Chapter 13 To the Victor

THE PORTUGUESE WANTED TO THROW DAISY'S body overboard to the sharks, but I persuaded him to let me take it ashore and give it as decent a burial as conditions permitted. He thought I was a fool and said so, but he let me have some men to help me and a blanket to wrap her in.

It was a pathetic burial, but only I knew how pathetic. I am not a soft man, but the tears came to my eyes as we laid that pitiful little form in its shallow grave and covered it forever from the sight of man.

As we pulled back to the schooner I was thinking of the sorry tricks that life had played on me. If, years ago, I had known that Daisy loved me how different everything might have been for both of us. We might have gone happily on together, loving, loved, and respected, environment saving us from the curse of heredity. Yet I wondered. Perhaps the Juke and the Lafitte that coursed through our veins would have dragged us down sooner or later.

I thought of the only two loves my life had known: the one that had come to this that I had just buried and the other that had betrayed me while our arms were about one another in love. My thoughts were bitter thoughts, arousing in my breast a longing for revenge.

I determined to kill the Portuguese. He had possessed the woman I had loved, the woman who had loved me. I would kill him, but not until he had served my purpose in consummating another vengeance. That would be on La Diablesa. It would have to be indirect. I couldn't bring myself to kill her, of course; but I could strike at her through another-I could kill the Vulture. If he were dead, she would have no protector.

For a long time I had wished to kill him-for several reasons. One was jealousy. Perhaps that was the strongest. Another was greed. Yes, I have an aggregation of lovely characteristics. I coveted his ship and the leadership of his band of cutthroats. The genes of old Jean Latitte, the French Corsair of the Gulf of Mexico, were running true to form.

And to achieve my gentle destiny, if it were destiny, I needed the Portuguese. Therefore I must, for the time, forego the pleasure of killing him. It never once occurred to me that I might fail in these ventures and be killed myself. Great accomplishments are not fostered by doubts.

Large in my mind loomed the memory of La Diablesa. It dwarfed that of Daisy Juke. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to reproach her for her treachery. I wanted to witness her rage and consternation when I killed the Vulture.

How she had fooled me! Making me think that she hated him, accepting my love, and then striking me down at his feet to be killed. How I would revel in my vengeance! But would I? Try to hate her as I would, I still knew that I loved her. Yet my determination did not waver. No matter what the cost, I would carry out my plan.

When I boarded the schooner, I sought the Portuguese. He was in a terrible humor. The suicide of the Queen of Diamonds had robbed him of a plaything. His sorrow was not that of the lover. There was nothing fine or decent about it. It was the rage of a beast that had been deprived of something it desired and with no one directly responsible upon whom it could vent its spleen and take its revenge.

I entered his cabin, therefore, at a bad moment. He was drinking brandy with Pedro and his second mate, a huge Negro called Nigger Joe. The three eyed me venomously. Almost immediately the Portuguese started accusing me of being responsible for his woman's death. He said that after I had gone ashore to bury her, Nigger Joe had told him that he had seen me arguing with her on deck just a few minutes before she went below and shot herself.

"Don't be a fool," I told him. "What could I have said to her that might have made her kill herself? As a matter of fact I kept her from killing herself when I came on deck. She was about to throw herself overboard to the sharks. "

The Portuguese spat on the floor. "You expect me to believe that?" he demanded. "You done something to her. She wasn't the same after you come into the cabin last night. Lil noticed it. She was a changed woman. I don't know what I ever let you live for, but you ain't goin' to live no longer." He drew his pistol. I was unarmed. It looked like the end, but I just stood there and laughed at him-a dirty sneering kind of laugh. It got his goat. "What are you laughin' at?" he bellowed.

"You...."

That made him pretty mad. He was shaking, he was so angry. "So you're laughin' at me! And what's so damned funny about me?"

"You haven't any sense. If you had, you wouldn't be sittin' down here with a couple of nitwits swilling brandy while the Vulture, probably shorthanded from last night's battle, is heading for his home port just a few hours ahead of you. Why don't you get busy and get after him instead of threatening to kill the only intelligent man you got aboard?"

The big brute just sat there and stared at me. He didn't seem to be able to comprehend that anyone had dared speak to him as I had. I saw that I had gained a little advantage. Like most of his kind, the fellow was a coward. His blatant, bullying manner was the defense mechanism with which he sought to hide it. It seemed within the range of possibilities that I might outbluff him. I tried it.

