KUALA BESUT
"Land ho!"
Early one morning the two magic words had thrilled the _Seamew_, and
since breakfast the two boys had been perched on the upper bridge with
their binoculars. They were different from the pair that had left San
Francisco, weeks before; sun and salt wind had tanned them,
self-confidence and energy had filled their hearts, and Mart in
particular had gained an added air of resoluteness that became his
strong features well.
And they had met with strange sights--unwieldy Chinese junks with
matting sails, island trading schooners, slimmer craft containing
natives, and even immense canoes which came from distant islands with
fish and fruit to barter at sight of the yacht's smoke.
But now Asia itself lay before them--and the most uncivilized part of
Asia, which nevertheless was held by the flag of England. They had
passed the Redang Islands, and were now standing in for the wide river
mouth which denoted their goal, Kuala Besut. On the right lay a low,
palm-grown island some two miles long, which Jerry Smith declared
uninhabited, as it was often awash at the rainy season. Directly ahead
of them, the harbor deepened in to meet the river, and to right and left
the long lagoons slowly opened out.
"By juniper!" exclaimed Bob delightedly, as the captain and Jerry joined
them. "Let's you and me run over to that island some time, Mart! I'll
bet we'd pick up some great old shells there!"
"That you would, lads," said the quartermaster, wagging his white hair
in the breeze. "There be some fine shells hereabouts! Cap'n, we'd best
not run up the river."
"Looks pretty good sized to me," returned Captain Hollinger, as he swept
the harbor with his glasses. Although the river was still two miles
away, they could see that it was large and apparently of good depth.
"Had we better send out a boat to make soundings first, do you think?"
"No, sir--it ain't that. It's the natives, sir. They'll be off in boats
as soon as they see us slip our anchor over into the mud, and I'll talk
to 'em. They'll remember me, 'cause why I've been in here before,
trading."
"Very well, then. You'd better go to the wheel."
Jerry shuffled to the wheel house and took the steam steering-gear in
hand, his blue eyes sweeping over their course. The shores ahead and on
either hand were low and thickly overgrown, but rose into hill-slopes
behind. All was a tangle of dark green jungle, and as the brown river
opened out before them, the boys saw that it was very sluggish and
appeared to merge its waters with those of the lagoon.
The lagoon proved to be curious in this respect, for to the northeast of
the river mouth, on the starboard side of the yacht, it ran far up
inside the island, and its waters were here distinctly sea-green, owing
to the channels beyond the island. Where the yacht was, however, and to
the south, the water was of a muddy brown color, proving that the
river-current tended to empty toward the southward instead of diverging
generally into the entire lagoon.
Captain Hollinger had barely pointed out this fact when Jerry ordered
their speed slowed down, and turned their course to the northeast. The
_Seamew_ slowly ran into the lagoon, turned inside the island, where the
green water narrowed into a half-mile stretch, and there the engines
were stopped. The anchor plunged over and the cable roared out, then a
leadsman forward gave their soundings.
"Six fathom, sir!"
Captain Hollinger, who had the deck, went to the chart house for his
sextant. It was just noon, and he wished to log their exact position.
Mart gave Bob a meaning glance and the two boys went to the wheel house,
where old Jerry was leaning on the idle wheel and gazing at the shore.
"Well, Jerry," said Bob, "where's the wreck of that old galleon, eh? The
one where the Pirate Shark hangs out, I mean."
Jerry chuckled, and pointed with his pipe to the northern end of the
lagoon.
"Up there, lads, up there inside the channel beyond the end o' the
island. Eight fathom down, she is--down there among the rocks, and us up
above. Fish tell no tales, lads, fish tell no tales! Old Jerry's the
only man who knows--"
"How soon will any boats come out?" asked Mart, who had resolved to
bother no more about the Pirate Shark, as he had a shrewd notion that
Jerry was not quite right in the head. "Will they bring fruit?"
"Aye, lads, plenty o' that. But they'll not be out for an hour or two
yet, not they! Time for mess, lads--eight bells, time for mess!"
