"Hear that noise? Sounds like an aeroplane overhead," exclaimed Branscombe.
It was high noon. TheDonibristlewas approximately five hundred miles nor'-west of the Sandwich Islands. The sky was clear and bright. Air and sea were shimmering under the powerful rays of the sun.
"Hanged if I can," replied Burgoyne, "I think you're mistaken, old son. It's hardly likely that a seaplane would be buzzing round over this part of the Pacific."
Nevertheless he craned his neck and gazed at the blue vault overhead. The two chums, off duty, were standing aft. Close to them Messrs. Tarrant and Miles were engaged in a heated argument over the merits and demerits of the products of a certain firm of tabloid drug manufacturers. Colonel and Mrs. Vivian were seated in canopied deck-chairs under the lee of one of the deck-houses. Captain Blair and the Chief Engineer were pacing to and fro on the starboard side of the deck, earnestly discussing a technical point in connection with the distilling plant. Hilda Vivian happened to be "listening in" in the wireless cabin, hearing vague sounds which Peter Mostyn assured her were time signals from a shore station on the Californian coast.
"What's that," sang out Tarrant, overhearing the Third Officer's remark. "Aeroplane—what?"
Presently at least a dozen pairs of eyes were scanning the sky, but without success.
"Can you hear it now?" asked Burgoyne.
"No, I can't," replied Branscombe bluntly, "but I swear I did just now."
"Would it be the dynamos you heard?" inquired Angus.
"No; aerial motor," declared the Fourth Officer firmly. "In fact," he added, "I believe I can hear it now."
"Ye maun hae a guid pair o' lugs," observed Angus caustically.
Branscombe said nothing more, but hurried on to the bridge. An inquiry of the Fifth Officer and the two quartermasters resulted in a negative reply. Nothing had been seen or heard of an aircraft of any description.
"Good job I didn't bet on it," remarked Philip, when he returned and reported the result of his inquiries. "But no one can prove I didn't hear it," he added, with a marked reluctance to admit defeat.
"I certainly heard a buzz right overhead," announced Colonel Vivian. "I rather pride myself on my hearing, but I'm hanged if I saw anything. Besides, if there were a seaplane so far out from land, wouldn't it have come down to within a few hundred feet and had a look at us?"
"I haven't seen an aeroplane for months," said Withers plaintively. "At one time, when I was running from Southampton to Cherbourg and Havre during the war, the sky was stiff with 'em. Hardly ever bothered to look up at the things. Now they're becoming novelties again. It would seem like old times to see a Handley-Page again."
Meanwhile Mostyn was continuing to give practical lessons to Hilda Vivian.
"What an extraordinary noise," exclaimed the girl, removing the receivers from her ears. "Much fainter than before."
Mostyn took up the ear-pieces. There was a call, but in a different wave-length. He was "standing-by" on the 600-metre wave. Rapidly adjusting the "Billi" condenser he failed to attain the desired result. Apparently the sending-out apparatus was of a totally different tune. That discovery puzzled him, since almost every ship and station keeps within the narrow limit of the 600-metre wave. Disconnecting the pin of the receiving-gear, and placing the jigger-switch on the first stop, he connected up the short-wave earth terminal. The sounds were of greater intensity but still fell short of the desired result. Deftly Mostyn manipulated the rack-and-pinion gear of the "Billi" until the signal became coherent.
Unconscious now of the girl's presence, Mostyn grasped a pencil and almost mechanically wrote the message that came through ethereal space. To her it conveyed nothing, being apparently a meaningless jumble of letters.
"SK—finished," announced Mostyn, then, again aware of Miss Vivian's presence, he continued. "Code message—they often send it in that form. I'll decode it straight away."
He tried with every code-book at his command, but without success. None of the recognized books afforded a clue. It might be just possible that Captain Blair would have a key in his possession.
"Sail on the starboard bow!" hailed the look-out man, just as the wireless operator dispatched a messenger to the Old Man.
At the hail Hilda left the wireless-room and went to the rail. Few ships had been sighted during the last two or three days, and her curiosity was aroused by the appearance of the stranger. Branscombe, who was standing near her, hastened to offer her a pair of binoculars, at the same time pointing to a small black object, surmounted by a blurr of smoke, on the horizon.
"What is the name of the ship?" asked the girl.
"Sorry, Miss Vivian," replied the Fourth Officer gravely, "but I'm not a thought reader. She'll probably make her number when she passes us."
TheDonibristlewas logging eleven and a half knots, and since the stranger was making eighteen or twenty it did not take long for the latter to become clearly visible to the naked eye. She was a light cruiser of about 4000 tons, with two funnels and two short masts. From the deck of theDonibristleit was seen that she carried a gun for'ard, and three on her starboard broadside, so it was safe to conclude that her principal armament consisted of eight 4- or 6-inch weapons. Right aft, and visible only when the superstructure no longer screened it, flew the White Ensign.
"What is she?" inquired Colonel Vivian.
"I can't tell yet," replied Captain Blair, who, having finished his conversation with the Chief, was making his way to the bridge with Mostyn's "chit" in his hand. "I don't even know her class. The navy's developed so many weird and hybrid types during the war, that it would puzzle Solomon to know t' other from which. Had them all at my finger-ends at one time. S'pose you don't recognize yonder cruiser, Mr. Burgoyne?"
"No, sir," replied the Third Officer, lowering his binoculars. "She hasn't even her name painted on her lifebuoys. Hello! Her bunting tossers are busy."
