Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep292: Episode 292: Antarctic Horror

Episode Date: November 20, 2025

Today’s phenomenal opening story is the classic ‘The Wall of Death’, an old-school work by the wonderful Victor Rousseau, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29919/29919-h/29919-h.htm#The_Wall_of_Death Tonight’s classic closing story is the classic ‘Out of the Dreadful Depths’, an old-school work by the wonderful C. D. Willard, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/29848/pg29848-images.html#Out_of_the_Dreadful_Depths

Ready, set, sunshine. Redtag.C.A's Black Friday blowout sale is now extended into Cyberweek, with unbeatable vacation deals up to 80% off. Everything's on sale. All-inclusive, flights, hotels, cruises, car rentals. Plus, get up to $400 in instant savings with promo code TGIF. So skip the cold, chase the sun, and save big. Book today at redtag.ca or call 1-8665 Red Tag. Certain conditions apply. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Antarctic horror stories captivate us because they unfold in one of the last true frontiers on Earth, a place so vast, silent and untouched that it already feels alien. The endless white landscape hides as much as it reveals,

turning every shadow, crevasse, and distant shape into a potential threat. Isolation becomes absolute, technology becomes fragile, and help is impossibly far away. In such an environment, the line between the natural and the supernatural blurs easily, and the cold itself feels like an intelligent force waiting for us to slip. Antarctica strips humanity down to its most vulnerable. horrible state, making it the perfect stage for horrors that could never take root anywhere else, as we shall see in the first of night's two stories.

Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. The Wall of Death. This news, said Cliff Hines, pointing to the news. newspaper means the end of homo-americana's. The newspaper in question was the hour sheet of the International Broadcast Association, just delivered by pneumatic tube at the laboratory.

It was stamped 1961, month 13, day 7, Horometer 3, and the headlines of the front page confirmed the news of the decisive defeat of the American military and naval forces at the hands of the Chinese Republic. The gallant fight for days against hopeless, odds, failure of the army dynamos, airships cut off from ground guidance, battleships ripped to pieces by the Chinese disintegrators, and finally, the great wave of black death that had wiped out 200,000 men. Kay Bevan, to use the old-fashioned names which still persisted, despite the official numerical nomenclature, glanced through the account. He threw the sheet away. We deserved it, Cliff, he said.

Cliff nodded. You see that bit about the new Chinese disintegrator? If the government had seriously considered our crumblet. Kay glanced at the huge, humming top that filled the center of the laboratory. It spun so fast that it appeared as nothing but a spherical shadow, through which one could see the sparse furnishings, the table, the apparatus arranged around it, and the window overlooking in the upper streets of New York. Yeah, if.

He answered bitterly. But I'm willing to bet the Chinese of an inferior machine built upon the plans of that Chinese servant stole from us last year. We deserved it, Cliff, said Kay again. For ten years we've hired and enslaved them, and taken a hundred thousand of their men and women to sacrifice to the earth giants. What would we have done if conditions have been reversed? Self-preservation, Cliff suggested. Exactly, the law of the survival of the fittest.

They thought that they were fitter to survive. I tell you, they had right on their side, Cliff. That's what's beaten us. Now a hundred thousand of our own boys and girls must be fed into the more of those masters every year. Oh, God suppose it were Ruth. Or you and I, said Cliff. If only we could perfect the crumbler. What use would that be against the earth giants?

There's nothing organic about them, not even bones. pure protoplasm. Well, he could have used it against the Chinese, said Glyph. Now, he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. And of course, if explorers have been content to leave the vast unknown Antarctic continent alone, they would never have taught the imprisoned giants to cross the great ice barrier. But that crossing had taken place 15 years ago, and already the mind of man had become accustomed to the grim valley.

Who could have dreamed that the supposed table-land was merely a rim of ice mountains, surrounding a valley twice the size of Europe, so far below sea level that it was warmed to tropic heat by the Earth's interior fires, or that this valley was peopled with what could best be described as organized protoplasm, in almost half-transparent gelatinous organisms, attaining a height of about a hundred feet, and crudely organized into forms not unlike those of men? Half the members of the Rawlins expedition, which had first entered this valley, had fallen victims to the monsters.

Most of the rest had gone raving mad, and the stories of the two who returned, sane, to Buenos Aires, were discredited and scoffed at as those of madmen. But of a second expedition, none survived, and it was the solitary survivor of the third who had confirmed this amazing story. The giant monsters, actuated by some flickering human intelligence, had found their way out of the central valley, where they'd subsisted by unfolding their vegetable and small animal prey with pseudopods, that is to say, temporary projections of arms from the gelatinous bulk of their substance. They'd floated across the shallow seas between the tip of the Antarctic continent and Cape Horn as toy balloons float on water.

Then they'd spread northward, extending it. a wall that reached from the Atlantic to the Andes, and as they moved, they devoured all vegetables and animal life in their path. Behind them lay one great bear, absolutely lifeless area. How many of them were there? That was the hideous fact that had to be faced. Their numbers could not be counted because, after attaining a height of about a hundred feet, they reproduced by budding, and within a few weeks these buds in turn attained their full development. The Argentine government had sent a force of 20,000 men against them, armed with cannons, machine guns, tanks, airplanes, poison gas, and the new death ray.

And in the night, after what had been thought to be a glorious victory, it had been overwhelmed and eaten. Safe against the poison gas, the hideous monster. were, and invulnerable to shot and shell. Divided and subdivided, slashed into ribbons, blown to fragments by bombs. Each of the pieces simply became the nucleus of a new organism, able, within a few hours, to assume the outlines of a dwarf man, and to seize and devour its prey. But the Argentine expedition had done worse than it had first dreamed of.

It had given the monsters a taste for human flesh. After that the wave of devastation had obliterated life in every city clear up the Amazonian forests. And then it had been discovered that, by feeding these devil's human flesh, they could be rendered torpid and their advance stayed, so long as the periodical meals continued. The first criminals have been supplied to them, then natives, then Chinese, obtained by periodical war raids. What would you have? the savage regions of the earth had already been depopulated and a frenzy of fear had taken possession of the whole world but now the chinese had defeated the annual american invasion and the earth giants were budding and swarming through the heart of brazil man said that theosophists

is the fifth of the great root races that have inhabited this planet the fourth were the atlanteans The third were the Lemurians, half-human beings of whom the Australian Aborigines are the survivors. The second race was not fully organized into human form, and of the first nothing is no. These are the second race, surviving in the Antarctic valleys, half-human objects, roping toward that perfection of humanity of which we ourselves fall very short. As the Kabbalah says, man, before Adam, reached from heaven to earth. K. Bevan and Cliff Hines had been working feverishly to effect their crumbler for use in the Chinese wars. Convinced, as were all fair-minded men, that these annual raids were unjustified, they yielded to the logic of the facts. Should America sacrifice a hundred thousand of her boys and girls each year, when human life was cheap in China?

It had been discovered that the earth giants required the flesh of women as well as of men. or some subtle chemical constituent then produced the state of torpidity during which the advance and the budding of the monsters were stayed. During the ten past years their northward advance had been almost inappreciable.

Brazil had even sent another army against them. But the deadliest gases had failed to destroy the tenacious life of these protoplasmic creatures and the tanks which were driven through and through them have become entangled and blocked in the gelatinous exudiation and their occupants eaten.

All over the world, scientists were striving to invent some way of removing this menace. Moreover, airplanes sent to the polar continent had reported fresh masses mobilizing for the advanced northward. The second wave would probably burst through the Amazon forest barrier and sweep over the isthmus and overrun North America. Five days after the news of the Chinese disaster was confirmed, Cliff Hines came back from. from the capital of the American Confederation, Washington. It's no use, Kay, he said. The government won't even look at the crumbler. I told them it would disintegrate every inorganic substance to powder.

They laughed at me. And it's true, Kay, they've given up the attempt to enslave China. Henceforth, a hundred thousand of our own citizens are to be sacrificed each year. Eden alive, Kay. God, if only the crumbler would destroy. organic forms as well the first year's quota of 50,000 boys and 50,000 girls thrown to the more of the monsters to save humanity nearly destroyed the Confederation well despite the utmost secrecy despite the penalty of death for publishing news of the

sacrifice despite the fact that those who drew the fatal lots were snatched from their homes at dead of night everything did become known On the vast Pampas, in the extreme north of the Argentine Republic, where Bolivia, Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil unite, was the place of sacrifice. Thousands of acres, white with the bones of those who the monster had engulfed, brainless, devoid of intelligence, sightless, because even that sense had not become differentiated in them. But yet, by some infernal instinct, the earth giants had become aware that this was their feasting ground. By some tacit compact, the guards who had annually brought their victims to be devoured had been unmolested. The vast wall of semi-human shapes withdrawing into the shelter of the surrounding forests, while the Chinese was staked out in Rome. Death, which would have been a mercy, had been denied them.

It was living flesh that the earth giants craved, and here on the spot known as Golgotha, the hideous sacrifice had been annually repeated. That first year, when the chosen victims were transported to the fatal spots, all America went mad. Frenzied parents attacked the officers of the Federation in every city. The cry was raised that Spanish Americans had been selected in preference to those of more northern blood. Civil war loomed imminent. Year after year these scenes were repeated. Boys and girls from 15 to 20 years of age, the flower of the Federation A hundred thousand of them

Must die a hideous death to save humanity Now the choice of the second year's victims was at hand In their laboratory Removed to the heart of the Adirondacks wilderness Cliff and Kay were working frantically It's our last chance, Kaye Said Cliff If I've not sold the secret this time

It means another year's delay The secret of dissolving organic forms As well as inorganic ones what is it this mysterious power that enables organic forms to withstand the terrific bombardment of the W-ray? The W-ray was the Millican cosmic ray, imprisoned and adapted for human use. It was a million times more powerful than the highest-known voltage of electricity. Beneath it, even the diamond, the hardest substance known, dissolved into a puff of dust. And yet the most fragile plant growth remained unaffectual.

the laboratory in the Adirondacks was open at one end here against a background of big forest trees and curious medley of substances had been assembled old chairs a couple of broken-down airplanes a large disused dynamo a heap of discarded clothing a miscellany of kitchen utensils on a table a gas stove and a heap of metal junk of all kinds well the place looked in fact like a junk heap The great top was set in a socket in a heavy bar of crowolite, the new metal that combined the utmost tensile strength with complete infusibility even in the electric furnace. About six feet in height, it looked like nothing but it was, in fact, a gyroscope in gimbals, with a long and extremely narrow slit extending all the way around the central bulge, but closed on the operator's side by a sliding cover of the same crowolite. Within this top, which, by its motion, generated a field of electrical force between the arms of an interior magnet, the W rays were generated in accordance with the secret formula. The speed of duration, exceeding anything known on earth, multiplied their force a billion-fold, converting them to wavelengths shorter than the shortest known to physical science. Like all great inventions, the top was one of the simplest to construct.

Well, said Cliff, you'd better be able to be able to be. bring out Susie. Kay left the laboratory and went to the cabin beside the lake at the two men occupied. From her box in front of the stove, a lady porcupine looked up lazily and grunted. Kay raised the porcupine, in the box, of course. Susie was constitutionally indolent, but one does not handle porcupines, however smooth their quills may lie. Kay brought her to the heap of junk and placed the box on top of it he went back inside the laboratory i might as well tell you cliff i wouldn't have brought susy if i thought the experiment had the least chance of success he said cliff said nothing in reply he was bending over the wheel adjusting a micrometer already kay

he asked kay nodded and stepped back he swallowed hard he hated sacrificing susy to the cause of science. He almost hoped the experiment would fail. Cliff pressed a lever, and slowly the ponderous top began to revolve upon its axis. Faster, faster, faster, till it was nothing but a blur. Faster yet, until only its outlines were visible. Cliff pressed a lever on the other side. Well, nothing happened immediately except for a cloudy appearance of the air at the open end of the laboratory.

