PHOTO - the Dragon

**

Brad Cooper had driven the motorboat all night on the waters of the Solomon Sea, guided by the moonlight and the ever-present shadow of the island of New Britain. He was filled with the exuberance of being free and the thrill of getting closer to Rabaul where the final plans would be made in the search to find his dad.

It was now early morning, and the light of the low-riding moon still drenched everything in silver. Brad could see dawn's early bright far to the east on the starboard side, a peachy-pink glow slivered along the horizon. The compass on the dash now pointed due north. The island coast had changed direction from east-west to north-south as it curved up toward its northeastern tip and the city of Rabaul.

Clint and Jimmy were sprawled out on the floor behind Brad, fast asleep. After their escape, when they knew the Mirandu was far behind them, they stopped to refuel from the supply in the storage locker. Then Brad's buds sacked out to rest as he piloted the craft for hours with the hot tropical wind ruffling his hair and the coconut palms swaying on the dark shore. Caught in the spell of the South Seas night, fueled by the urgency of his quest, Brad felt like he wouldn't need sleep for the entire week to come.

The sea was calm now. The swells were gone, replaced by flat waters with barely a ripple. But Brad still kept an eye out for broken water. It wasn't likely there'd be reefs this far out but he knew it was best to be safe so they'd get to the Meena Islands without any more problems.

"Just follow the coast," Jimmy had told him before falling asleep, "and you'll run right into them."

In Meena Town there'd be a government official to inform about the pirate attack. And there might be a better connection to Rabaul, still a few hundred miles on, like a faster boat or even an airplane.

Brad grinned, thinking how great an airplane ride would be after this all-night escapade in the motorboat.

He turned around to look at Clint and Jimmy and what he saw startled him, then instantly angered him, then a moment later made him burst out laughing. They were sprawled out on the floor, Jimmy on his stomach with his arms folded under his face. Clint was right next to him, his arm flung around Jimmy's back, hand fastened on his shoulder. Clint's right leg was flung over Jimmy's legs and his face was buried firmly in Jimmy's neck.

Brad shook his head. "The creep! Try and get him to do that to me."

But then he remembered how lovable Clint had been after the shooting and he shrugged his shoulders, figuring the two boys didn't even know they were in a clinch. Darn, but he wished he could stop the boat and join them, cuddle right up in there between them.

And he wondered what Jimmy would have to say if he woke up in that position with Clint  sprawled all over him.

Then, suddenly, Brad realized it was lighter. The peachy eastern horizon was streaming upward into a lemon-yellow glaze where wispy clouds were lazily drifting. The moonlight was gone and the few remaining stars could barely be seen. With a catch of his breath, Brad slowed the boat as it unexpectedly came upon the Meena Islands, as if they had suddenly jumped out of the sea in front of him.

The beauty of the islands was unearthly in the dawn light. He drove slowly past small atolls and coral rock islands, some with white sandy beaches where the palm trees leaned far over the shore. Low native huts hid in the foliage and shadows moved about from the rising sun and drifting clouds. Brad could see coral gardens of brilliant colors and fantastic formations in the water below as the boat cruised right over them.

"Hey! What the fuck?"

Brad was startled by the shout from behind. It was Jimmy, and Brad turned to see him shoving Clint off of him, huffing and puffing like an angry prize fighter.

"You big homo!" the native boy yelled. "Whaddaya think I am ... a fuckin' teddy bear?"

Clint had obviously just awoken too and was falling back from Jimmy's shove looking like he didn't know what the hell was going on. "Whaaa ... whaaa... whaddaya talkin' about?"

"You were laying all over me," Jimmy shouted, sitting up and glaring at Clint. "And slobbering all over my neck. Maybe that's what you do with Brad, but who says you can do it to me?"

"You're outta your mind," Clint sneered back at him. He kept shaking his head, trying to shake himself awake. "I probably just rolled over onto you. Puh! Like I'd even wanna touch you."

Brad started laughing at them. Neither one of them was fully awake and they didn't realize they both had big bulging crotches.

"Yes, you were laying all over him, Clint," Brad said. "For quite a while. But don't worry, he liked it. He's just as turned on as you are."

Then he looked back ahead, chuckling to himself.

"Fuck!" Jimmy grumbled, squirming around and trying to hide the proof right there in his pants.

"Aww... get over it," Clint hissed at him. "I was dreaming about a pretty girl and you just happened to be within reach."

Jimmy let out a snort. "Oh yah, sure. I bet you never dream about girls. Only Brad."

