Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

n BOY'S CINEMA ' READ THIS FIRST Boroff, creator of a deadly f^ompound known as disintegration gas and head of a ruthless organisation, has contracted to supply quantities of that gas to Morovania, a Central European power. Operating in America, he has fallen foul of the authorities there and is xoanted jor the murder of a young coastguardsman named Jim Kent. The latter's brother Terry, a lieutenant in the Coast Guard Service, has sivorn to track Boroff down, and possesses three firm friends loho are eager to help him. They are his fiancee Jean Norman, a reporter on a prominerit newspaper, her brother Dick Norman, a rising young scientist, and Snapper McGee, a Press photographer on the staff of the publication Jean represents. In the course of his investigations con- cerning Boroff's activities, Terry descends to a sunken steamer in diving-kit, and is examining the cargo of the wreck lohen he is attacked by Thorg, one of Boroff's henchmen. He defends himself grimly as Thorg tries to knife him, but during the struggle the life-line that carries the revenue officer's air-supply is hacked through.' Now Read On TOWARDS THE SURFACE WITH water entering the severed life- line and streaming down the in- side of his diving-helmet, and with Thorg endeavouring to biu'y that murderous knife in his body, Terry Kent was in a plight more desperate than any he had ever experienced throughout his adventurous career. Nevertheless he clung to Thorg's wrist determinedly and, formidable antagonist as the giant was, the Coast Guard lieutenant possessed a strength that was equal if not superior to the physical qualities with which Boroff's minion was endowed. He succeeded in preventing Thorg from driving home the blade, and meanwhile, though he himself was beginning to suffer from the pangs of suffocation, his massive opponent held no advantage over him on That account. Indeed, Thorg was worse off than he in that respect. For whereas Tern' had made the descent to the Carfax No-, rni'.or llh, !'i:'/i. RALPH BYRD AS TERRY KENT ■with the aid of a diving-helmet, Thorg had swum down to the wreck without any respiratory equipment and, balked in his intention of making a speecly end of the revenue officer, it was clear that he could not continue to hold his breath for any length of time. The struggle that was enacted down there in the after-hold of the sunken Carfax was therefore of brief duration. Within a few seconds of closing with TeiTy, Thorg had reached the limit of his endurance, and suddenly he dropped his knife and heaved himself backwards, tear- ■ ing his right wTist from the grip that the lieutenant had fastened upon it. Then he launched himself towards the hatch- way above, and, shooting up through the water, soared clear of the aperture in the deck and vanished from Terry's view. Terry on his part was still in dire straits, however He had saved himself from death by the cold steel of the weapon Thorg had wielded, but the imminent peril of death by drowning had yet to be overcome, and he knew only too well that long before he could gain the bosom of the sea his helmet would be filled to capacity with water. In fact, the water that had already found its way into the tight-fitting device had immersed his face from chin to mouth. It was now that Terry remembered the curious air-lock existing in that corner of the hold which was nearest to the vessel's stern, and he promptly struck out in the direction of that pocket of air, thankful that the special typ,e of helmet he was wearing had made it possible for him to dispense with rubber suit and weighted boots, and that he was consequently able to move freely. His head broke water a moment later, and he knew he had reached his objective —the air-lock under the quarter-deck. Next instant he clutched at a cross-beam with one hand, and with the other set to work in an attempt to discard his diving- helmet. EPISODE 8 :— The Crash Every Tuesday Vivid drama and high adventure surge through the pages of this pulsating serial story of the men who keep watch and ward on the American seaboard It was not easy to unfasten the con- traption, but he managed to rid himself of it after the lapse of a minute or two, and, flinging it from him, he hung on to the cross-beam for a little while—to repair the inroads made on his stamina by the ordeal he had sustained. Then, drawing in a deep breath, he slid back into the water and swam towards the hatchway of the hold. He speedily located the gap and ascended through it, propelling himself up from the wrecked steamship, and pre- sently he rose above the surface of the fog-infested sea to find himself in close proximity to the Coast Guard cutter from which he had lowered himself some time previously. His comrades were gathered at the star- board rail of the Government patrol-boat, and anxiety was written on their features, for the men had become aware of the sudden slackening of the life-line when it had been sundered and, guessing that something was far wrong, had pulled it in and discovered that it had been slashed through. Seeing Terry as he came up alongside the cutter, they raised a chorus of relieved exclamations, and in another moment a rope had been thrown to the officer. Nor ■was it long before he had been hauled aboard, and, joining his subordinates on the fore-deck of the Government craft, the lieutenant spoke to them hoarsely. "Any of you fellows see a big, ugly- looking guy swimming around here?" he wanted to know. The coastguardsmen under Terry's com- mand had seen nothing of Thorg. The latter had reached the surface off the cutter's port bow, and had quietly swum to the reef the Carfax had fouled a few nights ago—had crossed that reef and was now ensconced with Degado and the other two gangsters in the cabin-launch which was hidden on the lee side of the ridge of rock. Little did Terry and his men dream how close those rogues were, and, on account of the adverse weather conditions, Terry had no mind to engage in a search that he felt would be utterly fruitless. Thus he delayed only to provide his comrades with a brief account of the drama in which he had been involved down in the after-hold of the Carfax, and thci^, giving the order to put about and return to headquarters, he hurried to the cabin under the wheel- house. There he towelled himself briskly and donned his uniform again, and he was on the fore-deck of the cutter once more when the vessel glided alongside the pier at the Portland Coast Guard station. Jean Norman and Snapper McGec were on the quay, and as the Government patrol-boat was made fast and TeiTy disembarked from it they at once accosted him, eager for news. " You're back sooner than we expected," said Jean. "What happened? Did you investigate the Carfax?" "I sure did, Jean," Terry answered laconically, "and I tangled with that scar- faced thug who works for Boroff. But I'll tell you all about it later. Right now I've got to report to Commander Boyle." He hastened across the quay in the direction of the commander's quarters, and Jean and Snapper were left to await his return with what patience they could muster, fully half an hour dragging by ere he reappeared. Joining his fiancee and the cameraman again. Terry described to them in detail all that had occurred following his descent into the after-hold of the Carfax, and when he had brought his storj' to a conclusion Jean laid a nand on his arm. I