Cliff touched a foot lever. the top began to grow visible its rotations could be seen it ran slower and began to come to a stop the cloud was gone where the airplanes and other junk had been was nothing but a heap of grayish dust what was this that had made the clouds nothing remained except that impalpable powder against the background of the trees kaelan grabbed cliffs up look out he shouted pointed to the heap something's moving in there and something was a very angry lady porcupine was scrambling out a quilless porcupine with white skin looking like nothing so much as a large hairless cat cliff turned decay we failed he said briefly too late for this year now but the quills inorganic material but even the bone remains intact because there's circulation in the marrow and those earth giants haven't even bones well they're safe this year then flung himself down under a tree staring up at

the sky in abject despair okay I've got my number Ruth Mead smiled as he handed Kay the ticket issued by the government announcing the lottery number provided for each citizen 100,000 young people between the ages of 15 and 20 would be drawn for the sacrifice and Ruth being 19 had come within the limits but this would be her last year in a few weeks the government would announce the numbers drawn by a second lottery of those who were condemned then before these had been made public the victims would already have been seized and hurried to the airship depots in a hundred places for conveyance to the hideous Golgotha of the Pampas the

The chance that any individual would be among the fated ones was reasonably small, and it was the fashion to make a joke of the whole business. Ruth smiled as she showed her tickets. Kay stared at it. Ruth, if anything happened to you, I'd go insane, I'd... Why this sudden feeling, Kay? Kay took Ruth's small hand in his. Ruth, you mustn't play with me anymore. You know I love you. The sight of that thing makes me almost insane. You do care, don't you? Ruth remained silent.

Ruth, it isn't Cliff Heimes, is it? I know you two are old friends. I'd rather it would cliff than anybody else, if it had to be someone, but... Just tell me, Ruth. It isn't Cliff, Ruth said slowly. Is it... Someone else? it's you dear answered ruth it's always been you might have been cliff if you hadn't come along but

he knows now it can never be him does he know it's me asked k greatly relieved ruth inclined her head he took it very well she said he said just what you said about him okay if only your experimenter succeeded and the world could be free of this nightmare what happened why couldn't you and cliff make it destroy life i don't know dear answer k iron and steel meld into power at the least impact of the rays they're so powerful there was even a leakage through the rubber and an electron container even the crowlight socket was partly fused and that's supposed to be an impossibility and there was a hole in the ground seven feet deep where the very mineral water in the earth had been dissolved but against organic substances the w ray is powerless next year dear next year will have

solved our problem and then we'll free the world of this menace this nightmare ruth let's talk about this now i love you and then they kissed the earth giants faded out of their consciousness even while ruth held that ominous ticket in her hand Kay said nothing to Cliff about it, but Cliff knew. Perhaps he had put his fate to the test with Ruth and learned the truth from her. Ruth made no reference to the matter when she saw Kay, but between the two men, friends for years, a coolness was inexorably developing. They'd gone to work on the new machine.

They were hopeful. When they were working, they'd forgotten about their rivalry. You see, Kay, said Cliff. We mustn't forget that the Milliken rays. have been bombarding Earth since Earth became a planet, out of the depths of space. It's their very nature to not injure organic life, otherwise all life on Earth would have been destroyed long ago. Now our process is only an adaptation of these cosmic rays.

We haven't changed their nature. No, agreed Kay. What we want is a death ray strong enough to obliterate these monsters, without simply disintegrating them and creating new fragments to bud into the complete being. Why do you suppose they're so tenacious of life, Cliff? Well, they represent a primeval man, life, striving to organise itself. Nothing is more tenacious than the life principle, answer Cliff. Meanwhile, the fatal weeks were passing.

A few days after the tickets had been distributed, a government notice was broadcast and published, ordaining that, in view of former dissensions, no substitutes for the condemned persons would be permitted. rich or poor each of the victims chosen must meet his fate and now the monsters were growing active there had been an extension of their activities tongues had been creeping up the rivers that ran into the amazon suddenly a dense mass of the devils had appeared on the north coast near georgetown they had overlept the amazon and they were overrunning british guiana eating up everything on their way georgetown was abandoned the monsters were now in complete control they will be cut off from the main herd the optimistic reports announced we shall deal with the main herd first this year the sacrifice will have to be made but it will be the last scientists have at last hit upon an infallible toxin which will utterly destroy this menace within a few months Well, nobody believed that story, for everything had been tried and had failed.

In their laboratory, Cliff and Kay were working frantically, though, and now the coldness that had developed between them was affecting their collaboration, too. Cliff was keeping something back from Kay. Kay knew it. Cliff had made some discovery that he was not sharing with his partner. Often, Kay, entering the laboratory, would find Cliff furtively attempting to conceal some operation that he was in the midst of. They said nothing, but a brooding anger began to fill his heart. So, Cliff was trying to get all the credit for the result of their years of work

together. And always, in the back of his mind, there was a vision of the little government ticket in Ruth's hand, with the numbers staring back at him in black time. They'd burned their way into his brain. He could never forget them. Often at night, after a hard day's work, he was suddenly awakened out of a hideous nightmare in which he saw Ruth taken away by the agents of the government to be thrown as a sacrifice to the monsters and how Cliff was hiding something from him that made the situation unbearable and the coolness between the two men was rapidly changing into open animosity and then one day quite by chance in Cliff's absence Kay came upon evidence of Cliff's activities Oh, Cliff was no longer experimenting with the W-ray. He was using a new type of ray altogether. The next series, the senium electron emanation, discovered only a few years before,

which had the peculiar property of non-alternation, even when the senium electron changed its orbit around the central nucleus of the senium atom. Instead of discontinuity, the senium electron had been found to emit radiation steadily, and this had upset the classic. classic theories of matter for the ninth time in the past fifteen years and so Kay's wrath broke loose in a storm of reproaches when Cliff next came into the laboratory you've been deliberately keeping me in the dark he shouted what a partner to have well here's

where we split up the combination hinds oh I've been thinking that same thing for a long time. Snearcliff. The fact is, Kay, you're a little too elementary in your ideas to suit me. It's due to you that I kept hammering away on the wrong track for years. The sooner we part, the better. Well, no time like now, said Kay. Keep your laboratory. You put most of the money into it anyway. I'll build me another, or I can work without being hampered by a partner who's out for himself all the time. Good luck to you and your research, and I hope you'll get all the credit when you find a way of annihilating the earth tracts. Then he stormed out of the laboratory, jumped into his plane and winged his

way southward towards his apartment in New York. There were crowds in the streets of every town on the way, in villages and hamlets, swarming like ants, and hurrying along all the highways. Kay, who still flew one of the slow old-fashioned planes, averaging a little more than a hundred miles an hour, winged his way methodically overhead, too much absorbed in his own anger against Cliff to pay much attention to this phenomenon at first. But gradually, he realized that something was wrong. He flew lower, and now he was passing over a substantial town, and he could hear the shouts of anger that came up to him. The whole town was in a ferment, gathered in the town square. Suddenly the reason became obvious to Kay.

He saw the adjoining airport, a drop like a plummet, hovering down until his wheels touched the ground. Without waiting to taxi into one of the public hangars, he leapt out and ran through the deserted grounds into the square. Growns, yells, shrieks of derision rent the air. The whole crowd had gone maniacal. It was as Kay had taken. thought. Upon a white

background, high up on the town hall building, the numbers of the local boys and girls who had been picked for sacrifices were being shot. Eight boys and fifteen girls, already on their way into the wastes of South America, to meet a hideous death.

They took my Sally, screamed a wizened woman, the tears raining down her cheeks, kidnapped her at the street corner after dark. I didn't know why she hadn't I'm home last night. Oh, God, my Sally, my little girl. She's gone. People, you must be patient. Boom, the government announcer. The president fills with you in your affliction. But by next year, it will have been devised of destroying these masters.

Your children will have their sacrifice recorded in the Hall of Fame. They are true soldiers who... Oh, to hell with the government, wrote a man. Stop that damn talk machine. break her then we'll hang president bogart from the top of the capital yells answered him and the crowd surged forward toward the building stand back shrieked the announcer it's death to set foot on the steps we are now electrified this is your last warning the first ranks of the mob recoiled as a charge of electricity and revolted just short of what was required to take life course through their bodies shrieks of agony ran out and files of writhing forms covered the ground. Kay rushed to the automatic clock at the window beside the metal steps, taking care to avoid contact with them.

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BEDMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. He turned the dial to Albany. I want New York Division. Substation F. Loyalist registration. He called. Give me the Z numbers of the lottery, please. No numbers will be given out until Harameter 13, the dummy booms. But I tell you, I must know immediately, Kay pleaded frantically. Stand away, please.

I've got to know, I tell you. We are now electrified. Last warning. Listen to me. My name's Kay Bevan. I... I might be pushing in the chest, hurried. Kay ten feet back upon the ground. He rose, came again within the electric zone, but his arms

twisted in a giant's grasp, staggered back again, and sat down gasping. The window then went down noiselessly. The dummy swung back into place. Kay got upon his feet again, choking with impotent rage. All about him men and women were milling in a frantic mob. He broke through them, went back to where his plane was standing. A minute later, he was flying madly toward the district airport in New York, within three blocks of Ruth's apartment. He dropped into a vacant landing spot, checked in hastily, and rushed into the elevator. Once he'd reached the upper street, he bounded to the middle platform and, not satisfied to let it convey him at eight miles an hour, strode on through the indignant throng until he reached his destination. Heurling the crowd's right

left he gained the exit and half a minute later was in the upper level of the apartment block he pushed past the janitor and raced along the corridor to ruth's apartment she would be in if all was well she worked for the broadcast association correcting the proofs that came from the district headquarters by pneumatic tube he stopped outside the door the little dial of white showed him that the apartment was unoccupied as he stood there in a days hoping against hope he saw a thread hanging from the crevice between the door and the frame

he pulled at it and drew out a tiny strip of scandium the new compressible metal that had become fashionable for engagement rings plastic all but invisible it could be compressed to the thickness

of a sheet of paper it was the token of secret lovers and it was the one that Kay had given Ruth a ring of it was the same signal, the dreaded signal that Ruth had been on the lottery list, the only signal that she'd been able to convey since stringent precautions were taken to prevent the victims becoming known until all possibility of rescue was removed. No chance of rescuing her. From a hundred airports

the great government airships had long since sailed into the skies, carrying those selected by the wheel at Washington for sacrifice to the earth giants. Only one chance remained. If Cliff had discovered the secret that had so long eluded them, surely he would reveal it to him now. Their quarrel was forgotten, all that Kay knew now was that the woman he loved was even then speeding southward

to be thrown to the moor of the vile monsters that held the world in terror. Surely Cliff would bend every effort to save her. Only a few hours of her. past since Kay had stormed out of the laboratory in the Adirondacks in a rage when he was back on their little private landing field. He leaped from the plane and ran up the trail beside the lake between the trees. The cabin was dark and when Kay reached the laboratory he found it was dark too. Cliff! Cliff! he shouted. No answer came and with a sinking heart he snapped the button

at the door. It failed to throw the expected flood of light through the interior. with shaking hands Kay poured the little electron torch from his pocket and its bright beam showed that the door was padlocked he moved around to the window the glass was unbreakable but the ray from the torch showed that the interior

of the laboratory had been dismantled and the great top was gone in those few hours cliff for reasons best known to himself had removed the top Kay's one hope of saving roof and he was gone in that moment kay went insane he raved and cursed calling down vengeance upon cliff's head

cliff's motive was incredible but he deliberately removed the top in order that ruth should die was not of course conceivable but in that first outburst of fury Kay did not consider that presently Kay's madness burned itself out there's still one thing that he could to. His plane, slow though it was, would carry him to the pompous. He could get fresh fuel at numerous bootleg petrol stations, even though the regulations against intersectional flight were rigid. With some luck, he could reach the pumpers, perhaps before the sluggish monsters had fallen upon their prey. It was said that sometimes the victims waited days. Something was rubbing against his leg, pricking it through his anklets. Kay looked down.

