Robbie Taggart

by Michael Phillips

  Something ominous flickered through Pike’s eyes, but almost the same moment the ship lurched violently, reminding him sharply of their imminent peril and the utter futility of his personal vendetta at that moment. He gave a jerky, half-reluctant nod of his head to Digger, who swung hotly about in pursuit of Jenkins, angrier at having to take orders from the naval clown, as he still considered Robbie, than fearful of the sea’s power to take his life. Robbie watched him go, hoping he would be able to give himself fully to the tremendous battle that lay ahead of them.

  The seas washed out the forge several times, but Jenkins was a good carpenter. Despite his grumbling about the impossible conditions, eventually he managed to construct a fair substitute rudder. Then came the awesome and dangerous task of attempting to fit the huge, cumbersome instrument, measuring sixteen inches in diameter at its gunstock end, and a good four feet at its fullest width. Attaching it to wires and pulleys, manned by most of the men situated at various key positions, it was lowered over the stern of the ship.

  Huge combers continued to sweep over the poop, knocking the laborers sprawling. Eventually they arrived at a system of trying to anticipate the rhythm of the waves. In the ten to twenty seconds respite while lying in a trough, the men lowered the rudder before taking what refuge they could in preparation for the next crusher. The second it was past, they sprang again to action, lowering their cables farther, attempting with each successive effort to bring it a little closer to its final destination. Battling the wind and sea and a ship out of control, it took more than two hours to lower it into place. A slight lull in the onslaught of waves allowed Robbie, secured by multiple lines around his waist, to be lowered over the side, remove the broken rudder and afix the new one into place. It took several tries, and was not without great risk, as the waves could dash a human body to pieces against the side of the ship if Robbie failed to secure himself in advance. But between them he eventually set it in place, and when he yanked on the line and was raised back up onto the deck, a great cheer went up from the exhausted men of his crew.

  The storm beat on them another day, but the makeshift rudder held fast, and Pike decided to beat it past Manila, the nearest port, and chance a run to Shanghai with the present setup. In the night the makeshift rudder began to show signs of strain, and by the second morning was only barely doing the job. The Sea Tiger listed like a crippled bird, at the mercy of the unfriendly sea.

  It was time to reevaluate their course. The Cutty Sark had traveled eight thousand miles in a similar condition, but she had been commanded by a first-rate master. Robbie possessed no vaunted ideas about his own abilities, nor Pike’s. They had nearly a thousand miles yet to go—a small enough distance relative to the entire voyage of some eighteen thousand, but far enough with a malfunctioning vessel. They had already shipped the new rudder aboard once for repairs and strengthening, a demanding job when added to the grueling labor of handling the rigging during the final lashing tailwinds of the abating typhoon. The short-handed crew was exhausted, and Robbie feared he might have a mutiny on his hands if they had to ship the rudder even one more time. Nothing would have pleased Digger more, he was sure of that.

  He found Pike in his cabin, and with trepidation opened the door and went inside to confront the skipper. At first he had hoped he could broach the subject subtly, even making it appear it had originated with Pike.

  “We’re going to lose that rudder again,” said Robbie.

  “We’ll ship her aboard again,” replied Pike, as if it were no concern of his.

  “It’s wearing the men out.”

  “They’re a lot o’ lazy babies!”

  An angry return rose to Robbie’s lips. He had himself been skeptical of the crew when he first laid eyes on them, and half still resembled pirates at first glance. But they had proved themselves able sailors, and had labored remarkably for their ship. Two had given their lives. But this was no time for a confrontation with Pike. At the same time, there was now no further need to be subtle.

  “Listen, skipper,” he said, “Amoy isn’t that far from our present position—I think we can keep her going until then. But for another week . . . I just don’t know if she’ll last.”

  “We’re not putting in at Amoy,” replied Pike firmly.

  “What about Foochow then? Or even Hong Kong, though it would mean some backtracking.”

  “No.”

