"When do we take over, sir?" inquired Villiers.
The reply came sharp and to the point.
"From now," replied Sir Hugh. "In Claverhouse's case, I understand, he will have to give in his resignation. There's one more point. In addition to board and quarters—you'll be regarded as members of the establishment—there will be an amount of two guineas a week to each of the syndicate until we leave England. That will be as soon as possible, but it would hardly be fair to expect you to hang on here without some slight remuneration. Now let's be going."
The four men made their way to the garage, where Claverhouse showed Villiers how to manage the baronet's car, which was of a type that the R.N.V.R. man knew intimately. Then, having "started up", Claverhouse boarded the "Odouresque" with Beverley as his companion, while Sir Hugh and Villiers seated themselves in the other.
The journey to Southampton was performed at strictly moderate speed, and nothing unusual occurred. Villiers led the way, the powerful "Odouresque" following a hundred yards behind at a pace that seemed a painful crawl to the road-hogging Alec.
Just before the Bargate, Claverhouse took a side-road in order to return the car to the Odouresque Co., Ltd., leaving Villiers to take the head of the syndicate to Richborough Chambers.
It was an intricate piece of work to negotiate the ancient and narrow gateway that spans Southampton's principal street. The road was not only greasy, and had tram lines on it, but there was a slight descent to the Bargate itself. Here stood a policeman regulating the traffic, since it was possible for vehicles to pass only in one direction at a time.
The traffic was passing in the right direction as Villiers approached. Just ahead was a tramcar, while following the motor—he could see that by means of the reflector—was a petrol-driven dray with three or four men sitting on the otherwise empty body.
The tramcar emerged from under the arch, but just as Villiers was immediately under the gate a cyclist, disregarding the policeman's upraised arm, dashed headlong towards the front of Villiers' car.
Not for one moment did the ex-officer lose his nerve. To swerve meant wrecking the car and possibly injuring or killing its occupants.
He applied both brakes, but the metal-shod tyres slithered on the greasy tramlines. The next instant the impact occurred.
It was the cycle that bore the brunt of the collision. Its rider, with considerable dexterity, had dismounted, and leaping into safety had left his machine to meet destruction. The dray, pulling up, filled almost the whole of the archway, with its bonnet within a couple of inches of the tail of the car.
Within a few seconds a crowd had collected. The traffic was held up while the policeman, note-book in hand, was taking particulars of the accident.
"Take this," whispered the baronet, pushing a small blue-covered case into Villiers' hand. "It's my driving licence."
"Have you a licence, sir?" inquired the policeman
"I have," replied Villiers truthfully. "Here it is."
The guardian of the law was visibly impressed by the name.
"Very good, sir," he said saluting. "Merely a matter of form. I don't think you'll hear anything further about the accident. The cyclist was entirely in the wrong."
"Punctual to the minute," remarked Sir Hugh, as the car drew up in front of Richborough Chambers. "Hallo! Where's that attaché-case?"
It had vanished. Thinking perhaps that the sudden application of the brakes had jerked it under the seat, the baronet made a comprehensive search, but without result.
"Rotten luck," commented Villiers.
"Might have been worse," rejoined Sir Hugh oracularly. "Let's get in and see what's doing. The commissionaire will give an eye to the car."
He led the way to a large room on the ground floor. From the adjoining room came the subdued hum of voices.
"Adventure aspirants," remarked Sir Hugh, nodding his head in the direction whence the sounds came. "You'll be my secretarypro tem., Villiers. Cast your eye over these letters and see if you recognize any of the writers."
He handed Villiers a bundle of about thirty envelopes.
"I know three of these names," replied Jack, after scanning the contents of the communications. "Merridew, O'Loghlin, and Fontayne."
"Anything detrimental?"
"To the contrary," replied Villiers.
"Good! We'll see them first. But one moment, I want an advertisement drafted, something to this effect:—'Lost from car, between Winchester and Southampton, attaché-case, containing papers of no value except to owner—no, say owners. Finder will be liberally rewarded on returning same.' That ought to fetch 'em."
"Is the loss a very serious matter," asked Villiers.
"To someone," replied Harborough. "The case wasn't lost, it was stolen!"
"Stolen?" repeated Jack incredulously.
"Precisely," continued the baronet. "But I'll go into the matter with you later. Now let's interview Messrs. Merridew and Co."
The three ex-officers were considerably surprised when Jack Villiers entered the room where they were waiting, and asked them to "come this way".
