Wake of the Perdido Star (28 page)
Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online
Authors: Gene Hackman
“But it seems like the problem we need to solve before knowing how to release the air is knowing when to release it,” offered Jack.
Quince lit a match and made a dramatic production of blowing it out. “Lads,” he looked pointedly at Jack and Paul, “what we need is a damn canary down there.”
“Aye, Skip, the mines, eh? That's what yer thinkin'.” Mentor made the comment, leaving the lads unsure where their education had failed them.
“Canary?” Paul asked.
“Aye, these fellas as spent time in the isles around miners'll tell ya. They takes a canary and keeps it down there to let you know when the air goes bad.”
“How do they do that?”
“Why, the little bleeders stop singin' and lay down and die.”
“Presumably before the miners stop singin' and lay down and die.”
“Exactly, Paul, they're more sensitiveâ”
“But, Skipper.” Klett had warmed to the conversation. “Thars birds like 'em canaries 'ere in this island there is, but the little fellas would never make it down two fathom afore drownin'.”
“True enough. But maybe we can make our own canary,” said Paul, staring hard at Quince.
“Yer lookin at me wide-eyed as a hoot-owl, son. What's your problem?”
“Not an owl; I'm looking at a possible canary.”
Before Klett could interject that it wouldn't be right to keep Quince in the bell to see if he died, Quince smiled at Paul and said, “It's me pipe, eh? You're thinking my pipe might work somehow?”
“The match, Skipper,” Paul said. “What if we lit a candle and kept it down there? If the candle is more sensitive to the bad air than the divers, it will serve us as a superb canary.”
“But how do we knowâ”
“Indeed, how do we know the flame is more sensitive?” Paul's
mind was running now like a clipper before the wind, and his mates had to struggle to keep aboard. “Point of fact is, we don't. But I think I can do an experiment to find out.”
mind was running now like a clipper before the wind, and his mates had to struggle to keep aboard. “Point of fact is, we don't. But I think I can do an experiment to find out.”
“What about the candle using up the air?” Mentor asked.
“Don't think it's a problem, but we can check for that, too.”
Quince added, “Even if it does use up too much air, that's a problem that will correct itself. The damn thing'll go out and our divers will know it's time to leave.”
“It's going to be a big job lifting the whole bell just to put that candle in there,” offered Coop.
“Don't need to,” said Jack. “We'll stick the candle and matches in a cloth and cram it into the top of one of the air buckets the natives carry down. Instead of dumping the air, we can lift the bucket, still inverted, into the bell's air pocket and remove them without getting them wet.”
“Okay,” from Quince. “We're back to it then. How do we tell if the flame will go out before our divers collapse?”
All eyes to Paul.
“Gentlemen, please bring one of those wine casks that washed up the other day down to the beach, with some of our match and candle supply, and we'll engage in a scientific experiment.”
“Is it out yet?”
“Not yet, Skipper,” came Paul's reply.
Quince was seated regally on a rock, his empty pipe dangling from his mouth. Paul's voice emanated from an inverted wine cask, the bottom immersed in a foot of seawater and stabilized by the weight of several large rocks.
A small group of Belauran men watched silently, some chewing betel nut, others staring with arms folded, all as if they were witnesses to some bizarre alien ritual. On each turn of the minute glass Jack tapped the barrel if they hadn't heard recently from Paul.
In most instances the precaution proved unnecessary, as Le Maire couldn't contain himself a full minute before announcing his status, and that of the flame, to his fellows.
In most instances the precaution proved unnecessary, as Le Maire couldn't contain himself a full minute before announcing his status, and that of the flame, to his fellows.
Just after the twenty-eighth turn of the glass, Paul declared from inside that the flame was out. “I'm still okay, though I'm feeling a bit breathy.”
Eleven minutes went by before Paul rapped on the barrel from the inside and said, “Okay fellas, let me out.” Paul emerged from the barrel sweating profusely and a bit pale, pupils dilated from the dark. He squinted his eyes shut to the glare and announced in a high-pitched voice, “Boys, I believe we have a canary.”
“Bravo for Benjamin Franklin Le Maire,” yelled Jack.
T
HEY WERE READY for the big pushâan attempt at the trigger assemblies. The sense of urgency escalated when Quince explained that Jawa told them of Yatoo's wish for a retaliatory raid on Papalo, to be executed before another moon had passed. It was now imperative they have those firing mechanisms. Jack didn't relish the thought of engaging in another battle as ill-equipped as they had been the last time. They needed rifles. Quince convened a council of the men to discuss the issue. He explained that he had made a command decision on the spot, when Jawa arrived, to appoint Jack the Americans' warlord. That way he could remain appropriately aloof from the proceedings and convey his final decisions through Jack. This kept Quince on par with Yatoo, and he thought that was an important distinction to keep.
HEY WERE READY for the big pushâan attempt at the trigger assemblies. The sense of urgency escalated when Quince explained that Jawa told them of Yatoo's wish for a retaliatory raid on Papalo, to be executed before another moon had passed. It was now imperative they have those firing mechanisms. Jack didn't relish the thought of engaging in another battle as ill-equipped as they had been the last time. They needed rifles. Quince convened a council of the men to discuss the issue. He explained that he had made a command decision on the spot, when Jawa arrived, to appoint Jack the Americans' warlord. That way he could remain appropriately aloof from the proceedings and convey his final decisions through Jack. This kept Quince on par with Yatoo, and he thought that was an important distinction to keep.
