Judy Bolton Days

Judy Bolton Days
First annual in 1991!
Showing posts with label Golden Dragon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Golden Dragon. Show all posts

Thursday, June 21, 2012

RICK BRANT GOLDEN DRAGON 11


RICK BRANT GOLDEN DRAGON 11

 All chapters through chapter 11 are now available on this alternate site:

THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON https://sites.google.com/site/rickbrantfanfiction/dragon


THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON or THE SOUTH SEAS CITY OF DEATH MYSTERY

Chapter Eleven: IN THE CAVES OF WAR
     A stir of excitement crept into Rick Brant’s blood as they entered the labyrinth of caves on Coastwatchers Hill. The native boys led the way through a concrete bunker entrance, each holding a flashlight. Thrilled at the idea of such a marvelous tool, they flashed them about the cave, darting here to there as quick as lightning.

     Jimmy and Scotty followed behind them with the lanterns and Rick took up the rear, his spine tingling as he looked around in wonder.

     He had parked the jeep in a short dead end cave a couple dozen yards down the hillside, then they had stolen through the jungle bush over to this entrance which the native boys claimed led into the main chambers of the underground.

     The floor was soft with ash and it was dry and spacious within. The flashing light beams exposed the height of the walls and ceilings, which appeared to be fifteen feet or so. They were, for the most, shored up by thick wooden beams and the enhancement of the caves by the Japanese was obviously an engineering marvel. It was much cooler in the caves, but very dark. Rick wondered how the kanaka boys played inside here without light.

     A moment later his question was answered.

     The older boy, whose name they had learned was Chtupa, aimed his flashlight beam at the ground and started chattering expressively.

      “Torches!” Rick exclaimed, looking at the wooden club-like items on the floor next to a bunch of wooden crates filled with supply items.

     “They used them in here during the occupation,” Jimmy said, after Chtupa had stopped speaking. “The kids use them now. Everything they need is here – fuel, tar, pitch, wooden matches. Ha! Instant underground playground!”

     “All kids love caves,” Scotty remarked, holding his lantern high as he peered around. “And it’s roomy in here. Nice. I wonder if there are bats?”

     Jimmy asked the boys the question as they moved along and the younger boy, Butubu, answered with a waving of his arms, flashlight beam swirling crazily.

     “He says there are a lot of them,” Jimmy translated. “Hundreds. Thousands. But you don’t see them very often. There are even big furry ones, like flying foxes. Of those he is afraid.”

     Rick shuddered. “I don’t blame him. We heard about those down in New Caledonia. Let’s hope we don’t run into any!”

     The cave floor was well-trod, as if thousands of men had made their way back and forth across it. Other tunnels led off here and there, winding away into darkness, Some had stairs cut into them, leading up and down to different levels. Trash of all kinds was strewn along the way, individual pieces here and there and crates filled with it stacked haphazardly along the sides.

     “They left quite a mess,” Rick commented.

     Jimmy nodded. “There were over a hundred thousand men in these caves at the height of the occupation. It’s staggering to think how they fed them, kept them clean and safe, and doctored them. Especially when they were so cramped in here for such a long time.”

     “It had to be sheer insanity,” Scotty said. “And they probably weren’t concerned with taking proper care of anyone.” Then, raising his lantern, he added, “Lookit! We’re coming to a big cavern now.”

     The native boys’ lights showed the tunnel ending and a large cavern ahead. They quickened their pace and surged on, Chtupa and Butubu talking in excited animation. Rick realized that the young boys found no reason to be quiet in the eerie caves.

     “This is the main big cave in this area of the underground,” Jimmy told them as they stepped into it. “It must have been a command post. The boys say it’s filled with radio equipment and other electronic equipment, and lots of munitions.”

     They found this to be true as they looked around, aiming the flashlight beams and raising the lanterns. There was a central area of desks, counters and alcoves filled with radio and other electronics equipment. Desk drawers were open, some broken and hanging. Chairs were tipped over and much of the equipment was strewn around. Beyond this area was a galley with all the usual appliances and rows of tables and chairs, like a cafeteria, all of it in similar disarray.

     “You could seat several hundred people here,” Scotty said, raising his lantern high. The rows of tables seemed to go on forever.

     Rick shuddered, feeling a chill creep up his spine. He could feel the ghosts of war all around them. It boggled his mind that this underground had been teeming with such an astounding number of men caught up in the most vile of activity during the war and that now, only a few years later, it was completely empty and devoid of any kind of human activity. Just a few kids coming in now and then to play, and a crazy old man who had made it his home.

     He drew his lips into a tight line. “Tell the boys to take us to the madman’s cave.”

     Jimmy addressed the boys in their native tongue and they both responded eagerly with pidgin commands that even Scotty and Rick could understand as ‘Come this way!’ and ‘Follow me!’

     “We have to go carefully now and watch our step,” Jimmy advised, as they followed the boys to even darker regions. “They buried explosive mines in some of these caves near the end of the war in case the enemy crept in. Chtupa says that every now and then someone steps on one and sets it off, resulting in injury or death.”

     “Oh, great!” rapped Scotty with a sharp voice. “Next they’ll tell us that the place is filled with dinosaurs!”

     “So what’s one more danger?” Rick chuckled. “Just watch those big clodhopper feet of yours.”

     Scotty’s voice fell to a hissing whisper. “Don’t worry about me,” he gloated. “I learned how to do a toe dance in a minefield during the war. It’s you guys who don’t have any experience!”

     They moved on into a smaller cave that led slightly upward. Off of it were many small caves filled with caches of arms and other munitions, and what looked like aircraft parts and shipping supplies. There was an infirmary in one cave, completely set up with medical equipment and supplies, a machine shop in another, and vast areas of sleeping quarters.

     But they didn’t stop long to linger in these lonely, haunted places. They briefly checked them out and then moved on, watching their step in the booby-trapped labyrinth. At length they followed Chtupa and Butubu up a set of stairs cut into the floor of an ascending cave and they came upon a holding area, a large cavern filled with cells, some made of wood, others metal bars. The cells loomed on as far as they could see in their meager light.

     “We should have taken torches,” Scotty grunted. “This place is too big and too weird to have such little light.”

     “It’s totally creepy,” Jimmy muttered, following the young native boys down the rows of cells. “I can’t imagine being imprisoned in this horrible place!”

     “It had to be a nightmare,” Rick agreed, trying not to peer into the empty cells but unable to control his curiosity. “This place reeks of death and anguish.”

     Scotty made a sympathetic gesture. “You said it, man. It’s so thick you can cut it with a knife.”

     The native boys led them down an aisle off a row of cells and it brought them into a low-ceilinged cave with what turned out to be just one cell in it, room-sized and filled with odd pieces of furniture.

     Chtupa had quite a bit to say about it.

     “This is the old Chinese man’s house,” Jimmy said, following him. “He lives in here and it looks like he’s made it pretty comfortable.”

     They flashed their lights through the bars into the cell and the glow helped to illuminate it. Inside was a bed topped with an array of blankets, two desks, a couple chairs, and a chest-like wardrobe. The iron-barred door was ajar and Rick pulled it open, causing it to squeal loudly in the intense quiet of the caves.

     “He must have dragged all this furniture in here to have a cozy nook for himself,” Rick mused. His keen eyes gazed around as they all stepped into the cell. “Not bad considering it’s in the caves of war inside a mountain on a jungle island!”

     “Let’s look for a sign of my dad and Dr. Warren,” he added.

     Scotty opened the wardrobe and saw a few pieces of ragged clothing hanging over the bar. Below were boxes of ammunition and ammunition belts, and he eagerly picked them up exclaiming happily.

     Chtupa grabbed him by the arm and pointed to the wall next to the big chest, saying, “Coocoo man’s shootem guns belongem him!”

     Scotty moved closer to see several rifles leaning against the wall and three revolvers set on a low bench beside them.

     “All right! Found the guns and ammo, chums!” he shouted back to the others. “At least now we’ll be armed if those tong idiots try to come after us.”

     Setting his lantern on the floor, he squatted down and began inspecting the firearms.

     There was an oil lamp on one of the desks and a torch jammed into a holder on the wall. Rick sparked a wooden match and lighted them both, bathing the cell in light. The place was filled with all kinds of useless items a madman might gather, including weapons and electronics parts, journals and books, dishes, bowls, and glasses, and many items that must have been personal belongings of the soldiers. They were stacked on surfaces, shoved into overflowing boxes and crates, and leaning against the walls.

     “The old guy sure is a packrat,” Jimmy said, looking through books and journals. “These are all wartime records in Japanese. Not very interesting reading, that’s for sure.”

     “Probably the only kind of books they allowed in here,” Rick chuckled, pulling open a desk drawer. “I doubt if the Japs actually supplied their troops with a lending library.”

     He looked in all the drawers in one desk but found nothing of any interest, then hurried over to the other.

     “There must be something here somewhere to give us a clue to the old man’s identity,” he said. “Something to hook him up with Dad and Dr. Warren.”

     “No sign of a struggle in here,” Jimmy was saying. “Of course, hard to really tell, it’s such a mess. If the tong captured them in here – well, it doesn’t show. They could have come upon them anywhere in these caves.”

     Rick had been looking through the second old wooden desk but had not found anything but odds and ends office supplies and pages of correspondences that probably would have proved interesting to him had they not been in Japanese. He slammed shut the last drawer and grunted in discouragement when Butubu came over to him. The boy set his flashlight down on the desktop and said in a very proud and grand manner:

     “Watchem dis fella!”

     The boy pushed at a piece of the wooden trim along the bottom of the desk’s top where it overlapped the front, and a hidden door popped out above the row of drawers, exposing a cavity. The seam had cleverly been hidden in the scrollwork design in that area and Rick would never have noticed it without intense scrutiny.

     Butubu thrust his hand into the dark space and pulled out a bright object. Grinning widely with great importance, he displayed it to Rick in his palm.

     The boy chuckled, “Howzabouts, mon?”

     Rick gasped. Butubu held in his hand a small golden dragon similar to the one he had received in the package from the black schooner at Lateela Island. It shone warmly in the lantern glow and lights glinted and danced upon it from the flickering torch on the cave wall.

     Chtupa saw the golden dragon and scurried over to his brother, exclaiming in a know-it-all manner to Jimmy about the sudden appearing object.

     “It’s another dragon, Rick!” he cried, rushing over to look at it as Butubu proudly showed it off. “Chtupa says it belongs to the old Chinese man. He sometimes shows it to them, but always makes sure to put it back in the secret compartment afterward.”

     Rick took the dragon from the boy’s hand and turned it over in his. A flush of excitement leaped into his cheeks. “It’s exactly the same as mine! Do you know what this means, Jimmy? The old madman has got to be Johnny Fang! Who else would have one of these dragons but the leader of the tong himself who had been to the lost island and seen the treasure in person?”

     Jimmy stood there with his mouth agape. “Then it’s true. Oh man, man …. he didn’t die on Palua Pae! Somehow he survived and got off the island, took one of these dragons with him from the treasure trove.”

     Scotty had risen to his feet to watch the intense scene unfold. “Johnny Fang went nuts on that island, but got here to Rabaul somehow and came up to these caves to live. During the war he hid away in the farthest reaches of them, I’ll bet. But since then he’s taken over this cell and is not only the madman of Coastwatchers Hill, but also the king of the whole darn hill, too!”

     “And then dad and Dr. Warren came here to get him, for whatever their reason is,” Rick continued. “And they took him away with them. Or the tong followed and got them all.”

