No Man's Island/Chapter 8
VIII
AS A final object-lesson to Tiburi, the Mary L. proceeded under power to the crater. Steiner and his men, many of them pitifully weak from fever, dysentery and semi-starvation, were assembled amidships between fore and mainmast. There seemed little occasion to guard men in such condition, but Hooper took no chances, and four of the crew patrolled with automatics and rifles.
With the completion of the task well in sight. Hooper unleashed his energies. After a short consultation with Manning he ordered Steiner to be brought down to the cabin. The ober-leutnant, clad in white ducks that fitted him fairly well, braced by the food taken up to the stockade, held himself with rigid reserve that did not lack dignity, despite his tangle of hair and beard.
“I am going to set you and your men ashore on the terrace, Steiner,” said Hooper. “In your own camp. You will be supplied with provisions and utensils and you will arrange for your own cooking. You will also have medicines and bedding. You will not attempt to leave the terrace.”
Steiner, erect, impassive, said nothing. But his light blue eyes were baleful. He carried the newspapers under his arm.
“You will be guarded, for your own safety as well as my own peace of mind,” went on Hooper. “I do not trust you. When we are ready to leave, we shall take you with us to Honolulu. That is all. I have provided the means for hair-cutting and shaving,” he added.
Without a word Steiner turned and left the cabin, followed by the man who had come with him as a guard.
“He hardly looks dangerous,” suggested Manning. “But I’ve an idea the man is consumed with curiosity. He knows you did not come down here solely on his account. And that type is always dangerous.”
“None of the crowd are seriously sick,” replied Hooper. “A few days of good food and a little medicine and freedom from that stockade, and they’ll pick up again. They are a sturdy lot. Sixteen of them, all told. That means Tiburi has seven skulls in his house. I don’t see what they could do but we had best be careful. There were some articles in those papers that spoke of punishment to those Germans who had been foremost in horribleness. Steiner has several boats’ crews on his mind—not on his conscience. He may fear reprisal at Honolulu. A trial, or being handed over to the Allied authorities for court martial. I hardly think it likely, but it is possible, of course. That will be up to the Naval commandant or whoever takes them over.
“He’ll likely instil that idea into his men and regain some official control over them. Shouldn’t wonder if he has already by sheer example in that stockade prison. He was the only man who retained any show of grit. I wouldn’t wonder if the rest of them were sorry the war ever started and glad it’s over. But they are all puppets and Steiner is their strong man.”
“He’d like to get possession of the schooner and emulate the survivors of the Emden, I imagine,” said Manning. “But I don’t see where they’ve got much chance to do more than grit their teeth. Have a hard time getting away from that terrace with Tiburi waiting to scoop them up and glean more gifts as a reward.”
“We’ll guard them, just the same. I’ll use those four men Edwards gave us for one watch. Time they began to earn their wages. Smith, Holabird, White and Hayes. Andersen and Thompson, with the Finn and another sailor, can relieve them. Watch and watch, eight hours. That leaves your assistants free for your job.”
Andersen came part way down the companion to report.
“Heading up for that reef opening, sir.”
“All right, I’ll take the deck. Port and starboard boats to be ready after we anchor. Edwards will superintend putting supplies aboard for the Germans. We are going to maroon them on the terrace until we sail. Arm Smith, Hayes, Holabird and White with rifles and automatics. Extra clips and full magazines. They’re to go on guard until nine this evening. You and Thompson will relieve them. I’ll see you about the details later.”
They followed the mate on deck where he prepared to carry out his orders. Hooper himself mounted to the fore-spreaders to con the schooner through the entrance in the outer reef. The tide was flooding and there was plenty of water under their keel in the narrow break in the coral. He ordered the wheel aport and the Mary L. entered the placid channel between the two reefs, coming to anchor in fourteen fathoms with a spring cable to a kedge carried to the inner reef for extra precaution. The barometer was steady, the weather promised fair.
The boats were filled, Manning and Hooper in the stern of one, Thompson and Edwards in the other. All four carried pistols. Two armed guards were in each boat. The second entrance was plainly too shallow for any attempt to take the schooner inside the lagoon proper. And it was wide-ledged. Hooper and Manning both gaged it closely as their boat went through.
“Take days to blast that,” said Manning. “Waste of time, I think. You’ll be needing the whale-boats, I suppose. Why not get two big canoes from Tiburi and put a platform on them for my equipment?”
“Good idea. You are going to use the suit that needs the air-pump?”
