The camera was the same one he had adapted for night movies, during their adventure known as _Smugglers' Reef_. He had built an underwater case for it from stainless steel and Lucite. An intricate gear arrangement allowed him to focus or change aperture underwater, and a light meter in the rear of the case told him what setting to use. There was an ordinary inner-tube valve projecting from one side by which the case could be charged with compressed air to compensate for the pressure of the water. The unit was battery-powered and had a bracket for mounting the infrared light used for night photography.

He unscrewed the front of the case and took the camera from its mount.

He hesitated. "Suppose there's enough light down there for color film?"

"There might be," Scotty replied, "but you wouldn't gain much by using color. Everything would photograph in shades of green. Might as well have it in shades of gray."

"You've got a point." Rick loaded the camera with fast black-and-white film and returned it to the case. Then he replaced the cover and disconnected the compressor long enough to pump pressure into the camera case. "Ready to go," he announced.

"Take it easy," Scotty said. "We'd better rest a half hour or so. If we don't knock ourselves out, we can get in three more dives today."

Rick knew the wisdom of that. He adjusted the camera and took a series of "establishing" shots, to establish that the movie had been taken on a boat near an island. Then, when the time came to dive, he photographed Scotty entering the water. At his direction, Scotty got out again, while Rick got in, swam down a few feet, and took a shot of Scotty entering from that angle. Then the camera followed as Scotty flippered smoothly down into the deep water.

Rick followed, camera extended in front of him, sighting through the gun-type sights mounted on top of the case. There was a handgrip on each side, with the controls handy to his fingers. By watching the light meter he could change his exposure as the shifting light required.

He moved ahead of Scotty, panned across the wreck, then reversed the camera to photograph Scotty approaching. On a hunch, he stood well back when Scotty approached the underwater entrance and got a picture that was priceless! The grouper had returned to his home, and frightened by the light that suddenly probed his hide-out, he flashed out and caught Scotty by surprise. Scotty dropped his flashlight and back-pedaled frantically. Grinning, Rick kept his camera grinding. Scotty turned and saw that Rick was shooting, and held both hands to his face in mock dismay. Rick cut and secured the camera to an outcropping with its safety line.

Scotty picked up his light and crawled slowly into the opening. Rick waited, watching anxiously to be sure his friend's hoses and regulator cleared the entrance. Then Scotty vanished inside. In a moment he reappeared, headfirst, and beckoned.

Rick followed him in, his own flashlight extended. It was a little murky from the grouper's hurried departure, but he saw instantly that they were in what had been for those days a large cabin. This must have been the skipper's quarters. His light picked out the remains of furniture, including one ma.s.sive chair that was still in good condition.

Scotty gestured with his light and Rick saw an oaken door. He swam over to it and inspected it closely. It was still firm, still in place. Where did it lead?

There was only one way to find out. He took hold of the old-fashioned handle and pulled. The door didn't budge. Rick tried again and failed.

He swung himself around and put both feet on the wall next to the door, then applied leverage.

The handle came completely off. Rick sailed backward across the cabin and his tank rang like a bell as it struck something metallic. Scotty hurried to his side, and Rick gestured that he was all right. They turned to inspect the object against which Rick had hurtled and found that it was the still-sound strap for a beam, probably made of wrought iron.

Rick took his belt slate and wrote, "Whre wld he hide it?"

Scotty read it with his light, then shrugged. They began a methodical inspection of the cabin, surprised that it was so clear of marine life.

Rick surmised that the opening had developed only recently, perhaps from the shifting of the ship. They found a closet and a heap of what had once been clothes on its floor. Then Scotty made the big discovery of the day. He reached into a shelf s.p.a.ce above the bunk, hand exploring, and touched something hard. He drew it out. It looked like a green-covered bundle about a foot long and two inches thick. But before he had a chance to inspect it further, his air gave out and both boys hurried to the surface on their reserves.

Aboard the _Water Witch_ they shed their equipment and sat down to inspect Scotty's find. The covering proved to be layer after layer of oilcloth, wrapped around the object. The outer layers had deteriorated somewhat, but the inner ones were intact.

Scotty finished unwrapping and found a second wrapping of still-dry linen. He pulled the linen off, and both boys gasped. It was a jeweled dagger, with a good-sized ruby winking in its hilt!

"Take it out of the sheath," Rick suggested.

Scotty did so, and disclosed a blade covered with some hard brown substance. "That's not rust. Got a jackknife?"

Rick found one and handed it to him. Scotty sc.r.a.ped and was rewarded by the gleam of bright metal.

"It must have been coated with heavy grease," Rick remarked. "During the years, the grease hardened into a permanent rustproof coating. Wait until the scientists see this!"

Scotty grinned his pleasure. "This is one treasure the log didn't mention. Poor Captain Campion must have thought a lot of it to protect it so thoroughly."

