By Monkey

Chapter 41

Voyage into Peril

     Indiana Jones didn’t know how long they’d slept as he pushed off the old piece of canvas that he and Vadoma had used as a blanket and sat up.  He consulted his watch and saw that it was nearly six o’clock.

      “Morning or afternoon?” Jones mumbled to himself as he looked around the untidy cargo compartment.  Without being able to see the sun he had no way of knowing.  But he was fairly certain that it was probably six in the morning.

     Vadoma sat up next to him and winced.  They were both a bit sore from sleeping on the hard steel deck.  She yawned, and then spoke to him.

      “What time is it Indy?  Where are we?  Where are we going?”

      “Whoa!” Jones gave a little chuckle, “one question at a time OK?”

     He gazed up over the edge of the crate behind which they hid and verified that they were still alone in the compartment, and then sat back down next to her.

      “Where are we going is the most important question right now,” he said to her.

      “Ughh!” Vadoma gave forth with a sudden exclamation of disgust, “Indy, look!”

     She pointed to a large rat that had just come around the corner of the shipping crate and was curiously sniffing at the air near to their feet.

     Jones kicked out at the rodent and frightened it away.

      “Rats!” He said disgustedly, “I hate rats almost as much as I hate snakes.”

      “Indy I don’t like this ship.  I have…a bad feeling about it.”

     Jones glanced around the cargo compartment they were in again for a moment, “Yeah,” he said, “I don’t like it either.”

     Vadoma continued on, “It’s old and dirty, and those men…I did not like the looks of those men.”

     Jones too had a bad feeling about the men.  Even in the few brief moments he’d had to observe them he’d formed an opinion…and it wasn’t good.  But he said nothing, not wanting to alarm Vadoma unnecessarily.

      “Well,” he said after a few moments, “I guess what we’ve got to do is find out as much information as we can.”

“Indy maybe we should just try to stay hidden!” Vadoma’s voice echoed the fear that she was beginning to feel about their situation.

      “What,” Jones said, “…stay hidden for the whole time we’re here?  We don’t even know how long we’ll be at sea.  We’ll starve.”

      “Indy I am frightened,” She said, her dark brown eyes beseeching his for strength and comfort.

     Jones smiled reassuringly, “Look, let me just go and…”

      “No!” Vadoma nearly shouted, “You’re not going to go away from me,” she stood up, “where you go I go!”

      “Alright,” Jones said.  Then his eyes went to the shipping crates that were scattered haphazardly all around them, “Well, the first thing we can do is see what these guys are carrying,” he said as he searched around for some kind of tool to open a crate with.

     Feeling emboldened by their solitude in the compartment Jones began to walk around.  Eventually he found a fire axe that was mounted on one of the bulkheads.  He inserted the blade under the lid of a crate and wedged it open.  After setting the lid aside he and Vadoma gazed down at the contents.

      “Shoes,” Vadoma said as she reached her hand in and picked up one of the dozens of pairs of shoes in the crate.  Then she screwed up her pretty face for a moment, “but they are old, and….moldy.  How can they sell shoes like this Indy?  Why do they carry cargo like this?”

     Jones reached his hand into the crate, “Because that’s not the cargo.”

     “Huh?” Vadoma said curiously.

      “….This is,” Jones said as he reached through the pile of shoes and pulled out a burlap bag tied with rope from the lower reaches of the crate.

      “What is that?” Vadoma asked.

     Indiana Jones untied the rope and was immediately met with the unmistakable, flowery smell of opium.”

      “Opium,” Jones said, and then looked around the compartment, “if there are as many bags in the rest of these crates as there are here in this one…this is quite a haul.”

     Then Indiana Jones looked thoughtful for a moment, “That’s probably why they got underway in such a hurry,” he said, “they probably saw all the police on the pier and got spooked….thought they were about to have some trouble.”

