West from Singapore (Ss) (1987)

by L'amour, Louis

  He found a place secure from observation, slipped off his coat, and, taking a deep breath, drew the knife from the wound. It had gone into the muscle back of his ribs from front to back. He plugged the wound and then relaxed.

  Chapter VIII The Convoy Is Safe.

  It was the throb of engines that awakened Ponga Jim. Dimly he was conscious they had been going for some time. By the feel of the ship he knew they were in open water.

  Timing was important. The convoy's attempted destruction would begin it. Ponga Jim rolled back the sacks and stepped out into the storeroom. He glanced at his wristwatch.

  It was early yet.

  He went to the port and glanced out. The sea was calm, only white around the coral.

  The sun was hot and the air clear except for the dancing heat waves over the rocky shore.

  He looked again, and his hands gripped the rim of the port.

  He felt his heart give a great leap. They were nearing Gordon Reef in the Strait of Tiran! He saw the small, iron ship plainly visible on the rocks of the reef; the wreck had been there so long it was hardly noticed anymore.

  But today it meant more. Today, if all went well, a pocket submarine of a hundred tons would be lying there, waitingthe submarine he had captured in the Well of the Unholy Light, on Halmahera.

  He was watching, yet even then he could just barely see the ripple of foam when the sub's periscope lifted. In his ears he could hear words as though he were there himself.

  He could hear Jeff speaking to his one-man crew: "Fire one!" Then, after a few seconds, "Fire two!"

  Ponga Jim saw the white streak of a torpedo and heard someone sing out above; then he saw the second streak. The big warship was jarred with a terrific explosion and then a second or two later, with a second. A shell crashed in the water only dozens of feet from the tiny sub. But the periscope was gone now.

  Ponga Jim gripped his hands until the fingernails bit into his palms. How much damage had been done? Would Jeff and Hifty get away? Thank God the warship had no destroyer screen to pursue and drop depth bombs.

  There was shouting forward, and he could feel the ship slowing down. He set his jaw.

  Now it was up to him. Now he would do what he came for and end this scourge of the sea once and for all.

  He found a uniform in the pile of junk in the storeroom and crawled into it. Then he stepped out into the passage again. No one seemed to notice him. Men were running and shouting in the steel tunnel. He joined those hurrying men. He gathered that the first torpedo had hit right where he had wanted it to. From the stolen blueprint, which covered a section of the bow, he had known that the extreme bow and stern of the warship were but thinly armored. Elsewhere, twenty inches of steel protected the waterline. The second fish had wasted itself against that steel bulwark.

  As he dashed forward, a man passed him, and Ponga Jim saw a startled look come into the man's face. The fellow stopped, and Ponga Jim ducked into the passage leading down. A moment later he heard a man yelling, and swore viciously. To be discovered now!

  At a breakneck pace he went down the steel ladder. Water was pouring in through the side into one of the blisters below. Into two of them. He heard a petty officer assuring another that the damage was localized, that the Khamsin would be slowed a little, but was in no danger of sinking.

  Above them, Ponga Jim heard a shouted order. He ducked toward a steel door in the bulkhead. The petty officer shouted at him in German, but he plunged through. Then he stopped and placed the bottle of nitrogylcerine against the steel bulkhead.

  The door swung open again, and Ponga Jim flattened against the bulkhead. Men dashed through. On impulse, Ponga Jim stooped, caught up the bottle and sprang back through the door and then ran for the ladder. A man shouted and grabbed at him, but he swung viciously and knocked the man sprawling into a corner. Another man leaped at him with a spanner, and Ponga Jim scrambled up the ladder and then wheeled and hurled the bottle into the corner near the damaged side of the ship!

  There was a terrific blast of white flame, shot through with crimson. Ponga Jim felt himself seized as though by a giant hand and hurled against the wall. He went down with a jangle of bells in his head, and above him he could hear the roar of guns, the sound of shells bursting, and a fearful roaring in his head....

  Ponga Jim fought back to consciousness to find himself lying on some burst sacks.

  Struggling to get to his knees, he realized the deck was canted forward.

  There was blood all over him. He turned, and sickened at the sight that met his eyes.

  The deck was covered with blood, and a half dozen men lay around him, their bodies torn and bloody. He crawled to the wall, pulled himself up, and glanced down into the yawning chasm where he had thrown the nitro.

  The compartment was full of water, and it was still rising, slowly but surely. He started aft, feeling his way along the steel tunnel in the dark.

  His head throbbed, and something was wrong with one of his legs. He had an awful feeling that part of it was gone, but he struggled along, conscious of a steady burning in his side.

  The world was full of thunder, and he could hear the heavy crash of the mighty eighteen-inch guns above him. He was thankful he had stuffed his ears with cotton before starting this. He had known there would be a battle. But were they shelling the convoy? He fought his way to a port and, wiping the blood from his eyes, stared out.

  In a kind of madness he saw, across the world of smoke and flame, the ugly stern of the old Semiramis.

  Her rusty sides were scarred with red lead, but the three 5.9s that were aft were firing steadily.

  With a stretch of coral reef between the Semiramis and the warship, and the freighter itself almost out of sight in the deep, high-walled inlet where it had been concealed, she presented a small target and one that called for careful firing. It was too close for the big guns and in an awkward position for the smaller guns. Gunner Millan, he saw, was doing just what he had been told to do. All three of the 5.9s were aimed at one spot on the bow of the Khamsin and were pounding away remorselessly.