“I prefer it. May use both. Can’t tell, till I make a descent. Sand may have filled in. In that case I’ll use Fong to help me. Where is the wreck?”
They spoke in low tones. It was obvious that the sailors were all ears, leaning far forward on their strokes to catch a word.
“About a quarter of a mile to the right,” said Hooper. “We’ll take a look at it as we come back.”
The gap in the side of the crater, which had once emptied it of lava and later admitted the sea, showed like the blow of a giant’s ax in the cliffs of obsidian. As they neared it and caught a fair view of the inner walls the contrast was startling. Half of the crater was in shadow, though it was only midafternoon. The other half showed a jungle of vivid green, palms lifting here and there, water streaming down the sides. One of these cascades fell to a tiny beach to their left, just inside the entrance.
At the far end the great images stood on their stone terrace, staring at the invaders with blind eyes, elliptical in shape, carven deeply in the lava. As they came closer, a trick of light and shade gave them a semblance of crafty watching. There were eleven of these gods, graven and set up by a forgotten race. The largest was in the center and the cliff had crumbled under its weight, a fissure showing beneath the pedestal, so that the image tilted forward at a dangerous angle, threatening whoever intruded into this crater temple.
Trees had sprouted along the terrace and vines twined between the slim trunks. One of these lianas had fairly lassoed the smallest god and lifted it from its pedestal into the air.
The bodies had been dwarfed and distorted. The great faces had long, disproportionate noses above grim lips. There was nothing of benignity about them. They seemed to be biding their time, in brooding resentment, like strange monsters turned to stone. Back of them showed clefts in the cliff, the caves of which Hooper had spoken.
Below the terrace two trails led right and left in zigzag from the beach where Thompson and Hooper had been kept. There, too, were caves, but open to the water. The trails had been fashioned into stairways with wide, shallow treads, faced once with stone slabs that had been shoved out of place by the rank growth of bush and grass. Some were entirely displaced.
The terrace was nearly twenty feet in width. On it were the grass houses that Steiner had built, still in fair preservation. The Germans were escorted to their old camp and the guards installed after the supplies were landed. As the boats rowed off, Manning, twisting in the stern, saw Steiner standing beside the great central image, less in height than the massive pedestal, staring down at them.
HOOPER ordered one boat back to the schooner and steered his own along the inner reef. Manning got ready a water-glass he had brought with him, a hopper-shaped, lidless box with a glass bottom, part of his outfit. Hooper gave the order to paddle slowly and hung over the side, one arm raised. Presently he dropped it and the men ceased rowing.
“Back water. Easy! There, Manning, we’re right over her.”
The diver plunged the glass of his finder below the surface, leaning far over the gunwale, his face lost in the box.
He saw, far down through the crystal water, as if he had been looking through green glass, the broken hull of the Moanamanu. Shoals of brilliant-colored fish swam about above it and played over the decks and through the gaps in the planks. Sea-growths had sprung up already, waving gently in the undercurrents. The bottom was sandy, patched with coral, thick with marine shrubbery. The rowers poised their oars, their eyes shifting, wide with curiosity. The dripping from the blades to the surface of the still lagoon, was the Only sound in the boat.
Manning raised his head.
“Masts all gone by the board,” he said. “Nasty tangle of rigging. Decks are badly broken, but that would be the air. Inner decks likely intact. But there’ll be sand inside the hull by the looks of it. We’ll have to clear it and that is a tedious job. We’ll make two descents a day It’s clumsy work using hand tools. Two days’ job, I reckon it. Make it three, after we get started.”
“We’ve had enough for one day, I think,” said Hooper. “I fancy our friend Tiburi will be round bright and early tomorrow to see if he can get some more trade, not to mention gin. We’ll have the tribe on top of us most of the time. Like so many kids and, as long as you and Fong are working in the suits, as harmless. We’ll set some of them to work fixing up your pontoon for you. Logs across the canoes and then gratings and planks for the real deck will do it. The rest can stock us up with fresh provisions.
“Look at those mullet,” he cried as a school of silver fish rose above the surface. “Two and three-pounders. We must have a mess or two of those before we go. Finest eating in the world. We’ll dynamite ’em. That’s the only use we’re likely to have for the stuff, I’m thinking.”
He spoke buoyantly and Manning was in like mood. The sight of the sunken wreck made the pearls seem more real, almost tangible. The diver’s experience told him that the task that lay before them was not overdifficult. Soon they would be off for Honolulu, with a third of a million dollars in gems aboard. And, from this adventure, he looked forward to others. With Hooper. Where and what, time would show. There was always something to be turned up south of Cancer for men of their kidney. All thoughts of retirement ashore, or cruising for pleasure in a little sloop, had left him.