From the cruiser's bridge the International E.C. fluttered up to the signal yard-arm.
"That means 'What ship is that?'," explained Branscombe to Hilda. They had now crossed to where Colonel Vivian, Burgoyne, and several of the ship's officers off duty were standing.
"How interesting," muttered the girl. "What do we do now?"
"Make your number," replied Alwyn, loth to keep out of the conversation. "There it is: KSVT."
"That's not a number," objected Hilda.
"We call it a number," persisted the Third Officer. "Those four flags signify that we are the S.S.Donibristle, 6200 tons, registered at Newcastle-on-Tyne. Now they are making the next hoist—ATVH. That means Vancouver, our port of departure, and—by Jove, there's the ID."
Without waiting to give Hilda the interpretation of the two-flag signal, Burgoyne made a dash for the bridge, followed by Branscombe as a good second. Yet it was quite apparent to Colonel Vivian, his daughter, and Mr. Tarrant, that there was something of extreme gravity in that signal. Mrs. Vivian, being a little farther away, had not noticed the general exodus, while the remaining passenger—the drug drummer—showed no interest in the appearance of the cruiser.
Almost every officer and man on the deck of theDonibristleknew the significance of the signal. They had not served in the Outer Patrol during the Great War, when the examination of neutral merchantmen was an everyday occurrence, without learning to understand the peremptory command: "Heave-to instantly, or I will fire into you".
Such a mandate coming from a vessel flying the White Ensign was not to be treated with levity or contempt. Deeply puzzled, Captain Blair stepped to the engine-room telegraph and was about to ring for "Stop" when a startled voice—the First Officer's, although it was hardly recognizable—shouted:
"They're not bluejackets, sir; they're Chinks."
Just then the cruiser, which was bearing broad on theDonibristle'sstarboard beam, ported helm. Turning sixteen points, and moving half as fast again as the merchantman, she rounded the latter's stern and settled down on a parallel course at a distance of a cable's length on theDonibristle'sport side.
"Tell the operator to send out a general SOS call," ordered Captain Blair hurriedly, "add 'attacked by pirate' and give our position."
He gave a quick glance in the direction of the cruiser. She had now drawn slightly ahead, so that she overlapped theDonibristleby about half her length. Meanwhile she had diminished speed until both vessels were moving through the water at approximately the same rate.
Just then a man scrambled on to the cruiser's bridge-rail and held a pair of hand signal-flags at the "preparatory". Then, without further preamble he semaphored: "If you use wireless I sink you".
The Old Man bent his head and spoke through the engine-room speaking-tube.
"Mr. Angus," he said in level even tones, "can you give me an extra two knots?"
Apparently the reply was favourable, for the skipper replaced the whistle with a gesture of satisfaction.
"Get the passengers down below, Mr. Burgoyne," he added; "there'll be sparks flying in half a shake. Heave-to, indeed. I'll show 'em how I heave-to. Pass the word for the hands to take cover."
Alwyn hurried off the bridge. He had barely reached the foot of the ladder when the pirate, aware that their commands with reference to the wireless had been disobeyed, opened fire with one of the beam 4-inch guns.
At that extremely short range it was almost an impossibility to miss such an easy target. With a terrific crash the wireless cabin simply disappeared, while fragments of the shell killed the Chief Officer on the spot, severely wounded one of the quartermasters, and gashed Captain Blair's forehead from his right eyebrow to his right temple.
The Old Man staggered, fell against the binnacle, and slid struggling to the deck. Branscombe rushed to his aid, but before he could reach him the skipper regained his feet. Half-blinded with blood, and dazed by the concussion, his one thought was the safety of his ship.
With a bound the Old Man sprang to the wheel, thrust the dumbfounded helmsman aside, and rapidly manipulated the steam steering-gear until the helm was hard-a-starboard. As he felt the ship answer he became as cool and steady as a rock. Deliberately he "met" and steadied her, until her bows pointed almost at right angles to the pirate's beam.
It was an audacious manoeuvre. The iron-nerved, tough old skipper was about to ram his opponent and send the cruiser, with all her rascally crew, to the bottom of the Pacific.
When Alwyn reached that part of the deck where he had last seen the passengers he found it deserted. Miles, at the report of the cruiser's quick-firer, had bolted below. Young Tarrant, with the characteristic inquisitiveness that an Englishman often shows even in the most dangerous situations, had gone for'ard to investigate the result of the damage. Colonel Vivian, his daughter, and the steward were bending over the deck-chair on which Mrs. Vivian had been reclining. She was still reclining but in a very different condition, for as Burgoyne approached he heard the steward say:
"I can't do any more, sir. Weak heart... the sudden shock... no, sir, no sign of life. I'll have to be going. There's work for me to do up there." He indicated the bridge, where, between the gaping holes in the canvas of the bridge rails, could be seen prostrate writhing forms amidst the pungent eddying smoke. Grasping his first-aid outfit, the man ran along the deck, seemingly unmindful of the fact that more shells would soon be playing havoc with the devotedDonibristle.
The steward's words were only too true. The sudden and unexpected shock, when the cruiser dealt her cowardly blow, had deprived Mrs. Vivian of life. Never very strong, and suffering from a weak heart, she had died before either her husband or her daughter could get to her.
It was no time for expressions of regret. Alwyn's instructions were imperative. The passengers must be ordered below.
"As sharp as you can, Colonel Vivian," he said; "we don't know what that vessel will do next."
