Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 007 - The Lost Oasis

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THE LOST OASIS
A Doc Savage Adventure, by Kenneth Robeson
This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? Chapter I. A MILLION-DOLLAR MYSTERY
? Chapter 2. THE FLUTTERING DEATH
? Chapter 3. THE HORROR TRAIL
? Chapter 4. TWINS OF EVIL
? Chapter 5. TROUBLE BUSTER, INC.
? Chapter 6. GRIM QUEST
? Chapter 7. PHANTOM PURSUIT
? Chapter 8. NIGHT SNARE
? Chapter 9. AIR MONSTER
? Chapter 10. PERIL'S STOWAWAYS
? Chapter 11. FIGHT IN THE SKY
? Chapter 12. THE LOST 0ASIS
? Chapter 13. SLAVES OF TERROR
? Chapter 14. SIEGE
? Chapter 15. THE LIVING SHIELD
? Chapter 16. SLAVERY
? Chapter 17. THE BREAK
? Chapter 18. SUICIDE
Chapter I. A MILLION-DOLLAR MYSTERY
THE NEW York water front was in the grip of excitement. Expectant, curious crowds milled in the
district, and more were arriving.
Nearly every pier end - these offered the best views of the harbor - held a cluster of staring individuals.
There was much talk, and the watchers bought numerous newspapers.
Perfect strangers argued over the headlines as though they had been lifelong acquaintances. These
discussions always ended with both participants fixing intent stares upon the bay surface.
The absence of a moon made the early evening darkness rather murky. Many spectators secured
binoculars and telescopes from hawkers who offered these articles for rent. Newsboys were yelling
themselves hoarse. Peanuts, pretzels, hot dogs, and soft drinks were selling fast. But even the peddlers
frequently took off long enough to scamper out on the piers and gaze at the bay.
Taxi after taxi crowded down to the water front, horns blaring, and unloaded passengers. Often as not,
the drivers deserted their machines and hurried out on the wharves to watch.
Many of the taxi riders were newspaper reporters and cameramen, the latter burdened with equipment
for taking flashlight pictures.
In the general hubbub, it was doubtful if any one noticed one cab which behaved differently than the
others. For one thing, this machine did not head for the center of excitement, but made for a spot where
warehouses cast deep shadows.
Once, in signaling a turn, the driver held out his hand. The hand was enormous. Indeed, it was such a
huge hand that a motorist, an observant fellow, who chanced to be driving behind, blinked in
amazement.
The cab pulled to a quiet, furtive stop in the gloom
A traffic cop hurried up, calling: "Hey, fella, who d'you think you are? This is a no parking zone along
here!"
The amazingly big hand of the driver swung out of the window, the massive thumb jerked expressively at
the rear of the cab, which was in darkness.
The cop was puzzled, but he obeyed the invitation to inspect the taxi passenger. He tugged the door
open, and used his flashlight When he saw who occupied the cushions, his eyes flew wide. He stepped
back and executed a smart salute.
"Begging your pardon, sir!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know who it was! You can park anywhere, of
course!"
THE MYSTERIOUS personage in the rear of the cab did not speak.
Shifting his flashlight from one hand to the other, the officer seemed to be striving to swallow an
overpowering curiosity. But it got the best of him.
"I thought - that is, the newspapers have been saying you were out of town," he stated uncertainly. "No
one has been able to find you!"
"I returned to the city less than an hour ago." The mysterious man in the cab had a remarkable voice. It
was pleasant, yet it possessed a quality of vibrant power which was instantly impressive.
The cop saluted again. "If I can tell you anything about this strange business, I'll be glad to do it!"
"Do you possess any information the newspapers have not published?"
"No, sir. The darn newspaper reporters know as much as we do, and they've smeared it all on the front
page. That's why there's such a crowd down here."
"I have read the papers," said the personage in the taxi. The officer shifted uneasily, then finally mastered
the determination to suggest, "The police are naturally curious about this affair, so we'd be mighty glad to
know anything you can tell us."
A pleasant laugh came from the man in the cab. "This is as much a mystery to me as to anybody,
officer."
