by John Blaine
The Hindu boy jumped aboard as soon as they were tied up. “You early,” he greeted them.
“We could have been here last night, but we decided to take it easy and not risk running into vintas and things in the darkness,” Rick replied.
“It was a fine trip,” Scotty added. “We met some friends.”
“Friends?You meaning purposies ?”
“Porpoises,” Rick corrected.“Not exactly. He means pirates. They took some shots at us.”
Chahda’s wide eyes took in the bullet holes. He muttered to himself in Hindi.
“We were a little surprised,” Zircon added. “We’re not even sure they were especially after us. They might have been waiting for any craft that came along. We can’t imagine how they could communicate so rapidly, unless they had advance notice of our plans.”
Chahda shook his head.“Smarter than you think, these Moros. Sometimes use strange way to get letter far distances. I amazed.”
“What is this strange way?” Zircon asked.
“You know there plenty parrots here? Moros teach birds to talk,then tell message and say, ‘Okay bird.
You go now and tell Charlie.’”
Rick and Zircon stared at the Hindu boy incredulously, but Scotty had been the object of Chahda’s Page 34
humor often enough to recognize it first. He grabbed the lithe brown boy and held him out over the muddy harbor waters in spite of his struggles.
“Take it back!” he demanded.
“Istook !” Chahda yelled. He straightened his shirt as Scotty hauled him in again, and looked at the dark-haired boy accusingly.“That plenty good yarn. You just scooptical , that’s all.”
“Skeptical,” Rick corrected.
“Is so.Anyway, if parrots don’t fly, pigeons do. Sometimes my Indian friends use pigeons for messages to islands with no radios. So why not pirates?”
Why not? Rick thought Chahda very likely had the answer. Carrier pigeons would serve a useful purpose in a remote place like theSulu Sea , and one could have reached the channel from Zamboanga after they departed.
“Let’s go into the cabin,” Zircon suggested. The boys followed him and took seats on the bunks, waiting expectantly.
“Let’s start with Chahda. Learn anything?”
The Hindu boy nodded. “Little. Some peoples here think pirates took plenty boats now missing. Not many hear of pirates, but more than inDavao .”
“Any guesses on their hide-out?” Scotty asked.
“None good.Some say far to south, maybe near Tawi Tawi .Plenty small islands, no people.”
“I agree,” Zircon added. “I’ve studied the chart, and that seems to be the most likely area. We can go right on toBorneo , if need be. It’s only about a hundred and twenty-five miles from Jolo. It’s even possible the pirate hangout is off theBorneo coast.”
Rick spoke up. “I’ve been thinking about that pirate attack. Yesterday we got away through sheer speed, right? Well, word about our speed will spread. Now, we don’t want the pirates to give up because our boat is too fast for them. We want them to think they can attack us successfully, because the attacks are our best clue to whether or not we’re on the right track.”
He believed that no further attack would mean they were getting cold, while increasing attacks would mean they were getting warm, to use the old game terms. The closer to the pirate stronghold, the more determined the attacks would be, particularly if the pirates saw a chance of taking over the MTB.
Scotty saw what Rick had in mind. “You mean we have to convince them we’re no longer fast?”
“That’s it. There must be pirate spies here in Jolo. Why not plant a story that one engine is bad?”
“Very good!”Zircon exclaimed. “We could do it by trying, very publicly, to get some engine part. Which one, Scotty? It has to be one we won’t be able to get.”
Scotty thought it over while the others watched him anxiously, then suddenly he snapped his fingers.“Got it.A new timing gear. I’ll be surprised if there’s one nearer thanManila . I can juggle the spark, so the Page 35
engine sounds as though the timing were off. That will make it more convincing.”
Zircon rose. “We’ll do it. Chahda, you’ve seen the town. Can you stand by while the rest of us make a quick trip? We must see the constabulary, and I have a purchase to make.”
“Gladly do,” Chahda assented. “First I go and get suitcase. This time I stay with you until we find our friends.”
