The Pirates of Shan Part 22

"Rick and Scotty here," Rick called. "Do you hear us?"

Tony Briotti's familiar voice answered. "Rick and Scotty! You two young cliff hangers! What took you so long to get back? Zircon kept us posted, and we were worried sick. We kept watching the village, expecting you to be hauled in as prisoners."

Rick explained about the unfavorable wind, and Scotty added, "Besides, we took it easy crossing the volcano. We hammered spikes in a few rough places to make it easier when we come back for you."

"You can't," Tony said swiftly. "Boys, believe me, we're grateful for the attempt, but you can't get away with it. There's a lookout in position to see us at all times, and there's no way you can sneak up on him. I've told Zircon this. You must not try!"

"How is Dr. Shannon?" Rick asked.

"Fine. We're all fine, although we could use a bath and some home cooking. But don't try to change the subject, Rick. You must not try to get us out of here. You'd end up in this prison, if not dead."

Rick could see that the conversation was leading nowhere, and he knew now that the scientists were all right. "We're tired, Tony," he said wearily. "It's been a rough night."

"All right, boys. One of us will be awake at all times, so call us whenever you wish."

Zircon looked at them anxiously as they put the radio units away. "How about it? Is Tony right?"

"Right as radishes," Rick a.s.sented. "The lookout is where we can't reach him, except with a gun, and the noise of a shot would defeat us. I'm sure there's some way out of this, but I can't think straight. I'm too tired."

"Below and into your bunks, both of you," Zircon commanded. "Chahda and I will stand by until we're in safe waters, then we can all get some sleep."

Rick needed no second invitation. He was asleep in five minutes. Hours later a ray of sun through the porthole woke him out of deep, dreamless slumber. He stretched luxuriously. A wash and a cold drink would be just right, he decided, and wondered how long he had been asleep. His watch told him it was two thirty in the afternoon.

He got to his feet and saw that Scotty was out of his bunk, probably on deck. Chahda was sleeping quietly, even though the swinging quiver Rick had placed on a hook near the bunk struck him in the elbow every time the boat rolled.

Rick lifted the quiver down and started to hang it where Chahda wouldn't be bothered. He paused, brows furrowed. He had the answer to their problem in his hands. An arrow was silent.

He shook his head and put the quiver away. It would mean putting a hunting arrow through the guard's head without warning. He knew perfectly well he was incapable of killing a man in cold blood, no matter what the provocation. It would be an easy shot, but one he would never make.

Zircon and Scotty were relaxed on deck when Rick joined them after a quick shower. They greeted him soberly.

"Did you dream the right answer?" Scotty asked.

"Didn't dream at all," he retorted. "I've had only one idea, and it won't do." He told them about the bow.

Zircon smiled understandingly. "I quite agree, Rick. I couldn't do it either, even if I had the skill." He changed the subject. "I talked with Howard while you were sleeping. He agrees with Tony. We must not make the try."

"Let's not give up," Scotty pleaded. "We haven't explored every possible idea."

"True," Zircon agreed. "Rick, you don't know all that Tony and Howard told us. It seems there was a reason behind their kidnaping after all."

"What?"

"Yes. Remember the missing Filipino boy from Manila? Elpidio Torres?

Seems he's a young naturalist. He ran away from home to join Shannon and Briotti when he read of their expedition in the papers. And how do you suppose he did it?"

The light dawned. "Of course! The young Moro guide!" Rick exclaimed. "I get it now. The pirates weren't after our boys at all. They were after the Torres kid. Only to get him, they had to grab Briotti and Shannon, too!"

"Exactly right. Tony and Howard didn't even know who he was. They hired him in good faith. Then, when the pirates showed up in the Bagobo village, they tried to defend the boy and got taken, too. They were brought here in the rented sailboat, along with the Torres boy. The sailboat was repainted and taken into Indonesia to be sold. Now, Tony says, the pirates are getting restless. If the ransom for the Torres boy isn't forthcoming in a few days, they may all vanish for good."

Rick swallowed hard. There must be a way to get that guard! He looked at Scotty. "Could you bean that lookout with a stone from a sling?"

Scotty shook his head. "Angle and range are wrong. I might be lucky, but I might not. If not, there goes the ball game. Of course I could make a sling easily enough."

The boys referred to the ancient variety of sling, rather than the modern slingshot. Both were adept in its use, although Scotty was the better shot.

Scotty continued, "Why does a bowshot have to be lethal? You've got some blunt arrows."

The moment the words "blunt arrows" were spoken Rick's mind went into high gear. The arrows in the quiver wouldn't do; at that range, with so powerful a bow, even a blunt arrow in the head would kill. But if he could somehow give the arrow a broader and blunter head, so the impact would be spread over a greater area, it could stun without killing.

"Professor, get the details on when the lookout is changed and anything else that might be useful," Rick said quickly. "I think I've got an idea that will work, thanks to Scotty's comment."

He hurried below, went forward, and rummaged around in the rope locker.

He moved to the paint locker and examined everything within reach. There was nothing suitable. Disappointed, he went on deck and examined the superstructure. A wooden barrel plug would be ideal, but they didn't have a barrel aboard. There was only a fifty-gallon steel drum used as a spare fuel supply. If worst came to worst, he could fashion a head from a piece of the fender board. Then his eyes suddenly fell on the flagstaff astern and he let out a yell of delight.

Scotty and Zircon watched as he unshipped the staff from its holder and pulled it down. It had a gilded sphere about the size of a baseball on top. Rick tested it anxiously. It was glued tightly.

"Scotty!" Zircon bellowed. "There's a saw in the tool chest, and I believe I saw a brace and bits."

Both Scotty and Zircon had seen instantly what Rick was after. The large, smooth ball would spread the arrow's impact over a greater area.

Scotty returned in a moment with the tools, and sawed the ball off. Then Rick got a blunt arrow from the quiver and cut the metal tip off with his knife. He bored a hole of the proper size in the base of the ball.

The arrow fitted perfectly.

Rick tested the balance of the now-ungainly arrow and shook his head.

"I'm not sure I can hit anything with it."

"Get the bow!" Zircon commanded. "Scotty, put a screw through the base of the ball to hold it on the shaft. I'm going to rig a backstop so Rick can practice."

The scientist found a tarpaulin and strung it up like a curtain across the stern. At the center of the tarpaulin he pinned a work glove.

Rick studied the setup. The canvas would give, absorbing the shock of the arrow and allowing it to fall on deck. It would be all right. He didn't want to chance losing the ball.

He consulted with Scotty, and they paced off the approximate distance he would have to shoot, then he climbed on the pilothouse roof to get the proper elevation. Spreading the bow a few times to loosen his muscles, he began to practice.

The arrow was terribly nose heavy, and its whole response to the bow was changed. At first he missed by two or three feet. Then, as he continued to practice, his accuracy began to improve.

He stopped after a while and had a c.o.ke. "I'll never be able to shoot a normal arrow again," he complained.

Scotty grinned. "Make this shot and you'll never have to shoot again."

By the time Chahda emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Rick was on target. Four out of five shots. .h.i.t the glove. Then, nine out of ten were in the palm.

Zircon called a halt, took the glove from the tarp, and slipped it on.

He tucked a folded handkerchief into the glove, then stood with hand outstretched before the tarp. "Hit it," he invited.

"I'll hurt you," Rick objected.

"No. My hand will give with the arrow. I want an idea of the impact."