Primal Spillane Page 16

  Below, the men waited in breathless anxiety for the rending crash of depth bombs. They had no way of knowing whether or not the plane had seen them, and the suspense was nerve-racking. Above, two sleek bombs left the underside of the plane. Into the water with hardly a ripple, they sank many feet, then burst in a blast of flame.

  For a moment the lights in the sub quivered, but remained on.

  “Deeper!” Von Helsner shouted, “Dive to the bottom!”

  Another crash shook the sub. This time the lights went out. Immediately the auxiliary lamps came on. Men were quiet, waiting for the first sign of water seeping in through the shaken seams of the steel plates.

  The sub hit bottom. It bounced once, then settled along the sandy floor. The motors cut off. Long minutes passed before a word was spoken.

  The commander smiled. “The fools have lost us. Now let us proceed. It is time to open the sealed orders, from the high command.”

  He produced an oilcloth packet and removed the contents. Carefully reading every line, he rang for “stations.” Men hopped to their posts.

  “This,” he said, “is our greatest mission of the war. We go North to Greenland to intercept American troopships. Ah! I take much pleasure in this job!”

  At once, the motors throbbed, and the sub got under way. Alternately running on the surface and under the waves, she made good time.

  Noon of the third day, a tramp steamer hove into view. It was a sloppy looking ship, not capable of carrying any heavy guns. “Hardly worth a torpedo! … Stand by to open fire with the deck guns!”

  Quickly, men jumped to their posts. The breech of the gun opened, a shell went in. and the gun fired! Direct hit, the first shot! The sailors threw their caps in the air with joy. Another shell fired, then another. A gun from the ship answered, but fell far short of the mark. One final shot blasted toward the tramp. It hit the superstructure and blew it clear of the ship!

  Slowly, like a dying whale, the steamer turned over. Men scrambled over the hull like ants. Then it went down, stern first. The sub made no attempt to rescue anyone, but deliberately avoided the frantic shouts of those that had cleared the sinking ship, and again headed Northward. These hardened veterans of undersea warfare cared little for human lives … as long as they weren’t their own!

  IT WAS early morning of the sixth day that Von Helsner sighted another tramp, as shoddy as the other one they had sent down. Its paint was old and peeling, while the cabins seemed to be greatly in need of repair.

  Helsner eyed it for a moment, then spoke to his junior officer. “It is another one of those Yankee ships. Riding high, too. She must have emptied her cargo. Well, she’ll never ship another one!”

  Again the command was given to the gunners, and while the rest of the crew stood about on the deck to watch the slaughter, the gun was loaded. But the sub had been seen. The ship began to weave back and forth.

  “Fools,” Helsner muttered. “They think that we’ll waste a torpedo on their smelly old tub. Fire away!”

  A shell sped from the muzzle, and splashed in front of the tramp steamer. Almost at once, lifeboats went over the side, and men jumped from the deck into them.

  Helsner laughed. “Yellow dogs, look at them run! When we get done with the ship we will sink them, too!”

  The sub moved in closer to the target. This time the gunner found his mark. A shot mashed high into the prow of the ship. In another moment the tramp was peppered with holes; the railings and superstructure were a maze of twisted metal.

  The sailors looked at the tub quizzically. By now she should be sunk. Then Helsner laughed. “She must be carrying a load of cork. That’s why she rides so high and refuses to sink! Close in on her. This time we will end it!”

  Gradually the submarine pulled into point blank range. To starboard, the men who had left the doomed vessel pulled with all their might on the oars of the lifeboat. Von Helsner let them go. It would be only a matter of minutes to round them up … then the fun of shooting them down! When the sub was a scant five hundred yards off, the gunners took careful aim at the water line, then fired!

  A hole was ripped into the rusted side just above the water line. Then it happened. There was a flash of activity on the deck of the apparently deserted steamer! A machine gun suddenly sang a song of death as it raked the deck of the sub. Sailors not within the protection of the gun or the conning tower crumpled to the deck, dead.

  VON HELSNER was taken aback. He leaped behind the forward gun just in time to escape a withering hail of bullets.

  “Kill them, you dogs! Kill them!” he shouted.

