St Thomas More High School - Utopian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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possibility of operating on a quiet basis just outside the harbor, out of West's range, was taken into account. Siki had had some experi- ence in pearl diving, and the promise of a 4072, cut in whatever we gathered made me decide to tag alone with Malone, come what may. For the next three days heavy rains pinned us below deck, and what was worse, curtained off our view of the yacht whose identity was our greatest concern. Even if West had not arrived from Honoipu Landing where his yacht had been based, we knew that probably he would show his meddlesome hand before long. A change in the wind about noontime drove the rain clouds off, giving us a welcome glimpse of the sun and an unwelcome glance at . . . yes, the William West. Malone recognized her in- stantly through his glasses. He had seen her pic- ture several times in a Sunday rotogravure. While Siki got busy mopping the deck, Malone and I went below to prepare lunch and to talk over our plans. As we lingered over our coffee, never so much as imagining that our presence in Luoano's waters was known to a soul, Siki stuck his smiling face through a porthole in the galley and cheer- fully announced: Meesta jeem! Nice big boat come along side. Look like come to pay visit maybel Startled, Malone and I leaped for the com- panionway and struggled to the deck. Already two of West's crew had reached across with grap- pling hooks and had secured our side firmly against their ship's. West, a small, pompous man in yachtsman's attire, bestowed a sinister sneer upon Malone and me. Behind him a yard or so stood a man I later learned was Dorne. on either side of the two were another pair of mean- looking characters. Each had his hand in his coat pocket, as though to impress upon us the fact that he was armed. West spoke. So, Mister Malone, we meet again! You might have known that my men in Hawaii would have spotted you the minute you arrived there. I, too, like to ily . . . privately! West paid little or no attention to me, nor can I say that I felt neglected. Malone listened to the big boss, but kept his eyes upon Dorne, hoping to read on the latter's countenance some sign of what to expect next. Dorne simply stared at the deck. West's voice softened a bit as he THE UTOPIAN . leaned forward on the rail. I'm not a hard man to get along with, Malone. For your old friend's sake, I've decided to give you a break. Come on over . . . alone. You should be very interested in the offer I have in mind. My partner studied the faces of the whole group before concluding that it was better to board the West than to have its crew board our smaller ship persuasively. He said something in a low voice which I could not catch, then swung over the side to the deck above. He ex- changed a few comments with the fat man and with Dorne, then beckoned me to join him. Un- willingly, I did so. The upshot of the conference was that we had been invited to work with West and his men, from their boat. I was to anchor the Blue Dolphin about 100 yards to the stern, with two of West's crew aboard tol stand watch each night. Siki was pressed into service to direct and to as- sist the diver West had engaged, and who wore full diving parphenalia in order to work the longer. Siki liked no part of working for a stranger, but at our bidding, made the most of his opportunities. Jim and I had little chance to plot escape, but we, likewise, made the most of our opportunities. So did West, to humiliate us. Time and again he would whip out of his pocket the little velvet bag in which he kept the haul. For all we knew, he might have shown us the same display each time, yet, Siki said that business was surprisingly good. On the moming of the eighth day, West was particularly arrogant. C'mon, Masters, lean on the paint brush, he said to me. And never mind eyein' that ship of yours every few minutes. I forgot to tell you, I have two men over there, so I wouldn't get any fancy ideas. Lucky for him that Jim came up behind me and grabbed my arm. The tenth day off Luoano brought us our first real opportunity to wriggle loose from the ten- tacles of the fat octopus, as I had come to think of him. Dorne and his boss had spent most of the afternoon over two bottles of native rum which one of the crew rowed out from the island that morning, along with several baskets of food, mostly fruit. Evidently the crew themselves had split a proportionate number of bottles, for it became apparent that their interest in our pres- ence had dwindled to a fraction. The cook was .63

