by Lou Cameron
The little Hungarian girl, Eva Horgany, rolled her spooky eyes and asked him just where they were. So he said, “Almost halfway to the Bahías. We still have to round the big bulge of Cape Gracias a Dios, where Nicaragua and Honduras bump borders. I hope the fog holds up past there. The channel between the cape and the offshore Half Moon reefs is a favorite hunting ground for coastal pirates and patrol boats.”
Eva gasped. “Will those patrol boats be looking for us?”
He shrugged and replied, “Hopefully they’ll be more interested in the pirates. That’s how come they’re patrolling those waters. Nobody’s supposed to know about us, see?”
She still looked worried. Keller looked worried too as he said, “Somebody else knows about us! Have you figured out who tried to stop us last night, Walker?”
Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “Not really. I think we can eliminate the American or Royal Navy. No ironclad would have had to act so sneaky against a soft-hulled schooner. So that other craft was probably a souped-up sailboat, too. After that it gets tougher. I doubt if either the Spanish or their German friends really want us to salvage that wrecked submarine ahead of them.”
Fitzke lowered his cup and said, “That means they haven’t located it yet either, no?”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “That’s another thing we’ve got to worry about. I mean, how come? The Spanish must have known they’d lost a vessel among the Bahías well before anyone else did. So why haven’t they or their German pals already found it? Has it occurred to any of you we could be on a snipe hunt?”
Some of the Europeans looked blank. But the German-American Keller knew what a snipe hunt was and objected, “The Hondurans fished a Spanish submariner out of the water near the Bahías, dammit.”
Captain Gringo shrugged and said, “So what? They didn’t see any submarine, did they? What do we really know about that soggy Spaniard anyway?”
Keller said, “I read the official report. Hakim was able to get a copy for us from a Honduran officer who enjoys good cigars. I forget the shipwrecked Spaniard’s dago name, but he said he was an oiler aboard His Most Catholic Majesty’s D-Uno. Hakim says the D stands for ‘Debajo’ and Uno, of course, means—”
“I know what it means,” Captain Gringo cut in, adding for those who spoke no Spanish, “It would be U-One in Der Kaiser’s navy. Hakim told us it was the first submarine the Spanish bought. I’d still like to know if it was really wrecked at all. That submariner could have been a plant, you know. I doubt if Spain really wants Uncle Sam to know it has at least one functional underwater gunbucket cruising anywhere close to Cuba these days, and anyone can lie if he’s told to.”
Keller said, “Dammit, the man died shortly after the Hondurans rescued him. He couldn’t have been faking it. I read his medical report. He’d been in the water for some time, clinging to some wreckage. Aside from exposure, he was coughing blood a lot. The Honduran navy medics assumed that he had pneumonia. Hakim says it’s more likely he inhaled some chlorine before he got out. That smells like a wrecked submarine too.”
Captain Gringo frowned and said, “I know what chlorine smells like. But what in the hell would chlorine gas be doing aboard a submarine?”
Fitzke said, “I can answer that. Sea water spilled on storage batteries filled with sulfuric acid generates chlorine. So Keller and Hakim must be right about the vessel hitting hard enough to crack her hull. If a man in the engine room got out, it couldn’t have been from far under. So the submarine has to be aground somewhere, awash or not too deep.”
Captain Gringo shrugged and said, “Yeah, and not even Bo Peep can find her. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, folks.”
Little Eva said, “If someone has already found the wreck, would be they trying to stop us from looking for it?”
He’d figured she was smart. Even her husband seemed surprised but not displeased by her suggestion as he said, “By God, she’s right! How far did you say we were from those Bahías, Walker?”
Captain Gringo said, “At least two days. And everyone else has had a chance to search among the Bahías a lot longer. So forget a conning tower still above the surface like a sea serpent, gang. Even if it lay fully submerged but visible from the surface, somebody should have found it by now.”
Keller said, “Not if it’s tucked in some cove the way we were last night.”
“There’s a law saying other search vessels can’t poke into mangroves, too?”