"Put down that gun," I said, "and listen to me." He lowered the muzzle of his weapon until it rested on the table. "I've got it in for the Vulture," I continued. "He stole my girl and then tried to kill me. If you weren't a lot of drunken, yellow bums I could show you how you could take his island and his ship. He's got enough swag on that island to buy half of Lisbon, and you sit here and guzzle brandy because you haven't the brains or the guts to go and take it. You make me sick-the whole dirty bunch of you."

Pedro leaped from his chair and came for me, a wicked-looking knife in his hand. "I'm a dirty bum, am I? I ain't got no guts, ain't I?"

We're taught jujitsu by experts on the police forces of California. That training had saved my life before. It saved it then. I caught the wrist of his knife hand, swung quickly around, and threw him over my head. I threw him hard, too. He lit in a crumpled heap against the wall of the cabin, his knife falling to the floor. I picked it up and tossed it onto the table in front of the Portuguese.

"You've got a new first mate," I told him. "That is you have if you've got any brains at all. What do you say? We can put out after the Vulture with the tide."

The Portuguese rose and stepped over to the unconscious form of Pedro. Stooping, he removed the fellow's two pistols; then he straightened up and handed them to me.

"You're goin' to need 'em," he said, "if you're goin' to be first mate of this craft long. You'd better take the knife, too."

"When do we sail?"

"With the tide."

Well, we sailed. That was some trip. The men didn't take to me. God! but they were a hard lot-foulest scum of the foulest waterfronts. Many of them were absolutely fearless, but they'd rather stab a man in the back than the front any time-it must have been just the ethics of their profession. They resented the fact that I was a stranger, that I kept myself clean, and that I insisted that the ship be kept clean. When I had come aboard it had been the filthiest thing I'd ever seen afloat. It had been so filled with various assorted stinks that one could almost have carved them with a knife. Bilge water and garlic predominated. I cleaned it up. But I had to kill one man and cripple two others in the process. After that my popularity increased ....

The Portuguese, having at least a rudimentary sense of humor, had put Pedro, now a common sailor, in Nigger Joe's watch. I didn't appreciate the Machiavellian touch in this assignment until I learned from a member of the crew that Pedro and Nigger Joe were mortal enemies, the former having taken advantage of his position as first mate to delegate all the onerous and unpleasant duties to his inferior; then they had both aspired to Lil. She had belonged to Nigger Joe first, but Pedro had taken her away. Notwithstanding the fact that neither now commanded her charms-the Portuguese having appropriated her-their hatred for one another still persisted.

It is noticeable how prevalent are hatreds among people of the moral and mental types to which these men belonged. What passes for friendship among them is based solely upon mercenary considerations. They mistook lust for love. Hatred is the only genuine sentiment they may boast. Perhaps a careful analysis would reveal for the remainder of mankind a similar picture painted in less vivid colors upon a background of hypocrisy and moral cowardice.

Yes I was in nice company-sweet little playmates, indeed, were these, my fellow pirates. But was I any better? Honest self-analysis is fatal. The test of true friendship is the secret sacrifice that one would make for a friend, where no reciprocation nor any applause were possible. If you think you really love a woman, ask yourself if you would respect and admire her and wish to spend the rest of your life with her if she were a man, forsaking all others. And hatred? I was full of it. I hated them all: the Portuguese, Pedro, Nigger Joe, Ludang, the Vulture, La Diablesa. Yes, I hated even La Diablesa. But then, of course, she had wronged me foully-far more than any of the others had wronged me.

These pleasant thoughts were running through my mind one night as I stood on deck while the ship, rising and falling to long swells, cut silently through the black sea beneath an overcast sky, her course set for the Vulture's nameless island.

I was in the shadow of the deckhouse. I could see Pedro forward, his squat bulk dimly outlined in the faint light of a ship's lantern. He was leaning over the rail, staring idly down upon the black swells, rising, falling. They hold a fascination, especially at night; it is almost hypnotic in its effects. Perhaps that is why Pedro did not hear the approach of a man behind him.

It was Nigger Joe. From the manner in which he was sneaking up behind his arch enemy I surmised that his designs were evil-perhaps lethal. I indulged in a mental shrug. What interest had I in the welfare of either of these cutthroats? If one killed the other, the world would be better off by that much, and it made little difference to the world or me which one were killed.

I saw that Nigger Joe had his knife out. He was going to stab Pedro in the back. Now there are some acts that are peculiarly repulsive. Stabbing a man in the back is one of these. It irritates me immeasurably. Even though the man to be stabbed were the utterest scum and deserved death, I felt that I should do something about it.

