THE decoy-shipCanveylay at anchor off St. Vincent, whither she had gone to replenish her oil-fuel tanks. Both officers and men were growing tired of the seemingly interminable stunt of steaming to and fro between the Cape Verde Islands and Teneriffe, vainly inviting Captain Cain to "tread on the tail of my coat." They wanted to cut into Wad-el-Abuam and settle the matter once and for all. It was galling to have to keep in the offing, while the Spanish destroyerVillamilwas at liberty to enter the estuary and destroy the pirates' lair.
Day after day passed without untoward incident. Although the Spanish Government had expressed its intention of keeping the British Admiralty well informed as to the progress of operations, no message was received by theCanveyfrom London, or in fact from anywhere that had any bearing upon the all-important subject of the destruction of the pirate submarine.
And for a very good reason. No wireless message from theVillamilwas received by theSpanish naval authorities after a brief report that the destroyer was about to enter the Wad-el-Abuam to attack theAlerte. From that time the movements of the destroyer were shrouded in mystery.
Presently it occurred to the Spanish Admiralty that all was not well with theVillamil. There was something decidedly ominous about the prolonged silence. The weather had been unusually quiet, so her disappearance could not be attributed to a sudden tempest. It seemed incredible that a unit of Spain's navy had been vanquished by a contemptible pirate ship. But at last that supposition had to be regarded as a fact.
About that time serious riots broke out in Barcelona. Every available Spanish destroyer was dispatched to that port to assist in quelling the disorder. Unable to police her territorial waters of the Rio del Oro, the Spanish Government, putting its pride in its pocket, made a request to the British Admiralty that the destruction of the pirate submarine should be undertaken by the British Navy.
TheCanveyreceived her wireless instructions to this effect at noon. Without delay the awnings were furled, steam raised for seventeen knots, and the anchor weighed. The knowledge that the destroyersComplexandCalyxwere under orders to leave Gibraltar for the Rio del Oro coast was no small factor in determining theCanvey'shurried departure.
No longer need she to steam slowly, with a red ensign fluttering aft, and her officers and crewrigged out like members of the humble but all-important Mercantile Marine. With her hitherto concealed guns showing their teeth and the white ensign streaming proudly to the breeze, she could dash into the estuary of the Wad-el-Abuam, summon theAlerteto surrender, and in default send her to the bottom for all time. But she must be first upon the scene. Should her friendly rivals, the heavily-armedComplexandCalyx, forestall her, then theCanvey'smotto would be the single word, Ichabod.
Two hours after leaving St. Vincent, Lieutenant-Commander Raxworthy was conferring with Broadmayne, who happened to be officer of the watch, when the leading telegraphist approached, saluted, and tendered a signal-pad.
The owner read the message. The corners of his mouth dropped.
"We're done out of a job, Broadmayne," he remarked. "TheAlerte'ssettled with."
"Our destroyers, sir?"
Raxworthy shook his head.
"Not an Andrew job this time," he replied. "Read this."
The message was a wireless signalen clairas follows:
"From s.s.Bronx Cityof Boston, Mass., from Accra to Lisbon. Encountered pirate vesselAlertein lat. 19° 17' N., long. 18° 23' W.Alertefired three rounds and attempted to close.Bronx Cityported helm, strikingAlerteamidships.Alertesank in three minutes. Four survivors. Am proceeding.—ADAMS. Master."
"That Yankee's in luck," observed Lieutenant Commander Raxworthy. "He stands to rake in thirty thousand pounds. Carry on," he added, addressing the leading telegraphist. "Copies to wardroom, gunroom, and mess-deck."
In a few minutes the "buzz" was all over the ship. The feeling of disappointment had a consoling feature. TheCanveywould be ordered home to be put out of commission, and that meant the bluejackets' highly-prized privilege—paying off leave, or "leaf" as the "matloe" insists on calling it.
To settle the matter, an Admiralty wireless was received announcing that operations against the pirate submarine were to cease forthwith; vessels concerned were to proceed to their respective bases.
"THERE'S thatCandideasking for trouble, sir," replied Pengelly, as he entered the captain's cabin. "We've just intercepted a message saying she's leaving St. Vincent to-day."
"She's been reporting her movements long enough," said Captain Cain. "We'll see what we can do. We'll have to shift from here in any case. We'll find a suitable cubby-hole somewhere down the coast, even if we have to try the Nigerian backwater. One good haul, Pengelly, and we'll pack up and share the proceeds."
