Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “Umm,” Captain Scragg said, rubbing his whiskered jaw with a horny hand. All of his cautious, shrewd instincts were aroused, but they were not proof against the beamingly fond look the Widow bestowed on him as she asked the question.

  “Why, sure I got a hundred dollars,” he said, “but that seems like a lot of money to pay—”

  The Widow Jones pouted openly.

  “I thought you was willing to get me anything I wanted,” she sniffed into the bar rag.

  “Now wait a minute,” the captain said anxiously, “if you want that jool you’re going to get it. It’ll take all the ready cash I got, but money don’t mean a thing to me if it’s goin’ to make you happy.”

  The Widow Jones brightened visibly. “And don’t forget,” she said warmly, “you’re going to get even with Puna Walla at the same time.”

  “Yeah,” the captain said, “there’s that too.”

  HE tried to inject a hearty note of enthusiasm into his voice, but somehow the effort failed. For some reason Captain Scragg was feeling less enthusiastic about the jewel venture with each passing second. Puna Walla was not the type of man to let a valuable jewel out of his possession for a hundred dollars, but the captain realized that it was too late to back out of the deal now. He had already committed himself.

  His enthusiasm was not increased when, a moment later, the swinging doors banged inward, and an immense, swarthy Martian lumbered into the bar.

  “What a stroke of luck,” the Widow Jones whispered tensely to the captain. “Here’s Puna Wala now.”

  “Yeah,” Captain Scragg said dryly, “what a coincidence.”

  Puna Walla was big, even for a Martian. His great chest was barrellike in size, and his head looked like a half bushel. Pendulous ears hung almost to his shoulders, but his eyes were keen points in his brutal, moon-like face.

  He strode to the bar, grinning broadly. He slapped the captain on the back, almost knocking him off the bar stool.

  “Ha! My friend Captain Stinky,” he boomed. “It is good to see Captain Stinky again.”

  The captain felt his blood pressure soaring dangerously. An angry red mottled his face. If there was one thing in the world that could drive him into a frenzy, it was the sobriquet, Captain Stinky.

  He jumped to his feet, knocking his stool over. He shoved his jaw out belligerently and glared at the grinning Martian, who towered three feet above him.

  “If you’re after trouble,” he cried in shrill rage, “you’ve come to the right place. I got a name, you lop-eared, over-grown tub of Martian lard, and if you don’t start using it, I’ll—I’ll paste you into the middle of next week.”

  The big Martian continued to grin easily.

  “I am so sorry, Captain Scragg. It was only the mistake of the tongue. From now on it will not happen again.”

  The Widow Jones interrupted anxiously.

  “We was just talking about you Puna Walla,” she said. “Wasn’t we, captain?”

  “I suppose we were,” Captain Scragg growled.

  “How is that?” Puna Walla inquired.

  “It’s about that pretty piece of glass, you’ve got,” the Widow Jones said breathlessly. “The captain was saying as how he’d like to see it.”

  The big Martian shrugged.

  “And why not?” he said. “For my good friend, the captain, I will only be too happy.”

  HE pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and opened it carefully, displaying a clear, glinting stone, almost an inch in diameter.

  “This is my little beauty,” he said.

  The Widow Jones sighed like a leaky air rocket, and gazed wistfully from the stone to the captain.

  “Ain’t it purty?” she said soulfully.

  Captain Scragg ran a nervous hand through his spiky red hair. He felt uncomfortably trapped, but he could not resist the lambent force of the widow’s large melting eyes.

  “What’ll you take for it?” he asked bluntly.

  Puna Walla gazed speculatively at the stone.

  “How much?” he said in surprised tones. “It has not occurred to me how much. Maybe a hundred of the dollars is a fair price, no?”

  “I’ll give you fifty,” Ebenezer snapped.

  “I do not haggle over the price,” the Martian said with a faint sneer. He started to return the stone to his pocket.

  “Wait a minute,” Captain Ebenezer said, “I’ll give you a hundred for it.”

  “Ah!” Puna Walla smiled. “That is nice. May I see the hundred of the dollars.”

