“Perhaps I spare you, dog,” he said at length. “Would be curious to see how friendly Wang is to you, no? Perhaps I take you to him myself.”
Pike swallowed hard. While it was true he and Wang had done some business together, he knew Chou was right. Wang K’ung-wu hated foreigners. At best this little ploy might buy Pike some time—and perhaps a different locale for his death.
“Now—get out of here, dog!” cried Chou. “Go warn crew their doom is near—very near!”
Pike heaved himself up from the floor, wondering what might happen if he killed Chou right here and now. He could do it. But escape would be a lost cause. He quickly gave up the idea. It would be a stupid act. He wasn’t ready to die just yet! He hobbled out of the shack without another word.
As he made his way through the blackened jungle, he did not feel altogether defeated, even though he had not exactly attained his objective. Perhaps Chou was too confident. He let Pike walk away. He considered him a stupid, barbarian dog. That was fine! thought Pike. Just so long as it kept the pirate confident enough to trip over that filthy grin! And he had at least given him something to think about by throwing Wang into the discussion. If he did try to seize the Tiger, Pike was sure it would not be without some serious soul-searching—if the savage even had a soul!
There was one other thing Pike had working in his favor. Chou knew the Tiger had been given three days to make repairs. But that night around the fire, Pike had subtly let it be known that they would never be ready by then. He let word slip that the rudder was nowhere near completed and that they could well be up to a week. In reality, however, they could sail within hours. With difficulty—yes. But it could be done.
Suddenly Pike stopped still in his tracks.
He’d heard something in the forest—no natural sound, but rather what sounded like booted feet. He could not have been followed from Chou’s camp.
All at once, Robbie stepped out into Pike’s path.
“Well, laddie,” said Pike, relieved, “fancy meetin’ the likes o’ you here!”
“What are you doing out in the jungle?” asked Robbie, somewhat sharply, for he too had been startled by the other’s appearance.
“I’m thinkin’ I could ask the same of you,” returned the skipper coolly.
“Yes, I suppose you could.” Lately Robbie found himself suspicious of nearly everything Pike did, and now he wondered if these were the same kind of thoughts that were responsible for Pike’s odd behavior toward him. It chilled him to think that he might be falling into the same pit of mistrust as the old sailor.
“Well, we ain’t gots time to be passin’ the time of day,” said Pike, shaking off any accusations that might have risen to his lips. For the moment they would each have to lay aside their personal suspicions at finding the other in the forest in the middle of the night.
“What’s wrong?” asked Robbie.
“I’ll tell ye what’s wrong.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out o’ here—tonight.”
“That’s impossible. The ship—”
“Quiet, man!” Pike nervously looked this way and that. “I said we’re gettin’, an’ we’re gettin’. Chou is preparin’ to attack us, an’ our only chance to save our necks is to sail tonight. You got to run back to camp—they’d massacre us before I got there on this crutch! Rouse the men, break up camp. Get the rudder an’ half the men to the Tiger first an’ get that blasted rudder on!—I don’t care if you got to hold it on yersel’! The rest o’ us’ll come wi’ the supplies in the other boat. We’ll be there afore ye’re finished with the rudder.”
Robbie studied Pike a moment, saw the dead earnestness in his words, and broke into a full run back to camp.
27
Sobering Questions
It took Robbie less than a quarter hour to haul the rudder aboard one of the two lifeboats and set across the narrow stretch of the sea with Jenkins, Digger, Newly, Drew, and Johnnie. Pike, with the remainder of the crew in the other boat, were less than thirty minutes behind.
When Robbie jumped aboard the Sea Tiger in the middle of the night and divulged the skipper’s departure plans, the first to speak was Lackey.
“It’s Friday!” he cried, bewailing an old sailor’s taboo. “’Tis an ill-fated vessel indeed that tries to hoist its sail before the Sabbath!”
“Another word from you, Lackey,” remonstrated Robbie, “and I’ll lower you into the water to hold the rudder in place!”
