West from Singapore (Ss) (1987) (5 page)

Years before, in the States, Ponga Jim had been climbing a mountain. Pulling his head over the edge of a great, flat rock, he had found himself staring into the ugly eyes of a rattlesnake. That snake's eyes had been blank like these.

Ponga Jim looked at Pete and grinned insolently.

"What are you doing in Borneo? I thought they were putting a bounty on rats."

Pete Lucieno's eyes narrowed. "At least my ships have cargoes," he said softly. "They don't lie rusting at the dock."

"Yeah? Some people will carry anything for money. But you can have that stuff. I've got my own cargo. Sailing tomorrow for Amurang, Menado, and Wahai."

"Where?"

Sag Dormie leaned forward intently. Jim noticed that Pete's eyes were eager. "Taking the Molucca Passage?" "You bet! Want to come along? There's always room for rats in the bilges." Even as Jim watched Sag, he sensed the real danger was in the placid, fleshy man beside him.

Sag's hatchet face twisted into a sardonic smile.

"Through the Molucca Passage? I want to live a few years yet!"

"You are too sure of yourself, Captain," Lucieno said, his beady eyes gleaming from under his brows. "What of the Silver Lady?"

"Cap Marlin was my friend," Ponga Jim said coldly. "He was sunk. I only hope the guys who got him come after me."

He brushed by them and strode along the road. There was work to do and a cargo to load before daybreak. Yet he was uneasy. It had been only a matter of weeks since he had thrown Pete Lucieno for a loss by preventing the landing of munitions on the coast of New Guinea. Lucieno would never forgive that. What was more natural than that he should know of this threat that hung over the masts of British and Dutch shipping? Who else would dare locate a submarine base in the islands?

Jim walked up the gangway. A slim, dapper young Chinese stepped from the shadows behind the companionway. "Captain Mayo? I am Li Wan Chuang. I have been informed you would transport some cargo for me. I took the responsibility of ordering it on the docks in readiness."

"Yeah-okay," Jim said, startled. "You surprised me. Chinese in these waters don't often speak good English. On second thought, neither do the white men."

"I went to the University of California for two years and took it very seriously.

Then I went to the University of Southern California for two years. Now I take nothing seriously."

"We're going to get along," Ponga Jim grinned. "Do you know the chance we're taking?"

Li nodded. "But I must make delivery at once. And you have a reputation for getting results, Captain Mayo."

"It'll take more than that," Jim said crisply. He spun on his heel. "Mr. Millan!

Get those hatches open and tell Haynes to power the winches."

It was hours later when he went below. The Semiramis was already dipping her bow into the heavy seas. The deck was still a confusion of lines and gear. It was going to be good to lie down. And he'd need all the rest he could get.

Opening the door, he stepped into his cabin. The wind caught the door, jerking it from his hand. He turned and pushed it shut.

When he looked around again, he stared into a gun muzzle. Beyond Sag Dormie, Pete Lucieno and the other man were sitting on a couch.

Jim hesitated. It was only for the flicker of an eye, but he found there wasn't a chance to shoot it out. Sag had him covered, yet was out of the line of fire of Lucieno and the big man. Ponga Jim relaxed.

"Visitors, I see. Just where do you boys think you're going?" "Dussel thought this would be a good way to go to-to Menado," Sag said. "So we moved in when you weren't looking. I've been wanting to see how tough you were." He struck suddenly, smashing the back of his hand across Jim's lips.

Ponga Jim felt something burst inside and then dribble away, leaving him cold with anger. But Sag Dormie's gun was steady, and he did not move. Lucieno had a gun out, too. Mayo tasted blood in his mouth. He started to lift his hand to his mouth. The gun butt was just inside his coat "He's got a gun, Sag," Lucieno said. "In a shoulder holster. He carries it so always."

Sag jerked the gun from Mayo's holster and stuck it in his belt.

"I'll handle this. You won't need a gun anymore, Captain Ponga Jim Mayo."

Dussel moved his big body, and the settee creaked.

