CHAPTER V
Trail of the "Sampaguita"
The PAL plane droned westward, over the incredible swamps of the PulangiRiver, toward Cotabato. Rick watched the sweltering marshland unfoldbelow and caught glimpses of the winding brown river that turned thecountryside into a morass. From Colonel Rojas' briefing he knew that thecountryside was alive with crocodiles and less pleasant creatures.
In the seat next to Rick, Scotty catnapped. Zircon, across the aisle,was apparently deep in thought.
Rick hoped fervently that they weren't on a wild-goose chase. At Davaothey had learned that Briotti, Shannon, and their guide had beenkidnaped by some group the Bagobos feared. The reason for the kidnapingcould not be guessed. No requests for ransom had been made, and thescientists had no known personal enemies.
Instead of clearing up the mystery, Rick thought, the little they hadfound had only deepened it. His concern for his missing friends hadturned to a deep fear that they might not be found until too late. Hewas very conscious of the passage of time. Nearly three weeks hadelapsed since the scientists had been forcefully taken from the Bagobovillage.
"Think they were taken away on the boat?" Scotty asked suddenly.
Rick turned quickly. Scotty hadn't been napping after all. "We can't besure, but doesn't it seem likely?"
"It does to me. Of course the kidnapers might have carried them into theinterior, but I can't imagine anyone carrying prisoners over thosejungle trails. Besides, the boat is missing."
"There are no roads where they could have been taken by car," Rickagreed. "Lacson will try to find the cars that brought them into Davao,but even if he succeeds, it won't tell us much." He changed the subject."Who could those men have been? They must have been pretty fierce tofrighten the Bagobos. That headman doesn't look like a man who scareseasily."
"I haven't the glimmer of an idea. Kidnaping two scientists makes nosense at all."
"True. But it must have made sense to the kidnapers."
Scotty didn't comment further. After a while Rick reached under the seatand drew out Shannon's quiver. He had wrapped it in a plastic bag inwhich his trousers had been returned by the dry cleaner.
The quiver was of soft leather, and made to be slung on the back. It wascompartmented for three kinds of arrows. Rick drew one out and saw thatit was a blunt type for hunting small game. Next to the blunt ones wererazor-sharp broadhead arrows. The third variety was smaller broadheads.There were a dozen of each.
On the back of the quiver were two zippered pouches. In the first Rickfound four new bowstrings and beeswax for waxing them, plus a small fileand a whetstone for keeping the broadheads sharp. In the othercompartment were two sets of finger cots, or protectors, and a stiffleather arm guard. He slipped a protector, made like sections of glovefingers, on the first three fingers of his right hand. A size too large,but it would do. The arm guard would be all right when he adjusted it.
The bow was in its own special compartment. Rick checked and saw that itwas undamaged. It was in two sections, the upper limb made to be fittedinto the handle, which was permanently attached to the lower limb. Itwas an excellent bow, not as heavy as some, but a deadly weapon in thehands of a good shot. It pulled fifty pounds at twenty-eight inchesdraw.
Rick slipped the quiver back under the seat. He planned to carry it whennecessary, so that he, too, would be armed. He was a better than averagebowman. It was one of the few sports in which he could nearly alwaysbeat Scotty, thanks to his own aptitude and Shannon's teaching. Henoticed suddenly that the seat belt light had flashed on. He tightenedhis belt as the plane descended into Cotabato.
He watched as the city came into view. It was a community of smallhouses located on a series of rivers or canals. The surroundingcountryside was given over to rice paddies and occasional coconutgroves.
This was the first step in the backward trail. Rick had no idea whatthey might find, but lacking any other course of action they had decidedto go back along the _Sampaguita's_ route hoping to pick up a clue. Theywould stay in Cotabato only as long as the plane stopped, just timeenough to meet Tony Briotti's friend, Father Murray, an Americanmissionary priest.
As the plane swept in for a landing across the unpaved runway Rick sawthe white robes of a priest and knew that Major Lacson's message to theCotabato constabulary detachment asking that the priest meet the planehad been received.
Father Murray, a lean, tanned, sun-helmeted man of youthful appearance,greeted them as they stepped from the plane. Zircon introduced himselfand the boys, and the four retired to the shade of a royal palm to talk.
"Tony and Howard's disappearance was shocking news," Father Murraycommented. "You have no new information about what happened to them?"
Zircon told him the little they knew. "We stopped by to see you, hopingyou could shed some light on the kidnaping."
The priest shook his head. "I haven't the remotest idea. Their visithere was without incident, except for a robbery attempt. I don't evenrecall any conversation that might be helpful. We talked mostly abouttheir research project."
"You mentioned a robbery?" Rick asked.
"Yes, the first night they were here. Thieves broke into the _convento_,but by good luck, some of my Christian parishioners who live next doorwere awake. They hurried to the rescue with guns, and the thieves fledbefore they found where we were sleeping. My people said they wereMoros."
Zircon gestured at a group of Moros lounging in the shade of the woodenairport building. "You seem to have quite a few of them here."
Father Murray chuckled. "Indeed we do. This is a Moro province. Both themayor and governor are Moros. Christians are few."
Rick noted the tight trousers and bolero-type vests that exposedmuscular chests. Two of the Moros wore purple velvet caps. The otherswore straw hats of intricately woven design that reminded him ofhelmets.
"Was a Moro guide with our friends?" Zircon asked.
"Yes. He seemed like a respectable young man. I saw little of him,however. He stayed with us, but kept to himself, probably bored with ourtalk. Did you know that Tony and I were classmates in high school?"
The three hadn't known it. No wonder Tony and Shannon had gone so farout of their way to visit Cotabato.
"That robbery attempt interests me," Scotty said. "Have you ever hadsuch an incident before?"
"Never. The Moros let us alone. Besides, the proverbial church micewould seem rich compared with us. We have literally nothing worthrobbing."
The flight was called and the Spindrifters shook hands with FatherMurray. He waved as they boarded the plane and prepared to take off.
"Not very helpful," Professor Zircon remarked, "although I'm glad we hada chance to meet Father Murray."
Rick agreed, but added, "Doesn't it strike you as pretty strangecoincidence that thieves should try to rob him for the first time, onthe night Briotti and Shannon arrived?"
Scotty saw at once what Rick meant. "You think they might not have beenthieves? That it might have been a kidnap attempt that failed?"
"It's a possibility," Rick pointed out.
Zircon leaned across the aisle. "Consider the implications of whatyou're saying, Rick. Cotabato is a long way from Davao. Why would a gangchase our friends across Mindanao?"
"Why were they kidnaped?" Rick retorted.
"Obviously, we don't know. If we accept your idea, do we assume it wasthe same gang that traveled from Cotabato to Davao? Or, were both groupslocal people?"
Scotty swallowed. "If they were local people, that has to mean some kindof well-organized syndicate with members in just about every port!"
Rick nodded. He had seen at once the implications of his idea. "It couldmean that."
Scotty sank back into his seat. "But whatever it means, it gives noexplanation of why Tony and Shannon were kidnaped."
"We'll find the explanation somehow," Rick said, with more assurancethan he felt. He added grimly, "We've got to!"