Лестер Дент - The Fantastic Island

"Sure," Monk said. "But not very closely."

"The purpose of those pits may prove to be somewhat of a surprise," Doc Savage said, then offered no more.

As the party proceeded, the mangroves grew more dense. The coiled roots were head-high in places, causing frequent stumbles in the spongy, water-logged soil. The volcanic smoke grew blacker. The red flashes became more lurid. A fine ash of volcanic pumice sifted down through the maze of weirdly curved tree branches above.

Uttering raucous alarms, frigate birds and fantail gulls skimmed over the tops of the giant mangroves. Red-footed boobies perched on their nests and squawked continually.

"These birds would drive a guy nuts!" Monk rumbled.

"They're sure to give us away in case anybody's looking for us," Long Tom added.

"Snipers in these mangroves is one thing we don't have to worry about," Monk mumbled. "The Count was afraid to let any one else on the island have a gun … "

"Down!" Doc rapped, unexcitedly. "Everybody … get down!"

Monk — with the others — instantly dropped on all fours. A moment later, there was a crash of rifles. Lead snarled through the mangroves, chipping bark, and tearing at boughs over their heads.

"My mistake about the snipers," Monk said, grimly.

Doc and his men returned the fire with the guns they had confiscated from the Palace. With the sifting volcanic ash turning the shadowed mangroves into a place of perpetual night, the enemy guns flared in saffron bursts. Echoes crashed flatly.

"Holy cow!" Renny boomed. "Sounds like an army!"

Doc Savage said, "My guess is that brother Boris has flown here from Cocos Island and rounded up the slaves."

Renny groaned. "We should have let Boris drop when he was on the end of that rope hanging from the airplane."

Monk fired a burst of 3 shots. Answering bullets chopped mangrove branches about his head.

"Trouble with firing at their gun flashes is that they shoot back at yours," Monk growled.

The battle went on with the mangroves rocking to gun thunder and the black volcanic dust sifting down as though trying to blot out the livid bloom of guns. Lead whined and smacked, driving the combatants to seek additional protection by burrowing deeper in the mud.

"Monk's pig would love this," the fastidious Ham gritted, bogged almost to his eyebrows.

Big-fisted Renny growled, "Let's charge 'em."

Suddenly the enemy firing increased, coming noticeably closer.

"They're charging us!" Renny boomed.

"Keep down!" Doc ordered. He spoke calmly, hiding the alarm he must have felt. As a matter-of-fact, they were on as deadly a spot as any they had run against on the island. With lead slapping around them like hail, there was a good chance of none of them escaping.

"Let's charge 'em!" Renny roared again.

Johnny's scholastic voice said sharply. "Exsiccate, and attune auditory faculties."

"Huh?" Renny gulped, startled. "Whatcha say?"

"He means for you to dry up and listen," Monk interpreted.

Listening, they heard clearly above the whooping gun thunder a new sound. It was a massed gruntingas though perhaps 100-or-more of the Count's hunger-crazed iguanas had escaped from the palace and were butting through the mangroves on a manhunt.

The Count Ramadanoff himself was first to name correctly the sound. He did so with considerable excitement.

"Climb trees!" he bawled, abruptly concerned over his own safety. "I will call at our enemies to cease shooting!"

"What's comin'?" Monk demanded.

"The little wild hogs!"the Count gasped. "They run in droves like peccaries. In sufficient numbers, they can bring down anything that lives!"

- — — — — — — — — — — — —

They listened. It was a herd of the ferocious little animals, undoubtedly. There was a good deal of noise in the mud.

The Count was screaming at the enemy riflemen, beseeching them not to shoot but to climb trees themselves and seek safety. The response was interesting for it seemed that Doc Savage's party had taken shelter in the only large trees immediately convenient. Those trees where the besiegers lay — although thick enough for excellent concealment — were only bushes which would hardly support human weight.

In a mud-slogging wave, the herd of wild pigs approached. "The trees!" Doc Savage directed. And they hauled themselves out of the mud and climbed, boosting the big, bearded Count up into the branches and helping Pat, with the rest of them following hastily.

Always concerned with his appearance, Ham paused to scrape some of the mud off. The result was that he was slow in reaching a tree. In fact, before he gained his tree, a lean ungainly shote with long legs and flapping sail-like ears popped out of the brush and headed straight for Ham. The mud-smeared lawyer unlimbered his sword cane as he retreated hastily

"Hey!" Monk bawled. "Be careful! That's Habeas!"

"What of it?" Ham snapped. "If I don't get him, that pack of wild hogs chasing him will!"

"Chasing him nothing!" Monk bellowed. "Habeas — he's leadin' that gang of hogs!"

Monk's prediction proved to be optimistic. He had based it, no doubt, on Habeas's previous accomplishments in fighting. Which had been considerable. But Habeas — in these wild, peccary-like island hogs — had encountered if not singly then at least in numbers his match. He could outrun them, however. And he was engaged in doing it.

Ham went up his tree and Habeas promptly tried to climb after him. But he failed.

"Scat!" Ham yelled. "Go away! And take your friends with you!"

An idea seized Monk. At risk of falling out of his own leafy retreat, Ham hung down and waved an arm, whooping to get Habeas' attention. Monk had long ago taught his pet shote to move in response to hand gestures.

"Take 'em away, Habeas!" Monk yelled, indicating the shote should go in the direction of the enemy attacking party.

Habeas Corpus acquitted himself royally. Promptly setting off at a wild pace, he took his troubles in the shape of a grunting, snorting, tusk-flashing horde of wild pigs in his wake.

Among the enemy was much excited shouting, shooting, and an enraged squealing from the pigs. Doc Savage waited until the peccary stragglers joined what sounded like a considerable warfare ahead.

"Come on!" the bronze man said sharply. "Now is our chance to get clear!"

They scrambled down out of the boughs. Making their escape did not prove to be difficult because the men who had been besieging them were involved — for the time being — with the herd of wild hogs.

- — — — — — — — — — — — —

Doc Savage's party pressed for considerable time through the tangled growth and finally came out in what amounted to a valley. Before the last volcanic eruption — if Johnny's geologic observations were as accurate as they should be — the valley had been the shores of a bay.

Doc Savage listened for some time. He heard no sounds of enemies.

"Wait here," he directed the party.

The next moment, he was gone into the lurid gloom. He traveled swiftly, setting a course for a definite spot — the beach near where his plane had crashed. Once there, he stripped off his outer garments and entered the surf.

The tide, fortunately, had changed and the rips were not bad as he swam out to the spot where his plane had sunk. It was impossible more than to approximate the location. Which meant that Doc had to make a number of dives before he located the craft in some 4 fathoms of water. In truth, a film of oil on the surface — coming up from the crashed plane — led the bronze man to the location of the ship.