The Hindu boy got his luggage and a paper-wrapped package from the dock guard’s hut. Rick and the others left him to guard the Swift Arrow.
The main street of Jolo started only a few hundred feet from the dock area. Wooden stores and houses predominated, but there were a few of ancient stone. The people were almost entirely Moro, with only a sprinkling of Christian Filipinos. They saw no other Americans, although a few lived in the town.
“Wish we had more time here,” Zircon remarked. “After all, Jolo is the seat of Islam in this part of the world.”
“Of what?”Scotty asked.
“Islam is the proper name for the religion we called Mohammedanism. Moros are Moslems. The name is from the old Spanish for Moor. This island-my guidebook says-is the home of the Sultan of Sulu, the spiritual head of Islam in thePhilippines .”
Rick noted a strange pair of men making their way down the street. Their skins were brown, but their bushy hair was an odd orange red. They walked with knees bent sharply, as though on the verge of sitting down. Their legs were spindly, the knees prominent.
“ Bajaus,” Zircon said.“Sea gypsies. I recognize them from my talks with Tony. He was interested in studying them. They spend their entire lives in vintas, usually in a squatting position. That’s the reason for the odd posture. They have trouble standing upright. Their hair is that color because sun and salt have bleached it.”
A pair of Moros went by, carrying a bamboo pole from which a dozen small sharks were suspended by the gills. Rick saw that the fins had been cut off, probably bought by some Chinese for making soup.
There were shops everywhere. Zircon looked them over carefully. “Watch for a hardware store,” he requested.
They reached the constabulary office before finding a hardware store, however. Rick and Scotty decided to wait outside and enjoy the interesting street scene while Zircon checked in.
The boys noted that many Moros were armed, with krises or barongs in fancy sheaths. Some had small daggers with pistol-grip type handles tucked in their sashes. While Rick and Scotty watched, they were on the alert for possible enemies, but so many Moros eyed them curiously, it was hard to pick out any one of them as being suspicious. Just the same, both had the feeling of being tailed.
Zircon emerged shortly. “Lacson and Lim have both sent messages transmitting what details we have.
All detachments in the area have been alerted to watch for the Sampaguita . Now they’ll also be told to keep a lookout for pirates or information concerning them. Our report on the attack has gone toManila already. They wasted no time.”
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The Spindrifters resumed their hike up the main street and came upon a hard-goods store. Inside, Zircon finally succeeded in making his wants known. To the boys’ amazement, he bought ten dozen boxes of ordinary household tacks! He refused to tell them what the tacks were for.
“He’s going to nail down the facts,” Rick suggested.
Scotty shook his head.“Nope. He thinks we have a sailboat, and anyone knows sailboats have to tack into the wind.”
Zircon merely grinned and said nothing.
Visits to four ship supply stores followed. Zircon expressed amazement at the top of his voice that no timing gear was available. He bemoaned the loss of one engine unless the gear was forthcoming. He sounded pretty convincing.
“We’ve got it made,” Scotty said with satisfaction as the three walked back to the dock. “Did you know we have a tail? He’s good, too. I had trouble spotting him. You can bet he heard
the professor’s sad story, which means the vintas will know about our ‘bad engine.’”
The Swift Arrow was in sight now. Rick stared for a heartbeat,then broke into a run. “Come on!
Chahda’s fighting with someone!”
Rick had seen the Hindu boy dance into sight on the stern of the boat, then lunge behind the pilot house again, a long knife in his hand.
The three pounded down the dock and leaped aboard, then stopped short at the sight on the stern.
Chahda had suspended a large bunch of bananas from a convenient hook and was methodically slicing it to pieces with a long Moro knife in each hand.
Rick exploded, “What in the name of an Indian idiot are you doing?”
Chahda paused in his dancing attack to welcome them aboard with a grin. “I get in shape. You like my weapons?”