Almost simultaneously with this Christian urge three things happened very suddenly. Pedro must have heard or felt the presence of the man behind him, for he wheeled suddenly. Nigger Joe's knife flashed upward. I fired....

With a howl of pain and rage the black leaped back, his knife clattering to the deck. Grasping his shattered right hand in his left, Nigger Joe turned and fled. Pedro took a shot at him and missed; then he turned toward me. He couldn't see who I was until I came within the radius of the dim light. When he recognized me he was far more surprised than he had been when he had seen Nigger Joe about to attempt his life. He just stood there staring at me in a dumb sort of way.

I heard men running. Two shots in the dead of night aboard a craft like ours might mean almost anything. The Portuguese barged into view. Pedro was still staring at me uncomprehendingly. "That was a fine shot," he said. Then the Portuguese confronted us.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded.

Pedro told him.

"Oh," said the Portuguese, "is that all?" He seemed much relieved. Like prosperity in civilization, mutiny on a craft such as ours is always just around the corner. "Where's Nigger Joe? Did you kill him?"

"No; I didn't try to."

"Where'd you get him?"

"In the right hand. I don't know how bad."

"It was a fine shot," said Pedro.

"He won't be no good now for a long time," mused the Portuguese.

"He never was," I said. "Pedro should be second mate."

So Pedro became second mate of the Coruna. His emotions must have been mixed. He had lost his job as first mate because of me, and I had supplanted him. Now I had saved his life and had him appointed second mate. But I didn't expect any gratitude. My sole reason for wanting him as second mate was that I could watch him better.

In due time we raised the Vulture's island, and after dark we sneaked around to windward of it. The harbor is on the lee side of the island during the prevailing winds. No one ever goes to the opposite coast. It is rocky and barren. Cliffs run right to the sea. There is no beach nor any landing place, or at least there was not supposed to be. But I had found one. It was after I had succeeded in getting the Vulture to try out my pirate breeding plan. We had extended the clearing and put in more crops. During this work I had discovered what appeared to be the remains of a very old trail. Although it was overgrown it was still plain. It led away from the clearing toward the opposite side of the island. It aroused my curiosity, so I followed it. I suppose that was the police instinct in me.

It cut through a short distance of jungle and then out into the barren lands. Even there it was plain, though, and I followed it to the coast. It led me to the summit of the cliffs above a tiny cove, and when I looked over I saw that a trail had been cut down to a narrow strip of beach. I hadn't gone down; my curiosity had been satisfied. I hadn't the slightest idea that I should ever make any use of my knowledge of this backdoor entrance to the Vulture's stronghold, but I didn't tell him nor anyone else of my discovery. I was sure that he knew nothing of it.

We stood off the windward coast until dawn; then we crept in carefully, looking for the cove. It wasn't easy to find, but at last I located it. We dropped anchor and lowered the boats.

The Portuguese left a few men, whom he thought he could trust, to guard the Coruna. The rest of us, about fifty strong, pulled for the cove. We were a sweet company. Most of us were naked above the waist. To protect our heads from the tropic sun we wore colored handkerchiefs. Many had brilliant sashes wound around their middles. The majority sported earrings, and there were several with nose-rings.

The Portuguese had issued a big tumbler of rum to each of the crew before we left the ship, and had further aroused them by tales of the rich loot we'd divide.

From the top of the cliff I led the way along the trail toward the Vulture's nest. The Portuguese had delegated the command to me because I knew the lay of the land, and the men had instructions to take their orders from me. Single file we wound through the strip of jungle that separated the barren land from the clearing. At the trail's end I raised my hand as a signal for those behind me to halt, and the signal was passed on down the line.

Before me I could see a number of men and women working among the crops. They were virtually slaves. And while they owed their slavery to me, they also owed me their lives. Had it not been for me the Vulture would have killed them-at least the men. The women would have been killed eventually. I had never treated them harshly, and I knew that while they could have no love for me they trusted me more and hated me less than any other of their captors.

Telling the Portuguese, who was directly behind me, to keep the men quiet, I stepped out into the clearing. Those nearest me recognized me instantly, and I saw surprise reflected in their expressions. I moved toward them and called them together, so that presently they were gathered around me. I asked them if the Vulture had returned, and they said he had. The thing that had surprised them was that I had come from the jungle. They thought that I was still with the Vulture, and couldn't understand how I had gotten past them and into the jungle without their having seen me.