A lady porcupine, with tiny new quills, was showing recognition, even affection, if such a spiny beast could be said to possess that quality. Well, somehow the presence of the beast restore Kay's mind to normal. Well, he's left both of us in the lurch, Susie, he said. Good luck to you, little beast, and may you find a secure hiding place until your quills have grown back. Drowning men catch at straws. Kay pulled out his watch and the illuminated dial showed that it was already two quintets

past Horameter 13. He darted back to the cabin. The door was unfastened and his torch showed him that though Cliff had evidently departed and taken his things, the interior was much as it had been. When Kaye picked up the telephotophone

the oblong dial flashed out. The instrument was still in working order. He turned the crank and swiftly a succession of scenes flashed over the dial. On this little patch of glassite, Kay was actually making the spatial journey to Albany, each minutest movement of the crank representing a distance covered. The building of the New York Division appeared,

and its appearance signified that Kay was telephonically connected. But there was no automatic voice attachment, an expense that Kay and Cliff had decided would be unjustified. He had to rely upon old-fashioned telephone, such as was still widely in use in rural districts. He took up the receiver. Substation F, loyalist registration please, he called. Speaking, said a girl's voice presently.

I want the Z numbers, or from Z5 to C, A, said Kay. And thus, in the dark hut, he listened to the doom pronounced, miles away, by a more or less indifferent operator. When the fatal number was read out, he thanked her and hung up. He released the crank, which moved it back to its position, putting out the light on the dial. For a moment or two he stood there motionless, in a sort of days, though actually he was gathering all his reserves of resolution for the task confronting it, simply to find Ruth among the hundred thousand victims and die with her. Task stupendous in itself, and yet Kay had no doubt

that he would succeed, that he'd beholding her in his arms when the tide of hell flowed over them. He knew the manner of that death, the irresistible onset of the giant masses of protoplasm, the extrusion of temporary arms or feelers that would grasp them, drag them into the heart of the yielding substance, and slowly smothered them to death while the life was drained from their bodies. It had been said that the death was painless, but that was government propaganda. but he would be holding Ruth in his arms. He'd find her he had no doubt of that at all. And, strangely enough, now that Kay knew the worst,

now that not the slightest doubt remained, he was conscious of an elevation of spirits, a sort of mad recklessness that was perfectly indefinable. Kay turned his torch into a corner of the kitchen. Yes, there was the thing subconsciousness had prompted him to seek. A long-shafted, heavy woodman's axe, a formidable weapon at close quarters. Because it is the instinct of homoer Americannus to die with a weapon in his hands, rather than let himself be butchered helplessly, Kay snatched it up.

He ran back to his plane. The gas tank was nearly empty, but there was petrol in the ice house beside the lake. Kay wheeled the machine up to it and filled out with gas and oil. All ready now. he leapt in press the starter sawed vertically helicopter wings fluttering like a soaring hawks up to the passenger air lane at nine thousand higher to twelve the track of the international and supply ships higher still to fourteen thousand the ceiling of the antiquated machine he then banked and turned southward Oh, it was freezing cold up there, and Kay had no flying suit on him, but between the passenger lane on the lane of the heliospheres at 30,000, there was no air police, and he could afford to take no chances.

The government police would be on the lookout for desperate men such as him, bent on a similar mission. He drove the plane toward the Atlantic till a red globe began to diffuse itself beneath him, an area of conflagration covering square miles of territory. Swooping lower, Kay could hear the sound of detonations, the roar of old-fashioned guns, or through the pall of lurid smoke came the long, violet flashes of atomic guns, cleaving lanes of devastation. New York was burning.

The frenzied populace had broken into revolt, seized the guns stored in the arsenals, and attacked the great Bronx fortress that stood like a mighty sentinel to protect the port. A swarm of airships came into view, swirling in savage fights. Kay zoomed up. This was not his battle. Now New York lay behind him,

and he was winging southward over the Atlantic. All night he flew, and at dawn he came down in the coast hamlet for bootleg petrol and oil. You come from New York, said the Georgian. Here there's war broke out up there. My war's down in Brazil, muttered Kay. Say, if them giants come up here, you know, what us folks is going to do?

We're going to set the hounds on them. Yes, sir, he got a pack of blood happens raised for just that purpose. I guess that's something them wisecrackers at Washington ain't thought of. They took two little fellows from Holptown, but they won't take nobody from here. Okay, simply fueled up and resumed his flight southward. After that, it was a nightmare. The sun rose and set, alternating with the staring moon and stars. Kay crossed the Caribbean, sighted the South American coast, swept southward over the jungles of Brazil.

He drank, but no food passed his lips. He had become a mechanism set for a special purpose, self-immolation. It was in a wide savannah among the jungles that he first caught sight of the monsters. At first he thought it was a rising dawn mist. and then he began to distinguish a certain horrible resemblance to human forms and swooped down, banking round and round the opening in the jungle until he could see clearly. There were perhaps a score of them,

an advanced guard that pushed forward from one of the main divisions. Men, or anthropoise rather, for their sex was indistinguishable. Human forms ranging from a few feet to a hundred, composed apparently of a greyish jelly. propelling themselves clumsily on two feet but floating rather than walking translucent semi-transparent most horrible of all these shadowy spheroic creatures exhibited here in their buds of various sizes which were taking on the similitude of fresh forms and among them were the young the buds that had fallen from the parent stems fully formed humans of perhaps five or six feet bouncing with a

horrible playfulness among their sides. As Kaye sawed, some 300 feet overhead, a young Tapia came leaping out of the jungle and ran, apparently unconscious of their presence, right toward the monsters. Suddenly it stopped, and Kay saw that it was already encircled by coils

of protoplasm, resembling arms, which would shot forth from the bodies of the devils. Swiftly, despite its struggles and bleating, the tapir was drawn into the substance of the monsters, which seemed to fuse together and form a solid wall of protoplasm in all respects like the agglutination of bacteria under certain conditions. Then the beast vanished into the wall, whose agitated churnings alone gave proof of its existence.

For perhaps ten minutes longer, Kay remained hovering above the clearing. Then the bodies divided, resuming their separate shapes. And the white bones of the tapir, lay in a huddled mass in the open. Okay, went mad. Deliberately he set down his plane and hatch it in hand, advanced upon the sluggish monsters,

shouting wildly, leaping into their midst. The fight that followed was like a nightmare fight. He lopped off the slow tentacles that sought to envelop him. He slashed the devils into long ribbons of writhing jelly, slashed until the substance, blunted the axe, wiped it clean and leaped into their midst once again, hewing until he could

no longer raise his arm. Then he drew back and surveyed the scene before him. Well, it was dreadful enough to drive the last remnants of sanity from his brain. For every piece that he cut from the monsters, every protoplasmic ribbon was reorganising before his eyes into the semblance of a new creature. where there had been a score there were now five hundred o k ran back to his plane leaped in and soared southward his face was a grotesque mask of madness and his cries rang out through the ether the victims were no longer chained to stakes the federation which always acted with complete secrecy had gone one better. It had engaged electrical engineers, kept them housed in secret places, transported them to Golgotha, and there a vast electrified field had been established, an open space

whose boundaries were marked out by pillars of electron steel. Between these pillars ran lines of electric force. To attempt to pass them meant, not death, for dead boys and girls were spurned by the devils, but rather a violent shock that hurled one back. On this great plain the hundred thousand victims sat huddled in the open. Food, they had none, for no purpose was to be served by mitigating their last agonies. No shelter either, for the site of buildings might delay the final phase. But high above the doomed, there floated the flag of the Federation on a lofty pole, a touch of ironic sentimentality that had commended itself to some mind at Washington. Over a square mile of territory, ringed with the jungle, the victims lay. The majority of them ringed this terrain, all that is to say, attempting to escape, but they'd been hurled back by the electrical charge, and having no strength or will remaining, they dropped where they'd been hurled, and lay in apathetic resignation.

There had been screams and cries for mercy, and piteous scenes when the government airships had deposited them there and flown away. but now an intense silence had descended upon the doomed. Resigned to their fate, they sat or lay in little silent groups, all eyes turned toward the gloomy jungle. And everywhere within this jungle, a wraith-like mist was forming at this dawn hour. From a thousand miles around, the devils were mustering for their prey, agglutinating in order that the meal of one might become the meal of all. Whips of protoplasmic fog were stealing out through the trees, changing shape every instant, but always advancing, now presenting the appearance of an aligned regiment of huge shadowy men, now nothing but a wall of semi-solid vapor.

And still, with eyeballs straining in their sockets, the victims watched. Suddenly all were seized with the same spasm of mad terror. Again they hurled themselves against the electrified life. and again they were hurled back, masses of boys and girls tumbling against one another and screaming in one whale that could it have been heard in Washington would have driven all insane.

Again and again till they fell back, panting and helpless. And solidly the wall of devils was creeping up from every side. Ruth Dean, one of the few who had themselves in control, lay some distance back from the election, electrified field.

From the moment when she was surprised in her apartment by the government representatives, she had known there was no hope of escape. She had slipped the ring off her finger, snapped the plastic metal and attached it to a thread torn from her dress. She'd managed to insert it in the door, hoping that Kay would find it. It would serve as a last message of love to him. Every removal of a selected victim was in the nature,

of a kidnapping. At dead of night, her apartment had been opened. She'd been ordered to dress. Nothing could be written, no arrangements made. She was already considered as one dead. She'd been hurried out of the upper entrance to the monorail, which conveyed her in a special car to the landing station. A few minutes later, she'd been on her way to join the camp of other victims,

a hundred miles away. Within two hours, she was on her way southward. stunned by the tragedy none of the victims had made much of an outcry they had been given water by the airship police no food for boys and girls already dead days and nights had passed and now she was here faint from exhaustion and wandering at the despair shown by the others what difference would it make in half an hour besides the government pamphlet had insisted that this death was painless but an immense long to see Kay once more came over. There had been a time when she thought she loved Cliff. Then Kay had come into her life, and she had known that other affair was folly. She'd never told Kay of the bitter scene between Cliff and herself,

how he had raved against Kay and sworn to win her in the end. Cliff had then calmed down and apologised, but Ruth had never seen him again. She wished he'd not taken it like that, But, above all, she wanted to see Kay, just to say goodbye. And she tried to send out her whole heart to him in an unspoken message of love that would surely somehow convey itself to him. The wall of devils was creeping up on every side, slowly, lethargically.

The monsters took their time because they knew they were invincible. The sobs and shrieks had died away, collected into a mass almost as rigid as that of the earth giants. The victims waited. Pulsied as a rabbit that awaits the approach of the serpent. A humming overhead. An airplane shooting down from the sky. Rescue? No, only a solitary pilot, armed with a woodman's axe. Kay drifted down. Touched ground. leapt to his feet chance had brought him within five hundred yards of where ruth was standing but ruth had known who that lone flyer must be and she broke through the throng she rushed to meet him and her arms were around him kha darling k ruth dearest i knew you come well i've come to die beside you it was perhaps odd that it did not enter the head of either as a possibility that Kay should simply place Ruth in

the plane and fly away with her to safety. Have the thought occurred to Kay, he might have been tempted, but such black treachery was something inconceivable by either. So long as the Federation remained, as long as man moved in an organized society, he was bound to his fellows to fight, to suffer, and to die with them. stand by me ruth we're going to go down fighting they moved back toward the throng which momentarily stirred to hope by kay's appearance had fallen into the former apathy of despair and now the monsters were beginning to enter the electrified zone at one point as they passed the line of posts the high-tension current made their bodies luminous but it had no appreciable effect upon them And so they moved on, inevitably. A score or so of semi-human forms agglutinated into a mass and yet individually discernible. They bore down slowly upon the crowd of victims who pressed backward as they advanced.