"You are to proceed as if nothing has happened, Captain Mayo," he said. "You will go to Amurang, discharge cargo there, and then go on to Menado. I trust you will be discreet. Otherwise it might be necessary to take steps."

"You think you'll get away with this?" Jim queried casually. "You got to go topside sometime. What happens when the crew finds out?"

Dussel smiled, his pulpy flesh folding back like sodden dough. "They know already.

The last two cases you hoisted aboard contained my men. By now they have taken command.

Your crew will do the work. My men will superintend it. Job Dussel does not make mistakes."

"I wonder about that. Do you think I'm going to take this lying down? And when this is over, what happens?"

"It is immaterial to me how you take this. When this is over, you and your ship will lie at the bottom of the Molucca Passage." Dussel's voice was utterly final. For the first time in his life, Ponga Jim felt a rush of desperation. His eyes met Dussel's and fastened there. In the gross, white body before him was cold brutality, a ruthlessness almost reptilian.

This man would stop at nothing.

Ponga Jim pushed the cap back on his head and slipped his thumbs behind the broad leather belt.

"Nothing to lose, eh?" he said. "I like it that way, Herr Dussel. You guys can pilot this ship. These are dangerous waters. But if I get knocked off anyway, what's it to me?"

Dussel's heavy-lidded eyes gleamed.

"I thought you would understand, Captain. You will obey orders carefully. You have heard of the Malay boot, Captain? It is child's play to some of the tortures I could use. If you don't obey-" He smiled. "But you will."

Ponga Jim shrugged. "You win."

Job Dussel's face remained folded back in a flabby smile. Turning, Ponga Jim went topside. Daylight had come, and the sun was sparkling on the choppy sea. Thoughtfully, he climbed the companionway to the wheelhouse.

Slug Brophy, his chief mate, was standing watch. His tough, hard-bitten features were surly. In either wing of the bridge lounged a man with a Luger automatic. There was another in the wheelhouse. When Jim walked into the chart room, the man followed to the door, standing aside to let Brophy enter.

"Keep everything quiet, Slug," Jim said. "We hold this course until we get out of the strait. We're calling at Amurang and Menado before we make the Molucca Passage, then south to Wahai."

Ponga Jim paused. The guard was still standing in the door. Jim's finger touched the chart.

"I expect Herr Dussel to take over after we get into the passage." Jim touched the chart again, and his voice was precise. "We'll have to be careful right here. It's a bad spot, where things usually happen. Until then it should be plain sailing. "

Slug nodded. "Okay, Cap. I get it."

The days were bright and sunny. The old Semiramis rolled along over the sea, doing her ten knots without a hitch. The crew moved carefully.

Ponga Jim slept on the settee in the chart room. No further words were spoken. Yet he knew the crew was ready and waiting. But they didn't get a chance. Herr Dussel remained below, usually in conference with Lucieno.

Sag Dormie was wearing two guns openly now, and there were ten armed white men. Slowly Ponga Jim's spirits ebbed, but he continued to watch. There was bound to be a break.

It was almost midnight, and he was to go on watch. He swung his feet down from the settee. Pulling on his wovenleather sandals, he heard the lookout sound the bells, warning of a ship to starboard.

Instantly he was on his feet. He could see the squat, powerful mate on the bridge.

Not far away, the two guards engaged in low-voiced conversation. The guard in the wheelhouse was nodding against the bulkhead. It was one chance in a million, and Jim took it.

His hand groped for the switch controlling the light on the topmast. He began switching the light on and off, his eyes intent on the topmasts of the approaching ship.

LI WAN CHUANG, BALIKPAPAN, ENEMY ABOARD GET WORD M. W. A. SIGNED MAYO.

He was sending the message the second time when one of the guards saw the flickering light. As the guard leaped from the deck of the wheelhouse, Jim slammed a vicious right to his chin. He toppled back. Just as the two guards jammed in the port door, Jim sprang out. A bullet shrieked after him. He went down the companionway and crashed into Herr Dussel, just issuing from the captain's cabin.