     Rick tossed the golden icon to Jimmy, who caught it firmly in hand.

     “You keep it,” he told him. “It belongs to your grandfather. Hopefully we’ll be meeting up with him soon.”

     Scotty pulled an old shirt from the wardrobe and began cleaning the guns. “Now if we only had a clue to where they went from here!”

     Rick playfully roughed up Butubu’s mop of curly hair. “I think this little guy here got that clue for us. This whole mystery started out with the golden dragon and that’s where it will end, on that lost island in that big cavern of light beyond the big golden dragon, the keeper of the treasure of Palua Pae.

     “I’m betting everything on it,” he continued resolutely. “Dad and Dr. Warren and Johnny Fang either went there on their own or they were abducted by the tong and taken there. We need to get out to that island quick. And I mean like … tomorrow!”

     “Then let’s get going,” Jimmy said, pocketing the dragon, which had caused an undercurrent of stirring emotion in him. “We can be in Storms End by morning and out to the island by late afternoon maybe, or the very next day.”

     “You mean if we can get a boat to take us out there,” Scotty reminded him.

     Jimmy grunted. “Puh! Don’t worry, we’ll get one. We could get a hundred. All I have to do is announce that I know the way to Palua Pae, and they’ll be lining up begging for the chance!”

     Just then, Chtupa grabbed Jimmy by the leg and let out a frightened whisper, pointing out the cell door down the aisleway into the large cavern.

     Everyone immediately tensed as Jimmy looked and, with a startled note in his voice, breathed a ragged, “Lights coming!”

     “Oh, cripes,” Scotty groaned. “It’s gotta be the tong guys … again!”

     Rick growled in frustration. “It’s like having monkeys on our backs!”

     They quickly turned off the lanterns and flashlights but it was impossible to put out the torch without some kind of extinguisher, and there was no time to look for one now. Several lights could be seen bobbing their way down toward them.

     Two things happened at the same time in the rush of confusion. First, Scotty threw one of the rifles at Rick who barely caught it due to the suddenness of the movement.

     “Use it,” Scotty rapped, rushing up to the front bars with a rifle of his own.” These babies are fresh and loaded!”

     And, as Rick clambered up to the front of the cell, the two native boys began jabbering excitedly and pulling at Jimmy. They literally dragged him over to the wardrobe by the cave’s wall.

     “Hey, we can get out of here!” Rick vaguely heard Jimmy hiss as he and Scotty both pulled the triggers.

    
Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

     The gunfire cracked out in high-pitched screeches and echoed wildly in the caves like booms of thunder. The lights ahead, flashlights and torches, fell to the ground. Rick heard Scotty grunt in satisfaction, then he shot a quick glance behind at Jimmy who was, along with the boys, pushing aside the wardrobe.

     “Rick! Scotty! We can get out of here. There’s a secret passage to some other caves. Come on!”

     Rick had just turned back to look out toward the big cavern when return fire rained out at them. Bullets pinged off the cave walls and nipped by in the air, one twanging as it hit an iron bar on the front of the cell. A wild roar of echoes filled the caves and Scotty stooped down, firing back.

     “They found a secret passageway”, Scotty hissed over to Rick. “Take that rifle with you and go! I’ll follow up the rear.”

     “I’m not leaving you here alone!” Rick threw back at him.

     Scotty growled. “Get your butt outta here, buddy, before I beat you over the head with this rifle’s butt!”

     “Okay! Okay!”

     Rick nerved himself for the effort of leaving Scotty behind and, clutching the rifle, swooped around to find Jimmy and the boys gone. There was a gaping dark hole in the wall where the wardrobe had stood.

     Jimmy popped his head out of the darkness. “Come on, Rick! We got the extra guns and lights. Just get that lantern there.”

     Rick bounded over, picked up the lantern by its handle, and rushed dead on into the black hole as Jimmy pressed up against the stone wall to give him room.

     “Go on,” he urged to Rick, who could see the native boys ahead with the flashlights. “I’ll get Scotty.”

     “Good luck,” Rick harrumphed, darting forward. “He probably thinks he’s still shooting at Japs!”

     He ran on toward the boys with his senses reeling. A broken cry came to his lips and he wanted to turn around and go back into the cell and fight whatever enemy was upon them. The truth struck him hard. He couldn’t bear leaving Scotty behind, facing such danger alone.

     He tried to grasp on to saner thoughts. Scotty was an experienced fighter. He had made it through the war here in the South Pacific without even being wounded.  He’d take care of himself. Meanwhile, these young boys …

     Right. He had to get them out of here to safety!

     Chtupa and Butubu were loaded down with lights and revolvers. Jimmy had to have the third rifle, and that made Rick feel a little better. But he could still hear the roar and rumble of gunfire from back in the cell, and the horror of the situation began to appall him. They could all be killed in this dark labyrinth of terror, left here to rot and none of them ever seen again!

     “Bosh!” Rick told himself out loud. “No time for that kind of thinking now!”

     In a flash he had stooped down and struck a match. He lighted the lanterns as the boys cried out and gestured forward frantically.

     “Okay. I know we gotta go. Here, give me those guns. Each of you take a lantern and a flashlight. We’ll get the heck outta here, brotha kiddos!”

     Somehow they understood him. Rick jumped back up to his feet, belted the three revolvers. He followed behind the boys as they ran ahead jabbering excitedly in their native tongue that he couldn’t understand one word of.

     The cave they were in was roomy enough but it twisted and turned like a coiled snake. It was quiet behind them now. Rick couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to stop the gunfire. Were Scotty and Jimmy out of the madman’s cell and on their way in the tunnel? Were they okay, had they been wounded? Or worse ….?

     He steeled himself again not to think about it and watched the flashlight beams and the lantern glow light up the cave ahead, wishing he knew where it led to. But if the boys had known about it, he reasoned, they must have been in it before and would know where it went. Hopefully outside and, he thought, real quick!

     A moment later he could hear running footsteps coming from behind. He turned and his heart began to hammer in anticipation. Was it Scotty and Jimmy? Was it … the tong members?

     The suspense was killing him. He followed the boys around another turning and then threw himself against the wall, rifle aimed in the ready. Chtupa and Butubu, having heard the onrushing efforts behind, followed suit and pressed back too, aiming their flashlight beams back the way they had just come, big-eyed fearful expressions on their young faces.

     The next moment, Rick let out a sigh of relief.  Scotty and Jimmy came crashing around the corner looking like a couple of French Foreign Legion gangbusters.

     “Ah … light!” Scotty cried, eyeing the flashlights and lantern greedily. “Running in a cave in the dark is not easy, chums. I ran into the wall so many times I feel like I just went ten rounds with the World Champ!”

     “Are you guys okay?” Rick asked.

     Jimmy nodded. “Not a scratch! Just a lot of bumps from bangin’ in the dark. We staved them off pretty good and were able to pull the wardrobe back in place. It might take them a few minutes to find the passage.”

     “That must be why the madman chose that cell to live in,” Scotty said, breathing heavily. “It had a secret way out.”

     “I wonder if they used it when your dad and his friend came here to see him?” Jimmy said to Rick. “It’s possible they could have escaped the tong.”

     Rick shrugged, relieved to have his friends back with him. Both okay and in one piece. “I guess we won’t know the answer to that until we meet up with them. Come on, let’s go!”

     Chtupa and Butubu had been nervously standing by during this exchange and Jimmy, after taking one of their flashlights, helped them lead the way again down the twists and turns.

     “This cave leads to a big cavern,” Jimmy said after conversing with the boys a couple minutes. “These kids have been there only once, the day the old man showed them the trolley and gave them a ride. That cave leads outside nearby where we parked the jeep.”

     “Perfect!” Rick cheered. “Great! We can jump in the jeep and get the heck out of here.”

     “The trolleys must’ve been used to haul stuff in and out of here,” Scotty reasoned. “What a production, building an underground like this!”

     “It was nothing to the Japanese,” Jimmy said. “Remember, they wanted to take over the whole world. It was utterly mad, the idea. But digging these caves was part of the plan and served its purpose.”

     They rounded another corner and then the native boys stopped dead, looking ahead at two branching tunnels and making cries of consternation.

     Jimmy groaned. “They don’t remember which way to go!”

     He questioned them as they all stood there uncertainly, but the boys could do little more than fidget nervously and groan in confusion.

     Jimmy shrugged as he turned back to Rick and Scotty. “Sorry, they just don’t remember.”

     Rick grunted, He looked back behind them and then he heard the dread noise he’d been listening for the last few minutes – angry voices and running footsteps. He moved ahead of the others and took the flashlight from Chtupa. “Those guys are coming after us. We’ve got to make a choice. I’ll do it! Let’s take the cave on the left!”

     A moment later they were rushing down the passage, all in a frenzy now, hoping they had chosen the right way and that the tong hoodlums would take the other way and not catch up with them.

     It was like rushing headlong into some strange surreal nightmare. The flashlight beams zigzagged about like lightning strikes, the glowing orbs from the lanterns swayed in big circles up and around the cave walls. Suddenly the grade began to ascend and then turned into steps cut into the stone, and all five of them were huffing and puffing as they clambered upward, ears straining to listen for noise from behind.

     Chtupa began to wail and grabbed Jimmy by the arm, a flood of words bursting from him in agonizing distress.

     “Darn it!” Jimmy let out. “He doesn’t remember stairs! The way the madman took them was all flat, he says. No up and no down!”

     Rick felt a sickening sense of disappointment. His voice hardened as he spoke. “We went the wrong way! Too late now to turn back. We’ll just have to follow this route and see where it takes us.”

     Still in the lead, he reached what appeared to be a top step and flashed his light ahead to see a vague murkiness. He stepped tentatively forward, to see if the ground was solid beneath his feet, and the others crowded up behind him, lanterns and flashlights lighting up the space before them.

     “It must be a really big cavern,” Scotty whispered as the lights darted about. “You can’t see any walls or ceiling.”

     And then, a roar came from up above like sudden thunder. A thousand screeching, crying voices descended upon them accompanied by a beating of wings that struck chills up and down their spines as they gaped above in horror.

     Like a thick cloud falling heavily from the sky, it was suddenly upon them. Dozens, scores, hundreds of beating wings, glistening gleaming eyes, open mouths with jagged fang-like teeth, all harshly profiled in horror by the flickering lights.

     Chtupa and Butubu started screaming and the older boys’ shouts weren’t far from different as they all cowered and stooped and swung and cried out at the flying menace from the unfathomable heights of the cavern.

     “Bats!” Scotty shouted, flailing at them with his rifle. “There must be thousands of them!”

     “They’re monsters, big as small dogs!” Rick yelled. “Jeez! Big and ugly and …. furry!”

     “The flying foxes!” Jimmy cried out, trying to protect Chtupa and Butubu as he himself was being attacked by several of the crazed beasts.

     Rick was gasping, half stupefied from this latest horror. He fell down to one knee and raised his rifle into the air, claws and beating wings and screeching cries all around him.

     “Cower down! I’m shooting!”

     He cried it out and let go a barrage of fire that echoed down upon them like pulsating thunder and caused the beating of wings and snapping of jaws and banshee cries to increase even more. The noise only served to frighten the already crazed monster bats.

     But they did rise up above the boys a little in their terror, and Scotty and Jimmy rushed from behind, grabbing Rick and the younger boys and pulling them on ahead. They ran and stumbled on, trying to direct the lights and find a way out of this cave from hell without tripping and falling down.

