Tainted Treasure (China Marine)

by Buzz Harcus

  “No problem,” Doyle snapped holding his hands before him. “No problem. We were just leaving.” He jerked Bert to his feet hissing, “Keep your damned mouth shut!”

  With the help of Ace, they pushed him toward the door where they hurriedly left. Once again the room grew quiet in order to hear the artistry of Johnny Ford. His album was followed by the inimitable sounds of Harry Reser on his banjo.

  Osa sat quietly, although still upset at the rudeness of Bert Kilgrew. What an obnoxious jerk. Harry, too, had an uneasy feeling about Bert: he was definitely going to be trouble!

  CHAPTER 14

  Alward Still Warning About Pirates

  Morning found Nurad moving ever deeper into the South China Sea at a comfortable 14 knots. The sun had risen in the east brightening up the day, even putting Harry in better spirits. But thoughts of Bert‘s bad behavior still irked him.

  Ahead, toward the south-east a strong line of cumulous clouds were building on the horizon. Harry so noted to Third Officer, Alward. “Aye,” he said. “The barometer’s been steadily falling. I checked it when we first came on duty at 0400. I fear we’ll be in for a good blow late tonight.”

  Captain Andress stepped onto the bridge just before 0700. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said passing behind Harry. “Der boarder repulsion training vent vell yesterday according to Sigmund. Tank you, Harry.”

  He moved to the chart table, sifted through a rack of charts, and pulled one out. It was a large chart of the Philippine Islands. Laying it out on the chart table, he scanned the course ahead of them to Davao on Samar. Picking up a divider, he fixed the pin points to the edge of the chart markers for longitude and latitude, and began measuring the distance from their current position to the port of Davao.

  “At fourteen knots an hour, ve should be at Davao in four days,” he muttered to himself. Then he double-checked to make sure. “Yah,” he muttered again. “Four days.”

  “Beg pardon, sir,” Harry said, overhearing his comment. “Davao in four days?”

  “Yah. Four days.”

  Alward, who had been looking forward through the binoculars, had heard, too. “Four days,” he muttered under his breath. “Yeah.”

  “Keep on dis course,” Andress said to Alward. “Ve are making good time.”

  “Very good, sir,” Alward replied.

  “I’m off to breakfast,” the captain said heading out of the cabin. “I’ll be back.”

  “Four days,” Alward said to Harry. “Now the course gets tougher.”

  “Why so?” questioned Harry, glancing over at the Third Officer.

  “Like I said, pirates.” Sternness shown on his face. “Pirates.”

  “Oh, no! You’re on that kick again,” groaned Harry. “Look, I’ve seen a bit of increased traffic, more ships, but nothing that could be considered as potentially dangerous to us. Nothing that looks like a pirate ship.” He laughed at his remark.

  Alward didn’t laugh; he was deadly serious. “Pirates are sneaky, my friend. They’ll be on you before you’re aware of it. Believe me.” He looked forward through the binoculars. “I got a good look at your firepower yesterday. It’s good, but the modern pirates use any and all kinds of weapons, stealth and technology. They’re not stupid. They practice there trade. You’d be surprised.”

  Harry gave him a dour look. What would he know? “So, where did you live in the states?” he asked changing the subject.

  “Kemah, Texas. Little port town down by Galveston.”

  “Yeah. I know Galveston. I was there several years ago.

  They’ve got an old sailing ship there they rescued from the graveyard and refurbished. I think it’s name is Elissa. Ever seen it?”

  “No.” Alward shook his head. “Probably happened long after I left Kemah.” He walked away, filled his cup with hot coffee, glanced at Harry as he held his cup aloft. Harry shook his head no.

  With that conversation stopped. Harry stood his watch, checked the dials, scanned the horizon, and glanced at Alward several times. Putting his cup down, Alward said, “Kemah was where I lost my wife—”

  “Sorry,” blurted Harry.

  “Nothing like that,” Alward said with a wry smile. “The bitch dumped me for a damned Mexican stud.”

  “Oh, I-I see,” Harry found himself saying.

  “Jose was a jealous bastard. Caught her cheating on him in some cheap dive with a black guy. The asshole pulled a knife and killed them both.”

  “Geez!” exclaimed Harry. “Geez!”

