48 hours on the Magic Island, 48 hours in this strange scientific colony called Euclidia. The cabins of the Gregory Yacht are now completely lined with the sound and lightproof cloth of the island. The Gregory Party can talk in privacy as the delicate recording instruments of the scientists cannot penetrate the opaque cloth of their own manufacture. G-47, mad genius of the island, has allowed Mrs. Gregory, her daughter, and friends to remain aboard their yacht tied to the island. Captain Bradford, Mrs. Gregory, Joan, and Jerry are grouped in the radio cabin of the yacht. It is midnight, their third midnight at the island. Well, what do you think of your new suit, Jerry? Oh, it's all right, I guess, but Mrs. Gregory isn't so hot as a tailor. I'm sorry, Jerry, but it will do for our purpose. You look quite nice in a suit of Euclidean kelp cloth, I think, Jerry. There you are, Jerry. Joan likes it, so you're all right. Oh, I don't care much how it looks, just so as it does the trick. There isn't any other way to get the pigeon into the cabin here without someone on Euclidean noticing it. Are you so sure, Captain Bradford, that this pigeon will fly to the other boat and find it? I never knew one of these birds to fail yet. I wish we'd hear from Johnson again. How close do you figure him to be now, Tex? He's not more than seven or eight hundred miles, and likely making about 40 knots now. He'll be slowing up as he gets nearer to try and discover what's wrong with us before he runs into needless danger himself. He'd never dream the sort of place where prison is on, and with G-47 blocking our radio beam, we haven't a thing but the homing pigeons to warn him with. What message will you send with the pigeon, Captain? I'll have to send instructions about my formula. It is the only thing to attack the island with. But suppose the pigeon goes to the wrong boat or makes to land someplace. Then your formula will be in someone else's hands. No matter who gets what I send, any country in the world would come to our aid here. Remember that our escape will probably mean the only chance there is of saving the entire world from scientific conquest by these madmen. Joan dear, what do you think their attitude would be if they should take over the world? Are they criminals or merely power-mad? I think they are mad for power, selfish ambition to rule over and terrorize people. They speak of people in your world as dumb animals, only fit to do the bidding of the Euclideans. Then I'm afraid the world would be just a gigantic laboratory for them to experiment with. I think that, Mother, and I know they plan to put machines at work in place of human brains to experiment on people as they do now on animals and rule the world by science. Nice people to meet on a dark night. Golly, but we've got a job ahead of us. If we can only get off this crazy island and destroy it, we can really save the world. This is war, Jerry, and a war that means freedom for the civilized people of the world. We've got to win. Our lives mean very little at a time like this. Our lives will mean plenty to the rest of the world. If we can just keep alive long enough to get this message through to Johnson. Ready for me to bring the pigeon in now? Might as well, Jerry. Now look, try to act natural standing in front of the coat and look all around carefully. When you are sure no one is looking, slip the pigeon inside your suit and come back in here. Wait, Jerry. Be sure the warning light in the center of the island is not burning. That will mean the electrical eyes on the island are not working. The fog will not be magnetized and only the long beam signals will be sweeping the ocean outside the fog ring. You're a great help, my dear. You remember everything. We on Euclidia are well trained in observation. Okay, Jerry, go to it. Watch your step and go slowly and naturally, both going and coming back. Right. I'll take my time. Now, Joan, you know more about this island than we do. What do you think Jerry's chances are to get that pigeon and return here without being seen? He will undoubtedly be seen, but there is a possibility that no one will notice him taking the pigeon from its usual place and slipping it under his coat. And you're sure this cloth will keep the islanders from seeing he's carrying anything unusual under his coat? If he is not stopped and searched because of his special cloth suit, no one will see through it. Tex, we should have thought of that. Of course there will be a guard on the yacht and he'll stop Jerry and question him about that suit. Got to chance it. But G-47 promised to outfit us completely in the cloth tomorrow. Then we could have done this without arousing any suspicion. You are right, Mother. It would have been much wiser to wait until tomorrow night to try and get the pigeon from the stern of the yacht. I know it would from a detection angle, but we can't afford waiting till tomorrow night. Why not, Tex? Johnson will have the other boat much nearer then and the pigeons would reach it easily and quickly. Exactly, and Johnson would also be reached easily and quickly by the devices they have here on this mad island. That is also true, Captain. Your other boat will be in danger of being reported on these delicate instruments of G-47s when it is within 200 miles. That was stupid of me, wasn't it, Tex? No, this is enough to mix anyone up. We'll all think together. Naturally, we must get word to Johnson while he's still out of range of their detection. But, Joan, you said the Euclidians watched our yacht all the way from the coast of California to this island, 4,000 miles. How then is Johnson safe to within 200 miles? They were watching for you to sail. When they use the universal prism reflectors with full power on a narrow focus, they have a range of 8,000 miles. But the object must be in daylight and the apparatus is strictly directional. Good. Then at night and Johnson will be running down the same time zone we lie in, at night all they use is a general wide-range detector. And this is no good beyond 200 miles? That is right, Captain. Then the quicker we get the pigeon off to Johnson, the better, as our plans might go for nothing even if