Beyond the Rim/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII
TUAN YUCK DROPS HIS MASK
CHALMERS awoke before sunrise, with stiffened limbs still aching from the struggle in the quicksand. He had turned in all standing and he now surveyed himself ruefully. Drying sand dripped from him like water, and his usually natty appearance was changed to that of a beachcomber sadly down on his luck.
A glance through the window showed Sayers still asprawl over the table. The flap of Leila Denman's tent was closed. He resolved to swim off to the schooner and secure fresh clothing, coming back in the whaleboat with Tuan Yuck.
He walked to the edge of the water, took off his belt and laid it with the automatic in its holster on a ledge of rocks. Then he stripped and swam out through the cool water with long, luxurious strokes, his tired muscles relaxing, and hauled himself up to the bows by the bobstay.
As he went toward the cabin, he saw Hamaku and Tomi by the taffrail busily plucking the last of the schooner's chickens. The natives responded to his greeting in a surly fashion they had developed of late.
Chalmers took no notice of it.
“Bimeby you bring chicken along shore for breakfast,” he said.
Hamaku muttered something and Tomi laughed. Chalmers took the men up smartly.
“What was that?” he demanded.
“Big Boss speak you eat along schooner this morning,” replied Hamaku, a spice of impudence in tone and look.
“What Big Boss? You sabe plenty I your boss?”
“Tuan Yuck he speak you boss along ship maybe. He boss along land. We along land now.”
Chalmers looked at the man. The native's eyes shifted.
“Tuan Yuck he plenty big kahuna (wizard),” he said, half surly, half apologetic.
Chalmers forebore to press the point. It was evident that Tuan Yuck had impressed the natives with his own power through the most effective medium, their superstition. But he determined that Leila Denman, at least, should not come aboard the schooner until matters were satisfactorily arranged.
“You fetch me two, three pail fresh water,” he said.
The natives obeyed and sluiced the brine from his skin. He went below to his own cabin, opposite the Chinaman's, and put on fresh underwear, clean duck trousers and a shirt. Then he fished out a pair of shoes, slipped them on and went into the main cabin.
Tuan Yuck's door opened and the Oriental came out, fully dressed. He expressed no surprise at Chalmers' appearance, beyond the slightest lift of his eyebrows at the latter's spruceness.
THEY rowed ashore in silence, and Chalmers retrieved his belt and pistol. As they walked up the beach, Leila Denman came toward them. Her face was pale, despite its golden weather-tan, but her eyes were clear and steady with only the faint trace of weeping about their long-lashed rims.
She greeted them cordially with perfect self-possession, with something almost boyish in her erectness and the way she gave to each her cool, slim hand.
“I don't know, Miss Denman,” said Tuan Yuck, “whether Mr. Chalmers has told you that I am the chef of this expedition, but such is the case. And if you will breakfast with us aboard the schooner I can promise you broiled chicken and some excellent coffee. Perhaps you will give us some Motutabu papayas in exchange?”
Chalmers, standing beside him, caught the girl's glance and slightly shook his head.
“I am not so lacking in hospitality,” she answered, accepting the cue without hesitation. “Though I must admit the chicken sounds tempting. I have almost forgotten what one looks like.”
Chalmers, watching Tuan Yuck, thought he saw disappointment in the Oriental's eyes. But it did not show in his voice as he replied.
“That will be delightful. But you must let us provide the chickens.” He turned and gave an order in Hawaiian to the natives, who started for the boat.
A hoarse shout stopped them. Sayers, sodden with liquor, unkempt and morose, slouched off the veranda and joined them. Leila bestowed an involuntary look upon his uncouth figure in the crumpled, dingy ducks, that made the Australian flush and mutter something about changing his clothes before he shambled down the beach and went off to the schooner.
The meal was served out-of-doors at a table placed under the hala trees. Leila Denman sat at one end, facing Tuan Yuck, with Chalmers at her right, opposite Sayers. The Australian gave evidence that his principal mission to the schooner had been to satisfy his appetite for liquor. He ate nothing, but sat with his hairy fingers beating a nervous tattoo on the table.
The Chinaman waited for the Hawaiians. to clear away before he spoke. The quality of the Oriental's mood showed in his glances. His face was bland as ever, but his eyes held the hardness of orbs of polished metal. A sinister sternness seemed to emanate from the man as hidden flame or ice might make itself manifest.
To Chalmers the morning was rife with a prescience of malignancy that pressed on him even as the air. He sat with his mind alert, his nerves tense for action, waiting for the move that should determine what that action was to be.
“In the matter of leaving the island, Miss Denman,” said Tuan Yuck at last. “Is there any particular place you want to go—Sydney, for example, or Honolulu?”
He spoke with grave courtesy, but to Chalmers, question and tone alike were tinged with mockery.
