Sword in Sheath (18 page)

“Then let us three take the men in the trees and leave the German in the rocks to the men here —”

“As the Tuan says,” one of the Malay seamen agreed with Sam, “that is a task without effort.”

“Uh-huh,” grunted the snake hunter. “Don’t worry. We’ll git th’ bugger! Right away —”

At Lorens’ assenting nod, the three men from the
Sumba
left the cave, not with the carelessness Kane had feared, but as if they actually had some idea of what they were doing, taking cover where they could.

With Kane’s help Lorens made their captive fast on one of the bunks. Sam kept to the mouth of the cave, as far from the snakes as he could edge.

“I’ll take the one in the palm down by the lagoon,” he announced as the others returned. “I’ve already figured out how to get there.”

“And I want the one by the stream,” chimed in Lorens.

“Look here! How come I’m not allowed to have a choice?” demanded Kane. “All right. I suppose it’s a case of last come, last served. That leaves me the guy in the tree with the bunch of yellow flowers halfway up its trunk. Hmm —”

He adjusted the ship’s glasses and began a detailed examination of as much of the tree as he could see. The bunch of yellow flowers, apparently some form of orchid, marked it plainly enough. But in its mass of leaves and branches he could see no sign of any sniper, which was not unusual — the hiding game was probably one in which the Japanese was very proficient.

“I hope our little friend gave us the right steer —”

“He knows what will happen to him if his information proves to be incorrect,” Lorens answered cheerfully.

They stripped for action, putting aside any accouterments which might impede their crawl through the jungle. Then, with a mutual mutter of ‘good luck’, they took the plunge.

The moist heat closed in like an envelope as Kane descended into the green maw of vegetation. He went slowly, picking out the landmarks he had noted at the cave. Luckily this was jungle which had been already partially tamed by years of man’s hacking. He found a trail running in the right direction and used it as a guide.

His goal, the tree with the yellow flowers, grew on the edge of a small clearing where two giant trees had crashed some time ago, taking with them vines and saplings to make an open space. Kane found cover in the brush behind one of the rotting, insect-eaten trunks and started his search for the tree-roosting sniper. Inch by inch, branch by branch, almost leaf by leaf, he examined the tree. Of course, the fellow might be perched on the other side, but he doubted that. Instinct would place any sniper on this side, with the tree between him and the
direction from which he expected trouble.

The vicious flies had already found the American’s hiding place, and he began to wonder how long he could stand their attacks without the counteroffensive of slaps. Of course, he could take the chance, show himself as bait and hope for a split-second shot —

From the east came a thin, high scream, a cry which almost jerked Kane from his kneeling position to certain exposure. But his eyes held to the tree. And he saw a telltale movement of the leafy mass. Now his Reising sang, sharply and expertly. The leaves shook convulsively, but there was no outcry. Instead something dropped, plopping dully on the thick leaf mold.

The American crept forward, still ready to give a second burst of fire. Play-acting was a regular move in this type of warfare, and to play dead and so draw your enemy to you was the easiest and oldest trick of all. But Kane won to the shadow under the tree without seeing a second move above. And there, half-buried in the thick muck, he found a rifle, the telescopic sighted weapon of a trained Japanese sniper.

It took several minutes of searching to locate the body hanging from a limb fork. The sniper was tied to his tree after the usual custom, but he was very dead.

Taking up the rifle, Kane started back. He was faintly aware, now that he had time to think about it, that he had heard other shots. Maybe their part in the island battle was already over.

18

DIVISION OF SPOIL

“Yoo-layyyy-whooo!”

Sam’s raucous imitation of a yodel shattered the jungle, sending into flight some equally harsh-voiced birds and probably scaring the apes out of their wits. But it served to summon the expeditions back to the cave.

The assorted bag of prisoners was a small one. In addition to those they had captured in the inner cave they now held two Japanese, very much the worse for wear, and another Nordic superman Kane had foreseen the operation of the Moro party correctly. When they returned they came alone.