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I've heard the name, but can't place him. Anyhow, it's O.K. with me, provided you assume full responsibility. What about his family? I have arranged everything. For a kid thir- teen, he's a fairly capable hand to have aboard, as you'l1 see. Malone stuck his forefingers into his mouth and gave two sharp blasts. From amidst the confusion along the waterfront appeared a bronzed youngster clad in a pair of khaki trou- sers the legs of which had been trimmed away at the knees. Under his arm was a small package, his wardrobe no doubt. Siki bounded up the dock with the grace of an antelope. Me go, too, Meesta Jeem? he hopefully inquired. Malone nodded, then introduced me to the new arrival. I made a last minute check of everything and prepared to hoist sail. By eleven o'clock we were under way, pointed south by southwest. Once around the cove, we began to heel to starboard. The mainsail flapped noisily as it began to suck in the breeze. I fancied that from the shore, my 29-foot Blue Dolphin, with her white sails gleam- ing in the sunlight, made an attractive picture. Malone and the boy went below to unpack and stow our gear. The following afternoon, thanks to a good run all the way, we caught our first glimpse of the Carolines. We counted upon reaching Luoano about nightfall, or with the aid of a full moon, shortly after. Malone had ruled out my suggestion to lay over until the following morning. If we can make it tonight, then to- nightl he grumbled impatiently. The last traces of twilight still lingered in the West when Malone, standing in the bow, pointed to a dark mass barely distinguishable on the pur- plish horizon. I glanced at my map and at the binnacle. It should be, I said, feeling very grateful for a successful trip, and not a little bit proud of my navigation. An hour or so later we were looking for a suitable location in the mouth of Luoano har- bor. Under foresail alone, we eased our way in. When Siki's sounding line told me what I wanted to know, I called to the boy to cast the anchor over the port bow. Malone, however, stopped him with an excited Wait a minute! Seizing his binoculars, Jim peered intently at the outlines of a sleek looking yacht moored about 100 yards to our lee side. We can't stay 62. right here, he added with an air of desperation, though I want to be close enough to read her name as soon as it's light. We glided quietly by, and hove to about a half mile further down the coast. As we sat smoking in our cabin that night, Jim Malone explained that the one name we wanted not to read the next morning was that of William West, owner of the ship which bore his name. If that's the West, he confided, things are going to take on an entirely dif- ferent complexion. When I rolled into my bunk that night, it was with little expectation of a sound night's sleep. It now appeared that Malone had been a lieutenant in the last war, had been commis- sioned to scour this area for possible naval bases, had made Luoano his personal headquarters after he had chanced to find a valuable pearl in the water here. He believed there were plenty more where that beauty had come from, and planned to return for them when possible. The one real drawback, he said, was that another lieutenant, John Dorne, originally a close friend of Malone, shared the secret, and the same in- tention. Later, after a quarrel, Dorne had gone his way, and, as Malone now knew, had spilled his plans to the boss of a gambling establishment where he had worked before the war. William West, the boss, told his friends he was off for a long, much-needed vacation, left the States, and joined up with Dome, both to finance the cost of the diving, and no doubt to see that Uncle Sam's Custom Men collected no taxes from their haul. Dome met me in a San Francisco restaurant one day a few months ago, Malone said at sup- per that night. Though we were not the friends we had been, he was at least decent enough to tell me of his intentions, and even invited me to tie in with him and West. I wanted no part of West and his mob, and told him so. Soon after, Dorne telephoned me one night to clear out of town if I wanted to stay alive. West was afraid I might inform the authorities about his in- tended vacation in the Pacific. I cleared out all right! I headed for Hawaii by Clipper . . . and here I am. Yes, I rolled into my bunk that night with a worried mind. There hadl seemed little else to do but follow with what Malone had started. The . THE U TOPIAN