Rick and the others examined them with considerable interest. One was a barong, with a heavy blade about two feet long. The blade curved along the bottom, or cutting edge, but was nearly straight along the top, which was nearly a quarter of an inch thick. The second weapon was a kris, about the same length, but with two cutting edges, both of which were wavy in typical kris fashion. The kris was more swordlike
, but it was a cutting weapon not used for stabbing.
Chahda proceeded to give a demonstration, a blade in each hand. Rick was amazed to see that he used both hands equally well.
“Why all the sudden interest in weapons?” Rick asked.
Chahda sent the remainder of the bananas flying with one cut. “We go after scientists, yes? We find them, too. But, Rick, don’t think we get them back without one big fight!”
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CHAPTER X
South of Sulu
The Swift Arrow rounded the western end of Jolo and headed south toward the Tapul islands. On the south side of the group was theislandofSiasi where Zircon planned to top off the fuel tanks and check in with the constabulary again.
The four set up watches, two to a watch, four hours at a stretch. They settled down to a long search. At Siasi they would be at the center of the Sulu Archipelago, and would leave theSulu Sea behind and enter theCelebes Sea . The sun blazed down from nearly overhead atnoon until the caulking in the deck bubbled and the sea seemed to steam. They were less than six degrees above the Equator now.
Vintas dotted the waters close to the islands, but they were apparently peaceful Samal fishermen. There was no sign of a pirate fleet.
“I doubt that the pirates will bother us in these waters,” Zircon remarked. “Too close to islands with civilization on them. We can look for trouble in the more open waters to the south.”
“They bothered us close to Zamboanga,” Rick pointed out.
“True. However, I suspect it was simply a quick try at getting us before we were well under way. I’m rather flattered, as a matter of fact. Of course they know what we’re after. It was in theManila papers.
But they must realize we won’t quit until we find Tony and Howard, and they must be afraid well succeed. Otherwise, why attack us?”
Rick saw the sense of Zircon’s reasoning. “Then this mysterious island may not be hard to find, at least for anyone who’s really determined.”
“That’s my guess. Anyway, I think we may be attacked when we accidentally start toward their base.
And it will be an accident, since we have no clues.”
At Siasi the constabulary had no further information of value, except that the government was showing deep interest and concern about the pirates. The searchers topped off the fuel and water tanks, and anchored for the night in the protected harbor. At dawn they hauled anchor and rounded Siasi.
Zircon laid a course that took them south-southwest toward the KinapusanIslands and cautioned all hands to be on the alert. Bynoon they had crossed Taapan Passage.
Chahda and Rick were in the galley, cooking hamburgers for lunch. Chahda was explaining the technique of using the Moro blades.
“Must remember, knife is not just a thing.Is part of yourarm. Is sharp part that just makes armlonger.
You no swing knife. You swing arm, like trying to cut with end of finger. Okay?”
“I get it,” Rick agreed. “Don’t think of the knife as something separate. Think of it as part of your own body.”
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“Yes,” Chahda assented. “Next, balancing of knife is important. If is good, is like part of you. If is bad, can never be part of you.Moro knives well-balanced. You see . . .”
Chahda never got a chance to finish.
“All hands on deck!Pirates!” Scotty yelled.
Rick and Chahda piled out of the galley at top speed, Rick grabbing Shannon’s quiver from its hook as he passed. He quickly put the bow together and strung it, then swung the quiver to his back as he reached the deck.
Ahead was a line of vintas, already curving in an arc to trapthem. Rick glanced behind and saw that other Moro craft were closing in. They would be surrounded this time, unless they chose to give up their pretense of a crippled engine.
“Chahda!”Scotty called. “Take the wheel so I can use my rifle.”
The Hindu boy checked to be sure his knives were at hand,then took over from Scotty, who laid out extra clips and got ready to fire.
Zircon had extra clips for his pistol close at hand. He was watching the vintas through the long glass.
Rick put on his arm guard and finger protectors. Since the vintas were still out of bowshot he took a moment to beeswax his string. Then he took a small broadhead arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and drew a few times to unlimber his muscles, being careful not to let the string snap out of his fingers.
