by Buzz Harcus
Doyle, Alward and Ace made a show of carrying AK-47 automatic weapons from the ships armory with them wherever they went. Plus their personal sidearms.
Alward and Ace entered the bridge moving back to the chart table. The two silently observed the operation. After several minutes, Alward stepped up beside Dirk, pulled his automatic, and held it to Dirk’s temple, startling him.
“Vat are you doing?” gasped Sigmund at seeing the gun.
“The cook was able to get her hands on a gun and she killed one of my men. Right now, I want you to get on the horn and tell your crew that I want every damned gun, shotgun, automatic weapon, knife and anything else that can be used as a weapon to be put on the first hatch cover in the next twenty minutes or I’ll blow this kid’s brains out!” Glaring at Sigmund, he snapped, “Do it now!”
Stoic-faced, Sigmund picked up the microphone and, sending his message throughout the entire ship in Swedish, announced that any weapons should be immediately placed on the first hatch cover. After a moment, he added, “I am serious. If this is not done immediately, Dirk Pedersen will be killed.”
He replaced the microphone and turned to Alward. “Dis is not necessary. Dirk is a good man. I don’t vant to see him hurt!”
Within minutes, Osa stormed onto the bridge angrily stopping right in front of Captain Alward. Looking him straight in his eyes, she said, “If dis is about Bert and der gun, den I haf someting to tell you about him!”
Before he could even say a word, she quickly related the whole incident about the gun, going back to when the Chinese driver had come on board, and how Harry had confiscated the gun. She had forgotten about the weapon until she saw it in the drawer when Bert attacked her. “I had to shoot him to protect myself,” she said. “He’s a very bad man!”
“And you killed him,” Alward added.
“I did not!” she replied sharply, then gasped. Captain Alward face was serious. “I only shot him—”
“But you did kill him,” Alward said. “Bert is dead!”
“No!” Osa gasped. “I-I only shot him!” Her face went white. “I- I did not mean to kill him! Are you sure?”
“As sure as you’re standing before me.” Alward grinned.
“No!” Osa gave him a questioning look. “I don’t believe you.” Shaking her head, she demanded, “If he is dead, show me his body!”
Alward chuckled at her remark. “Lady, he’s not on board ship anymore. I threw him overboard.”
Sigmund caught her just as she collapsed.
“Dat vas cruel—” he started to say, but Alward cut him off. “It’s the truth. She’ll get over it.” He gave a wave of his hand, saying, “Get her off the bridge.”
He watched as Sigmund slowly walked the confused, devastated woman from the bridge. He really hated having women aboard ship, especially his ship!
Glancing at his wristwatch, he said, “Ace! Time to check the hatch cover.”
Ace dashed out the door heading down to the main deck. He returned shortly wearing a big grin, holding out his hand with just a couple of small pocket knives. Alward stuck his automatic back in his holster. “You’re released from duty as of now,” he snapped at Dirk. “Get off the bridge.”
As Dirk left, Alward ordered Ace to relay to the ship’s crew to secure. “And then send up Second Officer Sven Johanssen and his helmsman. I want him on watch now!”
Sven and Otto arrived somewhat confused by the change of watch orders. “You’re on duty as of now,” Alward said without any explanation. The two immediately set to the task of standing their watch.
Alward and his two henchmen moved back to the chart table where they huddled in a deep discussion. Pointing at the chart, Alward said they should be in Manila sometime tomorrow, which brought a round of smiles. “Once we turn the Nurad over to the boss we each get a hefty chunk of money,” Alward said. “And we earned it!”
“Broads and booze,” snapped Ace with a big grin.
“What do we do with the Nurad’s crew?” Doyle questioned.
“Make ’em walk the plank!” Ace cackled. But his comment was ignored.
Alward looked at Doyle, gave a shake of his head, a shrug of his shoulders, and said, “I’ll have to think on it.”
“We can set them out in a lifeboat, release them, or throw them overboard,” Doyle offered, “except for the woman.” A twisted smile crossed his face. “I think we could sell her to one of the local whore houses.”
Alward threw a questioning glance at him, then loosed a nasty chuckle.
“She’s in good shape, good looking, spunky—” Doyle’s rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Even I’d like a piece of that.”