The cop offered: "I thought perhaps your five associates - "
The driver - he of the enormous hand - interrupted in a voice so deep it almost sounded as if a lion had
started roaring.
"We don't know anything more than the newspapers!" he declared. "A radio message came from the
steamer Yankee Beauty, in mid-ocean, seeking to get in touch with Doc Savage. It was signed simply,
'Imperiled!' We radioed back that Doc was out of town, and that nobody could locate him. The next
thing we knew, this 'Imperiled' person had gotten in touch with the newspapers and offered the reward."
The officer peered at the big-fisted driver. "You are Renny, Colonel John Renwick, the engineer, aren't
you? I should have recognized those fists."
"That's right," said Renny.
Once more the policeman addressed a salute to the personage in the rear of the cab. "Anything you wish
me to do, Mr. Savage?"
"Just don't advertise the fact that I'm around here!"
"Very well, Mr. Savage!"
The cop drifted away.
THERE WAS some movement in the taxi. Then the remarkable passenger got out. From time to time,
the headlights of distant cars splashed faint luminance over the vicinity. These sporadic glows disclosed
the figure of Doc Savage.
A great man of bronze! His appearance was the more striking because, having shucked off a robe, he
stood clad only in a bathing suit!
The muscular development of the bronze man was such as to command attention anywhere. Sinews
wrapped his form like great cables. Their size, the way they seemed to flow like liquid bronze, denoted a
strength little short of superhuman. Yet, because all the muscles in his giant figure were developed to an
equal degree, Doc's form possessed an unusual symmetry. There was none of the knotty, bull-necked
look of the professional strong man about him.
Perhaps the most impressive thing about him were his eyes. They resembled pools of fine flake gold. And
there was in them a quality of power and determination. They seemed to radiate limitless energy.
Doc took from the cab a bag which was fitted with a waterproof fastener.
Renny, still seated in the cab and with both big hands resting on the wheel, asked "Want me to wait
here?"
"That's right," Doc told him.
It was only a few seconds later that Renny glanced around, some question on his tongue. But he did not
ask it. He blinked.
Doc Savage was gone - swallowed silently by the evening darkness. There was no sound, no stir, to
show what direction he had taken. After the one blink of slight surprise, Renny settled back to wait. He
was accustomed to the uncanny silence with which Doc Savage moved.
Long association with Doc had made Renny, and also the other four men who comprised Doc's group of
five aides, accustomed to the unusual things which the giant bronze man did. Feats which, if given
publicity, would have been good for newspaper headlines, were taken without undue surprise by the
five.
A man of mystery, the newspapers called Doc Savage. This was because it was next to Impossible to
interview Doc. To the reporters, he was one of those rarities - a man who really did not want to see
himself splashed all over the front pages.
Rumors about Doc's feats were plentiful, however, and from these some of the most inventive scribes
had turned out yarns which, although a bit careless of the facts in spots, made interesting reading. They
ascribed to Doc the ability to do almost anything. Since the bronze man was something of a phantom,
about whom few facts were obtainable, the writers let their imaginations run riot.
Few knew it, but the laugh was on the reporters. This man of mystery, this strange giant of bronze, was a
personage every bit as remarkable as they depicted. The truth would have surprised nobody more than
the reporters.
Doc Savage was, had the facts been published, a man of wonders, as well as probably being the
supreme adventurer of all time.
RENNY, SEATED in the cab, was not thinking of these facts. He was straining his ears to understand
the headlines the distant newsboys were shouting. The words were loud enough, but the newsies needed
a few lessons on how to speak distinctly.
Renny at length ascertained what they were shouting.
"W-u-xtra! P-oi-per!" they bawled. "Advertisement offers one million dollars reward for information
leading to location of Doc Savage!"
Renny had a sober, puritanical face which habitually bore the expression of a man who greatly
disapproved of the world in general. But now a wide grin warped his features.
"A million reward!" he chuckled. "I don't wonder that the crowd came down here to get a look at the
party who would offer a reward like that!"
Renny was not exactly awed at the size of the sum - he was considerably more than a millionaire himself.
However, the idea of a million-dollar reward was astounding. It was somewhat unbelievable. Privately,
Renny thought there must be a joker somewhere.