Lackey pouted his way into silence. He detected a note of urgency in Robbie’s voice. The young mate was no doubt finally cracking under the pressure of it all. No use tempting fate. He would keep silent until they set sail.
The next three hours required Herculean efforts on the part of every member of the crew. Along the decks, above and below, running feet and shouts could be heard, everyone pulling together in great unified effort. Without anyone’s actually voicing it, each seemed to know he was quite literally working to save his life. Half the crew, under Robbie’s direction, worked to install the new rudder. The others, with Digger barking out orders, readied the masts and sails for the winds they were likely to face during their final run for Shanghai. In three and a half hours they were ready to pull up anchor.
Slowly the sails went up, filling the night air with their ghostlike flapping, and gently the Tiger, urged forward by the wind, left the harbor and the island behind in the darkness. When the sun rose two hours later, the skies were clear; the winds, while not altogether favorable, enabled them to steer a course north toward the mainland, and there was no sign of land in any direction.
But even with several hours’ head start, it was unlikely they could outrun the junk in their makeshift condition. If the Chinese craft had truly sustained damage during the storm—which was unlikely—they might have a chance. The situation was all the more perilous in that Chou knew their condition, knew their necessary course given the winds, and knew their destination. He would have very little trouble finding them, and no difficulty overtaking them.
By Robbie’s estimation their best chance was to catch the southeast monsoon and run their easting down all the way back to Hong Kong. He didn’t care about customs officials or Pike’s precious cargo. What mattered now was the survival of the ship and crew.
At his first opportunity alone with Pike, he told the captain his plan.
“We’re bound for Shanghai!” insisted Pike intractably, “an’ that’s where we’re going!”
“We’ll never outrun Chou in this condition.”
“An’ wot are ye goin’ to do about it, laddie—mutiny, an’ take the ship from me?”
The very word was loathsome to Robbie. It grated painfully against his strong code of loyalty. They might all lose their lives, but he would not lead a riot, even against one so incapable of command as Pike.
He spun around and stalked from Pike’s cabin.
On deck Robbie took several deep gulps of the warm sea air. He loved these seas! It was only too bad they had to be sailing under such conditions. But he was only the first mate, not the captain. Therefore, he bent his attentions to the supervision of the rigging and hourly checks on the rudder. That was his job, and he determined that if they must make for Shanghai, then he would see to it that they made it there as quickly as possible, and hopefully in one piece. So far, the coxswain reported the rudder functioning capably, though the sea had not tested its vigor yet. If they could keep this pace, they could make the Chinese coast in two or three days, Shanghai in probably six. Maybe . . . just maybe, it would be possible.
He climbed up onto the poop and gazed out astern—no ships on the horizon, no Chinese junk, no Chou.
The Vicar ambled up. The two had hardly spoken recently. Now, however, Drew seemed inclined to renew their old dialogue.
“We are going on a broken sail and a prayer—is there not a saying somewhere to that effect?”
“More one than the other, I fear,” replied Robbie grimly.
“‘The praye
rs of a righteous man availeth much,’ you know,” quoted Drew. “Unfortunately we are in short supply of righteous men here aboard the Tiger. I cannot think of a single one other than yourself, Taggart.”
Robbie laughed, hardly taking note of the Vicar’s heavy sigh.
“Ah, you should have seen me in the old days, Robbie,” he went on. “I could pray up such a storm. You wouldn’t have had a thing to fear with the Rev. Elliot Drew aboard. No Jonah or Paul could have served a ship so well!”
“’Tis no storm I’m wanting right now, Elliot,” said Robbie. “Not even of prayer. Though I would turn nothing down from that direction.”
Now it was Drew’s turn to laugh. “A simple westerlie, perhaps,” he said. “As easy as that!” he snapped his fingers, still laughing. Then suddenly he turned sober. “Sad to say . . . the Rev. Drew is no longer with us.”
“Why do you torture yourself so, Elliot?” asked Robbie, turning to face the Vicar, still wondering why a man would intentionally put himself through such punishment.