“Not if they’re deep-draft naval vessels. Why did you think Hakim sent us aboard this shallow-draft sponger?”
Captain Gringo thought as he sipped some coffee. Then he nodded and said, “Maybe. But that sure makes the other guys dumb as hell. Any gunboat that doesn’t carry lifeboats smaller than this schooner is in big trouble in these waters!”
He put the problem aside in favor of his ham and eggs and let the others worry about it for now. Hakim wasn’t paying him and Gaston to find the wreck. They just had to keep these other idiots from getting killed before they found it or, more likely, gave up.
He finished and went back out on deck to enjoy a smoke in the fog. As he moved up in the bows, Herta Keller caught up with him and said, “Dick, we must talk.”
He looked aft, past her, and said, “Well, it’s too foggy for anyone to spot us from more than a few feet away, but can’t it wait until dark, Honey Box?”
She sighed and said, “Nein. It is about what happened in the dark we have to talk about, Dick. I don’t know what got into me last night.”
He just smiled crookedly at her. She blushed and said, “Aside from you, I mean. I was terribly annoyed with mein husband, but I may have made a mistake. When I went back to our stateroom I found him all alone, and that Greek boy is the one who delivers food and liquor, as mein husband said.”
He saw no reason to play tattletale. So he just shrugged and said, “I’m glad you made up, Mrs. Keller.”
“Please don’t be angry, Dick. I shall never forget what a grand time we had together, but despite our troubles, I am still a married woman and, well, if he’s not having an affair with anyone else on board, I don’t see how we can continue with ours, do you?”
He tried not to look as relieved as he felt as he nodded soberly and said, “No. We have to consider the children, right?”
“Silly, we have kein kinder. I told you last night I knew how to take care of meinself and ….Are you mocking me, Dick?”
“No. I’m mocking me. I get the picture, Herta. Maybe I’ll see you around the campus sometime, okay?”
She didn’t get that, either. But she kissed him in a disgustingly sisterly way and left him to field-strip and clean the forward Maxim in peace, and feeling a lot better than she’d found him.
He’d just finished and lashed the tarp over the machine gun when Antigone joined him alone in the bows.
There seemed to be a lot of that going around this morning for some reason.
The petite Greek girl looked shyly aft, threw her arms around him to give him a far from sisterly kiss, and asked, “Why didn’t you come to me last night, you brute?”
He pointed at the covered machine gun and said, “I was sort of busy.”
She laughed and said, “It’s just as well. In all the excitement, more than one crewman passed my open door to find my bunk chaste and pure. I heard some of them laughing just now about poor Socrates. I fear I was not the only one who heard him entertaining someone next door to me last night. Naturally, none of the others will admit it was he. So it’s the talk of the ship, and if we are very very discreet—”
“What time do you want me to drop by, Sweet Stuff?” he cut in.
She fluttered her lashes and said, “Not to my quarters. It’s too dangerous, with everyone trying to catch Socrates right next door to me. I took some bedding and pillows down to the hold just now. There’s a crate of ship’s stores I had almost emptied and, well, now it is empty, and discreetly lashed in a corner with the only opening facing the bulkhead and…”
He cut in again to say, “I admire a lady who thinks on her feet about her ass. I’ll come to you by moonlight, though hell should bar the way, or unless someone sinks us first.”
She giggled and asked, “Would you like to see our love nest now?”
He said, with a wistful smile, “Hold the thought. This damned fog’s lifting and someone could need me on deck in a hurry.”
“But you promise to come tonight?”
“Honey, I promise to come all night, if we live that long.”
*
They did, but it wasn’t easy. The fog thinned out within the hour and, when it did, the lookout, topside, spotted steamer smoke to the northeast and called it down to Venezis, who swore and called for reverse screw. Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “Steady as she goes, Skipper. If they’re over the horizon to us we’re over the same to them, and we’re not throwing smoke, thanks to internal combustion.”
Venezis spat the right orders in Greek, but asked in English, “What if it’s one of those fast new Yankee torpedo rams?”