  Robbie well knew that Pike would never agree to a stopover in a port where his contraband cargo might be discovered. In Shanghai he had no doubt already cultivated connections, and more than likely had already made arrangements with his local people for the bribing of the customs officials in advance. It would be too great a risk for him to enter an unfriendly port with such a stash of guns aboard, not to mention the cost of having to pay out more bribes to new officials.

  Robbie rose to leave, seeing no further advantage to be gained from arguing the issue, when Pike got up slowly out of his chair and limped to a table where a map was lying.

  “Right here,” he said, tapping the map with his forefinger.

  Robbie approached the table and saw he was indicating a group of islands just north of Luzon in the Philippines. He did not know much about them, except they were notorious for their coral reefs and poor harbors. He said as much to Pike, who simply snorted his disregard for such practicalities.

  “There’s a spot,” said Pike mysteriously. “I remember it so well. During the Opium wars when we couldn’t get through with our cargo and sometimes had to dispose of it till things cooled down, we found a harbor, right here—”

  Again he indicated the map.

  “It ain’t great. But it’ll do the job. We can at least lay over long enough to fix the rudder proper.”

  Robbie sighed, relieved that he had been spared an unpleasant argument. If they didn’t crack up on the reefs, they still had a chance.

  He smiled to himself as he left Pike’s cabin. He was starting to sound like old doomsday Lackey!

  Later that night the winds began to abate. The worst appeared over, but heavy seas and strong winds continued to hamper them.

  When the lookout shouted Land Ho!, there was not a man aboard the Sea Tiger who did not rejoice.

  24

  Unscheduled Layover

  Fighting a headwind, it took the remainder of that night and most of the next morning before they had drawn close enough to the island to look for a suitable anchorage.

  The sea-surrounded strip of lava and earth could not have been more than ten miles long, and three or four miles across at its widest point. A narrow sandy beach was lined with coconut palms, but inland the island rose to a rugged height of over 2,000 feet of volcanic rock. With the storm now played out, Robbie could feel the tropical heat rising in the air. But there was still sufficient wind to carry them around to the northern side of the island. They dropped anchor about four furlongs out in a small natural harbor. If another typhoon sprang up, it offered little protection against the ship being blown to bits. But if the calm held, it should afford them what they needed.

  Robbie wasted little time. There was work to do, and he was anxious to explore this tiny piece of the world he was seeing for the first time. He had been to the Philippines, but never to any of her outer northern islands. One of the two remaining launches was lowered and half the crew embarked, including Robbie, Digger, Overlie, Newly, Drew, Jenkins, and Pike. The thought of leaving Lackey aboard, walking the decks with a captive audience, was not without humor, thought Robbie as they pulled away from the Tiger’s side. The small craft heaved up and down over the swells, but with each mighty pull on the oars, the island drew closer by degrees.

  “Is it deserted?” asked Drew.

  “Was twenty years ago,” said Pike. “Or so we thought.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” added Robbie. “But most of these islands have native tribes on them. Perhaps we’ll encounter some locals.”

  They beached the boat on the warm, white sands. All seven men—
even those who never allowed their emotions to show—stood still for a moment in a kind of awe. An intense quiet hung over the place, broken only by the dreamlike rustle of the leafy tops of the coconut palm trees towering a hundred feet overhead. A gentle breeze played across the beach, and it was impossible to imagine that only yesterday the same typhoon that had crippled their ship must have raged over this peaceful setting. Visual reminders of the storm lay strewn about, however—broken palm branches, scattered driftwood thrown ashore by the crashing waves, and one entire coconut tree fallen on the sand. But there was no sound now, as if the storm had washed all life from the island.

  Robbie felt strangely as if they were the only living creatures left in the world. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the ends of the waves against the sand, set in harmony against the breezes in the trees. Several of the men glanced back at the anchored ship, as if to assure themselves that they had indeed not been utterly abandoned and left to Crusoe’s fate.

  Suddenly a flurry of sharp screams and great chattering pierced through the silence. Even Digger’s stern countenance paled momentarily.