The colonel pointed to the deck-chair with its inanimate occupant. He was incapable of doing anything of a heavy nature by reason of his injured leg.
Alwyn glanced at Hilda. The girl understood and nodded silently. Raising the burdened chair they carried it down the companion-way, the colonel following as quickly as his crippled limb would allow.
"You'll be safe here, I think," he said, but in his mind he knew that there was no place on board the ship where immunity might be found from those powerful 4-inch shells. He could only hope that Providence would shield the gently-nurtured girl from those flying fragments of red-hot steel. "I must go on deck," he added. "I'll let you know when we're out of danger."
At the foot of the companion ladder he stopped and beckoned to the colonel.
"I may as well tell you," he said hurriedly, "the cruiser is a pirate, her crew mostly Chinese. She does two knots to our one. You'll understand?"
"I do," replied the colonel simply. He had faced peril and death many times, but never before had he done so with his wife and daughter.
"You know where Mostyn's cabin is," continued Burgoyne. "There are plenty of his things and I'm afraid he won't want them. Tell Miss Vivian to change into his clothes, cut her hair short, and disguise herself as much as she can. If it isn't necessary there's not much harm done; if it is—well, you know, sir."
The Third Officer gained the deck just as theDonibristlehad completed her turning manoeuvre and was steadying on her helm. His quick glance took in the situation at a glance.
"The Old Man's going to ram her, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "That's the stuff to give 'em."
"Lie down, sir!" shouted a voice. "Skipper's orders."
The warning came from one of a group of men prone upon the deck. Alwyn was quick to obey. He realized the result of a deadweight of 6000 tons crashing into the side of a stoutly-built steel cruiser.
Full length upon the quivering planks, for Angus had risen to the occasion and theDonibristle'sengines were pulsating harder than ever they had done before, Burgoyne could not resist the temptation to raise his head and watch the proceedings.
From his unusual point of vantage, for his eyes were only about eight inches above the deck, Burgoyne had the impression that he was looking at a cinematographic picture, as the light-grey hull of the pirate cruiser not only seemed to increase in size but also moved quickly from left to right.
"Now for it!" he thought, and braced himself anew to meet the shock.
But the impact never came. Without doubt the black-hearted villains who controlled the cruiser knew how to handle a vessel, for almost the moment theDonibristlestarboarded helm, the pirate craft began to forge ahead. Rapidly gathering speed, she contrived to elude the merchantman's bluff bows by a matter of a few feet. It was close enough to enable some of the former's crew to hurl a couple of bombs upon theDonibristle'sdeck, where they burst with little material effect, although the double explosion caused a momentary panic amongst the prostrate men in the vicinity.
Captain Blair had shot his bolt. He realized the fact. Another opportunity to ram his opponent would not occur. He could only attempt to seek safety in flight, and that, he knew, was a forlorn hope, owing to the vast difference in speed between the two ships.
Giving theDonibristlefull starboard helm until she heeled outwards a good fifteen degrees, the Old Man steadied her when she was heading in a totally different direction to that of her assailant. In addition she was dead in the eye of the wind, and the smoke pouring from her funnels, and from the three separate conflagrations on deck, served to put up a screen between her and the pirate. By the time the latter had turned in pursuit (she circled rapidly under the contrary action of her twin screws) theDonibristlehad gained a good two miles.
"She'll be winging us in a brace of shakes," declared Captain Blair, as the steward deftly bound lint over the Old Man's forehead. "Clear out of this, Barnes. You fellows too. She's out to cripple us, not to sink the old hooker. I'll carry on by myself."
The officers, quartermaster, and hands on the bridge had no option. They protested unavailingly. Captain Blair had a way of getting his orders carried out. Reluctantly they obeyed. They knew that the bridge would be the principal objective of the hostile guns, that it was doomed to destruction, and that the rest of the ship would come off lightly.
Burgoyne received the Old Man's order when he was half-way up the bridge ladder. Full of admiration for the grim, resolute figure of the wounded skipper, standing in solitude upon the shell-wrecked bridge, he turned and gained the deck.
A figure, crawling on hands and knees from underneath a pile of shattered, smouldering woodwork, attracted the Third Officer's attention. To his surprise he recognized Mostyn, the senior wireless officer Until that moment Burgoyne, like everyone who had seen the wireless cabin disappear with the explosion of the 4-inch shell, had taken it for granted that its occupant had been blown to pieces; but by one of those freaks of fate Mostyn had not only survived, but had escaped serious injury. He had been temporarily stunned, bruised, and cut in a score of places, his one-time white patrol uniform was scorched, torn, and discoloured, but he had emerged wrathful if not triumphant.
"The blighters!" he muttered. "Another twenty seconds and I'd have got the message through. Can you get me something to drink, old son?"
"I'll get you below, out of it," said Alwyn. "They'll reopen fire soon, I'm afraid."
He bent to raise the wounded operator, but Mostyn expostulated vehemently.
"Don't," he exclaimed. "It hurts frightfully. I'll carry on by myself if you'll stand by."
He crawled painfully to the companion-way. There his bodily strength gave out, and he collapsed inertly against the coaming. Finding that Mostyn was insensible and no longer capable of feeling pain, Burgoyne literally gathered him in his arms and carried him below. Before he had handed over his burden to the care of the steward, the ship quivered from stem to stern, and a hollow roar reverberated 'tween decks. The pirate had reopened fire.
