Sword in Sheath (12 page)

“But there must be one,” protested Kane. He smeared the back of his hand across his dripping face.

“Okay — so there must be one!” Sam still had energy enough to snap. “Unless these people sprout wings at will Only we haven't found it. And if you think I’ll go head first down that ape-hole just to satisfy your curiosity you're crazy! I might meet someone coming up. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day, and the
Sumba
isn't going to sail tonight. We can come up and try again. But now I vote we go back to civilization.”

“Wonder how the shore party is getting along?”

Sam handed over the binoculars. “Take a peek. You ought to be able to sight them from that eagles’ roost up there.”

Kane clambered up on a pinnacle of rock and turned the glasses on the shore line far below. It was several seconds before he focused on the captain's following. They were gathered in a tight cluster out on a finger of
the shore reef. And they seemed to be busy, very busy. While he watched, one of the figures dove into the green lagoon.

“They must have found something. They've taken to diving!”

Sam was up beside him in one wild lunge, pulling at the glasses. “Let me see!”

“Someone just dived. Maybe they've discovered the pearl fishery — ”

“I'm pretty good in water, too. Suppose we go down and volunteer a bit of help. After all, we got what we came up here for, a look at the other side of the island. And we know about the cave dwellers. So let's hit the down trail.”

The descent was not as difficult as the climb had been. Fortnight turned the rope into a ladder across the worst parts, and they followed the curve of the old road as long as they could without running into territory which might be under the direct control of the cave people. Panting and soaked with their own sweat, they came out at last on the same strip of sand from which they had departed hours before. Kane staggered down to dabble his hands in the wash of the waves. Salt stung his chafed palms and the cuts the lava rocks had made.

“Come on!” Sam tugged at him. “I want to see what they've found — ”

The sand shifting under their boots was almost as hard to cross as the lava had been, and the coral was as rough as the stone. Those who were on the reef did not even look as the mountaineering party came up.

“Did you find pearls — ?” Sam was the first to reach the end of the reef.

A man stripped to his shorts, heavy diving goggles over his eyes, looked up at the Nisei By his pale skin and blond hair Kane identified Lorens.

“There is an oyster bed, yes. But there is something else down there — wreckage!”

Kane edged over to peer into the murky water. The distortion of the undersea world was complete as far as he was concerned. Then a dark form spiraled up from the depths, and a native, wearing the same sort of goggles as those which made Lorens look like an insect, broke water.

“What kind of wreckage?” the American demanded. An illogical picture had formed in his mind. Why did that one word bring a vision of a Spanish galleon lying on its side with jewels dripping from every sprung seam of its weed-grown hull? He must have been conditioned by too many pirate stories in his youth.

“Metal of some kind.” Lorens stepped gingerly to the edge of the reef and prepared to dive. “I’m going down to see — ”

He slipped over and went smoothly into the dusk of the lagoon before Kane could answer.

“It is there, Captain.” The native was making his report. “Tight in the coral trees it is. Big, very big.”

“A ship?” questioned Kane.

“Tuan,” the Malay answered him, “if it is a ship it is unlike any I have seen before, ever.”

12

SUNKEN TREASURE

Lorens’ head broke the surface, his water-darkened hair plastered to his skull With even strokes he made for the reef and chose a landing place carefully before he climbed into the air. As he pulled off his diving goggles van Bleeker reached him.

“Well? What is it that that dunderhead Futa stumbled upon — a prau?”

The Netherlander was toweling his head with his shirt. “No. I think it is wreckage of a plane. The nose is wedged into a crevice of the reef, just as if she dove straight for that point. But a large part of the frame has been salvaged — ”

“Salvaged!” Van Bleeker's voice ascended the scale. He glanced at the shore as if he expected to see a salvage party. But only the white-winged seabird wheeled and dipped and cried above the green twilight there. “By whom?”

Lorens applied the improvised towel to shoulders and upper arms. “By someone who knew his business. It is
not a job done by natives. All that remains is that part of the fuselage which has plowed too deep into the coral to get at without blowing up the reef. I think that it is the remains of a bomber.”

Sam was peeling off his clothes. “Suppose I go down for a look. Our job may have caught up with us at last — we were sent here to investigate lost bombers.”

Lorens handed over the goggles, and Sam, stripped to his violently colored shorts, slid gingerly into the water. “Any sharks or other wild life?” he asked before he disappeared.

The Netherlander shook his head. “We have sighted none yet. But I see you wear a knife, that is good. It is well to be prepared.”

To Kane the following minute seemed overlong. But then Sam bobbed up again, his grin wide and exultant as he made for the reef.

“ She's a bomber all right, and one of ours, Dutch — or I'm a temple-haunting ape,” he sputtered, almost before his mouth was clear of the water. “And she's been salvaged almost down to her ribs too. Which means — ”

“Survivors!” Now it was Kane's turn to look shoreward. “But where have they gone? If I’d been holed up here for years, I'd have been down dancing on the beach when I saw a ship come in. And we haven't even had a hello. Are you sure that the natives haven't been scrounging the stuff? The metal ought to be worth something even in this backwoods.”

