"Suppose you guys let your hair down," he said slowly, "and tell me just where you think you're going? I know it isn't Banggai. "
Romberg's lips tightened, and he glanced at Kessler. "Unfortunately, Captain Mayo, our plans have gone somewhat awry. However, it is true we don't have any great desire to land at Banggai. We intended to see the cargo was taken to Tembau."
"My deal says Banggai," Ponga Jim said sharply. "And to Banggai we go."
Romberg cleared his throat. "Captain Mayo, I know something of shipping conditions in these waters now and how difficult it is to keep busy. Suppose I offered you a bonus to carry us to Tembau."
Jim shrugged. "You know my terms: cash first. It'll cost you five thousand. If I don't get it, you go to Banggai and you can deal with the native rajah there." He grinned. "However, he has no love for Germans and is very pro-British."
Romberg hesitated, but Ponga Jim had seen triumph leap into his eyes.
"All right, Captain Mayo," Romberg said. "I'll see you in the salon at dinner. It will take all my available funds and those of my friends. But we'll manage."
On the impulse of the moment, Jim stepped into the radio room when he went forward.
Picking up a pencil, he wrote rapidly.
"Tear that up after you send it, Sparks," he ordered. "And stand by."
It read:
WILLIAM GIRARD, HOTEL KONINGSPLEIN, MAKASSAR, CELEBES, N. E. I.
DESTINATION TEMBAU. OUT OF THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE.
MAYO.
The Semiramis pushed her bows into the seas, rolling easily on a changed course. Tembau lay on the edge of the Greyhound Strait. There was one anchorage, Ponga Jim Mayo was remembering.
It was one he had never seen, but it had become almost a legend in the islands. Tukoh Bay wasn't a nice place, for it had become a resort for all the renegades in the islands. But if it was Tukoh Bay they wanted, to Tukoh Bay they would go.
Tupa was in the crow's nest when the Semiramis slipped through the outlying reefs to Tembau. The island lifted itself high out of the water, and from the sea there was no evidence of the village at Tukoh Bay. Slug Brophy came up to the bridge. He had two guns strapped on. Gunner Millan was standing by on the poop deck with several of the crew.
Slowly the old tramp wallowed into Tukoh Bay, and Jim Mayo gave the word to let go forward. A few minutes later, the three Germans went over the side into a native sampan and were taken ashore. Lighters came alongside, and with them, Kessler and Braunig to superintend the discharge of their cargo.
When the last sling was going over the side with its cases, Romberg came aboard.
"Well, Captain, you promised delivery, and here we are. I want to thank you for a pleasant voyage. But as the tide is out, you won't be leaving before daybreak. Perhaps I'll see you before then."
Daybreak! Ponga Jim felt himself turn cold inside. Night in Tukoh Bay? That was something he'd overlooked. The town was full of cutthroats ready for anything that promised payment. He watched the three men go ashore and saw the lighters pull away.
Red Hanlon, the chief engineer, came up from below, wiping his hands. Jim motioned to him.
"Listen, Red, I want you to keep steam up all night. We can't get out of here until daybreak. And with that crowd ashore, anything may happen.
"Tell Slug and the Gunner I want to see them in my cabin, Li, and quick!" Jim ordered the steward.
In a bungalow built back under the trees behind the little village of Tukoh Bay, the three Germans sat together. Behind a low table was another chair, and the man who sat there was thin and bald. He looked old, yet when he moved it was with a grace that proved him much younger than he appeared. His features were narrow, hawklike.
A big man, powerfully built, lay on a divan nearby.
The man behind the table shuffled some papers on his desk. "How many men does he have?" he demanded harshly. "Twenty-five in all," Romberg said. "The steward is a Chinese and can be discounted."
The man behind the desk stared at Romberg coldly. "A Chinese? Discounted? That was what the Japanese thought. Let us not make the same mistake." He paused. "Armament?"
Romberg hesitated. "I'm not sure. Each of the officers is armed. I believe they have two rifles for game, and a shotgun." "You needn't worry, Herr Heittn," the big man on the divan said. "I've heard a lot of this Ponga Jim Mayo, and those boys of mine would like to take him."
