Sword in Sheath Read Online Free PDF

battered officer's cap covered only the back of a large head where pinkish-sandy hair was as thick as a furry pelt He was picking his teeth and regarding both the Sumba and the morning with a benevolent and proprietary air.
    “ ‘Lo,” he greeted the Americans happily with an accent which was improbaby enough that of River Bend, Iowa. “Grand day, ain't it?”
    “Sure is,” Kane agreed.
    “You two from th’ States?”
    “Yes.”
    “Kinda nice t’ hear that Not that th’ Dutchies ain't good fellas — “ He was fully in earnest now. “Don't ever let any guy say they ain't I'd sign on with th’ old man if I knew it t’ be a fact he was bound straight fer Davy Jones’ boneyard! He's th’ goods, all right, all right But I ain't bin home in ten years now. An’ Statesides talk is good t’ listen t’. What's it like over there now?”
    “Well, different than before the war,” began Kane.
    “Maybe, maybe. Well, you can't have a clean boiler ‘less you chip it An’ we've jus’ had us a mighty big war, a mighty big one. Say, son, I didn't catch your names now — ”
    “I'm Lawrence Kane, and this is Sam Marusaki.”
    “Kane an’ Marusaki As I said before, I’m mighty glad to meet you boys.” He shook hands with a vigorous pump. “I’m Washington Bridger — my old man give me a mighty big name t’ live up t’. I’m chief o’ th’ Sumba. Bin inher ever since Capt van Bleeker had me fished out o’ th’ water after th’ battle fer th’ Straits. Was in th’ Carrie O., an’ she got one right in her middle — went down ’fore we knew what really hit us. But, land alive, she waren't a patch on th’ Sumba — so I got th’ best o’ that bargin. Bit o’ good luck longside th’ bad that time.
    “An’ now th’ old man is goin’ back t’ th’ island trade. Money in that jus’ waitin’ fer some guy t’ pick it up. But — here I am — keepin’ you boys from chow. Git in, git in, an’ tell Chung Wei if he don't treat you right, he'll hear from me — he certainly will!”
    Either the slap of that square hand or the breeze of that frog-voice blew them forward to face a row of chairs bolted to the floor before a long table. Seated at the head of the board was van Bleeker, with a stranger in open-collared shirt and slacks beside him.
    “Good morning, gentlemen, I trust you rested well. We are not a regular passenger ship so you must excuse any discomfort — ”
    Kane laughed. “I’ll be willing to bet that your brand of coffee isn't served aboard many passenger ships!”
    Van Bleeker relaxed a measure of his formality. “You recognize it?”
    “By name, no. But it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted its equal.”
    “Yes, it cannot be found many places. It is a very old blend, best known in the Indies. But I am forgetting manners. Please excuse my rudeness in not at once introducing fellow travelers. This is my good friend the Jonkheer Lorens van Norreys from Rotterdam. And here, van Norreys, you see Mr. Lawrence Kane and Mr. Sam Marusaki from the United States — ”
    But Kane was gaping in a sort of wild-eyed amazement at the tall and almost painfully thin young man who had risen politely to greet them. The American was vainly trying to trace in that face, where lines and hollownow made a sober mask, some resemblance to a photograph he had treasured for years. Only the eyes, blue-gray and very alive, and the waves of crisp, yellow hair were the same.
    “You're dead!” Kane blurted out
    The man from Rotterdam chuckled, and the cruel lines about his mouth were partly smoothed away by a smile of real amusement
    “And so, my dear friend, are you!”
    “But they said — After your letters stopped I tried to reach you through the Red Cross — “ persisted the American “I wrote for two years, and every letter came back.”
    “As did the two I sent you in the spring of ’45 when I was permitted to come to life again.”
    “The spring of ’45. But that was when we were on