The captain got his sights, to be worked out later, and joined them. As
he did so, Jerry made the request that he be given shore leave, as he
might want to go ashore with any boats that came out. He had been here
before on a trading trip, he said, and knew the natives in the village
at the river mouth; so if he spent a day ashore he could arrange for
their hunting trip and make firm friends of the Malays.
"Why, of course!" smiled Captain Hollinger, as they went down to mess.
"You're a guest as far as I'm concerned, Jerry, so do as you please."
The old quartermaster nodded and no more was said on the subject. To the
boys, it seemed that Jerry's desire to go ashore was a good sign. Since
he was willing to trust himself alone to the natives, it showed that on
his previous visit he must have made friends with them. The boys had
read and heard a good deal of how the more unscrupulous trading
schooners treated the natives, and they perceived at once that Jerry's
previous visits must have been made in peace and good will.
Mart Judson, indeed, inclined strongly to the opinion that the
white-haired old quartermaster was slightly "bughouse," as he expressed
it. As to the dynamite on board, he concluded that whether the Pirate
Shark was an hallucination of the old man's brain or not, the explosive
might come in useful in their diving operations. He gave no credence
whatever to the story of the wrecked galleon out in the lagoon "eight
fathom down."
What Bob thought in the matter did not appear, for although the
freckled, blue-eyed chap seemed careless enough, in reality he was
cautious in giving vent to any opinion whatever. He merely grunted in
reply to Mart's arguments, that afternoon, and waved a hand beyond the
island, to the place Jerry had indicated.
"Six fathom here, Mart, and Jerry says it's eight up there. There's a
channel to the sea, there, and rocks pointing up. The channel would be
apt to cut it out deeper, and twelve feet makes a lot o' difference."
Beyond that he would say nothing at all, though indeed he got small
chance, for a few moments later they made out two Malay fishing boats
reaching out from the mouth of the river.
Behind them came others, approaching cautiously, and an hour later the
yacht was surrounded by a dozen craft. All hands were on deck, but there
was no need for any fears. When the leading boat approached cautiously,
Jerry Smith stepped up on the rail, shouting something in a strange
tongue, and without further hesitation the boat darted up to the ladder
and gangway, which had been put over the side, with a large floating
platform.
Contrary to the ideas which the boys had formed, the Malays looked
anything but savages. They wore fez-like round caps, bright shirts, and
sarongs or wrapped skirts of gay cloth, while all wore krisses of
various patterns, and a few carried old flint-lock muskets.
"Tell them we'll let only ten at a time on deck," said Captain Hollinger
to Jerry. Swanson was up forward, looking on with the men. Jerry
repeated the order in Malay, and a moment later he was surrounded by a
group of grinning, chattering, excited natives who plainly recognized
him as an old friend.
Captain Hollinger had already ordered a case of trading goods broken
out, and a few moments later the yacht was well supplied with bananas,
pineapples, cocoanuts, rice and fresh fish. One of the Malays, who wore
a resplendent sarong of crimson silk, Jerry introduced as the headman of
the village; he was a rather dried-up looking man, but his face was
intelligent and bright, and he shook hands all around in a hearty
manner.
As Jerry was interpreting the captain's address to him, Mart noticed
that one of the men next to him wore a kris without any sheath. Glancing
at the weapon, he drew Bob's attention to it; the blade was
flame-shaped, about three feet in length, and was inlaid with silver
lines. Bob jerked the quartermaster's arm and pointed at the kris.
"Ask him if he'll sell it, Jerry!"
"Aye, lad, he'll sell it right enough. I'll ask him, and you get
something he'd like--say, some kind o' weapon."
Bob darted off, returning with an old-fashioned Colt cap-revolver, which
he had hanging on his stateroom wall as a souvenir. Mart laughed at
sight of it, but to his surprise the Malay eagerly made the trade, and
the kris was Bob's. Captain Hollinger examined it with some interest,
and promptly made an offer through Jerry for a dozen more of the
weapons, to keep as souvenirs.