At nine the relief went off to the terrace and the four guards came back to report that Steiner had established order in his camp and that the men were cheerful. They had cleared out two of the houses and occupied them. There was fresh water in one of the caves.
“Last I see of ’em,” Holabird told his skipper, “one of ’em was playin’ barber to the rest. The officer, he got shaved first of all and had his hair clipped short to his head. He’s got one house all to himself and two of ’em told off to wait on him. Three or four seem pretty sick but the rest are lively enough. Cooked up some chow that smelled mighty good. Turned in by now, I guess.”
“All right, Holabird. You four will relieve Mr. Andersen’s guard at five in the morning. Better turn in yourselves now. You’ll be on until two bells in the afternoon watch.”
The man saluted and went on deck.
But neither he nor his companions turned in. When Manning and Hooper went up—Manning having proposed and Hooper having accepted the suggestion that in the absence of the mate they should split the deck watch, for Hooper did not place implicit confidence in Tiburi—they found the watch on deck, the watch below and the four guards gathered in groups, discussing something avidly in low tones.
There were no duties to be performed at anchor, except a perfunctory one or two; there was no especial rule that the men should not stay on deck, but Hooper after an hour sent the guards below with the admonition that he wanted them to get their rest in order to perform properly their duty.
Manning was to watch until midnight and Hooper turned in. The seamen kept chatting and Manning, pacing the after-deck, saw the glow of their pipes and heard now and then a voice raised and quickly hushed. The topic of conversation was evidently both exciting and communal.
He could not eavesdrop; if he went forward they would stop talking. But he sensed something afoot and was not surprized when at last, the watch below having exhausted their interest or dulled it sufficiently to sleep, a figure came forward along the port rail and spoke. It was Fong.
There being no helmsman, Manning was alone on the after-deck. There was no moon and Fong, padding in his felted shoes as softly as a cat, drifted like a shadow. The watch on deck had gathered in the bows, taking anchor privilege of a cat-nap.
“What is it, Fong?” asked Manning.
“Crew talk too much along that sunk ship inside lagoon,” said Fong, his voice dropped to a pipe, clear enough to Manning but inaudible six feet away. “Too much they talk why-for you dive. Some think gold. Some speak peahl. Plenty too much talk they make. They speak along those fo’ men Edwa’d bling with him. Talk they should have mo’ big piecee pay. All same divide that gold, that peahl. Want that two hundled fifty dolla you plomise. Want mo’. Want it now. Tomollow. That Edwa’d talk along that way, I think. Make tlouble.”
“Edwards wasn’t on deck.”
“Too slick fo’ that. All same he tly make double. Tomollow you see. I smoke one li’l pipe in galley. They forget. They think me sleep. I sabby all they talk.”
“All right, Fong. Thanks. I’ll talk it over with Mr. Hooper.”
It was food for thought. The wreck and its mystery had infected the crew. Talk of treasure. Enormously magnified, without doubt. Breeding greed.
Hooper was not disposed to make light of it when he came up at eight bells.
“I’ll have a little talk with Edwards,” he said. “I suppose he has been entertaining them and himself at the same time. But that crew is poor material for bolshevism. We’ll nip that in the bud. The mistake we’ve made is to have not told them at the start what we were after. That it was my own property. But we’ll mend that. We have no proof that Edwards is in this. Fong and he don’t hit it off.”
“Fong doesn’t jump at conclusions,” said Manning. “Good night.”
At dawn the first canoes of Tiburi put in an appearance, hovering outside both reefs until the chief came along in his big canoe, two hours later.
Manning had come on deck again at four, had seen the relief go off to the crater at five and the boat return with Andersen, Thompson and their two assistants, eager for a mug-up and sleep.
Tiburi sheered alongside at six bells, greeting Manning with a grin. It was the first time the chief had seen him, not dreaming that here was Him Who Walks. Tiburi was togged up in beads and rings and gaudy trade handkerchiefs knotted about his loins and he was evidently much pleased. He made signs of wanting to come aboard after he sensed that Manning could not understand his talk, a fact that evidently lowered the diver in his estimation.
Edwards came on deck at this point and approached the rail, calling out a greeting in native.
“Do you talk Melanesian?” asked Manning.
“I know something of the dialect, sir.”