  But the Khamsin was not staying to fight. The convoy was still to be attacked, and crippled though the mystery battlewagon was, she had only to get out into the sea to bring those big eighteen-inch guns to bear on that convoy. She was injured, but proceeding as scheduled.

  Clinging to the port, Ponga Jim heard an ominous roaring. Then he saw a V-shaped formation of bombing planes. The first one dipped and then another, and then the warship was roar186 ing with exploding bombs. He turned from the port and started aft again.

  Dazed, he staggered from side to side of the tunnel. He had done what he could. What remained was for the navy to do. He staggered forward, saw a steel door in the hull, and fell to his knees, clawing at the dogs. He got one loose and then another.

  Suddenly there was a wild shout. A man was rushing toward him, his face twisted with fury. Nathan Demarest! He sprang at Ponga Jim Mayo, clawing for a knife. Mayo caught the dogs, pulled himself erect, and then stuck out his foot. Demarest was thrown off balance and went to his knees, but then he was up. Ponga Jim jerked another of the dogs loose and spun around, bracing himself for Demarest's charge.

  The man flung himself forward, and Mayo started a punch. It landed, but Demarest struck him in the chest with a shoulder. The door gave suddenly behind them, and both crashed through and fell, turning over and over, into the water!

  Vaguely, Ponga Jim was grateful for the warmth of the water and then for its coolness.

  He felt someone clawing at him, pushed him away, and then caught hold and kept pushing.

  Darkness swam nearer through the water, and he lost consciousness once more.

  When his eyes opened he stared up at a sort of net of steel, and when he tried to turn his head his neck was stiff as though he had taken a lot of punches. He tried to move, and someone said:

  "Take it easy, mister."

  He managed to get his head turned and saw a man in a British naval unifo
rm standing by.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "Everything's okay," the seaman said. "You're on the Markland, of Sydney. This is one of the convoy."

  The seaman stuck his head out the door. "Tell the old man this guy is coming out of it," he yelled.

  Almost at once a big, broad-shouldered man came through the door with a hand outstretched.

  "Mayo!" he exclaimed. "Sink me for a lubber if I didn't get a start when they brought you over the side. You and that black man of yours!"

  "What happened?" Ponga Jim asked. "How's the Semiramis?"

  "Huh, you couldn't sink that old barge!" the captain roared. "Sure as my name's Brennan, you can't! But she's lost the starboard wing of her bridge, two guns are out of commission, there's a hole through the after deckhouse, and about ten feet of taffrail are blown away, but no men killed. Some shrapnel wounds. The sub got back safe."

  The door pushed open, and Major Arnold came in.

  "Hi, Jim!" He gripped Mayo's hand, grinning. "You did it again, darn you!"

  "The Khamsin?"

  "Still afloat, but the navy's after her. They are fighting a running battle toward Bab el Mandeb. But she's down by the head and badly hurt. She'll never get away.

  Everything else is under control. We got Theron. Your boys wiped out Mullens and his gang when they tried to get Kernan and me. Had them covered before they started to open fire, and killed them all with automatics at close range. "

  Arnold turned toward the door.

  "General Kernan is here," he informed, "with Skelton. They want to see you. Skelton says he owes you an apology." "Yeah?" Ponga Jim lifted himself on an elbow. "Listen, you-"

  The door opened and General Kernan and Skelton came in. Skelton smiled.

  "Fine work, Captain! We'll see you get a decoration for this."

  Ponga Jim stared at him, his eyes cold. For an instant there was silence, and then Skelton's smile vanished, his eyes widened a little, and his muscles tensed.

  "William," Ponga Jim said carefully, "arrest this man. He is a traitor. He was working hand in glove with Theron, and I have documentary evidence to prove it!"

  "What?" Kernan roared. "Why, man, you're insane! You're" Skelton's eyes narrowed as he stared at Ponga Jim. Then he sprang back suddenly, and there was a gun in his hand.

  "No," he said tightly, "he's right! If he says he has the evidence, I believe him.

  Theron told me someone stole some papers. Of course it's true! I've made fools of you all! And if it hadn't been for this thick-skulled sailor with his fool's luck, I'd have won, too! And so would Theron. He's a great man, Theron is, a great man!

  Do you hear?" His voice rose to a scream and then cut off sharply. "All right! But you three will die, anyway. You three-"

  Big London's powerful black arm slipped through the door and around Skelton's throat.

  It tightened suddenly. The gun roared, and the bullet flattened against the bulkhead.

  Then London jerked, and there was an ominous crack. He dropped Skelton's body.

  "I didn't mean for to kill him, Captain," he said. "But his neck was so little!"

  "Who got me aboard here?" Jim said, ignoring the body. Arnold swallowed. "Big London.

  He was coming behind in the small boat with two others as you had suggested when you said you'd unload as soon as possible. He dived in after you." "Demarest?"

  "Was that who you were fighting with?" Arnold frowned. "I had been watching him.

  I had the dope on him, but before I could have him arrested, he slipped away." He hesitated. "By the way, when we flew down to join the convoy and see how this end was going, we brought somebody with us. She wants to see you."

  "She?" "Yes." Jim looked toward the voice. Zara Hammedan was standing in the door.

  "Are you surprised?"

  "Surprised?" Ponga Jim looked up at Arnold with a grin. "William, can't you see the lady wants to be alone with me?" Arnold gave a snort and turned toward the door.

  "And by the way, old chap," Ponga Jim added, "don't slam the door when you go out!"

  "That guy!" Arnold said sarcastically. "Shoot him, drop him over the side, and he comes up with a blonde under one arm, and a brunette under the other! What can you do with a guy like that?"