His ears suddenly caught a new headline, one which the newsboys were not yelling very much.
"Ghost Zeppelin sighted in Maine!" was the cry.
Thoughtfully, Renny's big knuckles tapped the steering wheel.
"A ghost airship!" he muttered. "That's almost as fantastic as this million dollar reward business! I wonder
if the two can have any connection? Probably not! Anyway, somebody up in Maine must have seen a
cigar-shaped cloud and let their imagination get the best of 'em!"
This explanation of the spectral Zeppelin seemed the most likely one. Indeed, several newspaper
reporters standing on the end of a pier were echoing exactly the same idea.
"Forget the Zeppelin!" one scribe snapped at his companion. The second news hawk was only a fledgling
at the game, a cub newly out of journalism school.
"But the airship is a good story!" he objected. "Think of it! A mysterious Zeppelin! What could its mission
be?"
"Maybe it's comin' down from the north pole to get a bunch of dumb cubs and take 'em on a visit to
Santa Claus!" gritted the older head.
"But that Zeppelin - "
"Shut up!" roared the other. "When we get back to the city room I'm gonna drown you in a paste pot!
Zeppelins! Zeppelins! Blazes with 'em! Here's the hottest story of the year, in case you don't know it!
And it seems you don't!"
"Publicity stunt!" jeered the cub. "Probably this Doc Savage offered the reward to himself, just to get his
name in the paper!"
The older reporter made a gesture of tearing out his hair in rage. "Am I burned up! Am I a cinder! Your
head will never make anything but a paperweight!"
The cub was not fazed. "It looks like a publicity stunt to me! The idea of anybody offering a million
dollars to get hold of any man is ridiculous!"
"Did you ever interview Doc Savage?" the other asked fiercely.
"No."
"Did you ever hear of anybody who had interviewed 'im?"
"No."
"Then shut up! Doc Savage hasn't been interviewed because he don't go for publicity. That shows this is
not a stunt!"
The cub scratched his head. He was obviously impressed.
"Just what kind of a bird is this Doc Savage?" he asked curiously.
"Didn't you read my by-line story in the bulldog edition?" snorted the other.
"Yes. You told me to do that so I'd know how a good reporter writes, but I don't mind telling you I
thought it was lousy. Was what you put in the story all you know about Doc Savage?"
"Just about," replied the older head, deciding to be patient instead. "Savage don't brag about himself; but
who have met him - people he's helped - have told plenty. Some of it is hard to believe.
"For one thing, they claim this bronze guy is qualified as a specialist, not only in surgery and medicine, but
in electricity, chemistry, geology, engineering in about everything else! A specialist, mind you! Not a
dabbler! They say none of the big shots in those lines are superior to Savage in learning. He can tell 'em
all things about their own rackets."
"I don't believe it!" confided the cub.
"Well, that's your privilege. They say furthermore that Samson was a piker alongside this guy Savage
when it comes to physical strength. They say Savage can take a horseshoe and tie it in knots."
"I don't believe that, either!" said the cub.
The other glared. "D'you believe anything I tell you?"
"No," grinned the cub. "They told me at the office that you were the biggest liar on the paper."
The veteran gnashed his teeth, but his mock rage gave way to laughter.
THE SEARCHLIGHT of a tub swept the bay at this moment, and both reporters staring at it, forgot their
conversation.
A short distance from shore, a small steamer was visible. The vessel was primarily a freight carrier, but
her superstructure held passenger accommodations. She was neatly painted. As the searchlight swept the
craft, the lettering on the bows was momentarily readable:
YANKEE BEAUTY
"That's the tub!" ejaculated the older reporter. "We've got to get aboard and interview the mysterious
party who signed himself 'Imperiled!' and offered the reward. Imagine what a story must be behind that!
I'd give a lot to scoop these other birds on the yarn!"
"Why isn't the steamer tying up at the pier?" asked the cub.
"The company which owns her is small and has only one pier, which is occupied by another boat of the
same line until midnight; then the boat sails. The Yankee Beauty will come alongside the dock when the
midnight boat leaves and makes room."
The veteran reporter cast a wily glance at other gentlemen of the press and their photographers, who
were near by. Then he nudged the cub. "Let's go!"
