Rick Brant - The Flaming Mountain Part 12

"Certainly, senor."

Guevara called, "Amigos!" Montoya translated the Spanish for the boys. "You know what you have been guarding. Now I must leave. What is left is yours. Work as fast as you can and find many diamonds. May good fortune be yours!"

The ring broke as the peons rushed to grab shovels. Guevara led the way to the truck.

It was all so easy, Rick thought later, if you were an aristocratic Montoya with a code of honor that permitted no yielding, even unto death. No one else he had ever met could have carried it off quite so superbly.

So fast had the Seabees swung into operation that work on the big hole already was in progress when Montoya dropped the boys off. Pneumatic drills hammered into the congealed lava, cutting holes in which charges would be placed. As the boys watched, explosive was thrust into the holes, a warning was yelled through a portable loud-speaker, and the charge fired. Tons of rock were loosened.

Even before the dust had begun to settle, huge machines were lifting the rock out, or dragging big chunks, and dumping them down the mountainside. Bulldozers kept the rock moving, keeping the entrance clear. Within minutes the hole was empty of rock and the pneumatic drills were hammering again. The cycle was repeated.

The Seabees joked as they worked, and warned each other against shoving a hole right through into hot lava, but the pace never slowed for an instant.

Hour after hour the big hole deepened until the Seabees ran into noxious gases. Then they donned gas masks and continued. Deeper and deeper the hole was driven, until the temperature at the hole's end was over a hundred degrees. The Seabees merely shortened working time and operated in relays so efficiently that no time was lost.

Rick and Scotty got back to the hole as often as they could, but there was much doing elsewhere. The Hot Springs Hotel swarmed with scientists and observers, and there were heated conferences and late evaluation sessions. The Spindrift scientists were always in demand, and their faces grew gaunt as the days pa.s.sed.

The hole gave its own location because of the shock waves it sent through the earth to the recorders, and even Rick's untrained eye could see the traces slowly closing with the magma front.

Earthquakes increased in frequency until Rick and Scotty felt as though the ground never ceased shuddering.

The air became noisy with planes as the Military Air Transport Command began ferrying in troops. Flight after flight of huge transports roared in for a landing at the Calor airport, discharged the soldiers, and took off again at once.

And still the diamond hunt continued.

Then, at one o'clock in the afternoon, Hartson Brant called a halt.

"The magma's moving up through the dike," he reported. "It's now or never. Captain Montoya, we will ask the troops to clear the area. Commander Jameson, withdraw all men and equipment except those necessary for the final packing. Dr. Cantrell, please be ready to place the charge at dawn tomorrow."

The final phase of the operation swung into action. The troops gathered at Redondo and marched shoulder to shoulder southward along the mountain slopes. They herded the diamond seekers before them, sometimes with enough roughness to overcome protests, but mostly with little difficulty. They herded the population entirely around El Viejo, and established a perimeter from Calor northward, with the population confined to a narrow segment of the island along the seaward side.

Loud-speaker trucks roamed along the perimeter, rea.s.suring the people. Military disaster units cooked huge quant.i.ties of food and prepared thousands of gallons of coffee and reconst.i.tuted milk. American soldiers played with cute little San Luzian kids and-after the diamond seekers became convinced they had never had a chance to find diamonds-the whole affair became one big picnic.

But it was a picnic with overtones of fear.

Rick and Scotty watched the placement of the nuclear explosive-a simple steel can, from the outside-in the big hole. They watched the remaining handful of Seabees load tons of rock in after it. Only the wires connecting the device to a radio firing unit on the beach gave evidence that an explosion equal to ten thousand tons of TNT was about to take place.

Rick asked, "Won't all those rocks keep the volcano from erupting?"

Hartson Brant smiled. "Rick, compared with the force of the volcano, that atomic device is like a firecracker compared with a hurricane. But even to the nuclear explosion those rocks won't mean much. They're just to confine it a little."