"Don't forget, Petrel," Heittn replied drily, "that a submarine has failed, that this man almost single-handedly captured a ship and destroyed a sub. This man is not to be trifled with. No doubt," he said, glancing at the discoloration on Braunig's eye, "our friend could tell us a little about him."
Heittn glanced from one to the other. "We must not fail this time. The boat must be seized, the crew destroyed."
It was dark in the cabin when Li entered, but he flashed no light. "Captain Mayo?" he whispered. "They come now." Silently, Ponga Jim got up and strapped on his guns.
Then he took down the rifle. By the chronometer, which he struck a match to check, it was almost three in the morning. Another hour and it would be turning gray. He picked up the automatic rifle and walked to the bridge.
Brophy was leaning on the bulwark looking over the dodger. It was pitch dark, but not far out there was a larger blob on the water.
"Tupa in the crow's nest?" Mayo asked.
Brophy nodded. "Yeah, everybody's at his station. What you going to do, Skipper?
Hoist 'em aboard with the winches?" "Wait and see. I'm going to give those boys a bellyful of war. "
"I hope you know what you're doing. There's more than two hundred men out there.
Selim slipped ashore, and he says they're armed to the whiskers."
The boats were nearer now. Ponga Jim walked back slowly to the wheelhouse.
"All right, Sparks," he commanded. "Lights!"
Suddenly the sea flashed into white brilliance under the rays of three great searchlights, and almost at the same instant, the whistle blew the fire drill signal. Hoses were strung out and connected. The boats swung alongside, and the attackers began swarming up the side.
"Steam!" Jim roared, firing a blast into the nearest boat.
In almost the same instant, a roar of steam belched from the fire hoses, full into the faces of the men swarming up the sides and clinging to the rail of the Semiramis!
One gigantic half-caste took the blast full in the face at scarcely a yard. His face vanished as if by magic, and screaming horribly, the man let go of the rail and tumbled back into the water.
It was all over in an instant. Screaming in agony, the attackers leaped into the sea. From the bridge, Ponga Jim waited, watching.
Unnoticed, a motor launch had slipped in close to the bow, and suddenly, there was a yell from forward. Ponga Jim spun around, firing as he turned. His shot knocked the gun from the hands of a big Swede he recognized as Hankins.
Then, with a rush, the group swept aft. Two of his own men went down. The others, caught from behind, rushed for shelter aft, unable to handle the hoses effectually without endangering others of the crew. The major attack was broken, but now, with dawn breaking and safety in sight, defeat swept down upon them behind a hail of lead.
Jim ran down the ladder, and whirled at the foot of it to find himself face to face with Braunig.
The big German had rushed forward from the after part of the ship, and for an instant Jim failed to appreciate what it might mean. The German jerked up his gun and fired.
Mayo dropped into a crouch, hammering a stream of slugs at Braunig. The first shot struck the man in the chest, but by some superhuman burst of strength he lunged forward, firing again.
A terrific blow slammed Mayo on the head, and he spun halfway around, but not before seeing Braunig topple over on his face, dead.
Romberg was nowhere in sight, but the battle had divided itself suddenly into a series of individual scraps. Kessler, leaping from the body of a Malay fireman, his knife red with blood, turned to see Ponga Jim c
oming toward him. Kessler hurled the knife, but he missed. Then Jim leaped in a flying tackle, and they crashed to the hatch, rolling over and over.
Jim came up on top and leaped free. The German jumped up and landed a left that knocked Jim back on his heels. Kessler let go with another, but Mayo grappled with him and hurled the man back against a winch. As Kessler came at him, Mayo caught him with a short left hook that cracked against the German's chin with a pop like the report of a pistol. Kessler toppled forward, unconscious.
Grabbing up his fallen gun, Ponga Jim ran aft. In the passageway he stumbled over a body. And on number four hatch was another, but the battle seemed to have centered forward. And Jim Mayo could only recall that Braunig had come forward. What could he have done aft? And how did he get there?
Suddenly, a shrill scream of horror sounded from the poop deck, and Mayo reached the stern in two bounds, just in time to see Li come staggering out of the passageway, screaming with fear.