"Something good on, old man?" inquired O'Loghlin. "Sure it is if you've got a finger in the pie."
Villiers was non-committal. He did not like the responsibility of advising his former comrades on this particular point.
But in less than five minutes the trio had "signed on", and were told to report at Thalassa Towers at eleven on the following morning.
The next applicant was an R.N.R. officer, Swaine by name, whose chief qualification lay in the fact that he had been employed by a salvage company and was an experienced diver.
"I should think there are plenty of openings for you in England," remarked Harborough.
"So there are, sir," replied Swaine, pulling out a bunch of letters from his pocket. "I've half a dozen jobs to go to in the salvage line, but I've seen enough of the North Sea and the English Channel the last four years. Somewhere in the Pacific would suit me, although you didn't say where, sir. S'long as it's not off Vladivostok, the Behring Straits, or south of the Chloe Archipelago, I'm on it."
The selection business proceeded apace. Two men were "turned down" politely, for Harborough knew what he wanted and meant to get it. He was a shrewd judge of human nature. Another applicant "hedged", tried to be funny by asking irrelevant questions, and, remarking that he wasn't jolly well going to pay to work and chuck good quids away, put on his hat and departed.
The last to be interviewed was a short, small-featured youngster with a very mild voice and manner, who blushed hotly when spoken to and showed considerable hesitation in framing his words. He seemed keen, but Villiers, looking on, felt certain that the youth wouldn't come up to the standard.
"What's your Service experience, my lad?" asked Sir Hugh. "You've forgotten to mention that in your letter."
For answer the youth handed in a sheet of paper—his record of service. Amongst other items it was noted that he was a flying-officer, held the M.C. with bar, and had been twice mentioned in dispatches for brilliant reconnaissance work over the enemy lines and for engaging and destroying three hostile machines. His "Protection Certificate" left no doubt as to the identity of the modest aerial warrior.
"Still keen on flying, Mr. Trevear?"
"Rather," replied the ex-airman with a sudden and unexpected burst of enthusiasm. "I wanted to stay in the R.A.F., but it was no go. Then I applied for a post as pilot at a civilian flying-school, but up to now I've heard nothing."
"Do you know the 'Cormorant' sea-plane?"
"Heard of it, sir," was the reply. "My buses were mono-airplanes, but I think I'd cotton on to a seaplane with very little difficulty."
"Good enough," exclaimed Harborough. "A stout heart goes a long way. Willing to sign on, on the terms I mentioned?"
"Rather," replied the now eager youth.
"That's the lot," commented Sir Hugh, when Villiers and the baronet found themselves alone. "Quite a representative crush, eh? I think they'll shape all right. Now we'll pack up, Beverley and Claverhouse, and get back. There's plenty to be done in the next fortnight."
"At this stage of the proceedings, gentlemen," began Sir Hugh. "I think it time to reveal all I know concerning theFusi Yamaand her cargo of sunken gold."
It was the first time that the whole of the members of the Salvage Syndicate had assembled at Thalassa Towers, and what might be termed a meeting of the Board was in progress.
The scene was the smoking-room, in which a roaring fire was blazing on the hearth, for the autumn morning was decidedly chilly. On the oaken table, and held down by four leaden weights, was an Admiralty Chart of a portion of the Pacific.
"TheFusi Yama, a vessel of 4500 tons, was, you may remember," continued the baronet, "sold by a Japanese firm to a British shipping concern at Shanghai. There was rather a fuss made about it at the time, because in shipping circles it was regarded as somewhat significant that Japan had entered into commercial maritime competition to such an extent that she could build and engine vessels and sell them to a nation that hitherto held the palm for ship-construction.
"This was just before the war, and theFusi Yama'sfirst voyage under the British flag was from Chi-fu to Liverpool—but the voyage was never completed in the manner intended. Her cargo consisted of cotton and silk and specie and bullion to the value of a million and a half.
"Strictly speaking, the bullion and specie ought to have been sent by a regular mail-steamer, but rumours were in the air of trouble with Germany, and the consigners decided that a steamer running off the recognized route stood a better chance of getting clear of the Pacific than a liner, for there was then a powerful German cruiser-squadron based at Kiao Chau.
"However, theFusi Yamaand her cargo were fully insured, she was classed A1 at Lloyd's, had an experienced and capable skipper, so the underwriters thought they'd struck oil, so to speak.
