Benjamin Pike did not like traipsing through tropical forests at all, least of all in the dead of night. His fool leg kept sticking in the soft earth, and even with the moon, he could hardly see his way.
But something had to be done, and quickly, if he intended to save his neck, and that of his crew. Not to mention his two shipments of highly profitable cargo.
If Chou had mingled with the natives at all—and the possibility seemed undeniable that he had—then he must know that the Tiger had three days to make her repairs and clear out. That meant Chou would have to make his move sometime tomorrow, perhaps even this very night, in order to prevent the Tiger from making a fast getaway. For whatever he may have said, from the moment Pike laid eyes on the Chinaman, he knew he had robbery and pillage on his mind.
The only way to deal with scoundrels like Chou was to beat them to the punch, seize the initiative, cut a bargain if you could, or better, intimidate them—that is, if you possessed anything that would put fear into them. The guns in the Tiger’s hold would no doubt have held off three crews the size of Chou’s. But that would have taken ammunition, and unfortunately that had not been part of the cargo. So Pike, the veteran negotiator, swindler, and sea-faring privateer, would have to try another tack. He hoped Chou would be dutifully impressed. At least enough to leave them alone.
Pike well knew the strength of crew a junk like the Kiaochow was likely to possess, for Digger was not the only one guilty of a little ill-advised boasting that night. They outnumbered the Tiger’s men at least two to one, maybe more; if they had succeeded in buying off the natives, or cowing them into submission, the odds would be far worse.
Pike had never been afraid of a fight. He had been in many in his time. But this would be nothing short of a massacre. He was already missing a leg, and he did not fancy losing his neck to boot! At the same time, he had no intention of losing his cargo either. Ten thousand pounds sterling worth of guns, not to mention half that in opium, or whatever the stuff was—he would not give up these riches without giving up his life in the process!
The only way he could see to keep both was to confront Chou, and try to cut a deal with the pirate. He did not relish the idea of getting his throat slit. But he was not fool enough to walk into enemy territory without some insurance.
The long trek through tangled underbrush with only one good leg was a grueling undertaking. He was lucky to find his way. And Pike was no longer a young man. When at last he reached the fringes of Chou’s camp, he stopped and leaned a few moments on his crutch, breathless. They were a confident lot, he thought. No sentry even posted. He walked on until he could see the glow of a smoldering fire.
A sharp challenge suddenly rang through the night. It was in Chinese, but he knew the intent of the words.
“I come to see Chou,” Pike replied. “You tell him I’m the captain of the Sea Tiger. And I too bring a gift.” He held up his last bottle of brandy—worth ten of the cheap rum Chou had passed off on them.
A long pause followed, after which the lookout motioned him forward. From the look of the place, Chou and his men had been there for some time. If their story about weathering there during the storm for repairs was true, then this was not the first time they had been there. More likely, thought Pike, they used this place as a hideout after their raids. And it was indeed a fine setup—located in a clearing in the jungle, far enough from the beach to be obscure, but near enough to spot any visitors, however unlikely they might be on this treacherous eastern side of the island.
The camp itself was large enough to accommodate fifty men comfortably. Two shacks had been erected at either end—of bamboo and sturdy lauan. If they had weathered that last typhoon, they would have to be considered permanent! Between, at scattered intervals, lay the individual bivouacs of the crew, and by the look of it, their boasts had not been hollow. A quick count revealed some twenty sleeping bodies, not counting the lookouts, the men still on the junk, and Chou.
The guard led Pike to one of the shacks, obviously Chou’s quarters. After a sharp knock and several brief words, followed by an even sharper reply from inside, Pike was instructed to enter. He was met immediately with the heavy, sickening odor of opium mixed with rum.
“You Englishmen have strange social custom,” said Chou dryly. “In China, we pay visits more seemly hours.”
“There is a time for everything, as they say,” replied Pike as he settled himself on a low cushion opposite the Chinese leader. An opium receptacle stood between them, and Chou offered Pike a long, cylindrical pipe. “No, thanks,” said Pike. “I like to keep my head clear.”