     “Good thinking, Rick,” Scotty grunted. “That scared them off a bit, those suckers! What a bunch of ugly customers!”

     “A bunch?” Rick let out a nervous laugh. “If there’s one, there’s a darn million! Oh, cripes now, Scotty. They’re comin’ back down!”

     “Jimmy, you go ahead with the kids,” Scotty shouted. “Rick and I will shoot up these creepy flying French poodles!”

     “They’re a heck of a lot uglier than that,” Rick snapped, dropping down to a shooting position. He forced a laugh. “And there ain’t nothin’ French that’s ugly like these things are!”

     Scotty dropped down next to him. “You’re right! Flying New Guinea poodles, then. I wish I could shoot every darn one of them down into a nice big pile!”

     In unison their rifles cracked numerous times, the loud reports echoing and reverberating throughout the big dark cavern. The big bats screeched and cried and beat their way back upward to the dark depths. Rick and Scotty then swooped around and began running stooped over toward the lights, now about thirty feet away. They caught up with Jimmy and the boys as they were running into a smaller cave that branched off ahead from the murky cavern.

     “Whew!” Rick wanted to lean against the wall for a breather but he didn’t dare stop. “Those hairy things are awful!”

     “You bet!” Jimmy tossed back. “And they bite, too. Vampire bats! They like to get your blood.”

     “Yechhhh!” Scotty made a sound of disgust. “Anybody get bitten?”

     But, fortunately, no one had, and they hurried on ahead, lights flashing to lead the way. Suddenly from behind, they heard shouts and yells coming from the big cavern, then gunfire, as if in a repeat performance of what they had just gone through in there themselves.

     “The tong!” Rick exclaimed. “They’re right behind us. Now it’s their turn with those bats!”

     “Come on, let’s vamanoose!” Scotty commanded, running ahead to take the lead. “Those suckers will be on top of us in a minute or two. Let’s get …”

     Scotty’ mouth dropped open as the lights began to shine ahead on objects that seemed to be floating in mid-air.

     “Hey, slow down, everybody,” he muttered, barring the way as he grabbed the lantern Chtupa was carrying. “What in the crazy heck is that up ahead?”

     He raised the lantern and stepped slowly on. The light glinted off of what looked like white sticks suspended weirdly in the air about twenty feet ahead.

     “What are they?” Rick wondered, following behind and squinting his eyes in an attempt to see better.

     “There’s more on the ground, too,” Jimmy pointed out as the cave broadened on each side. “Piles of them. White sticks … or tubes … or …”

     “Bones!” Rick gasped.

     Little Butubu screamed as they all realized at the same moment what was up ahead, and Chtupa shouted:

     “Dem bones! Dem bones! Skelton fella. Lots much!”

     Like a blurry picture suddenly coming into focus, they could now see the horror this cave was filled with. Skeletons. Hundreds and hundreds of them as far as the eye could see. They were hanging from the ceiling in rows and rows with bent broken necks. They were piled on the ground along the sides in huge rolling mounds.

     Astonished, they stopped dead in their tracks and gaped ahead,

     “Oh man, Scotty,” Rick said, feeling as if he’d just had the breath knocked out of him. “I think we just found all those prisoners of war that never made it back home to America from the war here in the South Pacific!”
    
    
    
     Chapter 12 to come soon!
    
    
    
    

Friday, January 27, 2012

RICK BRANT GOLDEN DRAGON 10

 All chapters through chapter 10 are now available on this alternate site:

THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON https://sites.google.com/site/rickbrantfanfiction/dragon


THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGONor THE SOUTH SEAS CITY OF DEATH MYSTERY

Chapter Ten: LOOKOUT OVER VULCAN

“I just don’t get it,” Scotty complained as he and Rick hoofed it up Causarina Avenue back out in the heat of the sun and the busy Rabaul traffic.

“That Chinese man was just too informative,” he went on. “We just walked right in there and found out everything we wanted to know. It was way darn heck too easy! It just doesn’t set right with me.”

Rick punched him playfully on the arm. “Relax. We can’t be distrustful of all the Chinese people we run into.”

“Why not?” Scotty wanted to know. “They all act suspiciously, if you ask me. For all we know, that Mr. Wong could be a member of the tong!”

“Come on now,” Rick cajoled him. “They’re not all bad. You know that. Jimmy is part Chinese.”


Scotty glowered at him. “Right. From his grandfather. And he was the leader of the tong!”

“Don’t be so worried,” Rick warned. “As long as we’re on Dad’s trail, that’s all that matters. We’ll handle any complications as they come.”

Scotty snorted and forced a grin. “Yah, like we always do.”

They turned west on Papua Street and walked down toward the Chinatown area. The attractive government offices and commercial establishments gave way to more utilitarian-looking buildings as they approached the Oriental neighborhood, and the people in the street all but assumed the look of the Chinese.

There were few of the dark-skinned natives here. Most of those milling about were young men dressed fashionably in the white tropical suits, dark hair slicked back and eyes slanted. There were white men, from Europe, Australia, and America, rough-looking characters, unshaven, with holstered guns swagging their hips and brimmed pith helmets and fedoras shading their eyes. They busily moved about the sidewalks in front of the shops whose windows were filled with displays of goods from all over Asia and the islands. Rick couldn’t help but wonder where they were all going, what they were all doing.

“Those fellows must be the gold seekers and adventurers,” Scotty said, as if in answer to Rick’s thoughts. He chuckled. “They probably all come to Chinatown because the food is so good.”

“And the rates cheaper,” Rick added, pointing to a big wood frame hotel on the next corner. “Look, there’s Ho Wah’s Hotel. Big place, huh? I bet rooms there are cheaper than at the European Hotel.”

“And there’s Jimmy,” Scotty jerked his chin ahead. “He’s got a jeep. Sure looks like it’s been through a war.”

Rick began to laugh. “Right. The same one you went through.”

Scotty grunted. “But I don’t look that bad!”

Rick grinned at him. “If you’d had to carry around all the Japs that thing did, you’d look every bit as bad.”

The boys crossed the street in the din of the traffic, voices, clangs and whistles, and above it all the constant beating of the drums from up in the hills. They walked over to Jimmy who was leaning against the beat-up vehicle by the curb in front of the hotel.

“It’s a war relic,” their kanaka friend said, as if they’d had no idea it was. He stepped aside so they could view it better.

The vehicle was painted a drab military green, had no top or front windshield, and the seats were covered with worn upholstery that certainly would not be very comfortable sitting on while driving on bumpy mountain roads.

Jimmy handed Rick some bills and a receipt. He pointed across the street. “I got it at that garage, cheap. Doesn’t look like much but it drives good.  I just took it for a few minutes spin around town. We can drop it off at an associate garage in Storms End.”

“Looks great. Just so it gets us around,” Rick agreed, then went on to tell him what he and Scotty had learned at the European Hotel.

“Wow!” Jimmy’s eyes widened with excitement. “The madman of Coastwatchers Hill? A legendary old Chinese man? This sure sounds mysterious, fellas. I’ve always wanted to see those caves up there and I guess that’s where we’re bound, huh? Do you have any idea why your dad would want to find this crazy man, Rick?”

“Not any more than I knew why he wanted to find your grandmother.” Rick shrugged. “But we found out the reason for that, didn’t we? And I’m supposing we’ll find out the reason behind this, too.”

“It’s part of the mystery,” Scotty said. “Just like your Grandma Sal is, Jimmy. An old American lady on Lateela, now it’s an old Chinese man here at Rabaul. Could be someone she knew back then … when … she …”

Scotty words had faltered, then he clamped his mouth shut as their three sets of eyes locked together with anxious expressions. For a full half-minute they were speechless. Then, his voice strained and heavy, Jimmy blurted:
“No, it can’t be. He’s dead!”

Rick let out an excited breath. “Of course! I hadn’t thought of it. Johnny Fang! Your grandfather. What if it’s him?”

“But it can’t be, Rick,” Scotty interposed before Jimmy could answer. “He died on Palua Pae.”

“Did he?” Rick wondered aloud, his heart suddenly beginning to thump a tattoo in beat to the jungle drums up in the hills. “Jimmy, did Grandma Sal actually see Johnny Fang die?”

Jimmy was standing there with his mouth agape, and Rick and Scotty saw a shudder run through him. He drew in a deep breath. “Man, this is too weird to even think about! Grandma Sal saw him disappear. Like into thin air by the glaring light in the middle of that cavern. Gosh, fellas, do you think …?” 

He looked at Rick and Scotty with an agonizing wonder, adding, “Do you think maybe he didn’t die?”

“And somehow ended up here in those Japanese caves … a madman?” Rick concluded for him. “You bet I do, Jimmy. What other old Chinese man could it be, connected with your grandmother and the mystery of Palua Pae? And isn’t this port the first stop after that lost island?”

Scotty nodded. “Right, Rick. It’s where the boat that picked up Grandma Sal first put in. Could be that Johnny Fang survived and got picked up too and taken here. Then went up to live in the caves, a madman because of what happened to him in that cave of light.”

Jimmy leaned against the jeep, an astounded expression on his face. “I don’t believe it! Man, all these years I thought he was dead. Say it is him, Rick. How would your dad know to look for him? And to look for him here in Rabaul?”

“How did he know to look for your grandmother on Lateela Island?” Rick countered. “My dad and Dr. Warren have information we can only guess at. Somebody else knows what happened on Palua Pae when Shanghai Sal and Johnny Fang were there. And whoever they are, they told the United Nations because they’ve got Dad and Dr. Warren out here tracking it all down.”

Scotty grunted. “And told us they were checking out coconuts!”

Jimmy turned away from them and the boys could see he was deeply moved as he gazed up at the hills beyond Vulcan.

He sighed. “And what the heck is it that they’re tracking down? Man, like the United Nations! Scientists! And right after the biggest war the world has ever known. It’s just got to be so big, so important. I can’t believe that my family is involved in something so big and … international … and mysterious!”

Just then a swelling of the murmur of the crowd rose up around them and a buzz in the sky above caused them to turn their heads and look up.

“Hey, it’s Pocka!” Rick exclaimed, pointing above at the familiar onrushing Dragon which seemed to be bearing down right on Chinatown.

“Oh no!” Scotty blurted. “I thought we left that guy behind us.”

“Ha!” Jimmy laughed. “No way behind us. He’ll be on top of us in a second!”

As the people on the street all stopped to look up at the approaching biplane, its pilot pulled up short and roared straight up into the sky in a twisting spiral directly above Ho Wah’s Hotel. The noise of the crowd swelled and cheers broke out in appreciation of the daredevil stunt.

Rick shot a clenched fist up into the air, shouting, “Go, Pocka! Do your stuff!”

A Chinese woman who had stopped next to the jeep to watch the airplane looked at them with an excited smile.

“You know Pocka Poco?” she asked with a laughing lilt.

“Darn right we do!” Scotty answered. “He flew us here earlier today. We were just on that very airplane.”

“Oh, me never go on it,” the woman said, gaping back up high into the sky. “I afraid! But he always do tricks for Chinatown when he fly away!”

“Sounds like Pocka,” Jimmy grinned, watching the Dragon as it shot up so high it seemed like they wouldn’t been able to see it anymore.

But just in time, while they could still see it, the plane leveled off into a quick rollover and then shot back down straight at them, whirling in a hurricane-speed death spiral right at the center of Chinatown.

“Whoaaa … oaaa, Pocka!” Rick boomed out, as the excited crowd clapped and cheered.

