The Golden Grotto

CHAPTER XXI THE FLIGHT

PANDEMONIUM reigned aboard the yacht Aquamarine. At the given signal of a shot, members of the crew — gunmen in disguise — leaped to strategic spots, brandishing revolvers. At the same moment, the glare of a searchlight came beside the ship; and the entire length of the Aquamarine was bathed in illumination.

Shouts came from below decks. People were rushing forth to learn the meaning of the shot. The tried members of the crew — the captain at the helm — all were at the mercy of gloating mobsters who intended to shoot them down without mercy.

But they had reckoned without the surprise that was arranged for them. Rising upon the roof of the central cabin was a tall figure in black — a spectral shape that was not noticed until a loud, jeering laugh broke forth from the spot where the black-garbed phantom stood.

All eyes swung there, and in one split second, the gangster mutineers recognized the figure of the one being whom they dreaded to a man — The Shadow!

None had long to speculate on the unexpected arrival of this feared avenger. As he laughed, The Shadow raised his arms. Bursts of flame issued from powerful automatics.

Anthony Hargreaves, standing against the rail, saw the devastating effects of The Shadow’s fire. Swift, sure shots were felling snarling enemies. Revolvers blazed as the mobsters, to a man, sought to down the menace that confronted them.

The Shadow had chosen his spot well. He had watched the posting of the disguised gangsters. He had them outranged. Good shots at close quarters, these gorillas could not, with their hasty aiming, bead the wavering shape that mocked them with a sardonic laugh.

The Shadow’s shots were as perfect as though they had been aimed from the distance of a foot. The very light that had been directed to aid the gangsters was now their undoing. The sight of men falling from spots along the deck was appalling to the fiends of the underworld.

One man, leaning from a lifeboat, sought to get The Shadow. The roar of the automatic spelled the gangster’s plunge from the boat to the rail — and thence to a flat splash in the sea beneath. Another gangster, atop the roof of a side deck, tried to leap to safety. The Shadow’s bullet caught him in midair, and the thug dropped.

One gangster, seeing opportunity, clambered up to get The Shadow unaware. Turning instinctively, the black-clad battler caught the invader as he rose. A thud marked the passing of an evil gunman as the malefactor’s body tumbled to the uncovered portion of the deck.

IT was a swift fight, with The Shadow holding the odds. One man against a score, he relied upon his skill and precision against the fury of the outwitted gangsters.

Only those who sought to protect themselves had a chance to elude The Shadow’s might; but within a minute after the fight had started, The Shadow was joined by a host of allies. The captain and quick-witted members of the crew were in action.

Had these fighters used discretion, none of them would have fallen. In their excitement, however, they leaped at gangsters, and in the brawling, three or four of the crew were downed by bullets before The Shadow could aid them in their reckless behavior.

Passengers, coming from their cabins, were in the fray, and here The Shadow managed to save all. One gunman, coming momentarily in view, sought to shoot Hargreaves. The Shadow, with a timely bullet, prevented the cowardly deed against an unarmed man. Another dead gangster fell as token to The Shadow’s prowess.

As the firing began to die out, the mystery ship loomed close with its dazzling searchlight. Cries came from the hidden vessel.

Those aboard had seen The Shadow. They knew that the mutiny aboard the yacht had failed. The yacht captain ordered searchlights toward the approaching ship. The rays of the yacht’s lights were counteracted by that dazzling illumination.

It was The Shadow who turned the tables. His automatic spoke, and the answer was the crash of glass as the mystery boat’s light was shattered. With the finish of its powerful searchlight, the black ship was plainly revealed scarcely fifty feet from the Aquamarine’s side.

With smoothly purring motor, the pirate craft was swinging broadside. Its decks were awash; the cockpit, bulwarked on all sides, served as a fortress in miniature. Peering over the walls were fiendish faces, and chief among them was the countenance of Professor Kirby Sheldon.

Nearing the low deck of the yacht, the hand at the wheel of the black ship was guiding it so that the attackers could pass the Aquamarine close enough to grapple and come aboard.

This was a give-away of the plan that had been foiled by The Shadow. With the yacht in confusion due to the mutiny, the invaders from the ship had been coming up to add the finishing touches to the capture of the Aquamarine.

Even now, with the rebuff that his underlings had taken, Professor Sheldon was determined to succeed. As his wave-plowing craft came within fifteen feet of scraping the side of the Aquamarine, the fiend gave a sharp command. His gloating cry came as a note of terror to those aboard the yacht.