"We've done nothing much to write home about since we came south," grumbled the second in command. "Sending a Dago destroyer to the bottom doesn't put shot in our locker."
"Quite so," agreed Cain. "That's why I'm anxious to nab theCandide. Pass the word to Mr. Barnard that I want to be under way in an hour's time—just before high water."
When Cain came on deck all preparations were complete, except for breaking out the anchor. TheAlertewas riding to the flood tide. The mud flats on either side of the estuary were covered. The air was hot, sultry and still. Outside, the surf thundered heavily on the bar.
At five knots theAlerteheaded seawards, scraping past the submerged wreckage of theVillamilto starboard and the island to port, where the now-abandoned signal-station alone remained as a visible reminder of the pirate submarine's brief and financially disappointing sojourn in the estuary of the Wad-el-Abuam.
Just before two bells in the afternoon watch, smoke was observed on the southern horizon. Twenty minutes later the dark grey hull of a fairly big steamer emerged from the patches of haze.
"She's theCandideright enough," declared Cain. "Clear away the gun, my lads. One more hooker and our job's done.... No colours yet, Mr. Barnard. We'll let 'em have a good sight of the Jolly Roger in a brace of shakes. Pick your boarding-party, Mr. Pengelly. See that everything's ready in the boat."
The two vessels were approaching on their respective courses which, if adhered to, would enable the stranger to pass a good half-mile on theAlerte'sport side. The pirate submarine held on in order to avoid arousing suspicion on the part of the stranger.
Suddenly Pengelly, who had been keeping the approaching craft under observation through a pair of powerful binoculars, turned to his superior.
"She's a Yankee, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "She's flying the Stars and Stripes."
"Ay," agreed Cain, with a grin. "And there's the nameBronx Cityon her bows as large as life. Yankee colours and Yankee name don't turn a Belgian tramp into a United States hooker. I'mtoo old a bird to be caught with chaff.... Starboard a bit, Quartermaster... at that!"
The eyes of the signalman, the gun's crew and the seamen standing aft with the rolled-up skull and cross-bones already toggled to the halyards, were all fixed expectantly upon the skipper of the pirate submarine as he stood at the extreme end of the port side of the bridge.
Captain Cain raised his right hand. At the signal the black flag was broken out, the International ID hoisted at the fore, while an instant later a shot whizzed across the stranger's bows.
The warning was promptly acted upon. The intercepted craft reversed engines, lost way and then came to a stop. The Stars and Stripes remained fluttering in the faint breeze.
Promptly Pengelly and his men pushed off to the prize, under cover of theAlerte'ssix-inch gun. Before the boat ran alongside the stranger, the latter's accommodation-ladder had been lowered.
Pistol in hand, Pengelly, followed by his men, swarmed up the swaying ladder. At the gangway, supported by several officers and crew stood a tall, hatchet-faced man in white drill uniform and with his peaked cap tilted well over his left eye.
"What in the name of tarnation thunder do you want?" he demanded. "Cocktails, lime-juice or milk? If you do, you won't get—so quit."
Pengelly realised that Cain had made a mistake. The vessel was not theCandidedisguised, but theBronx City, registered and owned in the United States. But having boarded her, Pengelly had no intention ofreturning ignominiously totheAlerte.
"No quitting this time, skipper," he replied firmly. "I'm not here to argue—this is my persuader."
He touched the barrel of his automatic with his left hand and then pointed to theAlerte, which was still closing the prize.
"Guess you'll swing for this," exclaimed the captain of theBronx City.
"More ways than one of killing a cat," retorted Pengelly. "Now, you—officers and men—for'ard you go and keep quiet, or it'll be the worse for you."
Shepherded by half a dozen of theAlerte'sarmed boarding-party, the crew of the Yankee were made to go for'ard. Pengelly turned to the Old Man.
"I don't know your tally," he remarked.
"Cap'n Hiram Adams is my name," replied the skipper of theBronx City. "Guess people know me from Quebec round the Horn and up to Seattle and on this side of the herring-pond, too, I reckon. Hope you're wiser."
"I am," rejoined Pengelly curtly. "Now let me see your papers."
Accompanied by the prize-master and followed by two of theAlerte'shands, Captain Adams went to his cabin, unlocked a safe and produced the necessary documents.