On the other sides, though they almost encircled the field of death, the monsters were making no manoeuvres to entrap their prey. Their sluggish minds were incapable of conceiving anything of the kind. But for the electrified zone, the great majority of the victims could have affected their escape. The monsters were simply pressing forward to their meal. They did not interpret its capture in terms of strategy at all. A new frenzy of horror then seized the crowd. They flared, struggling back until the foremost in flight reached the other side of Golgotha,

to be repulsed by the electrified zone there. They fell in tumbled heaps, appalling shrieks, rang through the air. Another line of monsters was seeping forward, converging toward the first. As the two lines met, they coalesced into a wall of protoplasm, a thousand feet in length and a hundred high, a wall out of which leered phantasmal faces, like those in a freeze. Jay stood alone, his arm around roof, to follow the flying mob would but prolong the agony. And so he raised, the axe. He looked into his girl's eyes. She understood and nodded. One last embrace, one kiss. Kay placed her behind him. He sprang forward shouting and plunged into the very

heart of the wall. And Ruth, watching with eyes dilated with horror, saw it yield with a sucking sounds and saw Kay disappear within it. She saw that hideous mass fold itself upon him, and a hundred extruded tentacles wave in the air as they blindly grappled for him. And then Kay had broken through, and was hewing madly with great sweeps of the axe that slashed great streamers of the amphilus tissue from the wall of the protoplasm. It recoiled, and then folded once more, and Kay's mighty sweeps were slashing, fast, and slashed. phantom limbs from phantom bodies and lopping off tentacles that curled and coiled and put forth caricatures of hands and fingers and then, uniting with other slashed off tentacles, began to mold

themselves into the likeness of dwarf monsters. Kay's struggle was like that of a man fighting of fog, for again and again he broke through the wall, but always it reunited. And behind it, another wall of protoplasm was pressing forward and on another side a war was drifting up as Kay stopped panting and momentarily free Ruth saw that they were almost encircled she saw the nature of that fight inevitably that war would close about them

and though the bones of last year's victims had been gathered up and carried away by the Federation she guessed what would occur she ran to Kay and dragged him back through the closing gap it met behind them and again they stood face to face with these devils only this time instead of a wall of protoplasm it was a veritable mountain that confronted them and there could be no more breaking through

Kay thought afterward that the one touch of absolute horror was that the reforming monsters the young ones growing visibly before his eyes had the gambling instinct of young lambs or other creatures. They were much more lively than the parents. By this time, perhaps a third of the space within the electrified lines had been occupied by the devils. The war was slowly and sluggishly advancing, and a fresh infiltration was drifting in on another side.

As the victims were pressed closer and closer together in their fight, half of them seemed to go insane. They raced to and fro, laughing and screaming, fling their arms aloft in extravagant gestures. One young fellow, rushing across the ground, hurled himself like a bolt from a catapult into the heart of the grisly mass, which opened and willingly received him. There was a struggle, a convulsion, and then the mass moved on. Kay wiped his axe. He stood beside Ruth, gathering strength and breath to fight again. What else was there to do?

Suddenly, a humming sound came to his ears. Still some little distance from the monsters. He glanced back. The victims were shouting, staring upward. Over the tops of the jungle trees, Kay saw a second airplane flying toward them, a larger one than the plane which he'd flown. It opened its helicopter wings and drifted downward. Kay saw a single pilot dance.

in the baggage compartment something that at first he did not recognize. Then he recognized both this object and the aviator. It's Cliff, he whispered hoarsely, and he's brought the top. The crowd was milling about Cliff as he stepped out of the plane. Kay broke through their midst, shouting to them to clear a space

that this was their chance, their only chance. Well, they heard him and obeyed. and Cliff and Kay clasped hands, and there was Ruth beside them. The two men carry the top out of the baggage compartment and set it up. Oh, thank God I came in time, Cliff hissed. How long have we got, Kay? Five minutes, I think, Kay answered, glancing at the oncoming wall.

They're slow. Will it work, Cliff? God, when I found you gone last night. Cliff did not answer. sir. Ignoring Kay's offer of assistance, he fitted the top tightly into its socket of crowolite much heavier than the former one. Belief this, three heavy crowolite legs formed a sort of tripod. I looked forward to this possibility, Kay, said Cliff, as he adjusted the top and turned the clamps that held it in position. Sorry I had to deceive you, but you were so set on the

cosmic rays, and I knew the senium emanations would not appeal to you. that you wouldn't believe. And, well, I had a hunch Ruth would draw one of those numbers. How long we got? The swaying masses of grey jelly were very near them now. Cliff worked feverishly at the top. Let me help, Cliff. No, no, I'm through.

Right, stand back, shouted Cliff. Well, even then, he regretted it afterward, and knew that he'd regret it to his dying day. Even then, the thought flashed through Kay's mind that Cliff wanted all the glory. Behind in the milling, screaming crowd was huddling, as if for protection. Slowly a wisp-like tentacle protruded from the advancing wall. Kay swung his axe and lopped it from the phantom body. But the wall was almost upon them, and from the other side it was advancing rapidly.

Right, I'm ready. Stand back. Cliff turned upon Kay, his face white, his voice horse. I've one request to make Kay. You keep everybody back, including you and Ruth. Nobody is to come within 25 yards of this machine. Okay, that'll be done, said Kay, a little bitterness in his tone. Ruth, I think I'm going to save you all. Cliff looked into the girl's face for a moment.

Now, please stand back 25 yards. he repeated Kay took Ruth by the arm and drew her back the crowd moved back too their pressure moving back the vast multitudes behind them the vast mob was almost packed

into the quarter of the Gogho there was scarcely any room to move and Kay saw Cliff press the lever slowly the giant top began to whirl faster faster

Now it was revolving so fast that it had become totally invisible. But Cliff was almost surrounded by the wall of jelly. Only his back could be seen, and then space was narrowing fast. Kay gripped Ruth's arm tightly. He held his breath. The crowd of whom only a small part knew what was taking place was screaming with terror as the mass of jelly on the other side pressed them inexorably backward. The cliff had almost vanished now.

With the machine work, was it possible that the senium emanations would succeed where the Milliken rays, the W ray, had failed? Then all of a sudden the air grew dark as night. Kate began to sneeze. He gasped for air. He was choking. He could see nothing, and he pulled Ruth to him convulsively, while the terrified multitudes behind them set up a last wail of despair. he could see nothing and he stood with the axe ready for the onset of the monsters more terrible now in their invisibility than before then all of a sudden there sounded subterranean rumblings the ground seemed to open up almost under case feet he let back dragging ruth with him slowly the dust was settling the darkness lessening a faint luminous glow overhead revealed the sun Kay was aware that Cliff had swung the top so that these senium rays were being brought to bear upon the second mass of the monsters on the other side.

The sun vanished in appalling blackness and again the dust choked air was almost unbreatheable. The shrieks of the crowd died away in wheezing gasps and then a wilder clamour began. The earthquake! The earthquake! A girl was shrilling. Oh God, help us all. Kay stood still, clutching Ruth tightly in his arms. He dared not stir, for all the world seemed to be dissolving into chaos.

Slowly the dust began to settle again, perhaps five minutes passed before the sunbeams began to struggle through. A cloud of grey dust still obscured everything, but the wall of protoplasm was gone. Cliff's voice came moaning out of the murk, calling Kay's name. Kay moved forward cautiously, still holding Ruth. He seemed to be skirting the edge of a vast crater.

At the edge of it he found the top, revolving slowly, and Cliff's voice came from beside the top. Kay, we've won. Oh, don't look at me. Don't let Ruth see me. Look down. Kay looked down into the bottomless pit, extending clear across the plain to the distant jungle

an enormous canyon cleaved into the earth filled with a slowly settling cloud of dust oh they're here Kay don't look this way but Kay did look and could see nothing except a pile of debris from the bottom of which Cliff's voice issued

Cliff you're not hurt a little Well, you must listen while I tell you how to clean up the monsters. It's the senium emanation. It has the same effect when our method is applied to it. It disintegrates everything inorganic, but not organic. I thought, if I couldn't get them, well, I crumbled the earth away and bury them.

They're underneath the debris, hay, a mile deep, buried beneath the impalpable powder that represented the inorganic salts and minerals of the earth. They'll never get out of that. Protoplasm needs oxygen. They'll trouble us no more. You must take the top, Kay. Use our old method. You'll find his application to the scenium emanation

written in a book fastened beneath the hood of the plane. Wipe out the rest of them. If any more come, you'll know how to deal with them. Cliff, you're not badly hurt? K asked again. Don't look, I tell you, please keep Ruth the way. But the dust was settling afast, and suddenly Ruth uttered a scream of fear. And a strangled cry broke from Kisloat, as he looked down at what had once been Cliff Hines.

The man seemed to have become resolved into the same sort of protoplasm as the earth giants. He lay there, a little heap, incredibly small, incredibly distorted flesh without bones shapeless lumps of flesh where arms and legs and body frame should have been Cliff's voice came faintly

you remember the leakage through the rubber and an electron container k the W rays even fuse the crowlight socket well the synium rays are stronger they destroy even bone they're fatal to the man who

operates the machine unless he follows the directions. I've ridden them out for you, but I had no time to apply them to me. His voice broke off, then. Good luck to you and Ruth, Kay. He whispered, almost inaudibly. Please don't let a look at me. Kay led Ruth gently away. Did you hear that? She whispered, sobbing. He died to save us, Kay. it was like a return from the grave for the amazed boys and girls who were since the onset of the monsters had destroyed the electric lines poured out of the plane of Golgotha to life and to freedom

many of them had gone mad a few had died of fright but the rest would come back to normal and the world was saved hunger was their greatest problem for despite Kay's hurried flight to the nearest occupied post it was difficult to convince the Federation officials that the devils were really gone, buried beneath a mile of crumbled earth, and Kay had to be back to mop up other smaller bands

that had spread through the forests. It was six months before the last of the monsters had been obliterated, and then Kay, now one of the highest officials in the Federation's service, was granted a Lunarian's leave of absence, pending his taking command of an Antarctic expedition for the purpose of destroying the remaining monsters in their lair he took this opportunity to get married to ruth in the church of his native town which was on fete for the occasion thinking of cliff kay asked his bride as she sat on his plane before they started for the honeymoon in the adirondacks well i think you would be happy if he knew he saved the world dear he gave his best and

And that was all he wanted. Out of the dreadful deaths. Rout thought reached languidly for a cigarette act, with lazy fingers, extracted a lighter from his pocket. Be a sport, he repeated to the grey-haired man across the table. Be a sport, Admiral. Send me a cross on a destroyer. Never been on a destroyer, except to be a. in port. It had, well, it'd be a new experience. I'd enjoy it a lot. In the palm-shaded veranda

of this clubhouse in Manila, Admiral Struthers, USN, regarded with undisguised his favour the young man in the wicker chair. He looked at the deep chest and the broad shoulders, which even a loose white coat could not conceal, at the short wavy brown hair and the slow, friendly smile on the face below. I like it will chat this thought, but But lazy, just an idler, he concluded. Been playing around Manila for the last two months. Resting up, he'd said. But from what?