“Ah, Robbie Taggart. You are a more astute judge of human character than to have to ask that! Why, beyond myself, you are probably the closest thing we have to an intellectual aboard, though you try to hide it with that strong image of the rough sailor. But you don’t fool me, Robbie! I’m sure you know me as well as I know myself. It can’t have escaped you that I thrive on my own plight. I suppose I gather a certain amount of morbid satisfaction in making myself miserable.”
Drew sighed and cast a long gaze out over the sea toward the horizon.
“However, none of that will help the Tiger, will it?” he said at length. “I am impotent! And the really sad part of it is that I was impotent then, too. Only I was too foolish to realize it.”
“I didn’t know you then, Elliot,” said Robbie, “but from the looks of it, I can’t help but wondering if you didn’t have more then than you do now. At least you had something to believe in, no matter how pitiful it may have been. And perhaps if you’d stuck it out, who knows what might have happened. You might have discovered something real, like my friend Jamie did.”
“Your friend who believes that God loves all men?”
Robbie nodded, surprised that Drew, in his state of mind, could remember such detail from a conversation so long past.
“Well,” the Vicar continued, “I have often thought of that. Perhaps one day I’ll meet your friend and she can tell me where I went wrong. Or where the world went wrong, and why God was powerless to prevent it from happening. Maybe she could tell me why a well-meaning young preacher—”
He stopped suddenly, choking over the words, took a shaky breath, then tried to go on, “Maybe she could tell me why her God of love—”
But he broke off again in a strangled sob, and closing his eyes, he paused for a long time, unable to speak.
Robbie remained silent. He did not know what to say, what to do.
He found his thoughts all at once drawn back to Jamie. She had not entered his mind for a long time, almost as if she had ceased to exist, except in some dreamlike fairy tale. What would she say to the Vicar? he wondered. What would she do with this sad, lonely, disconsolate, cynical man? He could almost see her gazing deeply into the Vicar’s face with her penetrating emerald eyes, and saying, “God has a plan for everyone, dear sir, but we do not always have to understand it. Of only one thing you can be sure—that is that He loves you intimately, and means nothing but good for you.” And with the words, her voice would mirror that very love which she attributed to her God.
But Robbie had no such words for the Vicar. And he knew that if he tried to spout Jamie’s in order to comfort the man, they would be empty and hollow, and would fall on the Vicar’s starving ears like the empty words of peace the pirate Chou had spoken. Robbie had nothing to give, for he was no nearer an understanding of Jamie’s words than the Vicar.
And yet, the very words Jamie had spoken to him that day in her hotel room in London seemed more real at this moment than they had then. Back on that day he thought he had licked all his problems. He was going back to sea—the real sea! Everything was about to come up roses for him. He couldn’t have imagined then that the footloose Robbie Taggart could be so caught up in doubts and events and frustrations that he would turn downright melancholy! He still had difficulty believing it. This wasn’t him!
Jamie had freely shared with him all about her relationship with God, as she called it. But it had fallen on the ears of a self-satisfied man. He remembered back in Aberdeen when he had first seen the “new” Jamie MacLeod—and fallen immediately in love with her.
The changes in her were visible to all. And he had fallen in love with the visible, surface alteration. She was beautiful, she carried herself with poise and grace . . . she was a lady!
But he knew, too, that the change in her had gone deeper than her clothes, deeper than her face, deeper than her graceful demeanor. Her heart had changed. And that was the reason for the glowing smile on her face. Peace and an inner contentment and confidence had replaced the uncertainty and discontent of the shepherd girl he had found all alone in the blizzard.
She had attributed all this to God. “He has changed me, Robbie,” she told him. “He has shown me the love in His heart for me, and made me complete.” But at the time Robbie had not wanted to change—he felt just fine as he was.
And now?
Well, he’d be fine now if it wasn’t for Pike . . . and all his ridiculous talks with the Vicar . . . and this seemingly fated ship old Lackey continued to pronounce doom for.
But what about God? wondered Robbie.