Pengelly's eyes opened with astonished satisfaction. TheBronx City, a twin-screw boat, had a rich cargo. She had come from Beira with a heavy consignment of gold from Lisbon. At Accra she had picked up a thousand barrels ofpalm oil. Amongst other articles enumerated on her manifest were ivory and ostrich feathers. In addition to her cargo, she carried nine Portuguese passengers—residents of Beira and Quilimane—on their way to Lisbon.
Unable to decide what was to be done, Pengelly ordered one of the hands to semaphore theAlerteand inform Captain Cain of the identity of the prize and the nature of her cargo.
Back came the reply: "Stand fast. Am coming on board."
Cain lost no time in so doing. He was far more perturbed than was his second in command. He had gone against his resolution not to molest a United States ship. He had done so in all good faith—if such a term can be applied to rank piracy—but the fact remained that he had fired upon a vessel flying the Stars and Stripes.
Long before theAlerte'ssecond cutter came alongside theBronx City, Cain had made up his mind as to the course to pursue.
Ascending the accommodation-ladder, he made his way to the bridge where Captain Hiram Adams was standing under guard.
"I am sorry, Cap'n Adams," said Cain, after he had requested Pengelly to introduce him; "there's been a mistake on my part."
"Sure thing," replied the Yankee skipper. "But I calculate there ain't no darned mistake about that."
He pointed to the skull and cross-bones flying from theAlerte'sensign-staff.
"There isn't," agreed Cain, with a disarmingsmile. "The mistake was entirely upon my part. I took you for theCandide. S'pose you haven't spoken her?"
"Nope."
"She's doubtless skulking at St. Vincent, scared stiff and afraid to meet me," continued the pirate. "Well, Cap'n Adams, I'm not going to do you any harm. I'm not going to touch an ounce of your cargo——"
"But, sir," interrupted Pengelly, holding out the ship's papers. "Look here."
Cain gave a quick glance through their contents. Most of the cargo, including the gold, was Portuguese property. It was a great temptation.
"I know my business, Mr. Pengelly," he said sternly. "Now, Cap'n Adams, to resume. You'll be free to resume your voyage in a few days. In my own interests I am reluctantly compelled to employ you for my own protection. If you give no trouble you'll receive none. Is that clear?"
Captain Hiram Adams nodded. A grim smile spread over his lean features. After all, he was coming out lightly. His ship was not to be sunk; his cargo was to remain intact.
"Guess it's your funeral—not mine," he replied. "Get busy!"
Cain proceeded to get busy. His first step was to send for theBronx City'swireless operator.
As soon as the fictitious message announcing the ramming and sinking of theAlertehad been sent out, Cain ordered the operator below, locked the door of the wireless cabin, and placed an armed guard outside.
"Gee! Guess you're some lineal descendant of Ananias, Cap'n!" exclaimed the master of theBronx Cityadmiringly. "Reckon you'd make a pile in Wall Street in next to no time."
Cain's next step was to place Pengelly with five men in charge of theBronx City, and to order the chief and second officers of the latter on board theAlerte.
"Just as a matter of form, Cap'n Adams," he remarked: "it will save a heavy strain on your steward's department.... Now, Mr. Pengelly, keep station four cables astern of me, if you please; speed twelve knots. Under no consideration, should we sight another craft, will theBronx Citycommunicate."
The pirate captain returned to theAlerte. If the misleading wireless message "went down," then theAlertehad yet another lease of life and activity. The possible presence of British and foreign warships off the Rio del Oro was a danger which he fully appreciated. Once the coast was clear of that type of craft he could prey on merchantmen during the next few weeks with comparative impunity. He was very keen to snap up the hitherto much-advertisedCandide.
He felt considerably elated over theBronx Cityaffair. His magnanimity would be an asset in his favour. His discrimination in refusing to plunder a cargo carried under the Stars and Stripes would show that he was not a wild dog at large. Altogether, he was very pleased with himself.
For the rest of the day theAlerte, with theBronx Citykeeping demurely in her wake, kept a southerly course. As night fell she stood in towards the coast, sighting land soon after dawn. Ahead lay the Bahia Arenas, an enclosed anchorage nearly ten miles in length and averaging one in breadth, with an extreme depth of fourteen fathoms. Separated from the Atlantic by a long low, sandy island, it received the Faltuba River, a fairly deep stream meandering between banks of mangroves and bounded for miles by miasmic swamps.