The Admiral had questioned this disdainfully. Admiral Struthers did not like indolent young men, but it would have saved him money if he'd really got an answer to his question, and had learned just why and how Robert Thorpe had earned a vacation. You, on a destroyer, he said. and the lips beneath the close-cut grey moustache twisted into a smile. Ah, that'd be too rough an experience for you, I'm afraid, Thorpe. Destroyer's pitch about quite a bit, you know.

He included in his smile the destroyer captain and the young lady who completed their party. The young lady had a charming and saucy smile, and she knew it. She used it in reply to the Admiral's remark. Oh, I've asked Mr. Thorpe to go on the Adelaide, she said. we should be leaving together in another month, but Robert tells me he has other plans. Worse and worse, was the Admiral's comment. Your father's yacht is not even as steady as a destroyer.

Now I would suggest a nice, comfortable liner. Robert Thorpe did not miss the official glances of amusement, but his calm complacence was unruffled. No, he said, I just don't fancy liners, The fact is I've been thinking of sailing across to the States alone. The Admiral's smile increased to a short laugh. I would make a bet you wouldn't get 50 miles from Manila Harbour. The younger man crushed his cigarette slowly into the train.

How much of a bet? he asked. Will you bet that I don't sail alone from here to... Where are you stationed, San Diego? From here to San Diego. was a snotted reply. I bet a thousand dollars on that and take your money for Miss O'Leer's pet charity. Now that's an idea, said Thorpe. You reach for a checkbook in his inner pocket and began to write.

Oh, in case I lose, he explained. I might be hard to find, so I'll just ask Miss O'Leer to hold this check for me. You can do the same. He handed the check to the girl. Win against his thousand back, Ruth. Loses money goes to any little orphans you happen to fancy. Oh, you're not serious, protested the Admiral. Sure, the bank will take that check seriously, I promise you.

And I saw just the sloop I won for the trip. Had my eye on her for the past month. But Robert, began Ruth a lad. You don't mean to risk your life on a foolish bet. Thorpe reached over to pat tenderly the hand that held his chair. I'm glad if you care, he said, and there was an undertone of seriousness beneath his raillery. But save your sympathy for the Admiral,

the US Navy gab bluff me. He then rose more briskly from his chair. Ah, Thorpe, said Admiral Struthers. He was thinking deeply, trying to recollect. Robert Thorpe I have a book by someone of that name Travel and adventure and knocking about the world Young man are you the be Robert Thorpe

Why um yes if you wish to put it that way Agreed the other He waved lightly to the girl as he moved away I must be running along He said And get that boat I'll see you all in San Diego The first rays of the sun

Touched with golden fingers The tops of the lazy swells of the Pacific Here and there a wave broke to spray Under the steady wind And became a shower of molten metal And in the boat Whose sails caught now and then The touch of morning

Robert Thorpe stirred himself And rose sleepily to his feet Out of the snug cabin At this first hint of day He looked first at the comfort and checked his course, then made sure of the lashing about the helm. The steady trade winds had borne him on through the night, and he nodded with satisfaction as he prepared to lower his lights.

He was reaching for a line as the little craft hung for an instant on the top of a wave, and in that instant his eyes caught a marking of white on the dim waters ahead. Ah, breakers! he shouted aloud, and leapt for the lashed wheel. He swung off to leeward and eased a bit on the main sheet, then lashed the wheel again to hold on the new course. Again from a wave-cresty stared from under a sheltering hand. The breakers were there, the smooth swirls were foaming, breaking in mid-ocean where his chart, he knew, showed water a mile deep.

Beyond the white line was a three-master, a sail shivering in the breeze. The big sailing ship swung off on a new tack as he watched. Was she dodging those breakers, he wondered. And then he stared in amazement through the growing light of the unbroken swells where the white line had been. He rubbed his sleepy eyes with the savage hand and stared again. There were no breakers.

The sea was an even expanse of heaving water. I could swear I saw them, he told himself, but forgot this perplexing occurrence in the still more perplexing manoeuvres of the sailing ship. This steady wind for smooth handling was all that such a craft could ask. Here was this old timer of the sea with a full spread of canvas booming and cracking as the ship jibed. She rolled far over as he watched, recovered, and tore off in a long sweeping circle. The one-man crew of the little sloop should have been preparing breakfast,

as he had for many mornings past. But instead he swung his little craft into the wind and watched for nearly an hour the erratic rushes and shivering haltings of this larger ship. But long before this time had passed, Thorpe knew he was observing the aimless manoeuvres of an unmanned vessel. And he watched his chance for a closer inspection.

The three-master, Mini Ar, from the dinghy painting of the stern hung quivering in the wind when he boarded her. There was a broken log line that swept down from the stern and he caught this and made his own boat first.

Then, watching his chance, he drew close and went overboard the line in his hand. Ah, like a blooming native after coconuts, he told himself as he went up the side. But he made it and put himself over the rail as the ship grew off on another tap.

Thorpe looked quickly about the deserted deck. Oh, he shouted, but the straining of rope and spars was his only answer. Canvas was whipping to ribbons. Sheets cracked their frayed ends like lashes as the boom swung wildly, but a few cells still held and caught the air. He was on the after deck,

and he leapt first for the wheel that was kicking and whirling with the swing of the rudder. A glance at the canvas that still drew, and he set her on course with a few steadying pause. There was rope lying about, and he lashed the wheel with a quick turn or two, and watched the ship steady down to a smooth slicing of the waves from the west. And only then did the man take time to quiet his panting breath, and look about him in the unnatural quiet of this strangely deserted deck. He shouted again and walked to a companion way to repeat the hail.

Only an echo, sounding hollily from below, replied to break the vile silence. It was puzzling, inconceivable. Thorpe looked about him to note the lifeboat snug and undisturbed in their places. No sign there of an abandonment of the boat, but abandoned she was, as the silence told only too plainly. And Thorpe, as he went below, had an uncanny feeling of the crew's presence. as if they had been there, walked where he walked, shouted and laughed a matter of a brief hour or two before. The door of the captain's cabin was burst in, hanging drunkenly from one hinge. The logbook was open. There were papers on a rude desk.

The bunk was empty where the blankets had been thrown, hurriedly assigned. Thorpe could almost see the skipper of this mystery ship leaping frantically from his bed at some sudden call of commotion. A chair was smashed and broken, and the man who examined it, curiously wiped from his hands of a disgusting slime that was smeared stickily on the splintered fragments. There was a fetid stench within his nostrils, and he passed up further examination of this room. Ford in the forecastle, he felt again irresistibly the recent presence of the crew, and again he found silence and emptiness and a disorder that told of a fear-stricken flight. the odour that sickened and nauseated the exploring man was everywhere he was glad to gain the freedom of the wind-swept deck and rid his lungs at the vile breath within the vessel

he stood silent and bewildered there was not a living soul aboard this ship no sign of life he started suddenly a moaning whimpering cry coming from the fore-deck thorpe leapt across a disorder of tangled rope to race to a the bow. He stopped short at sight of a battered cage. Again, the moaning came to him. There was something that still lived on board this ill-fated ship. He drew closer to see a great, huddled, furry mass that crouched and cowed in a corner of the cage. A huge ape, thought concluded, and it moaned and whimpered absurdly like a human in abject fear. Had this been the terror that drove the men to the sea. How this ape escaped and menaced the officers and crew? Well, Thorpe dismissed the thought.

He knew this was absurd. The stout wood bars of the cage were broken. It had been partially crushed, and the chain that held it to the deck was extended to its full length. Oh, too much for me, the man said slowly. Entirely too much for me. But I can't sell this old hooker alone. I'll have to get her out.

out and let her drift. He removed completely one of the splintered bars from the broken cage. Oh, I've got to leave you, old fellow, he told the carry animal, but I'll give you run of the ship. He went below once more and came quickly back with a logbook and papers from the captain's room. He tied these in a tight wrapping of oilcloth in the galley and hung them at his belt. He took the wheel again and brought the cumbersome craft slowly into the wind. The bare mast of his own sloop was bobbing alongside as he went down the line and swum over to her.

Fending off from the wallowing hulk, he cut the line, and his small craft slipped slowly astern as the big vessel fell off in the wind and drew lumberingly away on its unguided course. She vanished into the clear-cut horizon before the watching man ceased his staring and pricked a point upon his chart that he estimated was his position. and he watched vainly for some sign of life on the heaving waters, as he set his sloop back on her easterly course. It was a suntan young man who walked with brisk strides into the office of Admiral Straubbers. The gold-striped arm of the uniform man was extended in quick greeting. Ah, made it, did you? he exclaimed. Congratulations.

All okay, Thorpe agreed. Ship and log are ready for your very important. occasion. Talk sense, said the officer. Have any trouble or excitement? Or perhaps you are more interested in collecting a certain bet than you are in discussing the trip. Damn the bet, said the young man fervently. That's just what I'm here for, to talk about the trip.

There was some little incidents that may interest you. And he painted for the Admiral in brief, terse sentences, the picture of that day break on the Pacific. The line of breakers, white in the vanishing night, the abandoned ship beyond, cracking her canvas to tatters in the freshening breeze. And he told of his boarding her and of what he'd found. Where was this? asked the officer. The thought gave his position as he checked it. I reported the derelict to a passing steam at that same day, he added. But the admiral was calling for a chance. He spread it all. on the desk before him and placed the tip of a pencil in the centre of an unbroken expense.

Breakers, you said, he questioned. Why? There are hundreds of fathoms here, Mr. Thorpe. Yeah, I know it. Thorpe agreed. But I saw them. A stretch of white water for an eighth of a mile. I know it's impossible, but it's true. But let's forget that item for a time, Admiral. Look at this. He opened a briefcase and took it.

He had a logbook and some other papers. The log of the Mini R, he explained briefly. Nothing in it but routine entries up to that morning, and then nothing at all. Abandoned, mused the Admiral, and they didn't take the boats. There have been other instances never explained. See if this helps any, suggested Thorpe and handed the other two sheets of paper over. during the captain's cabin he added admiral struthers glanced at them and settled back in his chair dated september fourth he said that had been the day previous to the time you found her the writing was plain in a careful well-formed hand he cleared his throat and read aloud written by jeremiah wilkins of salem massachusetts master of the minnie are bound for shanghai to sampan I've sailed the seas for forty years.

The first time I'm afraid. I hope I may destroy this paper when the lights of San Pedro are safe in sight, but I'm writing here what it would shame me to set down in the ship's log. Though I know there are stranger happenings on the face of the waters than man has ever seen or has lived to tell. All this day, I've been filled with fear. I've been watched. I've felt it as surely as if a devil out of hell. stood beside me with his eyes fastened on mine. The men have felt it too.

They've been frightened of nothing and have tried to conceal it as I've done. And the animals, a shark has followed us for days. It's gone today. The cats, we have three on board. Have howled horribly and have hidden themselves in the cargo down below.

The maid is bringing a big monkey to be sold in Los Angeles. An orangutan, he calls it. It's an ugly brute, shaking at the bars of its cage and showing its ugly teeth ever since we left port. But today, it's crouched in a corner of its cage and will not stir even for food.

The poor beast is in mortal terror. All this is more like the wandering talk of an old woman muttering in a corner by the fireside of witches and the like than it is like a truthful account set down by Jeremiah Wilkins. And now, now that I've written it, I see there's nothing to tell,

nothing but the shameful account. out of my fear of some horror beyond my knowing. And now that it's written, I'm tempted to destroy... No, I'll wait. Hmm. And now what's this? Admiral Struthers interrupted his reading to ask.

He turned the paper to read a course, slanting scrawl at the bottom of the page. The eyes... The eyes, they're everywhere above us. Oh, God help! Then the writing trailed off in a straggling line. The lips beneath the trim grey moustache drew themselves into a hard line. It was a moment before Admiral Struthers raised his eyes to meet those of Robert Thor.