“Hey!” Ace interjected, “I think we should turn the whole damned crew over to that cut throat Filipino, Murado. His specialty is getting rid of bodies. Let him get rid of the Nurad’s crew. No survivors. Dead men tell no tales.” He laughed at his remark. “Ain’t that what us pirates always say!”
“I’ll think on it,” Alward said, and turned his attention back to the chart. He placed his index finger on the chart and traced a route parallel to the island of Luzon. Stopping at one point, he tapped his index finger. “There’s a tricky channel to stay in through this point,” he said to Doyle. “Several hidden reefs. You could be on a reef before you know it. Make sure you keep your eye on the radar and fathometer. I want us in close enough to shore to keep us out of the curious eyes of the US Navy, but far enough out to stay in the channel and miss the reefs. The Navy has patrols coming out of Subic Bay and I don‘t want us getting involved in any radio chatter with them.”
“I’ve been through there before,” Doyle replied with a touch of smugness in his voice. “No problem.”
“I see a problem,” Alward answered sharply. “I know there’s dangerous reefs hidden along the edge of the passage. Keep an eye on your radar and fathometer.”
Doyle’s face turned sullen at the sudden rebuke.
“Oh, and Ace, I want you to be especially alert in the engine room,” Alward said to the man. “I want everything ship-shape for when we anchor in Manila bay.”
“Aye,” grinned Ace. “No screw ups down below.”
Alward dismissed the two then turned his attention back to the operation of the Nurad. The Second Officer, Sven, stood his watch in quiet anger, ignoring Alward.
Alward stayed back at the chart table pondering a multitude of problems. What to do with Osa? And what about the crew? Those poor Asian bastards locked below deck on the Opollo Olympia still haunted him. Damn that bloodthirsty Ace!
On passing Captain Andress’ cabin on the way down to the engine room, Ace decided to do a little exploring on his own. It only took a minute for him to jimmy the door and then he was inside. “Pretty good layout for the old boy,” he muttered snapping on a light. “Ahhh,” he grinned at spotting a bottle of cognac. “Nothing but the best for the captain.” He popped the cork on the bottle and tipped it to his lips. “Whew!” he gasped, “this is the really good stuff!”
Boldly he explored the cabin, opened drawers, poked through them looking for anything worth stealing. Socks, underwear, shirts, sweaters, pants, shoes. Pretty Spartan for a captain, he thought. He spied the pipe rack. Sitting down in the captain’s chair he reached over and poked through several pipes before settling on the merschaum pipe. He filled it with tobacco, tamped it down, then, having found the captain’s stash of kitchen matches, lit the pipe. It took several matches, but he managed to get it lit. He puffed on the pipe blowing blueish smoke out into the room.
Yessirree, he thought, the old boy had it made. He took another swig of cognac. Yessir, he decided, when he became a captain, this is the way he’s gonna live!
Osa, still shaking from having learned of the death of Bert, lay on her bed with a cold compress on her forehead. She was sick inside that she had shot the man, but worse that she had killed him.
Harry had killed in self defense; she had killed in self defense. Yet, it bothered her, the taking of a human l
ife, no matter how desperate the situation or how vile the person. Killing was wrong.
Sigmund paced the deck of her cabin, hatred in his heart for Alward and his damned pirates—and angry with himself for not having a plan yet to take back the ship.
“Sigmund. What’s the matter,” asked Osa.
“Nothing,” he replied somewhat bluntly, stopping to look at her. She had actually stormed up to the bridge and told Captain Alward what had taken place with Bert, no punches pulled, the whole story. She had guts!
Osa rolled around sitting up on the edge of her bed, eyes coming to rest on the clock. “My God!” she exclaimed. “Look at the time! Dinner. I must get up to the galley!”
“No!” he said. “You are not well. Don’t—”
“I must! I am the cook!” she said haughtily. “The men are depending on me!” With that statement she threw the wash cloth into the sink, hastily ran a comb through her hair, brushed wrinkles from her clothing and headed for the door.
“I must go,” she said leaving a puzzled Sigmund standing alone in her cabin.