Years ago the Portuguese had attempted to convert Bahia Arenas into a commercial port. They built a stone fort, wharves and huts. The experiment was a failure. They had reckoned without the deadly climate. It was healthy enough for vessels lying at anchor in the sandy bay, but no European could for any length of time withstand the pestilential air that rose from the mangroves. The fort fell into decay, the wharves rotted. When in course of time the French took over the country between Cape Blanco and British Gambia, they sedulously avoided any scheme to open out the Faltuba River, and consequently no shipping had occasion to use Bahia Arenas for commercial purposes.
The entrance was an easy one. Even at low springs there were eighteen feet of water on the bar, with an additional height of twelve feet at high water.
Once inside, theAlertesignalled to theBronx Cityto heave to. Captain Cain boarded the American and took charge of the bridge.
"I am going to run your ship aground, Cap'n," he announced to the Yankee skipper. "You'll come to no harm. The mud's soft. You'll come off before next springs—say in a week's time. By then, we shall be miles away."
Captain Hiram Adams made no audible comment. He merely put his tongue in his cheek.
Two miles up the river and hidden from the sea by a spur of high ground thickly covered with coco-palms, Captain Cain ordered the quartermaster of theBronx Cityto put her helm hard-a-port.
At a speed of about five knots, the ship ran aground on the starboard side of the river, ploughing through the soft mud for quite her own length before coming to a dead stop. There she lay, on an even keel, with her bows within a hundred yards of the bluff of hard ground.
"You're lying nicely, Cap'n," observed Cain, as he prepared to withdraw the prize-crew. "I've taken the liberty to remove certain essentials of your wireless; but I'll do my level best to send the stuff along to your nearest agents."
Returning on board theAlerte, Cain's first act was to send for her wireless operator.
"Any signals from theCandide?" he inquired.
"None, sir," was the reply. "I've had the 'phones on almost continuous-like since midnight."
"Well, carry on," rejoined the captain, paying no heed to the man's carefully-worded complaint.
"Unfeeling swine!" muttered the operator, as he made his way back to the wireless cabin. "Me carry on after sixteen hours' trick? Not much."
"HE'S safe enough, Pengelly," remarked Cain, indicating the strandedBronx City. "Any trouble?"
"None whatever, sir," replied his subordinate. "Old Adams was as good as gold after you had explained matters."
"'Fraid we've missed theCandide, curse her," said the pirate captain. "We'll have to keep a look-out for something else. I've warned the operator. Well, take over now, Pengelly. I'm going to have a few hours' sleep. Call me if anything occurs."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Pengelly.
Cain went to his cabin, locked the door, and with the exception of kicking off his shoes, turned in "all standing."
He had had a fairly strenuous time of late. He did not spare his crew, nor did he spare himself, but he forgot the important fact that he could go for long periods without rest and sleep, whereas most of the hands could not.
In less than a minute he was sound asleep.
A quarter of an hour later, Pengelly, accompanied by a couple of men, tiptoed to the door. Helistened. Cain was breathing heavily in a sound slumber. The second in command bent down and peered through the keyhole. The electric light was burning. He could see nothing of the captain, since his range of vision was limited by the smallness of the keyhole. Above the door was a lowered ventilator. Cautiously, Pengelly stopped the opening with a damp cloth. Then he signed to one of the men.
The fellow applied a rubber tube to the keyhole. At the other end of the tube was a bag containing chloroform. For several minutes the suffocating fumes were being pumped into the cabin.
"'Nough, if you don't want to snuff him out," declared the man.
"Sure he's insensible?" asked Pengelly anxiously.
"Like a noo-born babby," replied the fellow confidently.
"Good enough," was the response. "Down with the door. Got lashings ready?"
The two seamen put their shoulders to the steel panel. It gave slightly, but the lock held in spite of reiterated efforts.
"Get a sledge-hammer," ordered Pengelly impatiently, as he toyed with a belaying-pin. A few blows with the heavy hammer shattered the lock. Pengelly, followed by more of the crew, rushed in. Cain, with a dazed look on his face, and making a gurgling sound as he strove for breath, was sitting up in his bunk with an automatic in his hand.
Without a word the captain levelled the weaponand pressed the trigger. There was a deafening report. The bullet, missing Pengelly's head by an inch, flattened itself against the steel bulkhead.
