side of the ship, and ever
and again a wave came climbing up the hull and went swirling around his feet. Even
if the
Santa Anna
was not shipping water elsewhere, she would soon be doing so here.

Somewhere, not far away, there was a muffled explosion, and the emergency lights flickered
and died. They had served him just long enough, for he could never have found his
way here in the darkness. But did it matter anyway? He was alone, in a sinking ship,
hundreds of miles from land.

He peered out into the night, searching for some sign of the lifeboat, but the sea
was empty. The launch could, of course, be standing by on the other side of the
Santa Anna
, and he would be unable to see it. This seemed the most likely explanation, for the
crew would hardly have left the area while the ship was still afloat. Yet they had
certainly wasted no time, so they must have known that the situation was serious.
Johnny wondered if the
Santa Anna
was carrying a cargo of explosives or inflammables—and if so, just when it would
go up.

A wave slapped against his face, blinding him with spray; even during these few minutes,
the sea had crept appreciably higher. Johnny would not have believed that so large
a ship could go down so quickly; but hoverships, of course, were very lightly built
and were not designed for this sort of treatment. He guessed that the water would
be level with his feet in about ten minutes.

He was wrong. Suddenly, without any warning, the
Santa Anna
checked her slow, regular wallow and gave a great lurch, like a dying animal trying
to get to its feet for the last time. Johnny did not hesitate; some instinct told
him that she was going down and that he had better get as far away as he could.

Bracing himself for the chill, he hit the water in a smooth, clean dive. Even as he
went under, he was surprised to experience not cold, but warmth. He had forgotten
that during these last few hours he had passed from winter into summer.

When he came to the surface, he started swimming with all his might, in his clumsy
but effective overarm stroke. Behind him he heard monstrous gurglings and crashings,
and a roaring sound as of steam escaping from a geyser. Abruptly, all these noises
ceased; there was only the moaning of the wind and the hissing of the waves as they
swept past him into the night. The tired old
Santa Anna
went down smoothly, without any fuss, and the backward suction that Johnny had feared
never arrived.

When he was sure that it was all over, he started to tread water while he surveyed
the situation, and the first thing that he saw was the lifeboat, less than half a
mile away. He waved his arms and shouted at the top of his voice, but it was quite
useless. The boat was already leaving; even had anyone been looking back, it was unlikely
that he would have been spotted. And, of course, no one would have dreamed that there
was another survivor to be picked up.

Now he was alone, beneath a yellow, westering Moon and the strange stars of the southern
skies. He could float here for hours; the sea, he had already noticed, was much more
buoyant than the fresh-water creeks in which he had learned to swim. But however long
he stayed afloat, it would make no difference in the end. There was not one chance
in a million that anybody would find him; his last hope had vanished with the departing
lifeboat.

Something bumped into him, making him yelp with surprise and alarm. But it was only
a piece of debris from the ship. The water around him, Johnny noticed, was full of
floating objects. The discovery raised his spirits a little, for if he could make
a raft, that would improve his chances considerably. Perhaps he might even drift to
land, like those men who had ridden the Pacific currents on the famous
Kon-Tiki
, almost a century ago.

He began swimming toward the slowly swirling debris, and found that the sea had suddenly
become much smoother. Oil oozing from the wreck had calmed the waves, which no longer
hissed angrily, but rose and fell in sluggish undulations. At first their height had
scared him, but now as he bobbed up and down with their passage, he found that they
could do him no harm. Even in his present predicament, it was exciting to know that
one could rise safely and effortlessly over the biggest wave.

Presently he was pushing his way among floating boxes, pieces of wood, empty bottles,
and all sorts of small flotsam. None of this was any use to him; he wanted something
big enough to ride on. He had almost given up all hope of finding it when he noticed
a dark rectangle rising and falling in the swell, about fifty feet away.

When he reached it, he was delighted to find that it was a large packing case. With
some difficulty, he scrambled aboard and found that it could carry his weight. The
raft was not very stable, and had a tendency to capsize, until Johnny spread himself
flat across it; then it rode the waves with about three inches to spare. In the brilliant
moonlight, Johnny could read the stenciled letters across which he was lying. They
said: “PLEASE STORE IN A COLD, DRY PLACE.”

Well, he was hardly dry, but he was certainly getting cold. The wind blowing across
his wet clothes was making him feel uncomfortably chilly, but he would have to put
up with this until the sun rose. He looked at his watch and was not surprised to see
that it had stopped. Even so, the time it showed made no sense; then he remembered
that he must have crossed many time zones since he stole aboard the ill-fated
Santa Anna
. By now, his watch would be at least six hours fast.

He waited, shivering on his little raft, watching the Moon go down and listening to
the noises of the sea. Though he was worried, he was no longer badly frightened. He
had had so many narrow escapes that he had begun to feel that nothing could harm him.
Even though he had no food or water, he was safe for several days. He refused to think
further ahead than that.

The Moon slid down the sky, and the night grew darker around him. As it did so, he
saw to his astonishment that the sea was ablaze with floating particles of light.
They flashed on and off like electric signs, and formed a luminous lane behind his
drifting raft. When he dipped his hand in the water, fire seemed to flow from his
fingers.

The sight was so wonderful that for a moment he forgot his danger. He had heard that
there were luminous creatures in the sea, but he had never dreamed that they existed
in such countless myriads. For the first time, he began to glimpse something of the
wonder and mystery of the great element that covered three quarters of the globe,
and which now controlled his destiny.

The Moon touched the horizon, seemed to hover there for a moment, and then was gone.
Above him the sky was ablaze with stars—the ancient ones of the old constellations,
the brighter ones that had been put there by man in the fifty years since he had ventured
into space. But none of these were as brilliant as the stars that flashed beneath
the sea in such billions that the raft appeared to float upon a lake of fire.

Even when the Moon had set, it seemed ages before the first sign of dawn. Then Johnny
saw a faint hint of light in the eastern sky, watched eagerly as it spread along the
horizon, and felt his heart leap as the golden rim of the sun pushed up over the edge
of the world. Within seconds, the stars of sky and sea had vanished as if they had
never existed, and day had come.