Mayo hurled a terrific right at Dussel, and missed. A smashing right sprawled him to the deck. He sprang to his feet, amazed at the huge man's astonishing speed. Jim stabbed out with a wicked left. He might as well have hit a wall. A powerful blow struck him on the chin, and he rolled back against the bulkhead. Before he could get in the clear, two more vicious punches hit him.

Staggering, Jim tried to crouch. An uppercut jerked him erect. A lightninglike right cross sent him spinning. Dussel followed, for a killing punch. Jim struggled to his feet, rolled away, and then circled warily.

He wanted to tear into the giant, battle him to the wall, and beat him down. But there was no time for that. Even if he won, there were the other men.

Job Dussel was crowding him into a corner. Jim backed away carefully. Suddenly he reached back and grabbed the rail. He kicked out viciously. The blow caught Dussel in the chest, staggering him across the deck.

With the agility of a panther, Jim leaped over the rail to the main deck.

He landed running. A bullet smashed into the hatch coaming nearby. Another one whipped by his ears. He threw himself to the deck, landing on one shoulder. He rolled over to momentary safety behind a winch.

Something hard lay under his hand-a wooden wedge used for battening a hatch. The sky had clouded over, and a few spattering drops of rain were falling. In the glare of occasional lightning, he could see four men with rifles on the bridge. Two more were on the captain's deck, where he had battled Dussel.

Coming forward were Sag Dormie and three thugs. Behind him was the tightly battened number one hatch. Beyond that was the forecastle, and above it the forecastle head, and nothing else but a spare ventilator lashed to the steam-pipe housing and a small hatch into the forepeak. Of course there was the anchor winch. But he couldn't see a possible hiding place.

Instinctively Jim knew these men were out to kill him. Crawling to his feet, grasping the wedge, he waited. At a distant flash of lightning, he hurled the wedge. He had the satisfaction of hearing the solid smack of wood against flesh. A gun roared, but it was a chance shot. He knew he hadn't been seen.

He reached the forepeak and waited tensely. Aft, on the bridge, he heard Dussel roaring.

"Go ahead, you fools! He's not armed!"

It was only a matter of minutes. He was trapped. The forepeak was a hole without exit. Behind him was the bow, dipping slightly with the roll of the ship.

He heard a moan on the ladder to port and then one to starboard. He crouched. A thought struck him. He crept close to the rail. He heard two men reach the forecastle head on the port side, not twenty feet away. Someone else was just stepping from the companionway, even closer.

Ponga Jim knew he could hesitate no longer. He crawled through the rail and lowered himself over the side of the ship. The bow dipped. For an instant he felt a wave of panic.

Clinging desperately, he grabbed through the hole of the bow chock. A slip meant a plunge into the dark waters below. He shifted his other hand to the chock and then lowered himself onto the flukes of the anchor.

It was a wild gamble, but his only chance. He thanked all the fates that the Semiramis was blunt-bowed. A light flashed on, off, and then on again.

Lows L'AMOUR

"Chief!" Dormie shouted, his voice incredulous. "He's gone. He's disappeared!"

"Search the forepeak, you damned numbskull!" Dussel roared. "If that devil gets away, I'll kill you. Search the forecastle, too."

Crouching on the flukes of the anchor, Ponga Jim waited tensely. The old barge would soon be dipping her bows under. After that his time would be short. Feet pounded on the deck. He heard the men cursing.

"Maybe he slipped past," Dormie grumbled. "It's dark enough. He couldn't hide here."

A wave splashed over Ponga Jim's feet. The bow dipped and black water swept over him. He clung to the anchor, shivering.

Minutes passed. Feet mounted the ladder again. He heard a man muttering. Then the fellow walked across the deck and stood by the bulwark overhead.

Another sea drenched Jim to the skin. He clung to the flukes, trying to keep his teeth still. The ship gave a sickening lunge. His feet fell clear, and for a moment he hung clear as the bow lifted. Then lightning flashed.

As he pulled himself up, he saw a man leaning over the bulwark. It was Longboy, one of his own crew.

With a roar, a huge sea swept over Jim. The Semiramis lifted her bow.