Before Cain could fire again, Pengelly sprang forward and brought the belaying-pin down upon the pirate captain's skull.
"Turn on the ventilating fan, one of you," ordered the chief mutineer. "Place reeks like a slaughter-house. Carry him on deck. He's not dead. He'll be more useful to us alive. Pass a lashing round his ankles, and when he comes to, see that he's properly lashed-up."
They bore the body of the unconscious Cain on deck, where the rest of the crew were assembled.
Of the two men—Cain and Pengelly—the hands preferred Cain. He possessed certain qualities that appealed to the crowd of lawless rascals. Pengelly did not. But it was the affair of theBronx Citythat had enabled Pengelly to prevail upon the crew to mutiny. They could not understand why Cain refrained from looting her valuable cargo—why he should waste precious time in bringing the prize into Bahia Arenas when theCandidewas somewhere south of Las Palmas and likely to fall an easy prey to theAlerte. The chance of capturing theCandidehad gone, they decided. TheBronx Cityremained.
"We'll have the gold," declared Pengelly to the mustered crew. "We'll take it up the river and bury it. Then all that remains to be done is to take theAlerteto within a few miles of St. Louis—or Bathurst, if more are in favour of it—scuttle her and take to the boats. We'll have to pitch aplausible yarn and get sent home as shipwrecked mariners. Then, in due course, we recover the gold and share out."
"How about the ransom for that Admiralty inspector bloke we kidnapped?" demanded one of the crew.
"And theCap Hoornloot?" added another.
Pengelly assured them that they would all have equal shares in the plunder. In his own mind he felt certain that they would not. Already he counted upon getting hold of the booty entrusted to the late Captain Silas Porthoustoc. He wasn't altogether too sure about Jasper Chamfer's ransom. For a considerable time he had harboured a suspicion that Cain was feathering his own nest with the money.
"Man and arm boats," he ordered. "We'll want every available hand for this job. We've got to gut the Yankee hooker and bury the stuff before dawn."
Into the boats tumbled the swarm of ruffians. Discipline had gone by the board. During Cain's regime every evolution had been performed with man-of-war smartness. Now Jack was as good as his master.
Alongside the strandedBronx Cityran the boats. Armed men, cursing and frantically brandishing their automatic pistols, swarmed up her sides. Without any ceremony, Captain Hiram Adams was made to hand over the keys of the strong-room. The American crew were driven for'ard and secured in the forepeak. Then the work of looting began. There was no method about the procedure. Thepirates rifled indiscriminately. The strong-room door was forced and the gold-dust taken on deck, but not before a large quantity of the precious metal had found its way into the pockets of individual members of theAlerte'screw. The ivory being in bulk and too large to be conveniently hidden by the finders, was dumped into the boats. The American officers' quarters were invaded and their belongings either stolen or strewn all over the deck. The passengers were insulted, threatened and robbed; while, to make matters worse, the pirates broached several casks of rum, and having drunk as much as they could carry—and more—they wantonly allowed the rest of the spirit to run to waste.
"Best batten the Yanks down and fire the ship," suggested one drunken rascal. "Dead men tell no tales. How about it, Cap'n Pengelly?"
Pengelly objected. He shrank from work of that kind, not because he possessed any strong degrees of humanity, but because he feared the consequences.
"They gave us no trouble," he said. "The ship's hard and fast aground. She can't signal to any vessel in the offing. Let her alone. We'll get the stuff up the river and hide it."
Unsteadily, the besotted pirates dropped into the two deeply-laden boats and rowed back to theAlerte.
Cain, who had been left in charge of Barnard and a couple of hands, had recovered consciousness. Pengelly, after giving one furtive glance at his former partner, ascended the bridge ladder.
"Look alive, lads!" he shouted. "Get the booty aboard!"
"What for?" bawled one of the crew. "If we've got to land the swag what's the use of unloading the boats and loading 'em up again? Useless work, I calls it."
Instead of insisting upon his orders being carried out, Pengelly began to explain the reason.
"Don't you see that the people of theBronx Cityare watching us?" he replied. "If they see that we are towing the loaded boats up the river, they'll guess we're hiding the plunder ashore. Whip it aboard. It's worth the extra work."
"Then do it yourself," retorted the mutineer. "We've had enough back-breaking jobs lately. 'Sides, what odds if the Yanks do spot us?"