“Do not make mistake of underestimating clarity of honorable host’s head.”
“Thank you for warning me. I wouldn’t think of it.”
“So, have you come for business, as you English say, or pleasure?”
Pike offered up his brandy. “Perhaps a little of both, I hope. No need for it to be otherwise.”
Chou took the bottle, and while he poured each of them a serving in two fine porcelain cups, Pike took in his surroundings. Silk tapestries hung on the walls of the shack, all of ancient Chinese scenes—emperors and deities and pagodas. A bed at one end of the room was encased in mosquito netting and more silken tapestries, and the cushions on which Pike sat were of thick, rich velvet. Chou knows how to live well, if nothing else, thought Pike. He must do well in his business!
Brandy in hand, Pike raised his for a toast. “May we find mutual interests and prosper in them.”
They drained their cups and Chou refilled them.
“I am intrigued, Captain Pike,” said Chou, with what might have been taken as a cunning grin.
“You and I both know,” Pike said, following the train of thought his host had begun, “that a man . . . such as yourself, might—and who could blame him?—find a cargo such as the Sea Tiger’s very tempting.”
“How should I know of your cargo?”
“Come now, you heard the boastings of my foolish men as well as any. You do not need to be coy.”
Chou laughed outright—a high-pitched sound that was hardly in keeping with his great, burly frame. This was the first time the fly had come right into the spider’s den to try to talk his way out of the inevitable. “So,” said the pirate after a moment, dabbing the corners of his eyes with a silk handkerchief, “you have come to beg mercy.”
Now Pike returned the laugh, matching the pirate’s in harshness and cruelty. “I have come to warn you to tread lightly where the Sea Tiger is concerned.”
“Warn me!” exploded Chou in a momentary rage. “Warn Chou!”
He stopped, suddenly struck with the humor of what he had said.
“Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed, his anger diverted for a moment. “You English dogs are so amusing!”
Suddenly he whipped his cutlass from its scabbard and pressed its point against Pike’s chest. “What, tell me, would prevent your venerable host from taking whatever he pleases—including your groveling life? Ha, ha!”
The suddenness of Chou’s intimidating threat took Pike by surprise. “I . . . I . . .” he tried to speak, but further words stuck in his dry throat.
“Aha! So the English pig is not so confident at end of sword!” Chou gloated. “Warning, indeed!”
Pike cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure. “You would do well to take heed, pirate!” Pike spat out the word defiantly, though his voice still carried the hint of a tremble. “You would not dare cross the buyer of my goods.”
“I do what I please!”
“Have you no familiarity with the name Wang K’ung-wu?”
The moment the name fell from Pike’s lips, the pressure of Chou’s cutlass immediately decreased. Slowly he dropped it from Pike’s chest.
“So . . . you have heard of my client,” Pike went on in a steadier voice, regaining his confidence. “And you know he would not be happy to find his precious cargo tampered with, or lost upon the high seas.”
“You English barbarians have saying—Dead men tell no tales!” Chou smiled at his own wit, but Pike was not through yet.
“Wang knows the cargo, knows my schedule, it wouldn’t surprise me if he already has me being watched—somehow! The man is unscrupulous! Wang will know if anything happens, of that you can be certain!”
Pike paused a moment, letting his words sink in. He knew Wang K’ung-wu’s reputation would do more than anything he might say. His was a name to shoot fear into even a pirate, however ruthless, throughout the whole Far East.
“Have you ever seen Wang angry?” he went on. “Why, I have seen him cut off a man’s fingers for taking his drink, or gouge out a man’s eyes for looking upon his woman. How many men he has killed by his own hand, I wouldn’t even guess. Don’t think you will escape lightly for trying to rob him, my friend. Which is what he will take it to be if harm comes to me or my ship.”
Chou leaned back and, weaving his fingers together, rested his hands against his large mid-section. “Yes, that may be so,” he said slowly, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his devilish face. “But it could well be that he honor man who bring him cargo—at no cost.” He threw his head back and roared in laughter. “He Chinese. He not trust likes of you, Pike. He pay you for guns, but still mistrust you. If I bring him guns . . . as gift—he happy!”
