Slocum and the Celestial Bones

by Jake Logan

  His arms ached after only a few strokes, but he kept moving. When he came within a few yards of the ship, he tensed. Craning his neck around, he watched the sentry walking slowly along the deck. The junk rode high in the water—it had not taken on much in the way of supplies. That told Slocum Lai Choi San did not intend to head back to the Celestial Kingdom. In his mind, this was another point in favor of his belief that she did not have the jade crown.

  The lookout stopped to peer in Slocum’s direction. Slocum froze. Keeping astride the log proved difficult—it kept trying to turn under him and throw him into the water. Slocum lowered himself and clung to the log, sure he would get a musket ball in the back at any instant.

  When he heard the steady pacing begin again, he paddled closer until the log butted into the junk’s hull. The dull thump was muffled by the lapping of waves. Slocum grabbed and caught a rope dangling down. He took the rough cord in his hands and winced. Blisters still bedeviled him. He took a deep breath, steeled himself against the pain and began climbing. With Lai Choi San posting sentries even in a deserted cove, discipline aboard the junk had to be great. She ran a ship as ordered as any U.S. Navy vessel.

  With a kick, he swung over the railing and landed on the deck. His boots, wet from the trip from the shore, slid out from under him. He sat heavily. Cursing his clumsiness ended fast when he realized this had saved him from discovery. Another lookout on the poop deck came over and leaned against a railing. He had heard something. Calling out to the other guard produced a quick, staccato exchange that ended with both men going back to their posts. Slocum was not even suspected as being aboard.

  He got his feet under him and made his way slowly toward the aft where hatches opened down into the bowels of the junk and another led off the deck into what must be Lai Choi San’s quarters. Six-shooter drawn, Slocum opened the hatch and peeked inside. The small, neat room was empty. Wherever she had gone, Lai Choi San was not at home.

  Slocum ducked inside and looked around. The tiny cabin was filled with charts and maps and arcane navigational equipment. Slocum recognized a compass and spyglass. Otherwise, the geared devices were a mystery to him. He quickly went through drawers looking for the crown. He found only a small jade ring. It was a different color, a deeper green than anything he could remember Sir William having in his exhibit. Slocum returned it to the drawer where he had found it, but he searched thoroughly for any kind of secret hiding spot.

  He found nothing, as he expected. Lai Choi San did not have the jade crown. He knew she might have it hidden somewhere else aboard the ship, but he doubted it. She was a pirate and had a crew of pirates. Anything she wanted to keep would be here, in this cabin, where she could keep an eye on it.

  His boots sucking with the water in them at every step, Slocum knew he could not be quiet enough to explore the rest of the ship. When he bent over a desk littered with documents, all written in Chinese, he stared out the window until he got his bearings. Locating the crew working in the cove was easy enough. From the way they bustled about at the shore, he figured they would be returning soon. It was time for him to get off the junk and back to land where he belonged.

  Slocum slipped from the cabin and went to the railing. The line he had used to climb was gone. He leaned far enough over the railing to see that the log he had paddled out on was still close to the ship.

  A sixth sense warned him of attack. He ducked and turned as the deck lookout rushed him. Slocum got his arms around the man’s hips and lifted. Twisting, he tossed the pirate over the side.

  Slocum cursed when he heard the loud splash the sailor made when he hit the water.

  The other lookout on the upper deck yelled something in Chinese that had to be an alert. Slocum started to jump over the side and take his chances when he saw that the pirate he had dumped into the drink had clambered onto the log and sat astride it. From the silvery glint in his hand, the pirate had drawn a knife. Slocum would have to fight for the log.

  There was not time.

  Two pirates came onto the deck from below. Slocum knew he could gun them down, but what would he do then? Fight the rest of the crew? Hiding was the only thought in his head. He took a step toward Lai Choi San’s cabin, then knew he would never reach it. Even if he did, he would be trapped. The windows in the captain’s quarters were too small for him to squeeze through.