Clint snorted back. "So ... whaddaya ... jealous?"

"Oh jeez! Ohmygod!" Jimmy hefted himself up onto the side seat. "You guys are totally crazy. And everybody around here thinks Americans are so swell. They should know!"

"Knock it off," Clint growled at him, pulling himself onto the seat on the other side. "And don't call me a homo. I'll pick you up and throw you clear onto one of those islands out there."

"Oh, here we go again," Jimmy laughed at him now. "The tough guy. Big white B'wana! I bet you can't even throw a coconut."

"Hey! I was the quarterback on our high school football team. I threw the ball to Brad. He was my receiver. Amazing passes, every darn one. And he caught almost every one and ran them to score."

"Rah rah, Clint and Brad!" Jimmy hooted. "And I bet you two ogled the other guys on the team when you were taking showers after those games, huh?"

Brad kept his eyes on the islands passing by as he heard Clint grunt, "You better stuff it, jungle boy, or I'll come over there and kiss you."

Brad burst out laughing as Jimmy jumped over the back of the seat and plopped down next to him, shouting, "Stop him! Don't let him get near me."

Brad struggled to stifle his laughter. "But he kisses really good, Jimmy."

"Jeezuz! You're just as bad. I'm goddamn trapped."

Brad snorted. "I thought you said you went to boarding school."

"I did. And I said I know what goes on. But I didn't say I joined in."

"There's always a first time," Clint said from behind them.

"Yikes! Now you're really scaring me." Jimmy nudged Brad in the arm. "You saved his life last night and now he's totally coming out of his shell."

Brad nodded. "They call it a 'closet'. And you're absolutely right. And I'm lovin' it!"

Jimmy rolled his eyes in exasperation as Clint suddenly exclaimed, "Holy crap! Look at all that stuff down there."

Brad and Jimmy turned to see him bent down looking over the side at the colorful coral gardens below.

"This would sure be a great place to do some diving." He pulled himself back up and swept his eyes around, fully awake now. "Pretty islands. Lots of them, too."

"One hundred and fifty-nine, to be exact." Jimmy stretched his arms and yawned, looking around as if he'd finally completely awakened. "Hey, it's dawn. You've been driving all night, Brad. Tired?"

"No way. I'm too excited. How often do you get to escape from pirates in the South Seas?"

"Not often. In fact, it's the first time for me, and I live here."

"That's because," Clint intoned in a superior tone of voice, "you needed the company of Brad and me to qualify for such an adventure."

Jimmy gaped at him, brows raised. "Yah, right," he scoffed. "Here goes the loony big white B'wana again."

"Yah right, right,"  Clint grunted. "You may be the South Seas jungle boy, and a real pretty one at that, but we're the ones who provided the missing scientists. It's not everybody who has some of those."

"Okay, cut it out with the 'pretty' already, huh?" Jimmy growled.

Clint just glared back at him. "Sure. You stop being so damn pretty and I'll stop talking about it. Deal?"

Jimmy looked at him for a moment and then swung his head back forward, trying to hide a smile. But Brad had seen it and all he could do was smile too. He'd never seen Clint be so bold about such things before, and it was a great big wonderful surprise.

Jimmy pointed to a big island coming up straight ahead. "That's Meena Town."

Brad could see a low huddle of buildings on the shore, the sun winking off metal roofs. Broken water showed a barrier reef forming a sizable lagoon. A shipping channel had been cut through the reef, and there were a number of boats docked at the two piers ashore - a schooner, trawlers, launches, and even a small tanker.

"I came here a couple times with my dad when I was a kid," Jimmy said. "You can see the reef break where there isn't any foaming water. It's big. Just stay on center and you'll go right through."

By the time they reached the reef the dawn had given way to a bright sunny day. Brad easily kept the boat on course through the break and they entered the big lagoon where signs of life were already beginning to appear. Native workers were on the piers and up by the sheds, and a couple small trawlers were making their way out for the day's fishing.

Brad saw a church with a steeple on the road cutting through town. There were European-style bungalows nearby and native homes leading up into the bush. As the motorboat approached the closest pier, the boys saw a man standing at the end dressed in an official-looking uniform. He pulled off his cap and waved it at them.

"Looks like a welcoming committee." Clint leaned between Brad and Jimmy to get a better look. "I wonder who he is."

"Probably the resident magistrate," Jimmy suggested, "the District Officer. No need to worry, these Aussies are pretty decent. Of course, we must look like dangerous thugs riding in a stolen boat full of weapons."