Burgoyne regained the open. He did not feel particularly happy at having to do so. It would have been preferable to remain in the comparative shelter afforded by the thin steel plates and bulkheads. There was no reason why he should not take cover except that some of his comrades were exposed to the far-flying slivers of steel.
The after funnel had carried away. Guided by the unsevered wire guys it had fallen inboard, and was lying diagonally across the riddled casings and a couple of boats that were slung inboard. Smoke pouring from the base of the funnel was sweeping aft, hiding the bridge and fore part of the ship in a pall of oil-reeking, black vapour.
He glanced astern. The pirate vessel was coming up hand over fist, and with a certain amount of caution had taken up a position on theDonibristle'sstarboard quarter. She thus achieved a double purpose. She was no longer impeded by the smoke from her intended prey; and there was no risk of her propellers fouling ropes and baulks of timber deliberately thrown overboard from the merchantman.
The pirate's bow gun spoke again, followed almost simultaneously by the for'ard quick-firer of the starboard battery. A heavy object crashed upon theDonibristle'sdeck from overhead. Owing to the smoke the Third Officer could not see what it was.
"Our other smoke-stack, I think," he soliloquized. "By Jove! What are those fellows up to?"
His attention was directed towards a group of men standing aft. With an utter disregard of danger, seven or eight men were throwing articles into one of the quarter-boats—their scanty personal belongings, tins of provisions, and kegs of fresh water.
"Belay there!" shouted Burgoyne. "Time enough when you get the order to abandon ship. Take cover."
Even as he spokethe staccato soundof a machine-gun came from the for'ard superstructure of the cruiser. The luckless men, caught in the open by the hail of nickel bullets, were swept away like flies. Nor did the machine-gun cease until every boat in davits on theDonibristle'sport side was riddled through and through. Splinters of wood flew in all directions. Metal bullets rattled like hail against the steel framework of the deck-houses, and zipped like swarms of angry bees when they failed to encounter any resistance save that of the air.
By this time the speed of theDonibristlehad fallen to a bare seven knots. The destruction of both funnels and consequent reduction of draught had counteracted the strenuous efforts of Angus and the engine-room staff to "keep their end up". Far below the water-line, working in semi-darkness owing to the fact that the hammering to which the boat had been subjected had broken the electric-light current, unable to see what was going on, the "black squad" toiled like Trojans in the unequal contest with the fast and powerfully armed pirate.
A glance astern showed the Third Officer that theDonibristlewas steering a somewhat erratic course. The straggling wake was evidence of that. Perhaps it was intentional on the Old Man's part in order to baffle the pirate gun-layers; but Burgoyne decided to make sure on that point.
Crossing to the starboard side, so that the partly-demolished deck structure might afford a slight amount of cover, Alwyn ran for'ard. Scrambling over mounds of debris and crawling under the wrecked funnels he hurried, holding his breath as he dashed through the whirling wreaths of smoke.
At last he arrived at the starboard bridge ladder—or rather where the ladder had been. Only two or three of the brass-edged steps remained. Here he paused. The edge of the bridge hid the skipper from his view. He retraced his steps for a few paces and looked again. There was the Old Man still grasping the wheel. The sides of the wheel-house were shattered, daylight showed through the flat roof, but Captain Blair remained at the post of honour and danger.
It was evident that he had been hit again. One arm hung helplessly by his side. The white sleeve of his tunic was deeply stained.
Burgoyne hesitated no longer. He wondered why the Second Officer had not noticed the skipper's predicament, but the Second had followed the First, and was lying motionless across the dismounted binnacle.
Without waiting to cross over to the port side and ascend by the almost intact ladder, Burgoyne swarmed up one of the steel rails supporting the bridge, and gained the dangerously swaying structure.
The Old Man looked at him as he approached.
"Women aboard," he muttered, like a man speaking to himself. "Women aboard and the dirty swine are firing into us. Worse than Huns."
"Shall I carry on, sir?" asked Burgoyne.
"No," was the reply. "But—yes. Carry on, I've stopped something here. Feel a bit dazed."
He stood aside and allowed Alwyn to take his place at the wheel. In the absence of a compass there was nothing definite to steer by. TheDonibristle, like a sorely-stricken animal, was merely staggering blindly along at the mercy of her unscrupulous pursuer.
Then it dawned upon the Third Officer that the cruiser had not fired for some minutes. It was too much to hope that the pirate, sighting another craft, had sheered off. He glanced aft, across the debris-strewn decks, tenanted only by the dead. The pirate cruiser was still there. She had closed her distance, and was about two cables' lengths on the merchantman's starboard quarter. She had lowered the White Ensign, and now displayed a red flag with the skull and crossbones worked in black on the centre of the field. This much Alwyn saw, but what attracted his immediate attention was the plain fact that he was looking straight at the muzzles of four of the pirate's quick-firers, and, as the cruiser forged ahead, those sinister weapons were trained so that they pointed at the merchantman's bridge and the two men on it.
Burgoyne realized that if those guns spoke he would not stand a dog's chance. Through long-drawn-out moments of mental torture he waited for the lurid flash that meant utter annihilation. He wanted to shout: "For Heaven's sake fire and finish with me."
Yet the quick-firers remained silent, although not for one moment did the weapons fail to keep trained upon theDonibristle'sbridge. There were machine-guns, too, served by yellow, brown, and white featured ruffians, who were awaiting the order to let loose a tornado of bullets upon the defenceless merchantman.
