Only then did the boys become aware that the yacht was retracing her course in the vain effort to pick up her lost second mate. Later on that morning, when all hope had been given up, Bob and Mart sat in the wireless house and talked over the matter in sober earnest. As gladly as they could have suspected Birch, however, they agreed that there was no foul play involved.
“Your dad’s no fool,” declared Mart positively. “He sized up everything pretty square, and Swanson didn’t overlook anything either. Joe is sore at Jerry for something—prob’ly suspects him of being a pirate.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised myself,” asserted Bob. “Poor Liverpool! He was a fine chap, for all his rough ways. Still, there’s no doubt that Birch was innocent. I shouldn’t wonder if Liverpool got moonstruck and just pitched overboard. I’ve heard of that happening before, Mart. Look out—there’s old Jerry coming aft now.”
Sure enough, Mart looked out to see the slightly stooping figure of the old quartermaster coming aft to the wireless house. Jerry entered, ducked his head in silent greeting, and said nothing for some moments. After his pipe was filled, he looked out at the ocean, glittering in the morning sun, and then turned to glance solemnly at the two boys.
“Mystery o’ the sea, lads—wave after wave! Fish down below, lads, and us up above. Fish tell no tales, fish tell no tales! Poor Liverpool Peters, he’s—”
“Look here, Jerry,” exclaimed Mart, breaking in abruptly on the old man’s talk and forcing the bleary blue eyes to meet his. “I’d like to know just how much stock to take in your talk. How long is it since you and the rest of ’em were shipmates together aboard the Coralie, eh?”
Mart fully expected that Jerry would break out into vehement denial, and might even be surprised into making some admission. Bob, also, while no little astonished at his chum’s unexpected attack, nodded his support and craned forward as he watched the quartermaster.
But to their mutual disconcertion, old Jerry’s face did not change, save for a slight widening of his blue eyes as they met the hard gray ones of Mart. When he replied to the question, it was with a little chuckle as of inward amusement.
“Well, well! So you lads have heard about the old Coralie, hey? There ain’t many in these seas as haven’t, ’cause why, men are bound to talk. Only fish tell no tales, lads. Aye, the old Coralie was a sweet little schooner, she was! But that was all years ago—and now she’s lyin’ ninety fathom deep, lads, off the South Lyconia reef. Not very far from here, neither, where she went down.”
Mart sent a blank gaze at his chum, as Jerry replaced his pipe in his mouth and gazed calmly out at the ocean. This cool reception of his bomb was dismaying to say the least; but Bob came promptly to the rescue, and more successfully.
“Why do they call you Shark Smith, Jerry?” he asked carelessly.
This time the boys scored visibly. The quartermaster’s position did not change, but his bleared eyes suddenly flashed out quick and keen and bright, while his wrinkled old face lost its gently benignant expression as his firm mouth snapped shut on his pipe. This was not the first time the boys had seen that swift alteration of his features; and now it passed as quickly as it had passed before. Jerry turned slowly and looked at them, a slow smile crinkling up his eyes.
“Why, lads, ye main surprised me, ye did that! How come you to learn that old Jerry was called Shark Smith, now?”
“Oh, we heard about it,” laughed Mart carelessly. “What’s the reason, Jerry?”
The quartermaster chuckled again, tapped down his pipe, and replied frankly.
“Well, lads, I like both o’ you, so I’ll tell you. You mind me tellin’ you about that there Pirate Shark, one day?”
They answered his questioning look with a nod.
“Well, when we was in the old Coralie, tradin’ among the islands and doin’ a bit o’ pearl-fishin’ on the side, we met up wi’ that therePirate Shark. He nipped two of our men, he did, and I been chasing him ever since, lads. I’m goin’ to get him, an’ I’m goin’ to lay him out where he won’t kill no more men, lads. My mates know this and that’s why they call me Shark Smith, ’cause why I’ve been after that there PirateShark for a long time. Now I’m goin’ to get him this cruise.”
Mart’s eyes flashed suddenly. He thought he understood everything now.
“So that’s why you’ve got that dynamite aboard!” he cried accusingly. “You lied to Captain Hollinger about that river having gold, just to get—”
“Tut, tut, lad!” Under Jerry’s reproachful glance his words died away. “No, I told no lies, lad. That river has gold in it all right. I’m goin’ to get the Pirate Shark, and the cap’n gets the gold concession. Ain’t that fair, lads? Ain’t that fair, I asks you?”