"On the 2nd August, 1914, theFusi Yamaleft Chi-fu; on the 9th she was captured by the German cruiserNürnburg, but not before her masts were knocked away by shell-fire. You fellows know perfectly well how frequently the Hun got to know of our movements, so, looking back, it was not surprising to learn that theFusi Yamahad been shadowed from the moment she left port. Nor is it when I tell you that I have good reason to believe that the Huns are after that gold too."
A murmur of suppressed excitement ran round the room. Interest in the scheme, already keen, rose to fever-heat. There was a chance, then, of "coming up against Fritz" again, not with steel or bullet but in a contest of wits and skill, and with the almost certainty of a lavish display of low-down trickery on the side of their opponents.
"Then," continued Harborough, "the officers and crew of the captured vessel were transferred to theNürnburg, a prize-crew was placed on board theFusi Yama, and the two vessels steamed eastwards. Three days afterwards they fell in with a three-masted Yankee schooner bound from Singapore to 'Frisco. Arrangements were made with the skipper to take off theFusi Yama'screw. In those days the Huns in the Pacific treated their prisoners well. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt to say that they were fairly straight as Huns go, but it may have been that they knew they were in a tight corner, and until they were out of it they had to behave decently.
"Shortly after that theNürnburgjoined the rest of von Spee's squadron, but without theFusi Yama. It was naturally concluded that the Huns had removed her valuable cargo and, finding her slow speed a hindrance, had scuttled her.
"At any rate the million and a half had vanished. The under-writers paid up as cheerfully as they could, and wrote off theFusi Yamaas a total constructive loss.
"Now this is where the affair has a personal note. Here let me remark that I bind no one to secrecy over the matter, nor do I make any attempt to do so; but I would like to point out that not only your own but your comrades' interests will be at stake if, even incautiously, you discuss the matter with outside friends or strangers.
"There was on board theFusi Yamaa man named Williams, whom I knew when I was down on my luck in Manitoba. There was a bit of a scrap in camp, and he said I'd done him a good turn. Incidentally, his home in England—or birthplace rather—was close to mine.
"Williams was a dare-devil sort of fellow, and when the crew of theFusi Yamawere placed on board theNürnburghe had the audacity to disguise himself as a Chinaman, with the result that he was retained by the Huns as a servant. I expect he played up to that, but it was a risky thing to do, although he certainly had features of a Mongolian type. He wore a false pigtail, which might have been fatal to him had Fritz taken it into his head to pull that. They did the next best thing; they cut it off, which saved Williams from further anxiety on that score.
"All the time he was keeping his eye on the bullion, so to speak.
"Then a Jap squadron got on von Spee's track and hustled him along. TheNürnburghad taken her prize into an unfrequented lagoon in the Marshall Archipelago, and was preparing to transfer the gold when von Spee heard that not only the Jap squadron but the Australian warships were converging on him.
"So theFusi Yamawas hurriedly scuttled in the lagoon in about fifteen fathoms, with the bullion and specie in her strong-room. Williams was the only human being, except theNürnburg'screw, who saw the deed done, and he made good use of his eyes and wits.
"Having found out what he wanted, Williams looked out for an opportunity to part company. It was no easy matter, and not until 14th September, when von Spee's squadron was lying in Talcahuano Harbour, did the supposed Chink succeed in getting ashore.
"On 1st November von Spee's vessels sunk theGood HopeandMonmouthin action off the Chilian coast, and about six weeks later the German squadron was destroyed off the Falklands, so had the gold been placed on board theNürnburgwe should not be sitting in this room to-day. In my opinion Sturdee's action and the Zeebrugge business were the two smartest bits of work the British Navy ever did during the war."
"I saw von Spee's squadron," remarked Merridew. "I was only seventeen then, and our home was at Port Stanley. A fellow couldn't help feeling sorry for von Spee, even though he was a Hun. His ships came up quite unsuspectingly to find the old battle-shipCanopuslobbing 12-inch shells at them over the arm of the harbour. Von Spee knew his guns could outrange hers, so he held on. Then he had the shock of his life when he saw tripod masts coming round the corner. He legged it, but it was like a rat trying to get away from a terrier. There were survivors from theNürnburg."
"Yes," agreed the baronet, "there were. We'll hear about some of them, I fancy. But to get back to friend Williams. Apparently he had a sticky time in Chile, for he was eleven months in hospital at Valparaiso. Then he worked his passage in a Yankee barque to 'Frisco, made his way across the States, and arrived in New York just about the time when the Huns started their unrestricted U-boat campaign. Signing on on board a British tramp, Williams found that once more his luck was out, for three hundred and fifty miles west of the Irish coast the tramp was torpedoed, and the survivors spent sixty hours in an open boat in heavy seas before being rescued.