Manning was conscious of annoyance at this fresh proof of Edwards’ ability. The man was too clever to be a steward, he decided. And for the first time he wondered why the man had shipped. A real distrust of him began to evolve. And then he realized he might be biased.
“Wants to come aboard, doesn’t he?” he asked the steward.
“He says he brings gifts, one big gift,” said Edwards. “He’ll be wanting something in return, sir. Including gin. Shall we let him up?”
“With five men only. And call the captain.”
“Very good, sir.”
Edwards spoke a few words and spread the fingers of one hand. Instantly Tiburi and five natives came over the side, grinning amiably. The chief had a bundle in his hand tied up in tapa cloth. The canoe was piled up with fruit, fish and two young, freshly slaughtered pigs. These were handed up and deposited on deck showily while Edwards called Hooper, who came on deck in his pajamas.
Edwards followed with a gin-bottle, at the sight of which Tiburi drooled. At a gesture from the skipper the steward poured out a generous measure in a glass. Tiburi reached for it with one hand and preempted the bottle with his other capacious paw. His men watched him with envious eyes as he swallowed the fiery stuff, ignoring the glass after he had emptied it and applying himself to the bottle. The package in tapa cloth he had put between his feet.
“Tzhah! Evah!”
He smacked his lips with supreme content then broke into a babble of Melanesian. Edwards, standing by Manning, translated for the latter’s benefit.
“He says he brings one very big gift, to show his friendship. He has never before made such a gift. And he hopes the skipper will bear that in mind when he makes gifts in return.”
Tiburi finished his oration and then did the same thing to the bottle of squareface. Apparently it had no other effect upon him than to make him genial and warm his potbelly, which he rubbed appreciatively. Then he squatted on his haunches and unrolled the tapa-cloth bundle.
SEVEN hideous, gruesome things rolled out clumsily on the deck. They were the heads of men, not skulls, but heads smoked for preservation. The curing-process had apparently not been completed. The dried flesh looked like gutta-percha; the twisted lips were set in sardonic smiles. Three of them bore wisps of yellow mustaches. The others were clean shaven. None of them had beards.
Up to the time of Tiburi’s successful coup against Steiner’s camp, they had evidently possessed a razor but no shears. The hair was long, save for one head, which was bald. And from one of these had come the gold-filled teeth that decorated Tiburi’s necklace. He picked up one of the heads by its tow-colored locks and. proffered it to Hooper with a smile that showed his filed teeth, and another flow of words.
“To give away heads,” he says, “is to do what no other chief has done. Now he has delivered all the skipper’s enemies, so far as he is able.”
Hooper stood his ground, surveying the relics gravely. Manning had harder work to control his feelings. Hooper turned to Edwards.
“Bring up some trade,” he said. “Not too much. And one of the trade axes for the chief. Bring something to put these in.”
He appeared to Manning to be thanking Tiburi with sufficient emphasis to suit the chief, who replaced the heads in their pack age and stood up, expectant of the return gifts. Edwards appeared with handkerchiefs and beads and with a cheap hatchet which Hooper presented in person. Tiburi took the ax and felt its edge, wheeled and brandished it suddenly above the heads of his men, delighted as a child with a new toy.
“We’ll have to give those heads decent burial,” said Hooper to Manning. “They prove that he is properly impressed with us, at any rate.”
“We’ll have to keep him away from the schooner while we are diving,” said Manning. “If he sees Fong or myself with our helmets off, or even being rowed over to the pontoon fully dressed, he’ll smell a rat. He seems smart enough. Gods wouldn’t use a boat, not water-gods, anyway. If he ever tumbles to the fact that we are just men, recognizes the fact that the god is me, dressed up, there’ll be trouble.”
“I’ve thought of that,” said Hooper. “It’s easily fixed. I’ll tell him the Hims are going to get something for us out of the wreck. He knows about the wreck, of course. And I’ll tell him they are going to establish a tabu. We’ll set up stakes on the reef with red cloth on ’em and put out buoys with red flags. They’ll keep outside them and we’ll make them far enough way from the pontoon to keep them guessing. We can rig up a screen on the pontoon like we did on deck.”
He spoke to Tiburi authoritatively and the savage listened with awe creeping into his features. Then he smiled, answered, went to the rail and shouted an order, gathered up his gifts, looked longingly and suggestively at the empty bottle and with his men departed overside; paddling away through the inner reef toward the crater. The other canoes followed him. Two canoes had darted away at his command, going fast in the direction of the cone.
