The trail became more open shortly, and progress was swift. Natalie kept
her place with increasing difficulty, but never a murmur escaped her.
Her shoes had long since become shapeless envelopes of soggy leather;
her skirt was tattered like a Foreign Legion battle flag. Her hands and
face were scratched and swollen with insect bites, but her eyes were dry
and her lips firm, for some inward voice told her that she was about to
learn some part of the truth that had been hidden from her. For all her
earlier assertion that Vandersee was Barry's friend and a man to be
trusted, a stubborn question had taken root in her breast since that
message was delivered. If Vandersee was the man who had taken Barry's
party, what became of all the previous suppositions and arguments
regarding their relative relations with Leyden?
If the question were not to be answered quickly, at least it was to be
forced aside by more vital affairs; all doubts were to be settled by one
swift decision. The guides suddenly ran back, chattered volubly and
murmuringly together, then stepped aside, waved Rolfe forward with a
warning of caution, and joined their fellows who had been carrying
their guns for them.
Rolfe parted the thicket, peered through, swore fiercely under his
breath and didn't apologize for it. He beckoned Blunt, and that dour old
salt squinted at the sight that had staggered the mate. Natalie stepped
softly beside them and gazed over their stooping backs, to swiftly step
back with a choking sob of horror.
"Navy party all right!" gritted Rolfe, squirming in every inch of his
skin with the tremendous responsibility confronting him. None knew
better than he what the consequences must be of attacking a party of
Government sailors. But the sight he saw--the sounds he heard!
He looked out across a wide circle of sward, dotted with hummocks of
brown earth. The trees surrounding it held fruit of Nero's kind. To each
trunk a writhing, moaning _Barang_ seaman was lashed, his face and body
smeared with sticky stuff that was alive with crawling ants. A man
squirmed and whimpered within five feet of Jerry Rolfe's eyes; the havoc
of those busy insects was only too horribly apparent.
And on two of the brown hummocks, spread-eagled with vine ropes that cut
deep into wrists and ankles, lay Barry and Little, grimly silent as to
complaint, but with the haze of gnawing terror in their eyes. Their
bodies swarmed with scurrying life; the heat had melted the native sugar
on their naked skin until it had run in sticky rivulets to every part
of their tortured bodies. Under the heaving multitude at Barry's throat,
blood was trickling; an awful hint of a frightful end not far away.
Lounging at their ease, smoking or eating, lay a party of men in naval
uniforms, three of them white men, the rest native Celebes. They chatted
and laughed together with callous indifference for their captives'
agonies; and at these white men--officers, by their dress--Rolfe found
Bill Blunt glaring with eyes that were puzzled at first, then blazing
with fury.
"Mr. Rolfe, pile into 'em!" the old salt growled hoarsely. "Give 'em
hell an' blazes. Them ain't no more Dutch Navy men than you be! Gawd!
Ain't I manned gangway fer th' Hollanders offen enough to know 'em? Them
swine is fakers!"
Old Bill moistened his palm again, charged his rifle under his coat, and
got on his toes waiting for the mate's word. Rolfe needed no other
excuse to attack. Even though Blunt's announcement proved simply a ruse
to force his hand, he cared nothing now. He led Miss Sheldon back to a
clump of great trees, put a native by her, and handed her his own
pistol.
"Stay here, Miss," he commanded sharply. "I'll come for you when it's
safe. Don't move!"
Natalie took to her hiding place trembling, but not with fear. She had
seen and heard that which chilled her blood and filled her head with
redoubled doubts. But she had no time for considering those doubts;
Rolfe darted back to his men, divided them into two parties, and,
carefully assuring himself that the entire band of captors lay before
him, he sent Blunt around to an opposite point on the glade and awaited
the prearranged whistle.
Soon it came--a cleverly imitated boatswain's pipe for All Hands!--and
suddenly the moaning ceased, the guards sat up in swift alarm.
"Give 'em hell, bullies!" roared Rolfe, and in a flash the glade crashed
to the discharge of a dozen rifles. The first shots went astray, because
the boatswain's pipe brought the captors to their feet after the first
surprise; but a second discharge took heavy toll, and the three white
officers rallied back to back, shouting frenziedly to their men to
stand.
"Ay, they'll stand--stiff!" growled Bill Blunt, swinging his rifle
end-for-end and jamming the butt into the face of a panic-stricken
native seaman. A bullet from Rolfe passed through the head of the
leader, and out of a whizzing shower of lead from the _Barang's_ men
another white went down. Then the native guards broke and ran, flinging
guns away in their panic. The remaining officer, glaring around with
savage hate in his eyes, turned to run too, but before leaving the spot
he sprang over to Barry and placed his pistol to the prostrate skipper's
head.
Then from the forest rang another shot, echoed by a sobbing cry, and the
fellow pitched headlong across Barry, dead, his pistol exploding
harmlessly, his throat pouring out his life. And Bill Blunt, following
up that shot, came upon Natalie Sheldon, fainting on the edge of the
glade, a warm pistol gripped tightly in her rigid hand.
