Young Dick Page 13

CHAPTER TWELVE

  Richard returned to a ransacked cabin. Kucing had ripped one of Richard’s shirts to shreds, scored deep scratch marks into the bulkheads, and in a final act of defiance deposited turds on the deck. Kucing sat on a bunk, his eyes fixed on Richard and his bent tail switching from one side to the other like a semaphore signal. Richard sighed, set a dish of fresh fish and another of water on the deck and began to clean up the mess with his ex-shirt. When he had finished the cat jumped down to the deck, sniffed indifferently at the food and, turning away to expose his arse and considerable testicles ,stalked off stiff-legged to lay claim to the rest of the ship. The watch got worse when another replaced one arrogant animal: Smyth had been bundled out of his small cabin to make way for the pilot Suleman. He said nothing dumping his sea bag and returned to the deck.

  The Captain, the Navigation Officer, the Bosun and Suleman made an unlikely quartet, but between them managed to plot a course for Subtile. Suleman had drawn from memory an accurate map of the southern islands of the Spanish Philippines and their destination at Mindanao, and beyond that to clear ocean in the northeast. Beyond that, again he had placed an arrow to the south, indicating a vast unexplored expanse. It would be within this area that Subtile would discover a new continent, if it existed. The immediate problem was to thread their way through Spanish occupied territory and avoid discovery. Lookouts had been doubled.

  Richard did not usually wake up in the middle of his sleeping watch, but he did that night: something warm and wet was on his legs. He sat up with a start, but this did not disturb the two yellow eyes that stared at him from the end of the bunk. He cursed and tindered alight a lantern. There on his leg was a very large and very dead rat; Kucing watched and waited for some display of gratitude. “Well done, Kucing,” Richard reached forward to pat him, but the cat was not ready for personal contact and leaped away into the darkness. Richard toyed with the idea of putting the carcass into Smyth’s bunk but decided one disruption was enough for one night. He placed it under his bunk and would throw it overboard on his next watch.

  “Sail ho on the port beam!” The lookout’s cry caused the Captain to stamp across the quarterdeck and clack open his three-length telescope. The top-sails of a fully rigged ship shimmered into focus.

  “Tack away thirty degrees to starboard, First, we need to show a clean pair of heels.” The Captain watched the resulting activity with a critical eye. The unidentified ship faded under the horizon after an hour but the Captain and his officers remained uneasy. They had probably been seen. Subtile resumed its former course for the southern Philippines.

  Rain spoiled the vista of small tropical islands as they slid past Subtile and disappeared into the wall of the downpour. Puffs of smoke on most of them indicated habitation. The rain also concealed a concerted attack on Subtile by scores of rowed and sail vessels that descended on the ship with the intensity of a hurricane. The Captain was about to order an armed response when Suleman strode to the rail in formal robes and identified himself. Immediately the bow waves on the attacking vessels vanished as the boats stopped dead in the water, and great cries of joy and excitement overcame the noise of the torrential rain: “Suleman, Suleman, Suleman!”

  Their leader had come home.

  The locals would not wait for Subtile to tack towards anchorage and jabbered insistence that Suleman board their largest vessel to be borne ashore. Suleman explained to the Bosun, who explained to the Captain, who agreed to the request. Suleman descended into the boat and onto the stern, where he was ceremoniously rowed ashore like an Admiral of the Blue. Subtile lowered anchor an hour later and awaited a summons from ashore; it was not long in coming.

  Suleman escorted the Captain and three of his officers about the town. They were greeted everywhere by the town’s population with smiles, flowers and expressions of respect. Suleman had explained to them that they were the enemies of Spain, a fact traditionally if not technically correct. That they had rescued their leader from the pirates and destroyed the pirate town was of much more importance. The party paused by the ruins of a wooden mosque destroyed by the orders of Spanish bishops, and the Gunnery Officer, looking at the rock formations behind the town, had an idea. When the tour was over the festivities began, but unlike the previous all night party, this one was continuous and ended only with the departure of Subtile three days later.

  The Captain allowed watches ashore when off duty to partake in the festivities provided they took no grog – alcohol was forbidden in the Muslim society – did not molest the local women and were back on board at the designated time. Jamie reinforced this regimen by allowing a generous supply of grog to a returning watch party. In fact liaisons did occur between the crew and some local girls, but these were discreet and both sides pretended ignorance. Richard had hoped to join Billings and the party to row to Pig Island where the locals had marooned the forbidden animals and replenish the ship’s supply of salted pork, but Guns had other plans. The plans necessitated Richard loading the jolly boat with two barrels of gunpowder, picks, shovels and a long auger drill. Two reluctant sailors joined them. A group of similarly equipped locals meet them on the beach.