  “You dang right you can,” the captain snapped. He dug into his trousers and pulled out a moth eaten leather wallet, held together by a tightly wrapped piece of cord.

  He slipped off the cord and opened the wallet. He laid the money on the bar. An aching twinge shot through him as he watched the Martian’s big hand close slowly and greedily over the crumpled bills.

  “All right,” he said, “let’s have the jool.”

  Puna Walla chuckled contentedly as he tossed the stone on the bar in front of the Captain.

  “I am only too happy,” he said. His chuckle swelled to a deep rumbling laugh and he slapped the bar resoundingly with his huge hand. “The pretty stone you have paid one hundred of the dollars belong to you all the time, Captain Stinky.”

  Captain Scragg felt something like a cold hand close over his stomach. He was too stunned by the Martian’s statement to take offense at the hated title of Captain Stinky.

  “What did you say?” he gasped. He looked anxiously to the Widow Jones and then he saw that she was laughing too, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. She leaned weakly against the bar, almost choking with merriment and her hoarse guffaws pounded at the captain’s ears with sickening clamor.

  Puna Walla tossed half of the captain’s hard-earned money to the Widow Jones, and she scooped it up between chuckles.

  “That,” Puna Walla said, “is your share for baiting the trap for our friend, Captain Stinky.”

  CAPTAIN Scragg stared at the Widow Jones, his mind staggered by the horrible import of Puna Walla’s action. What a simple, stupid fool he’d been! Somehow this pair had joined forces to trick him out of his money—and they had certainly succeeded.

  “You swindlers! he shrieked. “Gimme back my money.”

  Puna Walla threw back his huge head and roared with amusement.

  “Listen to me, Captain Stinky,” he said, when he was able to control his mirth. “This stone which you buy—do you know where from it come?”

  “No!” exploded Captain Ebenezer. “And I don’t give a dang. I want my money back.”

  “The stone I get from your messboy, Mono,” Puna Walla cried gleefully. “He come to my bar a while ago with stone. He find this beautiful, valuable jewel in the garbage of your Sweet Pea. He gives it to me, Puna Walla, for one bottle of cheap Earth rum. And I sell it back to you, Captain Stinky, for one hundred of the dollars.”

  “You lousy thief!” Captain Scragg howled. “By rights the stone was mine all the time. If it was in my garbage it belonged to me. You swindled it away from Mono, fixed it with the Widow Jones to get me to buy it back for a hundred dollars from you. Then you split with her.”

  Puna Walla clapped the captain on the back with his big hand and winked broadly at the Widow Jones.

  “That is what I have been try to tell you,” he said. “At last you understand. You are one big fool, Captain Stinky.” Captain Ebenezer danced from one foot to another in a frenzy of rage. Never in his life had he felt so humiliated, so betrayed, so bitterly gypped and so callously ridiculed.

  “Thieves! robbers!” he screamed. His face flushed lobster-red; his spike-like orange hair bristled; his snapping blue eyes almost disappeared under his beetling brows. He picked up the stone from the bar and hurled it to the floor.

  “There’s your dang durned jool back,” he shrieked. “I want my money!”

  “But that is impossible,” Puna Walla said, spreading his hands out and grinning. “The deal is made.”


  Captain Ebenezer doubled up his fists and lunged at the huge Martian. “I’ll show you,” he shouted. “I’ll teach you not to pull your tricks on the Master of the Sweet Pea.

  PUNA WALLA laughed and put his huge hand against the captain’s chest and shoved. It was an effortless, almost careless gesture, but Captain Ebenezer’s skinny figure catapulted across the room as if it had been fired from a rocket.

  The captain collided with the wall and fell to the floor, stunned and breathless. When he could focus his eyes on the spinning room, he saw that Puna Walla and the Widow Jones were holding their sides, convulsed with mirth.

  Painfully he crawled to his knees. His right fist touched a hard round surface and he looked down and saw the clear glass stone on the floor. He put it into his pocket and stood up, aching in every muscle.

  The Martian and the widow went into fresh gales of laughter as he limped toward the door, crushed and bitter.

  “Come in again, Captain Stinky,” the Widow Jones called out mockingly.