Mart looked into the reproachful blue eyes an instant, then nodded. He suddenly felt ashamed of suspecting this gentle, half-crazy old man of any wrong. It lay plain before him now—the Pirate Shark had killed two of Jerry’s shipmates, years before, and ever since that time the old quartermaster had been pursuing his enemy, until it had become a fixed mania with him. After all, he did not blame old Jerry so very much, he thought.
Bob also was quite satisfied now, as appeared after Jerry had slouched away below again and the two boys talked over the matter.
“By juniper, Mart,” exclaimed Bob, “I guess dad was right. We were foolish to suspect old Jerry. He’s got a bug about killing that PirateShark, see?”
“Sure he has,” agreed Mart at once. “He’s a little bit touched in the head, Holly, but that’s about all. Did you notice that he never budged an eyelash when I shot out the Coralie at him?”
“Uh-huh,” nodded Bob thoughtfully. “So the Coralie was just a trading schooner among the islands, eh? That straightens out things pretty well, Mart. I s’pose she was a pretty tough craft, like most of ’em were in the old days, and prob’ly she did a little pirating on the side. But just as dad says, there aren’t any pirates any more. Especially on theSeamew. Believe me, we’ve been knocking at the wrong door.”
“Looks like it to me,” assented Mart. “Let’s just forget the whole thing, Holly, and call it square. I guess there’s no doubt that poor Liverpool fell overboard, either. But if Jerry got that dynamite put aboard to kill the Pirate Shark, I see where we’re going to have some fun, Holly!”
“Say, that’s right!” Bob sat up suddenly, looking at Mart. Then they both grinned.
“We’ll let your dad get off after his tigers, an’ when he gets back we’ll have some surprising news for him, eh?”
“You bet!” agreed Bob, chortling.
But if Mart had been able to look into the future, he would hardly have greeted the prospect with such unalloyed delight. For old Jerry Smith was not quite so crazy as he was credited with being.
CHAPTER VIII
KUALA BESUT
“Land ho!”
Early one morning the two magic words had thrilled the Seamew, and since breakfast the two boys had been perched on the upper bridge with their binoculars. They were different from the pair that had left San Francisco, weeks before; sun and salt wind had tanned them, self-confidence and energy had filled their hearts, and Mart in particular had gained an added air of resoluteness that became his strong features well.
And they had met with strange sights—unwieldy Chinese junks with matting sails, island trading schooners, slimmer craft containing natives, and even immense canoes which came from distant islands with fish and fruit to barter at sight of the yacht’s smoke.
But now Asia itself lay before them—and the most uncivilized part of Asia, which nevertheless was held by the flag of England. They had passed the Redang Islands, and were now standing in for the wide river mouth which denoted their goal, Kuala Besut. On the right lay a low, palm-grown island some two miles long, which Jerry Smith declared uninhabited, as it was often awash at the rainy season. Directly ahead of them, the harbor deepened in to meet the river, and to right and left the long lagoons slowly opened out.
“By juniper!” exclaimed Bob delightedly, as the captain and Jerry joined them. “Let’s you and me run over to that island some time, Mart! I’ll bet we’d pick up some great old shells there!”
“That you would, lads,” said the quartermaster, wagging his white hair in the breeze. “There be some fine shells hereabouts! Cap’n, we’d best not run up the river.”
“Looks pretty good sized to me,” returned Captain Hollinger, as he swept the harbor with his glasses. Although the river was still two miles away, they could see that it was large and apparently of good depth. “Had we better send out a boat to make soundings first, do you think?”
“No, sir—it ain’t that. It’s the natives, sir. They’ll be off in boats as soon as they see us slip our anchor over into the mud, and I’ll talk to ’em. They’ll remember me, ’cause why I’ve been in here before, trading.”
“Very well, then. You’d better go to the wheel.”
Jerry shuffled to the wheel house and took the steam steering-gear in hand, his blue eyes sweeping over their course. The shores ahead and on either hand were low and thickly overgrown, but rose into hill-slopes behind. All was a tangle of dark green jungle, and as the brown river opened out before them, the boys saw that it was very sluggish and appeared to merge its waters with those of the lagoon.
