Wonder Stories Super Pack. Fletcher PrattЧитать онлайн книгу.
against the dark clouds of evening, while above and beyond it sailed a black dot with whirring wings.
“That settles it,” said Murray. “Whether we like it or not, we’re going away from here. I wish those nuts hadn’t fired though. Now the birds know what we’ve got. Trot down and tell them to get up steam, that’s a good girl, Gloria.”
The lone tetrapteryx seemed no more than a scout, for the attack was not followed up. But it takes time to get steam up on long disused marine engines and all hands were below when the real attack was delivered.
It began with the explosion of a bomb somewhere outside and a dash of water against the vessel’s side that threw all of them off their feet. There was a clang of metal and a rush for the deck—cut across by Ben’s voice. “Take it easy! Everybody to the engines but McAllister, O’Hara and the navigators.”
The four sprang for the ladder, Murray in the lead. Crash! A sound like the thunder of a thousand tons of scrap iron on a sidewalk and the destroyer pitched wildly.
Murray’s head came level with the deck. Instead of the darkness he had expected it was flung into dazzling illumination by a flare burning on the water not fifty yards away, with a light so intense that it seemed to have physical body. There was a perceptible wave of heat from it and the water round it boiled like a cauldron.
[Illustration: Instead of the darkness he had expected, the deck was flung into dazzling illumination.]
He tumbled onto the deck, running forward to trip the release of the anchor chain. At the break of the forecastle, he stumbled, and the stumble saved him, for at that moment another of the bombs fell, just in front of the fore-deck gun. The whole bow of the ship seemed to burst into intense, eye-searing flame. Deafened and blinded, Murray lay face down on the deck, trying to recover his senses; behind him the others, equally overwhelmed, tumbled on the iron surface, rolling over and over, blindly.
But the birds, apparently unaware of how heavy a blow they had struck, seemed wary of the gun. The four groveling on the deck heard scream and answering scream above them as the monsters discussed the question on the wing. If they reached a decision it was too late, for McAllister and O’Hara, blind, drunk and sick though they were, staggered to the gun and sent a shot shrieking at wild venture into the heavens. Beeville, nearer to the blinding blaze of light, recovered more slowly, but found his way to the bridge where he fumblingly pulled the engine-room telegraph over to “Full Speed Ahead.”
Below, in the bowels of the vessel, there was a rumble of activity; a rapid whoosh of steam came from an exhaust pipe, a dash of sparks from the destroyer’s funnels, and slowly and haltingly she began to move. Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Beeville heard Murray climbing the bridge behind him and then his cry, “The anchor!”
Too late—with a surge that changed to a rattle, the destroyer moved, tearing the anchor from its ground and swinging slowly half-way round as the weight dragged the damaged bow to one side. At that moment came another bomb which, but for their motion, would have struck fair and square amidships. Bang! Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Murray dragged at the wheel, then swung the engine-room telegraph back to “Stop.” Just in time—the destroyer’s bottom grated on something, her prow rent the side of a big speed-boat and she came to rest, pointing diagonally upstream.
Fortunately the attack broke off as rapidly as it had begun. A few screams, lost in the darkness of the night were the only answer to another shell from the gun. But there was no assurance that this was more than a temporary respite. Murray and Beeville strove desperately to bring the warped bridge mechanism into running order while O’Hara routed out a blow-torch from somewhere and attacked the anchor chain, now welded into a solid mass with the deck by the force of the light-bomb. Finally, weaving to and fro in the hands of the inexperienced mariners, she was gotten round and pointed downstream and out to sea. If the birds sought them again in the darkness there was no sign of it.
Day found them stumbling down the Jersey coast, the foredeck a mass of wreckage and the ship leaking badly.
“Well, where are we now?” called a cheerful voice, as Murray Lee stood at the wheel. “Australia in sight yet?”
He looked up to see Gloria’s head emerging from the companion.
“Come on up,” he said, “I’m just going to turn the wheel over to Beeville and get busy with this radio. Don’t think the bomb knocked it out. It did everything else, though. Look at that.”
He indicated the prow of the ship, where the big gun hung down like a tired candle and the whole fore part of the vessel had dissolved into tears of metal.
“Golly,” said Gloria, “that was some egg those birds laid. What was it, anyway?”
“Don’t know. Never saw anything like it before. Must be some kind of new-fangled high-power incendiary bomb to melt steel down like butter. Why, even thermit wouldn’t do that.”
“I hope our friends don’t think of looking us up here, then, or we’ll be finding out what it’s like to walk under water.”
“You said something, sister,” declared Murray. “Wait! I think I got something.”
He fumbled with the radio dials before him, swinging them this way and that: then clamped on the headset. “Oh, boy, there’s something coming through ... we’re not alone in the world then.... Yes, there she is.... Damn, I wish they wouldn’t send so fast.... AAM2 calling.... Now who is AAM2?” His fingers pressed the key in reply as the others watched him with bated breath. “Position, seventy-three, fifty-three west longitude; forty, o-three, north latitude. Here ...” he wrote the figures down. “Take this, one of you and dope it out. Ssh, there’s more coming. Oh, he wants to know who we are and where. Call Ben, will you Gloria?”
She dashed off to return with the dictator of the colonists just as Beeville, who had been fumbling over the charts with one hand, called suddenly, “Why, the position they give is right near here—hardly a hundred miles away. I don’t know just what ours is, but it can’t be far from this spot. Tell them that.”
“Find out who they are first,” Ben put in, practically. “After what they’ve done, I wouldn’t put it past the tetrapteryxes to handle a radio set.”
“... His Majesty’s Australian ship Brisbane, they say,” said Murray. “Wait a minute, since they’re so near, I think I can switch them over to the radiophone.” He ticked the key a moment, then twisted more dials and leaned back as a full and fruity voice, with a strong English accent, filled the room.
“Compliments of Captain Entwhistle of the Royal Australian Navy to the commander of the U. S. S. Ward, and can we arrange a meeting? The Comet appears to have done a good deal of damage in your part of the world and you are the first people we have encountered.”
“Where’s your microphone?” asked Ben. “Oh, there.... Compliments of Benjamin Franklin Ruby, temporarily in command of U. S. S. Ward to Captain Entwhistle of the Royal Australian Navy, and none of us are sailors. We just borrowed this ship, and if you want to see us you’ll have to pick us up. We’ll keep along the coast toward Cape May. Can you meet us?”
A chuckle was audible from the radiophone. “I think we can manage it. Are there any of the big birds about in your part of the world? They have been bothering us all summer.”
“Yes,” replied Ben, “that’s what we’re running away from now. They’ve got some bombs that are pure poison and they’ve been making regular war on us—or probably you know about it?”
“We haven’t seen anything like that yet,” declared the voice from the loud-speaker, “but we’ve had plenty of trouble with them. Hold on a moment. Our lookout reports sighting smoke from your funnels. Hold your course and speed. We’ll pick you up.”
The voice ceased with a snap, and the four in the control room of the destroyer looked at each other.
“I’m glad he came around,” remarked Ben. “This destroyer is getting shopworn. Besides with a good warship on hand we’ll