  “Right lads, follow me for a spot of quarrying,” Guns marched purposely through the town towards a limestone rock formation beyond the village. Richard and the crewmembers strolled somewhat less purposely and the locals reluctantly followed. At the cliff face stood the local religious imam; unsure whether to look happy or fierce, he settled for indifference. Guns selected the best passage to the top of the face and his workforce dutifully cut in rough steps to assist the bearers haul the gear to the top. Everything stopped for morning prayers. Guns then ordered holes dug or drilled according to the rock formations and then loaded a small charge into each.

  “We must bull the holes mustn’t we?” he quipped to an ignorant audience. Everything stopped for noon prayers. Guns fired each fuse long ones first and hastily retired to a safe distance. There was a pause and then a series of dull thuds as each charge exploded in sequence. Guns then returned and inspected the enlarged bases of the drilling and diggings.

  “Excellent! Start loading the powder charges into the cavities.” Everything stopped for afternoon prayers. When all the charges were loaded Guns ordered everyone well back from the cliff face and repeated the fuse sequence. He lit the master fuse and scampered down the steps to join his party in blocking their ears. An earth shuddering crump occurred, then nothing but a look of consternation on Gun’s face. Then slowly, and as if reluctantly, the cliff face toppled and slid to the ground in hundreds of manageable pieces. The locals seized on one and soon had a square stone carved out of the soft material. It was borne back to the town in triumph.

  Awaiting them was a surprise: Suleman had had the old site of the ruined mosque cleared and new foundations marked out. The Imam managed a smile as he laid the new foundation stone.

  “That should be a whole lot harder to burn down,” exclaimed a proud Guns. Then everything stopped for evening prayers.

  A boat bumped alongside Subtile, containing not supplies of food and water but three unkempt Europeans. They had been sculled out by a boatman carrying permission from Suleman. They were allowed on board and taken to the Captain’s cabin. Two were tall thin Hollanders with long beards and pale blue eyes, and the third man was a small Portuguese who had made some attempt to make himself presentable. One of the Hollanders spoke passable English and the Captain invited him to tell his story.

  “Thank you Sir, my name is Luek Moeller and my friend is Ruben van Stellen: we were captured by the Spanish after our ship the Prince William foundered off the northern tip of the Philippines. We were incarcerated in their stinking gaol in Manila where we met Senor Sanchez Dias who is a distant relative of the famous navigator, not that that did him any good.” Luek bobbed his head towards the Portuguese who had stiffened to attention at the mention of his name. “It seems the Portuguese are not welcome in this part of the world after the Pope divided it up, giving the Spa
nish the Pacific.” The Hollander’s voice had become hoarse and the Captain indicated to Richard to hand him a glass of water. “Senor Diaz is of course a Catholic and it was a priest who arranged his parole, and he in turn bribed the prison Governor to arrange our release. We worthless Protestants are grateful for his Christian charity.” The Hollander tried a chuckle but no one shared his attempt at humor.

  “Manila is a long way from Mindanao; how did you end up here?” The Captain asked.

  “Hours after our release the corrupt Governor dispatched troops to recapture us, but we were helped by the local population and the laxity of the troops. It took us a year to reach here and we are not the first: another Hollander has lived here for five years, but he has married a local girl and embraced Islam; he will not leave.” The tall Hollander sighed.

  “You wish to ship out with us?” asked the Captain.

  “Yes Sir, but we have no money and are prepared to sign on and work our passage,” answered Luek. It did not take long for the Captain to reach a decision: the extra hands would be welcome after their losses, and he believed the Portuguese offered a lot more than his polite silence.

  “Are you aware that we are on the outward leg of a voyage of exploration that may last another two years in as yet uncharted waters?” the Captain asked. The two Hollanders conferred and then included the Portuguese in local and sign language.

  “It will be better, Sir, than staying here for the rest of our lives, at least we have a chance of returning home,” Luek replied.

  “Then I agree to your request. Richard, take them to the Purser to sign them on and show them where to stow their gear.” When the three relieved men and Richard had left the Captain turned to Jamie. “Put the two Dutchmen on separate watches First, just in case, and have Senor Diaz assigned to the Navigation Officer; he can bunk in the old midshipmen’s quarters. I desire that the Bosun hear his story without the presence of the Hollanders: my feeling is there is more to this story than we have had so far.” In the months ahead the Bosun often quizzed Senor Diaz but learned little apart from more details of their adventure. The reason why the Portuguese paid for the Hollanders’ release remained an enigma.

  A flotilla of boats escorted Subtile out to sea, and the hospitable Mindanaens waved farewell until Subtile blended into the horizon. Subtile headed northeast to clear Spanish territories, then southeast into uncharted waters.