“I hardly know,” she answered. “I have practically no relatives.” Chalmers saw a swift glitter in Tuan Yuck's eyes. “I have no mother—we were quite alone, father and I.”
Sayers' tongue clucked suddenly and his restless fingers pressed on the table till the tips whitened.
“You should consider that you are quite an heiress,” went on the Chinaman, “that is, if the character of the shell already rotted out is any criterion, the lagoon should hold a fortune. The shells on the beach are typical pearl oysters. Aside, of course, from what your father found already?”
The inflection of the speech made it a question. Leila answered it readily.
“He found a great many,” she said. “Some of them I believe are very valuable, though I am no judge.”
Sayers's dull eyes sparkled. The glitter in Tuan Yuck's gaze intensified.
“Ah!” he said, simply but the ejaculation was far from colorless. “I should like to see them. I may be able to give you some idea of what they are really worth.”
The girl got up from the table and went into her tent before Chalmers could prevent her. Sayers's glance followed her greedily, his jaw was thrust forward. The veins on his forehead seemed to writhe, and his big stumpy-fingered hands worked as if they already clutched the gems. Tuan Yuck sat immobile, his glittering eyes the only sign of life in the masklike face. Chalmers leaned forward speaking in a low voice.
“There is to be no bargaining,” he said firmly. “Her heritage is all that is left her. You know our agreement?”
Tuan Yuck turned his baleful eyes toward the speaker. The shadow of a smile, or a sneer, flitted across his face.
“What agreement?” demanded Sayers hoarsely.
“You called it a gentlemen's agreement, Sayers,” said Chalmers. “At all events I intend to see it carried out. We are not going to rob the dead or cheat the living while I can prevent it.”
Sayers's retort was stopped by the reappearance of the girl, bearing a shallow wooden bowl. The Australian's tongue showed between his teeth like a panting dog's, his face was patched with purple, his eyes bloodshot, gazing on the calabash as if hypnotized.
Leila Denman set the polished bowl of native wood on the table before Tuan Yuck. It seemed to be nearly full of a milky opalescence. Sayers stood up and looked at it. He gave a bellow of disappointment.
“Those ain't all?” he demanded.
The girl looked up with surprise at the rudeness of his tone.
“These are only the seeds and baroques,” she said. “I always carry the real pearls here to keep them in good condition.”
She put her hand into the opening of her middy blouse and pulled up from her breast a bag of soft leather, untying the narrow silk ribbon that suspended it from her neck. About the collar of her blouse she wore a black silk handkerchief. This she unfastened and spread out on the table. On to it she poured out from the bag a number of shimmering globules that shone with satiny luster as they rolled a little way here and there and settled into groups.
Chalmers, who knew little of pearls, held his breath at the beauty of the nacreous mass of varying color, silver and rose and azure. The sunshine checkered the table-top with gold, and in it the pearls seemed to be alive, so vivid was the iridescence. A few were small, the majority larger than the pink pearl of Taroi. At least a dozen were the size of husked hazel-nuts and two, almost perfectly matched for size and shape, were as big as marbles, glorified, transcendent marbles, rosy-silver of hue with a bloom that seemed almost fuzzy in its refraction.
Tuan Yuck's eyes blazed. Sayers, his hands gripping the table, rocked gently to and fro as he stood licking his feverish lips with the tip of his tongue.
“There are fifty-nine of them,” said Leila Denman. “They are beautiful, aren't they?”
TUAN YUCK, with fingers that trembled ever so slightly, drew the black square of silk with its precious contents slowly toward him. Sayers, breathing hard, followed every inch of the Chinaman's movements with fascinated avarice as Tuan Yuck delicately turned over the pearls with his pointed fingers.
“It is hard to fix values,” he said. “All these are exceptionally well shaped and they are wonderfully alive, owing to your plan of keeping them close to your body, Miss Denman. These pearls—” he set apart six of the gems—“are easily worth twenty-five hundred apiece. There are ten at least worth much more than that. This matched pair I have never seen equaled. Their value is only to be estimated after they get in the market. I might miss the price they'll fetch by thousands. Roughly speaking I do not believe I am exaggerating by saying that the lot should represent between one hundred and fifty thousand and two hundred thousand dollars.”
Leila Denman's face matched the palest of the pearls despite her tan. Chalmers gasped. Sayers moistened his dry lips with his tongue before he could speak in a voice that squeaked ludicrously.
“And the lagoon!” he ejaculated.
Tuan Yuck lifted his shoulders in a non-committal shrug.
“These may have come from an exceptionally rich patch,” he said. His voice had lost its silkiness and sounded sharply vibrant. “Pearl oysters are sick oysters and the sickness often runs in colonies or patches. The lagoon may yield as many more like these, or less. Or it may hold pearls to almost fabulous values, like the lagoon of Faleita where Nacre Williams harvested over four million dollars before he stripped it. Lagoons are lotteries.”