The tension was broken by the appearance of a gigantic mulatto, who, clambering on to the domed top of the for'ard gun-shield, began to semaphore a message. He sent the words slowly, coached by a resplendently-garbed villain who spelt out the message letter by letter.
The signal as received read thus:
"Surrend ers hip savey our lifs. Ifno tuues ink shipa ndnoq uarta."
"What's that fellow signalling?" asked Captain Blair. Faint with loss of blood he could only just discern the slow motion of the coloured hand-flags.
Burgoyne signified that the message was understood, and bent to speak to the wounded skipper.
"They've signalled, 'Surrender the ship and save your lives; if not we will sink you and give no quarter'."
The Old Man raised himself on one elbow. The pulse on his uninjured temple was working like a steam piston.
"Surrender the ship!" he exclaimed vehemently. "I'll see them to blazes first."
"Very good, sir!"
Fired by the dogged bravery of the skipper, Alwyn stood erect and prepared to semaphore a reply of defiance, but before he could do so Captain Blair called to him.
"After all's said and done, Burgoyne," said the Old Man feebly, "we've put up a good fight. No one can deny that. And there are women aboard, though p'raps 'twould be best——"
His voice sank and he muttered a few inaudible sentences.
"I'm slipping my cable," he continued, his voice gaining strength, "so it doesn't much matter to me. There are the others to consider—what's left of them. Quarter, they promised?"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Then we'll chuck up the sponge. Tell the villains we'll surrender. If they don't keep their word (now make sure you understand) tell Angus to stand by, and if there's any shooting he's to open the Kingston valves."
"Aye, aye, sir," agreed the Third Officer. He realized that if the pirates failed to keep faith in the matter of quarter, then theDonibristle—the prize they so greatly desired—would be sunk by the simple expedient of opening the underwater valves.
"We surrender," semaphored Burgoyne.
It was a hateful task, but upon reflection he agreed with his skipper's amended decision. TheDonibristlehad not thrown up the sponge without a gallant resistance dearly paid for in human lives. It remained to be seen whether the terms of surrender would be honoured by the horde of polyglot pirates.
Gripping the bridge-rail Burgoyne shouted out the order: "All hands on deck."
The summons was obeyed promptly, but how few responded to it! There was Branscombe, with his arm in a sling and an ugly gash on his cheek; little Perkins, the Fifth Officer, who had never before smelt powder; Holmes, the purser, and Adams, the steward, both looking like butchers after tending the wounded; Heatherington, the junior wireless operator; and fifteen of the deck-hands, several of whom bore visible signs of the gruelling they had undergone. In addition were Withers and Nuttall and seventeen firemen of the "watch-below", the rest under Angus remaining at their posts in the engine- and boiler-rooms. Of the rest of the officers and crew eleven had been killed outright or mortally wounded, including the First and Second Officers, and close on twenty hit.
The officers and men who had fallen in on the boat-deck, unaware of the trend of events, were watching the pirate with puzzled looks.
Burgoyne went to the skipper to obtain further instructions before obtaining assistance in order to take him below. Captain Blair was unconscious. Wounded in half a dozen places, he had carried on until the ship was no longer his to command. As senior surviving deck officer, Alwyn was now responsible for the act of surrender.
"We've given in," he announced to the assembled men. "There was no help for it. The cruiser has promised us quarter. Lower the ensign."
As the torn, tattered, and smoke-begrimed Red Ensign was lowered and untoggled, wild yells burst from the throats of the ruffian crew. They did not know how to cheer; they could not if they did. It could only be compared with a concerted roar of a hundred wild beasts.
The shouts ceased, not abruptly, but in a long-drawn-out howl. The captain of the pirate cruiser was shouting himself hoarse in an endeavour to obtain silence. When comparative quiet had been gained, he stepped to the end of the bridge and raised a megaphone.
"ShipDonibristle!" he shouted. "Obtain way off ze ship an stan' by to receive boats."
"Aye, aye!" replied Burgoyne.
Hitherto theDonibristlehad been forging ahead at her present maximum speed, which by this time was a bare five knots; while the pirate cruiser had slowed down to the same speed, causing her to yaw horribly.
For the first time Burgoyne noticed that the engine-room telegraph was no longer workable. The voice-tube, however, was intact.
"Mr. Angus," he began.
"Aye, it's Angus," replied that worthy's rolling voice "Is't Captain Blair speakin'?"
"No, Burgoyne," replied the temporarily promoted Third. "The skipper's hit. We're down and out. Stop both engines, and——"
"Weel?" asked the Chief Engineer with more alacrity than he usually displayed.
"Stand by the Kingston valves. The villains have promised to spare our lives, but you never know. So if you hear one blast on the whistle, open the valves and take your chance. Do you understand?"
"Deed aye," replied Angus.
Presently the throb of the twin propellers ceased. TheDonibristlecarried way for nearly a mile before she stopped. Her head fell off as she rolled gently in the trough of the long crestless waves. The cruiser also stopped, and a couple of boats were swung out, manned, and lowered.
Burgoyne had very little time to complete his preparations, but he made the best of those precious moments. Captain Blair was carried below, with the purser and the steward to attend him. The rest of the engine-room staff, with the exception of Angus, were mustered on deck. Calling one of the hands, a reliable and intelligent Cockney, Alwyn stationed him on the bridge, telling him to keep out of sight as much as possible.