“He will respect the tabu,” said Hooper. “He has sent for two canoes for your pontoon and his men will furnish green timber for the under platform. Also all the provisions we want to take. They are going to camp on that little beach just inside, where the water all comes down, so as to be handy. Partly fear, partly hope of more gifts, and mostly curiosity.
“What’s the engine running for?” he asked Edwards as he caught the sound of the exhaust.
“I ordered it connected up with the ice-machine, sir,” said Edwards. “We need some and I thought a cake of ice might surprize the chief. Nothing like a little magic to keep them impressed, sir.”
“Humph! All right.” The ice-machine was part of the original equipment of the Mary L. and its product was very acceptable. “Look here, Edwards.” Hooper went on. “Have you been talking with the men about what we are after in the wreck? They seem to have got some exaggerated ideas about it. I’m going to have a talk with the whole ship’s company later.”
“They’ve been wondering about it, naturally, sir,” replied Edwards frankly. “The idea of a wreck and divers would be sure to stir up talk. They mentioned it to me, some of them, and I told them I didn’t know. Suggested they’d all know for themselves before long. But you can’t keep sailors from gamming, sir. They’ve got an idea it’s gold, I think.” His face was incurious, his manner usual.
“All right, Edwards. I’ll attend to it. I’m holding you responsible for the stores, from now on, with Mr. Thompson on guard-duty. And the gin.”
“Yes, sir. I shall be careful, sir.”
Late in the afternoon, when White, Holabird and the two other guards returned from the terrace, Hooper assembled all the crew. Thompson was to talk to the two sailors with him and Andersen. The mate, Hooper had talked to in the cabin.
“See here, men,” he said. “There’s been talk among you of not being satisfied with what has been promised you. What of it? Out with it, one of you. Talk up!”
His voice was brisk with authority. It was the first time he had shown sternness and the men stiffened to the deep tone and the flash of the skipper’s eyes. They shuffled but said nothing. Back of them Fong stood impassive.
“Come now,” warned Hooper. “I’ll have no behind-the-hand grumbling aboard. You, Holabird, step out.”
“Me, sir. I”
“You were gamming with the rest of them. Talking about shares. We’ll settle this right here and now.”
Holabird hemmed and hawed as the men looked at each other in confusion, wondering how the skipper had known of their talk. And they shoved Holabird to the front.
“We—we wanted to know just where our bonus was coming from, skipper,” he said hesitatingly. “An’ when we was to get it. That’s natural, ain’t it? You might turn us off at Honolulu, an’ a pore man’s word is no good against a rich man’s.” A muttered “aye” from the rest encouraged him.
“There’s a law for treasure-trove, ain’t they? Or they ought to be. Shares for all on the job.”
Hooper’s eyes blazed and he advanced a step. Holabird quailed a little but faced him, his eyes shifting, inclined to be belligerent.
“Treasure-trove!” thundered the skipper. “Who said anything about treasure-trove? I told you there were valuables aboard that wreck. Mine, as the ship was mine. This is a legitimate. enterprise to recover my property. You’re talking close to mutiny, my man, and I know how to deal with that.”
“And if you don’t get it, what about the bonus?” asked Holabird. “Nothing signed as to us gettin’ it one way or the other.”
Some one prodded or pushed Holabird as Hooper strode forward. He lurched, stumbling, one arm out, against Hooper. As the latter held him off, Holabird, in a sudden frenzy struck out. Instantly Hooper countered, side-stepped and hit him on the side of the jaw. The man slumped like a meal sack. For a second it looked as if there would be a rush. Manning’s hand dropped to the holster of his automatic. Rifles lay on the hatchway in accordance with trading-vessel regulations.
“Get forward, all of you,” roared Hooper.
They obeyed. Holabird began to stir.
“A bad thing to have to do,” said Hooper to Manning. “But, if I hadn’t, they would have misinterpreted it.”
He stood over Holabird, who opened his eyes and gazed up at him vacantly, then with an ugly gleam.
“Your own fault, Holabird,” said Hooper. “Some one pushed you into me. I wasn’t going to strike you till you hit out. Now get down to your bunk. You’ll get your bonuses at Honolulu if we carry this through. Tell the rest of them that and warn them to stop their silly jabbering.”
Holabird got up slowly, nursing his bruised jaw. Manning thought he threw a look of appeal toward Edwards but the latter was not looking at him. Holabird sullenly saluted and went forward. Suddenly the atmosphere had changed aboard. There was a rift between forecastle and afterguard.