He found this in the captain's cabin, he asked. Yes. And the captain was gone. Bloodstains? No, but the door had been burst off its hinges. There had been a struggle without a doubt. The officer mused for a minute or two. Did they go aboard another vessel?

He pondered. Abandoned ship, open the Seacocks, sink it for the insurance. He was trying vainly to find some answer to the problem, some explanation that would not impose too great a strain upon his own reason. I've reported to the owners, said Thorpe. The mini R was not heavily insured. The Admiral ruffled some papers on his desk to find a report. "'There has been another,' he told Thorpe.

"'A tram freighter is listed as missing. "'She was last reported due east of the position you give. "'She was coming this way. "'Must have come through about the same water.' "'He caught himself up abruptly, "'and Thorpe sensed that an admiral of the Navy "'must not lend too credulous an ear to impassable stories. "'Well, you've had an interesting experience, Mr. Thorpe,' he said.

most interesting I probably a derelict is the answer somehow just afloat we'll send out a general warning he handed the loose papers and the long book back to the younger man this stuff is rubbish he stated with emphasis

Captain Wilkins held his command a year or so too long so you'll do nothing about it Thorb asked in astonishment I said I'd warn all shipping There's nothing more to be done. Well, I think there is. Thorpe's gray eyes were steady as he regarded the man at the desk.

I intend to run it down. There have been other such instances, as you said, never explained. I mean to find the answer. Admiral Struthers smiled indulgently. Always after excitement, he said, You'll be writing another book, I expect. I shall look forward to read it. "'But just what are you going to do?'

"'I'm going to the islands,' said Thorpe, quietly. "'I'm going to charter a small ship of some sort, "'and I'm going to go out there and camp on that spot in the hope of seeing those eyes and what's behind them. "'I'm leaving tonight.' "'Aimorstruthers lean back to indulge in a hearty laugh. "'I refused you a passage on a destroyer once,' he said, "'and it was an expensive mistake. "'I don't make the same.

mistake twice. Now, I'm going to offer you a trip. The Bennington is leaving today on a cruise to Manila. I'll hold her an extra hour or two if you'd like to go. She can drop you at Honolulu or wherever you say. Lieutenant Commander Brent is in commands. You remember him in Manila, of course. Fine, thought responded. I'll be there. And he added, as he took the Admiral's hand. If I didn't object to betting on a sure thing, I'd make you a little proposition. I'd bet any money that you

give your shirt to go along. I never bet either, said Admiral Struthers. On a sure loss. Now, get out of here, you young troubleshooter, and let the Navy get to work. His eyes were twinkling as he waved the young man out.

Bart two. Thorpe found himself comfortably fixed on the Bennington. Brent, her commander, was a fine example of the aggressive young chaps at the destroyer fleet breeds, and he liked to play cribbage, Thorpe found. They were pegging away industriously the sixth night out when the first SOS reached them. A message was placed before the commander. He read it and tossed it to Thorpe as he rose from his chair. "'SOS,' said the radio sheet.

"'Nagas Akimaru, 2435 north, 158 west, "'struck something unknown, down at the bow, "'may need help, please stand by.' "'Captain Brent had left the room. "'A moment later, in the quiver and tremble "'of the Bennington told Thorpe they were running full speed "'for the position of the stricken ship. "'But—'

"'24-35-n-n-n-nobes. north he mused on less than two degrees west of where the poor old minnie are got hers i wonder i wonder we'll be there in four hours said captain brent on his return hope she lasts but what have they struck out there derelict probably though she should have had admiral struthers's warning robert thorpe made no reply other than we'd hear a minute brent I have something to show you. He hadn't told the officer of his mission, nor of his experience, but he did so now, and he placed behind him the wildly improbable statement of the late Captain Wilkins. "'Something is there,' surmised Captain Brent. "'Just a wash, probably. No superstructure visible. "'Your mini R had the same thing.'

"'Something is there,' Thorpe agreed. "'I wish I knew what.' "'This stuff has gotten to you, hasn't it?' asked Brent, as he returned the papers of Captain Wilkins. He was quite evidently amused at the thought. "'You weren't on the ship,' said Thorpe simply. "'There was nothing to see, nothing to tell. But I know. "'You follow Brent, then, to the wireless room.' "'Can you get the Nagasaki?' Brent asked.

"'I know we're coming, sir,' said the operator. "'We seem to be the only one. anywhere near. He handed the captain another message. It's something odd about that, he said. USS Bennington, the captain read aloud. We're still afloat. Uneven keel now, but low in the water. No water coming in. Engines full speed ahead. But we make no headway. Apparently a ground. Nagasaki Muru. Hmm. Why, that's impossible. Brent exclaimed impatiently. What kind of foolishness?

He left that question uncompleted. The radio man was writing rapidly. Some message was coming at top speed. Both Brent and Thorpe leaned over the man's shoulder to read as he wrote. Bennington, help, the pencil was writing. Sinking fast. Desks almost awash. We are being...

In breathless silence, they watched the pencil, poised above the paper while the operator listened tensely to the side. silent night. Again, his ear received the wild jumble of dots and dashes sent by a frenzy's hand in that far-off room. His pencil automatically set down the words, Help! Help!

It wrote before thought's spellbound gaze. The eyes! The eyes! It's attacking! And again, the black night held only the rush and roar of torn waters, where the destroyer raced through quivering darkness. The message, as the waiting men well knew, would never be completed. Derelict, Robert Thorpe exclaimed with unconscious scorn.

But Captain Brent was already at a communication tube. Chief, Captain Brent, give her everything you've got. Drive the Bennington faster than she ever went before. The slim ship was a quivering lance of steel that threw itself through foaming waters, that shot with an endless, roaring surge of speed toward that distant point in the heaving waste of the Pacific, and that seemed, to the two silent men on the bridge, to put the dragging miles behind them so slowly, so slowly.

Hmm, let me see those papers, said Captain Brent finally, and he read them in silence. And then, the eyes, he said. The eyes. That's what this poor devil said. My God, Thorpe, what is it? Or can it be? We're not all insane.

I don't know what I expected to find, said Thorpe slowly. I thought of many things, each wilder than the next. His Captain Wilkins said the eyes were above him. I had visions of some sky monster. He even thought of some strange aircraft from out in space, perhaps, with round lights like eyes. I've pictured the impossibilities, but now, well, now. Yes, the other questioned. Now?

There were tales in olden times with the Cracken, suggested Thorpe. The Cracken, the Captain scoffed, a mythical master of the sea. That was just a fable. True, was the quiet reply. It was just a fable, and one of the things I've learned is how frequently there's a basis of fact underlying a fable, and for that matter, how can we know there's no such monster, some relic of a mesozoic species supposed to be instinct? He stirred motionless, then, staring far out ahead into the dark, and Brent, too, was

silent. They seemed to try with unaided eyes to penetrate the dark miles ahead and see what their sane minds refused to accept. It was still dark when the searchlight's sweeping beam picked up the black hull and broad red-striped funnels of the Nagasaki Maroo. She was riding high in the water, and her big bulk rolled and wallowed in the trough of the great swells. The Bennington swept in a swift circle about the helpless Hulk, while the lights played incessantly upon her decks. And the watching eyes strained vainly for some signal to betoken life, for some sign that

their mad race had not been quite in vain. Her engines had been shut down. There was no steerage way for the Nagasaki Maru ant, for all they could see, there were no human hands to drag at the levers of her waiting engines, nor to twirl with sure touch the deserted help. The Nagasaki Maru was abandoned. The lights held steadily upon her as the Bennington came alongside,

and a boat was swung out smartly on its davits, but Thorpe knew he was not alone in his wild surmise, to the cause of the catastrophe. Throw your lights around the water occasionally, Brent ordered. Let me know if you see anything. Yes, sir, said the man at the searchlight. I'll report if I spot any survivors or boats.

Report anything you see, said Commander Brent, curly. You go aboard if you want to, he suggested to Thorpe. I'll stay here and be ready if you need help. Thorpe nodded with approval, as the small boat pulled away in the dark, for there was activity apparent on the destroyer, not warranted by a mere rescue at sea. Gun crews rushed to their stations.

The tarpauling covers were off of the guns, and their slender lengths gleamed where they covered the course of the boat. Bread is ready, Thorpe admitted, for anything. They found the iron ladder against the ship's side, and a sailor sprang for it and made his way aboard. Fork was not the last to set foot on the deck, and he shuddered involuntarily at the eerie silence he knew awaited them. It was the mini-R all over again, as he expected, but with a difference.

The sailing vessel, before he'd boarded it, had been for some time exposed to the sun, while the Nagasaki Maru had not. And here there were slimy trails still wet on the decks. We went first to the wireless room. He must know the fire. final answer to that interrupted message, and he found it in emptiness. No radio man was waiting for him there, nor even a body to show the loser of an unequal battle.

But there was blood on the door jam, where a body, the man's body, thought was sure, had been smashed against the wood. A whisper of black hair in the blood gave its mute evidence of the hopeless fight, and the slime, like the trails on the deck, smeared with odorous vowness in the whole room. Thorpe went again to the deck, and, as on the other ship, he breathed deeply to rid his lungs and nostrils of the abhorrent stench. The ensign in charge at the boarding party approached him. What kind of rotten mess is this?

He demanded. The ship is filthy and not a soul on board. Not a man of them, offices or crew, and the boats are all here. It's absolutely amazing, isn't it? No, Thorpe responded. It's about what we expected. What do you make of this? He touched with his foot a broad trail that shone wet in the Bennington's light.

Oh, the Lord knows, said the ensign in wonder. It's all over and it smells like a rotten dead fish. Well, we'll be going back, sir. He called to a petty officer to round up the men, and the boat was brought alongside. They returned to the Bennington again through a pathway of light that Thorpe knew was safe under the black muzzles of the destroyer's guns. Or was it?

He asked himself. Was it safe? Was anything safe from this devilish mystery that could pluck each cowering human from the lowest depths of this steel freighter that could drag her down in the water till the radio man sent his cry? We're sinking.

He told Brent quietly, after the ensign had reported, of the struggles in the wireless room and its few remaining traces. And he watched with the commandant, under through the hour of darkness, while the Bennington steamed in slow circles about the abandoned hulk, while her searchlights played endlessly over the empty waters, and the men at the guns cast wandering glances at their skipper who'd ordered such strange procedure when no danger was there. With daylight the scene lost its sense of mysterious threat, the thought was eager

to return to the abandoned ship. I might find something, he said, some trace or indication of what we have to fight. I must leave, said Commander Brent. Oh, I'm coming back, never fear, he added, at the look of dismay on thought's face. The thought of leaving this mystery unsolved was more than that young seeker of adventure could accept. I'm coming back, Brent repeated. I've been in communication with the Admiral.

Honolulu has relayed the messages through. All code, of course. It mustn't alarm the whole Pacific with our nice. The old man says to stick around and get the lowdown on this damn thing. Then why leave, objected Thorpe? Because I am coming around to your way of thinking, Thorpe. Because I am as certain as can be that we have a monster of some sort to deal with. Because I haven't any depth charges, I want to run up to the supply station at Honolulu

and get a couple of ash cans of TNT to lay on top of the brute if we cite him. Glory B, said Thorpe. fervently. That sounds like business. Go get your eggs and perhaps we can feed them to this devil, raw. I think I'll stay here, if you'll be back by dark, that is. Oh, better not, the other objected. But Thorpe overruled him. This thing attacks in the dark, he said. I'll lay a little bet on that. It left the orangutang on the mini-ar. Quit the first sign of daylight. I'll be safe through the day, and besides the beast has gutted this ship. It won't return, I imagine. And if I stay

here for the day, live as they lived, the men who manned in that ship, and I may have some information that will be of help when you get back. But for heaven's sake, Brent, don't stop to pick any flowers on the way. Oh, it's your funeral, said Brent, not too cheerfully. The old man said to give you every assistance, and perhaps that includes helping you commit suicide. But Robert Thorpe only laughed, his commander Brent gave his orders for a small boat to be lowered. The ship's lantern and rockets for night signals were taken at the office's orders. We'll be bad before dark, he said, but take these as a precaution.