  Without breaking stride, Slocum reached up, grabbed a dangling ratline and pulled himself upward. He swung out enough to lock a leg around the lowest spar. Sinking down flat, he tried to look like part of the shop’s rigging.

  For a brief instant he thought he had succeeded. Half a dozen sailors came on deck and went to the rail, yelling down to their comrade in the water. Slocum wished he could understand what they were saying. He spoke reasonably good Spanish and got by in half a dozen Indian tongues, but Chinese was totally alien to him. They could be laughing at the man in the water, deriding him for being so damn clumsy.

  Or they could be plotting to come after the invader on their ship. Slocum just did not know.

  He edged along the spar with the intent of going to the far side of the ship and then lowering himself into the water. That meant a dangerous swim ashore in frigid water, but it was safer than staying where he was. Inching along like a caterpillar, reaching out, pulling himself up and then extending flat again, he made his way to the center mast. He had just reached it when someone spotted him.

  “Aieee!”

  The cry from below was chilling. Slocum threw his arms around the huge center mast and pulled himself up. A splinter flew off the mast in front of his face. The slug whined off into the night, but another quickly followed. And another and another. He agilely whirled around, putting the thick wood post between him and the pirates shooting at him. They all used single-shot pistols—muzzle loaders, which saved him. While they were busy reloading, he made his way carefully along the spar to the far end, intending to dive off.

  He looked down and decided that was not a good idea. Two pirates climbed ropes dangling at the end of the spar to cut him off. He touched the pistol in his holster, then knew he might not be able to shoot either of the men in the dark, much less both.

  Spinning, almost losing his balance, he turned, went back to the center mast and got around it, intending to dive off and swim the shorter distance back to shore. In the dark waves, the sailors might not be able to spot him. Wobbling a little as he moved, he reached the end of the spar. Below him still straddling the log sat the pirate he had tossed overboard. A decent dive would take Slocum well past him.

  He glanced behind and saw that the two pirates on the ropes had reached the spar. They ran along as if they were on solid ground rather than fifteen feet above the deck. Slocum bent down to make his dive when he felt cold metal press against his arm.

  A thrown knife cut through his sleeve and pinned his arm to the spar. He reached to pull the knife out and another pinned his free arm. Slocum twisted and yanked to tear the cloth.

  From below came a mocking voice. “Do not try to escape, Mr. Slocum. I am quite accurate with my knives, as you can tell.”

  Lai Choi San stood with another knife ready to throw. He had no doubt she was the one who had pinned him—and that another throw would gut him.

  Slocum simply slid down and straddled the spar, both arms fastened to the wood by Lai Choi San’s knives. She could have killed him with either toss. The only problem he saw was that she might have a more diabolical and tortuous death waiting for him.

  16

  The two Chinese pirates on the spar pulled the knives free and then kicked Slocum off. He fell through the air, trying to hold back a scream and failing. He landed heavily on the deck. He raised his head and saw white linen pants. Looking upward even more, he passed the quilted jacket and finally stared directly into Lai Choi San’s eyes. They were cold and Slocum knew he could expect no mercy.

  “You got me,” he said, getting up. A foot on his shoulder shoved him back to the deck.

  “Rem
ain where you are,” the pirate captain said fiercely. “I will cut off your ears and feed them to you if you disobey me.”

  Slocum did not doubt Lai Choi San was capable of that. He felt feathery touches as a sailor searched him. His Colt Navy was lifted from its holster so smoothly he barely felt it being taken. The bare foot remained on his shoulder, holding him in the proper position to pay homage to the captain of a Chinese vessel. Slocum seethed but could not get free.

  “You searched my cabin,” Lai Choi San accused.

  Slocum saw no reason to dispute it. He nodded.

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Jade.”

  Slocum reeled as she reached down, knocked off his hat and grabbed a handful of hair. She pulled his head back at a painful angle.