His protest was upheld by several others. Marchant and half a dozen of the hands who were not so drunk as the rest tried to convince them of the soundness of Pengelly's order.
For some moments the dispute threatened to develop into a free fight, until Pengelly, fearful lest the objectors should gain the upper hand in a physical contest, bade the gunner pass the boats astern to be taken in tow.
The anchor was weighed and at four knots—more speed would have resulted in the swamping of the heavily-laden boats—theAlerteascended the river.
Almost as soon as the pirate submarine had disappeared from view, the imprisoned officers and crew of theBronx Citywere released by the Portuguese passengers.
Captain Hiram Adams' first step was to assure himself that his ship had not been crippled beyond being run aground. To his delight he found that beyond the damage caused by the looters in their work of plunder and the removal of certain wireless essentials, the Bronx City was unharmed. He had given a shrewd and correct guess as to the reason of the pirates' return visit. He had summed up Cain as a man of his word, who was in consequence not responsible for the orgy of plunder. Therefore, he concluded, that there had been an "almighty bust-up," and that Cain had been supplanted by the loose-lipped, spineless Pengelly.
Captain Adams had made several trips up the Mississippi as far as Memphis. He had had many experiences of running aground the soft mudbanks that fringe the frequently-shifting channel of that enormous waterway. He was now going to put that knowledge to practical use.
"Say, how long will it take for a full head of steam?" he inquired of the chief engineer.
"I guess an hour," replied that worthy, knowing that the fires had not been drawn when the ship took the ground. "Mebbe less."
"Then get busy," rejoined the Yankee skipper.
The chief went below with his assistant and firemen. Presently volumes of smoke poured from the Bronx's City smoke-stack.
While steam was being raised, Captain Hiram Adams ordered a kedge-anchor to be laid out in the stream, and the stout wire hawser attached to it to be led aft, so that the angle made by thekeel of the ship and the wire was roughly forty-five degrees.
As soon as the chief engineer reported that the pressure gauges registered a sufficient head of steam, the skipper telegraphed for full-speed ahead with the port engine.
Completely mystified, the chief obeyed, wondering what possessed the Old Man to go full ahead with one engine that would tend to drive the ship farther into the mud-bank.
Nor was the chief the only one puzzled. In fact, some of the crew wondered whether recent events had not touched the skipper's brain. And their wonderment increased when Captain Hiram Adams, with a huge cigar jutting at an acute angle from the corner of his mouth, descended from the bridge.
"Guess those darned cargo-lifters won't be comin' down before morning, Mr. Kelly," he remarked to his chief officer. "We'll be quit before then. Set an anchor-watch and inform me if anything happens."
"And the engines?" inquired Mr. Kelly.
"Full ahead all the time," replied the skipper, and without offering any explanation, he went to his cabin to snatch a few hours' sleep.
All the rest of that day and throughout the night the port engine kept up its tireless task. The massive propeller in going ahead was constantly throwing aft volumes of water with quantities of mud held in suspension. Slowly but surely the soft slime was being sucked away from the vessel's port bilge, thus making a trench intowhich, when the time came, theBronx Citywould slide sideways.
Just before the first streaks of the brief tropical dawn appeared over the dark outlines of the mangroves, Captain Hiram Adams appeared on deck.
It was now close on high water. Although the tide was still making, there was a considerable quantity of turgid fresh water coming downstream.
Giving instructions to the chief officer to bring a strain upon the wire hawser, the skipper telegraphed for the port engines to stop and the starboard for "Full Astern." The hull of theBronx Cityquivered. For a brief, anxious period her fate hung in the balance. Then, with a squelching sound as tons of shiny black mud were shifted bodily, the vessel slithered into the trench and began to gather sternway in midstream, held only by the stern kedge.
With the least possible delay the wire hawser was hove taut and the kedge broken out. Then, at "Easy ahead," theBronx Citymade for the open sea.
Meanwhile theAlertehad gone upstream, arriving well before nightfall at an anchorage five miles above the spot where she had left her latest capture. Here Pengelly, accompanied by two of the hands, went ashore, the new captain taking with him a prismatic compass.
Selecting a suitable spot, he took bearings on three conspicuous objects, making the necessary data in his pocket-book. His assistants watchedthe operation with semi-torpid interest. They had a vague idea of what he was about, which was what Pengelly wanted.