Clint bopped Jimmy on the shoulder. "I'll hold you personally responsible if we end up in some kind of South Sea island jail."

"Me?" Jimmy looked at him with an incredulous expression. "It's you guys that every cutthroat in the South Pacific is after, not me."

"Whoa!" Brad suddenly shouted excitedly as he gaped ahead. "Man, do you guys see what I see?"

Both boys followed his gaze and saw up ahead, moored to the pier, a bush plane on floats that until now had been hidden from view by the rusty old tanker.

"Ho! I see it." Clint grinned excitedly. "And I want to be in it. Whoosh! Cruising high in the sunny blue sky."

"Maybe we can?" Jimmy mused. "Some of the islands have air service now and that one looks like it could hold all three of us and the pilot, too."

"It can hold six to eight passengers," Brad told him. "That's a twin-engine DeHavilland Dragon, made in Canada. Yow, I'd sure like to take that baby for a spin."

The light transport biplane had high and low wings and was painted a drab military green with orange call letters on its side and a colorful national flag on its tail.

"It could've been a war plane," Jimmy said. "It's got New Zealand's flag on it."

"Brad's dad owns an airplane," Clint told him. "A Piper Cub. It's smaller than that one and only seats two, but we fly it all over the place at home."

"I wish we had it with us today." Brad guided the boat to the side of the pier. "We could stop here for breakfast and then fly right up to Rabaul."

"Maybe we'll get that Dragon." Jimmy looked hopefully up to the man awaiting them on the pier. "This fellow can probably tell us if it's available."

He tossed a rope up to the official who'd put his cap back on and seemed eager to help them. The man caught the rope and fastened it to a bollard as Brad maneuvered the motorboat into position next to a ladder. Clint fastened a rope on the stern to an iron ring on one of the support posts. The man above placed his hands on his hips and looked down at them with obvious interest. His gaze fixed on the rifles, machete, and cartridge belts laying on the floor of the skiff.

"Howdy!" Clint called to him, as he stooped to stash the pirate weapons and their backpacks in the storage locker. "A fine morning, isn't it?"

"I dare say it's a real topper!" The fellow was a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair and a military bearing. But his smile was pleasant and his friendliness genuine. "You must be the young chaps from the Mirandu, eh?"

Brad switched off the engine and looked up at him in surprise. "You know what happened? Already? The pirates?"

The official gave him a quick nod. "We received a dispatch from Captain Ambrose early this morning. Apparently the pirates were after you three lads. Once they learned you'd gotten away with one of their boats, they abandoned ship. After, of course, they robbed a few unfortunate passengers of their valuables, the scum-bumbles."

"Ha! I suppose they had to get something for their trouble," Jimmy scoffed as he climbed up the ladder to the pier deck. "Hello there." He proffered his hand, adding, "I'm Jimmy Timateo from Lateela Island. These two guys are Brad Cooper and Clint Donaldson from New Jersey, way across the world in the USA."

The man grinned, shaking Jimmy's hand and then Brad's and Clint's in turn, as they climbed onto the pier. "Welcome to Meena Town, lads. I'm Fitzroy Manders, the District Officer, at your service.

"That was quite a tale Captain Ambrose had to tell," he went on. "You three blokes are as game as young fighting cocks. First the pirates try to kill one of you, then you steal their very own boat to make a getaway. Good show! You ought to be dead fagged-out by now, eh?"

Clint grinned at the friendly man. "Hell no. We're bustin' to move. Gotta get to Rabaul as soon as possible."

Brad pointed to the floating Dragon moored up the pier. "Is that plane available?"

Manders nodded. "Could be. It belongs to one of our residents. He transports freight and passengers all over the islands, so he might be able to accommodate you if he's not already booked today. I can take you to his place now, if you like. It's still early, but he's usually up at dawn and ready to fly."

"Excellent!" Brad was eager to get on with it. "The sooner we can get going, the better."

"Then come with me," the official said, gesturing up the pier. "Pocka Poco is the fellow's name and he flew transport throughout New Guinea during the war. A very experienced pilot."

The foursome walked up the pier past the boats and early morning workers. When they reached the Dragon, the boys had to stop and admire the biplane. Brad could feel himself just itching to get in the cockpit and take it up.

"I've never flown a plane that big," he said. "But I'd sure like to."

