West from Singapore (Ss) (1987) Read Free Page A

match and then paused in indecision. Then he crawled over the coils of line and found the door into number five hatch. He grinned. Luckily, he knew every inch of the Natuna.
    He hadn't commanded her for a year for nothing, and he liked to know a ship. He knew her better now than the man who built her. She'd changed a lot in twenty years, and there had been repairs made and some changes.
    The door was stiff, but he opened it and crawled into the hold, carefully closing the door after him. He was on his hands and knees on a wooden case.
    He struck a match, shielding it with his hands despite the knowledge that the hold was sealed tight and the hatch battened down and ready for the sea. The case was marked in large black letters, CANNED GOODS. Returning to the rope locker, Jim picked up a marlinespike and returned to the hold. Working carefully, he forced open the wooden case. Striking another match, he leaned over.
    Then he sat back on his heels, smiling. The case was filled with automatic rifles.
    "Well, well, Senor Lucieno!" he muttered to himself. "Just as I suspected. If there's dirty work, you'll be in on it." Thoughtfully, he considered the open case. The match had gone out, but he could remember those cool barrels, the magazines. He rubbed his jaw.
    "Contraband," he said. "And I'm broke. What was it Hadji Ali used to say? `Lie to a liar, for lies are his coin; steal from a thief, for that is easy; lay a trap for the trickster, and catch him at the first attempt; but beware of an honest man.'
    Taking one of the rifles from the case he began to assemble it in the dark.
    "Well, Petey, old darling, you're a liar, a thief, and a trickster, and contraband is fair game for anyone-so here's where I move in."
    Fastening the case shut, he carried the automatic rifle with him. Then he descended into the lower hold, and found a place near the shaft-alley housing where there was a space in the cargo. He had known it was there. Stowing cargo in that spot always necessitated it because of the ship's structure. There was also a small steel door into the shaft alley. So far as he knew it had not been used since he had ordered it cut there while making repairs. Opening another case he got some excelsior and made himself comfortable. Then, crawling back into the 'tween decks, he felt his way over the cases until he was immediately under the hatch.
    Listening, he heard no feet on the deck, so he opened a case. As he had suspected, this was really canned goods. He tried several cases, and with his coat for a sack, carried an armful back down to his hideout.
    "If you're going to stow away, Jim boy," he told himself, "by all means pick a ship you know, and one carrying food." Opening a can of pineapple he ate, speculating on the future. The Natuna was bound for Port Moresby. That would mean something like ten or twelve days. It might be more, depending on the weather. The Natuna was a temperamental old Barnacle Bill of a ship. She might stagger along at twelve knots, and she might limp at eight or nine. It was hot, too damned hot, but during at least part of the day he could stay in the 'tween decks under a ventilator.
    Besides, there wasn't a chance of his being here ten days. Pete Lucieno wasn't one to spend a dime or a guilder he could save, and that would mean he wouldn't take this cargo a bit farther than he could help. If he was bound for Port Moresby, that meant he was discharging the contraband somewhere this side of there, and if he was going that far, it meant his point of discharge wouldn't be very much this side.
    Which meant that he was heading somewhere along the New Guinea coast, and probably the mouth of the Fly. There were islands there and easy access to the interior.
    Obviously, whoever planned to use these rifles and the other munitions, intended to distribute them among the natives and then stir up trouble. By raiding Port Moresby, friction could be created and the entire Indies might be set aflame. Then it would require