Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online
Authors: Gene Hackman
Wake of the Perdido Star (30 page)
The Belauran canoes, rounding the previous islet, slowed upon seeing Maril's maneuver. One by one the men ducked low in their sleek craft. They could tell that Maril had spotted something and were quick to join him in the little cove. Even as they reached Maril, Jack could see Jawa's two canoes, scouting seaward of the main force, making their way carefully back to them.
Words in Belauran flew between principals for several minutes, then Jawa indicated to his interpreter to convey their observations through Brown to Jack.
“They're a bit worked up over that canoe you guys spotted to seaward, Jack.”
“How so?”
“They don't like that it's heading at high speed toward the south in open water. Papaloan warriors would be more cautious than to do that.” Even more puzzling, Brown went on to explain, they could see women in the canoe with the men. Too, there were several
other small craft in the distanceâand they saw smoke coming from the Papaloan village.
other small craft in the distanceâand they saw smoke coming from the Papaloan village.
“Ask Jawa if we should proceed.”
“He already said he wants to head toward the village through inland waters, hide the canoes, and proceed by foot. There's too much activity on the open water up there and he thinks we'll be spotted.”
Jack looked around at the sailors, who had been listening to the exchange. “Tell him okay, but two of our men still don't have shoes that fit well and I want them assigned to guarding the boats.”
“Right enough.” A brief flurry of conversation ensued, and Jawa poked his chin out toward Jack in Belauran assent.
Within moments they were gliding through the mangroves, not a word spoken, and only Belaurans manning the paddles, to ensure silence. Jack listened to the hum of mosquitoes, the scuttling and splashing of marsh animalsâand distant thunder. Squalls approaching, he thought.
After thirty minutes of labored and humid travel, the flotilla stopped at a steep embankment. There were signs that others had entered and egressed here, but nothing that forebode ambush. As they disembarked and the guards, including Jack's soldiers, took their place beside the boats, Jack thought he could hear voices. He noticed Quince urgently beckoning him to one side.
Jack approached questioningly. Quince grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eye with an intensity the reason for which he couldn't understand. “Ya hear it?”
“What? The storm?”
“It's not a blasted storm! We've been looking at each other the past fifteen minutes, afraid to say what we know to be true. Lad, that's cannon. Cannon yer hearin'. God knows, I've heard enough of it in my life.”
“Cannon? Are you sure?”
Except for the incident he witnessed off Cape Hatteras, Jack had never heard a cannon in his life. What in blazes was going on?
He had no time to consider the import of the revelation; he was
summoned to lead the advance with Jawa. Jacob and Paul were near the front of the group, Paul carrying the pistol that had become a defensive weapon now that there were rifles in the Americans' arsenal. In addition to Jack, Jacob, Red Dog, Brown, and Hansumbob, two Indians had been trained to use the rifles. Jack wanted two more riflemen than riflesâin case they took losses among the men, they would have replacements capable of effectively using the shoulder arms. They carried them gingerly, well aware of the value of nineteenth-century weapons in a stone age army. Coop and Mentor were purposely left behind so they could complete fitting the remaining fifteen rifles with their firing mechanisms.
summoned to lead the advance with Jawa. Jacob and Paul were near the front of the group, Paul carrying the pistol that had become a defensive weapon now that there were rifles in the Americans' arsenal. In addition to Jack, Jacob, Red Dog, Brown, and Hansumbob, two Indians had been trained to use the rifles. Jack wanted two more riflemen than riflesâin case they took losses among the men, they would have replacements capable of effectively using the shoulder arms. They carried them gingerly, well aware of the value of nineteenth-century weapons in a stone age army. Coop and Mentor were purposely left behind so they could complete fitting the remaining fifteen rifles with their firing mechanisms.
After an hour's slow but steady progress, Jawa's scout reappeared, signaling them to hide. Someone was approaching.
Paul could hear the yells of natives coming toward him through the brush. A nervous sweat added to the perspiration pouring down his face from the heat; even the insect bites couldn't distract him from what he knew would be a violent drama. The first murder he had ever witnessed was in the skirmish several months pastâit had deeply shaken him. He could see forms running through a deep ravine, breathing heavily, very stressed, if the sharp intakes of air were any indication.
Suddenly, a native woman, young and entirely naked, burst through the brush, though still some distance away, and collapsed. She carried a bundle. A small child. A Papaloan man followed, bleeding from his shoulder, trying to help her. A shot rang out and the man catapulted onto his face. Paul, stunned, was about to protest to his comrades that there was no call for having done that, when he realized that they hadn't. The shot came from behind the man; the Americans and Belaurans were still frozen in their places in the brush.
A man in Western clothes stepped into the clearing, passed the
woman without glancing at her, and kicked the Papaloan over onto his back. Satisfied he was dead he turned to the woman.
woman without glancing at her, and kicked the Papaloan over onto his back. Satisfied he was dead he turned to the woman.
“Get up, you kaffir bitch.” The man began reloading his musket. He was dressed entirely in black: long sleeve shirt, pantaloons covering his legs disappearing into black boots.
A second man appeared, possibly Arab or Oriental, in part-Western dress, and pulled the woman to her feet. This man wore a white tunic with a red sash and headband. He took the baby from her and said something to the Westerner Paul couldn't make out. The latter shrugged and the second man shucked the baby out of the bundle like a piece of corn and smashed the child's skull against the trunk of a tree.
Paul gasped out loud. The men in the clearing looked in his direction, ignoring the frantic wails of the woman.
“You blackguards! You murderers!” Paul yelled.