"Pocka bought it after the war," Manders told them. "The New Zealand Air Force has a fleet of them for search and rescue in their rugged wilderness areas. It's perfect for island hopping. Pocka's an old campaigner. He'll get you there to Rabaul before you can say 'knife'!"

As they walked on toward town, they gave Manders a brief rundown of what happened the night before. He told them that the Mirandu got its engines going again after the pirates disembarked, and the ship had gotten back on course. It would stop in Meena Town later in the day, but outside the reef. The freighter was too big to come into the shipping channel and lagoon.

"Those scum-bucket pirates are nothing but a bunch of wankers," the magistrate declared. Then he looked at the boys curiously. "You never know when they're going to attack in these waters, but it sure crowns all that they have a personal vendetta against you fellows. You'd better keep on all fours."

"We sure will," Brad nodded, glad that the man didn't pry further into their affairs and ask questions he didn't want to answer.

They walked up the main street of Meena Town past commercial buildings and the government office, a couple hotels, and a handful of restaurants, mostly of the Chinese variety. It was early yet and the street was deserted. Pigs wandered freely, grunting and rooting, and hens scratched about aimlessly as if they might actually find something edible in the hot dirt.

The magistrate led them into the bush and coconut palms down a narrow lane that was barely a path. Here there were clusters of native homes hidden from the hot sun by the jungle foliage. Manders stopped in front of a primitive bungalow similar to the ones where Jimmy lived on Lateela Island, and knocked sharply on the door.

He grinned at the boys. "Let me warn you. Pocka is a real character."

Brad nodded in return. "Good. Then we ought to really like him."

The door was pulled open from within by a kanaka man dressed in short pants and a sleeveless t-shirt. He looked to be in his thirties, tall, muscular and lean, and he had a bush of dark curly hair and bold native features. He nodded at Manders with a friendly smile and looked the boys over, his eyes resting on Jimmy.

"Gawd blimey, boy," he rapped out, chuckling. "I've seen blond brothers before on these islands, all shades from pink to brown, but never one like you with blue Chinese eyes."

Jimmy responded to this unexpected greeting with a proud beaming smile. "I am definitely one in a million, sir. There's nobody else like me in all of New Guinea."

"You can bet money on that, buster. I've been all around this land and you're an original." Pocka Poco's laughing eyes then turned to Manders and he asked, "So what's up, boss? Where'd you dig these boys up, eh?"

"They've got pirates after them, Pocka. The no good freebooters boarded the Mirandu last night and were looking to kill them. Clint here got shot at. Brad saved his life by thwarting the gunman." He gave him a brief rundown of the incident and the following escape from the freighter.

"Well, now you're talkin'!" Pocka grinned at the boys approvingly. "Anyone who outsmarts those wicked picaroons is a friend of mine. But what can I do for you blokes, eh? Sounds like you can sure as hell take care of yourselves."

"We have to get to Rabaul as soon as possible," Brad told him. "Like today. This afternoon. Can you fly us there in your Dragon?"

Pocka Poco looked at them with suspicious narrowed eyes. "Hmmmm ... runnin' away from pirates ... in a hurry to get to Rabaul? Are you guys on the level? Not in any trouble, are you?"

"We're as level as can be," Brad said. "We're on the trail of some missing people, my dad and two of his friends. We think the pirates got them. And they obviously want us, too. Out of the way, if you know what I mean."

The native man let out a low whistle. "Blimey, but that's some pretty serious stuff." Then he looked from Brad to Clint and back again. "Are you boys American?"

"You bet," Clint answered proudly. "We're from the state of New Jersey, near New York City."

Pocka nodded solemnly and then winked at Fitzroy Manders. "Then you're darn tootin' right I gotta help you out. If the Americans hadn't come here to New Guinea during the war, we'd all be speaking Japanese now and bowing to each other all day long like a bunch of silly marionettes."

"All right!" Brad couldn't help exclaiming, his face splitting into a big wide grin. "What time can we go? We're like totally in a hurry to get there."

Pocka checked his wrist watch. "How about in an hour? Go back to town and get some breakfast. Manders will show you where. Then I'll meet you on the pier at nine. I'll get you there hotfoot in a couple hours. We'll fly like the wind, chaps. Like the blimey wind."

Little did the boys know how true his words would be!

Manders walked them back to town and deposited them at a small European-style hotel where the restaurant was just opening. While the boys awaited their order, the official took out a small notebook and pen from his pocket and took some statements from them about the pirate attack and attempted murder. He agreed to take care of the weapons and motorboat for them, obviously stolen pirate loot. When their food was served the magistrate bid them good luck and left the boys to their breakfast, which they ravenously enjoyed after their long night's journey on the water.

