The Pirate of the Pacific ds-5

by Kenneth Robeson

  The cockney did not glance again at the Hindu and the black man.

  The Hindu was Doc Savage. The black man was Renny. The cockney, he of the loud clothes and bad manners, was Ham — Ham, the one usually so immaculately clad and so debonair of manner. The disguises were perfect, a tribute to Doc's intensive study of the make-up art.

  Down on the promenade deck, a steward was confronting one of the steerage passengers who had wandered into territory reserved for those traveling first class.

  "You'll have to get back down where you belong!" growled the steward, showing scant politeness.

  Courtesy did not seem to be due such a character as the steerage passenger. The man was shabby, disheveled. In age he seemed to be less than thirty. But he looked like a fever-ridden tropical tramp. His skin was light in hue, and he was a pronounced blond.

  A close observer might have noted his eyes were unusually dark for one so fair-complected.

  This man was Juan Mindoro.

  Shortly afterward, Mindoro sought to reach the upper decks again. This time he succeeded. He made his way furtively to the royal suite, the finest aboard. This was occupied by Doc and Renny — otherwise the Hindu and his black servant.

  Mindoro unlocked the royal suite with a key Doc had furnished, entered, and wrote bnelly on the bathroom mirror with a bit of crayonlike substance he produced from a pocket. He wrote near the top.

  No stewards encountered the blowsy-looking tropical tramp as he returned to the steerage.

  Fifteen minutes after this incident, Ham also entered the royal suite and left a message written near the bottom of the mirror.

  The Malay Queen was some miles out to sea before the Hindu and his black man stalked with great dignity to their royal suite and locked themselves in.

  Doc turned the ultra-violet lamp on the bathroom mirror.

  Mindoro's message read:

  The steerage is full of half-castes Chinese,

  Japanese, Malays. And Mongols. But I have seen

  nothing to show Tom Too is aboard.

  * * *

  Ham's communication was:

  No sign of Monk, Long Tom, or Johnny. And how

  I hate these clothes!

  Renny snorted at the reflection of his own black face in the mirror. "Ham sure cuts a swath in his green hat and blood-colored shoes. I'll bet he breaks the mirror in his cabin so he can't see himself."

  Doc took off his turban. He had dyed his hair an extreme black.

  "Did you see any sign of Tom Too or his prisoners, Renny?"

  "Not a hair." Renny drew funnel-like flaring tubes from his nostrils.

  "They came from New York to San Francisco by plane, we know. We located the aircraft they had chartered. And the pilots told us they had three prisoners along."

  "The big point is — did they sail on the Malay Queen?"

  "We have no proof they did. But Monk's message indicated they intended to."

  Renny scowled at his sepia reflection in the mirror, apparently trying to see how fierce he could look. The result was a countenance utterly villainous, especially when he replaced the tubes which enlarged his nostrils.

  "Holy cow!" be grunted. "I wouldn't even know myself! I don't think Tom Too will recognize us, Doc. That gives us a few days in which to work. That's a long time."

  "We may need it. This Tom Too is as clever a devil as we've ever gone up against."

  They were not tong in learning just how true Doc's statement was.

  * * *

  HAM gave Doc Savage news of the first development. This occurred the following day.

  Ham furnished Doc his information in a rather curious fashion. He did it by smoking his vile cigar. He was seated at one end of the lounge. Doc was ostensibly reading a book at the other.

  Ham released short and long puffs of smoke from his lips. The short puffs were dots, the long ones dashes. Using them, Ham spelled out a sentence.

  Have you heard the talk going over the

  ship about the three maniacs confined to a

  stateroom on D deck?

  Tom Too or any of his men, were they in the lounge, would hardly have dreamed the silly-looking cockney was transmitting a message. And Tom Too might very well be present — quite a few Orientals were numbered among the first-class passengers sitting in the lounge.

  Doc shook a negative with his head, making it seem he was mentally disagreeing with something he had read in his book.

  The three madmen are in Stateroom Sixty-six.