  Captain Ebenezer halted and glared angrily and helplessly at her, then he turned and limped out of the bar.

  Outside, the captain paused only long enough to shake his fist in futile rage at the Widow Jones’ establishment, before stamping off down the dark crooked street, swearing blasphemously at the top of his shrill cracked voice.

  It wasn’t so much the loss of the money, although that was bad enough. The perfidy and double-cross of the Widow Jones was the thing that really rankled. That and the fact that it was the detested Puna Walla who had conceived the swindle.

  The captain turned a corner and a small running figure collided with him, almost knocking him to the ground.

  “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” snapped the captain shrilly.

  “So, so sorry,” the figure gasped. “In much hurry.”

  The muffled voice was familiar. Captain Ebenezer dragged the man closer to the flickering street light.

  “Mono!” he snapped.

  THE small Venusian looked up at him in anxious entreaty. His slightly green skin was pale and his perpetually blank expression had given way to one of worried apprehension. And to the captain’s sensitive nose drifted the rank aroma of cheap rum.

  He looked at his one-man crew in angry disgust.

  “You drunken, swilling idiot!” he blazed. “It’s your fault that I’ve just been swindled out of a hundred dollars of hard earned money. If you hadn’t given that dang durned stone to Puna Walla I’d still have my money in my pocket instead of a worthless hunk of glass.”

  Mono’s eyes shone excitedly.

  “You say you have the stone?” he demanded tensely.

  “Yes. Why?”

  Mono sank against the wall of a building and heaved a deep sigh of relief.

  “I found the stone in the garbage hamper. I gave it to Puna Walla for a bottle rum. You know that, Captain?”

  “Yer dang right I know it,” Captain Ebenezer exploded. “I’m just telling you I bought the stone from Puna Walla for a hundred dollars.”

  “Listen to me, Captain,” Mono said excitedly. “The Gloria has just moored at the main space wharf. I have talked to one of the hands and he has told me that a great jewel was lost on the trip from Earth to this planetoid. And the jewel has not yet been found. A reward of five thousand dollars has been offered for its return.”

  “And you think—”

  Captain Ebenezer broke off and dug into his pocket and pulled out the big jewel.

  “Of course, of course,” he said excitedly. “We picked up the garbage from this Gloria just a few hours ago.”

  “I have been looking for you, Captain, ever since I have heard the news. I have been so afraid that the stone was forever lost to Puna Walla. But now everything is saved. You have the jewel.”

  CAPTAIN EBENEZER examined the stone closely. When he completed his inspection he dropped the stone back into his pocket and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

  “Mono,” he said, “do you know where the Widow Jones’ place is?”

  “But yes.”

  “Puna Walla is there laughing his sides out at me right now.” The captain squinted carefully at Mono. “Go down to the Widow Jones’ and tell ’em just what you told me about the jewel being lost on the Gloria.”

  “But—”

  “‘And don’t mention that you’ve seen me,” Captain Ebenezer continued. “Just tell ’em about the jool bein’ lost on the Gloria.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Mono said bewilderedly. “Why do you want Puna Walla to know this?”

  Captain Ebenezer chuckled slyly. “Ever hear of killing two birds with one stone? Now get on to Widow Jones’. I’ll be at the main wharf at the space port . . .”

  CAPTAIN SCRAGG selected a position at the base of the mighty central mooring wharf and settled himself for a wait. Above him the elongated bulk of the Gloria, was visible, stretching from the socket-like nose of the mooring wharf to the outer fringes of the planetoid’s atmosphere.

  Captain Scragg leaned against a packing case and cleaned his nails with a splinter. He had chosen his position with a judicious eye for the red-tuniced Federation officers who patroled the ramps of the mooring tower. He nodded genially at several of them as they strolled past. One shout would bring him all the assistance he’d need.

  Fifteen minutes passed and the captain yawned. About time now. Within another thirty seconds he heard his name shouted.

  Looking up, with nicely affected surprise, he saw the huge Martian, Puna Walla, lumbering in his direction, followed by the Widow Jones. Pattering after these two worthies was Mono, a worried expression on his bland green features.