  “Nothin’ but monkeys!” he said, as much to ease his own mind as the others’. Almost immediately several of the noisy creatures appeared, swinging in the trees. And directly after the appearance of the monkeys, out of the undergrowth stepped six or eight islanders.

  The launch crew had by necessity come ashore armed, having no idea what dangers might be encountered in the untamed tropics. At the first stirring of the dense growth lining the shore, Pike and Digger and Newly shouldered their weapons.

  “Keep those down!” ordered Robbie instinctively, notwithstanding that he was speaking to his own captain.

  The natives were smaller in stature than the intruders to their tiny isle, though their bare, bronzed torsos revealed sinewy muscles. Their bodies stood tensed for fight if necessary, and their eyes were fierce and distrustful. Each carried some primitive weapon—a bow, a spear, a hand-hewn axe. For a tense moment they stood dead in their tracks, some thirty feet from the crew, each of the two groups of men sizing up the capabilities of the other.

  Whether they were friendly or hostile could not be told from a quick glance. But Robbie wanted no bloodshed. He knew Pike’s attitude of superiority all too well toward races and origins other than his own. A quick glance in Pike’s direction confirmed Robbie’s fears; the man’s knuckles were white from the tight grip on his rifle, and his lip was curled in disdain. He would have to act quickly before some stupid accident turned this chance encounter into a brutal slaughter.

  Hastily Robbie stepped forward with his hands extended in a gesture of friendship.

  “We mean you no harm,” he said. Though he doubted they could understand him, they could not mistake the friendly inflection of his voice. Under his breath, back toward the crew, he said, “Put down those guns!”

  The men, standing behind him now, did not move until Pike added, “Go on—do as he says!” Instantly they relaxed their weapons.

  One of the islanders stepped toward Robbie. His black hair was peppered with gray, and his sun-darkened face, lined and creased, projected an image of great venerability. His spear lowered and he held it perpendicular to the ground. He spoke a few words in his own language, not exactly a friendly welcome, but neither in the tone of a war cry.

  “We must make repairs on our ship,” said Robbie, gesturing with his hands to add meaning to his words as best he could. “We need only a few days, and then we will leave peacefully.”

  Seeming to gather at least a hint of Robbie’s meaning, the islander gestured with his hands, making the unmistakable sign of a gun, then furiously shaking his head.

  “Yes . . . of course,” Robbie replied with several exaggerated nods. He pulled his sidearm from his belt and threw it in the sand beside him. Turning toward Pike, he said, “He didn’t ask, skipper—he told us!”

  Reluctantly Pike tossed down his rifle, and the others quickly followed suit. The islander barked an order and one of his men scurried forward, none too pleased, by the look on his face, to have to draw so close to these suspicious white aliens, and gathered up the weapons.

  Then the leader, for the graying native could be none other, looked back toward Robbie, pointed toward the sun, then stopped and laid three small sticks of driftwood side by side in the sand. His message was clear—the crew of the Sea Tiger had three days to make their repairs and be gone.

  They spent the remainder of the day setting up a camp on the beach, bringing supplies from the ship, and building a hastily assembled forge. Early the next morning Robbie and the Vicar struck out into the forest to try to locate some appropriate trees that would provide wood for their needed repairs. They set out east, where the island rose in elevation, hoping to discover some hardwoods. Even an hour or two after sunrise the temperatures were stifling. Within thirty minutes they had abandoned their sweat-soaked shirts, and the sun beat relentlessly on their backs.

  “If we stay out in this sun we’ll turn into natives ourselves,” said Drew.

  Robbie laughed. “After three months aboard ship, our arms and backs are nearly there already!”

  As they continued on, the raw primitive quiet of the place began to impress itself upon them. It was different than the hush that had met them upon their arrival on the beach. Now the jungle was filled with the movement of animals, the call of birds, even the rush of a stream in the distance. But such sounds were an intrinsic part of the quiet itself. The only alien sound was the plodding of Robbie’s and the Vicar’s heavy boots.

