“They have the bends!” Arv Hanson cried in alarm. “Signal the Sky Queen to drop a sling!”
The boys’ masks were ripped off. Within moments, Bud had been tightly secured to the sling, which was reeled back up into the plane. Tom followed in a few minutes. Doc Simpson took charge of the patients immediately. After a quick examination, he had the boys placed in a small INVISIBLE SUB 33
decompression chamber in the Sky Queen’s sick bay.
“How are they?” Hank asked anxiously as he peered through the window of the chamber. The medic had given Bud a sedative and he was already fast asleep. Tom remained awake.
“Aside from the pain, not in too bad shape,” Doc Simpson replied.
It turned out that Tom’s case was not so serious, but Bud had to stay in bed.
With Tom, it was only a matter of decompression and he soon was up and about.
Chow, in a chef’s cap, with an apron around his paunchy stomach, had come stomping in hastily from the galley. “Pore lil ole boys,” he fussed. “Brand my snorkel, I never should’ve let you young’uns go pokin’ around down below there without me around to keep an eye on things!”
Tom slapped the loyal old Texan on the back. “If you want a dive, come along.”
“You’re goin’ back down?” Chow asked.
“In the seacopter,” Tom replied. “To find out, if possible, who fired that projectile at us.”
“Then count me in!” Chow declared, stripping off his apron. “I just hope I get my hands on them sneakin’ polecats!”
Slim Davis would pilot the Sky Queen back to Shopton at once, because of Bud. Tom and Chow, meanwhile, would join Hank and his crew aboard the Sea Hound.