The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales

by Robert E. Howard

  The preparations for the trip ashore were made hurriedly, while the prau waited at the ladder and the natives traded more fruit and fish, with some fresh meat. Captain Hollinger and Swanson dressed in khaki, with sun helmets and leggings, and at the last moment one of the Scotch engineers volunteered to accompany them. So he was given an outfit also, and the three men furnished themselves with the small-bore Austrian army rifles, whose cordite bullets possessed terrific power.

  Jerry said that all arrangements were made for their welfare in the village, and that tents were unnecessary as the natives could build thatch huts in half an hour while on the trip, so the impedimenta of the party was light. Canteens and cartridge belts were donned, medicine cases, mosquito nets, binoculars and blankets stowed away, and the three men shook hands with the two boys. Jerry said that the natives were even then making ready a huge barbecue in the village, which was half a mile up-river, so without pausing for noon mess the hunters departed.

  They took both trading goods and money with them, in order to make payments to the natives, and when they stepped down into the prau and the Malays shoved off, the boys led the crew in three hearty cheers. Out flashed the long Malay sweeps, and with final shouts ringing over the water, the prau swiftly moved off toward the river mouth. Mart and Bob watched the three stalwart khaki-clad figures standing erect amid the brown men, and followed the prau with their glasses until it was lost around the first projection of the river bank Bob little dreamed what would transpire before he was to see his father’s face again!

  The officers’ mess was sadly depleted that noon, only Jerry, the boys, and the Scotch engineer remaining. By this time the old quartermaster had openly announced his intention of getting after the Pirate Shark, so the boys had no hesitation in broaching the subject and asking his plans.

  “Well,” returned Jerry, gazing mildly at the engineer, “first off, we’ll lay the yacht over that there wreck I was tellin’ you lads about—you mind that wreck, lads, eight fathom down? Rock bottom it is, coral rock, down there among the fish. When we lay over her, all shipshape an’ Bristol fashion, then we’ll look about for that there Pirate Shark. He’s down there, lads—down there among the fish, lads, eight fathom down!”

  “I’ll bet he ain’t,” interposed Mart. “Prob’ly Bob’s bullet through his fin sent him out of here into the deep water. It would me!”

  “Ah, but you ain’t no Pirate Shark, lad!” smiled Jerry, shaking his head. “He’s a cute un, he is.” With that Jerry turned to the Scotch engineer, who was no little astonished at the program, of which he had known nothing. “Now, sir, I’ll thank you to get the fires up a bit, as we’ll need steam to move. Best keep ’em banked, as we may finish off that there shark tomorrow and run up river after gold.”

  “How long will dad be ashore?” asked Bob, while the dazed engineer departed to look after his fires.

  Jerry chuckled. “Oh, several days, lads, several days! Now, we’ll break out that dynamite an’ then we’ll lay her over the wreck—eight fathoms down, and old Jerry the only man as knows. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales! You come to the bridge and watch old Jerry lay us over that there wreck!”

  This invitation the boys promptly accepted. The afternoon was hot, but Jerry seemed like a new man as he assumed command of the yacht, taking charge of the steam steering gear himself. As they could not get under way for some time, he set Birch to work with a few Kanakas breaking out the dynamite in the forward hold. Jerry was needed to identify the case in question, however, and soon went down to the deck for that purpose.

  Now happened an incident which in some measure served to open the eyes of both boys. Among the stores broken out from the hold was a barrel of beef which had gone bad. After Jerry had identified the case containing the dynamite, he ordered the Kanakas to fling the bad beef overboard, and started back to the bridge. The Kanakas had not fully understood the order, and thinking that the case of dynamite was indicated, they cheerfully picked it up and heaved it over the rail.

  Mart let out one wild yell, which was echoed by Yorke and Dailey, but nothing happened; the dynamite simply went to the bottom, the force of the shock not being sufficient to explode it. When Jerry comprehended what had happened, however, he was changed instantly from a mild, gentle-appearing old man into a raging maniac. He ran forward, his face terrible to see, and leaping into the crowd of Kanakas began striking right and left in mad fury.

