Part 13 (1/2)
The little charm boy's heart beat violently, but his face never changed expression. Juramentado! So some poor misguided fanatic had been persuaded to a.s.sa.s.sinate the governor. He and Kali must prevent the outrage, for had they not sworn allegiance to this new chief? Piang feared that Sicto suspected the words had been overheard, so he carefully avoided Kali and strolled on among the people. A glance at his chief had warned Kali that trouble was in the air.
Sicto, Alverez, and Vincente moved off toward the dock.
”Sicto, did Piang hear what I said?” asked Alverez.
”Does the jungle hear the trumpeting of the elephant?” angrily retorted Sicto.
”He hasn't spoken to any one yet,” said Vincente, significantly. ”We had better get rid of him before--”
A whispered conversation followed, and Alverez finally exclaimed:
”I'll do it! Wait here. Watch Piang.” Then he hurried off.
Without approaching Kali, or divulging the secret to any one, Piang followed the men to the dock, and Sicto laughed softly as he watched the unsuspecting boy walk into the trap. The little gunboat _Sabah_ was bobbing at her moorings, and Piang joined the crowd that was gazing in wonder at the strange craft. A shrill whistle, signifying the _Sabah's_ intention of immediate departure, so terrified the Moros that some took to their heels while others sought the safety of tall lamp-posts. Piang was laughing merrily when he was startled by a noise, and turning, he saw Alverez and a soldier running toward him.
Instantly everything was confusion, and Piang realized that he was the center of the excitement.
”Are you Piang?” asked the soldier, cautiously approaching him.
”Sure, me Piang.”
”Hike! Beat it!” said the man, pointing to the _Sabah_.
What did he mean? Was Piang to be allowed to go aboard the boat?
The soldier made it very plain, finally, that such was the case, but Piang insisted that he could not depart on a pleasure ride without getting his chief's permission.
”_Sigi_, beat it, I tell you, _p.r.o.nto_!” said the soldier impatiently, emphasizing the command with a push. Almost before Piang realized it, he found himself on the gunboat, which was slowly moving out toward the channel. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper which the soldier had gingerly thrust into it.
”Here's your pa.s.sport, kid,” he had said with a grin. Piang carefully unrolled the paper and stared at the queer American characters. A sailor offered to translate it for him, but when he glanced over the paper, he uttered a low whistle.
”Say, you go away back and sit down! Don't you come near me or any one else, sabe?”
Piang recoiled before the look of disgust on the sailor's face. What was the matter with every one? Why were they all afraid to come near him, and where were they taking him? He summoned up enough courage to ask who had written the letter, and when he was told that it was signed by Governor Findy, he felt rea.s.sured. Surely if the good governor was sending him somewhere, it would be all right. Disconsolately, Piang crouched in a corner, watching sharks and dolphins sporting in the foaming wake. He wondered how long the boat was going to be out, if it would return in time for him to save the governor. When he started toward a group of men to ask for information he was met with a shout.
”Get out of here, you!” they yelled, and poor Piang hurriedly retreated to the stern. Much talk of the coming baile seemed to indicate that the sailors expected to return before evening, so Piang patiently squatted on a coil of rope, wondering when the mysteries of his errand would be revealed to him.
The ocean is dotted with many lovely islands off Zamboanga. Somber, lowering Basilan guards its secrets to this day; Sacol, home of Dato Mandi, invites and then repels the intruder; tiny clumps of vivid green rise out of the channel in the most unexpected places, as if timidly wis.h.i.+ng to investigate before adding their emerald mite to crown the Celebes. The island toward which the _Sabah_ was making her way seemed blacker and denser than its more frivolous neighbors. Two staccato whistles warned the islanders of the _Sabah's_ approach, and the beach was soon the scene of lively commotion. The engines stopped, and the gunboat slid along easily. A boat was lowered. The sailors were speaking in low voices; one looked toward Piang and shook his head sadly.
”My task is not to be an easy one,” thought the charm boy, but his head went up proudly. These sailor men should see how a brave Moro executed the commands of his superiors.
”Come on, kid,” called a jacky, and just as Piang stepped over the side a kindly sailor slipped a quarter in his hand. It was evidently a gift, and the boy grinned appreciatively.
”Wastin' your coin, man,” remarked another sailor with a harsh laugh. ”He's not likely to need _dinero_ (a silver coin) soon.” Piang wondered again at the pitying looks that were cast at him, but he only held his head higher and climbed into the boat. The men seemed in a great hurry; they landed far up the beach, and bags and provisions were hastily dumped on the sand.
”Here you are, young 'un,” said a sailor, and Piang looked up eagerly.
”Me, here?”
”Yep, this is your place,” replied the man, looking away quickly from the soft brown eyes.