He hadn’t done much for the Vicar. But there was so much more to the man Drew than Robbie could fathom. He knew very little of the man’s actual background. Even he said it wasn’t God’s fault he had turned out as he had. How could God’s love—supposedly the same for everyone—fail with someone like Drew and at the same time work such marvelous changes for good in one like Jamie?
What if he turned out to be one of God’s failures? What if he turned out in the end to be a drunken, bitter fool, like Drew? Or worse—what if he turned out like Pike? Was it possible to even speak of God failing? Or did the responsibility lie elsewhere?
Robbie did not want to think of such things! Especially now, when there were dangers much more close to home to be faced.
He particularly did not want to think about what the cost a step toward God might entail. Yes, he supposed it could turn out to be wonderful as it had been for Jamie. But most of the so-called religious men he’d been acquainted with in his life were hardly “men” at all, as Robbie defined the term. Retiring and slender of frame, weak and effeminate—that’s what it seemed to take to be religious, thought Robbie. It was different for women. Women could be religious without giving up their womanhood. But Robbie could not envision being a religious man without giving up a good portion of his virility—the robust, strong athletic masculinity he was proud of.
That wasn’t for him! Maybe for others. But he was a man’s man and didn’t want to be any other way!
He knew how Jamie would reply—she would say the risk would be worth it. And that whatever he might have to give up would be repaid ten times over. Perhaps the risk might be worth it, if only—
“Look!” Drew’s voice broke the deep silence. He had recovered his composure, and was now pointing toward the horizon. “Is that only a fog bank, or could those be storm clouds?”
Robbie was relieved to have a diversion from his thoughts. At the same time, however, another part of him felt a momentary hint of disappointment. He almost sensed that if he had thought it out a minute longer, he might have gained a great prize. But the moment was now past.
He turned and gazed over the starboard quarter where Drew was pointing.
28
They That Go Down to the Sea in Ships
It was not fog Drew had spotted. That would have been welcome.
“Another storm front!” exclaimed Robbie. “And moving this way!”
He leaped instantly to action. It was time to lay aside any further philosophical quandaries, for the Sea Tiger was in no condition to meet another storm, even a light one. But if one was coming, he would do everything in his power to use the winds to their advantage.
Robbie quickly ordered the royals hauled in. All the other sails he left trimmed. If the rudder held, they could ride the storm, and then nothing could outrace the Tiger. They would leave Chou’s junk far behind.
The clouds had overtaken them in less than an hour. And even before that the winds had increased considerably. How long they could stay at the storm’s front was the question. For a long while the Tiger flew through the water, making a good eighteen knots. The storm was their ally, even though Robbie knew it could not go on indefinitely. He hated to drive his ship so; each groan, each straining creak of the boards sent a shudder through his body. Yet he had already felt the grand nobility in her frame. If any clipper could do it, it was the Sea Tiger—if the rudder held.
The squall belched rain from above and stirred up the sea from beneath for another full day. It was not nearly so severe as the typhoon, though in their crippled state the effect was nearly the same. The main hatch stove in and water poured in below, twelve inches deep, until the pumps finally cleared it out. The forecastle roof, which they had fixed on the island, blew completely away. But miraculously, the rudder held.
During the next night, however, the wind shifted, and then indeed might Lackey have correctly prophesied disaster. The change would not have been significant under ordinary circumstances. It was only a few degrees. But with a weak rudder having difficulty keeping the Tiger aligned properly, the sudden difference between broad reach and beam reach was enough momentarily to snap the sails back. The sharp pressure cracked the fore topmast, and with a horrifying crash, hauling sails and rigging with it, the mast fell to the deck.
So concerned with the rudder, Robbie had never expected catastrophe to strike from above. But everything had happened so suddenly that nothing could have been done to prevent it. Pike, who had been astern, hobbled quickly to Robbie’s side. Together they stared hopelessly at the wreckage. When their eyes met a moment later, Robbie perceived such a depth of despair in the old man’s sinking heart at seeing his dreams vanish before him that instantly he forgot all his animosity. He laid a comforting hand on the skipper’s shoulder.
Robbie Taggart Page 22