  The men rammed home a shell. But before they could fire, a strange thing happened on board the tramp. Part of the crumpled cabin began to slide back. A peculiar whine broke through the air and a 6”/53-caliber gun came up on an elevator shaft from the very bowels of the ship!

  It was a huge thing, gleaming dully in the light of the morning. Immediately the muzzle blossomed into a mushroom of yellow flame. The range was point-blank, still, but the tables were turned. The men on the sub gasped at the sight. Then the shot from the steamer smashed through the conning tower. To submerge again was hopeless — they had to fight back now.

  The slamming of the two guns split the day wide open. A shot from the steamer threw the sub broadside. A perfect target! But in this new position they could bring their stern gun into action. Von Helsner wasted no time. Quickly the men dashed to the other cannon. It spit fire at the ship, trying desperately to knock the other gun from the deck. Shrapnel whizzed through the air, while men dropped to the deck of both the sub and the steamer.

  YET THEY kept up the steady fire! The sub was a mess. Gaping holes ran across the deck and water washed into them. Then the big rifle on the tramp steamer spat. Once again a shell hit the sub directly at the water line and ripped into its backbone. A tearing shudder went through the entire length of the dark hull, and it split in half! Men screamed as the boat went down beneath them. Those that weren’t wounded enough to die quietly, shouted their lungs out as they were caught in the swirling vortex of the whirlpool. All of them went under. They died as they had sent others to their deaths, and would have sent the survivors of the tramp had the end been the other way around.

  On the steamer, five men leaned on the hot gun. A doctor was rapidly administering to the wounded, and the rest gazed out to where the sub had been. Behind them, wildly cheering boatloads of men pulled toward their ship.

  Dan Cassidy grinned at the other gunner. “Well, that’s that! Helsner and his boys got quite a reputation in these parts, but it won’t make any difference where he’s going! Golly. It sure was smart of the Brass Hats to pull the First World War stunt of outfitting “Q” ships! I bet those babies got the surprise of their lives when Betsy here poked her snout over the gun’ale and gave them a little back talk!”

  ***

  Phony Fish

  FRANKIE FITCHSNIGGLE smeared some more elbow grease on the broom he was pushing around and raised a cloud of dirt that made the dust bowl look like the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.

  “Phooey on this job!” he snarled to the stuffed denizens of the deep tacked on the walls. “Here I am sweeping out a fish museum like a house maid when I should be making my fortune. Phooey!”

  “I’ll phooey you if you don’t get this joint … I mean place cleaned up in ten minutes!” a voice bellowed behind him. “And throw that dirt outside instead of shoving it under the statues like you did the last time.”

  “Why, Mr. Itchyback, what you say!” Frankie Fitchsniggle giggled. “As the proprietor of this fish graveyard you should know better.”

  Hiram (Igotta) Itchyback, the sole owner of the Deep Sea Museum, wrinkled his snoot and grew a deep purple.

  “Listen, you grapehead … in half an hour the Rod and Reel Club will be here to see how we are displaying their trophies … so get busy!”

  “Oh … that bunch of ocean cowboys! They’re alla time bringing in them oversize gold fish to make me some mo
re work. Besides, I don’t like them. There’s something fishy about them, and I don’t mean the smell. The Rod and Reel Club … huh! I can see the rod part. Last time one of those pickle-pusses was here he dropped a cannon out from under his arm that should’ve had wheels on it!”

  Itchyback gritted his store teeth. “Shuddup! You think too much. Get that dirt outa here and brush off them fish or I’ll can you like a salmon!”

  He stalked out of the fish room huffing like a frog and muttering things about what he would do to his janitor if he ever got him in a dark alley. Frankie blew a “rassberry” after him and picked up the broom.

  Every time the whacks from the nitwit outfit blew into town they made a beeline for the museum with a fish under each arm … and plastered them on the wall. To Fitchsniggle, fish … as he put it … “was made to be et, not stuck on a wall to collect flies.” … but try to tell that to those monkeys. Besides, a couple of the jerks that wasted their time feeding bugs to barracuda on the end of a hunk of string didn’t look any more like anglers than Sambo, who was head man on the garbage wagon in this district.