I explained that the Vulture had tried to kill me but that I had escaped and returned with a force of men large enough to capture the island. I told them that if they would join me we could take the place easily and that I would see that they were treated right in return for their support. What I really wished of them was that they wouldn't take sides against us; for as far as their active assistance was concerned they wouldn't be of much value to me, as they were not armed and very few of them impressed me as being fighting men.

They were so sore at the Vulture that they quickly promised to do anything I asked of them; so now, assured that no alarm would be raised by these people, I summoned the remainder of my choice aggregation from the jungle and started off toward the compound and the men's quarters, neither of which was visible from this field.

I had carefully explained the lay of the land to both the Portuguese and Pedro. When we reached a point beyond which we could not hope to advance without detection, I gave the prearranged signal and we all started at a run for our objectives. The Portuguese, with the majority of the men, went for the barracks. I led a half-dozen men, among whom was Pedro, toward the compound, where I expected to find the Vulture alive, if possible. They also had orders to harm no women or the Chinese cook, Kao.

I went directly to the Vulture's room. He was not there. Then I ran down the veranda to La Diablesa's quarters. Somehow my heart beat very fast at the prospect of seeing her again, but I kept telling myself that I hated her.

I entered unceremoniously and found her seated at her dressing table. She turned, and when she recognized me she stood up and faced me. Her face went very white, and she swayed a little as though she were about to fall. "John!" she cried. "He told me that you were dead."

"It's not your fault that I'm not, you damned snake. I ought to kill you. "

Her eyes went wide, and then she drew herself up very straight. "Get out of here!" she said.

"Where is the Vulture?"

She shook her head. "Get out of here!"

"I'll see to you after I've attended to him. Stay in your room. I have fifty men here with me. They'd as lief slit your throat as not." Then I turned and went out on the veranda and started back toward the Vulture's room. As I passed a doorway I was struck a heavy blow on the side of the head. It didn't knock me out completely, just dazed me for a few seconds, but in that time I was disarmed. I recall that I could hear the shouts and cries and curses of men, mingled with the reports of firearms and knew that the fight was on at the barracks. Then I felt a gun poked into my ribs and heard the cold voice of the Vulture in my ear. "Come with me to La Diablesa's room, my dear friend. We three have matters to discuss."

"It will be a pleasure."

"It will be a very great pleasure-for me," he assured me.

Some of my men appeared on the veranda. He told them that if they came nearer he would kill me, and then he whispered to me to send them away. If I didn't, he would shoot me where I stood. I knew that he would, and so I told them to go to the barracks and get into the fight there.

He pushed me ahead of him into the presence of La Diablesa. "I have brought your lover to you," he said in a nasty tone. She said nothing. "I could not have hoped for anything so good as this. I am going to cut out his heart right here in front of you, the-" He applied to me the vilest epithet that he could lay his tongue to. "First he stole you. Then he deserted to the Portuguese and betrayed my plans. Now he comes to kill me. The Vulture does not die so easily. But your lover shall die, and his men shall all be killed. You can hear my brave lads killing them now. I want him to know that he has failed-failed in everything. Watch now, La Diablesa. "

He stepped behind me and secured my wrists; then he turned me around so that my left side was toward La Diablesa. "So that you can see better, my dear," he said. He drew his knife. "You shall see the heart that has beaten in rhythm to your love, La Diablesa. He raised his blade. Death seemed very near, but that did not seem to concern me so much as the fact that these two would gloat over my failure. I deliberately kept my eyes averted from La Diablesa. I wanted to look at her, but I would not.

It seemed to me that the Vulture took a very long time in carrying out his design. Perhaps he hoped to force some sign of fear from me that would add to his enjoyment of the situation, but I gave none. I just stood there, waiting. I was really surprised myself that I should be so unconcerned about death. It was not through courage. It was more because of a realization that for long I had expected a violent death and the knowledge that my life was worthless-that no one would mourn me and that the world would be better off without me.

There was a sharp report, and the Vulture lunged forward upon me almost throwing me to the floor; then he slumped in a shrunken heap at my feet. I looked at La Diablesa. She stood there wide-eyed, a smoking revolver clutched in her right hand. She was very white, and she swayed upon her feet. I thought she was going to fall, so I stepped forward to support her, forgetting that my hands were bound behind me. At that, she wheeled and leveled the revolver at me.

"Get out of here!" she ordered. "I was going to kill you, too; but I can't. Get out!"