He replaced the pearls gently, one by one, in the little bag and placed it on top of the seed pearls in the calabash in the center of the table.
“You are a very rich young woman, Miss Denman,” he said.
The girl set a hand to her heart.
“It seems so unfair,” she said. “Father risked his life for them. If it was not for them he would be alive. All that money, and none of it of use to help him.”
“Pearls ain't much good on a desert island,” said Sayers, looking hungrily at the bowl with its precious contents. “They ain't pills, you know.”
Leila Denman looked at him but he seemed unconscious of his grossness. The man had coarsened rapidly in the last few hours. He laughed at what he esteemed a witticism.
“They wouldn't have been good for anything except to play marbles on the beach with, miss,” he went on. “I'll warrant you'd be glad to trade 'em for a home trip.”
Chalmers set his jaw, clenching his fists till the nails scored his palms. The pieces were being set on the board.
“Put your pearls away, Miss Denman,” he said.
She reached for the bag but drew back her hand as Sayers clapped his big palm over the top of the calabash.
“Hold on a minute,” he said. “There's no use beating about the bush. When your schooner got wrecked, miss, and all hands lost, I was the only one who found out where you and your father were stranded—lost in the middle of the ocean. You'd both of you have rotted if it hadn't been for me. I got up this expedition and Tuan Yuck there financed it. Young Galahad there,” he nodded at Chalmers, “was navigator. We were all in the deal. And it wasn't a pleasure trip. It cost money and we expect returns on the investment.”
“That seems only fair,” said the girl, trembling a little as she sensed the growing excitement. “How much do you want?”
“The expenses have been about two thousand dollars,” broke in Chalmers. “The schooner can be resold for something. Give these men five thousand apiece for their investment returns, as they call them, and that will end it.”
Sayers laughed loudly. Tuan Yuck's eyes danced behind their slitted lids like a mocking devil's. He said nothing, content while Sayers played his game.
“And you?” asked the girl, turning to Chalmers.
“I want nothing,” he answered.
“To with you!” cried Sayers. “Because you are stuck on a pretty face do you think our brains are addled? This is a business proposition. It's all—or nothing!”
Chalmers' hand dropped to the grip of his automatic. Leila Denman looked at Tuan Yuck sitting opposite to her, bland, motionless, his cold glittering eyes the only signs of life or interest.
“You see,” he answered her look, “our impulses are entirely mercenary. Chalmers has suffered a change of heart, quite natural at his age.”
“You promised fair treatment and no bargaining!” cried Chalmers hotly.
Tuan Yuck emitted a derisive sound like a goat's bleat.
“You are still very young,” he answered.
“We're wasting time,” said Sayers. “I want to get at that lagoon. When we're through with that you two can get a free passage home, or you can stay behind and play Adam and Eve for all we care. Meanwhile I'll take care of these.”
He lifted the bag in his left hand as Chalmers sprang to his feet, leveling his pistol at Sayers' head. The Australian drew simultaneously and fired as Chalmers pressed the trigger.
There was only one shot. The action of Chalmers' automatic had been choked by the quicksand. He heard the bark of Sayers's gun and felt the heat of the flame from the barrel as he vaulted across the table and crashed into the startled Australian. His swift leap had disconcerted Sayers's none-too-steady aim, and the bullet had gone wild.
Chalmers rushed his man who was still staggering from the impact. Sayers fired again wildly and in the same fraction of a second Chalmers' right smashed viciously up and landed on the Australian's jaw, straightening him for a second before he began to sag like a half-filled sack of meal and pitched forward senseless under the table.
The girl stood wide-eyed. The table was strewn with the scattered seed pearls and baroques, but the bag of pearls had vanished. Tuan Yuck stood at the other end of the table imperturbable, his arms folded. It was not his policy to interfere while others played his game, and the elimination of Chalmers or Sayers, or both of them, fitted in with the moves of his opening play.
“Have you got them?” asked Chalmers.
She shook her bead, looking at Tuan Yuck.
Chalmers whirled. The Oriental's elbow twitched and Chalmers flung himself upon him, pinning his arms to his sides and grappling for the gun concealed in the long sleeves, twisting him round and bending him over the table until it seemed as if the Chinaman's back must break.
Tuan Yuck struggled fiercely but silently. Writhing, he snapped at Chalmers with his teeth like a mad dog, frothing at the lips, his eyes glaring, the mask of his face distorted with rage and pain. The pressure of his spine against the table-edge beneath Chalmers' weight paralyzed his nerve centers. His body collapsed beneath Chalmers's weight, his arms grew limp and the automatic fell to the ground.
“Give me that gun, Miss Denman,” panted Chalmers.