"By a curious coincidence I was patrolling-officer at Falmouth when Williams was brought ashore from a 'P-boat'. I didn't recognize him at first, and no wonder; but he spotted me all right. That was soon after my brother's death, so when Williams was able to be moved I sent him here, but I knew he was done for.
"I saw him again when I was on leave, and it was then that he told me the story of theFusi Yama'sgold, and a week later he died. He left me certain papers and a rough chart showing the lagoon and the approaches. These I kept in the attaché-case which was stolen three days ago."
"Will that affect the expedition?" asked Beverley.
"Only to this extent, I believe," replied Sir Hugh. "We'll have to hurry up and get a move on. This brings me to speak of the opposition show. At present I'm rather hazy concerning the head of the rival party, but I have no hesitation in saying that we are up against a tough proposition. To the best of my belief the directing spirit is a fellow called Kristian Borgen."
"A Hun?" asked Claverhouse eagerly.
"Probably," replied Harborough. "Although just now he pretends he's a Swede. From guarded inquiries that I made at the Foreign Office I find that his papers are in order and that he's a native of Stockholm. If he isn't a Hun, he's probably a pro-German. Most Swedes are or were, because their country is practically contiguous to Germany and also because of the Huns' propaganda in Sweden during the war. Fear of her old enemy, Russia, also made her inclined towards Germany. But if Kristian Borgen is a Swede, he's plenty of Hun pals, amongst them some of the survivors of theNürnburg."
"Where is the man?" asked Villiers.
"Here, in England," replied the baronet. "Actually in Southampton and taking steps to fit out a rival expedition. Of course as a Swede he is quite at liberty to do so; it is only if he can be proved to be a Hun that we can take action. Personally I like rivalry. It gives a zest to things, provided it is fair and above board, but there's something in the other organization that isn't, as we say in the Service, jonnick."
"Meaning that scrap on the Downs?" remarked Beverley.
"Yes, and the loss of the attaché-case," replied Harborough. "That alone is sufficient to let us know that Kristian Borgen—if my surmise is correct—means business."
"Sufficient, I think, to justify the case being reported to the police," said Claverhouse.
Sir Hugh shook his head.
"I wouldn't have people say that I brought in the police for the purpose of obtaining a free hand in theFusi Yamatreasure-hunt," declared Harborough. "In fact, the least we say about theFusi Yamafor the present the better."
"But why does the fellow come to England to fit out an expedition?" inquired Swaine.
"I rather wondered why he did," replied Sir Hugh. "You know that Scandinavia has been buying hundreds of vessels of various tonnage from us, and Borgen is admittedly an agent for their disposal. He thinks, probably, that he can equip a ship here at less cost and without exciting suspicion. At the same time he can keep an eye on us. Of course I may be totally wrong in my surmise, but this I know: there's dirty work going on, and we'll have to keep our weather eye lifting. So much for that. Now comes another point: the question of a vessel and her equipment."
"Steam or petrol?" asked Fontayne, who in pre-war days had been articled to a marine engineer.
"Neither," replied Harborough. "Coal nowadays is scarce and expensive, especially abroad. Petrol is dangerous: any of you fellows who served on M.L.'s will endorse that statement. No, I'm pinning my faith on heavy oil-engines with hot bulb ignition. They are economical, reliable and fairly simple. I'm also looking for a vessel that has a moderate sail-plan. Now, what do you think of these?"
From a drawer of a pedestal desk the baronet produced a bundle of plans and specifications and placed them on the table.
"Genuine tramp steamers are out of the question," he observed. "The present-day price is much too stiff. Here is a selection of yachts, some returned from Government service, others placed on the sale-list by their owners, who find that the pastime is too expensive for them and must needs leave them to the New Rich. Now, here's theTitania, auxiliary schooner, 260 tons registered and 409 tons Thames measurement, two six-cylinder engines giving her an approximate speed of twelve knots."
"That's not much of a speed," said Villiers.
