Down in the South Pacific Ocean, a submarine is racing madly for the United States.
Just four hours ago, the Gregory Party escaped from the island of Euclidia in a stolen Euclidean submarine.
Joan Gregory, 15-year-old girl who has spent nearly all her life on the strange artificial island, is operating the submarine,
while Jerry Hall, Mrs. Gregory, and Captain Bradford watch with interest and ply Joan with questions.
The speedy undersea craft is making over 40 knots and is eight fathoms below the surface of the water.
Are you sure we've come that far, Joan?
It is obvious that my instruments could not be wrong.
We have progressed slightly more than 160 miles during the last four hours.
Think of that, Pat. Four hours, 160 miles, and under eight fathoms of water.
I am thinking of it, Tex, but there's so much to think of that I'm not able to grasp at all.
Golly, I'm not doing any better, Mrs. Gregory, but it's mighty swell to know we've left that crazy island behind us,
and that nothing can stop us now.
Oh, I hope that's true.
Well, of course it is, Patricia. You've been worried so long and seen your plans so badly treated,
that you're afraid to believe in good luck when it does come along.
Indications point toward a fair possibility of achievement of our goal.
We have many miles to traverse, however, and Euclidia is not to be forgotten.
Well, I'm going to forget it just as soon as I can.
Joan, you're not sure that we're safely away from that island, are you?
No one who appreciates the ability of G-47 is ever sure of anything in which he might take an interest.
Yes, and he might take plenty of interest in our escape.
I'll say well.
It will avail us nothing to anticipate trouble. We must now eat something.
Huh? Eat?
By Jove, Joan, we forgot to provision the boat.
We had no time, even if we had remembered it.
The submarine is fully provisioned.
Oh, with what?
Food.
You sure keep it hid.
Yes, I can't see any space in here large enough to contain any amount of food.
And we've a long way to go to California.
The Euclideans are as exacting regarding food as they are in their provision for sufficient fuel.
We are amply provisioned for a cruise of this length and more.
Well, come on, break out the grub.
What?
Jerry means let's eat.
It would seem indicated as the passage of time since our last meal is slightly more than the customary period allowed to elapse.
Maybe that's how you find out when it's time to eat, but I know when I'm hungry.
Yes, and I'm a little inclined to figure the way Jerry does.
My stomach is better than the clock.
The thought of food had not occurred to you until I noted the fact that it was time to eat.
Oh, that's what you think.
I was plenty hungry long ago, but I didn't see any sense in asking for something we didn't have.
That was my feeling, Jerry.
I had thought of food some time ago, but I knew it wouldn't do any good to suggest it, as we'd only feel worse about not having any.
It is amazing to learn how foolish people can be in your world.
Foolish because we get hungry?
Certainly not.
Foolish because you refuse to accept the perfection of Euclidean preparations.
It would be a serious offense if a Euclidean were to start on a trip without all necessary equipment and provisions.
Oh, that's okay too, but we stole this boat, and you don't always find a boat ready to steal all full of food.
Well, supposing we'd met that Joan showed us up and asked for some of the food, huh?
Yes, I can marvel at having the food just as comfortably while I'm eating it.
Very well. Jerry.
Aye, skipper.
I am not a skipper, Jerry.
Okay, okay. What do you want?
Will you open the metal slide in the steel section near your left arm?
Oh, this little thing here?
Yes, that is it.
Sure.
You will observe a number of quartz vials, each labeled and numbered.
Yeah, there's a lot of little bottles here. They're all marked D1 and Z4 and all such things.
We will not require more than the one you have in your hand. That is marked Z4, is it not?
Yeah, but what's in it?
Our noonday meal.
Huh?
Joan dear, are you looking at what Jerry has in his hand?
I glanced at it. The label will be correct.
But we're looking for something to eat.
That vial contains sufficient for our needs at this time.
Now look, Joan, this bottle isn't any bigger than your thumb.
How can we eat out of that?
If you will remove the cap, please.
Okay, off comes the cap.
Now, Mother, if you and the captain will extend your hands,
Jerry will drop one of the tablets in each hand.
Why, yes, but for good heavens, that little capsule isn't much larger than the end of a lead pencil.
You will find it sufficient for a satisfying meal.
A meal? This little pill is a meal?
You are very skeptical, Captain Bradford, but let me advise you to eat the pellet at once.
Much of the food value will be lost in the air if you continue to hold it in the palm of your hand.
Oh golly whiskers, do you chew this up or just swallow it?
If you wish to savour the exquisite taste, it is permissible to masticate and slowly swallow the food content.
Slowly swallow? How can you swallow a thing like that slowly?
Jerry, taste your tablet. It is delicious. And give Joan hers.
Oh sure, sorry Joan. Here's your porterhouse steak.
George, Pat, you're right. That tastes mighty good.
Seems to taste like a good healthy mouthful too.
Well, if it's all right with you two, I guess I can take a chance on it too.
But I can't see.
Oh golly whiskers, now I've done it.
I swallow my dinner without even getting a chance to taste it.
You will receive the food value as quickly as if you had tasted it.
Many of the Euclideans prefer to swallow the pellets quickly, saving considerable time.
Yeah, I guess it's too long for lunch if you take time to chew up a pill.
What a bunch of people, old G-47 and his playmates are.
Well, I must admit that is one of the most satisfying meals I've ever eaten.
