The "Swift Arrow"
Jose Santos' boatyard was not large, but to Rick it seemed as though the
Filipino boatman had a sample of every kind of craft from a rowboat to a
Chinese junk.
"We want a boat," Zircon stated. "Not a sailboat. That would be too
slow. We want something reasonably fast, and with enough room for
comfort. We may have to live aboard for some time."
Santos nodded. "You no care how big?"
"There are four of us to handle it."
"Plenty," Santos said. "No more help needed for my _Swift Arrow_. See
over there?"
Rick's quick eyes caught the lines of the craft first. He exclaimed,
"Well, I'll be a galloping grampus! It's a torpedo boat!"
"Yes," Santos confirmed, beaming. "Motor torpedo boat. I convert her
myself. Come see."
Chahda asked, "Rick, what is torpedo boat?"
"It's a very fast, light boat, designed to launch torpedoes at bigger
ships. It depends on speed for safety. This one must be left over from
World War Two."
"Plenty old," Chahda said doubtfully.
Scotty chuckled. "Age doesn't mean anything to a boat if it's well built
and well taken care of. The MTB's were light, but very well built.
You'll see."
Zircon was well acquainted with boats and Rick and Scotty were not
novices. They went over the _Swift Arrow_ from stem to stern, missing
nothing. The armament had been removed and the original gasoline engines
were gone. Instead, it was operated by a pair of marine diesels. Santos
claimed that the engines were in excellent shape and that the boat could
make a speed of twenty knots even in rough water, with a top speed of
nearly thirty knots in calm seas.
Scotty checked the engines and confirmed the claim. They ran like Swiss
watches. The boat was fully equipped, even to searchlight, horn, and a
brass saluting cannon that fired blanks much like shotgun shells.
"We'll take it," Zircon announced. "Fill it with fuel and water, put
charts for the whole area aboard with navigation instruments, and we'll
be back in an hour and get under way." He hastily signed a traveler's
check for the advance fee, then the four hiked back to the hotel and got
down to business.
They made up a provision list, arranged to rent bed linens and towels
from the hotel, found out where ammunition could be purchased, packed
their bags, and prepared to check out.
Chahda spoke up. "Where you go first? Jolo, maybe? Suppose I go ahead on
PAL, and snoop round a little. Meet you there."
Zircon considered. "I suppose Jolo is the logical destination. It's the
capital of the Sulu Archipelago. We'll refuel there, probably by
tomorrow morning."
Rick thought it was probably a good idea for Chahda to go ahead. He
could use his Indian contacts to pick up any information that might be
available. It would save them time. "I'm for it," he said.
Zircon made sure Chahda had ample funds, then the three bade him good-by
for the time being and started on their shopping tour.
Within the promised hour they had their luggage and provisions loaded
aboard and were prepared to cast off. Santos had the boat ready, even to
putting in a box of shells for the saluting cannon.
Scotty and Rick cast off while Zircon sent the MTB smoothly away from
the dock, through the breakwater and into Basilan Strait. Then Scotty
took over, while Zircon checked the first leg of their course. On the
charts Santos had given them the routes between principal ports were
clearly marked. Zircon found the route from Zamboanga to Jolo and gave
Scotty the first compass setting.
Scotty opened the throttle wide. The _Swift Arrow_ responded instantly,
planing along at a fast clip. Zircon took sightings with the pelorus,
then calculated his readings.
Rick watched with interest, anxious to find out what speed they were
making. Finally the big physicist looked up, grinning. "We've picked a
champion. Twenty-eight knots!"
It was far below the original speed of the craft, but probably far above
the speed of anything else in the Sulu Sea. Rick was satisfied. "I'm
going below. I'll store the chow, then relieve Scotty."
In a short time, taking turns at the helm, the three had everything
stowed and bunks ready for occupancy. Zircon and Scotty had broken out
the newly purchased ammunition and loaded their weapons. Rick hung
Shannon's quiver on a hook near the bunks.