  All at once, without warning, they stumbled into a clearing and found themselves face-to-face with a small group of native women and children. The women gasped and, clutching the children to them, shrank back, their faces filled with terror.

  Again Robbie extended his hands in peace. “We won’t hurt you,” he said gently. But the women stepped back farther, clearly afraid for their lives.

  The Vicar began fumbling through his pockets until he had retrieved a handful of bright coins he had picked up in Calcutta. He held them out to the women. “Go on,” he prompted when they made no move in this direction, “gift . . . for you.”

  At last one of the more bold from the group stepped haltingly up and took a coin from Drew’s hand. She looked it over, seemed pleased, and smiled. Taking heart from her success, and safety, one-by-one they came up to Drew until his hand was empty. Then, like a flurry of birds, they turned and departed from the clearing.

  “A nervous lot, aren’t they?” commented Drew as the two men resumed their trek.

  “Yes, and it makes no sense,” said Robbie. “I’m sure we’re not the first white men they’ve seen. Their fearfulness just doesn’t conform to what I’ve heard about people in these regions.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem,” returned Drew. “Maybe they’ve had other encounters that weren’t so pleasant.”

  Robbie shrugged, a puzzled furrow in his brow. Though he had a broad worldly experience, it had largely been positive. He simply had not nurtured the sort of cynicism Drew bore. But Drew had a point—something was wrong here. He could sense it, almost feel it in the hot air. There was more going on around this island than met the eye.

  They made their way up a sharp ascent toward the volcanic peak Robbie had seen from the Tiger. Here they came into an area less dense with overgrown jungle, forested with a kind of mahogany. These trees towered over them branchless until, like the coconut, they spread out into a leafy canopy. The leaves above interlaced so tightly from one tree to the next that little sunlight penetrated to the forest floor. Robbie examined the trees and nodded his head in satisfaction. He had seen specimens of this type in Manila and had learned that they were strong hardwoods, extremely resilient.

  “These ought to do fine,” said Robbie, breaking the long and deep silence. “We’ll bring the men back here and should be able to get all we need.”

  But when Drew turned to go back, Robbie added, “I’d like to climb
to the top of the peak before we return.”

  Drew brushed an arm across his sweaty brow, heaved a tired sigh, and followed. They had already climbed a good deal of the way, and twenty minutes later Robbie crested a ridge, followed soon thereafter by the Vicar.

  Robbie gazed around him, beholding the spectacular view of the entire island, lush and green, surrounded by the shimmering sapphire sea.

  “We’re no nearer the peak than we were when we started!” exclaimed Drew.

  “All I really wanted was a view from up here,” said Robbie. “I think this is just as good as we’d have from up higher.”

  But when he gazed toward the east, a sight—more puzzling than beautiful at first, then alarming—met his eyes that he had not expected.

  “Look,” said Robbie, pointing; “a ship.”

  “Of course. It’s the Tiger, isn’t it?”

  But then even before he had completed the question, Drew found his bearings, and glancing left beheld the Sea Tiger resting peacefully in the little northern harbor.

  Had he been as acutely aware of such indicators as Robbie, Drew would have noticed almost immediately that it was no British vessel sitting off to the east of the little island, nor even European. It was a Chinese junk, three-masted with great bamboo sails, nearly as large as the Tiger.

  “It appears we have company,” commented Drew dryly.

  “Or rather, the natives do,” corrected Robbie. “This may account for the look of fear on the faces of those women, and the rather hostile reception we received on the shore.”

  Robbie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Why had the Chinese ship anchored on this eastern side of the island when a far better harbor existed just to the north? If they had only just arrived, why seemingly avoid the harbor where there was another ship present?

  Something seemed to tell Robbie they were not new arrivals, however. An unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him to beware. He turned suddenly to Drew.

  “Let’s get back to camp,” he said, already striding rapidly down the slope.