  “No great loss,” Alward continued. “She was a boozer and a damned drunk. The Mexican is probably still on death row.” With that, Alward walked away to the front of the bridge. There was a deadly quietness in the cabin for the best part of an hour.

  Harry felt uneasy about the man. No feelings of loss about his wife. Bitter. Yet, there was just something about him he couldn‘t put his finger on. Maybe it was his constant harping about pirates? Hell, they could ward off any attack by pirates.

  Bert Kilgrew entered the bridge, gave a nod to Harry, and approached Alward. He leaned forward whispering something to him. Alward nodded solemnly in return. So what’s up, wondered Harry.

  “Hey, matie,” Bert said to Harry, “how goes the morning?”

  “Good,” replied Harry offering a friendly grin.

  “I hear you and the cook are engaged,” Bert said. “Is that right? Or does a stud like me stand a chance with her?” A dirty laugh followed the comment.

  “We’re engaged,” Harry replied crisply. “Hands off!”

  “Hey, man, she’s all yours. But if she ever gets tired of the ‘old’ man, this young stud could show her a thing or two—”

  Harry glared at the man. “Keep your nose out of my business, and keep away from Osa. The lady is engaged. Period.”

  Bert cut loose with another long, dirty laugh. He stepped in front of Harry and flexed his muscles. “Hey, Harry,” he said tauntingly, “Anytime you want a piece of me old man, come and try.”

  “Cool It, Bert,” Alward snapped. “Get your ass off the bridge! That’s an order!”

  Bert threw a sour look at Alward, shrugged his shoulders, flippantly tipped his cap to Harry and left the bridge. Again, there was silence on the bridge.

  First Officer Helmstrund relieved them at 0800 hours. Al-ward repeated the Captain’s orders, then left the bridge immediately as though he had a lot on his mind.

  “Is someting wrong, Harry?” Sigmund asked catching the redness on Harry’s face.

  “No! His idiot mate, Bert, stopped by a little while ago, and the two had a brief discussion. Then Bert started in on me about my being engaged to Osa, and what a stud like him could do for the lady. I wanted to deck him—”

  “Dat Bert is an idiot—vat ve call pucko!” Sigmund snapped. “I haf vatched him. He is alvays looking at Osa. I don’t like der man at all. I vill be glad ven ve reach Samar. I tink even Captain Andress vill see all four are put ashore dere.”

  “Good. But don’t worry about Bert. If he gets out of hand, I’ll nail his worthless ass. You can bet on that.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Bert Takes it on the Chin

  Osa greeted Harry with a big smile as he stopped before her serving area. “Good morning, Harry,” she said sweetly. “Und how are you today?”

  “Excellent,” he replied, “and you—”

  “How about me, sweetie?” interrupted Bert Kilgrew’s abrasive voice. He had slipped in line right behind Harry, “How about me? I’m feeling great today, too.”

  Osa’s face drained of color, the bright smile she had for Harry turned cold as she looked at the swaggering lout, her eyes snapping with anger. What an arrogant jerk she thought. He needs a lesson in manners.

  “Cool it, Bert,” Harry snapped, glaring at the man. “Back off. I mean it!”

  “Screw you,” retorted Bert. “What am I supposed to do, cower because your a big bad Marine? Screw you!!”

  “I’m telling you to knock off your wise-ass comments
in front of the lady, and I mean it!” Harry’s body tensed. Bert was a loud mouthed jerk who was pushing for a show down. Harry wanted to deck the idiot so bad he could taste it.

  “Anytime you think you can handle a stud like me, just try it,” Bert taunted sticking his chin out, grinning at Harry. He tapped his chin with his forefinger. “If you want, I can even put a chip on my shoulder for you to knock off, big bad Marine hero.”

  “That’s it,” Harry said. “Step outside. Now!” He slammed his tray down on the counter. “Now!” he snarled.

  “With pleasure,” Bert retorted, casually leaving his tray on the counter next to Harry’s, as he sauntered toward the door leading out to the main deck.

  “Harry! Bert! Stop it dis minute!” Osa cried out, but it was a moment too late.

  On deck, Harry squared away facing Bert. Yeah, Bert was younger, and probably faster, but hell, it’d be fun just to get into a donnybrook with the bastard, and if he was lucky, clean his clock!