The cub exclaimed, "But what - "
"Sh-h-h-h!" The journalist dean guided his satellite away from the other scribes, taking care that their
exodus attracted no attention. When well out of earshot, he made explanations.
"I've got an idea!" he whispered. "We'll rent a launch and go out to the Yankee Beauty. We'll interview
whoever offered that reward, or know the reason why!"
"But the captain of the Yankee Beauty sent a radio message saying he would not let any reporters
aboard! And when the ship reporters tried to go aboard down the bay, when the boat stopped at
quarantine, they were prevented."
"I know all that. The steamer captain was helping the person or persons, who offered the reward, to
avoid publicity."
"They'll kick us off if we try to go aboard," declared the cub.
"Not me!" boasted the other. "I've never seen the place yet that I couldn't get into!"
The two newspapermen moved off in search of a small craft which they could rent. They kept in the
shadows, so as not to he seen by other members of their profession.
They were passing a darkened warehouse when the cub gave a violent start. Leaning forward, he peered
into the murk.
"Hey!" he ejaculated. "I just saw a naked man!"
"Where?" demanded the other.
"Over there!" He pointed, but there seemed to be little more than a heavy gloom. He explained: "I didn't
get much of a look."
The older man snorted unbelievingly.
"First it was ghost Zeppelins, and now it's ghost men!" he growled. "You didn't see anything! Come on!
We've got to find a small boat!"
The cub permitted himself to be led off. He was not positive he had actually seen a form.
The young fellow had forgotten to mention the most important detail - the unusual bronze color of the
man he had seen. Had he spoken of that, his more experienced companion would have known instantly
that the phantom figure was real - that it was Doc Savage!
Chapter 2. THE FLUTTERING DEATH
WHEN THE two reporters had moved on, Doc Savage appeared from a recess into which he had
stepped to avoid discovery. He approached the water, keeping to the shadows. His bathing suit was
almost the color of his bronze skin, and both blended well with the night.
Halting where small waves sloshed gently against wharf piling, he opened the waterproof bag which he
carried. But of this came a luminous-dial compass fitted with a wristband. He donned it.
The next object to appear was the end of a flexible hose, equipped with a mouthpiece, and terminating in
an artificial "lung" - the latter contained in the bag. There was also a small metal clamp for holding the
nostrils closed.
Doc grasped the mouthpiece in his teeth, fitted the nose clamp, and adjusted the oxygen-feeding and
breath-purifying mechanism in the bag. Then he closed the container, sealing it to make it waterproof. He
slung it tightly to his back with straps provided for that purpose.
Hardly a splash sounded as the giant bronze man entered the water. He swam far beneath the surface,
using an experienced, easy stroke. He glanced often at the luminous, watertight compass, so as to keep
going in the direction he desired.
Doc Savage was headed for the little steamer, Yankee Beauty, to investigate the source of the fabulous
reward. He was taking this unusual means of reaching the ship because he wanted to learn whether there
was anything sinister about the fantastic offer. He desired to know what was back of it before he showed
himself.
There might conceivably be men who would pay a million dollars to have Doc Savage killed.
In a way, it was part of Doc's life work to make enemies. Many of those whom he antagonized were
powerful. Doc played no favorites. Doc's career, his purpose in life, was a strange one. He helped those
who needed help, and punished those who deserved it. He traveled to the far corners of the earth in
doing his work.
Naturally, his career was one calculated to make bitter foes of all evildoers. So Doc was taking no
chances about this fantastic million-dollar reward business.
It was nothing unusual for a bad man, fearing Doc's vengeance, to come seeking to murder the bronze
man. This might he such a plot.
No ripple appeared on the bay surface to betray Doc's presence, although searchlights frequently
sprayed the water.
He made great speed, a speed few professional swimmers could have equaled.
Doc was a wizard in the water, just as he was a wizard at many other things. His life work was one
which called for the abilities of a superman, and Doc had been trained from the cradle, that he might have
the strength to arise to any occasion. Each day, he went through an intensive exercise routine to develop
his great brain and body. Two hours of intense practice!
There was no mystery about Doc's powers. His terrific daily exercise accounted for them.