The night pa.s.sed. San Souci was empty of people. The Seabees were back aboard ship. The scientific instruments were in place. Only a small group of scientists remained, their helicopter standing by. They checked out the radio firing unit, threw switches according to their check list, then announced: "We're ready!"

CHAPTER XIX.

THE OLD ONE YIELDS.

RICK banked the Sky Wagon over the fleet. Scotty, in the front pa.s.senger seat, had the camera ready. Hartson Brant, in the rear seat, had a motion-picture camera poised. Governor Montoya, the fourth in the party, even had his personal camera along.

Their cameras were not the only ones. Nearly every ship had its official photographers, and there were photography planes in the air.

Directly under the Sky Wagon now was a U. S. destroyer. Aboard her was the nuclear firing party from Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory, and the UN Observer Group. On other ships of the fleet were the representatives of the interested nations and the Seabees.

Rick turned up the volume of his plane radio. By agreement, the count-down was to be broadcast to all aircraft over one of the airport frequencies.

"Thirty seconds!" the voice said.

"Won't we need dark gla.s.ses?" Scotty asked.

"No," Hartson Brant replied. "The nuclear fireball won't emerge. If it gets a little too bright, squint and turn your head."

"How long after the nuclear shot will the volcano go?" Rick asked.

"We don't know. Anywhere from seconds to hours. It depends on how much of a path the nuclear shot cracks."

"Ten seconds!"

Rick made sure they had a good view of El Viejo's western slope, and held the plane on course.

"Five, four, three, two, one ...

"Zero!"

There was an instant of quiet, then dust spurted from the deep hole, followed by billowing clouds of pulverized rock. Down below, the earth heaved as though from another earthquake, and a line of waves appeared, running from sh.o.r.e outward!

The dust settled slowly, hanging in the air like a great gray ball.

The nuclear explosion, deep underground, had gone off.

"Now what?" Rick wondered.

Hartson Brant said quietly, "We may have to wait a while."

"That explosion sure didn't look like the pictures I've seen of shots in Nevada," Rick told him.

"No, Rick. This was too far underground. They've had those in Nevada, too, but the pictures don't get much publicity because they're not spectacular."

Far below, where the end of the big hole had been, the huge chamber blown by the atomic explosion was white-hot with trapped heat and radioactivity. Below the chamber the earth was shattered, with myriad tiny cracks reaching far down.

Some cracks reached the white-hot magma. Instantly the magma exploited the new weakness, pressure was released until...

"Look!" Even in the plane Scotty's yell was loud.

Rick turned in time to see the side of El Viejo blow off in an explosion that made ten kilotons of fission seem puny indeed. For an instant he saw thousands of tons of white-hot lava rise into the air, then it fell into the sea. Instantly steam clouds blanketed the area, but the steam was mixed with traces of red and gray from the rock carried upward.

A great boulder, weighing many tons, was hurled high in the air to fall into the steam cloud. The great rift in the volcano widened, and the molten lava was visible until steam rose again.

Under the steam cloud was an inferno, but it was only occasionally visible as the wind tore rents in the vapor. The noise must be deafening, Rick knew, but only a low rumble and an occasional hissing could be heard in the plane.

"Well," Hartson Brant said wearily, "it worked."

Governor Luis Montoya spoke gently. "Yes, my friend. It did indeed work. And it has saved our island. I doubt that a single life was lost, thanks to you and your a.s.sociates."

"We'd better be sure." The scientist smiled. "Rick, suppose you fly us around the island?"

"Yes, sir." Rick instantly swung the Sky Wagon onto a northward course that would take them past the erupting volcano and on to the north. He kept well out to sea, because now and then he could see big rocks flying through the air as the volcano spouted.

Only the immediate area was affected. The new outlet was about a half mile wide, stretching from sea level and possibly below, to about a quarter mile up the slope. Beyond the crater San Luz seemed normal, although Rick knew there were no human beings in the area.

Not until he pa.s.sed Redondo did signs of life appear, and then the beach became black with people. The wave of humanity extended inward to the slopes of El Viejo and along the beach to Calor. Past Calor, at the airport, troops not needed on the perimeter waited for their planes. Already there were planes landing.