"He might have been taking it to the New World as a gift for some influential friend," Rick ventured. "It looks like Spanish work."

Scotty looked at Rick speculatively. "Are you making a claim on this?"

Rick knitted his brows. What was Scotty driving at? "You found it," he said. "Technically, we're supposed to share and share alike, the four of us and Barby. But how do you split a dagger? And we wouldn't sell it, anyway. It's too nice a souvenir."

"I'll ask Tony and Zircon," Scotty said, "but if none of you have any objection, I would like to claim it, because I want to give it to Dad for a birthday present next month."

Rick punched him on the arm. "You'll get no objection from me. Or from Tony and Zircon either."

"I can buy presents for the family," Scotty said slowly. "I do, on birthdays and Christmas. But I've always wanted to give Dad something really special, something to tell him how I feel about being taken into the family."

Rick nodded. He knew how Scotty felt, and he liked him all the better for it. "Let's get ready for the next dive," he said abruptly.

They went through the necessary checks on their equipment, transferring the regulators to the third set of tanks. Rick decided to leave the camera on the boat this time. He was anxious to inspect the ship thoroughly, and photography took time.

After a half hour of rest the boys went back into the water again, carrying their wrecking bars and spear guns, flashlights on their belts.

An inch-by-inch inspection of the cabin disclosed no more treasures, but Rick found a plate, still intact. He wondered if it were the plate from which the captain had last dined before the pirate attack, and put it outside the entrance to be carried to the surface.

Once satisfied that the cabin held no secrets, the boys attacked the door. It was hard work, and they raised so much dust that their light beams were almost useless. However, they struggled on until the door finally gave, only to admit quant.i.ties of sand.

Rick guessed that the door had opened onto a deck that was now buried far under the sand. They went outside to allow the murkiness to settle in the cabin, and Rick consulted his watch. Their time was nearly up. He hooted to Scotty and they surfaced.

The first tanks they had used were ready now. They shifted the regulators and hooked up another pair to the compressor.

"I'm afraid Tony was right," Rick said. "We'll have to take the ship apart piece by piece."

Scotty examined his foot where the fin was rubbing a little. "What would be a logical hiding place? If I were the captain, I'd probably hide the statue under false flooring or something. Anyway, I'd hide it aft, in officer's country, and not near the forecastle where the crew lived."

"That's probably right. Anyway, we won't have time to do much wrecking today. What say we hunt for loose boards in the cabin?"

Scotty grinned. "The treasure fever has got our boy Rick. Have you forgotten we were going to see what those fancy frogmen were curious about?"

Rick grinned back, a little sheepishly. "You're right. I had forgotten.

Well, we can spend half the time looking for the treasure and the other half looking for the frogmen's cache."

The search for the treasure disclosed no loose boards, or anything resembling a secret hiding place. At the end of ten minutes they turned from the wreck and swam along the bottom toward the reef.

Since they had no idea what they were looking for, the search couldn't be a very carefully planned one. Rick led the way, following the reef, taking time to examine the coral formations. There were countless sea urchins, and enough small fish to feed the entire population. Bigger fish, however, were not plentiful. Once Rick saw a snook that would have been worth taking, but the fish sped off into the watery gloom. Again, Scotty called his attention to a deadly scorpion fish. This small, rather weird-looking little creature had a dangerous defense mechanism in the spines of his back. His poison bore a strong resemblance to cobra venom. The boys gave him a wide berth.

Now and then a moray glared at them with unwinking eyes from a crevice, but the boys paid no attention. The morays wouldn't attack unless disturbed, and there was no reason for disturbing them. Rick wondered if the big one they had ousted from the wreck had found a new home.

They pa.s.sed a colony of sea worms, colorful even in the green light. The worms were pretty, but their long hairs could give a painful sting.

Their time was growing short. Rick consulted his watch, then his depth gauge. They were at eighty-five feet. Because of the shallower water they would have a little more time, perhaps another five minutes before constricted breathing told them only a few minutes of air remained.

Scotty found a puffer and waved at him, but the fish paid no attention.

Scotty motioned to Rick, then reached out and scratched the creature's stomach. It began to gulp water until it resembled a balloon. They left it to return to normal in its own time. On the surface, the puffer would have gulped air in the same way. They had caught them on lines many times.

They were past the _Water Witch_ now, Rick estimated. He hooted at Scotty, then led the way up to a depth of about forty feet. There he started back along the cliff.

Suddenly he wished he had brought a game bag attached to his belt. The reef here was alive with sh.e.l.lfish. He identified cowries, whelks, and some excellent specimens of Triton's horn. They would have to come back again, to collect some to take home. The biggest problem was getting the animals out of their sh.e.l.ls, unless there were some anthills on the island. Ants would do the job neatly in a few days.