“No.” Sam was definite. “That job was done carefully by someone who not only was familiar with metal but who knew his way around a plane. He knew just what he was after, and he took it. And it's been down there for months by the look of it. Our castaways may have sailed from here some time ago — ”

“Or met with accidents — fatal ones.” Again Kane's
eyes went shoreward “There is something about this island that is anything but welcoming — ”

Lorens pulled his belt through its buckle. His eyes narrowed, not against the glare of the sun. “ So you feel that too? Yes, there is something in the air of this place which is not good — not good at all.”

Van Bleeker spat out an exclamation which was half impatience, half derision. “Superstition is it now? Should I provide anting-antings for the crowd of you? We can keep watch. We are men who are trained to use weapons, and we have them to use. I do not think we have anything to fear — we of the
Sumba
!”

“Doubtless you are right,” conceded Lorens. “And” — he turned to Kane — “what did you find on the mountain top?”

Kane's tale of the ruins in the cone and the temple in the sky was so hurried that they stopped him often to demand details. It was the apes’ passageway and the discovery of the ledge which was a vantage point over the other side of the island that interested the captain most.

“And you found no other road down?” he persisted.

“None — except the ape-hole. And that may not lead down at all. But there were no tracks of human feet in that temple. Whoever brought the offering hadn't come through there — ”

“And even if we did find the path that worshiper used,” Lorens pointed out, “it might not be well for us to follow it The cave dwellers must know that we are here; they may have been spying on us constantly since the
Sumba
came into the lagoon. And we must be unwelcome — no one has come to see us openly. Remember what happened to that pearl diver?

“ So an ambush on a trail would be only a routine move on their part. If we do invade the over-mountain territory, it would be best, I think, to cut around to the south through that section of open land which you noted. I have
a liking for a fight in the clear myself. A skirmish in a mountain tunnel where my opponent knows the ground better than I do is not exactly to my taste.”

Van Bleeker grunted, not more than half convinced. “Very well. First we shall try it your way — a frontal attack. Then, if we fail, we can once more attempt to find the mountain route. Back doors are sometimes easier to force than are the front — ”

“Look here,” Sam cut in, “everyone seems to be awfully sure we've got a fight shaping up — ”

“All indications point to that.” An air of tried patience showed through Lorens’ usual courtesy. “We have not been welcomed — and there is the matter of the diver — ”

“What if these people are only afraid of us?” argued the Nisei. “Lord, they may be the descendants of the old boys who built the temple. Maybe they've never seen white men or a ship such as the
Sumba
before. Hadn't we better find out how they stand before we go in with machine guns?”

“Maybe Sam's thinking is straighter than ours,” Kane agreed, almost diffidently. “We've been fighting so long that perhaps we — ”

“Have come to believe that force is the proper answer to every problem?” Lorens caught him up. “Yes, there is that But, on the other hand, there have been stories of holdout Japanese troops and native agitators taking to cover on these islands. What better place for them to go to earth than a place like this, which is off the map? So I say, go armed, but let the other side declare their intentions first.”

When they returned to the
Sumba,
Lorens went to work with a sheet of stiff paper and a set of drawing pencils to sketch a rough map of the island. With the sure hand of one who has seen it himself he drew in the reef and the shore line, then, more slowly, with Kane's awkward
help and that of Sam's more supple fingers, the mountain and its crater of ruins.

“So here is your spy ledge — hmmmm — “ Van Bleeker poked at the cross mark. “And here are the caves. How many of those do you think are in use?”

“We can't be sure — sure of anything,” Kane countered. “But I would say that these” — he pointed at the map — “and these are used.”

“Four here — three there. Big ones?”

It was Fortnight who answered that. “How can anyone tell from the size of the entrance. Many small holes open out into large caves. The cave of the temple is much larger than its entrance would suggest.”

Van Bleeker chewed his thumb. “Then there may be a hundred or more living there — ”

“Would this island support that many?” Kane wanted to know. “We haven't seen any fishing boats, and we didn't sight any large clearings under cultivation.”

“Even ten men in caves such as those could make trouble for us. That back door now — if we could find that.” The captain continued to pore over the sketch. “There — perhaps — ”

“That's sliced off clean — The old earthquake path took a big hunk of the crater along with it,” Sam explained. “That's what wiped off the end of that road which we found — ”

“Yes, the road, I was forgetting the road.” Van Bleeker's thumb went back to his lips. “But the lower end of that — it still runs into this bit of jungle here?”

“It must. Although we did not follow it past here. Only it would take a bulldozer to clean out that path; the jungle has grown clear across it. If we try to force a way through there we might just as well blow a bugle to announce us — we'd be as easily spotted in about five minutes!”

Lorens had his own answer to the problem. “We take the ship's boats to here.” He made a neat dot of his own
on the map. “How thick is this spur of jungle?” He looked up at Kane.

The American closed his eyes and tried to visualize the country as he had seen it from the ledge. There had been some greenery over to the south, but he could not recall how dense it had been — the caves and the land about them had held most of his attention then. “I can't remember.”