Oh, I feel so comfortably drowsy, just as if I'd eaten a little too much.
It is not too much. Those tablets are scientifically correct in their food content.
Well, I feel all right. No, maybe that was all the lunch I ought to have.
But it's a funny way to get it.
I'll tell you a funny one to that. I'll bet no one else has noticed it.
What's that, Tex?
I'm not thirsty. None of you have asked for a drink of water.
Why, you're right. It's been hours since we had any water and I never felt the need of it.
The need for water is partly provided for in the tablets.
But in such concentrated form, it is impossible to secrete sufficient normal moisture to serve for a longer time.
I had given it no thought and have no water prepared, but in a few moments you will be supplied.
Prepare? Water? How?
Now, Joan, don't tell me you've got some concentrated water in a fountain pen.
Naturally not. You should know, Captain Bradford,
that when water is condensed sufficiently to compress it for such use as this,
it is no longer water.
Even the Euclideans have failed to compress water appreciably
and then return it to its natural state.
Well, it's almost a relief to hear that you admit that those scientists have been
failing at something. Their continued perfection with everything they attempt is bewildering and terrifying.
Where do you turn on the hydrant?
Turn on the hydrant?
Sure, open the faucet, start the pump, make the fountain bubble.
Or when do we get a drink?
If you will allow me a few seconds to refuel, I will show you.
All right ahead, Joan.
And all this is real, a submarine that takes but a few seconds to refuel?
Well, maybe we can do something about that. Seems like a waste of time to me.
You think I do it too slowly?
Don't let Jerry kid you, Joan. Go to it.
And if you don't mind, I'd like to watch you closely.
Have you explained the refueling process as you go along.
It's always happened too fast for me.
It is very difficult to demonstrate for that reason.
However, there is enough fuel in the first chamber to allow me a few seconds for explanation
in advance of the actual operation.
May we all watch, dear?
Certainly, Mother. Although there is little to see.
As you will note, that heavy cylinder of transparent steel
contains several hundred small cubes of a grayish mineral substance.
That substance is a highly condensed, compressed and dehydrated gas.
When the gas cubes are mixed with ordinary salt water,
spontaneous combustion expands the hole at a terrific rate
and this force is allowed to escape through two jets in the stern.
So far so good.
But how do you get those cubes of dry gas down into that lower combustion chamber?
Watch closely now.
I move this lever, so...
And that action closes a valve in the upper end of the chamber.
Now I move this lever and release one of the cubes,
allowing it to drop through the valve and then quickly close the valve,
restricting the chemical action to the lower chamber.
Follow this closely now.
I hope you saw what you were looking for, Tex.
It was much too rapid for me.
Me too.
It's remarkable, Jerry.
We'll certainly have wonderful stories to tell when we get back home.
Yes, unless we can prove them. Nobody's going to believe us.
Well, we'll have a submarine to show them
and when we get some help and some of your formers
to use in capturing the Magic Island, we can prove the whole thing then.
You are very optimistic, Jerry,
but that portion of our adventures is far from realization.
Oh, Joan, dear, we'll get out of this all right. I feel it.
Sure we will. Old G-47 can't touch us now.
Yeah, stop worrying about those Euclideans, Joan,
and go on with our education.
Now where is this drink of water coming from?
I am indeed sorry that the water was forgotten.
We will now extract enough for our immediate uses.
Extract it? Extract water?
Precisely.
Okay, precisely.
Tell us how you get water out of a steel submarine.
I get water out of the ocean.
The ocean?
You would find it simple to extract the salt from sea water
and render it satisfactory for human consumption
if you were in your laboratory, would you not?
Of course, with proper apparatus.
Retorts, stills, burners, and bell jars, but I'm lost here.
Lost? But we are on our course.
Oh, Dexman, you left him hopelessly behind in your discussion, Joan, dear.
Why don't you go ahead and show us, Joan,
like you did about the compressed gas tablets for fuel?
I think that is best.
We can always get a good general impression by watching you at work.
In securing palatable water, we make use of the same principle
you employ in your laboratory, that of distillation.
However...
What is it, Joan?
Sounds like a carrier wave coming out of a radio.
Turn it in quick, Joan. It might be Johnson trying to reach it.
Not on that wavelength.
There is no transmitter in your world with the frequency of that calibration.
It surely sounds like a radio.
Yes, now bet it is.
You are indeed hearing the tuning signal of a transmission apparatus,
but your friend Johnson will never be heard there.
Well, what is it?
The location beam from Euclidia.
The magic island?
Well, then locate it.
Steady, Pat. Now what is it exactly, Joan?
That constant signal will be received by every Euclidean receiving set
all over the world.
Every spy Euclidia has is getting it.
And all will know that something is missing from Euclidia.
Then I suppose the search is on right now.
You may be sure that the ocean and air are alive
with Euclidean pursuit units at this moment, Captain.
Oh, gee.
Let's tune in on the island station and see what old G-47
is broadcasting about.
No.
Our only hope of escaping location is to refuse to open our receiver
to voice transmission.
That would break the beam, and the instruments on Euclidia
would register it at once, giving them our exact distance from the island.
You mean we can't even receive a message without being located?
Exactly.
But what if Johnson or some other rescue agency attempts
to communicate with us?
We will not receive their messages.
Our only hope now is to remain lost in the depths of the sea,
lost to Euclidia and lost to the world.