02 South Sea Adventure (8 page)

They came to a European-style house in a garden of orange and lemon trees, mangosteens, pomegranates, and peacock palms.

The man flung open the door and took Crab into a musty parlour. Two Ponapean servants promptly appeared - a woman who arranged the chairs and a man who asked in broken English whether master would like to have drinks. ‘Get out of here!’ roared the big man. ‘Get out, both of you!’ He helped them with a push or two and slammed the door after them.

‘Dirty scum!’ he said savagely. ‘Curse their brown hides. If I was Uncle Sam I’d wipe ‘em all clean off the island.’

He motioned Crab to sit down and took a chair facing him. He drew it close and leaned forward until his eyes were not two feet from Crab’s. His hunched back gave him the appearance of a crouching lion about to spring.

‘All right, out with it!’ he snapped. ‘Did you get the bearings?’

Crab could hardly breathe. He must stall for time. ‘It was a hard job you gave me. I did my best. I listened in on him and his kid brother too but they never said anything. I went through all their things …’

‘Never mind all that. Did you get the location of the island?’ ‘Can’t say that I did but…’

He got no farther. A crashing blow from the big man’s fist spun his head backwards, overturned his chair, and left him in a half-conscious heap on the floor. He got up shakily, dabbing at his bleeding nose. ‘You’ll be sorry for that, Kaggs.’

‘You threaten me?’ said the man called Kaggs, looming over Crab like a cliff about to fall upon his head. Looking down. Crab saw that the big man’s hand held a revolver. He dropped back.

‘1 didn’t mean anything, Mr Kaggs.’

For which he got a clout on the head with the butt of the gun. ‘Shut up! Don’t use my name. I don’t intend anybody to know me here.’

‘Not know you? Why everybody knows you’re the biggest pearl trader from Thursday Island to the Sulu Sea.’

‘Down there they know. Not up here. Nobody thinks pearls up here. And these navy kids - what do they know about the Pacific? Most of them are just fresh out of school.’

‘So if you aren’t Merlin Kaggs - the crookedest pearl trader south of the equator - just who are you?’

The big man straightened slightly and nearly allowed a smile to take over his face. ‘I am, if you please, the Reverend Archibald Jones. I am a missionary of the Go-Ye-Forth Church of America. I have flown here from San Francisco bearing glad tidings to the heathen of these benighted islands.’

Crab snorted. ‘How can you make anybody believe you’re a missionary? You, with two murders and a spell in San Quentin to your credit!’

‘You’d be surprised, my friend. Even the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose. You see, my old man was a clergyman. I went to Sunday-school until it came out of my ears. I can quote the Bible like nobody’s business. Perhaps my quotes aren’t always letter perfect, but who’s going to know that? My folks even started to make a preacher out of me. And don’t you believe I wouldn’t have made a good one. In prison I supplied the pulpit when the Reverend wasn’t able to make it. I did pretty well too. No complaints from the parishioners.’

‘But why the masquerade?’ Crab inquired.

Kaggs’ good humour disappeared. ‘You ought to know,’ he growled. ‘I suspected you’d flop on this job. So I had to be ready to take over.’

‘You mean you’re going to play up to Hunt?’

‘Sure. He’s a good, God-fearing young man. He’ll appreciate a gentleman of my qualities. I’ll find a way to get what I want out of him. Don’t forget that I know a lot already. I had the place wired. I heard every word he and Stuyvesant said to each other. Only trouble is, they were mum about the bearings. Then I followed his visitors when they went away. Out into the country, to the Hunt Animal Farm. That’s how I learned their name was Hunt. From there on it was easy - just a job of follow-up. And if you’d done your part of it right we’d be in the clover now.’

He slipped his revolver back into the shoulder holster under his coat and motioned Crab towards’ the door. ‘You can get along now. I’ve no more time to waste on you.’

But Crab did not move. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ ‘Forgetting what?’ ‘To pay me.’

Kaggs bristled. ‘Pay you - for what? You made a botch i of it. For all I know you got Hunt suspicious. I ought to charge you - not pay you. Now get out of here before I break you in two.’ He made a lunge at Crab.

‘I’ll go,’ whined Crab, making for the door. Only when he had opened it and stood halfway out of it did he feel safe to say, ‘You’ll be sorry. Don’t forget I can spoil your little game. I’m going to see Hunt right now.’