The _Swift Arrow_ sped steadily on. Basilan dropped astern as they
negotiated the countless islands of the Pilas Group. Two islands formed
a narrow channel ahead, Rick saw, as he took the wheel from Scotty. Once
through the channel they would be in open water, nothing between them
and Jolo but the Sulu Sea.
Scotty walked to the bow, to check on the readiness of the anchor. In a
moment he returned and joined Rick. "Must be good fishing country. Lots
of vintas in the channel ahead."
Rick had noticed. "Must be two dozen." Between the islands, the channel
was dotted with red, purple, green, and brown sails. As the MTB drew
nearer, Rick throttled down a little. He was already traveling at
cruising speed, considerably less than top speed, but he didn't want to
take a chance of ramming one of the Moro craft.
The distance closed rapidly, and Zircon pointed out that the vintas
seemed to be spreading in a line across the channel, only a boat's
length between them. "Slow down more," he advised. "They may be hauling
a net or something."
Rick did so, keeping a careful eye out for net floats. "Not much room to
go through. I'll toot the horn."
He gave the horn a long blast. The Moros paid no attention. Apparently
fishing boats had the right of way, and they didn't intend to move. The
_Swift Arrow_ was close enough now, so he could see the triangular masts
and the booms of the lateen sails. He could make out the crews, too. The
boats seemed to be crowded with men.
"They're not going to make way!" Zircon exclaimed. The MTB was already
well within the channel.
"They're intercepting us front and rear!" Scotty yelled. "Look!"
The vintas on the ends of the line had moved rapidly, and the rest
followed. The MTB would soon be surrounded! Rick spun the wheel and
turned the big boat nearly in its own length, heeling far over. In the
same instant a rifle slug splintered wood on the cabin roof overhead.
Scotty jumped for his rifle and started firing. Zircon hauled the
automatic from his belt and yelled, "Gun it, Rick!"
Rick didn't need the advice. He straightened the MTB out and rammed the
throttles to full speed. Slugs smacked into the hull or blossomed as
stars on the glass of the pilothouse. He made the MTB dance through the
water at top speed. His evasive action made it hard for Scotty and
Zircon to fire accurately and they stopped.
In a few moments they were out of range of the vintas. Zircon called out
a new course that would take them through another channel more to the
west. It was longer, but safer.
The three remained silent while Rick got on the new course. Attack by
vintas in open water was about the last thing any of them had expected.
Finally Zircon slipped the clip from his pistol, ejected the shell in
the chamber, and reloaded. The scientist said severely, "Mr. Scott, on a
certain occasion at Zamboanga yesterday, you were heard to make a remark
to the effect that piracy has been dead for a century. In view of our
recent experience, I believe it is only fair to offer an opportunity to
correct the record."
Scotty bowed ceremoniously. "You are most kind, Dr. Zircon. It would
perhaps be more accurate to state that piracy has not been dead for a
century. My conclusion is entirely empirical, of course, but observation
leads me to conclude that the vintas in the channel may indeed have been
manned by pirates."
"Handsomely said, Mr. Scott. You have a comment, Mr. Brant?"
"I concur," Rick said gravely. "Would you care to hazard a surmise about
the identity of these putative pirates?"
Zircon stroked his chin thoughtfully. "We had no opportunity to remove
shirts and examine backs. Yet I must venture the opinion that the men in
the vintas carry the mark of the mountain."
"And why did they lay in wait for us?" Scotty asked.
"My surmise," Zircon boomed, "is that we are doing exactly the right
thing. They fear our ultimate success. Ergo, they try to remove us."
Rick had to grin. "I've always wanted to hear someone say 'ergo.' But
how did they know we were coming?"
Zircon shook his head. "The islands in the vicinity are too small to
have radio or telephone. However, we've not been too careful about our
plans. The waiter last night, or a houseboy outside our hotel door could
have overheard us, and a vinta could have gotten here in time to lay a
trap."
"We'll probably never be sure," Rick said. Suddenly he grinned widely.
He had the feeling they were making progress.
"At least," he stated, "we've met the Pirates of Shan!"