  The white-faced boys saw Yorke catch hold of him, but Jerry sent the twisted-mouthed man reeling with a blow; not until Dailey and Birch flung themselves on him was he quieted. Then he once more became himself, but he had been struck a hard blow; he looked ten years older, as Mart commented below his breath.

  “No wonder,” said Bob commiseratingly. “Poor old Jerry—he’d been counting on that dynamite to blow up the Pirate Shark, Mart. Just the same, I guess my bullet sent Mr. Shark a-kiting out to the open sea.”

  Jerry climbed back to the bridge, vouchsafing no comment, but still trembling and muttering to himself. Calling down the tube, he found that the engineer had enough steam up to give the Seamew steerage way, and without further delay he ordered the anchor tripped and rang for half speed ahead.

  Slowly the yacht gathered way and swung about, pointing up past the island toward the channel beyond. Beyond this, again, the lagoon continued for a quarter-mile farther, in a rounded bay where little rock-points showed their jagged teeth. As they advanced, the water became deeper, shoaled again, then grew deeper beyond the channel; at last Jerry rang for reversed engines, the cable roared out, and the engines ceased.

  “Now, lads,” he said, “we’re over that there wreck. Let’s have a look.”

  They followed him eagerly enough to the deck, where already the crew were looking over the bulwarks. The water was wonderfully clear, but as it was forty feet deep here, they could make out nothing of the bottom. Just under their ladder and gangway, however, the quartermaster pointed out a deeper shadow of green, which he declared showed the position of the wreck.

  “We’ll send down a Kanaka in the morning,” he said. “And if that there ain’t the old wreck, lads, then Jerry Smith is a Dutchman!”

  “But what about the shark?” objected Bob stoutly. “You aren’t going to send down any men there, Jerry, with that shark hanging around. Not if I know it!”

  “Well, them Kanakas lost my dynamite, didn’t they?” snarled Jerry suddenly, his face sweeping into quick anger.

  “That’s no matter,” rejoined Mart. “You needn’t think we’ll stand for any men going down—”

  “Look ye here, lads,” and Jerry faced them solemnly. “Them Kanakas ain’t like us white men, d’ye see? First, they ain’t afraid o’ sharks. They take knives down an’ kill sharks for fun, like your father kills tigers. Then they swim like fish themselves, lads. If the sea hadn’t spoiled that there dynamite, they’d ’a’ brought it up as quick as it went down.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” answered Bob, “but there’s something about this whole business that I don’t like, Jerry. That’s flat. You deceived dad by not telling him about this Pirate Shark till we’d got here, and you haven’t told him about the wreck yet. All I can say is, you’d better play square, Jerry. When it comes to sending down any o’ those Kanakas to investigate your private troubles, and risking their lives, I’m not going to stand for it.”

  Jerry smiled softly, and gazed out at the sparkling waters of the lagoon.

  “Lads, I’m in command o’ this here ship,” he said quietly. “You’ve got nothin’ to say aboard her, by rule o’ the sea. But old Jerry ain’t that kind, lads—no, he likes ye both too much for that. Look here, Master Bob, we’ll not send down any men but them as volunteers to go, eh? If they want to go, all right; if they don’t, why, all right too! Ain’t that fair, now? Ain’t it?”

  Bob glanced at Mart, who made answer.

  “Yes, that’s fair enough, Jerry. I’ll tell the Kanakas myself about that Pirate Shark, and if they choose
to go down after that, it’s their affair. I don’t think he’s around here, myself; but in case that bullet didn’t send him out to sea with a hole in his fin, and if he really is the Pirate Shark, we’ll have to wait till the captain gets back, unless the men are perfectly willing to take the risk. You can order Dailey or Yorke to go down if you like.”

  At this last suggestion Jerry merely darted them a sharp look, and chuckled.

  “All right, lads, all right! We’ll see in the mornin’, lads. Eight fathom down she is, and fish tell no tales.”

  That night the boys discussed the situation with growing belief that Jerry was not quite so silly as he appeared. The sight of that immense black fin had established the fact that there was at least an enormous shark here; whether the wreck was also a fact or not was quite another thing.

