DOC SAVAGE: THE INFERNAL BUDDHA (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray
Tags: action and adventure
his front teeth into a brass gobboon.
Came sounds from behind the cabin door. Splintery noises. In the middle of expectorating a stream of juice, the guard turned—thereby coating walls and floor with blood-colored liquid.
Directly, the sentry heard more sounds. This time crashes. Glass breaking. And pooling out from under the door of the cabin, oozed a pungent brown liquid.
Realizing that the strange prisoners were desecrating the Devilfish’s stock of liquid refreshments, the guard emitted a cackling shriek and fell to unlocking the door.
The lock surrendered and, pulling out his belaying pin, the guard stepped in.
He experienced two simultaneous inconveniences. His legs tripped him up and something broke over his head and assisted him in completing his tumble to the floor.
He landed on his back, shaking warm liquor out of his hair. He looked up to see Mary Chan extracting another bottle of spirits from the splintered packing case. The one that had shattered over his skull finished its breaking when it struck the floor.
They began a great fight.
By now, the guard knew that the twins had stretched a line made of their belts across the cell in front of the door, and he, like a blind clown, had fallen over it. The cut-throat fought handsomely to redeem himself. Dang Mi was not always kidding when he talked about skinning a man alive. The noise of the fight filled that part of the junk.
Pirates began to yell and run toward the spot. They had heard the war.
“Beat it—Mary!” gasped the man-twin, Mark Chan.
At first glance, it does not seem very heroic to run off and leave your twin engaged in a fight. But there was no question about the nerve of either of these twins. They had demonstrated that. And the girl could see that the guard was wiry and as tough as nails and they couldn’t whip him in time for them both to get away. But one might make it. So she tried.
She ducked out, dived down a passage. Ahead, she heard noise. Bare feet smacking companion steps. The passage, of course, had electric lights. Shouting could be heard coming from the other direction. The way to the deck was blocked.
Fine white teeth worrying her lower lip, Mary Chan hesitated. Her liquid dark eyes fastened on an inviting cabin door. She tried it. Not locked. Bounding in, she saw that it was another store room.
There was a single porthole—highly unusual on a junk. She glided to this.
Ship portholes are not normally sufficient to allow a human form to pass through. But Mary Chan was a little trick of a girl, after the Oriental fashion, and too, the Devilfish was no pleasure vessel. Contraband such as the junk ran sometimes had to be ejected overboard in a violent and unprofitable rush.
The porthole was of a diameter that allowed her shoulders and hips—the widest parts of her frame—to slip through once she had made the former small by lifting her arms over her head, and sticking them out the open aperture.
Setting both elbows and palms against the outer hull, Mary Chan began applying herself to the task. After that, it was only a matter of wriggling and squirming while shutting out the rollicking sounds of fight and chaos.
The splash she made entering the water went unnoticed amid the commotion of combat. She surfaced and fell into an animated dogpaddle calculated to make the most headway with the least splashing.
Mary Chan had struck out on a swim for shore and what, although she didn’t know it, was a quest to enlist the aid of Doc Savage, the Man of Bronze, as he was sometimes called. The beginning of the quest, rather.
SINGAPORE HARBOR has for centuries been noted for two things, among others. Filthy water. Sharks. The water is not so bad nowadays, since they have taken to hauling their garbage out to sea. But the sharks still hang around. There is a lot of argument about whether or not sharks will attack a human. Some will. Some won’t. It depends on the breed. These were the kind that would. But they didn’t. The girl
Came sounds from behind the cabin door. Splintery noises. In the middle of expectorating a stream of juice, the guard turned—thereby coating walls and floor with blood-colored liquid.
Directly, the sentry heard more sounds. This time crashes. Glass breaking. And pooling out from under the door of the cabin, oozed a pungent brown liquid.
Realizing that the strange prisoners were desecrating the Devilfish’s stock of liquid refreshments, the guard emitted a cackling shriek and fell to unlocking the door.
The lock surrendered and, pulling out his belaying pin, the guard stepped in.
He experienced two simultaneous inconveniences. His legs tripped him up and something broke over his head and assisted him in completing his tumble to the floor.
He landed on his back, shaking warm liquor out of his hair. He looked up to see Mary Chan extracting another bottle of spirits from the splintered packing case. The one that had shattered over his skull finished its breaking when it struck the floor.
They began a great fight.
By now, the guard knew that the twins had stretched a line made of their belts across the cell in front of the door, and he, like a blind clown, had fallen over it. The cut-throat fought handsomely to redeem himself. Dang Mi was not always kidding when he talked about skinning a man alive. The noise of the fight filled that part of the junk.
Pirates began to yell and run toward the spot. They had heard the war.
“Beat it—Mary!” gasped the man-twin, Mark Chan.
At first glance, it does not seem very heroic to run off and leave your twin engaged in a fight. But there was no question about the nerve of either of these twins. They had demonstrated that. And the girl could see that the guard was wiry and as tough as nails and they couldn’t whip him in time for them both to get away. But one might make it. So she tried.
She ducked out, dived down a passage. Ahead, she heard noise. Bare feet smacking companion steps. The passage, of course, had electric lights. Shouting could be heard coming from the other direction. The way to the deck was blocked.
Fine white teeth worrying her lower lip, Mary Chan hesitated. Her liquid dark eyes fastened on an inviting cabin door. She tried it. Not locked. Bounding in, she saw that it was another store room.
There was a single porthole—highly unusual on a junk. She glided to this.
Ship portholes are not normally sufficient to allow a human form to pass through. But Mary Chan was a little trick of a girl, after the Oriental fashion, and too, the Devilfish was no pleasure vessel. Contraband such as the junk ran sometimes had to be ejected overboard in a violent and unprofitable rush.
The porthole was of a diameter that allowed her shoulders and hips—the widest parts of her frame—to slip through once she had made the former small by lifting her arms over her head, and sticking them out the open aperture.
Setting both elbows and palms against the outer hull, Mary Chan began applying herself to the task. After that, it was only a matter of wriggling and squirming while shutting out the rollicking sounds of fight and chaos.
The splash she made entering the water went unnoticed amid the commotion of combat. She surfaced and fell into an animated dogpaddle calculated to make the most headway with the least splashing.
Mary Chan had struck out on a swim for shore and what, although she didn’t know it, was a quest to enlist the aid of Doc Savage, the Man of Bronze, as he was sometimes called. The beginning of the quest, rather.
SINGAPORE HARBOR has for centuries been noted for two things, among others. Filthy water. Sharks. The water is not so bad nowadays, since they have taken to hauling their garbage out to sea. But the sharks still hang around. There is a lot of argument about whether or not sharks will attack a human. Some will. Some won’t. It depends on the breed. These were the kind that would. But they didn’t. The girl
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