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overheard telling the mate that the chief figgers 'es got close to 330,000 worth of the purty pills. Perhaps there was reason to celebrate. Malone expected the party to stretch into the night. We prayed that the rum would outlast our hosts. By feigning greater friendliness we hoped to conceal our eagerness to escape. That blessing depended largely upon our getting the two revolvers stowed in my locker on the Blue Dolphin. Admittedly, to swim over in the dark, board her unnoticed, and get back alive, was a risk that neither Malone nor I relished. We flipped a coin. I lost. Apart from Siki, nobody on board ate much that night. A liquid diet was the thing. At nine o'clock we met on deck-that is, Malone and I. Siki was to help the cook clean up, then induce him to have a drink with the boys. A single light shone from my cabin on the Blue Dolphin. Her bow and stern lamps flick- ered faintly and her starboard light traced a streak of red across the placid surface. Good luck, Matty! whispered jim as I lowered myself into the water as quietly as possible. In my belt I carried a butcher knife stolen from the galley. Scared as I was, I actually enjoyed the swim in the tropical waters. The whole boat had seemed to reek with rum and tobacco. Almost too soon I reached hold of the Dol- phinis anchor chain, shinnied half-way up, and pulled myself gently over the taff rail. I waited for the water to drain off me a bit so that its dripping might not be heard below. Up near the reefed jib, lying on his back with one leg crossed over the other, was West's first man. I hoped that he was asleep. If he wasn'tg he at least failed to detect my arrival. Without further de- lay I tip-toed in my bare feet down the passage- way and paused outside my cabin door. Yellow light leaked from beneath it. The key hole re- vealed nothing enlightening about the occupant's whereabouts. Maybe I could rush him. I tried the doorg it was locked. The lock clicked as I sought to release the knob. Who's there? That you, Al? a raspy voice grunted. Uh-huh! I managed to reply. Feet shuffled toward the door . . . closer . . . until at the instant the handle turned suliiciently, I hurled my weight against the door. As it flew open, I leaped forward and smashed my fist into a bearded chin. The man, about 50 years of age, 64. and of slight build, fell back and landed flatly. There would be no trouble from him for awhile. Then, the sound of feet hurrying overhead con- firmed my fears. Quickly I locked the cabin door, seized a chair and swung it at the wooden locker door. The thin paneling gave way enough to admit my hand. I reached in and grabbed the cold, steel barrel of a Colt .45 automatic. Scarcely had I extracted the second gun when the cabin door thundered open again. West's stooge rushed for me but stopped short when I swung around and faced him with a most convincing gesture. He looked for a moment to see whether his sprawled companion had been slain. Get in there, you! I scowled at him, motioning to- ward the closet. He obeyed promptly. I kicked the door shut and snapped the bolt across, then turned my attention to the prostrate form. Having removed the man's belt, I tied his hands, stuffed a handkerchief into his half-open mouth, tucked the -guns securely into my trouser pockets, and headed for the deck, and the hundred yards of water back to the William West. Though no one was visible there, I was satisfied. My absence had not been noted. Malone reached a welcome hand over the side, extricated one of the guns from my pocket, and without commenting, beckoned me to follow him down the deck. Dripping wet and panting from lack of breath, I nevertheless hurried after him. Time was precious. Together we edged into the forward compartment where Malone already had the radio transmitter lit up. As planned, he was trying to reach the U.S. Coast Guard Station maintained at Luoano for weather observation and certain types of intelligence work. Malone felt sure that the word smugglers would bring a well-staffed patrol boat to our aid. To guaran- tee the success of his efforts he had already crippled the West's Diesel engine. lflfhile jim liddled with the dials, I thought of something else . . . the pearls! More than likely they were still in West's pocket: he seldom hid them away. I'll be back in a moment, I told Malone. Deep snores from West's cabin assured me that I would encounter little resistance from him. He hadn't even locked the door. A quick search in the darkness proved unavailing. A gun jammed very persuasively into the small of his back did the trick. Drunk as he was, he per- QContinued on Page 84D . THE UTOPIAN