The lagoon proved to be curious in this respect, for to the northeast of the river mouth, on the starboard side of the yacht, it ran far up inside the island, and its waters were here distinctly sea-green, owing to the channels beyond the island. Where the yacht was, however, and to the south, the water was of a muddy brown color, proving that the river-current tended to empty toward the southward instead of diverging generally into the entire lagoon.
Captain Hollinger had barely pointed out this fact when Jerry ordered their speed slowed down, and turned their course to the northeast. TheSeamew slowly ran into the lagoon, turned inside the island, where the green water narrowed into a half-mile stretch, and there the engines were stopped. The anchor plunged over and the cable roared out, then a leadsman forward gave their soundings.
“Six fathom, sir!”
Captain Hollinger, who had the deck, went to the chart house for his sextant. It was just noon, and he wished to log their exact position. Mart gave Bob a meaning glance and the two boys went to the wheel house, where old Jerry was leaning on the idle wheel and gazing at the shore.
“Well, Jerry,” said Bob, “where’s the wreck of that old galleon, eh? The one where the Pirate Shark hangs out, I mean.”
Jerry chuckled, and pointed with his pipe to the northern end of the lagoon.
“Up there, lads, up there inside the channel beyond the end o’ the island. Eight fathom down, she is—down there among the rocks, and us up above. Fish tell no tales, lads, fish tell no tales! Old Jerry’s the only man who knows—”
“How soon will any boats come out?” asked Mart, who had resolved to bother no more about the Pirate Shark, as he had a shrewd notion that Jerry was not quite right in the head. “Will they bring fruit?”
“Aye, lads, plenty o’ that. But they’ll not be out for an hour or two yet, not they! Time for mess, lads—eight bells, time for mess!”
The captain got his sights, to be worked out later, and joined them. As he did so, Jerry made the request that he be given shore leave, as he might want to go ashore with any boats that came out. He had been here before on a trading trip, he said, and knew the natives in the village at the river mouth; so if he spent a day ashore he could arrange for their hunting trip and make firm friends of the Malays.
“Why, of course!” smiled Captain Hollinger, as they went down to mess. “You’re a guest as far as I’m concerned, Jerry, so do as you please.”
The old quartermaster nodded and no more was said on the subject. To the boys, it seemed that Jerry’s desire to go ashore was a good sign. Since he was willing to trust himself alone to the natives, it showed that on his previous visit he must have made friends with them. The boys had read and heard a good deal of how the more unscrupulous trading schooners treated the natives, and they perceived at once that Jerry’s previous visits must have been made in peace and good will.
Mart Judson, indeed, inclined strongly to the opinion that the white-haired old quartermaster was slightly “bughouse,” as he expressed it. As to the dynamite on board, he concluded that whether the PirateShark was an hallucination of the old man’s brain or not, the explosive might come in useful in their diving operations. He gave no credence whatever to the story of the wrecked galleon out in the lagoon “eight fathom down.”
What Bob thought in the matter did not appear, for although the freckled, blue-eyed chap seemed careless enough, in reality he was cautious in giving vent to any opinion whatever. He merely grunted in reply to Mart’s arguments, that afternoon, and waved a hand beyond the island, to the place Jerry had indicated.
“Six fathom here, Mart, and Jerry says it’s eight up there. There’s a channel to the sea, there, and rocks pointing up. The channel would be apt to cut it out deeper, and twelve feet makes a lot o’ difference.”
Beyond that he would say nothing at all, though indeed he got small chance, for a few moments later they made out two Malay fishing boats reaching out from the mouth of the river.
Behind them came others, approaching cautiously, and an hour later the yacht was surrounded by a dozen craft. All hands were on deck, but there was no need for any fears. When the leading boat approached cautiously, Jerry Smith stepped up on the rail, shouting something in a strange tongue, and without further hesitation the boat darted up to the ladder and gangway, which had been put over the side, with a large floating platform.
Contrary to the ideas which the boys had formed, the Malays looked anything but savages. They wore fez-like round caps, bright shirts, and sarongs or wrapped skirts of gay cloth, while all wore krisses of various patterns, and a few carried old flint-lock muskets.