The first man looked up, raised his musket, then spotted Paul, unsure of what to make of such an apparition. Paul pulled his pistol up and fired without any attempt to aim. The bullet passed harmlessly over the man's head. The Westerner sneered and again brought his weapon to bear on Paul. He fired; the noise was deafening. Paul felt nothing, though his knees started to buckle and he knew he was about to lose consciousness. His last memory was the Westerner's eye, which had grown strangely large and red. As he fell to the jungle floor, Paul could hear the plaintive wails of the Papaloan woman.
Jack saw it all with mounting horror. He looked at the second man in the clearing who was starting to edge backward, casting sideways glances at his leader who was sprawled on his back, shot simultaneously through the eye and the throat from two different directions.
The man's hands shot up in surrender. He was even more confused
when the first to step out of hiding was a native, armed only with a club. Three more brown faces appeared. Jack watched without moving from the place where he had fired. He hardly breathed while Jacob and one of the Belaurans examined Paul, afraid to hear what had happened to him.
when the first to step out of hiding was a native, armed only with a club. Three more brown faces appeared. Jack watched without moving from the place where he had fired. He hardly breathed while Jacob and one of the Belaurans examined Paul, afraid to hear what had happened to him.
“Paul's okay, Jack. Just faintedâain't hurt a bit,” Jacob said.
Jack exhaled in relief, then approached the stranger. “That's good for you, animal. It means you might survive long enough to quit pissing down your leg.”
The man looked down, flushed. “Who in hell are ya?”
“The angel of death, baby killer. Tell us what you're doing here and don't even stop to breathe. If you lie, I'll know, and we'll cut your tongue out.”
“Why, we're just doing company business. Youâyou've just killed a representative of theâwhy, the crown.”
“What crown? The kingdom of murderers?” This from Quince, who had stepped into the clearing.
“We're lawful traders, consigned by the British and Dutch East India companies to obtain cargo in these parts.”
Jawa walked up to them, staring at the woman, who refused to be distracted from her grief. He placed his hand on the “lawful trader's” chest and pushed him gently several steps backward. Then he swung his club upwards, catching the man on his jaw, smashing it to pulp. A downward stroke finished the job.
“I guess the interrogation is over,” Quince muttered to Jack.
Jawa talked rapidly. Passed through Brown, it boiled down to: “These people are bad and have fire sticks. They must never know who did this to them. We must return to Belaur. We will not fight Papaloans until we speak to Yatoo.”
He looked again at the woman. Jack knew Jawa felt obliged to kill her, lest she inform on the intruders. Finally, though, he simply motioned his men back toward the canoes. Jack told the American contingent to follow, relief in his heart. Paul, weak and dazed, was now on his feet. He walked beside Jack, back to the cove.
I
T WAS A SOBER GROUP that arrived back on Belaur. Jawa left to report to Yatoo the unexpected turn the expedition had taken, and Quince convened a council of his men, including Quen-Li, in his large chief's hut. He asked Jack to relate the details of the encounter. For the first time, Paul understood what had taken place during the exchange of gunfire. The Westerner never got off an aimed shot. Jack had widened his eye with a rifle ball that subsequently penetrated his brain and created a considerably larger hole on exit. The man's musket discharged harmlessly. Jacob had also been keeping the man in his sights, from the other side of the clearing, and pulled the trigger before he realized Jack had fired. The man would have died from Jacob's shot through the neck if he wasn't already dead before he hit the ground. Paul had simply collapsed from emotional distress.
T WAS A SOBER GROUP that arrived back on Belaur. Jawa left to report to Yatoo the unexpected turn the expedition had taken, and Quince convened a council of his men, including Quen-Li, in his large chief's hut. He asked Jack to relate the details of the encounter. For the first time, Paul understood what had taken place during the exchange of gunfire. The Westerner never got off an aimed shot. Jack had widened his eye with a rifle ball that subsequently penetrated his brain and created a considerably larger hole on exit. The man's musket discharged harmlessly. Jacob had also been keeping the man in his sights, from the other side of the clearing, and pulled the trigger before he realized Jack had fired. The man would have died from Jacob's shot through the neck if he wasn't already dead before he hit the ground. Paul had simply collapsed from emotional distress.
Jack relaxed. Even the newly learned fact that a Belauran canoe had scouted the outside reef of Papalo and saw the top of a great white sail did not distress him.
“Blackbirders,” explained Quince. “They're raiding the islands for the John Boys and Dutch. Don't like to use company ships because the business is gettin' a bad name on the Continent. They use âcountry ships,' as they call 'em. Company reps and renegades do the dirty work and the profits go to the East India Company tills. They do the same with opium. Those buggers are probably carrying black cargo and white dust for the China trade. Damnedest thing is, they're legalâeven if they are the scum of the earth.”
“Legal! That's the most sickening thing I've ever seen.” Paul's voice trembled. He took a deep drink of grog.
“Aye, it took us all that way, but we can't go shooting merchants plying a legal trade, even if they're engaged in an ugly businessâleast not without being labeled brigands ourselves. That child woulda' chinked their profitsâa bit older and they would've kept it, and a woman pregnant would've been fineâbut the baby was just the wrong age for a sea . . . well, they saw the child as a burden.”
“Blast to hell what they saw it as. It was a child they murdered!”
Quince hardened his tone. “Now look here: no one's arguing with you. That's why Jack and Jacob killed the blighter, in addition to defending your own dumb ass. By the way, lad: you don't kill a man with the noise and the flash of a gun, you hit him with the damn ball. Now I know you was upset but you kinda reduced our options out there. From now on, mark my words, Paul and all of youânobody makes a move during a scrap without my say-so, or the command of my duly appointed warlord. Understood?”
The men's silence indicated assent.
“He's right,” Paul said. “I apologize for endangering the lot of us. I also thank you all for saving me from that smirking piece of scum.”
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