     He glanced at his watch, “But right now the sun is coming up.  Come on,” Jones said as he replaced the bag of opium and then the lid of the crate, “if we can see on which side of this ship the sun is coming up we can figure out which direction we’re going.”

     Jones and Vadoma made their way over to the compartment door and then Jones cautiously turned the handle that released the metal ‘dogs’ that held it shut.  He was gambling that there was no one in the space on the other side. He lucked out as he slowly pushed the door open and they stepped into an empty compartment.  There was a ladder that led up to the main deck and they ascended.

     The pair cautiously crept up and out through a hatch and on to the ship’s main deck.  Actually it was an after deck that was a level above the rest of the main deck proper.  They were near to the stern of the vessel, which was good as it was aft of the bridge, that way they were out of sight of the bridge crew that was currently manning the helm.

     It was a brisk Mediterranean winter morning.  But the rising sun promised a warmer day ahead.  A steady breeze blew that ruffled the brim of Jones’ fedora and gently tossed Vadoma’s sleek, raven hair about her pretty head.  Both of them endeavored to remain low to the deck so as not to be seen as they made their way forward towards a large deck fitting that would provide cover.  From their position they could view a large portion of the ship’s main deck below them.

     Indiana Jones watched the sun rising at the edge of the horizon.  He nodded and gave a little half smile.

      “The sun is coming up on the port side,” he said to Vadoma, “that means we’re headed south.  At least one thing is going in our favor.”

     A number of the ship’s crew had gathered on the main deck below and Jones and Vadoma both leaned closer to the rail to get a better look as they began to hear loud voices and shouting.  There appeared to be some kind of conflict taking place.

      “Indy, are they fighting?”

     Jones leaned closer to the rail, “Looks like somebody is.”

     Several crewmen had formed a kind of circle around two others who appeared to be having an altercation of sorts.

      “I guess out at sea you’ve got to get your entertainment where you can,” Jones said as he observed that some of the spectators were cheering the fight, and some even appeared to be placing bets with one another.  But then something caught his eye.

     A glint of metal flashed in the morning sunlight.  One or both of the men had pulled a knife.  Indiana Jones watched more intensely as what had appeared at first glance to be just a simple fist fight between two sailors was turning into something potentially more deadly.

      “Indy, he’s got a knife!” Vadoma said nervously.

     Jones said nothing.  He swallowed hard and continued to observe the struggle on the deck below them with a tense expression.  He reached out his hand to Vadoma to calm her.

     But there was no way to calm her after what happened next.

     With brutal clarity Jones and Vadoma watched as the crewman with the knife gained the advantage over his opponent, and then plunged the knife to the hilt into the man’s chest.  The unfortunate victim staggered forward and then fell face down on the blood spattered deck.

     “Oh Indy!” Vadoma let out a breathless scream.

     But that was only the beginning of the brutality.

     Indiana Jones and Vadoma Maniskelko watched in horror as the killer appeared to almost take a bow before the spectators who clapped, cheered and whistled.  Then he reached down to his victim, grabbed hold of his tattered collar and dragged the body over to the side of the ship.  There he callously kicked the corpse over the side where it dropped down and splashed into the blue-green waters of the Mediterranean.

     “Oh Indy!  These men….they are killers…they are criminals!”

     Jones swallowed hard again.  It appeared that ill fortune had landed them right in the middle of a band of murderous, opium smuggling cut throats.  Had he had any idea, he would have stayed on the pier and just fought it out with the police.  He was beginning to think that might have been preferable.  Now they were out at sea, with nowhere to run.

     He turned to Vadoma, who was visibly shaking, “Listen, don’t worry, we’ll do what you suggested, we’ll stay hidden until we pull into a port, and then we’ll get off this ship.  Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.

     But as Indiana Jones turned around he was rudely confronted with the realization that they wouldn’t be alright.

     Standing behind them were half a dozen ragged, dirty looking thugs.  Three of them carried large wooden boards or clubs, two others gripped wicked looking knives in their hands and at least one of them held a three foot length of pipe. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

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