Again he laughed uproariously.
Pike swore silently to himself. He had never thought of such an angle. The pirate could indeed steal the guns, then ingratiate himself to Wang by turning them over free of charge. These idiot Orientals would be just fool enough to do such a thing! But he would not relent just yet.
“Only a fool would harm a friend of Wang’s,” he said.
“Friend! Bah! Wang have no friends!”
“Before you are so hasty about it, you had better ask him about his old comrade Benjamin Pike.”
Chou was thoughtful a moment, apparently weighing Pike’s words, eyeing him carefully while sheathing his cutlass. Still he wore his smug grin.
“Perhaps I spare you, dog,” he said at length. “Would be curious to see how friendly Wang is to you, no? Perhaps I take you to him myself.”
Pike swallowed hard. While it was true he and Wang had done some business together, he knew Chou was right. Wang K’ung-wu hated foreigners. At best this little ploy might buy Pike some time—and perhaps a different locale for his death.
“Now—get out of here, dog!” cried Chou. “Go warn crew their doom is near—very near!”
Pike heaved himself up from the floor, wondering what might happen if he killed Chou right here and now. He could do it. But escape would be a lost cause. He quickly gave up the idea. It would be a stupid act. He wasn’t ready to die just yet! He hobbled out of the shack without another word.
As he made his way through the blackened jungle, he did not feel altogether defeated, even though he had not exactly attained his objective. Perhaps Chou was too confident. He let Pike walk away. He considered him a stupid, barbarian dog. That was fine! thought Pike. Just so long as it kept the pirate confident enough to trip over that filthy grin! And he had at least given him something to think about by throwing Wang into the discussion. If he did try to seize the Tiger, Pike was sure it would not be without some serious soul-searching—if the savage even had a soul!
There was one other thing Pike had working in his favor. Chou knew the Tiger had been given three days to make repairs. But that night around the fire, Pike had subtly let it be known that they would never be ready by then. He let word slip that the rudder was nowhere near completed and that they could well be up to a week. In reality, however, they could sail within hours. With difficulty—yes. But it could be done.
Suddenly Pike stopped still in his tracks.
He’d heard something in the forest—no natural sound, but rather what sounded like booted feet. He could not have been followed from Chou’s camp.
All at once, Robbie stepped out into Pike’s path.
“Well, laddie,” said Pike, relieved, “fancy meetin’ the likes o’ you here!”
“What are you doing out in the jungle?” asked Robbie, somewhat sharply, for he too had been startled by the other’s appearance.
“I’m thinkin’ I could ask the same of you,” returned the skipper coolly.
“Yes, I suppose you could.” Lately Robbie found himself suspicious of nearly everything Pike did, and now he wondered if these were the same kind of thoughts that were responsible for Pike’s odd behavior toward him. It chilled him to think that he might be falling into the same pit of mistrust as the old sailor.
“Well, we ain’t gots time to be passin’ the time of day,” said Pike, shaking off any accusations that might have risen to his lips. For the moment they would each have to lay aside their personal suspicions at finding the other in the forest in the middle of the night.
“What’s wrong?” asked Robbie.
“I’ll tell ye what’s wrong.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out o’ here—tonight.”
“That’s impossible. The ship—”
“Quiet, man!” Pike nervously looked this way and that. “I said we’re gettin’, an’ we’re gettin’. Chou is preparin’ to attack us, an’ our only chance to save our necks is to sail tonight. You got to run back to camp—they’d massacre us before I got there on this crutch! Rouse the men, break up camp. Get the rudder an’ half the men to the Tiger first an’ get that blasted rudder on!—I don’t care if you got to hold it on yersel’! The rest o’ us’ll come wi’ the supplies in the other boat. We’ll be there afore ye’re finished with the rudder.”
Robbie studied Pike a moment, saw the dead earnestness in his words, and broke into a full run back to camp.