"No, not compared with the type of vessel that you and I have been accustomed to," agreed Harborough. "Still twelve knots is not to be sneezed at. It is an economical speed. For every additional knot you would require horse-power rising by leaps and bounds and consequently more fuel-space than we can afford. And, of course, with high-speed engines the risk of mechanical breakdowns is higher than with slow-running motors, and, after all, the main object is to get to the Pacific with the least delay. Hence reliability is the thing. The vessel, according to the agent's glowing account, has cruised extensively, including voyages to the West Indies and the Mediterranean."
"Have you seen her?" asked O'Loghlin.
"No, but I propose doing so to-morrow," replied Harborough. "She's lying at Southampton in one of the yards on the Itchen. By the by, does any one here understand heavy oil-engines?"
"I do a bit," replied O'Loghlin. "I had a theoretical course, and during the war I put in three months on the kite-balloon barges. That was in the old R.N.A.S. days."
"All right," concluded Harborough. "That's settled. You, Villiers, had better come along too. Three are quite enough for the selection board."
"I say, Sir Hugh is a thundering good sort, old man," observed Beverley.
"Only just found that out, my dear old thing," rejoined Villiers. "What's the wheeze now?" The two chums were "turning in". They shared a room in Thalassa Towers, the rest of the members of the expedition being accommodated in twos and threes in the spacious old building. The appropriation of "cabins", as they preferred to call them, showed Harborough's tact, the various members being invited to share their sleeping-quarters with their special chums.
Claverhouse had elected to share a room with little Trevear on the score that both were ex-members of that modern and glorious branch of the service—the Royal Air Force. There they could talk unlimited "shop ", and exchange reminiscences without feeling that the a-naval men were being "bored stiff" with matters appertaining to aerial navigation.
"The wheeze," replied Beverley, "concerns my young brother, Dick. Sir Hugh suggested that I brought him along. He'd be handy," he added in extenuation.
"Possibly," replied Villiers. "But if this is going to be a risky business, is it fair on the lad? And, again, won't it cut into his education?"
"We went into those questions," said Bobby. "As regards risk, everything in life is a risk, isn't it? and, given reasonable precautions, there appears to be little reason for anxiety on that score. After all, we're on a cruise, not fighting Huns and doing a one-step over mine-fields. And, concerning his education, I agreed with Harborough that travel in itself is an education, and there is no reason why Dick shouldn't keep up his studies. As a further inducement Sir Hugh promised that whatever way the results of the expedition went, he'd be responsible for giving Dick a twelvemonth's course for Sandhurst."
"Jolly decent of him," remarked Villiers. "I wonder why he's going to all this trouble. He doesn't know Dick."
"No," replied Beverley, "he doesn't. Dick's not a bad sort," he added, which was the highest tribute Bobby dared pay his brother before other people. Villiers grunted sleepily.
"In?" he inquired laconically, as he groped for the lanyard attached to the electric-light switch—a device whereby he could turn off the light without getting out of his cot. "My word! It's blowing. Glad I'm not on an M.L. in the North Sea to-night."
"Hold on a minute," exclaimed Beverley. "I wanted to ask you something. Is Harborough very worried about that stolen attaché-case?"
"I don't know," replied Villiers. "I expect he is, but he doesn't say much."
"There are the plans and charts relating to theFusi Yamain it, aren't there?"
"B'lieve so," admitted Villiers. "Makes things a bit complicated. However, I'll back Sir Hugh against Borgen any old time. Good night."
Next morning, according to previous arrangements, Harborough, Villiers, and O'Loghlin motored to Southampton to inspect theTitania.
At first sight the yacht did not convey a favourable impression. She had only recently turned from Admiralty service, and looked very dilapidated in her garb of grey, striped with innumerable rust-stains. She was lying in a mud-berth, and, the tide being low, a considerable part of her weed- and barnacle-covered bottom showed above the mud. Her tapering pole-masts, once resplendent in all the glories of varnish, were coated with battle-ship grey paint; her standing rigging was in a deplorable condition. An unsightly deck-house built above the original saloon added to the picture of neglect, for most of the sheet-glass panes were broken. In her present state no man intent upon the joys of yachting would have looked at her twice.
But Harborough was nothing if not practical. Appearance mattered little to him. In that neglected craft he saw seaworthiness and utility. Paint and varnish might make a crank vessel smart, but they would never make her seaworthy, but theTitania, despite her woebegone appearance, gave indications of being a good, all-round, hard-weather boat.
"A fairly flat bilge and a clean run aft," commented Sir Hugh. "If it came to a push she'd take hard ground pretty comfortably. Let's get aboard and see what she looks like 'tween decks."