As she passed her uncle’s cabin heading for the galley, she caught the fragrance of burning tobacco. She stopped abruptly and sniffed again. Pipe smoke. Puzzled, she tried the doorknob of the cabin. The door swung inward revealing Ace Dingman sitting in her uncle’s chair, smoking his favorite merschaum pipe, and with a bottle of his cognac!
“You get out of dis cabin right now!” she screamed at the startled man. Ace dropped the bottle as he jumped to his feet, wheeling around to face her.
“How dare you!” she screamed at the bald-headed, tattooed monster. “How dare you ransack my uncle’s cabin!”
“Cool it, bitch!” retorted Ace, regaining his composure. “It ain’t his cabin no more. In fact, I been thinking of taking it over myself.” “You filthy murderer!” she screamed. “I’m going right to Captain Alward dis minute!”
“Ain’t gonna do you one damned bit of good,” he said sarcastically. “You don’t give orders; we give the orders, and I say get the hell out of here before I smack you a good one!”
Osa stared daggers at the man for several seconds before slamming the door shut. That was it; she headed topside on the double to see Captain Alward. He’d do something. Ace was one of his men. He had to do something!
The Second Officer was surprised to see her but she marched right past him, fire snapping in her dark blue eyes, chin erect, and ready for a fight. She stopped right before Captain Alward, planted her feet and blistered his ears about that filthy tattooed monster.
Oh, no, not her again, Alward thought as she sputtered on and on about Ace being in her uncle‘s cabin. Alward listened politely to her, nodding his head, agreeing time and again. To placate her, he said he would personally take care of the situation. As she left the bridge, he decided, yes, it would do her good to work in one of Manila’s seediest whore houses whose clients would most likely knock that arrogance out of her.
He ordered the helmsman, Otto, to go down and find Ace and have him report to the bridge. Otto found Ace in the captain’s cabin just as Osa had described, still puffing on the pipe, and with a quarter of the bottle gone. He told Ace the captain wanted to see him—NOW! Ace rose slowly to his feet, staggered to the door, and with the bottle still in hand and feeling no pain, made his way up to the bridge.
Standing back at the chart table Captain Alward and Ace had a good laugh about Osa’s righteous indignation as they shared the bottle of cognac. They agreed that she should work in a cheap whore house and learn some manners. They haw-hawed over her righteous indignation time and again as they continued drinking.
Second Officer Sven Johanssen didn’t see any humor in their foul-mouthed whispered conversation, especially the laughter of the tattooed hyena, Ace.
Drinking on the bridge was strictly forbidden by Captain Andress. He’d have to warn Mister Helmstrund that something was up between these two, and most likely included Doyle.
In fact, he thought, if these two kept hitting the bottle, he couldn’t see Captain Alward as being capable of steering the ship. He had checked the smaller chart again, himself, and the course laid out by Captain Alward would be a tricky course, especially getting by Olongapo to get into Manila Bay.
Before long the empty bottle lay on the deck, both pirates talking and laughing like a couple of drunks. Sven hoped they’d both sober up before the end of the watch.
To Sven’s surprise, they both left the bridge holding each other up.
CHAPTER 29
Full Speed Ahead to Manila
Scuttlebutt spread like wildfire that Nurad was headed for Manila. The word was the crew would be released then. Manila was a fun port; it had everything you could want: souvenirs, bars and dark-skinned beauties. Such thoughts whetted the young Swedish appetites; two weeks at sea was still a long time. Had they not enjoyed Shanghai and Qingdao. Yes, onward to Manila! First Officer Helmstrund, too, looked forward to Manila and, hopefully, to take back the Nurad.
At eighteen hundred hours, the end of his six hour watch, and with no replacement in sight, Sven sent his helmsman, Otto, to see where their replacement was. Otto found all three in Captain An-dress cabin. Ace was drunk in the captain’s chair, an empty bottle beside him; Alward sat stuporishly in another chair. Doyle looked up at Otto from where he sat on the deck. “What the hell do you want, you dumb jerk!” he snarled, a notable slur to his voice.
“You are der next vatch officer—” Otto started to say.
“I am your next watch commander!” Doyle retorted getting unsteadily to his feet. He shouldered his AK-47 and unsteadily lumbered past the other two headed topside for the bridge. Otto followed close behind.