The necessity for a sanctum in which to study, that he might periodically increase his vast fund of
knowledge, had led Doc to establish a mysterious retreat known as his "Fortress of Solitude." None but
Doc knew the whereabouts of this place, or what amazing scientific equipment it contained. No human
could get in touch with Doc during the periods when he retired to his retreat for study. His strenuous
mental labors brooked no interruption.
Doc had returned tonight from his Fortress of Solitude. Just how thoroughly. a mystery his retreat was
could be realized by the fact that not even an offer of a million dollar reward had located him. Doc's five
men, those closest to him, could not find him.
DECIDING HE was near the Yankee Beauty, Doc stroked to the surface. He had calculated well. The
ship lay only a few yards distant.
Doc sank once more, and when he came up, he was near the stern.
He removed the artificial "lung" and placed it in the bag. Out of the container, he took a coil of thin, stout
silk line. To one end of this was affixed a grapple hook of light alloy metals.
Doc flipped the grapple upward. It dropped over the rail and hooked securely.
The silken cord, because of its small diameter, would have presented quite a problem to an ordinary
climber. But so toughened were the big sinews in Doc's hands, that he gripped the line and climbed it
with what looked like comparative ease.
He surmounted the rail, making no noise, and whipped behind a near-by capstan, which was nearly as
large as a barrel. Lurking there, he wrung water out of the skirts of his bathing suit. His bronze hair,
straight and lying tightly to his head, possessed the remarkable quality of seeming impervious to
water-like the pelt of some water-dwelling animal. Scant moisture clung to his fine-textured bronze skin.
Doc was soon dry enough that he did not leave wet footprints on the deck. A great form which seemed
to flow from shadow to shadow, he glided forward. The waterproof bag reposed under an arm.
Doc was hardly out of sight when a creeping figure appeared around the opposite corner of the deck
house. A man! The fellow carried a large revolver, cocked for a quick shot.
He was tall, but with a body so wasted that it was composed of little else than bones. His skin was
unnaturally white, as if it were a sheet stretched over his bony frame. His eyes were feverish, staring,
sunken far in his head. He was not an old man - yet his hair was entirely white! A man physically
broken!
It was apparent he had discerned some movement on the deck, but did not know what it meant. He
crept slowly ahead.
A distant searchlight, its glow reflected by the white-deck house, lighted the deck faintly.
The skulking man discovered the damp spots where water had dripped from Doc's bathing suit. The sight
set him shaking as with the ague.
Whirling, he fled down the deck. His eyes roved incessantly, and he pointed his gun at every patch of
darkness. His movements showed the grip of a consuming terror.
He made his way to a passenger cabin. He rapped twice On the door, then made a scratching noise with
his finger nails. A signal!
"Who is there?" asked a shaking, scared voice from within the cabin.
"Eet ees me - Jules!" gulped the first man. "Let me een, M'sieu' Red! Sacre I have ze worst of news!"
The cabin door opened, framing a man who also held a revolver. This individual had a great, bristling
thatch of fiery red hair. Once he had been stocky, powerful; but now he was hardly more than a gaunt
frame of bones.
They were strangely alike, these two men, with their wasted bodies and their haunted, ridden faces. It
was as if they to the same brotherhood of terror. Both were broken men.
"What is your bad news, Jules?" asked the flame-haired one.
Jules shivered. His eyes rolled.
"Let us go to ze Lady Nelia," he suggested. "Eet ees better that we three be together, oui."
This seemed agreeable to "Red." He and Jules moved down the passage a few yards, where they gave
the knock-and-scratch signal upon a stateroom door.
The panel opened slightly, to disclose a gun muzzle.
"Oh - it's you two!" said a musical female voice. "Come in."
THE YOUNG woman who admitted them, presented a striking figure. Her features were aristocratic,
finely molded. she was as tall as either of the men, and an athletic grace marked her movements. Her hair
and eyes were shades of brown; her lips were an inviting curve.
She was a queenly beauty, yet there was in her manner an air of restrained panic, a pervading terror.
"What is wrong?" she questioned tensely.