"If those fellows start shooting us down," he said, "they won't waste much time about it. Now keep a sharp look-out. At the first sign tug that whistle lanyard for all you're worth, then shift for yourself if you can, and the best of luck."
Burgoyne's next step was to send Branscombe to bring the passengers on deck. He watched intently as they ascended the companion-ladder, Tarrant and the Fourth Officer assisting Colonel Vivian, and Miles furtively following. But to his keen disappointment and alarm there was no sign of Hilda Vivian. Mental pictures of the ruffianly horde finding the girl below filled him with apprehension.
"Where's Miss Vivian?" asked Alwyn anxiously. A suspicion of a smile showed itself on the Fourth Officer's features.
"It's all right, old man," he explained. "There she is; three from the end of the rear rank of firemen."
Burgoyne gasped.
"Thought I told her to shove on Mostyn's kit," he exclaimed. "Don't you see, she'll have to—to keep with the engine-room crowd."
"Jolly sight safer," declared Branscombe. "She'd attract attention with the few of us who are left. Her father agreed with me. 'Sides, all hands know, and they're white men, every man jack of 'em."
"P'raps you're right," conceded Burgoyne, and as he gave another look he felt convinced that the amended plan was the thing. Unless an unfortunate fluke occurred or, what was most unlikely, someone "gave her away" the pirates would never recognize the slender fireman with closely-cropped hair and begrimed features, and rigged out in an ill-fitting greasy suit of blue dungarees, as a girl of gentle birth. There was certainly nothing in her demeanour to betray her. She was standing in a line with the men, outwardly as stolid as the rest.
Drawing a small plated revolver from his hip-pocket—it was a six-chambered .22 weapon of neat workmanship—Burgoyne thrust it inside his sock, jamming the muzzle between the inside of his boot and his ankle. For the first time he felt grateful to the steward for having spilt ink over both pairs of deck-shoes, otherwise he would not have been wearing boots, and another hiding-place for the handy little weapon would not have promised to be so convenient.
The leading boat from the pirate cruiser ran alongside, and about twenty men, armed to the teeth, swarmed up theDonibristle'sside, followed (not led) by a swarthy, black-bearded individual wearing a cocked hat, a blue tunic, with a lavish display of gold lace, a black and crimson scarf round his waist, and a pair of duck trousers with white canvas gaiters. From his belt hung a cavalry officer's sword, while in his kid-gloved right hand he grasped an automatic pistol.
The boarding-party consisted of men of half a dozen nationalities, and at least three totally distinct types of colour. There were Chinese, blue-smocked and wearing straw hats and black wooden shoes, negroes, bare to the waist, Creoles and half-breeds from various South American states, a couple of South Sea Island Kanakas, and a gigantic Malay armed with a kriss and a magazine rifle. Bunched together they eyed the motionless crew of theDonibristleso fiercely that Burgoyne momentarily expected to find them slashing, hewing, and shooting down their helpless, unarmed captives.
The pirate officer stepped forward in the most approved melodramatic manner.
"Me Pablo Henriques,tiente po—dat premier lieutenant—ob cruiserMalfilio," he announced. "Señor Ramon Porfirio him capitano. Now I take command ob de—de——"
He paused, unable to pronounce the name.
"—ob dis ship," he continued. "If you no give trouble den all vell. If you do, den dis."
He drew one finger across his throat with a guttural cluck and pointed significantly over the side. The stolid-faced prisoners hardly moved a muscle. With no immediate danger in prospect, provided the pirate kept his word, they were content to let events shape themselves, confident that in the long run the lawful keepers of the peace on the High Seas would adjust matters in the form of a running noose round the neck of each of the pirate crew.
"Now tell me," continued Henriques, addressing Burgoyne. "You no capitan; where am he?"
"Wounded," replied Alwyn briefly.
"Bueno. He make to ram us," rejoined the half-caste lieutenant. "Capitano Ramon Porfirio him angry, so we shoot. Say, is dis all der crew?"
"No," replied Burgoyne steadily. "There are several wounded below. Also the Chief Engineer is in the engine-room."
Henriques darted a glance of suspicion at the British officer.
"Wa for?" he demanded sharply.
Burgoyne returned his look calmly.
"He has to watch the steam-gauges," he replied. "It might be awkward for us if an explosion occurred."
It was an answer that served a two-fold purpose. Not only had Burgoyne given the pirate lieutenant a satisfactory reason for the Chief Engineer's presence in the engine-room, but he had, perhaps unknowingly, shown a certain amount of anxiety for the safety of the ship. Consequently any suspicion on the part of Pablo Henriques that the crew of theDonibristlehad arranged to destroy the vessel, the boarding-party, and themselves was totally dispelled.
"Ver' good!" he exclaimed, satisfied with the explanation. "Now, wher' are de documentos—de papairs?"
Burgoyne shook his head and pointed to the wreckage of the chart-house. "Your fire was so accurate that the ship's papers are lost," he replied.
As a matter of fact Captain Blair had weighted them with a lead-line and sinker, and had dropped them overboard almost directly theMalfiliohad hoisted the ID signal. They were several miles astern and fathoms deep in the Pacific.
A string of questions followed. What was the nature of the cargo? The amount of coal in the bunkers? Any infectious disease? How many passengers?
All these questions Burgoyne answered promptly He was anxious not to cause trouble and give the pirates an excuse for brutality and perhaps massacre.
"Four," he replied in answer to the last question. "One, a lady, lies dead below. She died during the firing."