“We’d sure better hope it doesn’t spot us,” Captain Gringo replied, adding, “All sorts of ships are patrolling the Half Moon reefs over that way, Skipper. We’re never going to make it around the bulge if we duck every smoke plume in these parts. The idea is to get around to the west as soon as possible so there’ll be fewer to duck!”
“I don’t like this at all,” Venezis protested, looking all about as he added, “It’s too fine a day to be sailing such waters. That damned sky is clear as far as the eye can see and the damned horizon line is sharp as a razor in every direction. There’s no way for a patrol boat to miss a shark fin against the skyline right now!”
He was right. The lookout called down in Greek. Venezis said, “Skata!” and whirled to stare back along their wake. Captain Gringo turned too, to watch the dark lateen sails coming their way from the southwest and observe laconically, “Yep, that’s a coastal pirate, sure as shit. They can drop that rig flat in less than a full minute. I told you that patrol boat’s smoke plume was too far out to worry about. Our chums back there must have just put out of the mangroves to see what kind of goodies we might have aboard.”
Venezis said, grim faced, “I know what that other vessel is. Our Aegean Sea scum use the same Arab rig. What are you waiting for? You still have your machine gun covered, dammit!”
“Simmer down and order full speed, Skipper. We ought to be able to outrun ’em without a firelight. I’d just as soon not have one with something bigger patrolling the same waters just out of sight but maybe not out of earshot. The wind’s hardly blowing right now and the sounds of gunshots carry pretty good over water, you know.”
Venezis ordered full speed ahead. It soon became obvious that wasn’t doing them much good. The Greek skipper stared aft and said, “I don’t understand. You’re right about the light airs. So how is that goddamned lugger moving so fast? Lateen sails are fast, but not that fast!”
Captain Gringo said, “Obviously they have an engine, too, and a good one. They’re just using their sails to hold them steady on one heel as they overtake us. It’s a pain in the ass to have to aim a deck gun with said deck rocking under you a lot, see?”
“I see all too well what they intend! Shouldn’t we put our own canvas up for the same reasons?”
“No. We don’t have deck guns to worry about. So let the pricks guess which way we’re about to yaw when they get within range. I can aim a Maxim from any angle and with bare poles we’ll be more maneuverable than them.”
Gaston came aft to join them, rubbing his eyes as he muttered, “What is going on, Dick? I just awoke to find us tearing madly at full speed through the chop.” Then he spotted what they were looking at and said, “Merde alors, I thought the Royal Navy had cleared this stretch of the Mosquito Coast.”
Captain Gringo said, “That was last year. There seem to be some new kids on the block. From the way they’re moving, they don’t look like the usual native fishermen turned rogue. That tub has a mighty good engine in its hull. Internal combustion, too. They’re not throwing steam-engine smoke.”
Gaston said, “Oui, they must take their profession trés seriously. I’d better get up to the bow gun, hein?”
“Not yet. See how they’re holding their position well out of gun range?”
“Oui; they obviously don’t intend to move in on us until we’re both clear of that gunboat smoke I now regard to seaward. As I said, they must be professionals who know their chosen trade.”
Venezis said, “Oh, God, I told that damned Papadakis I did not wish to come to America!”
Captain Gringo said, “Relax. Gaston and me are pros, too. If you have to do something while we wait ’em out, make sure none of the others pop out on deck uninvited. It could start getting sort of noisy around here before too long.”
The skipper made the sign of the cross and moved forward, leaving them alone with the sweating but silent helmsman, who probably only knew half of what was going on. Captain Gringo said, “Damn. I should have told him to get Forsythe. We may need a man at the wheel I can talk to.”
Gaston said he’d go get the Jamaican. But he didn’t have to. Great minds seem to run along the same channels, and the big black came around the cabin coaming to call out, “Skipper says we got more trouble, Mon. What’s up?”
Captain Gringo pointed at the lateen sails behind them and told Forsythe to see for himself. The Jamaican whistled and said, “I know that lugger, Mon. That’s old Providencia Pete and the centerboard lugger, No Quarter!”
“Is he a friend of yours, Jamaica?”