TheTitaniawas not a modern vessel by any means. Her schooner bow and rather long counter proclaimed her as a late Victorian. As a matter of fact her papers showed that she had been built at Dumbarton in 1900. The heavy oil-engines were fairly recent additions, or rather a substitute for the triple-expansion engines with which she was supplied immediately following her launch.
She was built of steel with teak decks, and twenty years had had very little effect upon her structure. Apparently she had been used for mine-laying during the war, for a steel trough had been built aft projecting a couple of feet over her counter. Amidships were two motor-driven winches, also added for war purposes, and evidently not considered worth removing before she was handed back from service. Right for'ard, in addition to the hand-operated capstan, was a powerful steam-capstan, the engine and oil-fed boiler of which were placed in the fo'c'sle.
"Rather cuts up the crew-space," commented Sir Hugh. "Fortunately, that doesn't affect us. But these capstans and winches are the very thing. What do you make of them, O'Loghlin?"
The engineering expert plunged into a maze of technical detail. Harborough listened as if he enjoyed it, but whether he did was a debatable point.
"But will they work, do you think?" he inquired at last.
"Give me a week on them and they'll work," replied O'Loghlin confidently.
The original engine-room had been gutted, and had been used as a hold, although, when the yacht had been converted from steam to heavy oil, the engine-space had been made into an additional saloon with store-space below. The present propelling-machinery was well aft, and in spite of their rusty condition the twin-motors were in serviceable order. Not only were the original oil-tanks left, but there were two large tanks, capable of taking a thousand gallons of fuel, installed immediately for'ard of the engine-room.
"She's just the thing for an ocean voyage," declared Harborough. "Don't you think so, Villiers?"
"Economical and easily handled, I should say," replied Jack. "I believe she'd give a good account of herself in a seaway."
"Let's look at the accommodation aft," said Sir Hugh. "We've to berth twenty without undue crowding, remember."
They made their way to the main saloon, which was lighted solely by skylights during the day. It was in a deplorable state, the teak and mahogany fittings being almost destitute of varnish and showing signs of not only hard but rough usage. Hardly a glass panel remained.
"Someone's been turning the ship into a bear-garden," commented Villiers.
"Fortunately, we're not sybarites," added Harborough. "Comfort's the main thing. I don't suppose the absence of looking-glass panels on the wall will worry us. She seems fairly dry, I think."
"Yes," agreed Jack. "Her decks are well laid, and that's a lot to be thankful for. Haven't spotted a sign of moisture anywhere below."
Opening out of the saloon were eight cabins, four on either side, each lighted by a port, which, when closed, was fitted with a glass scuttle. From the saloon an alley-way ran right aft to a spacious cabin, extending the extreme width of the ship under the poop. Four cabins large enough for double berths opened out of the alley-way.
"She's like a young liner," commented Harborough. "Plenty of room for the whole crowd of us. Well, that's about all. The sails and the rest of the inventory are in the store. Now, candidly, what do you think of her? Of course, she'll want a lot of refitting."
"She's just the thing, I think," declared Villiers.
"Yes," corroborated O'Loghlin. "There's precious little to find fault with the engines, as far as I can see."
"As regards the refitting," continued Villiers, "we can do most of that ourselves. We are all of us handy men. The only difficulty is the docking."
"That will have to be done by professional hands," said the baronet. "If we purchase theTitania, docking and coating the bottom with anti-fouling will be the first job. Right-o; let's call on the agent and prepare to haggle over terms."
The yacht's agent received them without emotion. He was so dubious about selling the vessel, even when there was a "boom" in shipping, that he made no attempt to sing the praises of the neglected maiden. He had had dozens of prospective purchasers during the recent period following the yacht's release from Admiralty service, and every one had gone away without attempting to close with the deal.
"Well, Mr. Strangeways," began Sir Hugh, "you've brought us down here to see a most disreputable old tub."
The agent shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
"You asked for particulars, sir, and we sent them," he replied. "She's not like theAsteriaand theFalala, both of which are on our books if you wish to inspect. But consider the price asked for theTitania—a mere song."
"That's what I am considering," agreed Sir Hugh, grimly. "By the time she's fitted out, taking into consideration present-day prices of labour and material, she'll cost a small fortune. And even then she won't be a modern vessel by any means. No, sorry to trouble you, but I'm afraid there's nothing doing."
"Perhaps, sir," said Mr. Strangeways, metaphorically grasping at the last straw, "you might care to make an offer?"
