The Moro Knives
Rick walked to the bow as the _Swift Arrow_ approached the harbor of
Jolo in the early-morning hours. He used Shannon's long glass to inspect
some curious-looking houses to the west of the harbor entrance. The
glass showed him they were built on stilts over the water, and connected
by a series of bamboo walkways.
Zircon joined him and borrowed the glass for a look. "Samal village," he
explained. "I've never seen one, but I spent last night reading a pocket
guide I picked up at Bayot's. The Samals are Moros, noted as fishermen."
"And pirates?"
Zircon smiled. "The book didn't say."
In spite of the primitive Samal village, the dock and the city were
fairly modern. As Scotty took the _Swift Arrow_ closer, Rick and Zircon
looked for a place to tie up.
Chahda saved them the trouble. The Hindu boy appeared on a bale of abaca
and waved both arms until they saw him, then he motioned them to the
left and ran down the dock. Scotty swung the MTB past the dock and saw a
smaller dock where a few pleasure boats were tied up. In a moment they
were alongside. Chahda caught the line Rick threw and hauled the bow in.
The Hindu boy jumped aboard as soon as they were tied up. "You early,"
he greeted them.
"We could have been here last night, but we decided to take it easy and
not risk running into vintas and things in the darkness," Rick replied.
"It was a fine trip," Scotty added. "We met some friends."
"Friends? You meaning purposies?"
"Porpoises," Rick corrected. "Not exactly. He means pirates. They took
some shots at us."
Chahda's wide eyes took in the bullet holes. He muttered to himself in
Hindi.
"We were a little surprised," Zircon added. "We're not even sure they
were especially after us. They might have been waiting for any craft
that came along. We can't imagine how they could communicate so rapidly,
unless they had advance notice of our plans."
Chahda shook his head. "Smarter than you think, these Moros. Sometimes
use strange way to get letter far distances. I amazed."
"What is this strange way?" Zircon asked.
"You know there plenty parrots here? Moros teach birds to talk, then
tell message and say, 'Okay bird. You go now and tell Charlie.'"
Rick and Zircon stared at the Hindu boy incredulously, but Scotty had
been the object of Chahda's humor often enough to recognize it first. He
grabbed the lithe brown boy and held him out over the muddy harbor
waters in spite of his struggles.
"Take it back!" he demanded.
"Is took!" Chahda yelled. He straightened his shirt as Scotty hauled him
in again, and looked at the dark-haired boy accusingly. "That plenty
good yarn. You just scooptical, that's all."
"Skeptical," Rick corrected.
"Is so. Anyway, if parrots don't fly, pigeons do. Sometimes my Indian
friends use pigeons for messages to islands with no radios. So why not
pirates?"
Why not? Rick thought Chahda very likely had the answer. Carrier pigeons
would serve a useful purpose in a remote place like the Sulu Sea, and
one could have reached the channel from Zamboanga after they departed.
"Let's go into the cabin," Zircon suggested. The boys followed him and
took seats on the bunks, waiting expectantly.
"Let's start with Chahda. Learn anything?"
The Hindu boy nodded. "Little. Some peoples here think pirates took
plenty boats now missing. Not many hear of pirates, but more than in
Davao."
"Any guesses on their hideout?" Scotty asked.
"None good. Some say far to south, maybe near Tawi Tawi. Plenty small
islands, no people."
"I agree," Zircon added. "I've studied the chart, and that seems to be
the most likely area. We can go right on to Borneo, if need be. It's
only about a hundred and twenty-five miles from Jolo. It's even possible
the pirate hangout is off the Borneo coast."
Rick spoke up. "I've been thinking about that pirate attack. Yesterday
we got away through sheer speed, right? Well, word about our speed will
spread. Now, we don't want the pirates to give up because our boat is
too fast for them. We want them to think they can attack us
successfully, because the attacks are our best clue to whether or not
we're on the right track."
He believed that no further attack would mean they were getting cold,
while increasing attacks would mean they were getting warm, to use the
old game terms. The closer to the pirate stronghold, the more determined
the attacks would be, particularly if the pirates saw a chance of taking
over the MTB.
Scotty saw what Rick had in mind. "You mean we have to convince them
we're no longer fast?"
"That's it. There must be pirate spies here in Jolo. Why not plant a
story that one engine is bad?"
"Very good!" Zircon exclaimed. "We could do it by trying, very publicly,
to get some engine part. Which one, Scotty? It has to be one we won't be
able to get."
Scotty thought it over while the others watched him anxiously, then
suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Got it. A new timing gear. I'll be
surprised if there's one nearer than Manila. I can juggle the spark, so
the engine sounds as though the timing were off. That will make it more
convincing."
Zircon rose. "We'll do it. Chahda, you've seen the town. Can you stand
by while the rest of us make a quick trip? We must see the constabulary,
and I have a purchase to make."