Well, Thorpe asked for one favor, and the ship's carpenter go over with him and help him make a strong barred retreat of the wireless cabin. Oh, okay, and I'll talk to you occasionally, he told Brum. rent. I tried the key while I was aboard. The wireless is working on his batteries. He then waved a cheery goodbye as a small boat pulled away, and hurry back, he called. The destroyer commander nodded an emphatic assent. On board the Nagasaki Maru, Thorpe directed the carpenter and his helpers in the work he wanted done. The man seemed to know instinctively where to put his hands on the needed supplies, and the result was a virtual cage of strong oak bars enclosing the wireless room and braces of oak to bar the single door.

Thorpe was not assuming any bravado in his feeling of safety, but he was doing what he'd done in many other tight corners, and he prepared his defences in advance. These included weapons of offense as well. As the boat with the destroyer's men pulled back to the Bennington, he placed an easy reach in the corner of the room a heavy calibreed rifle he'd taken from his belongings. And still, with all his feeling of security, there was a strange depression that fell upon him when the Bennington's narrow hull was small upon the horizon, and then that too was gone,

and only the heaving swells and the wallowing hulk were his companions. Only these. He shivered slightly as he thought of that unseen watcher with the devil eyes whose presence Captain Wilkins had felt, and his men, and that poor terrified ape. He deliberately put from his mind the thought of this No use to start the day with morbid fears He went below then to examine the cabins

But he carried the heavy elephant gun with him wherever he went Below decks the signs of the marauder were everywhere Yet there was little to be learned The slimy trails had dry quickly and vanished But not before Thorpe had traced them to the uttermost depths of the ship There was not a nook or corner that had gone unsearched in the horrible quest for human food and one thing impressed itself forcibly upon the man's mind he found a lantern and used it of necessity in his explorations but this thing had gone through the dark and with unerring certainty had found its way to every victim hmm can it see in the dark thought questioned or he visioned dimly some denizen of the vast depths living beyond the limits of the sun

penetration, far in the abysmal darkness where its only light must be self-made. But his mind failed in the attempt to picture what manner of horror this thing might be. Even in the hold its evil traces were found. There were tears of metal drums that still shone wet in his lanterns light. Calcium carbide, for making acetylene, he supposed, marked made in the USA. The Nagasaki must have been westward bound. he went after an hour or so back to the wireless room and only when he relaxed in the safety of his improvised fortress did he realize how tense had been every nerve and muscle through his long search he tried the wireless and got an instant response from the destroyer don't shoot it too fast he spelled out slowly to the distant operator i'm only a dub just wanted to say hello and report all is okay fine was a steady careful response. We've had a little trouble with our condensers. There's a short pause. Then the message

continued. This portion dictated by the commander. Delay not important. We'll be back as agreed. Have picked up SS Adelaide bound east in your latitude. Want her to take northerly course on account of derelict. See you later. Signed Brent. Commander, USS Bennington. The man in the barred room tapped off his his acknowledgement and closed the key. He suddenly realized he'd had no breakfast, and the hours had been slipping past. He took his gun again and went down to the galley to prepare some coffee. It was not the time or place for an enjoyable meal, but he would have relished it more had he not pitched at the Adelaide and her lovely owner steaming across these threatening seas.

Well, he knew the captain of the Adelaide, an obstinate pig-headed old Scotchman. Hope he takes Brent's advice. Of course, Brent couldn't tell him the truth. Well, of course, Brent couldn't tell him the truth. We can't blad this wild yarn all over the air, while the passenger lines would have our scalps. But I wish the Adelaide was safe in Manila. His explorations in the afternoon were half-hearted and perfunctory.

There's nothing more to be learned, but he had at least seen in his mind some vague outline of what they must meet. he saw a something mammoth huge that could grasp and hold an ocean freighter against whose great body he'd seen the waves dashed in a line of white spray and yet a something that could force its way down narrow passages could press with terrific strength on bolted doors and crushed them inward wrecked and splintered some serpentine thing that felt and saw its way and crawled so surely through the dark found its prey seized it and carried off. off a man as easily as it might amouse. No, no octopus, no matter what proportions filled this description. He gave up trying to see too clearly this awful thing, and he kept far away from the ship's rail where once he'd ventured near. For there had come to him a feeling of fear that had sent the waves of cold

trickling and prickling up his spine. Was there something really there, awaiting lurking horror in the depths? "'The eyes,' he thought. "'The eyes!' And he went more quickly than he knew to his barred retreat where again he might breathe quietly. The position of the deserted ship

was south of the regular steamer lanes on the trans-Pacific run. Only a trace of smoke on the northern horizon marked through the afternoon in the passage of other craft. It was a long and lonely vigil for the waiting man. But the Bennington would return

and he listened in at intervals hoping to hear her friendly signal. The batteries operating the Nagasaki's wireless were none too strong. Thoughts saved their strength, though he tried at times to raise the Bennington somewhere beyond his reach. The sun was touching the horizon when he got his first response. Keep up the old nerve, admonished the slow, careful sending of the Bennington's operator. We've been delayed, but we're on our way, signed Brent.

The man in the wireless room placed. the oak bars across the door, and tried to believe he was nonchalant and unafraid as he laid out extra clips of cartridges, but his eyes persisted in following the sinking sun, and he watched from within his cage the coming of the quick dark. The protecting glare of day must be unbearable to this monster from the lightless depths, and daylight was vanishing. Thorpe's mind was searching for an additional means of defence. He found it in the cargo he'd seen, the drums of carbide he could scatter it on the deck it reacted with water and those slimy arms if they came and touched it could find the contact hot he took his lantern and went hastily below

to stagger back with a drum upon his shoulder in the half-light that was left him he forced the cover and then rolled the drum about the swaying deck the grey earthly lumps of carbide formed erratic lines useless perhaps he admitted but but the threatening dark forced the man to use every means at his command. Part 3. He was scattering the contents of a second drum, when he stiffened abruptly to rigid attention. The ship, thrown broadside to the wide space swells,

had rolled endlessly with a monotonous motion. But now the deck beneath him was steadying. It assumed an abnormal levelness. the boat rose and fell with the waves but it no longer rolled there was something beneath holding it drawing on it thought knew in that frozen second what this meant the drum clattered to the rail as he dashed for his room gun in hand he watched with staring eyes where the deserted deck showed dim and vague in the light of the stars and the bow of the ship was lost in the uncertain dark of night wide-eyed he watched into the blackness, and he listened with desperate attention for some slightest sound beyond the splashing of waves and the creaking of spars. Far in the west, a light appeared, to glow and vanish and glow again in the tumbling waters. The Bennington!

His heart leaped at the thought, and then sank as he knew the destroyer's lights would not appear from that direction. Through a slow hour that seemed in eternity, the oncoming ship drew near, and he, He knew with a sudden, startling certainty that it was the Adelaide and Ruth Allaire, coming on, threw into the horror awaiting. He leaned forward tensely as a sound reached his ears. A ghostly echo of a sound, like the softest of smooth, slipping fabric upon hard steel. And as he listened, before his staring eyes,

something came between him and the lighted yacht. It waved and swung in the darkness It was formless, uncertain of outline And it swung in the night out beyond the ship's rail Till it suddenly neared, waved high overhead And the cold light of the stars shone in pale reflection From an enormous, staring, eye It surmounted serpentine form

That took shape in the dim radiance without And came lower in undulating folds to crash heavily upon the deck. Thought his hand was upon the wireless key. He'd wanted to warn off the yacht, but not till the thud of the creature on the bare deck proved its reality, could he force his cold fingers to press the key?

Then, fast as his inexperience allowed, he frantically called the Adelaide. He spelled a name over and over. Would the sleepy operator never answer? The Bennington broke in. one is that you thorpe what's up they demanded but thorpe kept up his slow spelling of the yacht's name he must get a warning to them and then he realized that the bennington could do it better bennington he called adelaide approaching i'm attacked warn them off warn them this frantic hissing dots and dashes died immediately beneath his feet the nagasaki maru was rolling again, swinging free to the lift and thrust of the swells beneath.

Oh, good God, he shouted aloud in his lonely cabin. It's gone for the yacht. Adelaide, turn north full speed. He then clipped off on a slow, stuttering key. Head north, you're being attacked. He groaned again as he saw the Adelaide's shining port swing away from the safety of the north. The ship broached broadside of the waves and came slowly to a stone. stop. Bennington, he radioed.

Brent, it's got the Adelaide. Help, hurry, I'm going over. He tore wildly at the barred door, and he made a dash across the deck to slip sprawling in a heap against the rail where the slimy traces of the recent visitor stretched glistening on the deck. Well, how he lowered the boat, Thorpe never knew.

But he knew there was one. The man from the Bennington swung over the side, and tore madly at the tackle to let the boat crash miraculously upright into the sea. He slung the rifle about his neck with a rope end. There were cartridges in his pocket, and he went down the dangling lines and cast off in a frenzy of haste. What could he do, though? He hardly dared form this question.

Only this stood clear and unanswerable in his mind. That yacht was in the monster's grip, and Ruth O'Lear was on board. Ruth O'Lear. so smiling so friendly so lovable food for that horror from the depths oh he rode with superhuman strength to drive the heavy boat across the wave-swept distance that separated them between gasping breaths he turned at times to glance over his shoulder and correct his course and now as he drew near he saw though indistinct the unmistakable snake-like weaving of horrible tenuous fingers fingers rolling and groping about the yachts. They were plain as he drew alongside. The trim ship rose and fell with the water, while over her side where Thorpe approached, swung

a long, white, monstrous rope of flesh. It retreated like the lash of a whip, and the horrified watcher saw as it went, the struggling figure of a man in the grasp of flabby lips, and above them a single eye glared wickedly. another vile, twisting arm rose from the afterdeck with a screaming figure in its grasp and vanished into the water beyond the yacht. There were others writhing about the decks. Thorpe saw them as he made his boat fast

and clambered aboard. A wave of reeking air enveloped him as he reached the deck. The nauseous stench from the monster's tentacles was horrible beyond endurance. Oh, he gagged and choked as the stifling breath entered his lungs. The huge rope of slippery, throbbing flesh stretched its twisted length toward the stern.