Returning on board, he mustered the crew. They crowded round in a disorderly mob—a striking contrast to the orderly way in which they fell in under Captain Cain's orders.
"I've fixed the spot for burying the booty, my lads!" he announced. "The sooner we get to work the quicker we'll be able to make ourselves scarce. In a week the place will be overgrown——"
"Then 'ow the blazes are we to find it again?" interrupted one of the audience.
"Quite a natural, intelligent question," rejoined Pengelly. "I've taken a three-point bearing. With either a sextant or a compass it will be as easy as winking to fix the spot to a yard. This is a mutual concern, my lads, so I'll chalk up the angles so that you can make a note of them in case anything happens to me. That's fair enough, isn't it? Now, fall in half a dozen of you with spades, nip ashore and begin digging like Hades. Yes, the ivory won't hurt if it's well covered with canvas."
The digging party landed, while others, still under the effect of the rum, proceeded to unload the booty from the boats. While the operation was in progress, Pengelly chalked the required information on the bulkhead of the dummy fo'c'sle—only the bearings he wrote down for the information of the crew differed materially from those he had noted in his pocket-book.
Then he went ashore to watch the progress of the work of burying the loot.
"Wot abaht these 'ere austridge feathers?" inquired one of the men, holding up a bunch for inspection.
"Share them out," replied Pengelly. "When we make port they'll fetch a tidy price. They won't keep here... Pile the earth up, men. It's bound to sink a bit. Look alive. It's not healthy to be hanging about ashore with this mist rising."
While the new captain was superintending operations on the river bank, Barnard, who with two men had been detailed to keep an eye on the deposed skipper, came across to where Cain was lying on deck under the bridge.
"I wouldn't that this happened for worlds, sir," he remarked to his former chief. "I couldn't warn you. They'd have let daylight into me if I had. And these two men—Davidge and Cross—they are proper jonnick. If we've the rope's end of a chance to get you out of this mess, sir, we'll do it."
Cain smiled grimly. The effects of the chloroform, never very heavy, had worn off, but the blow with the belaying-pin had weakened him considerably.
"I see they've looted theBronx City," he remarked bitterly. "That's the limit as far as they are concerned. Look here, Barnard. Do you think you three can get me into a boat to-night and row down to theBronx City? I'd give myself up if only to turn the tables on that doublefaced Pengelly."
The bo'sun shook his head.
"Can't be done, sir," he replied. "Ten to one Pengelly would search her, and where would we be then? 'Sides, I've no liking to run the risk of shoving my head through a noose when there's a chance of steering clear of it. Never fear, sir; the hands'll be wanting you back in command afore long. Pengelly, he's got no hold on them. 'Sides, he's no deep-sea navigator. He's all right in home waters, I'll allow, but here——-"
Mr. Barnard concluded his opinion with an expressive gesture.
"And he knows little or nothing about submarine work," added Cain.
"He thinks he does, sir," said the bo'sun. "To hear him talk about what he can do with theAlertesubmerged, you'd think he'd been at it nearly all his life."
"I wouldn't care to trust him to take theAlertedown," declared Cain. "And I doubt whether there are others on board who would."
"Must be moving, sir," interrupted the bo'sun. "The boats are coming off from the beach. I'll sound some of the hands. There ought to be enough of us to scupper that skunk Pengelly, but it's no use trying to talk sense to them while they're three sheets in the wind."
As soon as the new pirate captain came over the side, he gave orders for the boats to be hoisted and watches set for the night, explaining that the latter precaution was necessary owing to the possibility of the ship swinging on to the mud when the tide changed. He then had Cain taken below andplaced in the compartment previously occupied by Jasper Chamfer. The ex-skipper's bonds were removed, food and drink were placed in his cell, together with a mattress and bedding.
Pengelly was considerably anxious concerning his treatment of Cain. He feared him even though the late skipper was safely under lock and key. There was always a chance of the hands turning against him, Pengelly, and demanding that Cain should again assume command. While the deciding factor that prompted Pengelly to keep his captive on board was the fact that Cain alone knew how to control theAlertewhen submerged.
At dawn the hands were turned out and piped to breakfast. Most of them had slept off the brutish effect of unlimited quantities of rum. One or two were in a happy state, others inclined to be quarrelsome and pugnacious. But on the whole they were in fair possession of their faculties and were only too ready to get under way.