Van Bleeker eyed the captives, now dragged into the open for examination, with marked disfavor.

“Unlucky, always am I unlucky,” he spat out. “Now we must feed and nurse these swine until we can dump them into the arms of the proper authorities. Why does it always happen so to me?”

Kuran drew his hand across his throat in a graceful but very sinister gesture. But the captain of the
Sumba
shook his head. “No, we do not kill them. Why should we descend to their level? We take them back to be a headache for better men — that is the law.”

Kuran’s opinion of such a law was plain to read in his expression, but
he made no verbal protest. And van Bleeker sent a man back to the
Sumba
with orders to bring one of the ship’s boats around and pick up the prisoners. For the present they were pushed to the back of the cave and a guard placed over them. Then van Bleeker and Kuran turned briskly to the more congenial task of reckoning up the loot.

The headquarters cave yielded papers and a locked briefcase which Kane and Sam claimed, though Kuran had his doubts about turning over the briefcase until the Americans pointed out that their interest in the loot would stop with that portion of the spoil. Their claim in the name of the United States might be high-handed and illegal, but they intended to hold to it.

The bales of goods taken from the inner cave were cargoes from the pirated ships. Much of it Kuran appeared to recognize, though Kane privately wondered if the Moro’s pious claims were as true as they sounded. It was so easy to hail goods as one’s own when there were no embarrassing shipping tags in evidence to prove one a liar.

But in a niche of the inner cave was a steel box which van Bleeker and Kuran both hammered at in turn until they forced it open to spill out its contents on the canvas cover of the nearest bale.

Kane had read of the fairy tale ‘king’s ransom’ in jewels. But outside of the display of crown gems in the Tower of London, he did not believe that there ever had been such a treasure gathered in one place before. It was a tangle of brilliant fire.

Even Kuran blinked and, from the men circled about
the leaders, came little murmurs and cries. Lorens’ eyes narrowed. His hand gathered up a necklace of crystallized rainbow, and he held it closer to his eyes.

“You look as if you know that one,” Kane said.

“Perhaps I do. It is European in design. And so is this, and this — “He pushed aside a tiara, several rings, a wide bracelet of sullen crimson squares. “But these” — he separated from the lot some bulky pieces of far different workmanship — “are Eastern.” He glanced at old Toothless who was as big-eyed as the rest. “Ask him — are these from his people?”

When Kuran had translated that question the old chief cackled a long sentence or two which excited the Moro. But the old man made no move toward the display of gems; in fact he backed away a little from the bale where they rested.

“He says that these must be from the treasure storehouse of the wicked Rajah — he whose sins brought evil to this island many years ago. And so these are cursed, and it will be ill for any man to take them — even as it was ill for the pirates. For ever since they broke into the burial place of the Rajah and looted these they have quarreled amongst themselves, and several have been slain. He suggests that it would be wise to throw these into the sea lest the curse fall also upon us — ”

Lorens had been working swiftly while Kuran spoke, sorting the jewels into two piles. Those of oriental style in one, and those from Europe in the other.

“Well,” he said to the Moro, “do you agree that these are accursed?” He pushed the pile of stones toward Hakroun’s son, but the man made no move to reach for them.

“There are things which bear with them the Curse of Allah. And a wise man does not meddle with such. Let one braver than I provoke the Jinns of outer space!”

“You, van Bleeker?”

But the captain of the
Sumba
did not put out his hand either. He laughed, and the sound was one of embarrassment. “My living depends upon the good will of native peoples. I would not dare go against their beliefs — not even for a Rajah’s treasure!”

Kane looked at the jewels. “Why not,” he began somewhat shyly, then continued with more assurance, “why not sell them and give the money to Toothless? After all, these belonged to his people a long time ago. And maybe some witch doctor can take the spell off them — as the captain had that curse taken off the
Sumba
at Jolo.”

“And what do you say to that?” Lorens spoke not to the leaders now but to the outer circle of seamen and Moros.