“Not much jungle there,” the Samoan supplied, “and not thick — not like on the lower mountain slopes.”

“Good enough. So here we leave the boats and cut overland, which should bring us to this V-shaped point of the open country. After that we can keep to the slope, under cover of the brush most of the way long. The jungle does not begin again, you say, until you approach this stream?”

This time Kane could answer. “Yes, it begins at the stream. But even there it is not so dense — it isn't anywhere over there.”

“Then that is my suggestion.” Lorens waited for their opinions.

Van Bleeker still studied the map, reluctant to give up his own cherished project of discovering a back door. But with a final grunt he surrendered.

“All right, all right, then. Overland it is. But, mind you, this is no frolic for tin-medaled heroes. I think that we are going to walk into something nasty on the other side of the mountain. I do not like this — not one little bit. And when we go, keep to cover. We will have no death-and-glory charges in this — ”

Kane clamped his teeth on a laugh. In place of van Bleeker's round chin and stubby nose he had, for an instant, seen the irregular angularity of Ironjaw's long face. At least their thoughts of battle were very, very similar.

“It only remains for us to decide when.” Lorens rolled
up the map. “Tomorrow — before dawn — ”

“Giving the inhabitants of this fair isle all night to set booby traps where they'll do the most good?” inquired Sam.

“It is not the easiest thing in the world to cross unknown territory at night, especially since we are not pushed for time — ”

“Van Norreys is right,” Kane said crisply. “And they can't be sure of our next move anyway. If they've been watching us, they know that we sent one party up the mountain and the other along the reef and shore. All right. How can they know that we plan now to march to the south? If their force is small they'll spread out so thin trying to cover every possible approach that they'll simply wrap themselves up in tissue paper and be a regular gift as far as we're concerned. And I don't fancy plowing through jungle in the dark when we've had no briefing about the route. I vote for a morning try.”

“Okay, okay.” Sam waved his hand in amiable agreement “I'm no owl either. Morning it is then.”

“And you, Captain?” Lorens turned to van Bleeker with that shade of deference he had always displayed toward the captain of the
Sumba.

“Right enough. Before dawn it is. And who will go?”

“I think it is more a question of who won't,” said Kane. And van Bleeker laughed for the first time.

“True enough. And, just in case there is a reason for these gloomy forebodings which seem to hang above our heads, I shall wireless to Besi the details of our proposed exploit That will give de Wolfe something with which to occupy his idle moments. It may be that we have even discovered the headquarters of his pirates.” The frown of concentration was back between the captain's sun-faded eyebrows again. “Which gives me to think — ”

“What if this is the raiders’ hideout and their ship or ships are at sea? Suppose that fleet comes in and bottles
up the
Sumba?
That would not be good — not good at all!”

“How about asking the turtle hunter a few pointed questions?” Kane suggested.

“Yes, the turtle hunter.” Lorens stopped making pleats in the edge of the map. “What has he to say about this island?”

But Fortnight was already on his way in quest of his prisoner. Van Bleeker appropriated one of Lorens’ pencils and began composing a message designed to arouse and irritate the distant Lt de Wolfe.

“How about it?” Kane asked Lorens. “Does this seem like a pirate stronghold to you? Not much activity to be seen — ”

“There would not be — except when one of their ships was in” Lorens was drawing the outline of a prau on the pad of notepaper. “One of these now with the proper arms would be able to take almost anything now sailing in these waters — except, naturally, a regular war vessel. But, yes, perhaps we would see more signs of life were this a pirate port. I think that not even yet have we guessed right concerning this island — ”

“But you did find pearls?” prodded Sam.

“We found pearl oysters, or rather, we saw them,” corrected Lorens. “That may mean nothing. And on this side of the lagoon there is no trace of pearl diving. The answer to all our riddles must lie here.” He unrolled the map and dug the soft lead of his pencil point into the location of the cave dwellers.

Van Bleeker poked the bell button on the wall at his elbow. And when the steward padded in the captain tossed a piece of much marked-over paper to him. “This to Jan and tell him it is for the Dutch commandant at Besi. There is no need to put it in code. And — here you are, Fortnight — does he wish to speak yet?”

Propelled by the Samoan's hand at the nape of his
neck, with Fortnight's other set of fingers gripping the waistband of his sarong, the turtle hunter entered the cabin with a total lack of ceremony and a semblance of haste he did not appear to find comfortable.

“He has not yet found his tongue. But I think that he will If he does not, why should you keep a useless mouth aboard, captain? We can easily set him ashore — “ began the Samoan.

The captive gave a broken wailing cry and grabbed for van Bleeker's hand. Missing aim, his fists fell to the table, and he gripped the edge of the board with a force that seemed likely to imbed his fingers in the wood itself.

“Not ashore — “ he screamed, thrusting his dirty head forward, terror showing in his eyes while a thin drool of saliva twisted down his unshaven chin. “Not ashore, Tuan Besar, Noble Captain, Master of the Winds — Not ashore!”

Van Bleeker's lips curved happily. “Now I wonder why?” he inquired of the company at large. “Fortnight, you are right about useless mouths. We can do well without them — ”