  FINALLY, Frankie Fitchsniggle got all the wall-eyed corpses cleaned up and their scales polished and he changed into the bell-boy suit marked GUIDE. Fine thing. In the morning he was a broom pusher and in the afternoon led a pack of swivel necks round the museum who gaped with open mouths at the octopuses and assorted ocean animals on the walls.

  Came one o’clock and the Rod and Reel Club stormed up the steps of the fishes’ happy hunting grounds. Two fat wobbling members staggered under a smelly creature that would have made good eating for two dozen people. Behind them, clutching a green goblin that would have scared the pants off an elephant if it wasn’t mounted on a board, was Mike Magoniggle … that heavy-bearded citizen same as which dropped the gat in front of Frankie last year. The guide took one look at the scale covered group storming the place and shivered.

  Of course Itchyback was all smiles. He pumped everybody’s hand so much you would think he was a politician trying to be reelected for dogcatcher.

  “Ah!” he beamed. “It is good to see your smiling faces again. And you have brought more trophies to glorify these noble walls. Fine … fine! They will all get a place of honor, and your names will be inscribed on the roll of fame. In years to come you will be immortal!”

  “Huh!” Frankie thought. “In years to come they would be dead. S’too bad they couldn’t be mounted like fish and draped over a window. At least they wouldn’t smell so bad, anyway! … or would they?”

  “Mr. Magoniggle … what have you got this time?” Hiram (Igotta) Itchyback yelled. “It is elegant… whatever it is!”

  MAGONIGGLE handed him the goblin on the board. “Dis is a babbilick. At least dat’s what a guy tole me. It’sa cross between a Cabberdoo and a Strachwop.”

  “Wonderful! Simply wonderful! A Babbilick is something we haven’t got. How long did I take for you to get him? Did he put up a big fight? What did you use for ‘bait?’”

  “Naw,” said the tough guy, “I didn’t use nutting. I found him on the beach.”

  That stopped Itchyback, but he passed it over lightly and ushered the pack in. The way they went around “Ohhing” and “Ahhing” at the oversize killies on the wall made Frankie turn green. Now along about this time Fitchsniggle spotted Mike and a chum batting their gums in a corner. He ambled over that way but they saw him coming and canned the chatter.

  Mike nudged his chum and they moved back to the crowd, but as he passed a display of fish-hooks, a wriggly little contraption snagged a paper out of his pocket as neatly as can be. Out of curiosity, Frankie picked it up and took a gander at it when he got behind the statue of Neptune. His eyes almost fell out on his cheeks. Some society of dimwits was offering a prize of ten thousand dollars for the most unusual-looking fish caught this year … and if anything was unusual-looking it was the monstrosity that Mike brought in!

  It had a body like a fish all right, only the tail blossomed out like the end of an octopus while the front part had a rake-like affair of crab claws. To top it off … the whole thing was the craziest color of green that could be found anywhere! Immediately Frankie Fitchsniggle began to get ideas. The tough citizen was the type of mug that might try to pull a fast one. All that talk about a Babbilick …

  ITCHYBACK had the group in a corner. He was working up to a surprise of a sort with a long talk about unusual fish. Then he sprung it. Ten grand to the guy with the most unusual fish … the contest to be held the next day in this very museum! Everybody whooped with joy. There was no doubt but that one of their club members would cash in … especially Mike Magoniggle. Frankie tried to look surprised … but he didn’t do such a good job of it. The smile was sour, but that look in his eyes when the ten G’s was mentioned sure put a suspicious light on the whole affair.

  At last the boss got done with his talk and told the bunch that they would all dine with him that night. So saying, he turned to Frankie and gave him orders to stay on watch all night, for with a prize catch like the Babbilick … anything was liable to happen. Frankie snorted … but what could he do? The gang marched out patting Mike on the back and licking their lips with the thought of “their pal” collecting all that dough.