It contracted as he watched into bulging muscular rings and withdrew from the after-deck. At the edly end of it stopped in mid-air, not twenty feet from where he stood. The jaw-light pincers on it held the limp form of an officer in its sucking grip, while above, in a protuberance like a gnarled horn, a great eye glared into Thorpe's with devilish hatred. The beak opened sharply to drop its unconscious burden upon the deck, and the watching man, petrified with horror, saw within the gaping more great sucking discs,

and beyond them a brilliant glow. The whole cavernous pit was aflame with phosphorescent light. Dimly, he knew that this light explained the ability of the beast's arms to grope so surely in the dark. The eye narrowed as the gaping, fleshy jaws distended, and Robert Thorpe, in a flash that galvanized him into action, was aware that his fight for life was on. He fired blindly from the hip,

and the recoil of the heavy gun almost tore it from his hands. But he knew he had aimed true, and the toothless, seeking jaws whipped in agony back into the sea. There were other arms who saw, eyes were searching the stern of the yacht. Thought plunged franzedly down a companion way for the cabin he knew was Ruth Alas. Was he in time? Could he save her if he even found her? His mind was in a turmoil of half-form plans as he rushed madly down the corridor, to find the body of the girl a limp huddle across the threshold of her cabin. She was alive. He knew

it as he swung her soft body across one shoulder and staggered with his burden. up the stairs. Oh, if he could only breathe. His throat was tight and strangling with a reeking putrescence in the air, and before his eyes was a picture of the strong oak bars of his own retreat. Somehow, some way, he must get back to the abandoned ship. An eye detected him as he came on deck, and he dropped the limp body of the girl at his feet as he swung his rifle toward the glowing light within the opening jaws. The sucking discs cupped and wrinkled in dread readiness in the fleshy, toothless opening. He emptied the magazine into the head,

though he knew this was only a feeler and a feeder for a still more horrible mouth in the monstrous body that rose and fell tremendously in the dark waters beyond. And it was typical of Robert Thorpe that, even in the horror and frenzy of the moment, he rammed another clip of cartridges into his rifle before he stooped to again raise the prostrate figure of Ruth O'Leare. The Ford deck for the moment was clear

It rose high with the weight of the writhing Twisting arms that weighed down the stern of the yacht Where the crew had taken refuge To think of helping them was worse than folly And he dismissed the thought As another great eye came over the rail Once more he used the gun Then lower the girl to the waiting boat

And cast off and rode with the stealthiest of strokes into the dark Behind him were whipping points of light above the white brilliance of the yacht Adelaide. The boat was tossing in great waves that came from beyond where some body,

some incredibly huge body, was tearing the waters to foam. There were ghostly arms that shone in slimy wetness that lashed searchingly in all directions as the monster gave vent to its fury at Thorpe's attack. There were screaming human figures grasped

in many of the jaws and the man was glad with a great thankfulness that the girl's stupor could save her from this frightful sight. He dared to row now, and his breath was coming in great choking sobs of sheer exhaustion when at last he pulled the senseless form of Ruthillair to the deck of the Nagasaki,

and drew her within the frail shelter of the wireless room. Well, the oak and bars had appeared stout and safe. His refuge was in the barricaded room, but, well, that was before he'd seen the horrible reality of the fearful fury of this monster from the deep. He placed the braces against the door and turned with hopeless haste to seize the wireless key. Bennington, he called,

and the answer came strong and clear. Where are you? Help! His fingers froze upon the key and the answering message in his ears was unheeded as he watched across the water, the destruction of the yacht. This craft that had dared to resist the onset of the brute, to fight against it, to wound it, was now feeling the full fury of

the monster's rage. The gleaming lights of the doomed ship were waving lines that swept to and fro in the grip of those monstrous arms. The boat beneath Thorpe's feet was tossing in the waves that told of this titanic struggle. He meant to look south for some sign of the oncoming destroyer, but in fearful fascination he stared spellbound where the mast of the trim yacht swept downward into the waves, where the green of her starboard lantern glowed faintly for an instant, and then vanished, to leave only the darkness and the starlit sea. A voice awokened him from his stupefaction. Where am I? Where am I?

Ruth O'Lare was asking in a frightened whisper, That terrible thing! She shuddered violently as memory returned to show again the horror that she had witnessed. "'Where are we, Robert? And the Adelaide, where is it?' Thorpe turned slowly. The insane turmoil of the past hour had numbed his brain, stunned him completely. The Adelaide, he mumbled, and groped fumblingly for coherent thoughts. He stared at the girl. She was half-risen from the floor where he'd laid her, and the sight of her quivering face brought reason again to his mind. He knelt tenderly beside her and raised her in his arms.

"'Where's the yacht?' she repeated. "'The Adelaide.' "'It's gone,' Thorpe told her. "'Lost.' "'A thought struck him. "'Was your father on board, Ruth?' "'Ruth was dazed. "'Last,' she repeated.

"'The Adelaide, lost. "'No!' "'She added in belated response to Thorpe's question. "'Daddy was not there. "'But the men—' Captain McPherson, that horrible master. She buried a face in her hands as she realized what Thorpe's silence meant. He held the trembling figure close as the girl whispered.

Where are we, Robert? Are we safe? Oh, we may win through yet, he told her through grim, set lips. He realized abruptly that he was seen the face of Ruthaer in the light. He left a lantern burning. He withdrew his arms from about her from spring. sprang quickly to his feet to put out the tell-tale light. Their only possible safety was in darkness and quiet. But he knew as he sprang that he had waited too long.

A soft body crashed heavily on the deck outside. The girl's voice was shrill with terror, she began a question. Thoughts hand pressed upon her lips in the dark where he stood waiting. Waiting. A luminous something was glowing outside the cat. cabin. It searched and prodded about the deserted deck to whip upward at the audible hiss of wet carbide. Another appeared, and the rifle came slowly to the man's shoulders, a pair of jaws gaped glowingly beyond the windows, and an eye stared unblinkingly from its horn-like sheath.

It crashed madly against the walls of the wireless room to shatter the glass and make kindling of the woodwork of the sash. Thought fired once, and then again before the specter vanished. And he knew with sickening certainty that the wounds were only messages to some central brain that would send other ravening tentacles against them, but the oak bars had held. He reached in the brief interval for the key, and he sent out one final call for help. He strained his ears against the headset for some friendly human word of hope. Rocket, the wireless man was saying. Fire rockets. We can't fight.

A swift, writhing arm wrapped crushingly about the cabin as the message ceased. Thorpe seized his rifle and fired into the grey mass that bulged with terrible muscular contractions through the window. He fired again to aim lengthways of the arm and inflictors damaging a wound as his weapon would permit. The arm relaxed, but a score of others took up the attack. Again the sickening stench was about them as gaping jaws gleamed fiery beneath the hateful eyes

and tore at the flimsy structure. Thorpe jammed more cartridges into the gun and fired again and again, then dropped the weapon to fumble for the rockets that Brent had given him. He lit one with trembling fingers. The first ball shot straight into a waiting melt. Another ignited a searing flame of acetylene gas where a warm arm writhed in the hot carbide trail. Or the man leaned far out through the broken window.

No time to look around. He let the red flares stream upward high into the air, then dropped the rocket hissing on the deck to seize once more the rifle. A massive muscle crashed against the door. It went to splinters under the impact, and only the two oak bars remained to hold in check the horrible tentacles and the darting heads. One mouth closed to a pointed end that forced its way between the bars. The oak gave under the strain, as Robert Thorpe pulled vainly at an empty gun. beside him rose shrieks of terror as the monstrous thing came on and thought beat with frantic fury with his clubbed rifle at the fleshy snout he knew as

he swung the weapon that the shrieks had ceased then smiled grimly in the numbing horror as he realized that ruth a lair was beside him a piece of oak was in her hands and she was striking with desperate and silent fury at this slimy flesh it was the end thought knew and suddenly he was glad the nightmare was over and the end was coming with his girl beside him but robert thorpe was fighting on to the last and he tried to make his blows reach outward to the hateful devilish eye he saw it plainly now for the deck was a glare of white light he saw the eye and the thick arm behind it and the score of others that made a heaving knotted mass were brilliant and wetly shining he could see now how best to strike and he turned his gun to thrust with the barrel at the eye it withdrew before his stroke the jaw slid backward to the deck

there were sounds that hammered at his ears the guns guns a girl was screaming across the deck where a searchlight played huge arms were lashing backward toward the sea the waves beyond had vanished were a monstrous body shone wetly black in a blinding glare And the man hung panting, helpless, on the one remaining bar across the doorway to look where, beyond, her four guns are spitting stream of staccato flashes, the Bennington tore the waves to high-throw and spray.

Her four clean funnels swung far over as the slim ship with her stabbing, crashing guns, swung in a sweeping circle to bear down upon the black bulk slowly sinking in the searchlight's glare. The vast body had vanished as the destroyer shot like one of her own projectiles over the spot where the beast had lain. And then, where she'd passed, the sea arose in a heaving mound. The big ship beneath the watching man shuddered again as another death charge grumbled its challenge to the master of the deeps. The warship went careening on an arc to return and throw the full glare of her searchlights on the sea. They lit a vast sea, strangely still, and oily smoothness levelled waves

and ironed them out to show more clearly the convulsions of a torn mass that rose slowly into sight. Thorpe in some way found himself outside the cabin, and he knew that the girl was again beside him as he stared and stared at what the waters held. A bloated serpent form, beyond belief, was struggling in the greasy swell. its waving tentacles again were flung aloft in impotent fury and beneath them where their thick ends jointed the body the head with one horrible eye rose into the air a thick-lipped mouth gaped open and the gleam of molars shone white in the blinding glare

the twisting body shuddered throughout its vast bulk and the waving arms and futile staring eyes dropped helplessly into the splashing sea again the revolting head was raised as the destroyer sent a rain of shells into its fearful mass. Once more, the oily seas were calm. They closed over the whirling vortex for a denizen of the lightless depths was returning to those distant, subterranean caverns, returning as food for what other voracious monsters might still exist. A man's arm was now around the figure of the girl, trembling anew in a fresh reaction from the horror that they'd escaped.

when a small boat drew alongside. They're safe, a hoarse voice bellowed back to the destroyer, and a man came up a rope where Thorpe had launched his boat. And now, as if in a dream, Thorpe allowed the girl to be taken from him, to be lowered to the waiting boat. He clambered down himself,

and in silence was rowed across to the destroyer. Thank God, said Brent, as he met them at the rail. "'You're safe, old man, and Miss Oler, both of you. "'You'd off that rocket just in time. "'We couldn't pick you up with our light.' "'And now,' he added, "'we're going back, back to San Diego. "'The album wants a word of mouth report.

"'Thorpe stilled him with a heavy gesture. "'Give Ruth an opiate,' he said dully. "'Let her forget. "'Forget the God. Can we ever forget? He then stumbled forward, heedless of Brent's arm across his shoulders, as the surgeon took the girl in charge. Admiral Struthers leaned back from his desk

and blew a cloud of smoke thoughtfully toward the ceiling. He looked silently from Thorpe to Commander Brent. If either one of you would come to me with such a report, he said finally, I'd have found it incredible. I would have thought you were entirely insane, or trying some wild hoax. Well, I wish it were a damn lie, said thought quietly.

I wish I didn't have to believe it. There were new lines about his eyes, lines that spoke what the lips would not confess of sleepless nights and the impression of a picture he could not erase. Well, we've kept it out of the papers, said the Admiral. He said it was a derelict, and the wild messages floating about were from an inexperienced man, frightened and irresponsible.

Bad advertising, very much so, for the passenger lines. Quite, Commander Brent agreed. But of course Mr. Thorpe may want to use this in his next book of travel. He's earned that right without doubt. No, said Thorpe, emphatically. No, I told you, Brent, there was often a factual basis for fables, remember? Well, we've proved that, but some of them. Sometimes it's best just to leave the fables as that.

Just fables. I think you'll agree. A light step sounded in the corridor beyond. Look, nothing of this to Miss Allaire, he said sharply. The men rose as Ruth O'Lear entered the room. "'Ah, we were just speaking,' said the Admiral, with an engaging smile beneath his close-cut mustache. Of the matter of a bet Mr. Thorpe has won handily, and he's taught me a lesson. He took a check-book from his desk.

What charity would you like to name, Miss O'Lear? That was left to you, remember? Oh, um, some sea-man's home, said Ruth O'Lear gravely. You'll know best, if you two were really serious about that silly bat. That bed, my dear, said Robert Thorpe, with smiling eyes. It was very serious, and it has had most serious consequences. He turned to the waiting man and extended. and did a hand in farewell.

Now, uh, we're going to Europe, Ruth and I, he told them. Just rambling around a bit. Our honeymoon, you know. Well, look us up if you're cruising out that way. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks, as always, to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye. I don't know.