Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online
Authors: Gene Hackman
Wake of the Perdido Star (34 page)
“Also,” Jawa continued, “Gan Roba of Papalo lives.”
Yatoo seemed surprised at the news that the Papaloan warlord was still alive and uncaptured. “He offers his allegiance to you and vows to fight to the death by our side. He has about thirty men left who can still wage war.”
For the next week, twenty menâtwelve Americans and eight Belauransâpracticed from sunup until midday shooting the rifles salvaged from the
Star
. They picked an islet south of Belaur where there was no chance of the sound reaching the Dutch. Jack marveled at how quickly the group made progress. Unlike even the best-equipped European armies, the stranded Americans had a virtually unlimited supply of powder and shot with which to acquaint themselves to their weapons, and the only limits on their ability to train was eye fatigue and noiseâeven with wadding stuck in their ears, the sharp, brisk reports of the long rifles were painful after a while.
Star
. They picked an islet south of Belaur where there was no chance of the sound reaching the Dutch. Jack marveled at how quickly the group made progress. Unlike even the best-equipped European armies, the stranded Americans had a virtually unlimited supply of powder and shot with which to acquaint themselves to their weapons, and the only limits on their ability to train was eye fatigue and noiseâeven with wadding stuck in their ears, the sharp, brisk reports of the long rifles were painful after a while.
Jack taught them to lay the barrels on forked sticks like his father had shown him to do when testing arms. He helped each man sight-in his piece and fire at objects at varying distances, getting the sense of elevation necessary for long shots. By the end of the week the men were consistently hitting man-sized targets from
distances as great as three hundred yards. With the day of the parley approaching, Jack shifted the emphasis to moving targets, showing them tricks he had been taught by his young hunter friends back in New England. Native children dragged thatch and wooden targets for the shooters and even pushed canoes by with makeshift targets erected in them.
distances as great as three hundred yards. With the day of the parley approaching, Jack shifted the emphasis to moving targets, showing them tricks he had been taught by his young hunter friends back in New England. Native children dragged thatch and wooden targets for the shooters and even pushed canoes by with makeshift targets erected in them.
Each day Jack blindfolded the riflemen and had them practice reloading and firing their weapons. The young American was tireless and his enthusiasm infectious. The Belaurans included some men Jack's age; they treated Jack much as they did their own warlord, with deference and awe. Yanoo and Matoo, stepsons of Yatoo, were particularly dedicated and quick to learn.
Jawa, for his part, treated Jack as an equal, and took his own turn at firing the weapons, though he opted not to be one of the marksmen because of the amount of time it would require to train properly. He needed his spare hours to work with his own men in their reconnaissance of the Dutch camp, and spent long evenings with Jack hunched over a fire with Brown as interpreter, refining their strategy.
Jack became more at ease. Action was in the offing. The defense of his new family against a despicable enemy calmed him in a strange way. In the evenings Jack and Paul let the Belauran children dunk them in the shallows and sneak up on them, breathing through hollow reeds. Even his time spent with Wyalum had been more enjoyable. They had not made love, but one evening she had come into his hut and had placed his head in her lap; he had fallen into a dreamless sleep with her stroking his hair and cheek. But all these activities were simply a respite from thinking of the work ahead, and ultimately of his main missionâJack O'Reilly had business half a world away that still consumed him.
P
AUL, BELIEVING HE had to redeem himself in some way for his comportment during the shooting episode at Papalo, insisted on accompanying the Belauran scouting parties. They were engaged in the risky business of spying on the activities of the Dutch on land and the disposition of the sailboat they used for daily transport. The harassment attack planned by Jack to provoke the enemy could only be successful if they had reliable knowledge of their day-to-day operations.
AUL, BELIEVING HE had to redeem himself in some way for his comportment during the shooting episode at Papalo, insisted on accompanying the Belauran scouting parties. They were engaged in the risky business of spying on the activities of the Dutch on land and the disposition of the sailboat they used for daily transport. The harassment attack planned by Jack to provoke the enemy could only be successful if they had reliable knowledge of their day-to-day operations.
Jack feared Paul's desire to prove himself might make him a liability; on the day before the planned raid on the Dutch, he was proven right. Two Belaurans that Paul had accompanied on a reconnaissance trip returned without him. The distraught men explained that they were lying in hiding, observing the prisoner pens, when they were surprised by a Dutch party returning from a foray through the swamp behind them. When it was certain they would be discovered, Paul had leapt to his feet and run out in the open. The Belaurans couldn't understand what he was saying, but
Paul was acting strangely. The armed men took him prisoner but didn't go searching for others, which seemed odd to the scouts. When the Dutch were out of sight, the Belaurans stayed hidden for some time longer before carefully making their way back.
Paul was acting strangely. The armed men took him prisoner but didn't go searching for others, which seemed odd to the scouts. When the Dutch were out of sight, the Belaurans stayed hidden for some time longer before carefully making their way back.
Jack intently listened to Brown interpreting, trying to comprehend the full meaning of what had happened. He suppressed his panic for Paul's safety and analyzed the situation. Paul had obviously sacrificed himself to save his native comrades, which Jack could tell greatly moved the men. But like the Belaurans, he was at a loss to explain why the Dutch wouldn't have sounded a general alarm and searched for the other infiltratorsâa one-man reconnaissance in this situation would have made no sense.
None in the Brotherhood uttered a word as Jack sat wrapped in his own thoughts for what seemed hours. Suddenly, he stood and with a grim look of determination announced that they would proceed with their plan despite the possibility that Paul would be tortured into telling what he knew. “For one thing,” he announced, “I quit telling Paul any details of the raid once I knew he was set on taking part in the scouting.” Jack tried to sound businesslike but his heart felt like it was full of lead.