  Ham continued his smoke transmission.

  Two Mongols are always on guard outside

  the cabin. That's all I've been able to find out.

  "And that's plenty," muttered Renny, who had also spelled out Ham's smoke words.

  Shortly after this the Hindu and his giant black servant retired to their royal suite.

  "That means they've got our buddies prisoners in the cabin!" Renny declared. "They've given out the word they're madmen to explain their keeping out of sight. Probably they're strapped in strait-jackets, and gagged, too."

  Doc nodded grimly. "You stay here, Renny. I'm going down and investigate — alone."

  For the first time, passengers on the Malay Queen saw the exotic-looking Hindu moving about without his black man. Several eyes followed him as he entered the elevator.

  "I wish to be let out on D deck," he told the elevator man, speaking the precise English of one to whom the tongue is not native.

  D deck, being the lowest on the ship, held the cheapest accommodations. The staterooms were not perfectly ventilated, and it was necessary to keep the ports of the outside cabins closed much of the time lest waves slosh in and cause damage.

  Cabin No.66 was far forward.

  Sure enough, two slant-eyed fellows lounged before the door. These were not half-castes, but of pure Mongol strain. Both of them looked fairly intelligent.

  Blank-eyed, they watched the robed Hindu approach. With each step the Hindu's rich sandals appeared under his robes. He came to a stop within arm reach of the two Mongols.

  What followed next was forever a mystery to the Mongol pair.

  Two sharp cracks sounded. Each man dropped.

  Doc had struck with both fists simultaneously, before either victim realized what he intended to do. Indeed, neither Mongol as much as saw Doc's white-swathed arms start their movement.

  The stateroom door was locked. Doc exerted pressure. The door caved in. Doc glided warily through.

  The stateroom was empty!

  Doc was not given long to digest this disappointing discovery. Two shots crashed in the passage outside. They came close together, deafening roars.

  Doc whipped over to a berth, scooped up a pillow, and flashed it briefly outside the door. More shots thundered. Bullets tore a cloud of feathers out of the pillow.

  With a gesture too quick for watching eyes to catch, Doc flicked a glass ball of anaesthetic into the passage.

  He held his breath a full four minutes — not a difficult task, considering Doc had practiced doing that very thing every day of his life since he had quitted the cradle.

  In the interim he heard excited shouts. Men ran up. But their shouts ceased and they fell unconscious as the gas got them.

  When he knew the anaesthetic vapor had become ineffective, Doc stepped out.

  Only stewards and ship officers lay senseless in the passage. Of the man who had fired the shots there was no sign.

  Both of the Mongols had bullet holes through their brains.

  For the moment no other observers were in sight. Doc hurried past the unconscious sailors and returned to the royal suite.

  Renny was disappointed when Doc appeared without their three friends.

  "What did you find?" he demanded.

  "That Tom Too is about as clever a snake as ever lived!" Doc replied grimly.

  "What'd he do?"

  "Spread a false story about three madmen being in the cabin just on the chance I was aboard. He figured that if I was, I'd investigat
e. Well, I accommodated him. And now he knows who I am."

  "A bad break!" Renny growled.

  "Tom Too is an utterly cold-blooded killer. He sacrificed two of his men, murdering them just so they would not fall into my hands. No doubt he feared they would be scared into betraying him."

  Renny jerked a cast of dental composition out of his mouth. It was this which had thickened his lips.

  "No need of us wearing these disguises any longer!" he declared.

  "No," Doc agreed. "They'd just make us that much easier to find. Ham and Mindoro are safe for the time being in their disguises, though."

  The two men busied themselves shedding their make-up.

  Remover used by theatrical players took the stain off their skin and hair. Doc peeled his throat scar off as though it were adhesive tape.

  "This puts us in a tough spot," Renny rumbled as they returned themselves to normal appearance. "They'll spare no effort to put us out of the way. And no telling how many of them are aboard."

  It was a vastly different-looking pair of men who stepped out of the royal suite. They were so changed an approaching deck steward did not recognize them.

