Beyond the Rim/Chapter 12

AMAKU achieved a raft with a wooden grating. To this he attached a spare halyard, coiling the slack and making a loop of the loose end to slip over his neck and beneath one arm. He freighted the little craft with two pigs of cast-iron ballast, took one of the oars that had floated out of the boat when it sank, and which he had recovered with the bottom-boards the night before, and paddled off to where they had seen the whale-boat vanish. The schooner lay between him and the shore as a bulwark for possible bullets, but he worked quickly.

He soon located it in the clear lagoon, lying on a patch of sand between the live coral. Sitting on the edge of his raft, he adjusted the line for smooth uncoiling, weighted himself with a pig of iron in each hand, and, as the grating tilted, slid gently down to the bottom, the line snaking off the float above him.

It was well over two minutes before his head bobbed up with a triumphant grin of white teeth.

“Hiki no!” (All right!) he called, and swam back to the schooner, towing the grating with the halyard fastened to it. Climbing aboard, he spliced it to the spare line Sayers had reeved through a block at the end of the main gaff, running down the spar through the throat-halyard block to another at the foot of the mast and so forward.

The two natives set their strength to the bars of the little capstan, the line tautened at an obtuse angle, and the whale-boat came slowly to the surface, then above it, while Hamaku ran out on the main boom and, as the water spilled, handled the slackened line until the boat once more rode on the water, and communication with the shore was reestablished.

Tuan Yuck had been busy with the binoculars. He noticed the removal of the tent, and picked out its furniture still standing amid the trees. The mounting sun sucked up the moisture that the overladen earth had been unable to carry off. Leaves that had drooped beneath the downpour revived, and everywhere the wet surfaces reflected the light, so that the magic mirrors were hardly noticeable. A steamy mist hung over the mangrove swamp.

Nowhere could the Chinaman gain a hint of the whereabouts of Chalmers and the girl, though he was certain they had broken camp. Landing was dangerous until they were discovered. Tuan Yuck's policies called for the making of ambuscades, not attacking them.

At Sayers's suggestion, Tomi climbed to the main spreaders for a wider view. He had hardly reached his perch before he called down to them that he saw smoke at the foot of the cliff. From the deck it was not to be distinguished from the mist above the mangroves.

Sayers looked at the mast and grunted. With the sails furled there were no rings to serve for foothold. Tomi had gone up it like a cat, planting his bare feet against the mast and grasping the halyards.

“I can't make that,” he said, “and I'm too heavy to haul. We could get you up easy enough, Tuan Yuck?”

“Why not?” assented the Chinaman. “I'll chance a stray shot.”

The throat halyards were cast loose, a loop made in them for Tuan Yuck's foot, and, with Hamaku and Sayers hauling, Tuan Yuck, steadying himself by the peak halyard, was readily lifted to the side of Tomi, where he focused his glass on Safety Haven.

The height enabled him to look over the cape and see a portion of the beach, ending in the farther promontory. It was high tide, and he was quick to appreciate the value of the place as a base of defense. The glass revealed the steep, flinty sides of the nearer headland, impossible to climb, and the masses of rock on the beach beyond from behind which an attacking party could be driven off without exposure. There was no sign of an encampment save where, close to the foot of the waterfall, a thread of smoke proclaimed the presence of a fire, masked by boulders and the verdure at the foot of the cliff.

“Our friend, Chalmers, possesses more military strategy than I gave him credit for,” he said to Sayers when he regained the deck. “He seemed to have chosen a good place for defense. I'd like to get a closer look at it. I wonder how they are off for supplies. They've got plenty of water.”

“They'd pot us if we took the boat,” said Sayers. “Let Hamaku swim in. He may be able to sneak up between the rocks and get a look at them, and a line on how they are fixed for grub.”

Hamaku took his instructions willingly enough, reassured of Tuan Yuck's power to compel ultimate obedience, and slipped quietly over the side for the long swim that meant nothing to his aquatic prowess. Sayers watched him start, then announced his intention of eating breakfast.

“I'm going to fill up on a square meal,” he announced. “First time I've felt like touching food for three days, thanks to your pills.”

Tuan Yuck looked at him curiously as he went below with more of vigor and purpose than he had shown for many days. The Oriental's shoulders lifted in the barest suggestion of a shrug as he went to the rail and trained his glasses on Hamaku's steady progress.

The sound of a shot and its echo from the cliff brought Sayers on deck.

“Did they get him?” He asked, hurrying to where Tuan Yuck stood gazing through the binoculars.

“I think not. I told him to look out and dive at the flash. I lost sight of him in the dazzle on the water just now. He's probably swimming underneath—there he is.”

Sayers took the glasses and picked up Hamaku's head, like a seal's, close in by the cape, before the native dived again.

IN HALF an hour Hamaku was aboard, unhurt but excited and eager for commendation.

“They saw me,” he said. “Just a little way the other side of the point. I did not see them—only the flash of the gun. So I dived quick and swam under water. There is fresh water off the point,” he went on, proud of his knowledge. “I felt it cooler as I swam through. Then I tasted, and I knew for sure. Plenty of fresh water coming up from the bottom, just off the point. That means a quicksand when the tide is low.”

“They're in there. That's the main point,” commented Tuan Yuck. “And if it's hard for us to get at them, it's just as hard for them to get out. You're a good boy, Hamaku.”

The native beamed with pleasure.

“Yes, Hamaku, you're all right,” seconded Sayers. “Well, we can work the lagoon for pearls and starve them out at the same time. Which reminds me I haven't finished my breakfast.”

He went below, beckoning Hamaku to follow. In the cabin he poured out a generous measure of gin.

“That was a long swim, Hamaku,” he said. “You did well. Take this.”

The Hawaiian's eyes glistened as he took the glass.

“Thank you,” he said in native, and tossed down the raw spirits with gusto.

“Have another?” asked Sayers, with the bottle ready tilted.

Hamaku beamed in gratitude at the unexpected access to the liquor he loved. It's warmth spread over his body, and he looked at the Australian as a starving dog might look at a man who tosses him a meaty bone, a glance that held readiness to serve, almost affection.

“This is just between you and me, Hamaku,” warned Sayers, as the Kanaka set down the glass. “You understand?” He tossed his head upward meaningly.

Hamaku nodded.

“I tell my tongue not to speak,” he said, and went on deck, carefully avoiding any proximity to Tuan Yuck.

Sayers smiled. He had found a weapon to offset Tuan Yuck's power over the natives.

“He can't keep 'em hypnotized all the time,” he muttered. “Lucky I brought plenty of gin along. There's nothing they won't do for that.” From force of habit he poured himself a drink, hesitated, then swallowed it. “Can't do any harm on a full stomach,” he told himself. “But I mustn't let it get the better of me.”

At which speech, Tuan Yuck, could he have heard it, would have smiled.