the bird made the boat but Johnson was caught. Yes, Mother. G-47 would send out a submarine or straight a plane and destroy him before daylight. Have you the message all written out, Tex? This tiny roll of paper contains all the information Johnson needs. That is, all he will need for the present day. That is, all he will need for the present. If this gets through, it's a matter of routine to finish the job. This pigeon must get through, Tex. I feel that we'd never be given a second chance. It's now or never. I got him all right and our soul was anywhere near the yacht. But that yellow haze, how could you see through it? They are not using the sub-ultraviolet fog tonight. It is too difficult to generate and uses up too much of the supply of gas. They only use it in time of danger. Or when they want to impress someone with their tricks as they did when we landed. All right, we'd better lose no time now. Handle the pigeon carefully, kid. Right. They're mighty sensitive about how they're handled. Oh, what a nice little bird. It doesn't seem possible that it could fly as fast and as far as you say. Homing pigeons are very wonderful, my dear, and they seldom fail. Now hold him gently but firmly, Jerry, while I tie this roll of paper on his leg. I'm using Euclidean cloth thread so there's no danger of any magnetic force holding this little fellow back. How do I let him go? Better just walk around the deck again. Take a turn all the way around. Then when you stroll slowly up near the stern on the starboard side, just open your coat and let it out. Then keep on walking. Take another turn of the boat if it seems natural, and don't hurry back in here. Will that message not blow off in the wind? Not the way Tex is tying it on. He's tied too many of them. No, sir, this note will stay with the pigeon till Johnson takes it off. Are you sure the pigeon can find the other boat in the dark? They've been trained as much in night flying as in day. They'll do it easily enough, but this one won't have to. It ought to be daylight when he reaches the boat. But how will Mr. Johnson catch it without hurting it? There's a coat on Johnson's boat to which this bird has been trained to fly. The door will be open and the bird goes in. That's all there is to it. I wish we knew exactly where Johnson was. It would be a shame to start the poor little cruiser off with its goal out of reach. No danger of that if Johnson's last position was correct and he keeps coming at 40 knots or better. There he is, Jerry. Handle him gently. Do just as I told you. And if you should meet anyone, you're just going for a walk. Someone is likely patrolling the pier along the yacht rail. Be careful, Jerry. I will. I will. Don't worry so much. Better button up your coat. It's loose enough so it won't crush the bird. And let your arm swing naturally as you walk around the deck. Good luck, kid. Well, here I go again. Now don't worry about anything. Oh, Tex. Don't be nervous, Pat. It's out of our hands now. Jerry will do it right, Mother. He's a very clever boy. I know that, dear, but it's such a strain. We've been tied up to this ghastly island just over 48 hours now. And it seems like a lifetime. No good to worry about it, Pat. You and Joan better go to your own cabin and get some rest as soon as Jerry gets the pigeon started. How long will it be before we get an answer? That all depends on... J-24Y. J-12C calling J-24Y. Hold it. There's Johnson now. At least they haven't stopped the incoming beams. J-12 to J-24Y. Hello, J-24. J-12C reporting. No signal from you. Land stations report they cannot raise you. Taking chance of this getting through to you. Storm warning. Storm center near your last reported position. May be reason you cannot get signal to me. Serious storm is reported moving directly north of you. Storm moving south at terrific speed. Present storm center, 17 degrees south. If you are getting my signal, advise you run out of storm course. Land stations report all radio channels near you blocked by some terrific electrical disturbance. If you can hear me, run for it. Storm center, 17 degrees south. Confirm if you can hear me. That is all. Johnson on J-12C. Oh Tex, he's coming fast, isn't he? I'll say he is. 17 degrees south, hey? And we're only 29. Then he's just 12 degrees north of us. I'm so excited I can't figure it out in my head. You got a pencil, Tex? Yeah, and I'm using it for that same little thing. I've got it figured, mother. You have? You mentally converted degrees into miles that fast? Of course, that is simple. Oh, I did not use the fractions, but there are approximately 69 statute or land miles to a degree at this latitude. Joan, you know the conversion tables by memory? You certainly got an education on this island. There isn't one person in a hundred who could figure that in their head, even if they knew the conversion tables. 12 degrees at 69 miles to a degree is 828 miles. Then if Johnson is making 40 knots an hour or more... He's making plenty more. He said storm traveling south at terrific speed, and terrific speed with Johnson means all the boat will do, and the pigeon will make 40 going to meet him if the wind is favorable. Then they should meet in less than five hours. Right you are. Johnson will have that message at daylight. But suppose G-47 has figured out Johnson's code. What if he knows that every time Johnson reported the storm center, he was giving his own position? He's sure to know it. For one thing, his own radio beam will tell him there is no storm. He knows Johnson's coming, and he wants him to keep on coming, so he can capture that boat also. As he probably knows, most of our equipment is on it. But if Johnson is captured, we can do nothing. Don't worry dear, that pigeon will get to Johnson's boat three or four hundred miles from here, and Johnson will turn and run out of the danger the minute he reads the message. Oh boy, oh boy, everything swell. Now the soul was on our side of the island, and the pigeon took off into the north side of the fog like a bullet after he fluttered around a minute and got his bearings. Oh mother, the pigeon really got away. I'll say he got away. And it won't be long till we all get away.