"My price is fifteen hundred," declared the baronet promptly. "Not a penny more."
"Impossible, my dear sir," protested the agent, raising his hands in mock dismay.
"Sorry, good morning," said Harborough. "Come along, you fellows; we'll be late for lunch if we don't get a move on."
For the next two days Sir Hugh lay low; but he was far from inactive. As for the agent, he was simply bombarded with applications to inspect the dilapidatedTitania, for during those two days fifteen individuals called in person, and in every case they either declared bluntly that they wouldn't touch the yacht at any price or else offered various sums none of which exceeded thirteen hundred and fifty pounds. Nor did they think fit to enlighten the now thoroughly harassed Mr. Strangeways with the information that they were members of a syndicate of which Sir Hugh Harborough was the head.
And since the reserve price of theTitaniawas £1450, and Mr. Strangeways had a reason for disposing of her promptly in order to close an account with her present owner, Sir Hugh evinced no untoward surprise when he received a prepaid wire:
"Does offer £1500 forTitaniastill hold good? If so, will accept."
Within three hours of the receipt of the telegram the "Fusi Yama Syndicate" was in possession of sixty-four sixty-fourths shares of the yachtTitania.
During the next three weeks there was plenty of work for all hands. It was hard work, too; but everyone stuck to it grimly and determinedly in spite of aching muscles, blistered hands, and a variety of small ailments consequent upon unaccustomed handling of white-lead, paint, tar, pitch, and sooji-mooji.
The latter was unanimously voted a tough proposition. Composed principally of caustic soda, it is the shell-back's sheet anchor where old paint has to be removed. The amateur crew of theTitaniafound that it removed other things as well—for it burnt into their fingers, had a decided tendency towards destroying their clothes, and not infrequently spoiled their foot-gear.
There were other minor casualties. Griffiths, an ex-R.E. officer, and one of the two representatives of the British Army amongst theTitania'sship's company, found by practical experience that a marline-spike has a sharp point, and that even when dropped from a height of a couple of feet can rightly claim to be best man in an encounter with a human toe. Merridew, too, discovered, to his extreme physical inconvenience, that there are two ways of using an adze—the right and the wrong. Subsequent reflection on the part of the victim resulted in a decision that there was even a better way of dealing with adzes—to leave them severely alone.
Also the amount of brain-work required to equip and provision the ship was not small. Nothing superfluous was to be taken—only the absolute essentials. In the old days, "when there was a war on", procuring stores for M.L.'s was a comparatively simple matter. The officer in charge signed a "demand note" for a quantity in excess of what he actually required, taking this step to safeguard himself against the parsimony of an official known as a Naval Stores Officer, who had a nasty habit of cutting down the demands. In the case of theTitania'sequipment this would have been a financial disaster. Each man knew in effect it was his own money that he was laying out and acted accordingly.
Within eight days of the purchase theTitaniawas docked, cleaned, and "compoed", undocked and berthed alongside a wharf. This had been done by the yacht-yard hands, but Harborough and his "merry buccaneers", as he generally referred to them, were toiling like galley-slaves.
The grey, rust-stained sides had been scraped and had been given two out of a final three coats of white paint, and white paint at the present time costs money. But it was money well laid out. The health and comfort of the ship's company, as the yacht sweltered in the Tropics, depended largely upon the almost non-absorbing properties of white paint to the terrific glare of the sun.
The grimy decks were scraped and then scrubbed with wet sand; the dull varnish on the teak-work was removed and the bare wood given three coats of copal. The masts were rubbed down and painted a pale-buff colour, and the whole of the standing and running rigging renewed. Fortunately, the sails were in excellent condition.
"What arms are we taking?" asked Villiers.
"Nothing very formidable," replied Harborough, who, at his own request, was no longer addressed as Sir Hugh by his fellow adventurers. "I don't anticipate any scrapping. Bloodthirsty cannibals are back numbers in the part of the Pacific we are making for, and I don't suppose that our rival treasure-hunters will go to the extent of armed aggression."
"Still, we ought to be prepared for emergencies," rejoined Villiers. "There's virtue in the barrel of a Maxim gun."
Harborough shook his head.