“What now?” he asked.
“We’ll go straight ahead,” Zircon answered.“Chahda, use nearly full speed on one engine. Have the second engine idling, but don’t use it unless we get into serious trouble. Notice that the vintas ahead of us are running before the wind? If we can get through the line we’ll have the weather gauge of them. In other words, they’ll have to tack with the wind against them. We’ll be able to get free easily on one engine.”
Scotty pointed to a gap between a vinta with a solid purple sail and one with blue-and-white stripes.
“There’s a hole to go through, Chahda.”
Rick saw that the vintas ahead were closing in. The Moro craft would be two deep by the time the MTB
reached them. He loosened his quiver and made sure the arrows were free. He might have to shoot pretty fast.
His senses were unnaturally alert. The water was bluer than blue and the small patches of fair-weather clouds seemed brilliantly white. The sails on the Moro craft were gaudy, their crews properly fierce and picturesque. He was detached from the reality of the scene, as though this were some movie he was watching.
Zircon brought him back to reality with a jolt. “Pick off the helmsmen first!”
Rick could hear yells now, as the Moros saw that the Swift Arrow was almost within reach. He ran to the foredeck and knelt on one knee, arrow nocked and ready. Scotty climbed to the top of the pilothouse andlay prone, rifle thrust out.
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The pirate yells were louder now, and some Moros brandished barongs or krises while others waved rifles. Rick suppressed a shudder.If the pirates got on board with those knives . . .
The pirate fleet opened fire. A slug whined off a ventilator cowl a foot from Rick’s head, but he forced himself to wait. It was still a little far for bow shooting. It was not too far for Scotty, however. Rick heard the sharp crack of his pal’s rifle, and saw a Moro helmsman slump over in the nearest vinta. The craft sheered off. Another Moro jumped to take the helmsman’s place and Scotty’s second shot splintered the rudder handle in his hands.
A vinta closed to within twenty yards, an easy bowshot. Rick mentally timed the rise and fall of the craft on the swell. Then, as it broached slightly, he had a clear shot at the helmsman. Kneeling, he drew swiftly and loosed. The shaft caught the Moro in the hollow of the shoulder and
pinned him back against the stern transom.
Rick reached for another arrow in the smooth rhythmShannon had taught him, but the rhythm was abruptly shattered by a sudden blast almost in his ear! He whirled swiftly to meet the new threat, just in time to see Zircon open the breech of the saluting cannon and extract a smoking shell.
For an instant Rick wondered if the scientist had taken leave of his senses. He saw Zircon ram home a blank cartridge and close the breech.
Then, suddenly, the action made sense to Rick. For Zircon upended the cannon muzzle and poured in a box of tacks!
The scientist depressed the muzzle, sighted calmly, and pulled the lanyard. A swath of tacks spewed into the bow of the nearest vinta bringing a chorus of pirate yells. The craft swerved away.
Shouting with delight at the scientist’s ingenuity, Rick jumped to Zircon’s side. Working together, they fired box after box of tacks, and saw the vintas slowly clear the way.
The Moros could face cold steel or hot lead without a qualm, but the fierce, stinging tacks were too much, and too unexpected. They failed to press the attack at the crucial moment and the Swift Arrow slipped through the line.
As Zircon had predicted, one engine gave them enough speed to get clear, once the Moros had lost the advantage of a favorable wind. Scotty fired a few more shots at the vintas within range,then dropped to the deck. The fight was over.
The four gathered in the pilothouse and the three boys stared at Zircon with mixed admiration and amusement.
“It’s nothing,” the big physicist said modestly. “You see, in my lifetime I have been an avid reader. At one time, while at the university, I read of some round-the-world traveler using tacks in a signal gun. So I disclaim originality.”
“My ‘ Worrold Alm-in-ack’ not saying about this,” Chahda said, grinning. “Is pretty lucky you have good memory for other books, Professor!”