Man From Atlantis by Richard Woodley

Author:Richard Woodley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dell Publishing Co.
Published: 1977-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

chapter 5

Given their knowledge that he had fully developed vocal cords, that Mark suddenly spoke was not as curious as why he had not spoken before. But whenever Elizabeth questioned him about it, he just shook his head.

Still, his speaking now was of enormous assistance in their hurrying ahead with preparations for the mission. That he could make statements and reply to questions cut the time it took to deal with him in half. He spoke simply and seldom. He was not one for chitchat. He responded when asked something, asked questions himself when necessary, or offered brief comments when appropriate.

It was early evening when the small, blue Navy minibus carrying Mark and Elizabeth and their equipment pulled up near the USS Moon River, a World War II submarine tender converted to scientific use, moored at the dock.

The deck of the gray ship was alive with seamen at work among the thick cables anking in and out of the diving well’s open hatches, with men manning lines and davits and cranks and hammers and wrenches. The air was filled with hammering and hollering and creaking as preparations were completed. Men walked up the gangplank laden with gear and returned to the dock empty-handed for additional equipment.

Elizabeth and Mark approached the gangplank, stood aside while a row of men passed, then walked up and stepped onto the deck.

One of the men who was seated on the deck working with wrenches on some diving gear looked up. He was broad-built and sturdy, with a square face and square hands, and dark, curly hair. He wiped his oil-smeared hands on a rag, rose to his feet, and he walked over to them. Still wiping his hands, he smiled broadly and said, “How you doin’? One of you must be Dr. Merrill.”

Elizabeth smiled back. “I’m Dr. Merrill. This is Mark Harris.”

The man stuck out his hand, then quickly pulled it back and wiped some more. “Glad to meet you. I’m the master diver, Ernie Davis. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you.”

Mark looked around curiously, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

“Well, Doctor, you runnin’ the show?”

“That’s right, Mr. Davis.”

“Good deal. That’s just fine.” He cocked his head to look at her, then shook it slightly. “just fine. Let me take you to the OIC, Mr. Johnson.”

He led them past bunches of sailors absorbed in their preparations, around some coiled hawsers, under networks of electronic wires, to a calmer part of the deck where Lieutenant Commander Arnie Johnson stood.

Davis made the introductions as the ship’s commander scrutinized the pair.

“Well, let’s see what we have here,” Johnson said. “As I understand it, Ernie will take Mr. Harris down on the platform, and he’ll go in at two hundred feet.” He looked at Mark. “What sort of rig are you using?”

“Mr. Harris will be testing some new equipment,” Elizabeth put in quickly. “A re-breathing turtle pack with a self-heating luralite suit.”

“That so? Well, somebody’s gotta test the new stuff. As for us, we still like our old Kirby-Morgans. Maybe we’re a little old-fashioned there.

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