  A knot of sailors, having heard the challenge, flooded from the galley and quickly gathered around for the fight. Even a few wagered on the outcome: the brawn of Bert versus the steadiness of Harry Martin.

  Still wringing her hands in her apron, Osa, had dashed out, fearful for Harry. He really shouldn’t have challenged Bert; he was so mean and so powerful looking.

  Bert moved around to his left in a circular fashion, fists moving, eyes glued on Harry, waiting for an opening. Suddenly he threw the first punch, an upper cut that missed by a mile as Harry ducked, dodged, and backed away, also circling to his left.

  With a roar Bert came at him throwing a roundhouse punch that just missed Harry’s head. Again, Harry backed away, dancing around, fists still held high. “What’sa matter, big Marine? Scared?” Bert taunted.

  He had caught sight of Osa behind the crowd of sailors. Let her see what a real stud could do! With another roar, he charged Harry, fists flailing, punch after punch after punch figuring to knock the old man out and end it in a hurry. But his fists only bounced off Harry’s raised arms. The moment he stopped to catch his breath, Harry countered with a solid right to Bert’s gut. He could hear the gasping wheeze from the man as he suddenly exhaled, surprised at the blow.

  Harry threw a roundhouse blow that missed, but then he jerked his elbow back catching Bert solidly on his nose. Blood immediately spurted from his nose splashing down across his chest, his eyes blinking tears of pain at the hit.

  Swearing he’d kill the old bastard, Bert charged at Harry, then suddenly kicked out with a vicious karate kick that caught Harry in the gut knocking him backwards against the railing. Harry dropped to his knees, winded, saw Bert coming at him with another kick, and fell to his back averting it. He rolled over and came up in a fighting stance.

  Smiling, he motioned to Bert to bring it on. Bert danced around shaking his head, wiping blood from his nose on his sleeve, his angry dark eyes focused on Harry. He was aware the crew members were cheering Harry, not him. He had to finish the old sonofabitch, and do it now! He moved in fast throwing body blows at Harry’s gut with hopes of nailing him with a roundhouse punch that‘d knock his damned head off. Harry warded off the blows, weaving and dodging, then skipped back away ducking under a dangerous roundhouse punch.

  Before the surprised Bert could react, Harry feinted to his left, and just as quickly, threw a right uppercut that smashed through his defenses landing solidly on his chin. Bert’s hands dropped to his sides. He wore a dull, stupid look for a moment before his eyes glazed over, and he collapsed hitting the deck out cold.

  A cheer went up from the small bevy of sailors. Osa jumped for joy; this was her man. He was her hero!

  “The guy’s got a glass jaw,” Harry muttered, surprised at what had just happened. “The guy’s got a glass jaw.” He laughed. “A glass jaw!”

  He got a bucket of water and threw it on Bert. The cold water startled him awake.

  “Wha’— wha’ happened?” Bert said groggily, looking up at Harry, then somewhat dazedly about him “Wha‘ happened?”

  “You’ve got a glass jaw,” Harry said, reaching down and grabbing the man’s hand. “C’mon,” he said pulling the man to his feet. Bert stood ungainly on rubber legs, still confused, not quite believing this old fart could have taken him.

  “C’mon,” Harry said, slapping him solidly on his shoulder, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  “Go to hell!” Bert snapped, slapping Harry’s hand away. “I don’t want nothin’ to do with you.” Angrily he shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared inside the ship. Harry shrugged. What the hell, it was a fair fight.

  He joined with the rest of the crew and headed back into the galley to the food line. Osa beamed at Harry, thankful for what he had done, thankful that he hadn’t been hurt. Harry winked at her as she served him. She didn’t know what it was, but this man sent shivers coursing through her body. She’d reward him tonight, that was a given.

  Harry sat to one side eating his breakfast. He reviewed the fight several times in his mind. He knew Bert was a fighter. Of late he was always angling for a fight, and today he had given him what he wanted. He grinned. Damn but it felt good! He recalled a Marine boxer back in Tsingtao in 1947 who fought his way all the way back to the states only to run into a tougher boxer who threw a punch that connected solidly with his chin and knocked him out. Glass jaw. Go figure.

  Marine?