“Yow! He’s gonna crash right into the hotel,” Jimmy groaned. “How can he do these crazy stunts and stay in one piece?”

“He’ll level out right at the psychological moment,” Scotty told them. “You wait. Just when we can’t stand it anymore.”

Some of the crowd were shouting and screaming now, afraid the pilot might not be able to stop, others were pointing and laughing for they’d seen this done before and knew it would come to no harm.

When it seemed that the pilot could go no further in the spinning spiral, he did go farther, and the crowd sucked in a collective “Oooh!” and held its breath. Rick was clenching his fists so hard he could feel his nails biting into his palms.

“Come on, Pocka,” he groaned. “Level off, man. You’ll crash!”

Scotty slapped the hood of the jeep. “Yo, Jack! Stop it! Straighten out! Now!”

And then, with a huge whoosh, when it seemed like there wasn’t a second left and that the Dragon would surely crash right into the hotel, the pilot swooped straight and did a series of zigzags and hops while the crowd applauded and cheered until the plane disappeared into the distance.

“He crazy man!” the Chinese woman said to the boys after letting go a long breath she’d been holding. Then she bowed slightly and, with a smile, walked on.

“Crazy as a mad kangaroo,” Jimmy grunted in agreement. “Remind me never to go on a flight with that guy again!”

Scotty nodded eagerly. “You bet. Once was totally enough for me too!”

Rick watched as the crowd began to move on and the people went back to what they had been doing. “He wouldn’t be able to do that back home in the States,” he said thoughtfully. “There must be little, if any, aviation regulations here.”

“Probably none, not yet,” Jimmy said, leaning back against the jeep. “We’ve only had planes around here in New Guinea on a regular basis since the war.” His mouth set in a firm straight line as his face grew serious. “So what do you guys say? Shall we eat lunch and clean up or should we go right on up to Coastwatchers Hill? We can get food and a shower-bath at Ho Wah’s.”

Rick shrugged his shoulders. “We sure could use a clean-up and food sounds good. But I’m really anxious to get up into those caves.”

“Do you think Dad and Dr. Warren could still be there?” Scotty asked.

“Maybe. How can you even take a guess? We’re so in the dark about all of this. I just think it’s best to follow up this lead as quickly as possible.”

“We can get food to-go at Ho Wah’s,” Jimmy suggested, “and catch up with cleaning up as we go along.”

“Good idea,” Scotty grinned in agreement, adding, “Especially that food to-go!”


The boys swung into action and went into the hotel where they ordered the food and freshened up in the rest room as best they could. They brushed their teeth, took their quinine pills for the day, gazed longingly at the shower-bath room available, but knew they just didn’t have the time. On the way out, after picking up the food order, Jimmy bought a local English language newspaper, and then they went a few doors down the street to an outfitters where they bought a couple lanterns and an extra flashlight to use in the caves.

They stopped next at a filling station on the way out of town for instructions, and Rick got a map and a tourist brochure as Jimmy filled the tank and Scotty pretended to wash the front windshield that wasn’t there.

As Jimmy drove up Tunnel Hill Road, Rick could tell that Scotty was still annoyed. He was suspicious of everything and everybody, and rightly so, Rick figured. He was too. But as long as they were moving ahead on the trail of his dad, he just wasn’t going to worry about it. Not now when maintaining some kind of clarity of mind was so important.

The jungle foliage closed in around them as they drove up switchbacks to the higher elevations. Here and there open areas offered views of nearby Vulcan, smoking away and looking close enough to touch. The volcano was mostly barren, covered with ash and having only patches of the jungle growth. Beyond it were glimpses of the harbor and the other volcanoes, the wide cloudless blue sky, and the sparkling waters of the Bismarck Straits.


Signs in English and the native language pointed the way upward to Coastwatchers Hill. The jeep bounced along the bumpy dirt road. It was uncomfortable riding but the engine purred smoothly as if it was brand new. Scotty couldn’t help wondering about the Japanese soldiers and how many of them might have ridden in the jeep during the war.

Soon they were up to the high ridges and the road ended at a large level area, a ragged field overlooking the massive cone of Vulcan with its gushing plume of smoke and ash.

“Nice view,” Scotty commented, as Jimmy pulled the jeep to a stop next to two big artillery guns near the cliff edge of the clearing.

“This is the coastwatchers lookout,” Rick said, reading from the brochure. “It was the headquarters area for the Japanese military and entranceway into the tunnels.” He pointed ahead out past the harbor. “Those islands out there in the straits are the Duke of York Islands and, on a clear day sometimes, you can see the shores of New Ireland across the way.”

Scotty grimaced, squinting his eyes to look at the islands ahead and search for a distant shore beyond. “That’s another thing about this whole place New Guinea. It’s all a tropical jungle filled with natives, and some of them pretty darn primitive. But all the important place names are European – British and Dutch and German. It’s like some kind of strange oooh-blah-dee land. Nothing jives right. Why aren’t these people here in control of their own lands?”

“It’s ‘empire’, Scotty,” Jimmy said, turning off the engine. “The Germans and Dutch and British came out this way for conquest. The Portuguese, too, and the French in many places, the Spanish up in the Philippines. Heck, it was easy for them to beat down the uncivilized natives and take over.

“But it’s getting better,” he went on, standing up to peer out at the vista and get a better view. The breeze began to ruffle through his curly blond hair. “Someday New Guinea will be free and its people their own masters. Australia will let us go. But the way it is now, we still need her. Papuans have a long way to go yet before they can control their own destiny.”

“And maybe you’ll be president one day,” Rick suggested with a chuckle. “Scotty and I will come out here twenty years from now and visit you at the presidential mansion.”

Jimmy looked thoughtful as he scrutinized the smoldering cone of Vulcan. “Give me thirty years,” he laughed. “If I decide to go into politics I want to have some fun first!”


Rick climbed out and was inspecting the big guns, glancing back and forth at the brochure in his hand. “This is a pair of Japanese anti-aircraft guns,” he told the others. “Seventy-five millimeter ones. And there’s another.” He pointed down the cliff edge about fifty feet away. “That one there, it’s twenty-five millimeter. And some others … those!” He gestured to the hillside behind where two big guns rested right at the edge of the bush. “Those must be the anti-tank guns. They’re different.”

“There is supposed to be a lot of munitions around here,” Jimmy said, jumping to the ground. “The caves are loaded with all kinds of stuff.”

Scotty swung his legs over the side and joined them on the mud-packed grass. “Good! Maybe we can find some arms to take with us on the way to Storms End.”

He cocked his head to listen to the sound of the drums coming from the hills behind. “This is starting to spook me out, boys. Here we are in New Britain listening to jungle drums, gazing into a volcano while on our way to Japanese caves! It’s totally weirdsville, guys. We need some guns!”

Rick laughed and punched his arm. “What you need is some food, buster. You can really get far out and grumpy when you’re hungry.” He reached into the jeep and pulled out the big paper sack holding the Chinese food from Ho Wah’s. “Here. Eat! You’ll feel better.”

Scotty took the bag from Rick. “Darn right I will! Man, this stuff smells great,” he grinned, sniffing at it. “Good enough to make us all turn Chinese.” He chuckled, glancing quickly at Jimmy. “Cripes, you’re already halfway there!”

Jimmy grinned happily back. “One quarter, Scotty. Not half. I’m half kanaka from my dad. One quarter American from Grandma Sal and one quarter Chinese from Johnny Fang.”

Rick turned to look at the hillside where the entrances to the caves were hidden behind the jungle growth.

“Johnny Fang!” he grunted. “Let’s eat, boys. Then we can go into those caves and see if we can find that mad old Chinaman. He may just be the key to this whole crazy mystery!"

The boys sat down at the edge of the cliff and attacked the containers of food. Their appetites were hardy; they hadn’t eaten since early morning and it was already past lunchtime. They admired the view and discussed all the strange aspects of the case as they devoured eggrolls, fried rice, lemon chicken, pepper steak, and paper cups of tea packed nicely for them in a bottle.

A few minutes into the meal and they were already all three feeling better. The delicious rich and salty food was just what they needed to charge them up from the stress of the long night, the escape from the pirates, and the wild daredevil flight to Rabaul.

Presently Rick noticed a couple native boys watching them from the bush. All he could see was their dark faces and wide eyes, and he suspected they were far more interested in the food they were eating than in them themselves.

He gestured toward the boys. “Jimmy, tell those kids to come over. Maybe we can learn something from them.”

“Yeah, they might know the madman if they hang around up here,” Scotty figured.

Jimmy stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled at the boys across the clearing. Then he gestured for them to come over. They edged out of the foliage into the sunlight and looked over at the boys warily. They were dressed only in ragged short pants, with no shirts and no shoes. One was tall and appeared to be a teenager. The other was short and younger, maybe nine or ten years old.

“Brotha! Brotha!” Jimmy called, gesturing again with his arm. “Cumalong dis place. Dis fellas heah hokay!”

The two boys smiled tentatively after hearing that and began to run across the clearing.

“They seem to understand that jive,” Scotty grinned.

“All the kids know pidgin now,” Jimmy explained. “At least one of the several forms of it. Even kids from the jungle villages. It’s been around for ages now and was especially used a lot in the years between the two great wars.”

The native boys ran up and stopped at the cliff edge near the boys, grinning eagerly as they looked hungrily at the food. They both had mops of curly dark hair and the taller one was skinny, but they both looked well fed enough.

Rick told Jimmy, “Ask them if they’re hungry.”

Jimmy grinned back at the smiling boys. “Brotha! Brotha!” he addressed them again, then rattled off a chain of words in the local kanaka tongue.

The tall one responded and the younger boy looked on eagerly and a conversation ensued with lightning quick dialogue that sounded like a lot of mumbo jumbo to Rick and Scotty.

“Yes, they are very hungry,” Jimmy explained at length. “They live in a village beyond this mountain and often come up to play in the caves. They smelled the food and were spying on us, hungry for some.”

“They can have the rest of it,” Scotty said. “We’ve had our fill. There is plenty left over.”

“Right,” Rick agreed. “Tell them to sit down and eat. We can ask them about the caves. If they play in there, they ought to know a lot about them.”

Jimmy translated and the boys sat down excitedly and assaulted the cartons of food as Rick and Scotty passed them over. They ate with their hands, quickly and neatly as could be expected, and they gulped down the tea that Scotty poured for them in the paper cups.

Rick grinned as he watched them. “Barefoot and hungry,” he laughed. “Ask them what they know about the caves, Jimmy. And the madman, too.”

Jimmy rattled off another barrage of expressive syllables and both boys nodded and laughed in high pitched cackles. Then the older boy pointed back to the hillside and said, “You betch’um! Cuckoo nut Chinaman dem Jap caves belongem!” Then he reverted to kanaka to tell Jimmy even more.

When the boy stopped speaking, Jimmy turned to Rick and Scotty. “They play in the caves all the time and know them well. The madman lives in there. As long as they can remember, he’s been in there, and the old folks say he’s been living here from many years ago before that.

“But,” Jimmy went on, frowning a little, “they haven’t seen him in a few days and were just now in the caves looking around for him. They are brothers and sometimes their mother sends them over with food for the old Chinese man. It appears that the village people kind of look after him.”

Rick’s brows began to furrow. “Ask when the last time they saw him was.”

The question was fielded and Jimmy translated the energetic response. “They saw him five days ago, having brought him a bowl of optaki their mother made. He was very happy to receive the food and as a reward showed the boys a trolley system in the caves with tracks and cables and pushed them for a ride in a car. But since then he has not been in his cave or anywhere in the tunnels. At least, they haven’t seen him.”