The girl came swiftly to his side, knelt and picked it up. She was trembling, but she controlled her weakness and thrust the pistol into Chalmers' groping hand.
“I've got the pearls, too,” she said. “They fell out of his sleeve.”
Tuan Yuck, as his cracking spine got relief, suddenly shouted aloud in Hawaiian. Chalmers clamped his left hand over his mouth and rammed the automatic's muzzle viciously under the Chinaman's armpit.
“I'll kill you, cheerfully,” he said, “if you don't keep quiet.”
Tuan Yuck knew that he meant it. “Let me up,” he whispered. “You've broken my back.”
“Put up your hands!”
Tuan Yuck obeyed with a groan as Chalmers suffered him to stand up. His eyes gleamed as he straightened. Leila Denman cried out in swift alarm—
“The Kanakas!”
Chalmers, grinding the pistol-muzzle into Tuan Yuck's ribs, heard the soft pad of running feet on the firm sand behind him. It was Hamaku and Tomi coming to the rescue of the Big Boss.
“Tell them to stop,” he said to Tuan Yuck. “In English! Quick!”
The Chinaman sullenly obeyed. The natives halted half-way down the beach.
“Tell them to go back—down to the water. Watch them, Miss Denman.”
“They're going,” she reported.
“All right. Now, do you think you can get me Sayers's gun? Take off his belt.”
The girl was behind him and he did not see the strained look on her face nor the effort with which she pulled herself together. The loss of her father, the disclosure of the intentions of Tuan Yuck and Sayers, culminating with the swift turmoil of the last few minutes, had taxed her strength to the utmost. She did not trust herself to answer, but knelt beside Sayers, prostrate under the table, unfastened his belt and dragged it from beneath his body. He moaned a little, and she hurried back to where Chalmers still held the pistol against the Chinaman's body.
“He's coming to,” she said.
“Quickly then,” he answered, unconscious of everything but the need of haste. “Take the pistol out of the holster. Put down your arms,” he commanded Tuan Yuck. “Now give me the belt, Miss Denman. Hold the gun against him. Arms close to your sides, Tuan Yuck. Now, Miss Denman, I'm going to strap him up. Remember he wouldn't hesitate to kill us. Fire if he makes a move. Can you do it?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lips in the attempt to steady her voice. Chalmers cast a swift glance at her. Her face was deadly white, but her chin was uptilted and her eyes narrowed with determination. He swiftly ran Sayers' belt about the Chinaman's body, cinching it until the leather sank into the flesh.
“That holds him,” he said triumphantly. “Now for the legs.” He used his own belt to truss the other's ankles and leaned Tuan Yuck helplessly against a tree. “That's all over,” said Chalmers. “Now for Sayers. Bravo for you, Miss Denman.”
Even as he spoke the girl swayed, her eyes closed, the pistol dropped from her hand and she swooned. Chalmers caught her about the waist as she fell. Under the table Sayers was dragging himself up to his knees. Down the beach Hamaku and Tomi had jumped into the whaleboat and were pulling furiously for the schooner.
Chalmers thought rapidly. Hampered with the unconscious girl, the odds were against him. The rifles they had brought ashore the day before were still in the house, but there were more aboard the schooner. If Hamaku had gone for them they might be picked off at long range unless they sought cover.
He lowered the girl gently to the ground and picked up his own pistol from beside the table, as Sayers got waveringly to his feet and lunged toward him. Sidestep ping, he brought the butt of the automatic down on the top of the Australian's head. Blood spurted and Sayers fell like a log.
Chalmers thrust all the guns into the bosom of his shirt and stooped to pick up the girl once more. Tuan Yuck still leaned helplessly against the tree, his eyes malignant as a shark's. The thought came into Chalmers' brain to kill both him and Sayers and make an end of it. For a second he hesitated.
A bullet came whining through the little grove high above his head. Hamaku had remembered the other rifles and was firing from the deck of the schooner. Another shot came lower but wide and to the right. With the girl in his arms Chalmers ran to the house, the bullets trailing him, sped up the veranda steps and into the house where he laid Leila on the bed.
The Winchesters were leaning against the bureau. He pumped a cartridge into the lever of one of them and knelt by the door to aim. Hamaku had jumped into the boat and was crouching in the bows while Tomi rowed for the shore.
Guessing at the range, Chalmers fired. The bullet hit the water and ricochetted, skipping over the surface close to the boat.
Hamaku replied and the shot smashed the window of the house, thudding into the wall above the girl and going on through the frail woodwork. Chalmers wondered at the native's skill, then remembered he had been a member of the Hawaiian National Guard. The flimsy house was only a protection in the way it might hide them from his aim.
He took the senseless girl from the bed and carried her into the next room and put her on the floor for safety. Back at the door again, he found the boat had landed under the cover of some rocks between which Hamaku and Tomi were now crawling toward the clearing.