“Providencia Pete ain’t got no friends, Mon. His mammy hated him so much she kept dropping him on his head when he was a chil’. That boy is one mean nigger, and he feeds his crew on rum and gunpowder, too!”
“Okay, if he’s looking for trouble he came to the right place. Take the wheel and when he moves in we’ll give him some crossfire, too.’ ’
“Won’t work.” Forsythe sighed, adding, “That old boy ain’t just mean. He’s smart. He may not know about the machine guns, but he won’t close within range of small arms anyhow. Soon as we don’t have that smoke plume over yonder, Old Providencia Pete means to open up on us with his deck guns. Rifled breech-loading two-inchers, long range. You mind do I make a suggestion? It’s sorty of sneaky.”
“By all means, Jamaica. I sure don’t have an answer for long-range deck guns!”
Forsythe explained how it was the custom of those who knew the pirate and his customs to hoist a white flag and start tossing presents over the side to him. Half the time, if Providencia Pete was pleased with the results, and the endangered vessel kept going, he’d give up the chase. The pirate knew he could always overtake his victims again if they tried to satisfy him with cheap trade goods.
Captain Gringo started to ask what they had on board to toss over the side to the pirates. But Gaston said, “Mon Dieu, could anyone I know still be that innocent? You take the wheel, Forsythe, I shall prepare the tribute for our Jolly Rogers, hein?”
So, less than two hours later, with the smoke of the distant patrol boat no longer haunting the horizon to seaward, the Peirene hoisted a pillow case and slowed down as the grinning Gaston heaved what looked like a sea chest over the stem and let it trail aft on a long line. But as the No Quarter moved closer, the sponger edged away like a nervous virgin, staying just out of range as the pirate skipper laughed and called out to his crew, “I told you they was sissies. But keep that deck gun trained on them anyway, whilst we see what they think their white asses is worth.”
The No Quarter reversed its screw as it bore down on the bobbing sea chest and a crewman leaned out over the side to haul it aboard with his gaff hook.
He didn’t. Aboard the Peirene, Gaston sparked together the bare copper ends of his improvised battery line, and the sea chest, along with the pirate lugger, No Quarter, dissolved in a fireball of exploding dynamite!
As the shock wave passed over t
he schooner, Venezis stared in wonder at the falling debris and said, “By the beard of Pantocrator, it worked! Shall we see if there were any survivors?”
The two soldiers of fortune just looked at him, and he said, “Sorry. Dumb question, once one thinks about it.”
*
It was good to be home again in a sweet old-fashioned girl as Captain Gringo lay with Antigone in her improvised love nest down in the hold that night.
She’d been right about it being what she called discreet. He’d never have thought to look between the nondescript packing case and the bulkhead, even if he’d expected to find someone playing slap and tickle down there in the dark.
The inside was fixed up soft and comfy with the pillows and bedding she’d smuggled from her quarters, and, even better, by bracing his bare feet against the inside of the crate he was able to put it to her deep as hell with those two pillows under her sweet little derriere. She said she liked it, too.
They couldn’t smoke between times. Aside from the danger of someone wondering why they smelled tobacco smoke coming from a deck vent, it was already stuffy enough down there. Before holding their naked bodies, the packing case had been stuffed with coffee and goat cheese. Gaston had been right about Greek cheese being an acquired taste. But Antigone smelled just right as she rubbed her perspiring naked flesh against his, so what the hell.
He’d already established that she liked her loving old-fashioned, albeit often. So he didn’t suggest anything acrobatic, even if it had been possible in such close quarters. He was glad he hadn’t when, during a pause for pillow conversation and, hopefully, renewed inspiration. Antigone snuggled close and said, “This is nice. But I’ll be glad when I can use my real bunk again. It should be safe tomorrow night, darling. Nobody is watching Socrates next door now. They’ve found out who he’s been doing you-know-what with.” He grimaced and said, “Remind me never to make love to Socrates behind a keyhole. Who’d they catch him with?”
“You’ll never guess. It’s that Swiss, Fitzke.”