Rick looked at Scotty, slowly shaking his head. “He’s been gone since the day Dad and Dr. Warren came up here. What do you make of it?”

Scotty pondered for a minute, tossing a stone over the cliff. Then he shrugged. “Hopefully it means they found the old man and took him along with them wherever they were headed.” He turned to Jimmy, his lips pressed tightly together in thought. “Ask them if they saw two white men around here, Rick’s dad and Dr. Warren.”

Both boys jibber-jabbered in length in answer to the question. Afterward, Jimmy looked at Rick and Scotty with a grim expression. “They were not here that day. But other boys from the village had come up and they saw several vehicles drive into this field and park. Small trucks and a jeep. A bunch of young Chinese men jumped out and ran into the caves, all of them bearing guns. The boys were so frightened that they all ran back home to the village.”

Rick looked at the two dark-skinned boys still happily eating the Chinese food. He groaned. “That sure doesn’t sound good! My dad and Dr. Warren come up here and then follows a band of Chinese … mercenaries?”

“Or maybe pirates or tong members? One and the same,” Scotty huffed. He looked angrily back at the road they had come up on, adding, “Mr. Wong from the European Hotel sent Dad and Dr. Warren up here, and then maybe he called the chink gunmen to go up after them? I didn’t trust that guy from the moment I first saw him! And now he sent us up here! Those slant-eyed eggheads might be on their way up right now to get us!”

He clamped his mouth shut abruptly, looking at Jimmy. “Sorry, bud. Didn’t mean to offend you about the slanted eyes.”

Jimmy looked at him and laughed. “Scotty, you couldn’t offend me if you tried. Because if you did, I’d have to beat you up really bad. And I like you too much to do that!”

Scotty made a sour face and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Jimmy Tomato. I might have to pick you up and throw you over into Vulcan’s cone!”

Rick scrambled to his feet and got between the two of them. “Knock it off, tough guys. We have a whole lot more to worry about than which one of you bozos can do the worst damage.”

He shot a quick glance at Jimmy. “Ask those kids if anything’s been amiss at the old man’s cave since he’s been gone. Anything missing? Maybe signs of a struggle?”

Jimmy questioned the boys and they chatted noisily, shaking their heads in the universal sign of No.

“Everything is the same,” Jimmy explained. “His food supplies and clothes are still there, and his guns and ammunition.”

“Guns? Ammo?” Scotty’s eyes widened at that. “We’d better vamanoose to that cave and arm ourselves before the tong boys come up here after us.”

“Exactly what I’m thinking,” Rick agreed. “The madman will have done us at least some good if we can get his guns.”

Scotty pushed himself to his feet. “What I don’t get,” he was saying, “is why the madman is just a legend down in town. But up here in the hills everyone seems to know him and they even bring him food, as if he was just the old man next door!”

“It’s two different worlds, Scotty,” Jimmy said as he got up. “The people down in Rabaul are far more civilized than the tribal people in these mountains. Naturally they don’t believe a lot of the strange tales they hear from them.”

The kanaka boys had finished up the food and Rick began picking up the cartons and wrappings and placing them in the paper sack Scotty held open for him.

Rick said, “Ask these boys if they’ll show us the way to the old man’s cave.”

After being questioned, the boys readily agreed and got to their feet with happy smiling faces, having partaken in a food feast they’d never known the likes of before. After they had cleaned up the site, Scotty put the refuse in the back of the jeep.

“Should we hide this vehicle in case our tong pirate chums come looking for us?” he asked.

“That’s a good idea. We’d better,” Rick agreed.

The taller native boy started jabbering excitedly, having been watching them closely.


“Smart kid,” Jimmy said. “He understood that. He says there’s a short dead-end cave right up in the bush we can park it in. Come on. Let’s get going!”

“You bet!” Rick jumped into the jeep to drive it across the lookout field as Scotty and Jimmy and the boys hoofed it over to the bush. He followed closely behind them, an eager thrill coursing through him in anticipation of what lay ahead in the caves.

He didn’t expect to find his dad and Dr. Warren there, or the old Chinese man. No, from what they’d heard from the native boys it seemed like they were gone, maybe on their own or more probably captured. But he did hope to find some kind of clue as to what had happened, where they may have gone, or where they may have been taken!


Chapter Eleven coming soon!



Sunday, January 15, 2012

RICK BRANT GOLDEN DRAGON 9

All chapters through chapter 9 are now available on this alternate site:

THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON https://sites.google.com/site/rickbrantfanfiction/dragon


THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON
or THE SOUTH SEAS CITY OF DEATH MYSTERY

A Rick Brant fan-written adventure from 1959, a sequel to The Phantom Shark.
To get all the chapters, click on 'Golden Dragon' under Labels on side panel.



Chapter Nine: THE MADMAN OF COASTWATCHERS HILL

 

South of the equator and north of Australia is the land of New Guinea, vaguely known around the world as the land of the headhunter and the missionary, the coconut plantations and steaming jungles, and nearly inaccessible mountain goldfields that attract not only gold seekers but also thieves, cutthroats, and all extreme and fanatical adventurers alike.

Rick Brant knew that before the First World War the islands had belonged to Germany and were known as the Bismarck Archipelago. After Germany’s defeat in that war, the land was given to Australia to govern as a 'mandated territory'.  Rabaul, the capital, had been a pivotal location in the recent Second World War. Occupied early on by the Japanese, tens of thousands of enemy troops and Allied prisoners of war had been present there. Not only was the town a constant destination for seekers of thrills and adventure of all kinds, but it also had proved historically important in the winning of world freedom from the aggressive governments that would have enslaved so many.

Rick tensed now as Pocka banked the Dragon and headed down toward the big bay off which lay the landlocked harbor guarded by the volcanoes and the forbidding background mountain ranges. He could see schooners, freighters, fishing trawlers and luggers, and even native outriggers as they moved through the aquamarine waters to and fro from the wharves and piers on the quay below the town. He suddenly realized that the airplane was heading directly toward the volcano that Jimmy had called Vulcan. The mountain’s monstrous plume of smoke and ash was billowing straight up into the sunny blue sky.

"Whoa ... Pocka!" Rick blurted out. "Don't go flying us into that volcano now!"

"Doncha worry, Jack!" the pilot shouted above the roar of the engine. "Just a little look-see, boys!"

"Wow!" Jimmy exclaimed, leaning over Rick to look out the port side window. "Vulcan is really blowin' his top today!"

The plane raced down toward the mountain as if Pocka were going to attack it. Vulcan's slopes were all of a dull brownish gray, probably leagues deep with ash, Rick figured. Banking even more steeply, the Dragon flew right to the rim of the volcano's pit.

"Yowzuz!" Scotty chuckled uneasily, peering into the very center as the plane wing-hopped the rim. "There's the fires of Hades, right down in there, chums!"

Rick caught a quick glimpse of what looked like 'fire and brimstone' before Vulcan's thundering plume got in the way and Pocka had to level off and fly outward to escape its massive width.

Then the Dragon shot across the harbor entrance and Pocka boomed, "Hey, you blighters! How about a couple rollovers on the way to Tavurver?"

"No way!" Jimmy exploded.

"You said more trick flying!" Rick reminded him.

"Nixit, buster! We've had enough," Scotty said in growling tones, leaning forward.

"Okay, okay," Pocka laughed, acing right straight down now at the smoking Tavurver. “No rollovers. Just a hop, a skip, and a jump!"

Then, before the boys even knew what was happening, the plane seemingly fell straight down with a mighty whoosh, banged hard as if it had hit a rock bottom, bopped back up high with a soaring climb, fell again in the same manner and then banked sharply as the boys all shouted and yelled and Pocka laughed at them.

"Sheez!" Rick couldn't help but start laughing too, even though every joint in his body felt like it had just been jarred loose. "Man, that was like a bucking bronco!"

Jimmy's eyes were wide with disbelief. "I thought the plane was gonna break in half!"

"The pilot is gonna get broke in half!" Scotty jeered, but a twinkling in his eyes belied his tone.

Pocka turned back to look at them with another wolfish grin. "Just a little dip into Tavurver, boys, and then I'll put a freeze on it."

And with that, he turned back to face the looming volcano and shot the plane down at its rim. The boys all pushed back, teeth gritting, hands gripping the arm rests, as the Dragon flew into the volcano, down past the rim and into its monstrous fiery pit.

Rick saw them engulfed by flaming light and shadow as the plane circled the mountain's interior, barely missing the billowing smoke rising from the cauldron below.

"Awesome ...," he heard Jimmy breathe, amazed, thrilled, frightened.

Scotty gaped around at the flickering flaming darkness, for once in his life totally speechless.

Rick's heart was thumping from the brazen danger and terror of flying into an active volcano and, too, from the absolute mind-boggling thrill of it!

"Way to go, Pocka!" he heard himself gush enthusiastically. "This is a total killer diller!"

Pocka kept on chuckling. "I knew I could get you to squeal happy. Whammo!"

And with that, he hugged the Dragon close to the shaft of hot billowing ash and flew circling around it up and out of the cone into the blue sunny daylight. As the plume widened even further, he flew off away from it and over the tops of the other volcanoes that surrounded the harbor.

Rick, Scotty, and Jimmy exchanged glances, grinning at each other.

Scotty shrugged his shoulders. “He's a one-man airshow!"

Jimmy pulled at his restraining safety belt. "With a really captive audience."

Rick felt himself still tingling all all over. "He takes really reckless chances. But I sure have to give him a big tip for that inside-the-volcano dip!"

Pocka's voice clapped out as the Dragon shot downward. "Rabaul town, dead ahead!"

The plane zoomed down so fast it took the little that was left of their breath away, and Pocka tree-topped right over the town seemingly so close they could almost touch the coconut palms. Over the quay and wharves the Dragon flew, out to the waters of the harbor, close enough to see the eyes of the people below. He flew circles around the harbor, swooping and dipping, obviously announcing to the citizens of Rabaul that he had come back.

"Where are you going to land?" Rick asked, now noticing that the plane was headed back toward the smoking Tavurver.

"Lukanai Airport." Pocka pointed straight ahead.

Rick blinked. He could see the small airport just a little on the town side of the volcano where a handful of light aircraft were parked around a small wooden terminal building. He could feel himself tense up again.

"But Pocka! You have floats on this plane!"

"Yeah, man!" Jimmy joined in. "You need to land on water!"

"Right! Not on the land!" Scotty cried, as the Dragon rushed onto the shore and quickly ate up the terrain below on its way to the airport.

Pocka chuckled and guffawed and slapped heartily at his instrument panel. "One last surprise, chaps!"

The boys looked at each other in confused and anxious wonder, not knowing what to think, except that in a minute the plane, fitted with floats, would be landing on what looked like a paved runway!

Rick vaguely remembered hearing that you could land on grass with some floats, but that was pavement of some kind ahead - tarmac, gravel, or stone. It sure as heck wasn't grass!

"Wheels, fellas, wheels!" Pocka chirped out. "These floats are fitted with wheels!"

Then he flipped down a lever and seconds later made the smoothest landing possible on the primitively paved runway, chuckling to himself as the boys slumped back in relief.

"That's right," Rick sighed. "Some floats have wheels in them. Flip the switch and they come out for landing on land."

"Which, of course," Scotty jeered, "'Whammo Man' here doesn't tell us till the last possible second!"

Jimmy grinned. "Heck no. He's intent on giving you your money's worth! That or a nervous breakdown!"