"I'll be rather helpless out there with my hands tied behind me."

She picked up the Vulture's knife and came and cut my bonds. When I stepped into the compound I realized that the fight was still on at the barracks. I could hear the shots and the raucous cries of the combatants. My place was there; so I hurried out into the compound in time to see the remnants of the Vulture's company backing away, exchanging shots with some of the Portuguese's men who were pressing forward. Ludang was among the former. As he came through the gateway, he turned to run for one of the rooms, possibly to search for the Vulture. As he turned, he saw me. He paused in surprise; then all his pent hatred of me was reflected in his snarling face as he raised his revolver to shoot me down. I beat him to it, and he dropped in his tracks, clutching at his breast.

We finished the other men in short order. The fight was over. We had taken the stronghold of the Vulture! The Portuguese was mad with elation. He ordered us to kill every man on the island. I called his attention to the fact that I had promised protection to the prisoners.

"I'm giving orders here," he bellowed.

"Then you'd better give orders to leave those men alone-and the women, too. I'll shoot any man that lays a hand on one of them."

I turned my back on them then and went to look for Kao. I wanted to be sure they didn't kill him. He was my best friend there; and, besides, he was a good cook.

It's difficult to understand how yellow bullies like the Portuguese are. Even with my back turned toward him he was afraid to shoot me, as I had guessed he would be.

I found Kao hiding in his room behind the kitchen. To say he was relieved when he saw me would be putting it far too mildly. He almost wept for joy and relief. I asked him to get me something to eat, and I sat on a corner of the kitchen table and talked with him while he was preparing it.

"You see La Diablesa yet?" he asked. "I betee you she glad to see you."

"I saw her, and I hope to God it's the last time."

"Walla you meany?" demanded Kao.

I told him how she had double-crossed me and nearly gotten me killed by the Vulture just before we sailed for Singapore.

"You damn fool," said Kao. "She save your life." Then he told me that which filled me with shame and remorse.

La Diablesa had seen the Vulture approaching and had known that it would be impossible for us to break away before he saw us. She knew him better than any other-knew his insane jealousy. If he had suspected that she was willingly accepting my caresses he would have killed us both. That I might seek to win her was no offense in the eyes of the Vulture-provided I did not succeed. If La Diablesa repulsed me, why that was a feather in the Vulture's cap-it puffed his ego. She had thought and acted very quickly, and she had saved our lives.

I determined to see her at once and ask her forgiveness for the brutal words I had spoken, and with this intention in mind I hurried to her quarters. Before I reached them I heard her voice raised in protest, and when I burst into the room I saw Pedro and the Portuguese there. Pedro was sitting astride a chair, laughing. The Portuguese was holding La Diablesa with his great, dirty paws and trying to drag her lips to his. I crossed the room in two strides, seized the Portuguese by his long, greasy hair and dragged him away. Then I wheeled him about and struck him a blow in the face that sent him reeling into a corner.

Without paying any more attention to the two men, I took La Diablesa's hand. She tried to draw away, but I held her. "You must listen to me, La Diablesa. I have come to apologize. I didn't know the truth until Kao just told me. I really thought that you had double-crossed me."

"That is why I hate you-that you could believe such a thing of me."

"Please forgive me. My only excuse is that I loved you so much I was crazy with jealousy."

Her eyes suddenly went wide in fright as she looked across my shoulder. Then she screamed, and merged with her scream was the sharp staccato of a shot.

As I wheeled and drew, I swung La Diablesa behind me, but there was no need for any precaution. The Portuguese lay sprawled face down on the floor. Pedro still sat in his chair, his revolver in his hand.

"He was goin' to shoot you, Chief. I been goin' to kill the bastard for a long time. Now we got a damn good chief-not a yellow coward. The other men, they all be glad."

"You go tell 'em, Pedro." I was mighty glad then that I had saved Pedro's life that time.

As he left the room I turned back to La Diablesa. "I've got the island, the loot, and two ships," I said. "All else I need in the world is you. Will you come back to me?"

She came and put her arms around my neck. "I have never been away, Johnny. I tried to be, but I couldn't."

That was two years ago. La Diablesa and I live in Paris now-quiet and respectable married folk-but we are not known as La Diablesa and John Lafitte. Only our cook, Kao, knows; and he would die before he would tell.

If Pedro hasn't had his throat slit, he is doubtless the scourge of the South Seas, with his two ships, his nameless island, and his sweet company of cutthroats.