Eurasian, Moro, Malay, Kanaka, Javanese, and European, they shuffled their feet, grinned, or just shook their heads firmly. They wished none of such ill-omened loot. It was the bosun of the
Sumba,
the snake hunter, who voiced their general opinion.

“There’s enough o’ this here other stuff. No use muckin’ around wi’ these here curses. They’s funny stuff — I’ve seen ’em act. I’m votin’ wi’ Mr. Kane. Let these island Johnnies have th’ dough. It’s their junk, ain’t it?”

“Boat comin’, sir!” The call came from the cave entrance to put an end to the discussion.

Lorens bundled all the jewels back into the box and kept the case under his arms as they went out. The boat had arrived all right, they could see it nosing in to the beach. And there seemed to be an unusually large number of people crowded into her. They didn’t come directly up from the beach either, but milled around down there on the scrap of sand as if engaged in assembling something. And, when they did start up the path the pirates had worn, Kane saw that bearers trotted along with two occupied hammocks swung between them.

Kuran permitted himself a slight smile and waved a
hand toward the cortege.

“It is my father. The old one must see for himself what we do. Last night it was necessary to argue much against his coming. This time — when I am not there to speak, he gives his own orders. So now he comes!”

Abdul Hakroun did occupy the first hammock. And behind him in the second rode Watson. Apparently the gunner was determined not to be left out. The old Moro held himself as erect as he could in his swinging cradle, his hands gripping the fiber rope edges of his conveyance desperately. And his cries of admonition began to reach the party at the caves.

But when, a short time later, he had been established in full dignity again on a couch made of the cleanest coverings from the bunks, he was as serene as ever. He greeted the warriors graciously and waited for a full battle report from his son.

Kane dropped down beside Sam and Watson.

“I was just telling the sergeant here that we haven’t had a chance yet to look for his buddy’s stuff,” said Sam under the cover of Kuran’s story.

“He had a class ring — I’d like to send that back to his folks. The rest of the stuff — that we took from the other boys — is hidden back in the caves. Toothless knows where.”

“Listen,” Kane interrupted. “Suppose you tell us more about your crash. That was what we were really sent out here for, Sam and I, to hunt planes which had disappeared in these parts during the war and see if there were any survivors. So give us the works — ”

“You were? Great guns, the war must really be over if they’re starting to look for us missing guys! That’s swell! Our plane was the Vigilante — ”

“Capt. Rodney Safield, pilot,” cut in Sam. “So this is it, Dutch, the end of our trail — ”

“He means,” Kane explained to the bewildered
Watson, “that we were sent after your plane. You see, Safield’s father is a millionaire, and he thought his son might still be alive. He’s backing this little jaunt of ours.”

“The captain got his when the Jap flak clipped our wings. He never knew what hit us. Jerry Conway, he was co-pilot, nursed her along. We thought we might have a better chance over the little islands than where the Japs were so plentiful. They must’a got Jack Kaproski with the same burst which knocked off the captaia Jack was bombardier.

“Anyway, we limped along, Jerry nursing her. She was a gone goose, though, and we knew we didn’t have a chance of getting back. So when we sighted this island and we couldn’t see any signs of Japs, Jerry ordered us to hit silk. Well, Pete got away, and I did, and so did Dan, he was a waist gunner.

“But Larch, our navigator, got fouled up some way and was dragged down with her, and I guess Jerry didn’t try at all. We never did find out what happened to the other guys.

“She came straight in to the lagoon, and I thought she was going to smack into the mountain. But she didn’t — it was queer, she dug into the water, ramming her nose right into the reef. We got ashore somehow, lucky we three could swim. And Pete did some diving so in a couple of days we got Jerry and the captain out and buried them. The captain’s papers are hid with our stuff. And Pete wrote out a sort of report we all signed so — well, so if we weren’t ever found ’til too late somebody might learn what had happened to us. He sealed everything up and made old Toothless and all his principal men swear they’d give it to the first man who came looking for us — if one ever did.”