The boys and Pocka were still laughing as he pulled the Dragon to a stop by the small terminal. "Well here you are, eggheads," he said, pointing down a dirt road that led along the shore. "It's about a half mile to town down that track. I don't see any taxis here so you'll have to walk. Then you can begin the old beguine and get on with finding your missing friends."

"A walk will do us good," Scotty remarked as the boys loosened their belts. "We've been riding in boats and planes for two days!"

Rick turned to Jimmy and asked, "How do we get to Storms End from here?"

"We can go around the peninsula by boat or drive up through the mountains. The roads should be dry and graded this time of year."

"Is there somewhere around to rent a car or a jeep?" Rick then asked the pilot.

Engine off, Pocka stood up and turned to face them. "There's a garage by Ho Wah's Hotel in Chinatown. They usually have some to let, left over Japanese war trucks and jeep-like vehicles."

"And what about the European Hotel?" Scotty asked. “That's where Rick's dad and his friend would have checked in."

"Stay right on that shore road," Pocka instructed, "and you'll run right into it. But let me tell you," he paused and frowned a little and scratched his mop of hair. "If you're going to drive up into the hills, you'd better be careful and armed. I know you boys know the score, but there's been lots of trouble up there lately near the goldfields with the Wambutu tribes."

Jimmy nodded. "I've read about it in the papers. They don't like the gold hunters digging up all their land, or what they consider to be their land," he explained to Rick and Scotty. "They're pretty primitive up there, the Wambutu, and they've been raiding the gold camps causing trouble."

“We’ll just stay on the roads and steer clear of them,” Rick said with finality. There would be no reason to linger in the mountains and the bush unless they found a clue of some sorts that would support doing so.

The boys climbed out of the airplane and exchanged farewells with Pocka, Scotty pounding the pilot’s shoulders a few times just for the heck of it. Rick paid the man and gave him a generous tip.

“That’s for all the stunts,” Rick told him. “You scared the heck out of us but it sure was fun and totally worth it.”

Scotty and Jimmy slung the backpacks over their shoulders and the threesome crossed the runway and headed to the shore road in the blazing heat. Rick glanced around at the surrounding hills and smoking volcanoes.

“Yow!” He expounded emphatically. “It’s hotter here than ever! Do these volcanoes add to the temperature, Jimmy?”

Jimmy looked across the harbor to Tavurver and then back ahead to Vulcan. “Probably not, Rick. The smoke and ash go way up into the atmosphere and don’t normally come back down here unless it’s a really super eruption. But we’re several hundred miles closer to the equator here than down on Lateela Island, so it’s probably just that much hotter.”

The hike down the shore road offered pleasant vistas of the busy Simpson Harbour and the ring of volcanoes that surrounded it. A couple old British-make cars passed them by and also a pickup truck, its bed filled with laughing and waving kanaka children whose curly mops of hair were every shade from blond to black.

Jimmy waved at them and shouted, “Yo brotha kiddo! Dis fellas belongem allatogetha Rabaul Town lots much!”

Rick raised his brows with a grin. “You mean we’re official citizens of Rabaul?”

Jimmy laughed happily. “You betcha. For today at least.” He pointed to the town ahead and then up beyond it to the mountains. “See those ridges? The Japs dug out around three hundred miles of tunnels in those hills. They hid out in them during the Allied bomb raids in the war. They had almost one hundred thousand Japanese soldiers and countless prisoners of war holed up in there. There were so many Japanese military here it took two years to evacuate them after the war ended.”

Scotty shuddered. “I was in some island caves in the war during bombing raids and didn’t like it at all. Small caves! Ugh! I’d rather be out in the jungle facing the bombs!”

The rumblings of the volcanoes could be heard along with clangs and horns and bells from boats out on the water. From the hills up behind the town came the steady beating of drums.

“That’s the jungle wireless,” Jimmy said, noticing Rick cock his head to listen. “You don’t hear it on Lateela because the native population is small. But here the numbers are big and they communicate all day long by drum.”

The barren fields soon gave way to lovely tree-lined streets leading up into town from the water. A beautiful white sand beach led along to the quay section of the harbor with its piers and wharves and cargo sheds. European-style bungalows lined the streets shaded by high coconut palms and flowering trees, and exotic hedges of flowering shrubs fenced the perimeters. The perfume of flowers was heavy in the air.

Young colorful natives in lap-laps, sarongs, the Mother Hubbard dresses, or shorts and jerseys milled around, some with colorful flowers behind their ears and their woolly mops died a rainbow of colors. Police boys in white caps and blue shorts directed traffic on street corners and society matrons in the latest fashions from Sydney mingled with planters and businessmen in their white tropical suits.

“What a fine town this is!” exclaimed Rick, looking up the wide Causarina Avenue where they had stopped to get their bearings.

“Sort of looks like a little London,” Scotty suggested, eying the traditional-looking commercial and government buildings.

Jimmy chuckled. “Right. A little London, a little Paris, a little Sydney. And a whole lot New Guinea. That’s Rabaul!”

Flashy modern British and American cars were driving in the wide avenue. Trucks, war vehicles, and carts pulled by horse and oxen were carrying cargo up from the wharves.

“There it is!” Rick pointed out the European Hotel on the next corner. It was a large bungalow affair, shaded by coconut palms and high grotesque Australian pines. Thick flowering hedges surrounded the building giving it a measure of privacy from the busy street.

A police boy at the corner halted the traffic so they could cross and Rick led them over to the hotel. They stopped in front of the establishment and Rick pulled some bills out of his wallet and handed them to Jimmy.

“These are American dollars. They ought to go far here. Go to that garage in Chinatown and see about getting us a vehicle. Scotty and I will check out the hotel.”

Jimmy nodded and pocketed the money. “Aye, aye, suh! Meet me up there when you’re done.” He pointed vaguely to the northwest. “Chinatown is two blocks up and two blocks over. You can’t miss Ho Wah’s Hotel. It’s the center of everything.”

Jimmy took off and Rick and Scotty walked through the break in the hedge down a crushed coral path to the large veranda of the hotel. The front yard was festooned with shrubs and hedges all bearing a cornucopia of lush blooming flowers.

Scotty grunted and twitched his nose. “Sheez! This place smells as awful as the perfume counters at Saks Fifth Avenue!”

Rick chuckled, looking around at all the exotic plants. “These flowers are probably all rare tropical varieties that most Americans would go bananas for.”

Scotty grinned. “Bananas I’m all for. At least you can eat them. But all these flowers here do is … smell!

They climbed the steps to the veranda where guests were relaxing in the shade and a little breeze off the harbor offered pleasant refreshment. The front door was propped open and Rick pushed in the screen door as the boys entered the quiet lobby.

The place was nicely fitted with a blend of South Pacific and traditional European furnishings, and it looked like someone’s home. A young Chinese woman in a fashionable frock was behind the counter across the room and the boys walked over to her. She greeted them formally with a little bow and Rick said hello and then got right down to business.

“I’m looking for my dad, Mr. Hartson Brant,” he told her, “and his companion Dr. Paul Warren. It’s possible they checked in here recently, within the last several days. They were bound here for Rabaul the last time we saw them.”

The woman looked at them with wide eyes for a moment, then did another little bow. “Ah yes, Mr. Brant. He was here with Dr. Warren, I remember.” She stepped back a few paces, adding, “I will go get Mr. Wong. He talked to them on several occasion and can tell you more.”



With that, she turned and walked off into the back office. Rick leaned on the counter and let out a sigh of relief.

“Wow, Scotty,” he breathed. “At least we know they got here safe and sound.”

Scotty’s face was all screwed up and he frowned, looking around. He shuddered. “I just don’t like this, Rick. Nothing is as it seems to be. You gotta be suspicious of everything. You …”

His voice trailed off as an elderly Chinese man walked out from the back, dressed in the obligatory white tropical suit. He bowed politely to the boys and identified himself as Mr. Wong. Rick repeated what he had told the woman.

Mr. Wong nodded. “Yes, your father and his friend were here a few days ago. They spent one night as I recall.” He stepped over to a large registry on the counter and flipped back several pages. “They stayed here one night,” he added, telling Rick the date. “They departed the following morning, early and in quite a hurry.”

“That’d be four days ago,” Rick said to Scotty. “Gosh, I wonder where they went?”

Scotty shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in the stylish lobby, so different from what they’d been used to the last few weeks. Mr. Wong gently cleared his throat, then said:

“Perhaps I can help you, young man. Your father asked about acquiring a vehicle to go up into the mountains. I advised him to visit the garage in Chinatown.”

“The mountains, Scotty!” Rick said breathlessly, glancing pointedly at him. “Perhaps they started out to Storms End, too?”

Rick could feel his heart begin to thud in excitement. He struggled to control himself and was about to thank Mr. Wong when the man said:

“And there is more that I can tell you.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “What is it, sir?”

“The two men asked about Coastwatchers Hill, how to get there. It is up on the first ridges of the hills behind Vulcan. It is where the Japanese caves are, and your father and his friend wanted to go there.”

Rick and Scotty quickly exchanged puzzled expressions.

“What’s up there?” Scotty asked, frowning.

“Miles and miles of caves,” Mr. Wong answered in his sing-song voice. “Some are filled with munitions left over from the war, others are empty.” He lowered his eyes and added, “Still others bear the remains of prisoners of war.”

“P.O.W.’s!” Scotty exclaimed. “And men still missing in action. Maybe that’s what they’re looking for after all, Rick. Some mystery in connection with them.”

Mr. Wong shook his head. “No, they did not mention that. They were looking for something specific. They wanted to find the madman of Coastwatchers Hill.”

Rick swallowed hard, his eyes agog as he looked at Scotty yet again in consternation and they shared baffled expressions. Turning back to Mr. Wong, he repeated, slowly, “the madman of Coastwatchers Hill?”
The elderly Chinese man nodded. “He is a local legendary figure. One is not quite sure to this day if he really exists, although plenty people claim to have seen him over the years. He is an old Chinese man who lives up in the caves on that ridge, from long before the Japanese came. He is said to have survived even their occupation and excavation of the catacombs, so clever he is. Mr. Brant and Dr. Warren wanted to find him.”

Rick huffed out a couple breaths, literally scratching his head in wonder. He turned once again to Scotty as if the boy could possibly offer him an explanation.

“I am totally stumped, buddy,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders, after Scotty just stared at him blankly. “I thought it was mysterious when Dad and Dr. Warren wanted to find the old American woman Annie Welles on Lateela Island. But this beats that all to pieces! What in the world could they want with an old madman who lives in mountain caves up above a volcano on this God-forsaken jungle island in the very exact middle of nowhere?”

Chapter 10 coming soon!





















        
 

Saturday, September 24, 2011

RICK BRANT GOLDEN DRAGON 8

All chapters through chapter 8 are now available on this alternate site:

THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON
https://sites.google.com/site/rickbrantfanfiction/dragon



THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON

or THE SOUTH SEAS CITY OF DEATH MYSTERY

A Rick Brant fan-written adventure from 1959, a sequel to The Phantom Shark.
To get all the chapters, click on 'Golden Dragon' under Labels on side panel.



Chapter Eight: DAREDEVIL FLIGHT TO RABAUL


Rick Brant had driven the motorboat all night on the waters of the Solomon Sea, guided by the moonlight and the ever present shadow of the island of New Britain. He was filled with the exuberance of being free and the thrill of getting closer to Rabaul where the final plans would be laid in the search to find his father.

