"We're in luck, sir," Fox said after awhile. "My friend Pa' Mahmud is still rajah here."
"Is he in one of the boats?"
"Oh, no, sir. He's waiting in his palace for us."
"Big man," Peary said sarcastically.
Scott gestured to him to be silent. "We'll go. I'm ready to commence trading now."
"Another thing," Fox continued. "We're the first American ship to put in here since just before the war. Pa' Mahmud should be up to his ears in pepper berries."
"And anxious to make us a good price," Scott added.
"Exactly, sir."
"Good. We'll take an armed boat crew and shove off. But first, see that fellow over there—the one with all the green vegetables and fresh fruits? Strike a bargain with him. We need fresh meat, too."
"Best thing to do about the meat is to buy a young buffalo and slaughter it ourselves, sir. That way we'll know it's fresh. We ought to be able to get some chickens, too."
"I'll leave all that to you. Get the boat crew and let's lower away.... And you, Mr. Peary, keep a sharp watch."
As the boat pulled away, Scott looked back. Dorcas was leaning on the rail. Catching his eye, she lifted her hand gracefully.
" Buena suerte!" she called. "Good luck!"
12
SCOTT had difficulty controlling the excitement welling up in him as the boat neared the land. He had been on trading ventures before, but always Captain Rousseau had done the bargaining and made the decisions. Moreover, he never had landed anywhere appearing as uncivilized as Stallapoo. Acquaintances of his had visited such places, according to their tales, but he himself always had put in at populous port cities of Europe or America.
"You'll find Pa' Mahmud is a pretty shrewd fellow," Fox said suddenly. "At first, he'll probably pretend that pepper has been hard to come by and that he's not anxious to trade.'
"What sort of fellow is he?"
"Shrewd, like I said, and, like all Malays, touchy. Actually he is a pretty big man, as I said before. I guess he has two hundred fighting men, and I know for a fact that he's done his share of fighting."
"With whites or other natives?"
"Other natives. He's always gotten along with the Salem people. I've always made out fine with him. See that big building yonder . . . the big hut? That's his palace."
Scott saw the hut, which was distinguished from others principally by its size. He noted also that the town was laid out in crooked streets, which were shaded by trees, including coconut palms.
"A little farther inland is the fort," Fox went on.
"Fort?"
Fox nodded. "Every ruler of any consequence has his fort. Pa' Mahmud's used to mount eight or ten cannon."
Scott hesitated, then spoke. "You and I will go to the palace. The boat crew will remain with the boat."
Fox was approving. "Good idea, sir. You can't appear timid in dealing with these people. The trick is to be polite enough to keep from walking on their toes, but not so polite that you seem to be afraid. Do you follow me, sir?"
"Aye," Scott said gratefully. "I'll make out . . . with your help as interpreter."
The boat's keel grated on sand, and natives ran out into the surf to haul the craft partly out of the water. Scott jumped onto sea-packed sand, outwardly ignoring the curious throng of both sexes and all ages. A smooth-faced, pigtailed fellow, obviously a Chinese, spoke to him.
"Welcome, 'Melican!" he said smiling broadly and bowing. "Welcome!"
Fox came up alongside him, "There are a good many Chinamen on the coast. Sometimes they make good middlemen."
Scott turned to the coxwain of the boat crew. "Stand by! Watch yourselves and the boat. And no drinking."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Scott and Fox set out for the palace, walking briskly in the debilitating heat of early afternoon. Sweat drenched their clothing before they had covered a hundred yards. Children trotted at their heels. From every hut eyes watched them openly.
Guards with muskets stood at the main entrance to the palace which, on closer inspection, appeared quite solidly built, for all that the roof was of palm-leaf thatching. Fox spoke to them respectfully, and one turned and went inside. A few minutes later he returned and beckoned them inside. Scott was delighted to find the place comparatively cool.
Wearing a yellow sarong and a white jacket with gold buttons, Pa' Mahmud sat in a great chair which served as a throne. He was a slender, muscular man of indeterminate age, with quick brown eyes and a perpetual petulant frown. He did not rise when Fox greeted him. However, he did appear more friendly after the first few words, and presently he deigned to speak.
Fox smiled. "He remembers me, sir. Favorably, too. I told him you were a greater man than the other captains who've been here." He paused, then added in a lower voice, "He understands and speaks a little English."
"Good. Now let's get down to business."
This time Fox and the rajah talked at some length before the former again addressed Scott. "He says he has a great quantity of fine pepper, perhaps enough to fill the hold of the Caroline, but he isn't sure he wants to sell now. He figures other ships will be here soon."
"No doubt . . . and all the more reason for us to reach a quick agreement. Well weigh anchor today if he doesn't want to sell."
More talk.
"Well?" Scott asked when they grew silent.
"He's asking fifteen Spanish-milled dollars per picul."
Scott knew that a picul was one hundred and thirty-three and a third pounds, roughly the load a man could carry; he also knew that the owners of the vessel were prepared to pay up to fourteen dollars; and he deduced that Pa' Mahmud expected to get less than he asked. So he shook his head. "Nine dollars."
Fox and the ruler talked again, and this time the latter's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Scott watched a bare-breasted woman herd a half-dozen naked brown children through a door behind the seated Pa' Mahmud.
"Sir," Fox said after awhile, "this is going to take time. If you'll give me the authority, I believe I could work this out for you. After all, we are old friends, Pa' Mahmud and I." He turned his head a little and winked slyly at the captain. "I'll have a look at the pepper, too."
"You know how much we're prepared to pay, don't you?"
"I'll get it for less," Fox said confidently. "And I'll get the best."
"Go ahead, then. I'm relying on you."
Fox looked pleased. "Thank you, sir. While I'm about it, I'll buy that buffalo for meat, too. And I'll arrange for shore leave for the men, if you wish." He hesitated briefly. "It would be—well—diplomatic to ask permission. It's Pa' Mahmud's town."
Scott nodded agreement. He noticed that the rajah thawed noticeably as he and the second officer talked again. Then Fox swung about, a rather smug smile on his face. "The buffalo will be led to the beach this afternoon, sir, and the men can come ashore at any time you say. They'll find girls and arrack in plenty, both cheap. As for the pepper, I'll have a deal made before sundown, I promise you. A good deal."
Scott mopped his sweaty face. "There's no reason for me to remain here, is there? I'm something of a fifth wheel on the wagon now."
"Pa' Mahmud wants us to have a drink with him before you leave, sir."
The two officers from the brig drank arrack, a potent beverage distilled from molasses in this instance. The rajah, a devout Moslem, drank hot tea from a small cup.
First telling off two men to help the cook butcher the buffalo cow which was promptly delivered to the water's edge, Scott gave the larboard watch permission to go ashore in charge of the boatswain.
"Your men can skylark tomorrow," he told Peary.
"How'd you make out?" the first officer asked.
Scott passed a hand wearily over his smarting eyes. He hadn't slept much since the fight at sea. Now that he had left the actual trading in Fox's hands, he was wondering if he had acted wisely; but he answered Peary confidently. "I left that to Fox."