  "Is the Hindu in?" questioned the steward. "I got a note for him."

  Doc plucked the note Out of the startled steward's fingers.

  It read:

  * * *

  There is an ancient saying about the straw that

  broke the back of the camel. Your next move will

  be the straw needed to break my patience.

  Your three friends are alive and well — as long as

  my patience remains intact.

  TOM TOO.

  * * *

  "The brass of the guy!" gritted Renny.

  "Who gave you this?" Doc demanded of the steward.

  "I dunno," muttered the flunky. "I was walkin' along, an it dropped at my feet. There was a five-dollar bill clipped to it, together with a note askin' me to deliver it. Somebody must

  'a' throwed it."

  Doc's golden eyes bored into those of the steward until he was convinced the man spoke the truth.

  "On what deck did that happen?"

  "On this one."

  Chapter 11

  PERIL LINER

  MORE questioning revealed that no one had been in sight when the steward looked around after having the note drop at his feet.

  The steward departed, perspiring a little. That night he didn't sleep well, what with dreaming of uncanny golden eyes which had seemed to suck the truth out of him like magnets, pulling at steel bars.

  In the royal suite, Renny made grim preparations. He donned a bullet-proof vest and harnessed two of Doc's compact machine guns under his arms, where they wouldn't bulge his coat too much.

  "Tom Too is not gonna set back and wait to see if we intend to lay off him," he rumbled wrathfully. "We've got to watch our step."

  "Not a bad idea," Doc agreed. "From now on we take no more meals in the dining saloon."

  "I hope we ain't gonna fast," grunted Renny, who was a heavy eater.

  "Concentrated rations are in our baggage."

  "Any chance of a prowler poisoning the stuff?"

  "Very little. It would be next to impossible to get into the containers without breaking the seals."

  Renny completed his grim preparations. He straightened his coat, then surveyed himself in the mirror. His garments had been tailored to conceal guns worn in under-arm holsters. The bullet-proof vest was inside, worn as an undergarment. Renny did not look like a walking fortress.

  "What are we going to do about Tom Too?" he asked.

  "We'll move slowly, for the time being. We don't want to get him excited enough to kill our pals," Doc said. "Our first move will be to consult the captain of the ship."

  They found Captain Hickman, commander of the Malay Queen, on his bridge.

  Captain Hickman was a short-legged man with a body that was nearly egg-shaped. Sea gales and blistering tropical suns had reddened his face until it looked as if it had been soaked in beet juice. His uniform was resplendent. with gold braid and brass buttons.

  Four nattily clad apprentice officers stood on the bridge, keeping watch over the instruments.

  The first mate strode sprucely back and forth, supervising the apprentices and the general operation of the liner.

  The first mate was somewhat of a fashion plate, his uniform being impeccable. He was a slender, pliant man with good shoulders and a thin-featured, not unhandsome face. His skin had a deeply tanned hue. His eyes were elevated a trifle at the outer corners, lending a suspicion some of his ancestors had been Orientals. This was not unusual, considering the Malay Queen plied the Orient trade.

  Doc introduced himself to Captain Hickman.

  "Savage — Savage — hm-m-m!" Captain Hickman murmured, stroking his red jaw. "Your name sounds very familiar, but I can't quite place it."

  The first mate came over, saying: "No doubt you saw this man's name in the newspapers, captain. Doc Savage conducted the mysterious submarine expedition to the arctic regions. The papers were full of it."

  "To be sure!" ejaculated Captain Hickman. Then he introduced the first mate. "This is Mr. Jong, my first officer."

  The impeccable first mate bowed, his polite smile increasing the Oriental aspect of his features to a marked degree.

  * * *

  DOC SAVAGE and Renny went into consultation with Captain Hickman in the latter's private sitting room.

  "We have reason to believe three of my friends are being held prisoner somewhere aboard this liner," Doc explained bluntly. "It is a human impossibility for two men, or even three or four, to search a boat this size. The captives could easily be shifted to a portion of the vessel which we had already searched, and we would be none the wiser. We therefore wish the aid of your crew, such of them as you trust implicitly."