It was now early morning and the light of the moon high overhead drenched everything in silver. Far to the east on the starboard side Rick could see dawn's early bright, a peachy-pink glow slivered along the horizon. The compass on the dash pointed due north; the island coast had changed direction from east-west to north-south as it curved up toward its northeastern tip where lay Rabaul.

Scotty and Jimmy were sprawled out on the floor behind Rick, fast asleep. After their escape, when they knew the Mirandu to be far behind them, they had stopped to refuel from the supply in the storage locker. Then Rick's two friends had sacked out to rest as he piloted the craft for hours with the hot tropical wind ruffling his hair and the coconut palms swaying to and fro on the dark shore. Caught in the spell of the South Seas night, fueled by the urgency of his quest, Rick felt like he wouldn't need to sleep for the entire week to come!

The sea was calm now. The swells were gone, replaced by flat waters with barely a ripple. But Rick kept an eye out for broken water. It was unlikely there would be reefs this far out but he knew it was best to be on the safe side of caution so they'd get safely to the Meena Islands, which lay directly ahead.

"Just follow the coast." Jimmy had told him before falling asleep, "and you'll run right into them."

In Meena Town there would be a government official to talk to, someone to inform about the pirate attack on the Mirandu. And there might be a better connection to Rabaul, still a few hundred miles on, like a faster boat or even an airplane.

Rick grinned, thinking how great an airplane ride would be after this all-night escapade in the motorboat!

  Then, suddenly, he realized it was lighter. The peachy eastern horizon was streaming upward into a lemon-yellow glaze through which wispy cotton-like clouds were lazily drifting. The moonlight was gone and the few remaining stars could barely be seen in the milky glare.

With a catch of his breath, Rick slowed the boat as it unexpectedly came upon the Meena Islands, as if they had suddenly jumped out of the sea at him.  His dad and Dr. Warren had scheduled a visit to a plantation on the island of Meena in a couple weeks, the Meenas being an important station for copra and other products of the South Pacific. But Rick doubted that would happen now. His visit here today would be just a quick stop, instead.

The beauty of the islands was unearthly in the strange dawn light. He drove slowly past small atolls and coral rock islands, some with white sandy beaches where the palm trees leaned far over the shore. Low native huts hid in the foliage and shadows moved about from the rising sun and drifting clouds like players in a game of intrigue. With the sun's rays slanting on the waters, Rick could see coral gardens below of brilliant colors and fantasy formations as the skiff cruised right over them.

"Holy cow! Look at all that stuff down there!" he heard Scotty burst out from behind him.

Rick turned to see his friend still sprawled on the floor but leaning up on one of the seats looking over the side. "It'd sure be a great place to do some scuba diving," he said. "These must be the Meena Islands. They're pretty close to the coast of New Britain."

"Lots of them, too." Scotty pulled himself up to a sitting position and swept his eyes around at the island-dotted sea. "Hundreds probably."

"Three hundred and fifty-nine, to be exact," Jimmy spoke out with a chuckle, rolling over on his back to look up at the sky. "Wow, it's dawn. Sure is pretty. You've been driving all night, Rick! Tired?"

"No way. I'm too excited. How often do you get to escape from cutthroat pirates in the South Seas?"

Jimmy chuckled. "Not often. In fact, it's the first time for me, and I live here!"

"That's because," Scotty intoned in a superior voice, "you needed the company of Rick and me to qualify for such an experience. Why, we've had major adventures in such far-flung places as Tibet and New Caledonia and ... and ... and Connecticut!"

Jimmy gaped at him, brows furrowed. "Connecticut?"

"You bet," Scotty grunted, shrugging his shoulders. "That's one of the forty-eight states. Strange things seem to happen to us everywhere." He pointed at Rick. "It has something to do with Junior Scientist there. He has weird karma or something."

"You're wrong about that, Mr. Scott," Rick tossed back. "It's good karma. We managed to get through it all unscathed - even last night, escaping the pirates. I'd say good vibrations are working on our side!"

 The boys all grinned for they did indeed feel lucky to have made such a clean getaway. Rick continued to navigate between the islands, some of them looming closer together now. Barriers of coral reef could now be seen forming protective lagoons to keep rough seas away, and the sun's rays on the aquamarine waters made the abundant coral gardens below sparkle with color.

Jimmy joined Rick on the front seat and pointed to a big island straight ahead. "That's Meena Town up there."

Rick could see a low huddle of buildings on the shore, the sun winking off of metal roofs. Broken water showed a barrier reef forming a sizable lagoon . A shipping channel had obviously been cut through the reef, as there were a number of boats docked at the two piers ashore - a schooner, trawlers, launches, and even a small tanker.

"I came here a couple of times with my dad when I was a kid," Jimmy said. "You can see the reef break where there isn't any foaming water. It's big. Just stay on center and you'll go right through it."

By the time they reached the reef the dawn had dissolved into a bright sunny day. Rick easily kept the boat on course through the break and they entered the big lagoon where signs of life were already beginning to appear in the port. Native workers could be seen on the piers and up by the sheds, and a couple small trawlers were already making their way out for the day's fishing.

Rick saw a church with a steeple on the road cutting through the town. There were European-style bungalows nearby it and many native homes leading up into the bush. As the skiff approached the nearest pier, the boys saw a man standing at the end of it dressed in an official-looking uniform. He pulled off his cap and waved it at them as they neared.

"Looks like we have a welcoming committee," Scotty said, leaning between Rick and Jimmy to get a better look. "Who is he, I wonder?"

"Could be the resident magistrate," Jimmy suggested, "the District Officer. But no need to worry, these Aussies are all pretty decent. Of course, we must look an awful sight riding in a stolen boat full of weapons!"

Scotty bopped Jimmy on the shoulder. "I'll hold you personally responsible if we end up in some kind of South Sea island prison!"

"Me?" Jimmy looked at him incredulously. "It's you guys that every black-hearted cutthroat in the Solomon Sea is after, not me!"

"Whoa!" Rick suddenly shouted excitedly as he gaped ahead. "Man, do you guys see what I see?"

Both boys followed his gaze and saw up ahead, moored to the pier, a bush plane on floats that until now had been hidden from view by the rusty old tanker.

"I see it!" Scotty enthused, grinning broadly. "And I want to be in it. Whoosh! Cruising high in the sunny blue sky!"

"It's a possibility," Jimmy declared. "Some of the islands have air service now and that one looks like it could hold all three of us and the pilot, too!"

"It can hold six to eight passengers," Rick told him. "That's a twin-engine DeHavilland Dragon, made in Canada. Wow, I'd sure like to take that baby for a spin!"

The light transport biplane had high and low wings and was painted a drab military green with orange call letters on its side and a colorful national flag on its tail.

"It could have been a war plane," Jimmy mused. "It's got New Zealand's flag on it."

"Rick actually owns an airplane," Scotty told him. "A Piper Cub. It's smaller than that one and only seats two, but we fly it all over the place at home."

"I wish we had it here today," Rick said, guiding the boat to the side of the pier. "We could stop here for breakfast and then head right up to Rabaul."

"Maybe we can get that Dragon." Jimmy looked hopefully up to the man awaiting them on the pier. "This fellow ought to be able to tell us if it's available."

He tossed a rope up to the official who had put his cap back on and seemed eager to help them. The man caught the rope and fastened it to a bollard as Rick maneuvered the motorboat into position next to a ladder. Scotty fastened a rope on the stern to an iron ring on one of the support posts. The man above placed his hands on his hips and looked down at them with interest. His gaze fixed on the rifles, machete, and cartridge belts laying on the floor of the skiff.

"Howdy!" Scotty called to him, as he stooped to stash the pirate weapons and their backpacks in the storage locker. "A fine morning, isn't it?"

"I daresay it's a real topper!" the fellow responded. He was a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair and a military bearing. But his smile was pleasant and his friendliness was genuine. "You must be the young chaps from the Mirandu, eh?"

Rick switched off the engine and looked up at him in surprise. "You know what happened? Already? The pirates ...?"

The official gave him a quick nod. "We received a dispatch from Captain Ambrose early this morning. Apparently the pirates were after you three lads. Once they learned you had gotten away with one of their boats, they abandoned ship. After, of course, they robbed a few unfortunate passengers of their valuables, the scum-bumbles!"

"Ha! I suppose they had to get something for their trouble," Jimmy scoffed as he climbed up the ladder to the pier deck. "Hello there." He proffered his hand, adding, "I'm Jimmy Timateo from Lateela Island. These two fellow are Rick Brant and Don Scott from Spindrift Island, way across the world in the USA."

The man grinned, shaking Jimmy's hand and Rick's and Scotty's in turn, as they climbed onto the pier. "Well, I guess we're all islanders, eh? Welcome to Meena Town, lads. I'm Fitzroy Manders, the District Officer, at your service!"

"That was quite a tale Captain Ambrose had to tell," he went on. "You three blokes are as game as young fighting cocks! First the pirates try to kill one of you, then you steal their very own boat to make a getaway. Good show! You ought to be dead fagged-out by now, eh?"

Scotty grinned at the friendly man. "Heck no. We're rarin' to go! We have to get to Rabaul as soon as possible."

Rick pointed to the floating Dragon moored up the pier. "Is that plane available?"

Manders nodded. "It may well be. It belongs to one of our residents. He transports freight and passengers all over the islands, so possibly he can accommodate you if he's not already booked today. I can take you to his place now, if you'd like. It's still early, but he's usually up at dawn and ready to fly."

"Excellent!" Rick was eager to get on with it. "The sooner we can get going, the better."

"Then come with me," the official said, gesturing up the pier. "Pocka Poco is the fellow's name and he flew transport throughout New Guinea during the war. He's a very experienced pilot."

The foursome walked up the pier past the boats and early morning workers, most of whom were kanaka natives or Oriental laborers. When they reached the Dragon, the boys had to stop to admire the biplane. Rick could feel himself just itching to get in the cockpit and take it up.

"I've never flown a plane quite that big," he said. "But I'd sure like to!"

"Pocka bought it after the war," Manders told them. "The New Zealand Air Force has a fleet of them for search and rescue in their rugged wilderness areas. It's perfect for island hopping. Pocka's an old campaigner. He'll get you there to Rabaul before you can say 'knife'!"

As they walked on toward town, they gave Manders a brief rundown of their activities the night before. He told them that the Mirandu had got its engines going again after the pirates had disembarked, and the ship had gotten back on course. It would stop in Meena Town later in the day, but outside the reef. The freighter was too big to come into the shipping channel and lagoon.

"Those scum-bucket pirates are nothing but a bunch of wankers," the magistrate declared. Then he looked at the boys curiously. "You never know when they are going to attack in these waters, but it sure crowns all that they have a personal vendetta against you fellows. You'd better keep on all fours!"

"We sure will," Rick nodded, glad that the man didn't pry further into their affairs and ask questions he didn't want to have to answer.

They walked up the main street of Meena Town past some commercial buildings and the government office, a couple hotels, and a handful of restaurants, mostly of the Chinese variety. It was early yet and the street was mostly deserted. Pigs wandered freely, grunting and rooting, and hens scratched about aimlessly as if they might actually find something edible in the hot dirt.

The magistrate led them into the bush and coconut palms down a narrow lane that was barely a path. Here there were clusters of native homes hidden from the hot sun by the jungle foliage. Manders stopped in front a primitive bungalow similar to the ones where Jimmy lived on Lateela Island, and knocked sharply on the door.

He grinned at the boys. "Let me warn you. Pocka is a real character, capable of anything."