Kaggs’ face darkened as his hand moved instinctively towards his gun. But it stopped halfway. Kaggs was thinking fast. Crab was right - he could spill the beans. Kaggs must stop him, but how? A killing in broad daylight wouldn’t do. A hundred people would hear the shot. Even if he paid Crab something he couldn’t be sure that the sneak would keep his mouth shut. No, there must be a better way.

His crafty face took on a look that was almost genial. ‘Come to think of it,’ he said, ‘guess I’ve been a little too hard on you. After all, you did your best. No man can do more. Okay, I’ll play ball with you. And I’m going to start right now by treating you to drinks. Come with me.’

Crab regarded this sudden change of heart with suspicion, but the appeal of flowing liquor was too much for him.

He accompanied Kaggs. They returned to the mam street, then branched off towards the bluff. Crab grew apprehensive for they seemed to be going straight towards the house occupied by the Hunt party.

But across the road from the house was a small liquor shop, and here Kaggs turned in.

He pushed through a group of Ponapean men resting under the trees after their early morning fishing and entered the door of the shop. A seedy-looking white man was behind the counter.

‘Tony,’ said Kaggs, ‘here’s a good friend of mine. Just arrived. I want to treat him to a drink. A lot of drinks.’

‘Always glad to serve,’ said Tony. ‘I know how you feel. Must be nice to have a visitor in this God-forsaken place.’

‘Makes me want to celebrate,’ said Kaggs, glancing out of the window. ‘I’d like my friend to have a real party. Crab, invite those fellows in. We’ll set ‘em up for everybody.’

‘You can’t do that.’ said Tony hastily. ‘It’s against the law to likker up the brown people.’

‘The law!’ scoffed Kaggs. He produced a wad of paper money and waved it in Tony’s face. ‘Here’s the law. Invite ‘em in, Crab.’

Crab had no interest in entertaining Ponapeans, but if Kaggs wanted to pay for it, why not? He stepped out of the door and motioned to the men. He raised an imaginary glass to his lips. The fishermen were not slow in crowding into the shop.

Liquor is like dynamite to a Ponapean. Even without it he is one of the most warlike of Pacific islanders. With it, he goes wild. Because of this fact the sale or gift of liquor to natives was strictly forbidden.

‘There’s only one way I can do this,’ said Tony to Kaggs. ‘I can sell the liquor to you - and you’ll have to take the responsibility for giving it to the Ponapeans.’

‘Sure.’ said Kaggs heartily. ‘Say twenty dollars’ worth of your hottest stuff. Here, Crab, it’s your party,’ and he pressed a twenty-dollar bill into the seaman’s hand. Crab passed it over to Tony.

‘Okay,’ said Tony. ‘Now if you’ll just sign this receipt.’

‘For what?’ grumbled Crab.

‘For the liquor - just to show I sold it to you. That puts me in the clear.’

Crab, anxious to get on with the real business of drinking, signed the receipt. He looked around for Kaggs, but the gentleman had disappeared.

Two hours later Hal and Roger were distracted from their contemplation of the beauties of nature by wild shouts on the other side of the house.

Captain Ike had gone back to the ship. Omo was in the kitchen exercising his skill as a cook. ‘Omo,’ called Hal. ‘Go out and see what’s doing.’ Omo went out. He came back in a moment to announce breathlessly, ‘A riot. Crab He’s been arrested.’

Hal and Roger tumbled out into the road. A dozen drunken Ponapeans milled about. Two were bleeding from knife wounds. Far down the road they saw Crab reeling in the firm grip of two naval police.

At one side of the road stood a tall man with a slight hunch in his back. He held a black book in his hand.

He strolled over to join Hal. ‘Very unfortunate incident,’ he said. ‘Very unfortunate.’ His pitying gaze embraced the group of befuddled Ponapeans. ‘What happened?’ asked Hal.

‘That seaman plied them with liquor. A violation of the laws of God and man. Only another of the many afflictions that have been visited upon the innocent folk of these lovely islands!’

Hal looked after the retreating form of Crab. ‘Who notified the police?’ he asked.

‘I did,’ said the stranger. ‘I considered it my duty as a citizen and as a missionary.’

Hal noticed that the small black book in the man’s hand was a Bible. How fortunate that the Ponapeans had a man of this sort to defend their interests.

‘What will he get for it?’ he asked.

‘Too little,’ sighed the missionary. ‘Perhaps sixty days in jail - then possibly deportation to the States.’