  Captain Hickman rubbed his brow. He seemed too surprised for words.

  "It is extremely important the search be conducted with the utmost secrecy," Doc continued. "Any alarm will mean the death of my friends."

  "This is highly irregular!" the commander objected.

  "Possibly."

  "Have you any authority to command such a search?"

  The flaky gold in Doc's eyes began to take on a molten aspect, an indication of anger.

  "I had hoped you would cooperate freely in this matter." No wrath was apparent in his powerful voice.

  At this point a radio operator entered the cabin, saluted briskly, and presented Captain Hickman a message.

  The florid commander read it. His lips compressed; his eyes hardened.

  "No search of this ship will be made!" he snapped. "And you two men are under arrest!"

  Renny sprang to his feet, roaring: "What're you trying to pull on us?"

  "Calm down," Doc told him mildly. Then he asked Captain Hickman: "May I see that radiogram?"

  The skipper of the Malay Queen hesitated, then passed the wireless missive over. It read:

  CAPTAIN HICKMAN

  COMMANDER S S MALAY QUEEN

  SEARCH YOUR SHIP FOR MEN NAMED CLARK SAVAGE JR

  ALIAS DOC SAVAGE AND COLONEL JOHN RENWICK ALIAS

  RENNY RENWICK STOP ARREST BOTH AND HOLD STOP

  WANTED FOR MURDERING SEVERAL MONGOLIANS AND

  CHINESE IN NEW YORK CITY STOP SAN FRANCISCO

  POLICE DEPARTMENT

  * * *

  "Holy cow!" Renny thundered his pet expletive. "How did

  they know we were aboard?"

  "They didn't," Doc said grimly. "This is Tom Too's work. Call that radio operator in here, captain. We'll see if he really received such a message."

  "I'll do nothing of the sort!" snapped Captain Hickman. "You two are under arrest."

  With this statement the florid skipper wrenched open a drawer of his desk. He grasped a revolver reposing there.

  Doc's bronze hand floated out and came to rest on Captain Hickman's right elbow. Tightening, the corded bronze digits seemed to bury themselves
in the florid man's flesh.

  Captain Hickman's fingers splayed open and let the gun drop. He spat a stifled cry of pain.

  Renny scooped up the fallen weapon.

  Jong, the first mate, pitched into the sitting room, drawn by his skipper's cry. Renny let Jong look into the noisy end of the revolver, saying: "I wouldn't start anything, mister!"

  Doc released Captain Hickman's elbow. The skipper doubled over, whining with agony, nursing his hurt elbow against his egg of a stomach. At the same time he goggled at Doc's metallic hand, as ?though unable to believe human fingers could have hurt him so.

  Jong stood with hands half uplifted, saying nothing.

  "We'll go interview the radio operator," Doc declared.

  * * *

  THE radio installation on the Malay Queen consisted of a large lobby equipped with a counter, where messages were accepted, and two inner rooms holding enormous banks of apparatus.

  "The message was genuine, all right!" insisted the radio operator. He gave the call letters of the San Francisco station which had transmitted the missive.

  Seating himself at the semiautomatic "bug" which served in lieu of a sending key, Doc called the shore station and verified this fact.

  "Let's see your file of sent messages!" Doc directed the operator.

  A brief search turned up one which had been "marked off" as sent not more than twenty minutes ago. It was in code, the words meaningless.

  "Who filed this?"

  "I don't know," insisted the radio man. "I discovered it lying on the counter, together with the payment for transmission and a swell tip. Some one came in and left it without being observed."

  "This Tom Too must be half ghost!" Renny muttered. He still held the captain's revolver, although neither the skipper of the Malay Queen nor First Mate Jong were offering resistance.

  Doc studied the cipher message. It read:

  JOHN DUCK

  HOTEL KWANG SAN FRANCISCO

  DTOSS EARVR AAGSE IAHBR OOAFR ODIRDA

  * * *