"Better let that wait, sir," said the quartermaster. "It ain't best to
be in too much hurry, Cap'n. When you've gone ashore, after that there
huntin' trip, sir, then's the time to trade for such stuff. Wait till
they know as they're goin' to lose you, and you'll get bargains."
The wisdom of this was quite evident, so Captain Hollinger nodded. Then
the quartermaster turned to the headman and spoke for some moments at
length, after which he announced that he was going ashore and would
return to report to the captain in the morning. He said it would be
necessary to consult men from other villages as to where tigers might be
found, as well as to arrange for beaters and a party of hunters, but
that all would be arranged that night or in the morning.
With this, Jerry went below, got some of his things together in a
duffle-bag, and went over the ladder into the fishing-prau, with a
farewell wave of the hand at the boys and his other shipmates. The
Malays put out their long oars, shouted a farewell to which the crew
responded with cheers, and the dozen boats swept back toward the river.
"Well, we've got a pretty good crew now!" laughed the captain looking
around at the decks. Their duties being over for the time being, the
engine-room crew had come on deck, fraternizing with their brother
Kanakas, and everyone, from old Borden to Mart and Bob, was busy stowing
away fresh fruit, of which the supply was bountiful.
The boys examined Bob's silver-inlaid kris, with its carven handle of
bone, and it was indeed a trophy worth carrying home. At mess that
evening Bob's father announced his desire to take Joe Swanson with him
on his initial hunting-trip, at which the burly mate was no little
astonished.
"Well," he said, with a slow grin, "I'm not much on shootin', Cap'n, but
I'll be mortal glad to stretch my legs ashore. Who'll take charge o' the
ship?"
"Well," smiled the captain, "I'll leave the boys in charge, with Jerry.
The quartermaster is capable, and he's going to start diving operations
up the river. I want to see what things are like in the jungle before
I'll take the boys hunting, as it's apt to be pretty dangerous."
"I dunno, sir," and Swanson frowned, staring at his plate. "I've heard a
good bit about Jerry, and I wouldn't leave him--"
"Oh, nonsense!" Captain Hollinger laughed out, and the boys remembered
the mate's protest before the voyage began that Jerry was "unlucky."
"I've heard about his piratical tendencies, but don't you worry, Mr.
Swanson. He's all right."
The mate shrugged his shoulders heavily and said no more. That evening
the boys proffered a request that they be set ashore on the island in
the morning. Both were anxious to set foot on the sands, and to prowl
about the place at their leisure, and as the island was clearly
uninhabited, Captain Hollinger assented willingly. Mart decided to take
the motion-picture machine along in order to try it out, and Bob later
confided to him his intention to take along a rifle in case they saw
anything to shoot at.
"Shucks, there's nothin' around here to shoot," returned Mart
scornfully. "And 'specially on the island. Besides, your dad wouldn't
stand for it."
"That's all right," grinned Bob. "I'll get one of those thirty-thirties
out of the rack and slip her into the boat. Maybe we won't use it, and
maybe we will. We might meet that Pirate Shark, you know!"
"Oh, shucks!" ejaculated Mart.
They breakfasted early the next morning, and as the captain wanted a
message relayed to San Francisco, the boys sought the wireless house
while Dailey and Borden and Yorke were getting a boat over the side.
After some persistent efforts, Mart finally raised an answer, and after
looking it up in his blue-bound book, found that it came from a Dutch
steamer of the Nederland line, and promptly got rid of his messages,
which would be relayed by more powerful instruments to Manila and
Honolulu. During this labor, Bob slipped away, and after Mart had
reported to Captain Hollinger and secured his motion-picture camera, he
found his chum waiting in the boat, where Dailey and Yorke, Borden and
Birch were at the oars. Waving farewell to the ship, they moved away;
Bob nudged Mart and pointed to a tarpaulin under the stern.
"There she is," he said mysteriously.
"What?"
"That rifle," reported Bob, chuckling. "We're off, old scout! I wish
we'd meet that Pirate Shark o' Jerry's. I guess a thirty-thirty bullet
would make him sick!"
"Huh!" grunted Mart, his eyes sweeping across the sunlit waters. "No
chance!"