The scruffy party of blackbirders took Paul straight to the man in charge of the camp. They seemed to Paul to be a mixture of Dutch and English with some French thugs thrown inâbut the leadership was mainly Dutch.
“This bloke came running out of the bush yelling at us like we was his long-lost cousins, sergeant. Says he's some kinda Monsieur La Merdeâ”
Paul fairly screamed in the man's face, “Le Maire, you blessed idiot! Count Le Maire, and I demand to be taken to a gentleman of substance to whom I may express my gratitude. I will not be spoken toâ”
“Now shut yer trap, laddy, lest I knock yer royal teeth outta yer head,” snapped one of his captors.
The sergeant of dragoons raised his hand for silence. He looked Paul over with a stolid face. “Yo spek Anglisch, American?”
“A little,” Paul answered. “I'm French, captured by the Americans and forced to help in their nefarious plots. Parlez-vous français?”
“He's full of shit to his lyin' ears,” came a voice from the back of the crowd of dragoons. Paul thought the man sounded British. “He's one of 'em. Let's hang 'im from a yardarm of the
Stuyvesant
so the damn Yanks can see him easy with their scouting parties.”
Stuyvesant
so the damn Yanks can see him easy with their scouting parties.”
The sergeant addressed himself to the bunch that had brought Paul in. “You check for others?”
“Well, we . . . what others?”
“He may or may not be what he says. Go back and check that area thoroughly where you found him, see if there is sign of others.” Then turning to one of his own dragoons, “Take him to Arloon and De Vries.”
The sergeant's English is quite good after all, thought Paul. Clever man.
Paul was praying his bluff would hold long enough for his friends to escape. He never thought he would be grateful for the association with nobility that came from his father, but being a prig now might just save his life. The blackbirders were suspicious but he could also tell they were unsure: having a French nobleman leaping out of the brush and grabbing their legs in gratitude was not what they expected from a Belauran war party.
De Vries sipped from a cup of steaming chocolate, one arm resting on the poop deck rail of the
Stuyvesant
, and studied Paul. The day had started hot and humid, and now clouds behind him were threatening, heavy with rain. Captain Arloon had a cup of tea in
his own hand. The men had been speaking English in Paul's presence. Paul knew this was significant. They were buying at least part of his story, that of being a nobleman, and treating him accordingly: Paul had pompously demanded a stool, and De Vries had a servant provide one. But using English also meant they weren't concerned about how much he knew. Paul hoped that didn't indicate an intent to do him in forthwith.
Stuyvesant
, and studied Paul. The day had started hot and humid, and now clouds behind him were threatening, heavy with rain. Captain Arloon had a cup of tea in
his own hand. The men had been speaking English in Paul's presence. Paul knew this was significant. They were buying at least part of his story, that of being a nobleman, and treating him accordingly: Paul had pompously demanded a stool, and De Vries had a servant provide one. But using English also meant they weren't concerned about how much he knew. Paul hoped that didn't indicate an intent to do him in forthwith.
Captain Arloon did not speak French but could get by well enough in English. De Vries seemed to want Paul to be witness to the conversation; it was almost as if he felt a kinship with Paul, the only other person present of high birth. Paul had thrown his father's name around gratuitously and emulated all the mannerisms of the classes he had learned to despise. He believed that De Vries knew vaguely of his father and was considering what sort of reward or favors might be in order for rescuing such a connected person.
Paul believed that none of the Dutch, including De Vries, was convinced he wasn't in collaboration with the Americans; but it hardly mattered now. Paul's knowledge of their plans posed no threat a pistol ball couldn't eliminate and he might even be of some use. It hardly made sense to torture Paul for information, as they found it almost impossible to shut the young man up. He had regaled any of his captors who would listen with stories of atrocities committed by the Americans, particularly one ruthless Jack O'Reilly.
Paul gathered that Arloon had been reluctant to support De Vries's planned assault; he didn't like the thought of maneuvering his ship so close to the reef, and the prospect of more bloodshed was not attractive. De Vries's type seemed to bother him. This fit with what Paul had gleaned from Quince about the Dutch East India Company. Ruthless men were fast dominating the remnants of the trade since the company had turned its assets over to the government. Many of the old hands found their lack of scruples disturbing.
De Vries suddenly directed his conversation almost exclusively to Paul. He described how the blacks were precious cargo that would fetch decent prices in the South Pacific and excellent prices
in any of the mainland ports on the way back to Europe. They were semilegitimate cargo, one could argue, for they were not slaves but pressed labor. They were cargo that loaded and unloaded itself without days of docking and handling fees, and it was even unclear that duties need be paid. Paul nodded and shook his head at what he thought were appropriate times. Thanks for the lesson in scurrilous business practices, you incredible ass.
in any of the mainland ports on the way back to Europe. They were semilegitimate cargo, one could argue, for they were not slaves but pressed labor. They were cargo that loaded and unloaded itself without days of docking and handling fees, and it was even unclear that duties need be paid. Paul nodded and shook his head at what he thought were appropriate times. Thanks for the lesson in scurrilous business practices, you incredible ass.
“Best of all,” De Vries went on, “a ship carrying human cargo is too politically awkward a prize, given the winds of war and politics blowing in Europe.”
“Vraiment, vous avez raison,” agreed Paul.
With a sly look on his face, De Vries explained further that a ship carrying human cargo in these times presented enough consternation and distraction to port officials that they rarely spent much time looking for opium. Although the Dutch dared not enter inland waters of Chinaâwhere there was even a slight chance of being caught with white death by an emperor's patrolâthere were always Chinese shore-runners who would take that risk for them.
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