“Into the sea? Nearly three miles down? It isn’t humanly possible!”
David only said: “Sign the bid form, Jim. We have to get it in.”
That was all he would say.
We returned to the lieutenant commander’s office. I signed my name to the application form with hardly a glance at it; we put down the minimum bid—fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars! But of course the ship had cost many times that, new.
We barely made it back to the subsea shuttle for the return trip to Bermuda.
We were both quiet, and I suppose thinking the same thoughts. Curious, that Joe Trencher should have been able to find us in Sargasso Dome! It made it almost certain that the sound of motors we had heard in the boat basin was indeed Trencher, or someone close to him, listening in on our discussion. So they knew everything we had planned…
But there was no help for it; we couldn’t change our plans. There simply was nothing else for us to do.
We sat in silence, in the main passenger lounge, for half an hour or so. We were nearly alone. There was a faint whisper of music from the loud speakers, and a few couples on holiday at the far end of the lounge; and that was all. Business was not brisk between Bermuda and Sargasso City at that particular season.
Finally I could stand it no longer.
I burst out: “David! This has gone far enough. Don’t you see, I have to know what we’re up against! Who is this Joe Trencher? What’s his connection with your father and the Tonga pearls?”
David looked at me with troubled eyes.
Then he glanced around the lounge. No one was near by, no one could hear.
He said at last: “All right, Jim. I suppose it’s the best way. I did promise my father—But he’s a sick man, and a long way off. I think I’U have to use my own judgment now.”
“You’ll tell me about Trencher and—and those sea serpents, or whatever they were?”
He nodded.
“Trencher,” he said. “Joe Trencher. He was once my father’s foreman. His most trusted employee—and now he is leading the mutineers.”
“Mutineers against what, David?” I was more than a little exasperated. So many things I didn’t understand—so much mystery that I could not penetrate!
“Mutineers against my father, of course. I told you about my father’s dome—about the undersea empire he built out of the Tonga pearls. Well, it’s slipping out of his hands now. The helpers he used to trust have turned against him. Trencher is only one.”
I couldn’t help wondering once more about that “empire” beneath the sea. It didn’t seem that David’s father could have built it by strictly legal and honest methods—but that was a long time ago, of course…
“It began with the sea serpents,” David was saying. “They have lived in the Tonga Trench, made their lairs in the very sea mount where my father built his dome, for millions of years, Jim. Maybe hundreds of millions. You see reconstructions of beasts like them in the museums, and they go back to a time long, long before there were any humans on earth. They’re unbelievably ancient, and they haven’t changed a bit in all those hundreds of millions of years. Until my father came along. And he—he is trying to do something with them, Jim. Something that’s hard to believe. He’s trying to train them as horses and dogs are trained—to help him, to work for him. He’s trying to domesticate saurians that date back to the age of dinosaurs!”
I stared at him, hardly believing. I remembered that giant, dimly seen head that loomed over the rail of the gym ship. Domesticate that? It would be as easy to teach a rattlesnake to carry a newspaper!
But he was still talking.
“Naturally, Dad couldn’t do it alone,” he said. “But he had help—a curious kind of help, almost as unbelievable as the sea serpents themselves.
“Joe Trencher. And a few hundred others like him. Not very many—but enough. Without them my father couldn’t have got to first base with the saurians. Trencher’s people were a great help.”
“They’re ugly enough looking, if Trencher is any sample,” I told him. “Those white, pearly eyes—that pale skin. The funny way they breathe. They don’t even seem human!”
David nodded calmly. “They aren’t,” he said. “Not any more, at any rate. They’re descended from humans—Polynesians, somehow trapped in a subsidence of land. You’ve heard of the sea-mounts of the Pacific?”
We nodded, all of us. Those flat-topped submarine mountains, planed level by wave action—yet far below the surface, below any waves.
“Once they were islands,” David went on. “And Trencher’s ancestors lived on one of them. I suppose they were divers—so far back, it is impossible to tell. But they had Polynesian names, so it couldn’t have been too far back. Trencher’s own father’s name was Tencha—and Trencher took the new name on a whim of Dad’s. Trencher. A being from the Tonga Trench.
“And when their island submerged, they somehow managed to live. They reverted to the past, the far-distant past when every living thing lived in the water.”
“You mean—” I hesitated, fumbling for words, hardly able to believe I was hearing right. “You mean Joe Trencher is some sort of—of merman?”
“Dad calls them ‘amphibians.’ They are mutations. Their lungs are changed to work like gills. They’re more at home in the water now, actually, than they are on dry land.”
I nodded, remembered all too clearly the panting, wheezing difficulty Joe Trencher had had with breathing air. I began to understand it now.
Trencher used to be my friend,” said David somberly. When I was at home, I used to put on a lung and dive with him—not down in the Trench, but at a thousand feet or so. I watched him training the—the creatures. He showed me things on the floor of the sea that the Fleet has never seen.
“But then he changed. Dad blames himself. He says the mutation made the amphibians somehow temperamentally unstable, and then, as they learned something about the outside world—they—changed. But whatever it was, now he hates Dad—and all humans. He’s the one who kidnapped me from the gym ship. He’d been waiting for his chance—do you remember how many strange little things had been happening, pieces of equipment mysteriously missing, that sort of thing? That was Joe Trencher.
“He turned up, down there at thirteen hundred feet. I—I didn’t suspect anything, Jim. I was glad to see him. But I didn’t know what had been happening back in my father’s dome. I don’t know what Trencher did to me—clubbed me, I suppose. I woke up in his sea car, on the way back to Tonga Trench.
“He threatened to kill me, you see. I was his hostage. He used me to threaten my father. But my father’s a stubborn man. He has ruled his subsea empire a long time, and he didn’t give in.”
“Then how did you get away?”
For the first time, David Craken smiled.
“Maeva,” he said. “Maeva—my friend. She’s just an amphibian girl, but she was loyal. I’d known her since we were both very small. We grew up together. We both watched Joe Trenchor breaking the saurians. Then Maeva and I would go exploring, after—me in my edenite suit, she breathing the water itself. We’d go through the caves in the seamount. I suppose it was dangerous, in a way—those caves belonged to the saurians; they laid their eggs there, and raised their young. We were careful not to go near them in the summer, of course—that’s the breeding season. And there is another mystery—for there are no seasons under the sea. But the saurians remembered…
It was dangerous.
“But not as dangerous as what Maeva did for me two months ago.
“She found me in Joe Trencher’s sea car. She brought the edenite cylinder from my father, along with a message. And she helped me get away in the sea car.