12 Chinks and A Woman

     “Listen, bright boy, suppose you lay oft the funny angle? I want you to go into the Chinks' cabin and chain them together. There are the chains over there.”

     Fenner looked at the heap of handcuffs linked together with rusty chains that lay in the corner. “What for?” he said.

     “What you think? We gotta be careful, ain't we? If a patrol boat gets on our tail, we shove the rats over. Chained like that they go down quick.”

     Fenner said, “The things you think of!” He took the wheel out of Reiger's hand. “Do it yourself. That ain't up my street.”

     Reiger looked at him in the dim light of the navigation lamp. “Somehow I don't think you're goin' to be a lotta use with our mob,” he said, and picking up the chains, he climbed out of the cockpit and disappeared.

     Fenner made a little face. He couldn't see how much longer he was going to keep this up. He was nearly satisfied that he'd got as much information as he wanted. It depended on what this Glorie Leadler would have to say. If he got what he hoped from her, then he could strike and wash the whole business up.

     A muffled sound of a gun going off jerked his attention to the boat again. He listened, peering ahead but seeing nothing. There was silence, and after a little while Reiger came back into the cockpit again.

     Fenner glanced at him as Reiger took the wheel from him. Reiger's face was hard and cold. “Trouble?” Fenner said.

     Reiger grinned. “They don't like the chains. I had to, shoot one of the bastards in the leg before they'd quiet down.”

     Fenner ran his hand through his hair. It had stopped raining, but he felt cold and damp.

     “Go along an' tell Miller to watch that broad,” Reiger said suddenly. “She looked quiet, but if she starts a squeal, there'll be hell on this ship.”

     “I don't get it,” Fenner said.

     Reiger grinned. “Those twelve Chinks down there ain't touched a woman for six weeks. If they knew one was on board they'd run wild. Jeeze! I've seen it happen. Once I took a boat out with a crazy loon to help me handle the cargo. We got a load of Chinks on and a little mulatto girl. This guy let the Chinks see her, and that started something. I had to shoot two of them and club another two cold. I've never seen anythin' like it. The frill got so scared she tossed herself overboard.”

     Fenner grunted and climbed out of the cockpit. He went aft to the small cabin behind the galley.

     He walked into the cabin and stopped. Miller was holding the Chinese girl down on the floor and beating her about her face with his open hands. Her shirt was ripped to pieces and she was partly naked below the waist.

     She fought him silently, blood running from her nose and from her lips.

     Fenner took a step forward and grabbed Miller by his collar. He heaved, dragging Miller away from the girl. When he got him clear, he booted him hard, sending him sprawling to the other side of the small cabin.

     The girl lay on her side with her knees drawn up and her arms held over her head.

     Miller sat up slowly. His great white face glistened in the lamplight. He focused on Fenner by screwing up his eyes. “Get out of here, an' leave me alone,” he said thickly.

     Fenner didn't say anything. He just stood, his hands hanging loose at his side. Miller looked round the cabin, saw the girl and scrambled over to her.

     Fenner moved. His foot shot out and he kicked Miller in the middle of his chest very hard. Miller flopped over. His breath came out of his mouth in a rasping note, but he didn't take his eyes off the girl. With one hand pressing his chest, he began to crawl towards her again.

     Fenner pulled his gun. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Do you hear? Stop it!”

     Miller took no notice of him. His hand went out and grabbed the girl's ankle. Fenner stepped forward and stamped on Miller's wrist. Miller wouldn't let go.

     Fenner, white-faced and thin-lipped, slid his gun so that he held it by the short barrel. He began to club Miller across his shoulders very hard with the gun. He didn't want to put Miller right out. He might be wanted to handle the boat, but he had to stop this somehow.

     Miller paused, heaved his shoulders, kicked out with his foot. Fenner sucked in his breath and hit him on the top of his head. Miller stiffened, went limp and dropped forward on the girl. He twitched once, as if trying to command his muscles, then his forehead hit the floor with a little thud.

     Fenner shoved his gun away and pulled him off the girl. He took him by his arm and dragged him out of the cabin.

     Reiger shoved his head over the top of the cockpit. “What the hell's goin' on?” he shouted.

     Fenner took no notice. He dumped Miller in the scuppers and went back to the cabin. The girl had drawn up her knees to her chin again. Red-tinged bubbles kept breaking at her lips.

     Fenner knelt down and put his arm under her head. She stiffened, then reached up and hit him hard with her clenched fist across his face.