  FITCHSNIGGLE locked the door after them and climbed out of the monkey suit. What a life! He walked around looking at the newest additions to the fish fraternity, and when he stood in front of Babbilick he shuddered. What a thing that was! He sauntered out to the kitchen and opened up his lunch. Snookey the mouse … his only friend in this house of nightmares … was waiting for him. He tossed him a hunk of ham sandwich and settled down to the rest himself.

  Afterwhile Snooky finished the ham, took a look at his friend who was starting to doze off, then sniffing a most delightful odor coming from the open door of the trophy room, gave a whistle to his rodent companions and a whole stream of them tip-toed into the place. The little furry animals went from fish to fish … their whiskers twitching … and when they got in front of the Babbilick they licked their chops and bounded up to the board …

  Frankie awoke when the morning light hit him in the face. He took a look at the clock. Wow! Ten o’clock. In a half hour the gang would be back along with the judges and the spectators who would stand around while the winner was picked. That was a laugh. Who but Mike Magoniggle stood a chance? Him and that sea goblin! He ran to the front doors and threw them open … just in time, for coming up the steps was the whole pack of whacks. Fish … fish … fish! Oh, how he would like to get revenge on them for confusing his life!

  REVENGE … That was it! He, Frankie Fitchsniggle, would eat one! While the people came in he ran out the back door to the local fish market. Boy, would it be fun to tear into one. He would have his revenge on the whole species! Joe Mangano stood in front of the stand dangling his wares before the street crowds when he got there. “Joe, gimmee a fish … any kinda fish. I wanna rip him apart!”

  “Sure, Frankie, take your pick.” Frankie shoved his hand into a mess of unassorted things, got covered with slime and scales and put his choice in a bag without looking at it. He flicked Joe a quarter and ran back to the place … and it was in an uproar. Loud noises came from inside. He could hear Mike roar, and Itchyback pleading. Curious as to what happened, Frankie went in the front way.

  ONE LOOK was all he needed. The judges stood by the remains of the Babbilick. Mike was as green as his goblin … Itchyback was bright red. The fish hung in tatters, and anyone could see that it was made up of a lot of different fishes. That disrespectful citizen, Mike Magoniggle, had pulled a fast one.

  The judge shouted, “This fish is a phoney!”

  Then Frankie came in. Mike saw him first and let out a yell. In a second Frankie was fighting for his life.

  During the scramble Frankie’s fish fell out of the bag. One look at it and the judges pounced on the body and caressed it like a pet poodle.

  “Yippee!” one yelled. “A KRASTAFLAZ! The only one in this country!�
�� He held the gooey thing up so that all could see.

  Mike got off Frankie’s chest and let him up. The judge came over and pumped Frankie’s hand. “My boy, you win the ten thousand dollars! This is the most unusual fish that ever was!”

  Then Mike cut in. “What didja do to my Babbilick!” he roared.

  Frankie squirmed. “Snookey musta et ’im!”

  Mike passed out.

  The cash passed hands while pictures were taken of the ugly thing Frankie had picked out of Joe’s box. Fitchsniggle thought he was going whacky too. When the gang finally left, Itchyback came over to him with one eyebrow up in the air. “Mr. Fitchsniggle! Where did you get that fish?”

  Frankie looked at him.

  “Where do you think? At the fish store, of course!”

  Then Itchyback passed out.

  ***

  Goon With the Wind

  “PHOOEY ON YOU!” said Joe Gooey. “I am a reporter. I positively will not write weather reports any more. As a city editor, Mr. Foof, I think you smell bad.” The C. E. almost swallowed his store teeth on that. He lifted his eyebrows with one hand and pointed at the lame brain at the typewriter with the other.

  “Gooey, you’ll do as I say or your waffle brains will be leaking outa your ears. Ever since you put an ‘S’ before Governor Kunk’s name you have been more trouble around here than a bee in my nose. Now you write down if it’s gonna rain or not.”

  “How do I know whether it’s gonna rain or snow, apple head?”

  “Stick yer dome outa the window and find out!” So saying, Foof went out.

  Gooey sat looking out the window, muttering to himself. Three weeks he had been writing “warm and cloudy,” “cloudy and warm” until he’d give his right arm for a hurricane, just to write something different. Way up in the blue, a wormy-looking cloud was skooting around trying to be funny.