Rick completed the circuit of the island, then on impulse moved past the volcano and took a good look at where the diamond pipe had been. A momentary wind blew the area clear long enough for him to glimpse white-hot lava.

"Well," he remarked, "there go Connel's diamonds. Either buried, or burned."

"Cheer up," Scotty said with a grin. "Maybe El Viejo is making some new ones."

Governor Montoya added the final word. "I hope not. But if so, I can only hope they will not be discovered just before the next eruption!"

CHAPTER XX.

A FEW SOUVENIRS.

SAN LUZ settled back to normal in an astonishingly short time, a tribute to the calm nerves of the population. Within recorded island history, the discovery of diamonds was the sole event that seemed to have excited most of the islanders.

The troops left on MATS planes. The ships withdrew, except for two oceanographic ships sent hurriedly by Columbia University and Woods Hole Oceanographic Inst.i.tute. Aboard were not only oceanographers, but marine biologists experienced in radiation physics. They would keep track of events in the sea for many months.

The scientific population of the Hot Springs Hotel did not decrease appreciably. The combination of advance warning of eruption, a nuclear explosion, and the eruption itself provided data never before obtainable. The scientists intended to make the most of it.

The courts of San Luz went into operation again.

Guevara was charged with treason, Connel with attempted murder. The boys gave depositions-sworn testimony-to the government attorneys. But Ruiz would be his own best witness. The doctor promised that he would be able to testify by the time the case came to trial.

At a dinner for the Spindrift scientists, the governor presented certificates of appreciation to each one of the party, including the boys. Then he made a short speech.

"I could thank you, but words are inadequate in the face of the deed. An island and its people have been saved. You did this. What more is there that can be said? We will not forget. Already, with the help of my good friend Esteben Balgos, we are planning to erect a permanent volcanic observatory and laboratory in which scientists can work and learn from El Viejo. I do not ask your permission-I merely inform you that it is to be called Spindrift Memorial Laboratory."

The scientists murmured in protest, but the governor held up his hand. "I know you do not approve. I do not ask you to. It is accomplished. Also, we will have a small but imperishable plaque over the door. It will say simply: 'This laboratory is dedicated to the scientists of the Spindrift Scientific Foundation. They saved San Luz.' Your names will be listed."

The governor was adamant. He said with a twinkle that the scientists could make representations through formal diplomatic channels to the governments of Venezuela, Colombia, and Great Britain if they wished, but so far as he was concerned, the matter was closed.

It was Rick who changed the subject. He reached into his pocket and drew out the handful of diamonds that he had carried there since the day he found out what they were.

"We have to give these back," he said. "I picked them up, but we have no more right to them than Connel or Guevara. It wasn't a legal mining claim, I guess."

Governor Montoya shook his head. "Rick, who will ever know how many diamonds were found? Already I hear of several huge crystals among the people. We have confiscated several times that amount from Guevara and Connel. Should we penalize you for being honest? I think not. You found them, and in the finding you were instrumental in saving the island. They are yours."

Again the governor was adamant. He simply stated that the matter was settled, and that was that.

"Then they're not mine," Rick said finally. "They belong to all of us, share and share alike. I happened to be the one who picked them up, but we were all involved with El Viejo, so we share equally. Of course we're not sure there's anything to share. These may be only of industrial grade."

As it happened, Rick was wrong. The diamonds were, for the most part, of gem grade. Even after paying import duty, they were bought at a handsome price, uncut, by one of New York's leading diamond importers.

It was quite a handful of souvenirs, even though the proceeds were divided equally among the entire Spindrift group, including Honorario and Ruiz. Most of Rick's share went into his education fund, but he kept enough out to buy gifts for his mother, Barby, and Jan Miller. And he kept out enough to buy something he had long wanted ... something that was to lead him into another adventure-mystery, a story to be told in THE FLYING STINGAREE.

THE END.

THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN.

A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY, No. 17 BY JOHN BLAINE.