  There might be a wreck there, indeed, and there was no good reason to doubt it. Jerry’s tale about its being an ancient galleon, however, was much too improbable to be accepted. However, the diving gear was overhauled that evening, and the boys looked forward eagerly to what was to happen next day.

  “I s’pose dad’s watching a native dance or something about now,” remarked Bob as the boys made ready to turn in. “Well, we’ll be after tigers ourselves in a few days, Mart.”

  “Mebbe,” rejoined Mart. “Wish, we hadn’t eaten those oysters this morning! I haven’t felt right since. Well, so long, Holly! See you tomorrow.”

  And if Mart felt any premonitions, he ascribed them to the oyster.

  CHAPTER XI

  THE STORM BREAKS

  “Hey, there! Wake up, Holly!”

  Mart pounded on his chum’s door again, as a sleepy answer came from within. The night mists had been gone for an hour, and the sun was flooding the lagoon with light and warmth, but Mart was more excited than the early hour warranted.

  “Hurry up there, Holly!” he urged, pounding again. “Get a move on! Something’s happened!”

  “What?” sounded the question.

  “Never mind till you see it. Get your duds on and get out here.”

  After thirty seconds more the half-dressed figure of Bob appeared at the door. Mart seized him by the arm and jerked him out. Bob stared in wonder, for Mart’s strong, determined face was filled with grief and anger.

  “What’s struck you, Mart?”

  “Come along and see.”

  With which enigmatic response Mart led the way forward and up to the bridge. Two of the Kanakas were on watch, but Mart passed direct to the wireless house, with the wondering Bob close behind.

  “Now, look at that,” exclaimed Mart, standing by the table and waving his hand toward the wireless outfit. “Look at it real close, Holly.”

  Bob advanced, puzzled. The silence cabinet in which was enclosed the transmitting apparatus, had been forced open, and even the unmechanical Bob could see at a glance that something had been disarranged, or worse.

  “Look at her!” exclaimed Mart bitterly. “Wires out and gone, and everything busted that would bust—why, they must have gone through her with an axe! Holly, this wireless was busted a-purpose, and someone aboard the Seamew did it!”

  “Is she badly smashed?” queried Bob, who was startled by the news without quite comprehending what it meant.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look yet. But say, Holly! Don’t you see what it means? There’s someone aboard here who wants to cut us off from connection with everything—and he didn’t know much about wireless, either. The aerials ain’t touched. Let’s see—”

  Mart began to investigate feverishly, but Bob stood transfixed as he finally realized what this destruction portended. Then, as he gazed down at the kneeling figure of his chum, his face flooded with anger and he turned and went out to the forward end of the bridge. The Kanakas were lolling below in the sun, and Bob woke them sharply.

  “Call all hands and send Mr. Smith here.”

  At the unwonted note of authority in his voice, the Kanakas jumped. Five minutes later the whole crew poured up, thronging the foredeck, while old Jerry came up to the bridge in mild astonishment.

  “Come back here,” ordered Bob briefly, in reply to his queries, and led the old quartermaster hack to the wireless house.

  “Now, Jerry,” he said, “last night someone broke in there and went through the wireless outfit with an axe. How about it, Mart! Much damaged?”

  “Clean smashed up, Holly,” groaned Mart from his position beside the cabinet, where he was investigating the helix. “Everything’s busted. She’s ruined.”

  “Get to work, Jerry,” commanded Bob curtly. “You’re responsible. Now find out who did it—”

  “How do you know it was done last night, lads?” inquired Jerry softly. “When was you up here last, if I may ask?”

  Bob glanced at Mart, who was rising. They found that neither of them had been up since early the previous morning when Mart had sent a message through the Nederland boat. At this Jerry suggested that one of the Malays had possibly stolen up while their prau was waiting alongside for the captain, the day before, and had stolen what he could find. The Malays had a fondness for wire, he went on to say.

  “Mebbe,” said Mart suspiciously. “You get busy and investigate here first. I don’t take much stock in your suggestions.”