Hal’s impulse was to go to Crab’s aid. Then he reflected that nothing better than this could possibly have happened. Crab was his enemy. He was in the plot against him and Professor Stuyvesant. So long as he was on the loose he was dangerous. In jail he could do no more harm. This was a stroke of luck.

‘I hope it’s a good jail,’ he said.

‘None better. He’ll get a good bed and good food. It’s more than he deserves.’

Hal extended his hand. ‘I’m Hal Hunt. We just got in today on the Lively Lady. Pretty badly banged up by the hurricane.’

‘Indeed!’ said the stranger sympathetically as he took Hal’s hand. ‘My name is Jones. Reverend Archibald Jones.’

‘You have a church in Ponape?’

‘No - I too have just recently arrived. My ministry will not be in this island. There are already ministers and churches here. I feel that my call is to the small outer islands where the people have never had the opportunity to hear the Word. I am just now trying to arrange for transportation.’

‘You expect to charter a boat?’

‘Not exactly. My society would not wish to incur that expense. My hope is to find someone else who is making such a trip and go along as a passenger.’

‘Which direction do you want to go?’

‘North, south, east, west, it makes no difference. Where ever there are islands, there are people who need our message. But enough about me. Tell me of yourself - will you be staying in Ponape?’

‘No,’ said Hal. ‘I’m planning a trip too,’ and felt like a heel because he did not go on at once to invite this kindly missionary to be his passenger. Caution held his tongue.

The Reverend Mr Jones did not press the matter. In fact Hal thought he showed rare delicacy. He said, ‘I hope you will have a pleasant visit in Ponape, and a good trip. And now I must go. I am expected at the sick-bed of one of my native friends.’ He shook hands again and was off.

A pretty good fellow, thought Hal. Decent of him not to try to worm his way into my party when he learned we were going to the islands. Evidently a man of some education. And he talked just like a missionary, thought Hal, who had rarely heard a missionary talk. What a big, powerful fellow - but I suppose a missionary has to be pretty strong to stand that sort of life. And pretty smart too. This fellow looked smart - almost shrewd. Well, I suppose a missionary has to be shrewd to get the natives to do what is good for them. I’ve heard that a missionary down here has to be able to do almost anything - build a house, plant a farm, give people business advice, repair a motor, heal the sick. This man seemed equal to all that and more. He looks as if it would take a lot to stop him. I wish I could help him. But I can’t - at least not until I know more about him.

And Kaggs’ mind also was busy as he trudged off to the supposed bedside of his supposed sick friend: He’s a fine young man. But the finer they are the harder they fall. I can twist him around my finger like a string. And Crab - ha! ha! - what a fool! I’ve put him where he can’t make any trouble. Now I’ll let nature take its course. In a few days this good-hearted young fellow is going to invite me to take a trip with him to the islands. His mind ranged far ahead. He would learn the location of the pearl island by going there. Then he would somehow get Hal and his brother out of the way. Something would happen to them. He would fix it so that it would look like an accident. No one would ever be able to pin anything on him. He’d go back to the island with a pearling lugger, clean out the bed, dispose of the shell locally and take the pearls to New York and London. Every year he made it a practice to visit both cities to sell the pearls he had bought in the South Seas. He knew all the important jewellers. Nothing happened in the pearling industry, either in the South Seas or in the cities, that he did not learn about. He had known of Stuyvesant’s project very early - when he had been in Celebes and the ship bearing the professor’s, Persian Gulf specimens had stopped there for supplies on its way to Ponape. He needed only one detail more - the position of the island.

Now he settled down comfortably to wait for Hal Hunt to present him with this information. Surely the young man would not refuse a helping hand to a poor faithful old missionary!

‘We have a boat for you,’ announced Commander Tom Brady, calling upon the Hunts the next morning. With him he brought two smartly uniformed young men whom he introduced as Lieutenants Rose and Connor. ‘It’s not a very big boat - a thirty-footer.’ That’s big enough,’ Hal said. ‘How about the motor?’

‘A good Hakata motor - made in Japan. You see, the boat is one of a fleet the Japs brought down for bonito fishing. Now it belongs to a native fishing guild - they’ll let you use it for a modest fee.’

‘What accommodation?’

‘A cabin with four bunks. A galley. And a fishy smell.’

‘It’s a deal,’ grinned Hal.

‘I suppose,’ said Brady to Captain Ike, ‘you’ll be going along as navigator.’