The men signaled their approval. Young though he was, most thought it appropriate to see Jack placed in a position of command, particularly after the way he had comported himself during
the wreck and subsequent fighting. Even Smithers and Cheatum were silent on the issue in the face of the others' obvious support. Jack was touched by the men's vote of confidence but was unsure of himself. He knew the men saw him as a shrewd and bold fighter, but they didn't live with his dreams each night. In some ways taking life sickened him.
the wreck and subsequent fighting. Even Smithers and Cheatum were silent on the issue in the face of the others' obvious support. Jack was touched by the men's vote of confidence but was unsure of himself. He knew the men saw him as a shrewd and bold fighter, but they didn't live with his dreams each night. In some ways taking life sickened him.
Quince summarized his negotiation: in essence, he had agreed to let his men take part in a reprisal, since they had already agreed to help defend the villageâa preemptive strike against an obviously belligerent enemy of their hosts simply meant using offense as an aggressive defense. Paul, Coop, and Mentor were ambivalent about the decision, until Quince let Jack relate the stipulations they had put on the raid.
“I asked that there would be no torture of prisoners, no rape of women, and no ear or head trophies taken. I know our friends have a different view of life and warfare, but I simply can't abide cruelty to a beaten foe and don't think we need to give up on our principles. Jawa had agreed to all but the last. I figured that was the best we could do. I don't like mutilating the dead but it's not near as bad as torturing the living.... So what will it be men, yea or nay?”
After little discussion, the men agreed to the terms. Paul was the most reluctant. His final comment when he consented to a unanimous approval was, “When in Rome, I suppose . . . ”
When Jack worked from the bell, he felt on the fringe of some extraordinary realm, some blue nether land between the surface world of men and the black abyss haunted by creatures of endless night. The wooden device itself felt different now that a candle had been installed. He could see Klett, the perspiration and water forming a glistening film over his face. Sound too was different in the container as they rested together between dives; both loud and
intimate. Their voices sounded strangely resonant in the thick air, as if their vocal cords were tuned an octave higher.
intimate. Their voices sounded strangely resonant in the thick air, as if their vocal cords were tuned an octave higher.
This was to be a big day. The previous afternoon had provided great excitement when the five-fathom team found the gun barrels. They had been swimming by them for weeks, as it turned out. No one knew or remembered the fact they were in a wooden crate, as well as being wrapped in cloth and twine. The natives had looped a line around the unmarked box to get it out of the way of their search for tools, and it was raised to the surface.
On opening the box, the stunned Le Maire could only gasp, “The barrels, God's bloodâthe rifle barrels!” It was the only time he could recall seeing the pipe drop from Quince's mouth.
“Sweet Jesus, look at them,” Quince said in awe.
Mentor and Jack reverently removed each long tube from the box, as if handling priceless porcelain. Quick inspection by Jack confirmed that their immersion had caused no significant harm. The barrels were boiled in fresh water for more than an hour to loosen the oil and salt, then periodically removed and a cloth drawn through with a wire.
As Jack and Klett readied themselves for their undersea excursions, they knew the barrels were being attended to above and that Quince had Coop, Mentor, and Hansumbob whittling away at mangrove wood blocks to fashion stocks for the weapons. They would leave the forward portions, which accepted the trigger mechanisms, unfinished until they had the triggers in hand. Then they could custom-fit each of the flintlock trigger assemblies into one of the wooden stocks.
“I'm going to run a line to where I think I saw that sash,” Jack told Klett. “If I'm not back by the count of thirty, pull me back in.”
Klett nodded. The men knew that once they strayed from the barrel they were at considerable risk of not finding their way back, since their vision was blurred and it was impossible to guide the swimmer home with sound signals which they found couldn't determine direction underwater. Such an event could be highly
dangerous, as they usually expended their lungful of air by the time they turned for the bell. A complete miss would mean having to claw for the surface before they drowned. Although this had almost happened on several occasions, they had always found the bell. One time a support diver, seeing Shram searching for it, dropped his air bucket to guide his fellow villager to the wooden sanctuary.
dangerous, as they usually expended their lungful of air by the time they turned for the bell. A complete miss would mean having to claw for the surface before they drowned. Although this had almost happened on several occasions, they had always found the bell. One time a support diver, seeing Shram searching for it, dropped his air bucket to guide his fellow villager to the wooden sanctuary.
Jack took the bitter end of the line and dropped through the rim of the bell, slowly making his way across the bottom. The more deliberate his movements, it seemed, the longer he could hold his breath. He used familiar bottom features to guide him to the sash. A clump of large, lettucelike coral to the left; next, a rock that, when used as a handhold, had something under it that burned his wrist, much like a jellyfish sting. Finally, the wreckage itself loomed about him and he swam three kicks to the right and over a collapsed bulwark to regain the crew's quarters, where he'd seen the sash. On this trip he noted a white canvas bag with rope weaved through itâone of the other men's kits.
Knowing his time was almost up, Jack decided to loop the line from the bell over a sturdy timber before being yanked unceremoniously back, and fashioned a quick bowline knot to secure it. Almost instantly it grew taut, the sign that Klett was applying his considerable strength to bring Jack in. Hand over hand, Jack made his way down the line, amazed at how soon he had recovered the distance to the bell. He wondered why it had taken so long for them to think of this obvious technique.
Since the line was secure to the wreck, Jack told Klett to have a go at grabbing the kit spotted on Jack's last trip. Meanwhile, Jack would drop to the bottom, under the bell, and secure the home end of the line to a coral head. That way it didn't have to be held by a diver.
Moments later Klett burst through the bottom of their wooden air pocket and gasped for air. “Got it, and blimey, I think it has boots in it.” Jack's spirits soared. Now they were getting
somewhere. After all their efforts, the barrels yesterday, the shoes today, and a line laid toward the grand prizeâthe triggers.
somewhere. After all their efforts, the barrels yesterday, the shoes today, and a line laid toward the grand prizeâthe triggers.
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