UNWITTINGLY, the captain and his victorious crew had played into the hands of the supervillain. The passengers, too, had made the same error.

With the mobsters down, and triumph virtually assured through The Shadow’s great work, nearly all the able-bodied men aboard the Aquamarine had crowded to the rail on the port side of the yacht.

With revolvers in readiness, they were prepared to resist the boarding the moment that their enemies rose above the bulwark surrounding the cockpit of the black ship. The Shadow, standing above, was holding two empty automatics. He had carried three braces tonight; these were his fifth and sixth pistols.

His ammunition exhausted, The Shadow had left the rest of the fray to the crew of the Aquamarine; now, the folly of the men on the yacht seemed destined to be their undoing. Lined along the rail, grimly determined to resist the attackers, they were open targets to the deadly weapon which Professor Sheldon maneuvered into action.

Over the bulwark of the black ship came the muzzle of a machine gun! Elevated above the protecting parapet, jutting straight toward the yacht, this instrument of death was handled by a man who lay below in safety!

Consternation reigned as the crew and passengers of the Aquamarine saw that terrible device turning coldly in their direction.

The black ship was exactly beside the yacht — within a few seconds a raking hail of metal was due to sweep down all who offered resistance!

Scattered revolver shots burst vainly from spots along the rail of the yacht. They did no damage — the bulwark of the pirate craft prevented that. Professor Sheldon and his handful of hardened men had ducked under cover. The machine gunner held a periscopic sight for his sure-fire weapon.

Others on the Aquamarine flung themselves flat upon the deck. A few more made mad dives for companionways. All was futile. They were trapped. They lacked time to elude that grim instrument of death. Professor Sheldon’s vile scheme was on the brink of success.

But while dozens aboard the yacht lost their nerve completely, one man acted in daring fashion. The Shadow, with incredible swiftness, launched a strange and unexpected attack.

Flinging his automatics aside, the black-cloaked phantom leaped forward. Like a mammoth creature of darkness, he sprang from the top of the central cabin to the deck below. Still using the force of his spring, he bounded to the rail and launched his weird form in a long, sweeping plunge over the side of the yacht!

Feet-foremost, The Shadow’s body struck the water within two feet of the black ship. The well-directed leap brought him beside the bulwarked cockpit. Those long, upstretched arms momentarily blocked the line of fire from the machine gun; then, The Shadow’s powerful hands clutched the deadly weapon itself!

Just as the hidden man behind the parapet was about to loose his fire, The Shadow’s body, rising from the water, dropped again. The strong arms, wrapped about the barrel of the machine gun, wrested the projecting instrument from its moorings. Over the side came Professor Sheldon’s weapon of death.

A cry of new hope rose from the deck of the yacht as The Shadow, dragging the machine gun with him, sank beneath the surface of the glassy sea!

Inspired by the example of The Shadow, the crew of the yacht acted swiftly. Armed men clambered to the rail, ready to hurl themselves upon the deck of the pirate craft, under protection of their companions who remained behind.

But in the moment of hesitation, the foiled men in the black ship had realized their predicament. In a twinkling, the water churned, and the lowlying vessel cut away from the yacht, plowing through the sea with a swift start that carried it beyond harm’s way.

Revolver shots came futilely from the rear bulwark; they were answered with scattered firing from the crew of the Aquamarine. Heading away, the black ship was buried in the night, beyond the range of the yacht’s searchlights!

IT was then that the captain of the Aquamarine shouted forth new orders. Rescue the man who had gone over the side! Bring back the grim fighter who had saved the yacht!

Where was he — this being whose deadly aim had felled the mutineers — this strange dynamo of action who had leaped forth to capture the machine gun from the pirate ship?

Nothing showed upon the surface of the water, where the yacht’s searchlights played in concentrated rays. The Shadow was gone — when last seen, he had been swallowed by the smooth sea. The search was in vain.

As long, questing minutes passed, those aboard the Aquamarine were forced to accept one unhappy conclusion. They believed that their rescuer was dead; that in his madcap effort, he had sunk with the heavy machine gun to the depths of the sea. With cloak tangled in the metal mechanism, The Shadow had left their sight, and certainly would not appear again.

As the Aquamarine steamed slowly onward, those aboard were sobered by the unfortunate outcome which had meant the loss of the unknown fighter who had turned sure defeat into complete victory.