At nine sharp the boys were back on the pier and, as Clint went to retrieve the backpacks from the motorboat, Brad and Jimmy watched Pocka get his Dragon ready for flight. Soon it was fueled and the engine was ticking and the twin propellers whirling. Brad and Jimmy climbed down the ladder to the bottom wing and then up into the plane. There were four rows of double seats behind the solo-seat cockpit, and they took seats behind the pilot.

Pocka was now wearing a colorful tropical shirt and pilot goggles. He turned to give Brad and Jimmy a nod and a thumb-up sign as Clint untied the moorings outside and shoved the plane away from the dock.

"Hey, Pocka," he asked, after he had climbed into the cabin and taken a seat behind Brad. "What are you wearing goggles for? Your cockpit isn't outside like on the old-fashioned planes."

As they fastened their seat belts, Pocka looked back with a wolfish grin. Brad thought he looked like a big bug in a flower garden with his bushy hair and big round goggles atop the colorful flower-patterned shirt.

"I gotta look cool for the ladies," he rapped. "And some of the boys, too, if you know what I mean. When I walk around Rabaul Town dressed like this, the Marys and Joes all come over squealin'."

Brad knew exactly what he meant, and he was happy to see Clint smiling at the man instead of scowling. Then Pocka looked ahead through his windshield and shouted, "Chins up, chaps! Time to put the ol' iron up our backs."

The Dragon shot ahead with such a sudden thrust of power that the boys were pressed back hard against their seats. Brad's mouth fell open as the plane's upper wing missed the rusty tanker moored next to it only by inches. His hands gripped the arms of the seat and his eyes bulged as the plane shot out into the lagoon and Pocka let out a wild "Yahoo!" and pointed the craft at the reef.

"Hey, you'll crash right onto that coral reef," Clint was saying at the same time Brad was shouting, "Jeez, man!", and Jimmy cried out, "Yow! Where ya goin'?"

Pocka guffawed as he horsed back the yoke. "Up, brutha blue eyes! Up, up, and awaaaaaay."

The Dragon lifted in such an unexpected sharp steep climb that the thrust almost dropped the boys' stomachs right out of them. Brad had never experienced such a quick sudden take-off and all he could do was look ahead out the windshield at the blue sky above that they were screaming up into.

"For cryin' out loud," he grunted. "This is like a rocket to the fuckin' moon."

Clint snorted, his blood leaping in his veins. "When they actually do send one up there, it won't even go this fast!"

Jimmy sat open-mouthed, gripping the arm rests. "If you keep this up, that breakfast I just ate will be all over this cabin!"

"Thought I'd hit the reef, didn't ya, eh?" Pocka's voice slapped out. "This sweetie-pie can take off on a dime. If you know how to do it, that is. Whammo! Right up into the pretty blue. Howzabout it, you blokes?"

The airplane leveled off and Brad felt a moment's relief as the pressure eased. But the next thing he knew, the Dragon went into a straight-line rollover and he and Clint and Jimmy were all shouting:

"Whoa ... oa ... oa ... oa!"

"Yow! Fuck! You're killin' me!"

"Aaaarrghh! Aaaiiiieeee ...."

Pocka Poco was chuckling and hooting away and he banged happily on the instrument panel as he leveled the plane. "And you boys thought the pirates were somethin', eh? Five makes you ten you'll remember this better."

And with that, the Dragon went into a sudden downward spiral, spinning and spinning as it headed straight down toward the blue waters. Gritting his teeth, Brad could feel zero gravity as the plane plunged and spun around and around as he and Clint and Jimmy were yelling:

"Stop it, man! Stop it. Damn it!"

"Yo-o-o-o-o-o! If I get my hands on you, buster ...."

"Yow! We're gonna hit that water, you ... you ...!

But Pocka pulled back the Dragon and leveled her off at what looked to Brad like five feet above the water, and then shot ahead seeming almost to touch the pristine blueness of it.

His heart was banging. "How the fuck can you do that with those big floats on the plane?"

"Skill. Total skill, chum," the pilot chuckled, and he pulled back on the yoke, heading the plane skyward again.

Jimmy was groaning. "That's enough to make me want to jump out and swim back to shore."

"C'mon, don't let it beat your ears down," Pocka jeered. "I was just sayin' goodbye to my neighbors on the island. They've grown to expect some kind of antics from me."