Pablo Henriques shrugged his shoulders. That information interested him hardly at all.
"You vill tell your men," he ordered, "to give up all arms an knifes. If we find any after late, den' we kill 'em."
The young officer gave the word, and the crew deposited their knives upon the deck. Firearms they did not possess, but of the officers, Withers and Branscombe each gave up an automatic and a few rounds of ammunition. Burgoyne took the risk and retained his revolver.
"Now I make search every man," declared Henriques, smiling sardonically. "I jus' make certain."
Fortunately a signal was being made by theMalfilio, and Henriques' attention was diverted. By the time the message was completed and acknowledged, the pirate lieutenant had either forgotten his intention of having the prisoners searched, or else something of more pressing nature required attention.
Accompanied by three or four of the pirates Henriques went below. He was away for about five minutes, during which time the Malay ostentatiously whetted the already keen edges of his kriss. Noting the act, Burgoyne registered a vow that, should the pirates commence a massacre, he would take care that the yellow ruffian would be the recipient of the first of the six bullets in his revolver.
Presently the grotesquely attired Henriques returned with much sabre-rattling.
"De firemans here vill go below an' keep up de steam," he ordered. "Ebbery one of de firemans. De odders dey vill go prisoners on board deMalfilio."
"That's done it," ejaculated Burgoyne under his breath. "Why that ass Branscombe hadn't put Miss Vivian with the deck-hands passes my comprehension. She'll be separated from her father straight away."
He was furious but impotent. He pictured Hilda ordered below into the hot, steam-laden, dusty stokehold, imprisoned in an iron box, in which only hardened firemen could endure the discomforts, especially in latitudes approaching the tropics. He wondered whether Colonel Vivian would break the bonds of restraint and jeopardize the lives of all the passengers, or whether Hilda would give way under the parting, which might or might not be permanent.
The fact that Alwyn was now senior executive officer complicated matters. He was responsible for the safety of passengers and crew as far as lay in his power, and he was under the impression that Branscombe's ill-advised step reflected upon his own judgment and discretion. And Hilda Vivian's presence on board promised to lead to endless difficulties and additional dangers before the prisoners were rescued. As these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind Burgoyne watched Miss Vivian from a distance. She no doubt clearly understood the pirate lieutenant's order, even if the words were somewhat ambiguous; but the girl gave no sign or look to indicate her thoughts. She had dropped quite naturally into the stand-at-ease pose of her companions, all of whom were ready, if needs be, to give their lives to shield her from harm.
"After all," soliloquized Alwyn, "there'll be Angus and Withers to keep an eye on her. And there's less chance of the oldDonibristlebeing sunk than the pirate, if a British or Yankee cruiser should appear."
There was a decided uncertainty about that "if". British cruisers were comparatively rare birds in that part of the North Pacific, and Uncle Sam was content to keep his cruisers within easy distance of the American seaboard, except on rare occasions when events in the Philippines or Hawaii required their presence. As for merchant vessels, they kept rigidly to the recognized routes. Sailing craft had perforce to wander from the narrow path, otherwise there were wide stretches of the Pacific where the blue seas were hardly ever disturbed by a ship's cutwater.
TheDonibristle, when overhauled by theMalfilio, was on the recognized Vancouver-Honolulu route. She had cut and was well to the south'ard of the steamer track between 'Frisco and Yokohama, and still at some distance north-west of the converging track between 'Frisco and Honolulu. During the pursuit she had been forced some miles out of her course, so that any slight hope of being rescued by a chance war-ship was rendered still more remote.
Pablo Henriques signalled imperiously to Alwyn to put his orders into execution.
"Carry on, Mr. Withers," said Burgoyne, without a trace of emotion, although he felt like springing at the throat of the pirate lieutenant. "Get the firemen—both watches—below."
The men broke ranks and disappeared from view. With them went Hilda, descending the almost vertical slippery steel ladder without the faintest hesitation.
"You will lower boats," ordered Henriques.
"But," protested Burgoyne, pointing to the shattered and bullet-holed assortment of woodwork in the davits, "it is useless. They wouldn't keep us afloat a minute."
The pirate lieutenant shrugged his shoulders.
"That has noddin' to do with me," he remarked callously. "If dey no float you swim. It not far."
"That's one way of making us walk the plank, I suppose," thought Alwyn; then, without betraying his mistrust, ordered the boats to be swung out.
"We can make some of them seaworthy, lads," he added. "It's not far. Those boats that can keep afloat will have to make two trips. The passengers will go in No. 1 lifeboat. She's the safest I think."
As the seamen moved off to carry out the order, Colonel Vivian turned to the erstwhile Third Officer.
"Is there no chance of my remaining on board?" he asked hurriedly. "You see, my daughter—and my wife, lying dead below——"
"Miss Vivian will be safe enough, I think," replied Burgoyne. "That is provided her secret is kept. I quite understand your anxiety about Mrs. Vivian. Why not ask to be allowed to remain?"
Colonel Vivian limped away to make the request. It was humiliating for a British army officer to have to ask a favour of a rascally half-caste pirate, but the thought of having to abandon the body of his wife to be unceremoniously thrown overboard by this horde of coloured ruffians made him put aside his scruples.
"No," replied Henriques. "De order is all leave de ship. But I gif you fife minutes to perform de burial of de lady."