  Harry picked at his teeth with a tooth pick reflecting back on what Bert had called him: Marine. Yeah, he had mentioned Marine boot training at Parris Island yesterday during that boarder repelling session. George Alward had apparently been impressed at his training and his use of weapons. So now they‘d probably taunt him with Marine. So what; he was a Marine and damned proud of it.

  Right after breakfast, Harry headed down to the engine room. He looked up Chief Engineer Gueder Svenson. “Hello, Harry Martin,” bellowed Gueder above the roaring sound of the engines. “How is der vorld treating you today?” He was wiping his oily hands in a dirty rag, then threw it off to one side. “I hear you are a good fighter, yah?”

  “Good,” Harry replied breaking into a grin. “I got lucky.”

  Gueder laughed. “Not from vat I heard. You ver good!”

  Harry laughed. Gueder was a great guy, easy to talk to, always friendly, and he spoke his mind, and that‘s what Harry liked. They had a good respect for each other.

  “Coffee?” Gueder shouted.

  “Sure. Love a cup,” Harry hollered back.

  Gueder led him over to his small office area where a coffee pot perked with fresh coffee. “Fresh!” he yelled. Harry laughed, and took the cup offered to him.

  “So how’s it going down here?” he said, grabbing a chair and plopping down on it. “Have you been able to get any work out of that new guy, Ace?”

  “Yah. Damned little, but yah.” He gave a shake of his head. “Funny guy. He knows his vay around der engines, but he’s chust lazy, although I tink not!”

  At that moment, Harry caught sight of Ace coming their way. It was then that he got his first good look at Ace Dingman. He was stripped to the waist. What Gueder had said, was true: the guy was a mass of tattoos from head to waist, and probably all points in between and below.

  “Hey!” Harry yelled, waving the man over. Ace stopped, looked, then pointed at himself. “Yeah! C’mere,” Harry called. “I want to meet you.”

  Ace stepped into the small office. Harry had but a moment to size him up: stocky build, shaved head covered with tattoos, tattoos down his neck, arms, shoulders and biceps. He looked at

  Harry through deep-set, black glowering eyes; no smile.

  “Yeah,” he snapped. “What d’ya want?”

  “I wanted to meet you,” Harry said, rising to shake his hand. “I’ve met your three other shipmates, so I wanted to meet you.”

  The man refused his hand. “Yeah. So now you’ve met me.”

  “Yeah,” Harry said, withdrawing his awkwardly held out hand, at the same
time trying to figure the man out. “Sorry about the loss of your ship and crew. It must have been quite traumatic, especially the loss of your whole crew. That must have been bad—”

  “Shit happens,” replied Ace with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “How many in your engine room crew?”

  Ace flicked out his fingers one at a time, counting “Ten stinking Asians.”

  “But you’re the only one who got out of the engine room—”

  “Right. And I ain’t got no apologies. When I saw what was happening I got the hell out of there. You gotta take care of numero uno. That’s me.”

  While he answered, Harry’s eyes had studied the black tattoos. Definitely prison made tattoos. There was no doubt in his mind; Ace had spent time in prison, but for what?

  “What was the name of your ship?” Harry asked.

  “I forgot. Some kind of oriental name. Owned by some Jap outfit. Ask Alward, he knows all the details. I was just the flunky in the engine room.”

  “Yeah, well, you four were damned lucky to make it off the sinking vessel. I understand it went down nose first. Your ship must have dove right into a huge wave to go down that fast.”

  “Yeah. I think it was. Yeah, a big wave.” Ace acknowledged.

  “Well, it was good to meet you, Ace.” Once again, Harry reached out to shake the guy’s hand. Ace hesitated a moment, then instead of ignoring it, shook Harry’s hand, squeezing it solidly, painfully, a sign that he was a tough man, and not to be taken lightly.

  “I’m not a pushover like Bert,” he said staring right into Harry’s face. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

  Harry shook his hand several times after Ace left. The guy was tough, prison tough, and not to be taken lightly. In his estimation, the guy was trouble.

  “Yah, now you haf met Ace,” grinned Gueder. “Vot do you tink?”

  “Like you said, dumb like a fox.”

  “Yah.” He laughed. “I keep an eye on him.” All of a sudden he slapped at his knee. “Anudder ting, Harry, he does a lot of exploring, too. I don’t like it vun bit.”