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

"Don't call me that nickname!" the girl snapped. "The newspapers hung it on me, and I do not care for it."
Seaworthy clicked off a prompt salute, and said, "Certainly miss."
THE girl strode out on the starboard wing of the bridge and, with binoculars, swept the night. The Tropic Seas was now in the mouth of the harbor, the portion shown on the chart as the Narrows. Brooklyn was a diffused light bank on the left, while Staten Island lights were farther away to the right.
"Not a sign of the coast guard," the girl said.
"They run without lights, too," Seaworthy reminded her. "But I think we'll make it."
The young woman walked back to the center of the bridge, and questioned, "You are sure we can trust the men we have aboard?"
"Absolutely," said Seaworthy. "I know every one of them personally. I've sailed with them all at one time or another."
"Spare us another Captain Flamingo experience," the girl said, grimly.
"Captain Flamingo!" Seaworthy made a growling noise. "We sure dismasted him! That idea of mine of getting acid into the bilge of his boat was swell, huh?"
The girl shuddered, said, "Poor Twenty-Thousand-Leagues Verne."
"We'll settle a fortune on his relatives," Seaworthy said. "We can do a lot of things, after we get to Taz."
The girl was silent a moment.
"You sure you have all the necessary equipment aboard?" she asked him.
"All we had the money to buy," Seaworthy told her. "Of course, if we'd had more money, we'd 'a' got a small submarine and fitted it up with locks by which divers could enter and leave."
"I'm broke." The girl's voice was grim. "I staked every-thing on this. I even sold my diamonds. These things I'm wearing are glass."
"They don't look like glass," Seaworthy told her.
"Oh, they make good imitations these days," the girl replied, casually. "And I had to keep myself in character by wearing them."
She turned and walked off the bridge.
Doc Savage was there in the darkness to meet her. Before she saw him, she was inside the trap which his corded arms made.
Chapter 5. THE SCIENTIST
To make a prisoner of one person within a few yards of another without the latter becoming aware, is no feat simple of execution. In this case, it was made more difficult by the comparative quiet reigning in the vicinity of the bridge.
Doc Savage held the girl tightly with his right arm, her feet off the deck; with his left hand he closed her mouth, her nostrils.
Her struggles, however, made enough small noise to attract the attention of Seaworthy, who was handling the wheel.
"Something wrong?" he demanded.
Doc Savage had spent countless hours experimenting with his own voice, striving to do unusual things with it. One of his major desires had long been to acquire the ability to imitate the voice of a woman. He had never achieved what he considered success. But, for a few words, he could do fairly well.
"I bumped into something," he said in a voice very like that of Diamond Eve Post.
That was no lie.
"Oh," said Seaworthy, deceived. "See you later."
Doc Savage retreated with the greatest caution, carrying his struggling captive. Seizing her had not been an impulse. The Tropic Seas was obviously sailing for some far goal, and Doc did not wish that until the mystery was cleared up. If he could succeed in removing the young woman, it was a reasonable supposition that the sailing would be delayed.
In making his seizure, the bronze man was, as a matter of fact, taking no great chance, the vicinity of the bridge being deserted. But one ability he did not possess. He could not see into the future; he was no clairvoyant. He had no means of telling that Seaworthy would pick that instant to remember a question he wanted to ask the young woman.
"Hey, skipper!" Seaworthy barked. "Where did you put that piece we cut out of Doc Savage's office rug?"
Doc tried to get out of the predicament by again imitating the young woman's voice.
"Never mind that," he called.
"I must know!" Seaworthy shouted. "I just remembered! Maybe we left it on the wharf!"
He was excited. He left the wheel and came racing through the passage. It was just another bad break that he paused to turn on the lights.
He saw Doc Savage and the girl.
SEAWORTHY had a remarkable voice. His howl of surprise must certainly have been heard in Brooklyn. And, still squawling, he charged.
Doc Savage used discretion and retreated, carrying his captive. There was a sizable crew on the Tropic Seas. They all looked competent. He could not fight the whole crowd.
He descended a companionway, taking the steps in a single long jump. A few feet beyond, was a bulkhead door. He got through it, slammed it. The panel was of the type which could be fastened from either side, and was of metal. He secured it.
The Tropic Seas was in an uproar. Fore, aft, amidships, men were shouting. And Seaworthy was certainly contributing his bit to the bedlam.
"It's the bronze guy!" he was bellowing. "He's grabbed the skipper! Head him off!"
Doc Savage was having a little difficulty with the girl. She was no weakling. She bit him twice, until he tightened the grip of his hand over her face.
The bronze man, instead of heading deeper into the inwards of the trampish vessel, changed his course and sought the topsides. He had surveyed the vessel carefully back at the pier, before coming aboard. The launches, motor-powered, in which the main search had been made for Captain Flamingo and his two companions after that trio had disappeared beneath the water, were hanging in the davits. They had not yet been swung aboard and lashed.
Doc Savage headed for the port side, where the launches hung. He moved as swiftly as he could manage. With the best of luck, he would have no more than a minute or two.
He reached the bow launch. Holding the girl so that she could not cry out while he disconnected the lowering lines from the cleats, proved to be a task. He managed it with one hand, but took some brisk punishment from the young woman.
The davits were rigged so that the lines could be handled from the descending launch itself. They had not, however, been intended for one-man operation. Doc Savage got the little shell down a dozen feet. Then something went wrong and he all but spilled himself and his captive into the sea. He had to free her. She promptly yelled bloody murder.
It did not make much difference. The blocks needed oiling, and their squeaking had betrayed them. Doc discarded caution for speed.
The boat hit the water with a distinct report. A wave promptly banged it against the hull plates. Doc Savage scrambled forward, and then aft, to throw off the davit lines. He got his foot against the Tropic Seas' hull and shoved off.
NO lights had been turned on, as yet. That made their escape simpler. And there was also a warning which Seaworthy shouted repeatedly.
"Don't shoot!" Seaworthy howled. "He's got the skipper with him!"