As soon as the motors were started up and the anchor out, theAlertewas headed down-stream, Pengelly being on the bridge and Marchant, the gunner, conning the ship from the bows as she threaded her way down the intricate and tortuous channel.
Presently Pengelly leant over the bridge-rails.
"Mr. Barnard," he exclaimed, loud enough for the watch on deck to hear. "Bring up the prisoner, and place him under the poop in charge of a couple of hands. Take all precautions. I hold you responsible for his safe custody."
Taking Davidge and Cross, the men who hadsignified their readiness to stand-by the ex-captain, the bo'sun went below and unlocked the door of Cain's cell.
"My orders are to take you on deck, Cap'n Cain," he announced. "S'pose you don't want to jump overboard?"
"Not under present conditions," replied the pirate.
"Nor to give any trouble?"
"There'll be enough before long, without my having to cause any," rejoined Cain grimly. "Why do you ask?"
"Pengelly's orders were that I'm responsible for you," replied Barnard. "I must lash your hands, sir. A mere matter of form. I won't give your wrists a tight nip, and if anything happens as renders it necessary, sir, I'll set you free in a brace o' shakes."
"That's all right, Barnard," said the ex-captain reassuringly. "I won't kick; for the present I'll knuckle under."
Meekly he submitted to have his wrists secured behind his back, then preceded by Davidge and followed by Cross, with the bo'sun bringing up the rear, Cain made his way to the conning-tower hatchway.
Pengelly watched him furtively. Cain gave no glance in the direction of the bridge. Several of the men on deck stood to attention, a compliment that Pengelly did not fail to notice. None of the hands paid that mark of deference to him, he recalled.
At that moment theAlertewas rounding the lastbend in the river between her and the spot where theBronx Cityhad been run aground.
Suddenly Marchant shouted:
"She's sheered off, by thunder!"
A few seconds later Pengelly had an uninterrupted view of the next reach. Only too true was the gunner's announcement. Not only had theBronx Citygot afloat; she was no longer in the river, nor in the spacious Bahia Arenas.
"That's kippered the contract," growled Marchant, who had abandoned his post for'ard and had gained the bridge. "We ought to have scuppered her. She'll report us and there'll be a swarm of light cruisers and destroyers after us in less than no time."
"She can't use her wireless," said Pengelly.
"Never said she could," retorted the gunner. "She'll speak the first ship she meets and get her to use her wireless. There'll be French cruisers waitin' for us off the Senegal and the south'ard, an' Spaniards up the coast—British destroyers, too, I guess. An' we can't bust across to South America—we ain't got enough oil."
"What do you propose, then?" asked Pengelly helplessly.
"Propose?" echoed the gunner contemptuously. "Propose—ain't you supposed to be the skipper? If you don't know what's to be done, who does? Cain, of course; you'd best ask him."
The ex-captain on his way aft heard the dialogue. He shrugged his shoulders and looked meaningly at the bo'sun.
"Pengelly'll part brass rags with every one on board afore very long, sir," whispered Barnard.
TheAlertewas now ploughing across the bay. The sandy island enclosing the mouth of the anchorage effectually concealed the open sea from sight, although in a short time the entrance would afford an almost interrupted view of the offing. Still, Pengelly gave no indication of the course he proposed to pursue.
Descending from the bridge, the gunner gathered several of the hands round him. Ignoring the new captain entirely, Marchant pointed out the additional risks they were running by reason of the escape of theBronx City.
"Cap'n Cain's our man," declared one of the hands.
"No, he isn't," retorted the gunner. "He ought to be, I admit. That horse-marine on the bridge there ain't good for nothin'. But if Cain gets the upper hand, then some of us are in for a rough time. No, our best plan is to go in chase of theBronx Cityand overhaul her afore she gets a chance to speak another craft."
"And then——?" asked one of the men.
"Then," continued the gunner, "we'll nab her, take all necessary precautions with her crew, abandon theAlerteand carry the Bronx City across to Brazil. There's no need to bring her into port. We'll scuttle her and take to the boats, pitch a yarn to the British Consul an' get sent home as shipwrecked mariners. How's that?"
The suggestion met with acclamation. Marchant reascended the bridge ladder.
"This ain't a one-man show, Mr. Pengelly," he said meaningly. "It's the wish of the hands that we recapture theBronx Cityafore she lets the cat out of the bag."
"Very good," agreed Pengelly.