The Chinese steward staggered over a chock and fell headlong just as Jim leaped through the door. He stopped, dead still, feet spread wide.
Not six feet away, the huge orangutan was standing, its bloodshot eyes burning with hate. Its hands, arms, and face were stained with blood, and at its feet lay what was left of Romberg, a horror only to be recognized by the clothing. Then the ape sprang!
Mayo's gun jerked up, and the trigger slammed on an empty chamber. Quickly, Jim dropped the gun and hurled his closed fist at the creature's body. It landed solidly, and the beast gave a queer, gasping cry. Then one hand slapped across Jim's face, knocking him against the bulkhead. The ape sprang, ripping the shirt from his shoulders. But Mayo swung aside, and then leaped, swinging a barrage of blows that knocked the big ape head over heels.
Slowly, the orangutan crawled to its feet. The murderous fury still blazed in its eyes, but it was wary now. This was a different mode of attack, something new. Suddenly, it grabbed the pipes overhead and hurled itself bodily through the air, feet first!
Jim tried to duck, but those feet struck him full in the chest and he turned a complete somersault, sprawling on the deck outside, gasping for breath. The ape sprang at him, snarling and screaming; but Jim rolled over and caught the animal with a vicious kick as it leaped toward him. It toppled back, and Jim smashed a right to the face.
The orangutan dropped to the deck and began to whimper. Cautiously, Jim got to his feet, and prodded the ape below and into its cage. Then he snapped the lock that Romberg had unfastened. Somehow, the big ape had got to him before he could escape.
Trained to hate men and to kill, the beast had acted violently.
Ponga Jim Mayo staggered back to the deck. There were no sounds of fighting now, but when he raised his head he saw a seaplane at anchor nearby. He went toward it.
Major Arnold was leaning against the deckhouse amidships lighting a cigarette. He lifted an eyebrow as he saw how battered Jim was.
"Fighting again?" he asked wearily. "Such brutality! Tsk, tsk, tsk!"
Ponga Jim looked very astonished.
"Me? Fighting? I've done more battling in the last few days than the whole Allied army has done since the war started!" Arnold nodded. "We got Kessler. What happened to Romberg and Braunig?"
Ponga Jim told him briefly.
"The worst one got away," the major said. "Heittn, his name was. We've been trying to get him for months."
"Have a drink?" Jim invited.
The major nodded. "What were they carrying in those cases, Jim?"
"Ammunition and guns," Jim replied. "It'd have been chaos for us if they'd distributed them. I wasn't certain of their cargo until we reached Tembau. Then I knew."
"Well, here's how," said the major, downing his drink. Then, "Who-o-o-o! What was in that glass?"
"My own concoction. I call it a Barata Sling." "Gad!" breathed Major Arnold. "What action!"
"Action?" said Ponga Jim Mayo, laughing. "You mean reaction. Wait until you try to get up!"
*
AUTHOR'S NOTE
QASAVARA
A cannibal spirit and the enemy and rival of Qat, who was the hero-creator of mankind, Qasavara and his House figure in many of the adventure-myths of the New Guinea-Melanesian island area.
Broken Water Bay, so named because of its tricky currents, lies just beyond Cape Wabusi, and near the cape is the mouth of the Sepik River, the largest river in northern New Guinea and one that reaches almost halfway across that island. The Sepik can be navigated up to three hundred miles by vessels drawing up to thirteen feet. Until one reaches Malu there is much lowland, some of it quite marshy, along the banks.
Crocodiles are plentiful. None that I glimpsed seemed to be shedding any tears.
Bam Island, mentioned in the story, was an active volcano. One of my youthful ambitions was to go up the Sepik, cross over the divide, and come down the Fly River. It was an ambition I never attempted to fulfill, which is just as well. The chances of making it at the time were slim, although it would have been interesting to try. It was one of those vague ideas that flutter through the mind of a very young man inclined to wander.
*
THE HOUSE OF QASAVARA
Ponga Jim Mayo looked toward the dark blotch of Bam Island.
"Easy does it," he said, his eyes swinging toward Cape Wabusi. "Port a little ... hold it!"