  With an injured air, Jerry retraced his steps and put the crew through a stiff examination, but nothing was brought to light. It finally proved that the Malay explanation was the most plausible one, simply for lack of other evidence, and although Bob and Mart were both furious, they could do nothing. Once they were alone in the cabin, however, Mart winked mysteriously at his chum.

  “Say, Holly, I was putting up a bluff on you for Jerry’s benefit. That wireless ain’t wrecked, not by a jugfull! Whoever did it was too plumb ignorant to do the job right. I can fix her up, but it’ll take time. Now, you lay low and let on like she’s busted for good. If one o’ the men did it, and finds it ain’t busted, he’s liable to go after our aerials, which would sure dish things for us, see?”

  Bob nodded thoughtfully.

  “Good for you, Mart. Well, you wait an’ see what happens when dad gets back, that’s all I have to say.”

  He had no chance to say more, indeed, for a trampling of feet on the deck, and the sound of voices, apprised them that the diving was about to commence. They at once set aside all other thoughts, agreed to forget the wireless for the time being, and hurried on deck to watch operations. At Bob’s suggestion Mart brought along a couple of the thirty-thirty rifles, in case they should see any further signs of thePirate Shark.

  They had already made sure that the Kanakas knew the danger of diving here in the lagoon, but one and all the brown-skinned men had laughed at the very name of shark, patting their sheath knives and assuring the boys that they were used to killing sharks as a form of exercise. Size made no difference, it appeared, so the boys made no more objections.

  Four of the Kanakas had stripped and stood on the gangway landing, holding to lines and weights, while the rest of the crew clustered about the rail and Jerry gave them instructions as to depth and bottom and what to look for. Then the men grinned, put their knives between their teeth, and slipped off into the water.

  After a minute they reappeared, merely took breath, and vanished again. This time they were down well over a minute, then shot up to the surface together and piled on to the landing, their brown bodies glistening in the sun. The boys went down the ladder and joined Jerry in getting the reports of the divers.

  These all agreed that the yacht lay directly over an old wreck, which was so overgrown that it seemed little more than a huge rock. One of the men had brought up a sliver of wood in proof of the story, however, and at sight of it Jerry nodded, satisfied.

  “There she is, lads—eight fathoms down! Mystery o’ the sea, lads—mystery o’ the sea, and us up above here in the sun!”

  The boys kept a sharp lookout for the shark, but he was not to be seen, and the Kanakas declared there was nothing alarming
to be seen underneath the surface. Now it was that Jerry had Dailey and Birch bring down the diving outfits to the landing, and he briefly ordered the Kanakas to don them and go down.

  To the surprise of all, the Kanakas refused. They looked with some suspicion on the heavy boots and copper helmet, declaring that they felt safer without all these things and were perfectly willing to go down as often as was wished.

  At this Jerry carefully explained that such work would not do, that he wanted the wreck explored, and that it was necessary for a man to be down for a long period to do this successfully. The Kanakas still balked, however, and when Jerry grew furious and ordered one of them flatly to get into the diving dress, Bob interposed.

  “None o’ that, Jerry. The men are right. If you want someone to go down, pick out one of your own men—Birch or Dailey there.”

  The Scotch engineer, standing up above, burst out laughing. Birch promptly denied all interest in the wreck.

  “Not me, sir! I ain’t no diver, nor shark fighter neither. If anyone’s to go down, let the quartermaster go down, I says!”

  “That’s right,” grinned Mart maliciously. “You climb into one of the suits, Jerry! Mebbe your old friend the Pirate Shark is waiting for you to show up.”

  Jerry chuckled and wagged his white head in solemn refusal, while those above made fun of him unrestrainedly. Finally Jerry scratched his head and gazed up at the men lining the rail.

  “Dailey,” he ordered, “see to gettin’ out two o’ the boats. Yorke, you an’ Birch an’ Borden come down to the after cabin. I’ll learn ye who’s master aboard here!”

  He chuckled again, and beckoned to the boys to follow, which they did. Dailey ran to the bridge deck with a squad of Kanakas and as Mart went below he heard the davits creaking, and saw one of the boats descending to the water.