Murray Leinster

“ A woebegone member of the stokehold crew, a man McGovern had noticed before was a Persian and not an Arab like the rest, was spitting blood from where a tooth was missing and interpreting at the apparent order of the bearded man above.
“He did, eh?” said McGovern savagely. “An’ why was he so kind?”
“He intend, sar,” said the woebegone little Persian dismally, “he intend to run this ship as pirate to loot the pearling fleet, sar. He want you alive, sar, to fixe engines if they break.”
“You may tell him,” said McGovern grimly, “to go to hell. What’s that noise up there? A fight?” ”

“ The Sheik Abu Nakhl spoke, uninterestedly.
“He say, sar,” translated the little Persian almost tearfully, “that you are Christian dogs and he cut your throats presently. But if you help run the ship, he let you live. If you are good pirates, he will turn you free and give you shares in loot taken.”
McGovern narrowed his eyes. He thought he saw a chance to grab a knife, if he sprang quickly enough.
“Ye can say,” he observed pleasantly, “that we’ll see him in the lowest of the seven hells he believes in before we’ll turn pirate. I’m speaking for the Skipper an’ myself.” ”

“ The Skipper had just fired a Greek engineer bodily off the Kingston, and the engines looked like scrap-iron. He was in no mood to be approached on sentimental topics. The rumbling rose toward speech, which would be blistering, envenomed, wrathful speech. It would probably be a bellow of rage.
“I know, sir,” said McGovern hastily and humbly, “she should make a better match. But I’m already junior engineer o’ the ——” He named his ship with modest pride. “An’ in a couple more voyages, sir——” ”

“ Even a crazy man could see that to linger close was suicide. She drew off fifty yards or more and wallowed and plunged like a mad thing while the fighting went on, on the pearler.
McGovern had been fascinated by the massacre. He almost forgot his own doom ahead. And then the Skipper howled inarticulately through the split plank and McGovern heard his cabin door crash wide. ”

“ Ras-el-Kasr is in the middle of that strip the charts still call the “Pirate Coast.” McGovern, and the Skipper if alive, were being held in case of an emergency—to be used to work the Kingston out of any jam that bad seamanship or an engine breakdown might get her into. When they were no longer needed, they would be killed.
McGovern was gloomy enough and growing furious when four men, armed to the teeth, came casually into his cabin and kicked him, and slit his bonds and jerked him up into the chartroom. ”

“ TO SHEIK ABU NAKHL OF RAS-EL-KASR—AND PROMPTLY FOUND THEMSELVES DELIVERED INTO THE HANDS OF THE PIRATICAL ABU, WHO HAD MOST EVIL DESIGNS ON THE PEARLERS OF THE PERSIAN GULF. ALL OF WHICH GAVE THE SKIPPER A CHANCE TO PROVE HE AT LEAST KNEW BEST HOW TO MAKE A NEW USE OF AN OLD ANCHOR.
Chief Engineer McGovern poked his head up through a hole in the Kingston’s deck and surveyed the shore mournfully. He sighed. It is always bad to be a young man in love. It is worse to be stuck on a tub like the Kingston out of love for the Skipper’s daughter. ”

“ A tinned plum-pudding, a tin of Danish butter, Devon sausages with a large picture of a pig on the label, and two monster Westphalian hams lay on the floor beside it. That explained the security of the box. ”