  “What did you find?”

  “Nothing but a jade ring.”

  Slocum swallowed hard when he felt the sharp edge of her blade against his throat.

  “Did you take it?”

  “I left it. It wasn’t what I was looking for.”

  “What did you want?” Lai Choi San pulled the blade from his flesh. He felt a tiny trickle of blood from a nick she had given him near the pulsing artery at this throat.

  “The emperor’s crown,” he said. Even if he were so inclined, he saw no reason to lie. “If you’ve got it, you hid it well.”

  “You knew I did not have it. You are not a stupid man.”

  “Everyone else thinks you have it,” Slocum said. “I ran out of possibilities.” He tried to shrug but found himself shoved back down hard to the deck. He was beginning to get angry.

  “I want it, but I do not have it,” Lai Choi San said. Slocum heard the honesty in her soft words.

  “Who does have it?”

  Lai Choi San said nothing. Slocum chanced a quick glance up and saw a thoughtful expression on her face. Somehow, she was finding out that little tidbit—and Slocum had failed.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “You search for the jade crown to give back to Sir William?”

  Slocum hesitated. He had been lying to everybody about his real intentions. The time to start telling the truth was at hand. After all, he had nothing to lose.

  “I was going to give it to Little Pete.”

  “The Sum Yop leader? Why?”

  Slocum felt a surge of confidence now. He had surprised the pirate captain.

  “I owe a debt to Ah Ming. Giving the jade crown to Little Pete will erase the debt.”

  Lai Choi San remained silent as she turned this over in her mind.

  “You owe me a debt. You have violated the rules of my ship. To remove this debt of honor, you will work as one of the crew.”

  The heavy foot slammed him flat, then disappeared. Slocum got to his feet and stared into Lai Choi San’s impassive face.

  “You will be at the orders of any crew member,” she said. “You will be the lowest of the low.” Lai Choi San stepped back and spoke rapidly in Chinese. Then she turned her back on Slocum and went to her cabin. When she stood in the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth. With that, she disappeared. The door slammed hard behind her like some peal of doom for Slocum.

  “Go. Work,” ordered a sailor. The others laughed. Some things were universal, and mocking whoever was on the bottom rung of the ladder was one of them. Slocum balled his fists, then relaxed. Lai Choi San had caught him fair and square. He would work at whatever task they set for him until he could jump ship and get back to dry land. He had avoided San Francisco shanghaiers. He wouldn’t let a Chinese captain, even one as pretty as Lai Choi San, impress him into her crew.

  The sailors pushed and shoved him around until he got the idea that he was supposed to be scraping the deck and cleaning it. Through the night he worked until he was woozy. The crew ashore brought the new spar on board. As far as Slocum could tell, it was not for repair but replacement, should it be needed. From his position on hands and knees with a horsehair brush scrubbing the planking, he watched as the Celestials secured the spar on the deck. Some went aloft and examined the topmost crossbeam. From all the shouting and yammering, the ones on the deck began shortening the beam they had brought aboard.

  By the time sunlight poked above the land, Slocum was so tired he could hardly lift his arms. It quickly became apparent, after a single bowl of rice shared with the others, that his workday was just beginning. When they saw he could tie knots, he was put to work with the rope used in the rigging. By the time the sun was fully up, Slocum wondered why they were not sailing. The junk was in tip-top shape, from what he could tell. The crew moved around restlessly, looking for trouble and occasionally finding it. Twice Lai Choi San stopped fights.

  Slocum had seen the same problems in garrison-duty soldiers. They were keyed for one thing: fighting. These men sailed and fought. When their primary mission was denied them, they sought outlets—usually trying to do the things they were trained for.

  Another hour passed. Slocum worked on the top deck where the captain would stand when the ship was at sea. He patched some rot on the rudder arm and was taking his time looking as if he was finished to give himself a rest. The usual tormentors in the crew were all distracted from poking and prodding him to great work when the lookout high on the center mast shouted and pointed.