“Tell them we’ll let only ten at a time on deck,” said Captain Hollinger to Jerry. Swanson was up forward, looking on with the men. Jerry repeated the order in Malay, and a moment later he was surrounded by a group of grinning, chattering, excited natives who plainly recognized him as an old friend.
Captain Hollinger had already ordered a case of trading goods broken out, and a few moments later the yacht was well supplied with bananas, pineapples, cocoanuts, rice and fresh fish. One of the Malays, who wore a resplendent sarong of crimson silk, Jerry introduced as the headman of the village; he was a rather dried-up looking man, but his face was intelligent and bright, and he shook hands all around in a hearty manner.
As Jerry was interpreting the captain’s address to him, Mart noticed that one of the men next to him wore a kris without any sheath. Glancing at the weapon, he drew Bob’s attention to it; the blade was flame-shaped, about three feet in length, and was inlaid with silver lines. Bob jerked the quartermaster’s arm and pointed at the kris.
“Ask him if he’ll sell it, Jerry!”
“Aye, lad, he’ll sell it right enough. I’ll ask him, and you get something he’d like—say, some kind o’ weapon.”
Bob darted off, returning with an old-fashioned Colt cap-revolver, which he had hanging on his stateroom wall as a souvenir. Mart laughed at sight of it, but to his surprise the Malay eagerly made the trade, and the kris was Bob’s. Captain Hollinger examined it with some interest, and promptly made an offer through Jerry for a dozen more of the weapons, to keep as souvenirs.
“Better let that wait, sir,” said the quartermaster. “It ain’t best to be in too much hurry, Cap’n. When you’ve gone ashore, after that there huntin’ trip, sir, then’s the time to trade for such stuff. Wait till they know as they’re goin’ to lose you, and you’ll get bargains.”
The wisdom of this was quite evident, so Captain Hollinger nodded. Then the quartermaster turned to the headman and spoke for some moments at length, after which he announced that he was going ashore and would return to report to the captain in the morning
. He said it would be necessary to consult men from other villages as to where tigers might be found, as well as to arrange for beaters and a party of hunters, but that all would be arranged that night or in the morning.
With this, Jerry went below, got some of his things together in a duffle-bag, and went over the ladder into the fishing-prau, with a farewell wave of the hand at the boys and his other shipmates. The Malays put out their long oars, shouted a farewell to which the crew responded with cheers, and the dozen boats swept back toward the river.
“Well, we’ve got a pretty good crew now!” laughed the captain looking around at the decks. Their duties being over for the time being, the engine-room crew had come on deck, fraternizing with their brother Kanakas, and everyone, from old Borden to Mart and Bob, was busy stowing away fresh fruit, of which the supply was bountiful.
The boys examined Bob’s silver-inlaid kris, with its carven handle of bone, and it was indeed a trophy worth carrying home. At mess that evening Bob’s father announced his desire to take Joe Swanson with him on his initial hunting-trip, at which the burly mate was no little astonished.
“Well,” he said, with a slow grin, “I’m not much on shootin’, Cap’n, but I’ll be mortal glad to stretch my legs ashore. Who’ll take charge o’ the ship?”
“Well,” smiled the captain, “I’ll leave the boys in charge, with Jerry. The quartermaster is capable, and he’s going to start diving operations up the river. I want to see what things are like in the jungle before I’ll take the boys hunting, as it’s apt to be pretty dangerous.”
“I dunno, sir,” and Swanson frowned, staring at his plate. “I’ve heard a good bit about Jerry, and I wouldn’t leave him—”
“Oh, nonsense!” Captain Hollinger laughed out, and the boys remembered the mate’s protest before the voyage began that Jerry was “unlucky.” “I’ve heard about his piratical tendencies, but don’t you worry, Mr. Swanson. He’s all right.”
The mate shrugged his shoulders heavily and said no more. That evening the boys proffered a request that they be set ashore on the island in the morning. Both were anxious to set foot on the sands, and to prowl about the place at their leisure, and as the island was clearly uninhabited, Captain Hollinger assented willingly. Mart decided to take the motion-picture machine along in order to try it out, and Bob later confided to him his intention to take along a rifle in case they saw anything to shoot at.
The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales Page 252