The Pirates of Shan Part 11

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 s.h.i.+rt 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 a.s.sented. "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 s.h.i.+p 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!"