"036 (B027) - Mystery Under the Sea (1936-02) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The young woman who displayed the diamonds was in charge of the whole thing. And she handled it efficiently. The man called Seaworthy seemed to be second in charge.
Fully half an hour had passed before Doc Savage joined Monk and Ham near the gate. They were alone here and could converse.
"Captain Flamingo and the other two must have had portable diving apparatus," Monk muttered.
"No," Doc told him. "Their figures showed distinctly just before they entered the water and they certainly had no diving equipment."
"Then they drowned," Ham said, dryly.
"It is strange," Doc Savage said. And his words were slow. "They entered the water confidently, as if they knew what they were doing."
Monk snorted. "This is a screwy business, and we still haven't the slightest idea of what it's all about."
"We have two angles to work on," Doc Savage told him.
"What do you mean?" Monk queried.
"This affair right here is one," Doc replied. "The other is the writing the dying man did on our office rug."
"What was the writing?" Monk demanded. "It didn't look like anything to me but some funny marks."
"There was not time to make sure about it," Doc Savage told him.
The bronze man now withdrew from his clothing a rolled photographic print.
"This is the enlargement of the marks," he said. "Keep it, and both of you stay undercover."
"What're you gonna do?" Monk asked.
He failed to get an answer, which did not completely surprise him. Doc Savage had a small habit, most aggravating at times, of completely neglecting to explain what he intended to do next. Now, was one of those occasions. He moved away soundlessly and was lost in the darkness.
Monk and Ham looked at each other, shrugged, crept out of the shipyard through the gate without being observed, and concealed themselves among discarded automobiles which littered a junk yard across the street.
DOC Savage had something very definite in mind, it was evident from his movements. The trampish-looking Tropic Seas was almost deserted, all hands being engaged still in the futile search for the three men who had simply vanished under the water. The lights would have revealed Doc Savage, had he attempted to walk down the wharf. So, near the shore, he swung over the edge and, hanging by his hands, swung along the stringers until he was close to the rust-scabbed hull.
Such portholes as were open were not large enough to admit him. He reached the gangplank, made sure no one was near, whipped onto the dock and got aboard the boat.
Shortly afterward, he heard the crew returning. He took pains to conceal himself where he could listen without being seen.
The voice of the man called Seaworthy was first to become distinguishable.
"Blast Cap'n Flamingo!" Seaworthy complained. "Him and the two with him got clean away."
That statement was startling, to say the least—in view of the apparently obvious fact that the three men must have drowned.
"We are in a jam," said the girl who wore the diamonds. "What was Captain Flamingo doing here? What caused him to fire the shot which attracted our attention?"
This indicated that they had no inkling of the presence of Doc Savage and his two aids.
There was the noise of fingers snapping loudly. Evidently, this was Seaworthy.
"You know what?" Seaworthy barked. "I'll bet Cap'n Flamingo came here deliberately and started that shooting. He knew it would draw a police investigation."
The girl emitted a mannish whistle of surprise.
"A police search of the ship would sink our whole plan," she said, grimly.
"Listen," Seaworthy suggested. Somewhere in the distance, a police siren was making a faint caterwauling noise.
"Police!" the girl gasped. "Some one telephoned them! Probably some neighbor! What are we going to do?"
"We'll set sail!" Seaworthy yelled.
He began to bawl orders.
THE disreputable ship had looked as if it were driven by steam, but evidently its appearance was deceiving. The power proved to be Diesels, and ones equipped for quick electrical starting, at that. Doc Savage could tell this by their sound as they began revolving.
The hawsers were cast off. Propellers churned in reverse. The ship moved with surprising facility for a hooker of her appearance.
The police arrived in time to do nothing but stand on the end of the dock and shout.
All hands, except those in the engine room, were on deck during the excitement of the departure. Doc Savage made use of the opportunity to examine a portion of the vessel. He learned a surprising fact.
The Tropic Seas had lately been a cargo carrier, but she had been built over for some purpose, the exact nature of which was difficult to determine. Living quarters for a very large force of men had been installed amidships, not in the forecastle as was customary
Originally, there had been one hatch forward. Now there were three. Cargo booms had been taken off and substantial derrick affairs substituted. It could be seen that the hatches were heavily padlocked.
Doc Savage smothered a hearty desire to learn what was in the hold when the crew began to move about the decks and come below. The Tropic Seas was now well out in the harbor and, judging from the vibration, was heading for the open sea.
All lights were being extinguished. No illumination was needed for navigation. The ample number of lighted channel buoys took care of that. The green and red light points of these buoys were sliding past at a much greater rate than might have been expected. The old Tropic Seas was fast.
Doc Savage worked his way toward the bridge. He managed to attain that goal without being molested, aided no little by the intense darkness. The bridge was glass-enclosed, but windows were of the sliding type and now open. He took shelter in a niche behind the bridge, where he could overhear what was being said.
For a time, there was only the routine conversation having to do with the piloting of the speeding vessel. They had muffled the engine room gongs for the time being. Somewhere aboard, a ship's clock started striking and a man swore, ran to it, and muted it before it finished.
"The police are sure to radio the coast guard," the girl said, uneasily.
"It's not likely they'll pick us up," Seaworthy told her. "It's dark as a cave. And our radio man reported, before we started, that he had tuned in on some ships out off Scotland Light vessel. Fog out there."
"By morning, we should be so far out they will never find us," the girl admitted.
Seaworthy laughed.
"The world won't hear from us again until we spring Taz on them," he chuckled.
"How long do you think it will take us to reach Taz?" the girl asked.
"Don't know, Diamond Eve," Seaworthy said.