"Not always," he replied. "When there's a hot-headed fellow fingering the firing-button, for instance. No, no; we'll dispense with a Maxim or a Lewis. A couple of rifles will be useful, perhaps, and half a dozen automatic pistols. I'll take a dozen 12-bore shot guns. It's remarkable what a deterrent a charge of small shot can be. Verey Lights and rockets we'll take. You might see to the ship's armoury. Most of the guns, the rifles, and two automatic pistols are already at Thalassa Towers. Bring them down next time you have room in the car. Oh, by the by, you might read this."
He handed Villiers a long blue envelope. Within was a communication from the underwriters of s.s.Fusi Yamaagreeing to grant Sir Hugh Harborough the sole rights of salvage subject to a 5-per-cent royalty.
"Five per cent," exclaimed Harborough. "Evidently they think we're on a fool's errand. However, now everything is fair and above board. We are the legitimate firm; Borgen & Co. are mere interlopers."
"Talking about Borgen," observed Villiers, "just step aft a minute. See that tramp lying alongside Anstruther's Wharf? The one with the black, yellow, and blue funnel."
"Ay," assented Harborough. "Is she our rival?"
"I don't know—yet," replied Jack. "We haven't our intelligence Department in full working order at present. All I know—on the authority of the Yard Foreman—is that she's theGeier, one of Germany's surrendered mercantile fleet, and she's just been sold to a Swedish firm."
"And thence back to Germany," commented Harborough. "Verily the ways of our politicians passeth understanding. However, if Kristian Borgen has a finger in that pie we'll have to watch theGeier."
Villiers laughed.
image: 03_sandbagged.jpg
image: 03_sandbagged.jpg
[Illustration: SANDBAGGED]
[Illustration: SANDBAGGED]
"Shouldn't be surprised if theGeier'speople haven't been watching us pretty carefully for the last few days," he remarked. "Don't you think it would be as well if a couple of us slept on board in future? Several of the cabins are quite habitable."
"There's a night watchman," observed Harborough.
"Yes, for the whole of this yard," added Jack. "He can't be everywhere at once."
"Very good," agreed Harborough. "Pick out two of the crowd and warn 'em for sleeping aboard."
"I'll take the first week," volunteered Villiers. "Beverley will, too. And we may as well have Tommy on board."
Tommy was an Aberdeen terrier belonging to Sir Hugh—a sharp-faced, long-nosed little animal who seemed to be perpetually asleep with one eye open all the time.
"Good enough," agreed Harborough. "Seen O'Loghlin about? I want to speak to him about those diving-dresses."
Four more days passed—the days in strenuous activity, the nights in utter tranquillity. Villiers and Beverley found the new arrangement quite comfortable. They were afloat once more, even though theTitaniawas berthed alongside a wharf in a sheltered tidal river. During working-hours a "brow" or gangway gave access to the vessel, but when the working-party packed up, the brow was removed, and the only means of direct communication with the shore was a wire "Jacob's Ladder" that led to a long raft moored between theTitaniaand the jetty, whence a wooden ladder, its lower rungs slippery with weed as the tide fell, enabled access to the wharf.
It was Saturday evening. Manual work on board had been set aside to be resumed early on Monday morning. Beverley, who was beginning to feel the strain of long hours and hard toil, had turned in early. Villiers, with the small table of his cabin covered with technical books, was deep inNorrie's EpitomeandThe Nautical Almanac for1920.
"Yacht, ahoy!"
Jack heard the hail but did not stir. Calls of that sort were common, considering that there were half a dozen yachts, with hands living on board, lying in the tier out in the stream.
"Titania, ahoy!"
"For goodness sake why didn't you say so before?" exclaimed Villiers to himself. "Where's Tommy? Why didn't he bark, I wonder?"
Getting into his pilot-coat, for the night air blew coldly down the river and contrasted forcibly with the warm cabin, Villiers went on deck.
"Ahoy, there!" he exclaimed.
On the edge of the wharf stood a man with his back to the feeble gleam of a gas-lamp.
"Telegram for Harborough, yachtTitania," he announced. "Prepaid wire."
"Come aboard," said Jack.
"Sorry, sir," was the reply. "I'm a stranger to this sort of game. No hand at ladders, I'm not."
Considering the awkward means of gaining theTitania'sdeck, the man's objection was reasonable enough, so Villiers descended the wire-rope ladder, crossed the raft, and ascended the vertical steps. The tide had almost finished on the flood, and there were only a few rungs to scale.
"Prepaid, eh?" remarked Villiers. "All right. I have a pencil. Let's go under the gas-lamp."
The next instant a multitude of dazzling lights flashed before his eyes, and without a cry he pitched head-long on his face.