"Talk about beating ears down," Clint whispered to Brad. "Wait till I get him on some solid ground."

"You don't do that every time you leave with passengers, do you?" Brad asked in astonishment.

"Nah, nobody'd fly with me." Pocka turned to look at them. "I'm hip, boys. That scares the shit outta people. I just figured you Joes would like it."

The three boys exchanged glances. Brad rolled his eyes. Clint grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Jimmy made a sour expression and grunted.

"You could've warned us first," he said, managing an ornery smile. "If you're gonna do any more stunts, let us know beforehand. Jeez!"

Then Brad and Clint and Jimmy all looked at each other and burst out laughing, but hooting even louder was Pocka, and a couple times he banged on his instrument panel for effect.

The boys knew that he was right. They would definitely remember Pocka and his Dragon way better than the pirates.

But the rest of the flight to Rabaul went without event, and the boys stomachs and heartbeats soon settled down.

The Dragon flew as smooth and steady as an albatross as the boys gazed out the side windows at the scenery below. The Solomon Sea stretched starboard to the east as far as the eye could see, blue and endless in the glare of the tropical sun. Port side was New Britain, relentless jungle and mighty mountain peaks. Brad knew it was a land of eerie mystery to the outside world, but merely plain old home to natives like Jimmy and Pocka.

The pilot from Meena Town gave them a running commentary about the coastline and rapped out stories about his flying experiences during the war. "That's how I learned daredevil stunts," he explained. "You had to be a pretty clever pilot to keep away from those Jap kamikaze pilots."

He told them that he'd bought the Dragon from the New Zealand Air Force after the war, and he was one of the first practicing bush pilots in modern New Guinea. Brad was impressed with the man's skill in the cockpit, but he had no desire himself to learn daredevil stunt flying.

At length, another large island came into view starboard, all dense green jungle and high mountain ranges. It was New Ireland, Pocka told them, another province of New Guinea, and they flew up the St. George's Channel which separated it from New Britain. This eventually opened into the Bismarck Sea, an area of the south Pacific which was dotted with hundreds of smaller islands. Brad knew that one of them, hoped that one of them, was their destination Palua Pae.

On the Gazelle Peninsula, at the very tip of New Britain as it opened to the Bismarck, lay the city of Rabaul. The first sight of its incredible Simpson Harbor from the sky was thrilling.

"Hey, check it out!" Clint pointed out the port side window. "Whoa! Lookit! It doesn't look real."

Brad peered through the glass. "Volcanoes! Man, there's two, no four, no five of them. Fuck! And all smokin' like crazy."

"It's a caldera." Pocka banked the plane so they'd get a better view. "A bowl-like ring of volcanoes wrapping around the harbor. They say there's no other place like it in the world."

The beautiful harbor was indeed shaped like a bowl, surrounded on three-quarters of its perimeter by mountains and five active volcanoes spewing out clouds of ash high into the sky.

"That's Vulcan," Jimmy said, pointing out the window. "There, on the southwestern edge of the harbor. And the big one on the other side, northeast there, that's Tavurver. They're the biggest and most dangerous of the volcanoes, blowing all the time.

"Vulcan used to be an island," he went on, "but about ten years ago it blew its top and grew into a mountain from the ash and rock it spewed up. The fallout destroyed the town, buried it. But the people came back and rebuilt it. How could they stay away from such a beautiful place, eh?"

"They'll always come back to Rabaul Town," Pocka agreed. "It could happen again and again and the people will always return. There's no other paradise like it."

Brad totally agreed. He'd never seen such a beautiful sight as the jungle island harbor below surrounded with smoking volcanoes. It was a perfect circle of deep blue waters, dazzling in the sunlight, a sight worth coming all this way just to see. On the beach in the center was the town, and behind it the jungle easing up in waves of green darkness to the thick dense highlands beyond.

The sight gripped him strongly and he felt a sudden pang in his chest, a knife-like stab of fear. Would they find his dad and Dr. Pullman here, and maybe Professor Hyde-Morton too? If not, would they at least unearth a clue to help them on their quest?

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Here was one of the true beauty spots of the world, glorious under the blazing tropical sun, but it was only the ugliness of evil that stalked behind him and his companions, and almost certainly awaited ahead ...

PHOTO - Tavurver, blowing its top

**

Thanks for reading, everyone, and all the votes and comments. The reader reaction to this book has been awesome and I can promise plenty more thrills and chills to come.

NEXT! The boys learn the strange legend of The Madman of Coastwatchers Hill!