Quickly, Jim Mayo stepped to the Semiramis's engine-room telegraph and jerked it to stop. They had reached anchorage. "All right, Mr. Brophy," he called. "Let go forward!"
He stood in the wing of the bridge of the freighter waiting to hear the splash of the anchor. Then he turned and went down the ladder.
Carol Sutherland got up quickly when he came into the ship's salon. His white-topped cap was at a jaunty angle, but she thought that without the gleam of humor that was never far from his eyes his bronzed face would have been a little grim. He had a fighter's jaw, and his broad, powerful shoulders tapering to a slim waist and narrow hips completed the picture.
"Are we there?" she asked. "Is this Broken Water Bay?" Ponga Jim nodded. In the glow of the light her red-gold hair was like a flame.
"Yes, this is it. But you can't go ashore tonight. It will be bad enough in the daytime."
"But my father's here, and--
Her protest ended as he lifted a hand. The throb of engines down below had ceased, but there was another sound, the low, pulsing beat of drums rolling down from the dark, jungle-clad hills. She stopped, her mouth partly opened to speak, while the sound of the drums filled the room and seemed to pound with the same rhythm as the blood in her veins.
"Hear that?" he asked gravely. "Gets you, doesn't it?" He waited for a moment, listening.
"And those fellows are headhunters or cannibals, Stone Age men living in a land that time forgot. Think of it," he said, waving a hand toward the lonely New Guinea shore.
"Most of them have never seen a white man; thousands of them don't know there is such a thing. This is the jungle, Miss Sutherland, jungle as you'll never see it in Africa anymore.
"Back there is a people living in grass huts, using poisoned arrows with barbed heads, painting the skulls of their victims in weird, unbelievable designs. They aren't a proud, noble race like the Polynesians, but people to whom killing is the natural thing. And this is a lonely coast, where few ships come."
"My father is here somewhere, Captain Mayo," she said simply. "I must go to him."
He shrugged. "Okay, lady. If he's ashore, we'll find him tomorrow. No boat leaves this ship before daybreak, I value my men too highly. Those boys ashore are stirred up. This whole country is throbbing with hate. There have been fiftythree natives who worked for white men killed within the past two weeks."
Jim walked into his cabin, and when he returned he wore a gun in his shoulder holster.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I can't figure what Colonel Sutherland would be doing on this coast. This Broken Water Bay is an unhealthy country in more ways than one, and certainly no spot for a plantation.
"
"But I know he came here," she protested. "I heard him mention the bay to this man who came to see him before he left. That man was coming, too. They were to land near the mouth of a small river, and I believe they were going to a village close by."
"That's impossible," he said decidedly. "There isn't any village near here. Those drums are fifteen miles from here at least. "
"But I heard them talk about looking for someone, about finding the House of Qasavara."
"The House of Qasavara!" Ponga Jim stuck his thumbs in his belt. "Say, are you kidding me?"
"Why, no," she exclaimed in surprise. "I-"
But you told me your old man was looking for a plantation location near Broken Water Bay, and now you spring this here Qasavara business on me."
"What's strange about that?" she demanded. "I heard Daddy and this man talking about it, and supposed it was a native village nearby."
Jim tossed his cap on the table and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Listen, baby," he said, exasperated. "Qasavara is a cannibalspirit living back in that steamy jungle somewhere. The House of Qasavara is where he takes his victims, and where the natives offer sacrifices to him.
"Until a couple of months ago he'd almost been forgotten, then several bodies were found bitten by five poisonous teeth. One was found at Salamoa while we were there, another at Madang, a couple outside of Port Moresby, and one near the airport at Lae. Every one of them was a native employed by white men. Then last week twelve were found at one time, all of them marked by the five teeth of Qasavara."
"But what can all that have to do with Father?" Carol asked. "I don't understand."
Jim shrugged. "You've got me, lady." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, and then he looked up, meeting her eyes. "Didn't you tell me your father came from Sydney? That he worked for the government in some inspection service or something?"
"That's right. And about six weeks ago he received a letter from Port Moresby that worried him, and decided to come up here. I came with him, but stopped in Port Moresby."
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