  “Well, well,” Captain Scragg said genially, as the Martian and the Widow came to a breathless stop before him, “this is a pleasant surprise. You folks must be in a hurry.”

  Puna Walla’s cold sharp eyes bored into the captain’s.

  “You have heard?” he demanded harshly.

  “Heard what?” the captain asked. He looked from the Puna Walla to the Widow Jones in simulated surprise. “What’s eatin’ you people?” His sharp eyes did not miss the nudge that the widow gave the Martian.

  “Oh, Ebenezer,” the Widow Jones said, “Puna Walla got to talking over how we cheated you and we both begin to feel pretty low about it. We want to do the right thing. We’ll give you back your money and take back that worthless hunk of glass.”

  “That is right,” Puna Walla said excitedly. “We have both felt very bad. So you give us back the glass and we give you your money. After all, Captain, you are my friend, I would not cheat my friend.”

  CAPTAIN EBENEZER went on cleaning his nails with elaborate concentration.

  “That’s right nice of you folks,” he said. “But I just found that this little old hunk of glass has got a strong sentimental value. So much so, that I just couldn’t think of parting with it. Thank you kindly, but it just can’t be done.”

  Puna Walla passed a shaking hand over his forehead and looked in desperation at the Widow Jones. She shook her head in helpless despair.

  “Listen, my friend,” Puna Walla said. “I tell you what I do to undo the great wrong we do to you. I give you one hundred and fifty dollars for the glass. Just because my heart is big and generous.”

  Captain Ebenezer shook his head with a smile. He removed the stone from his pocket and held it gently between his thumb and forefinger. He regarded it as a fond father might a precocious child.

  “Funny,” he said, “how you develop an attachment to some dang worthless thing like this. But the fact is, you do. It’d take a lot of money for me to part with this stone now. I’m just in love with the blamed thing. Yes, sir,” he sighed, “it’d take a lot of money any way you look at it.”

  “How much?” Puna Walla demanded hoarsely.

  “Oh, shucks,” Captain Ebenezer said, “I wasn’t meaning for you to buy it, Puna Walla. You know it ain’t worth a dime. You knew that when you sold it to me. Naw, save your money Pu
na Walla. Don’t let that big generous heart of yours get you into trouble.”

  Puna Walla clenched his mighty fists spasmodically.

  “It is you who are heading for trouble,” he snarled.

  Captain Ebenezer waved cheerfully to a Federation officer.

  “Hello, Sergeant,” he sang out. “Nice weather, ain’t it?”

  “Nice enough,” the Sergeant answered, grinning.

  Captain Ebenezer looked up at Puna Walla with childish innocence.

  “I missed that last remark of yours,” he said. “Something about trouble, wasn’t it?”

  “No! You misunderstanding me,” said Puna Walla desperately. “I am just asking for the price of the stone.”

  “Oh, that,” Captain Ebenezer said. He dropped the stone back into his pocket and went on cleaning his nails.

  “How much?” Puna Walla cried.

  “Three thousand dollars,” said Captain Ebenezer, without batting an eye.

  “Three thousand!” The Widow Jones almost screamed the words. “That’s crazy!”

  “Isn’t it, though?” the captain smiled. “Who’d pay that kind of money for a piece of worthless junk?”

  “NOW listen to me,” Puna Walla said, desperate urgency in his voice. “I need that stone. I will pay you three thousand for it. I will give you a hundred of the dollars right now and the rest of the dollars later.”

  The captain smiled up at Puna Walla and went on cleaning his nails.

  “All right,” the words burst from the Martian, “I will give you all of the dollars.” He turned to the Widow Jones. “How much money have you got?” he demanded roughly.

  She handed him her purse and he jerked a roll of bills from it eagerly. He counted them hurriedly, then emptied the contents of his own wallet into his hand.

  “I have only here twenty eight hundred of the dollars,” he said feverishly. He wheeled on the Captain. “You hear? you hear? I am two hundred of the dollars short I”

  “Now ain’t that a shame,” Captain Ebenezer said, clucking his tongue sympathetically. “That kind of spoils the deal, don’t it?”