Rolfe and his men had gone immediately to the aid of the tortured
captives, and the two guides were despatched hotfoot after water. Then,
with willing hands busily washing pained bodies free from sticky sugar
and fiercely fighting ants, some distance removed from the spot where
other hands were setting fire to the grass to beat back the scurrying
hordes, Jack Barry and Little began to draw breath free from pangs and
scrutinized each other in silent appraisal of damages. Neither had given
sign of the agony sustained, save an occasional inevitable moan; yet
neither had escaped without grievous injury that was painful if not more
serious. But Little's bubbling spirits had not been utterly quenched,
only damped; and now he grinned at the skipper with a brave effort at
humor.
"Ain't very big, but ain't their darned feet hot!" he said, shrugging
his shoulders suggestively.
"Huh!" grunted Barry, swabbing away at his throat, which still bled.
"Only thing that bothers me is that a white man can't very well
reciprocate the same way. I'd lose an eye to change dispositions with
Leyden for just one hour and have him in my hands!"
"Cheer up, old hoss," grinned Little. "Go to it, if the chance turns up,
and maybe the missionaries will convert you back to whitemanship
again."
Their thoughts were turned into a pleasanter channel by the arrival of
Miss Sheldon, recovered from her faintness and eager to be of service to
them. She knelt between them, Rolfe's medicine kit in her hands, and
began to cleanse and bandage their more painful hurts. The seamen, cut
down from their trees, were in the hands of their shipmates.
"This is horrible, Captain Barry," murmured Natalie, avoiding his eyes.
A flush overspread her fair face as she strove to utter the thoughts
nearest her heart. "I am terribly upset about this," she said. "It seems
impossible that sailors of any civilized government could do things like
this."
"They don't, Miss," returned Barry grimly. He sought her eyes, and her
gaze met his for an instant, to be immediately lowered. "These fellows
were no more sailors than you are. Perhaps you will be disagreeably
surprised to hear that your friend Mr. Leyden looked in on us while the
ants were feeding."
"Mr. Leyden? Impossible!" cried the girl, drawing back and regarding
Barry with horror. "Surely you are mistaken."
"I thought you wouldn't believe it," rejoined Little, with a wry smile.
"True, though, Miss, and he said he'd look in on us again before the
ants took their dessert."
"What about Vandersee, Cap'n Barry?" blurted out Rolfe, coming up and
breaking in on the talk without ceremony.
"Vandersee?" queried the skipper. "What of him, Rolfe? I'd have given a
lot to have him around when this happened. I'll bet we never would have
got into this mess."
"But didn't he get you?" Jerry Rolfe's voice went to a squeak with
astonishment.
"Get us? What's biting you, man?"
Rolfe showed the skipper the message he had received from the big
Hollander, and Barry scanned it narrowly, then passed it on to Little.
"I don't quite understand this," replied Barry, puzzled. "Perhaps he
meant real navy men. These were fakes, as you have found out by now."
"Sure, but I'd have been leary about firing on 'em at that if Blunt
hadn't spotted their imitation uniforms first, sir."
"Well, Vandersee had nothing to do with this, Rolfe. As I have told Miss
Sheldon, it was Leyden who looked in on us; and it was Leyden's men who
got us, fooling me with their official attitude."
"Oh, what does it all mean?" cried Natalie, gazing from face to face in
perplexity. "Are you sure that Mr. Leyden has done this thing? He told
me you were opium smugglers, Captain Barry, and I believed that he was
aiding the Government to stamp out the traffic."
"Opium!" gasped the skipper furiously. "That's what the fake navy
officer pulled on us up the river. He contrived to find a can or two in
the shacks, too."
"And is it untrue?" The girl's low tone held a tremor of hope.
"Untrue! Good God, Miss Sheldon, what do you take us for?"
The girl was silent. She lowered her face and went on with her work of
alleviating pain, and all talk ceased. Every man there realized that
somewhere behind the outward show of chance hostility lay a deeper, more
sinister problem yet to be solved. Barry found himself peering up at the
girl, wondering if after all she was out of his reach. Her touch
thrilled him, and when her eyes met his in fleeting glance they glowed
warm and moist, her lips trembled as if she were fighting to restrain
tears. And for what? Barry hoped, then feared. Only a sight of Little's
quizzical grin fastened upon him prevented him uttering a speech that
must have embarrassed the girl.
The silent stress was relieved by the gruff, deep-sea voice of Bill
Blunt, leading somebody into the little jungle covert where the injured
men lay.
"I tell ye we didn't pitch into no navy party, Mister," the old fellow
growled. "All as we done wuz to knock seven bells outa a mob o' dirty
murderers. Come on an' see th' skipper hisself. He kin tell ye."
Vandersee emerged from the bush, strode across to Barry, and knelt
beside him. His face was dark with irritation.