"Gladly do," Chahda assented. "First I go and get suitcase. This time I
stay with you until we find our friends."
The Hindu boy got his luggage and a paper-wrapped package from the dock
guard's hut. Rick and the others left him to guard the _Swift Arrow_.
The main street of Jolo started only a few hundred feet from the dock
area. Wooden stores and houses predominated, but there were a few of
ancient stone. The people were almost entirely Moro, with only a
sprinkling of Christian Filipinos. They saw no other Americans, although
a few lived in the town.
"Wish we had more time here," Zircon remarked. "After all, Jolo is the
seat of Islam in this part of the world."
"Of what?" Scotty asked.
"Islam is the proper name for the religion we called Mohammedanism.
Moros are Moslems. The name is from the old Spanish for Moor. This
island--my guidebook says--is the home of the Sultan of Sulu, the
spiritual head of Islam in the Philippines."
Rick noted a strange pair of men making their way down the street. Their
skins were brown, but their bushy hair was an odd orange red. They
walked with knees bent sharply, as though on the verge of sitting down.
Their legs were spindly, the knees prominent.
"Bajaus," Zircon said. "Sea gypsies. I recognize them from my talks with
Tony. He was interested in studying them. They spend their entire lives
in vintas, usually in a squatting position. That's the reason for the
odd posture. They have trouble standing upright. Their hair is that
color because sun and salt have bleached it."
A pair of Moros went by, carrying a bamboo pole from which a dozen small
sharks were suspended by the gills. Rick saw that the fins had been cut
off, probably bought by some Chinese for making soup.
There were shops everywhere. Zircon looked them over carefully. "Watch
for a hardware store," he requested.
They reached the constabulary office before finding a hardware store,
however. Rick and Scotty decided to wait outside and enjoy the
interesting street scene while Zircon checked in.
The boys noted that many Moros were armed, with krises or barongs in
fancy sheaths. Some had small daggers with pistol-grip type handles
tucked in their sashes. While Rick and Scotty watched, they were on the
alert for possible enemies, but so many Moros eyed them curiously, it
was hard to pick out any one of them as being suspicious. Just the same,
both had the feeling of being tailed.
Zircon emerged shortly. "Lacson and Lim have both sent messages
transmitting what details we have. All detachments in the area have been
alerted to watch for the _Sampaguita_. Now they'll also be told to keep
a lookout for pirates or information concerning them. Our report on the
attack has gone to Manila already. They wasted no time."
The Spindrifters resumed their hike up the main street and came upon a
hard-goods store. Inside, Zircon finally succeeded in making his wants
known. To the boys' amazement, he bought ten dozen boxes of ordinary
household tacks! He refused to tell them what the tacks were for.
"He's going to nail down the facts," Rick suggested.
Scotty shook his head. "Nope. He thinks we have a sailboat, and anyone
knows sailboats have to tack into the wind."
Zircon merely grinned and said nothing.
Visits to four ship supply stores followed. Zircon expressed amazement
at the top of his voice that no timing gear was available. He bemoaned
the loss of one engine unless the gear was forthcoming. He sounded
pretty convincing.
"We've got it made," Scotty said with satisfaction as the three walked
back to the dock. "Did you know we have a tail? He's good, too. I had
trouble spotting him. You can bet he heard the professor's sad story,
which means the vintas will know about our 'bad engine.'"
The _Swift Arrow_ was in sight now. Rick stared for a heartbeat, then
broke into a run. "Come on! Chahda's fighting with someone!"
Rick had seen the Hindu boy dance into sight on the stern of the boat,
then lunge behind the pilot house again, a long knife in his hand.
The three pounded down the dock and leaped aboard, then stopped short at
the sight on the stern. Chahda had suspended a large bunch of bananas
from a convenient hook and was methodically slicing it to pieces with a
long Moro knife in each hand.
Rick exploded, "What in the name of an Indian idiot are you doing?"
Chahda paused in his dancing attack to welcome them aboard with a grin.
"I get in shape. You like my weapons?"
Rick and the others examined them with considerable interest. One was a
barong, with a heavy blade about two feet long. The blade curved along
the bottom, or cutting edge, but was nearly straight along the top,
which was nearly a quarter of an inch thick. The second weapon was a
kris, about the same length, but with two cutting edges, both of which
were wavy in typical kris fashion. The kris was more swordlike, but it
was a cutting weapon not used for stabbing.
Chahda proceeded to give a demonstration, a blade in each hand. Rick was
amazed to see that he used both hands equally well.
"Why all the sudden interest in weapons?" Rick asked.
Chahda sent the remainder of the bananas flying with one cut. "We go
after scientists, yes? We find them, too. But, Rick, don't think we get
them back without one big fight!"