Looking at the AK-47, the thought crossed Otto’s mind that they could take the ship back right now if he grabbed the weapon. At that moment, however, Doyle turned, leveling his AK-47 at him. “Don’t get any funny ideas about grabbing my gun,” Doyle snapped, the weapon steady in his hand. “I’m sober enough to run this damned ship!”
Sven groaned as he saw Doyle step onto the bridge. It was obvious he was intoxicated and certainly in no condition to command the ship.
“At ease,” Doyle slurred stepping in close to Sven. “How we doin?” There was a notable weave to his stance, eyes blinking, having trouble focusing on the man.
“Good. Sir,” Sven replied curtly. Quickly he reviewed his watch, then showed Doyle where they were in relation to Manila on the chart. Doyle nodded approval and sat back at the chart table, his AK-47 resting on the table.
“Who is relieving us?” Sven asked.
“No replacement for you tonight, matie!. You’re gonna work this watch with me!” Doyle said. He aimed his weapon at Sven’s chest and grinned.
Seeing the AK-47 aimed at his chest, Sven was not about to argue. With an exhausted sigh, he looked at Otto. He, too, realized that in the hands of a drunken pirate the weapon could be dangerous. Both men turned back to the task of steering the Nurad.
Below in the galley men were lining up. This was American night: burgers! Harry had influenced Osa that Americans loved hamburgers, cheese burgers and burgers of any concoction along with French fries, onion rings, soft drinks, milk shakes and whatever else hit the spot. He was sure the Swedish sailors would love it too. And she had listened. It had worked twice before, so tonight was American night.
In honor of the occasion, the two Americans not on duty, Captain Alward and oiler, Ace Dingman, were invited to be first in line. Captain Alward, still feeling a little tipsy yet, and Ace, who was well hung over, went through the line, their AK-47’s slung over their shoulders, pistols loose and ready at hand. They both picked out burgers topped with ketchup, mustard, pickles, mayonnaise and cheese. Further down the line they picked up chocolate shakes and, with their trays full, headed for a table to eat.
Ace dug right in. He had a voracious appetite for burgers. These were the best hamburgers outside of San Diego. You couldn’t get a decent burger in southeast Asia.
&n
bsp; “Maybe we ought to sell her to a restaurant instead of a whore house,” Alward whispered. “She’s a damned good cook!” Ace grinned at the comment. “Hell, she could cook and screw in a whorehouse,“ he chuckled as he headed back for seconds.
Sigmund stepped into the galley a bit later, famished. He was pleased to see the men in such a jovial state in spite of being under the guns of the pirates. Osa loaded him up with two cheeseburgers, fries, chocolate shake, onion rings and a dish of ice cream topped with caramel. “Okay?” she asked as he stood looking at the array. “Special for you,” she added sweetly.
“Tank you,” he replied. “Too much food vill make me sleepy.”
“I tink not,” she grinned. “I tink not.”
Alward waved Sigmund over to his table. Ace readily gave up his chair saying he was heading below. “We’re gonna head into Manila Bay first thing in the morning,” the bleery-eyed Captain told Sigmund. “I want the crew on deck. I want the ship hosed down fore and aft. I want it looking ship-shape for the new owner—”
“New owner?” Sigmund choked. “But dis is not your ship, nor anyvun else’s; it is a Svedish grain carrier under a Svedish flag. NO! You vill not steal dis ship!”
“You ain’t got no say in the matter,” Alward snapped, laying his AK-47 on the small table, barrel aimed at Sigmund’s gut. “My boss wants this ship, and he’s going to get it. Now if you and your lady friend want to swim for shore, I can sure as hell accommodate you”
Osa happened to glance up at that moment. She gasped at seeing the weapon aimed at Sigmund. She knew Captain Alward was capable of killing Sigmund just from the way he had killed Bert and then thrown him overboard.
Hurriedly she left the serving line making a beeline for the two. “Is someting der matter?” she asked. “Is der food not good?” She tried to make light of it.
Alward looked up at her offering a toothy smile. “Nothing wrong with the chow, ma’m. Sigmund and I were just having a discussion about the ship. Nothing that concern’s you.”