"I am sorry to see this, Captain," he said softly, and his usual smile
swept across his face, to leave it dark again. "I particularly wished to
avoid this attack, though. It's very unfortunate."
"Unfortunate!" snapped Barry, amazed at the man's cool attitude.
"Wasn't it more unfortunate for us to be making a meal for a few million
ants? I'm darned glad Rolfe attacked, and I don't understand your
message telling him to hold off."
"Let me explain, sir," replied Vandersee, and now he was entirely like
his old self,--suave, smiling, soft-spoken. "I wanted to get Leyden
myself. That is why I am here. I missed him by minutes when he first
visited you to gloat over you; and I had him followed and knew he was
coming back. He killed my man, so I had nothing to do but wait here for
his second visit. Now he won't come back, for his men who got away have
rejoined and are with him by now."
"See here, Vandersee," exploded the skipper angrily, "I want to know
more about your part in this mess. I have been held up as an opium
smuggler; there is no gold in Houten's river--never has been--yet Leyden
got dust through Gordon; and when Little and I and all Houten's men are
threatened with annihilation by some of Leyden's men masquerading as
Dutch sailors, you coolly tell me our rescue is unfortunate. Houten sent
you here, didn't he? Then what's the answer?"
Vandersee smiled gently and regarded Miss Sheldon with a wonderful depth
of tenderness, strange to see in a man of his bulk. Then he shrugged
slightly and answered:
"I think I must tell you, since matters have turned out this way. It
will interest Miss Sheldon, too, I hope, and perhaps it won't hurt my
plans very much after all.
"I am an officer in the Holland Navy. On leave now, I am completing some
private business of my own while doing some work for my Government. Only
to tell you what immediately concerns you, I am out to catch Leyden's
band of opium runners."
"Mr. Leyden an opium runner!" breathed Natalie, dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry to say he is, Miss Sheldon. Oh, have no fear--" he
interjected, seeing the pain in her eyes--"he would never have been
permitted to carry you from here, Miss. You have been in good keeping,
before and since you left the Mission. There was a reason for letting
Leyden go so far; a reason which I must withhold still. But there is a
definite limit set to his progress, which I hoped would be reached
to-day. Now, unfortunately, he has escaped me for the moment; but have
no doubts, you, Captain Barry and Mr. Little, that at the proper time
you will be let in on what seems no doubt a mystery just now."
"Mystery's right," retorted Little. "You know, Vandersee, I have always
looked upon you as a sort of Admirable Crichton among sailors. Yet you
let me make that awful mess back at the river entrance, letting go the
anchors by meddling with the gears you had showed me. Now here you crop
up, when I am half eaten, and tell me when the proper time comes I'll
know all! It's like a yellow-backed novel."
Vandersee smiled broadly. He admired the cheery ex-salesman. He rose to
his feet, carefully dusting off his knees, and replied:
"That accident with the anchors was nothing but chance, Mr. Little. If I
smiled, it was simply because there was an element of humor in your
amazement at the result of your meddling. I assure you that was all."
"Then why not push right after Leyden now and get the thing settled one
way or the other?" blurted Barry. "All this stuff about opium smuggling
doesn't concern us much. We came here on a definite errand for Cornelius
Houten, and it seems that's a flivver. What's to hinder Little and
myself clearing out from here? Your affair with Leyden isn't our affair,
is it?"
"Oh, Cap'n, I forgot to tell you the _Barang's_ sunk," put in Jerry
Rolfe, who had approached and had been listening. "It clean slipped my
mind, in the excitement."
"_Barang's_ sunk?" echoed Barry and Vandersee together. And queerly
enough, Vandersee evinced the greater alarm.
"Sure. She was scuttled by some water rats, and her lines cut. I just
managed to get her down river and across the channel, so as to block up
the _Padang_; then she settled in the mud."
"Thank Heaven!" burst from Vandersee, and his round face, which had
gone dead white, became normal in color again. Barry and Little stared
at him in amazement, but his smile told them nothing.
"I'm thankful even that your ship is sunk, Captain, since it is sunk as
a barrier to the _Padang_," he said, and left them still in a fog. "But
I am forgetting, and you, Miss Sheldon, are permitting me to forget,
that our friends here need more comfort than we can give them in the
jungle."
"I need no comfort!" growled Barry, staggering to his feet. Little
followed his example with a twisted grin. Both tottered and pitched to
the earth again, groaning dismally.
"I know, gentlemen," Vandersee said, motioning to some of the _Barang's_
crew. "I have seen much of this sort of thing. It will be several days
at least before you recover from your ordeal. Meanwhile I suggest that
you have your men carry you back to the post. Mrs. Goring is caring for
Gordon there and will gladly take care of you, assisted by Miss
Sheldon."
"I shall be very glad to do anything," the girl responded, and suddenly
Jack Barry felt the need for comfort he had disdained a moment before.