"Lady Nelia, M'sieu' Red!" Jules gasped. "Some one ees come on ze ship secretly! I am on deck and I
t'ink I see somet'ing zat move! Me, I go for ze look. Sacre! I fin' on ze deck wet prints of ze human
foot!"
Lady Nelia's slender hand tightened visibly on her gun. "It must have been Yuttal or Hadi-Mot! No one
else would have reason to come aboard furtively!"
Red hefted his revolver grimly. "Yuttal and Hadi-Mot know we're on the Yankee Beauty, I guess."
"Of course they do!" Lady Nelia agreed emphatically. "The Yankee Beauty was the only boat sailing
from Africa around the time we reached the coast in our flight. The fact that several times we heard the
moan of engines overhead shows they were trying to find the boat. The only thing that saved us was the
cloudy, foggy weather which the Yankee Beauty met during the first days of the voyage. They could not
locate the boat."
"You're right," Red assented. "It was the infernal Zeppelin we heard. If it hadn't been for the fog, they'd
have dropped bombs and blown us to pieces."
"But 'ow could Yuttal and Hadi-Mot arrive at New York ahead of us?" Jules put in.
"In the airship!" Red pointed out "The craft is easily capable of a non-stop ocean flight!"
"They will seek to murder us, of course!" Lady Nelia said in a strained tone. "Should we finally escape, it
would mean the collapse of their whole hideous project!"
The young woman's words had the effect of shattering Jules's remnant of nerve. He emitted a tortured
sob of a cry, covered his emaciated face with his hands and sank trembling into a chair.
"C'est trop fort!" he moaned. "Eet ees too bad! Eet ees more zan I can stand! I am defeat!"
"Jules!" Lady Nelia exclaimed sharply. "Brace up! You cannot lose your nerve after we have gone
through so much and gotten this far!"
Jules rocked his face in his hands, whimpering, "Non, non! We 'ave no chance to escape! Yuttal and
Hadi-Mot will trap us. They will turn upon us zat horrible death which they command! Zat death of ze
darkness! Sacre! Eet will get us! Me, I cannot stand ze t'ing no longer! I will end eet!"
The broken, dread-stricken voice had lifted hysterically toward the last. Mad desperation suddenly
seized him. He whipped up his gun and clamped the muzzle against his own temple!
"Jules!" Red snapped out the yell as he leaped. He knocked the weapon aside. The two men struggled a
moment. Red finally got possession of the revolver.
Jules fell upon a berth and lay there shaking, sobbing from weakness and shame.
LADY NELIA and Red exchanged glances. There was no disgust in their eyes, only pity for the man on
the berth. A man who had undergone an experience so frightful that it had reduced him to a frail,
tremulous hull!
In their eyes was some of the dread and despair which racked Jules, even though they tried hard to mask
it.
Lady Nelia moved to Jules's side and dropped a sympathetic arm across his trembling shoulders.
"You must not take a coward's way out, Jules," she told him gently. "You must help us. We must fight this
thing out together."
"Non," mumbled Jules. "Eet ees no use."
Realizing sympathy was not going to bolster Jules's nerve, Lady Nelia tried another method. She drew
away from the frightened man. Scorn came upon her aristocratic features.
"Very well!" she said bitingly. "If you wish to think only of yourself, do so. Red and I will carry on. We're
going to save those hundreds of poor souls whom we left behind, if it is humanly possible!"
Jules flinched under her words as if they were lashing whips. "Those others - those others," he mumbled.
"Sacre! I have almos' forget zem!"
"So I thought!" Lady Nelia snapped witheringly. "You would leave them helpless, doomed to a ghastly
living death! In us rests their only hope. And you haven't the nerve to carry on for them, even if not for
yourself."
The scathing words obtained the effect desired. Jules straightened his shoulders. He even managed a
摘要：

THELOSTOASISADocSavageAdventure,byKennethRobesonThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?ChapterI.AMILLION-DOLLARMYSTERY?Chapter2.THEFLUTTERINGDEATH?Chapter3.THEHORRORTRAIL?Chapter4.TWINSOFEVIL?Chapter5.TROUBLEBUSTER,INC.?Chapter6.GRIMQUEST?Chapter7.PHANTOMPURSUIT?Chapter8.NIGH...

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