“The only thing I don’t understand,” said Kane, “is what you were doing on the Vigilante. We were given a full list of the crew, and there’s no Sgt. Tucker Watson
on it.”

Watson grinned ruefully. “That’s just luck — don’t know whether to say good or bad. I changed with Shorty Dulesberg at the last minute. I was a replacement, see. Our ship, the Fighting Polecat, washed out after the last run. Boy, she was nothing but lace work; you could have thrown an elephant right through her — easy. So while we sat around waiting to see if they could patch her up again, we substituted for guys in the other crates. Shorty had a bad eye, lid cut or something, and I went in for him. I didn’t know any of the guys very well then — ’course afterwards, well, Dan, Pete, and me got to know each other all right. I can even tell you what Dan had to eat for his birthday party the year he was ten — Yeah, we sure got to know each other then. So that’s why I wasn’t on your list.”

“Kane, Mamsaki!” Lorens was hailing them. Reluctantly the two Americans joined the other group in time to hear van Bleeker say, “So already the government is cutting in? Very well, let them take the prisoners — as for this loot — perhaps the laws of salvage may apply — ”

Abdul Hakroun laughed. “Oh, there will be some compensation for our efforts, my friend, never fear. Does not your own ‘Book of Books’ say that ‘the laborer is worthy of his hire’?”

“What’s up?” Kane asked Lorens.

“A radio message has come from Besi — a destroyer put in there and heard our earlier message. She is sailing to us now.”

“She’ll be useful for rounding up pirate ships homeward bound,” Sam pointed out. “Only I foresee a lot of snooping around and questions being asked. Somehow I don’t think that these little private wars are welcomed by the authorities. Also, what about that collection of sparklers you’re nursing? Aren’t they part of the loot?”

“The best part, perhaps. The European pieces were
probably a collection made by the Nazis for future insurance. It must go back to Europe where it can be identified. And what about those papers you were so quick to impound?”

Kane grinned. “Oh, we have someone who will be only too, too pleased to receive them as a coming-home present. This sort of thing is his favorite reading matter.”

“You’d better prepare to face a battle over them,” Sam cut in. “The red tape artists all like to prove that they can read. Only, I don’t want to face old Ironjaw without some little token of my esteem. His feelings are apt to be hurt — he’s rather touchy.”

Abdul Hakroun was inspecting the loot with a jealous eye, his Moros unpacking box and bale to view their contents. The
Sumba’s
men drifted unostentatiously off on side expeditions of their own which no one was untactful enough to question. So it came about that there were just Hakroun, van Bleeker, Lorens, and the Americans gathered in the cave. The Moro leader glanced around before he spoke in a low voice.

“I am a man of business, Capt. van Bleeker. And soon, when our naval friends arrive, we shall be occupied by great affairs and will have no time to speak of such matters. Therefore let us now deal with the problem of the pearl beds — ”

Van Bleeker struck a match to light a cigarette. His eyes were half closed, he had a lazy contented look about him. Only Kane, having seen him at trading before, mistrusted that pose.

“You propose?” The captain of the
Sumba
was almost indifferent.

“I propose to found a company to work together as good friends — even as we fought together to clear this place of stinking vermin. I have the divers to pluck the beds, you have an excellent supply ship, and you, Tuan,” the Moro nodded to Lorens, “have a place in the market
in which we must sell our wares. So let us work as one — we are all honest men.” His eyes held laughter, and Lorens’ smile answered it

“I have heard many things of you, Abdul Hakroun,” the Netherlander returned frankly. “But also I have been told that if you once give your word you hold to it against all the world.”

Hakroun tugged at his beard. “A merchant hopes for a bargain — that is his due. But between friends there is no bargain. Shall I swear it upon the Word of the Prophet?”

The two Netherlanders exchanged a swift glance. Van Bleeker snapped the ash off his cigarette.

“Three ways we divide?” he asked.

“If you wish. But there is the custom of your own people. Why not divide into many pieces — stock as you would call it.”