  A burly Celestial waved to them from the shore, then dived into the water and swam quickly. When he came aboard, shaking water off like a wet dog, the others gathered around. All of them called out what had to be questions. They fell silent and parted for their captain.

  Slocum got a good look at the newcomer for the first time. He wondered where Lai Choi San’s first mate had been and what he had to say. With head bowed, Sung spoke for some time. Lai Choi San nodded occasionally, then waved her arm and pointed out to sea.

  A great cheer went up. The garrison duty was past. The sailors clambered into the rigging and began unfurling the triangular, parti-colored sails.

  The woman came to the top deck and ignored Slocum. He continued his nonwork on the rudder until she brushed him away. Her quick, knowing eyes looked at what he had done. She nodded once. Slocum knew that if he had tried to sabotage the junk, he would be hanging from the top yardarm, a rope around his neck.

  As it was, he merely continued as the ship’s slave.

  Sung came and stood just behind his mistress, head still bowed. Slocum wondered what terrible thing the man had done to work so hard at sucking up to Lai Choi San. She continued to snap out what Slocum took to be questions and Sung answered briefly. The only word Slocum understood was Portobello. When he had made his way along the Embarcadero, he had seen a sailing ship of that name.

  Slocum grasped the railing to keep from being tossed overboard when the junk lurched under full sail. The wind caught the canvas and propelled the ship with surprising speed. For a moment Slocum wondered why he had not let the sudden jerk carry him off the ship. With the junk moving as swiftly as it was, Lai Choi San would never return for him. Whatever information Sung had brought lit a fire under her.

  “You are used to ships, Mr. Slocum?” came the unexpected question.

  “Once or twice,” he said, “I was on a Mississippi riverboat.”

  “That is an inland river?”

  “A big one,” he said. “More than a mile across in places.”

  Lai Choi San chuckled. “You think that is a big river? You should see the Yangtze. It is wider than ten li. The current is swift, also, carrying the life of China with it.”

  “Are you going back to China soon?”

  “You fear we sail now for the Flowery Kingdom with you?” She shook her head sadly. “If only that were possible.”

  “What your mate told you will make it happen soon, won’t it?”

  The woman spun and stared at him. Then she laughed. It was not a friendly laugh.

  “You are more observant than I thought, Mr. Slocum. You are a dangerous man—in your way.”


  “What’s aboard the Portobello that you want?”

  This time she spun on him and laid a sharp-edged knife against his throat.

  “If I thought you knew anything about this, I would kill you.” He did not flinch. She took the knife away but did not sheath it. “At the first sign of treachery, you will be killed. Sung will kill you. He has wanted to do so from the moment you and Sir William came aboard the ship in San Francisco.”

  From the corner of his eye Slocum saw how the huge, hulking first mate tensed at the name “Sir William.” Things began to fall into place.

  “He was supposed to steal the jade on the night of the exhibition opening and failed.”

  “Do not be too clever for your own good,” she warned.

  Slocum saw nothing to lose. She would kill him on a whim. He had missed his chance of falling overboard and getting back to land. Like it or not, he had made his decision to see this through, wherever it led.

  Sung grabbed him by the arm and shoved him down the steps to the main deck where he was put to work again, this time making certain the decking was properly tarred and sealed. Slocum knew they could have forced him belowdecks to work on the hand-operated bilge pumps. Here he was in the open air and could look around as the junk sailed. After careful observation of the way the land moved in relation to the ship, Slocum figured that they were sailing northward along the coast, heading back toward San Francisco. It took only this single fact to lead him to Lai Choi San’s battle plan.

  The pirate ship would intercept the Portobello and steal whatever was aboard. From all Lai Choi San had said, she wanted only one thing: her emperor’s jade crown. How the crown had gotten aboard the sailing ship or who had stolen it were mysteries that Slocum did not need to solve. It was enough to know where the crown was.