Rick nodded in return. "Good. Then we ought to really like him!"

The door was pulled open from within by a kanaka man dressed in short pants and a sleeveless tee-shirt. He looked to be in his thirties, tall, muscular and lean, and he had a bush of dark curly hair and bold native features. He nodded at Manders with a friendly smile and looked the boys over, his eyes resting on Jimmy.

"Gawd blimey, boy!" he rapped out, chuckling. "I've seen blond brothers before on these islands, all shades from pink to brown, but never one like you with blue Chinese eyes!"

Jimmy responded to this unexpected salutation with a proud beaming smile. "I am definitely one in a million, sir. There's nobody else like me in all of New Guinea!"

"You can bet money on that, buster. I've been all around and up and down this land, and you're an original," Pocka Poco's  laughing eyes then turned to Manders and he asked, "So what's up, boss? Where'd you dig these boys up, eh?"

"They've got pirates after them, Pocka. The no good freebooters boarded the Mirandu last night and were looking to kill them. Scotty here got shot at. Rick saved his life by thwarting the gunman." He gave him a brief rundown of the incident and the following escape from the freighter.

"Well, now you're talkin'!" Pocka grinned at the boys approvingly. "Anyone who outsmarts those wicked picaroons is a friend of mine. But what can I do for you blokes, eh? Sounds like you can sure as heck take care of yourselves."

"We have to get to Rabaul as soon as possible," Rick told him. "Like today. This afternoon. Can you fly us there in your Dragon?"

Pocka Poco looked at them with suspicious narrowed eyes. "Hmmmm ... runnin' away from pirates ... in a hurry to get to Rabaul? Are you guys on the level? Not in any trouble, are you?"

"We're as level as can be," Rick said in urgent tones. "We're on the trail of a couple missing people, my dad and his friend. We think the pirates got them and they obviously want us, too. Out of the way, you can bet!"

The native man let out a low whistle. "Blimey, but that's some pretty serious stuff!" Then he looked from Rick to Scotty and back again. "Are you boys American?"

"You bet," Scotty answered proudly. "We're from the state of New Jersey, near New York City."

Pocka nodded solemnly and then winked at Fitzroy Manders. "Then you're darn tootin' right-o I gotta help you out! If the Americans hadn't come here to New Guinea during the war, we'd all be speaking Japanese and bowing to each other all day long like a bunch of silly marionettes!"

"All right!" Rick couldn't help exclaiming, his face splitting into a big wide grin. "What time can we go? We're like totally in a hurry to get there."

Pocka checked his wrist watch. "How about in an hour? Go back to town and get some breakfast. Manders will show you where. Then I'll meet you on the pier at nine. I'll get you there hotfoot in a couple hours. We'll fly like the wind, chaps. Like the blimey wind!"

Little did the boys know how true his words would be!

Manders walked them back to town and deposited them at a small European-style hotel where the restaurant was just opening. While the boys awaited their order, the official took out a small notebook and pen from his pocket and took some statements from them about the pirate attack and attempted murder. He agreed to take care of the weapons and motorboat for them, obviously stolen pirate loot. They all agreed there was probably a stolen property report on the skiff somewhere in the islands. When their food was served the magistrate bid them good luck and left the boys to their breakfast, which they ravenously enjoyed after their long night's journey on the water.

At nine sharp the boys were back on the pier and, as Scotty went to retrieve the backpacks from the motorboat, Rick and Jimmy watched Pocka get his Dragon ready for flight. Soon it was fueled and the engine was ticking and the twin propellers whirling. Rick and Jimmy climbed down the ladder to the bottom wing and then up into the plane. There were four rows of double seats behind the solo-seat cockpit, and they took the seats in the first row behind the pilot.

Pocka was now wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt and pilot goggles and he turned to give Rick and Jimmy a nod and a thumb-up sign as Scotty untied the moorings outside and shoved the plane away from the dock.

"Hey, Pocka," he asked, after he had climbed into the cabin and taken a seat behind Rick. "What are you wearing goggles for? Your cockpit isn't outside like on the old-fashioned planes."

As they fastened their seat belts, Pocka looked back with a wolfish grin. Rick thought he looked like a bug in a flower garden with his bushy hair and big round goggles atop the colorful flower-patterned shirt.

"I gotta look cool for the ladies, man," he rapped. "When I walk around Rabaul Town dressed like this, the marys  all come over squealin'!"

Then, he looked back ahead through his windshield and shouted, "Chins up, chaps! Time to put the ol' iron up our backs!"

The Dragon shot ahead with such a sudden thrust of power that the boys were pressed back hard against their seats. Rick's mouth fell open as the plane's upper wing missed the rusty tanker moored next to it only by inches. His hands gripped the arms of the seat and his eyes bulged as the plane shot out into the lagoon and Pocka let out a wild "Yahoo!" and pointed the craft at the reef.

"Hey, you'll crash right onto that coral reef!" Scotty was saying at the same time Rick was saying, "Jeez, man!", and Jimmy cried out, "Yow! Where ya goin'?"

Pocka guffawed as he horsed back the stick. "Up, brother Blue Eyes! Up, up, and awaaaaaay!"

The Dragon lifted in such an unexpected sharp steep climb that the thrust almost dropped the boys' stomachs right out of them. Rick had never experienced such a quick sudden take-off and all he could do was look ahead out the windshield at the blue sky above that they were screaming up into.

"For cryin' out loud," he grunted. "This is like a rocket to the moon!"

Scotty snorted, his blood leaping in his veins. "The Spindrift rocket to the moon didn't even go this fast!"

Jimmy sat open-mouthed, gripping the arm rests. "If you keep this up, that breakfast I just ate will be all over this cabin!"

"Thought I'd hit the reef, didn't ya, eh?" Pocka's voice slapped out. "This sweetie-pie can take off on a dime. If you know how to do it, that is. Whammo! Right up into the pretty blue! Howzabout it, you blokes?"

The airplane leveled off and Rick felt a moment's relief as the pressure eased. But the next thing he knew, the Dragon went into a straight line rollover and he and Scotty and Jimmy were all shouting:

"Whoa ... oa ... oa ... oa!"

"Yow! Yikes! You're killin' me!"

"Aaaaghh! Aaaiiiieeee ...."

Pocka Poco was chuckling and hooting away and he banged happily on the instrument panel as he leveled the plane. "And you boys thought the pirates were somethin', eh? Five makes you ten you'll remember this better!"

And with that, the Dragon went into a sudden downward spiral, spinning and spinning as it headed straight down toward the blue waters. Gritting his teeth, Rick could feel zero gravity as the plane plunged and spun around and around as he and Scotty and Jimmy were yelling:

"Stop it, man! Stop it!"

"Yo-o-o-o-o-o! If I get my darn hands on you, buster ...."

"Yow! We're gonna hit that water, you ... you ...!

But Pocka pulled back the Dragon and leveled her off at what looked to Rick like five feet above the water and then shot ahead seeming almost to touch the pristine blueness of it.

Rick's heart was banging. "How the heck can you do that with those big floats on the plane?"

"Skill. Total skill, chum," the pilot chuckled, and he pulled back on the stick, heading the plane skyward again.

Jimmy was groaning. "That's enough to make me want to jump out and swim back to shore!"

"C'mon, don't let it beat your ears down," Pocka jeered. "I was just sayin' goodbye to my neighbors on the island. They've grown to expect some kind of antics from me."

"Talk about beating ears down," Scotty whispered to Rick. "Wait till I get him on some solid ground!"

"You don't do that every time you leave with passengers, do you?" Rick asked in astonishment.

"Naw, nobody'd fly with me." Pocka turned to look at them. "I'm hip, boys. That scares the heck out of people.  I just figured you guys would like it!"

The three boys exchanged glances. Rick rolled his eyes. Scotty grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Jimmy made a sour expression and grunted.

"You could've warned us first," he said, managing an ornery smile. "If you're gonna do any more stunts, let us know beforehand! Jeez!"

Then Rick and Scotty and Jimmy all looked at each other and burst out laughing, but hooting even louder was Pocka, and a couple times he banged on his instrument panel for effect.

The boys knew that he was right; they would indeed remember Pocka and his Dragon even better than the pirates!

But the rest of the flight to Rabaul went without event, and the boys stomachs and heartbeats soon settled down. The Dragon flew as smooth and steady as an albatross as the boys gazed out the side windows at the scenery below. The Solomon Sea stretched starboard to the east as far as the eye could see, blue and endless in the glare of the tropical sun. Port side was New Britain, relentless jungle and mighty mountain peaks. It was a land of eerie mystery to the outer world, Rick knew, but merely plain old home to area natives like Jimmy and Pocka.

The pilot from Meena Town gave them a running commentary about the coastline and rapped out stories about his flying experiences during the war. "That's how I learned daredevil stunts," he explained. "You had to be pretty clever to stay away from those Japanese kamikaze pilots!"

He told them that he had bought the Dragon from the New Zealand Air Force after the war and was one of the first practicing bush pilots in modern New Guinea. Rick was impressed with the man's prowess in the cockpit, but he had no desire himself to learn any daredevil stunt flying.

At length, another large island came into view starboard, all dense green jungle and high mountain ranges. It was New Ireland, Pocka told them, another province of New Guinea, and they flew up the St. George's Channel which separated it from New Britain. This eventually opened into The Straits of Bismarck, a vast sea between the islands dotted with thousands of smaller islands. Rick knew that one of them, hoped that one of them, was their destination Palua Pae.

On the Gazelle Peninsula, at the very tip of New Britain as it opened to the Bismarck Straits, lay the city of Rabaul. The first sight of its incredible harbor from the sky was thrilling.

"Check it out!" Scotty pointed out the port side window. "Lookit! It doesn't look real."

Rick peered through the glass. "Volcanoes! Man, there's two, no four, no five of them! Wow, and all smokin' like crazy!"

"It's a caldera," Pocka explained, banking the plane so they'd get a better view. "A bowl-like ring of volcanoes wrapping around the harbor. They say there's no other place like it in the world!"

The beautiful harbor was indeed shaped like a bowl, surrounded three-quarters of its perimeter by mountains and five active volcanoes spewing out clouds of ash high into the sky.

"That's Vulcan," Jimmy said, pointing out the window. "There, on the southwestern edge of the harbor. And the big one on the other side, northeast there, that's Tavurver. They're the biggest and most dangerous of the volcanoes, blowing all the time."

"Vulcan used to be an island,' he went on, "but about ten years ago it blew its top and grew into a mountain from the ash and rock it spewed up. The fallout destroyed the town, buried it. But the people came back and rebuilt it. How could they stay away from such a beautiful place, eh?"

"They'll always come back to Rabaul Town," Pocka tossed in. "It could happen again and again but the people would always return. There's no other paradise like it!"

Rick totally agreed. He had never seen such a beautiful sight as the jungle island harbor below surrounded with smoking volcanoes. It was a perfect circle of deep blue waters, dazzling in the sunlight, a sight worth coming all this way just to see it. On the beach in the center was the town, and behind it the jungle easing up in waves of green darkness to the thick dense highlands beyond.

The sight gripped him strongly and he felt a sudden pang in his breast, a quick unwelcome fear. Would they find his dad and Dr. Warren here? If not, would they at least unearth a clue to help guide them on their quest?

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Here was one of the true beauty spots of the world, glorious under the blazing tropical sun, but it was only the ugliness of evil that followed behind them and almost certainly that awaited ahead!



Coming Soon: Chapter Nine!