And so, setting to work rapidly yet reverently, Burgoyne, the purser, and the steward assisted the bereaved colonel to commit the remains to the deep. Under the watchful eyes of a couple of pirates, lest articles or documents of value should be disposed of at the same time, the corpse was swathed in a spare awning, lashed up, and weighted with a length of chain. The steward produced a Prayer Book and handed it to the temporary skipper. Burgoyne, noting that a bare ninety seconds remained, read a few portions of the burial service, then, with every man of theDonibristle'screw within sight knocking off work and standing bareheaded, the mortal remains of Mrs. Vivian were committed to the deep.
"Perhaps," thought Alwyn, as he turned away, "perhaps it was as well that Miss Vivian did go below. There are limits even to the endurance of human nature."
The voice of the pirate lieutenant bawling out orders in broken English attracted Burgoyne's attention. A signal had just been received from theMalfiliocountermanding the previous order, and instructing Henriques to send the prisoners below and get under way. So the boats were swung in again and secured.
By the time that this work was completed, and before the British deck-hands and officers could be sent below, a faint buzzing that momentarily increased caused all hands to look skywards. Approaching theMalfilioat a high speed was a small seaplane. At first Burgoyne and many of his comrades thought that it was a naval scout, and that deliverance was at hand; but the fact that no hostile demonstration was made on the pirate cruiser quickly banished this hope.
The seaplane was winding in a wireless aerial as she circled round theMalfilio. Without the slightest doubt it was by this means that theMalfiliohad been placed in touch with her prey. The fuselage was dumpy and the monoplane spare and small, and by the corrugations of the wings Burgoyne rightly concluded that they were of metal. She was of an earlier type with a single motor of comparatively low power —but quite sufficient to enable her to be a valuable adjunct to the pirate cruiser.
The "winding-in" completed, the seaplane alighted on the surface and "taxi-ed" alongside theMalfilio. A derrick swung outwards from the cruiser, and a steel wire rope was deftly shackled to the eyebolt of a "gravity band" round the fuselage. Even as the machine rose from the water, dangling at the end of a wire rope, her wings swung back and folded themselves against the body, and in this compact form the aerial scout vanished from sight behind theMalfilio'ssuperstructure.
This much Burgoyne saw before he was compelled to follow the remaining officers and deck-hands, including the Cockney who had been told to stand by the whistle lanyard, and who, during the operation of swinging in the boats, had seen his officer's signal for recall.
Once 'tween decks, the men were herded for'ard and locked up in the forepeak, an armed pirate being stationed on the hatchway. The remnant of officers and the passengers were ordered aft, and secured in the steerage, where they found Captain Blair, Mostyn, and the other wounded. There were four cabins at their disposal, the whole separated from the rest of the ship by a transverse bulkhead in which was a single sliding door. Outside this a sentry was posted, while, as an additional precaution, that for some reason was not taken in the case of the men, four villainous-looking Orientals, armed to the teeth, were stationed with the prisoners. The dead-lights were screwed into the scuttles, and the captives warned that any attempt at tampering with them would be punishable with death; and, since the electric light had failed, the steerage was dimly illuminated by half a dozen oil-lamps.
The door had not been locked more than a couple of minutes before the prisoners heard the thresh of the twin propellers. The S.S.Donibristleunder her new masters was steaming ahead, under greatly reduced speed, in the wake of the pirate cruiserMalfilio—but whither?
The reaction of the excitement and peril of the last few hours now set in, and a state of lethargy took possession of most of the prisoners. The hot, confined, ill-ventilated space, the reek of iodoform pervading everything, and a sheer hunger and fatigue all combined to suppress any desire for conversation. For some hours the silence was broken only by the moans of the wounded and the clank of the freshwater pump, as the parched men quenched their burning thirst with frequent and copious draughts, while constantly their Chinese guards, with their expressionless yellow faces and slanting eyes, paced to and fro, like sinister demons from another world.
Hour after hour passed. Darkness succeeded daylight. At intervals the guards were changed, and at about nine o'clock a negro brought in a small sack of ship's biscuits.
About midnight Miles attempted to start a conversation by grumbling to Tarrant about the bad methods of the Mercantile Marine, and the British Columbian and Chinese Line in particular, in allowing ships to leave port in a defenceless condition. Tarrant promptly "shut him up", amidst a murmur of applause from the men in the vicinity, for the drummer's anxiety for his own safety, and disregard of the plight of his companions, had not failed to be noticed.
"That's the way to deal with him, Mr. Tarrant," remarked Alwyn. "We've quite enough to put up with without having to listen to the yapping and whining of a spiritless fellow like that."
"Yes, it's deucedly unfortunate," said Tarrant, "but so far we haven't been badly treated."
"No," agreed Burgoyne, "we haven't. They've spared our lives, although that rather puzzles me. One would have thought that, being pirates, they would emulate the Hun and do the 'spurlos versenkt' stunt. Piracy is a hanging matter, and having gone thus far it's a wonder they didn't go the whole hog. However, they haven't and I don't think they will now."
"I always thought that there was no such thing as piracy nowadays," remarked the purser, "at least only in a small way in the China seas."
"Then you'll have to revise your ideas, Holmes," rejoined Burgoyne. "It came as a shock to all of us. One of the aftermaths of the Great War, I suppose, and the very audacity of it brings temporary—let us hope—success. This game can't last long. Once the world gets wind of it there'll be British, Yankee, and Jap light cruisers and destroyers on theMalfilio'sheels, and she'll be rounded up in double quick time."
"I wonder where they are taking us," said Tarrant.
"That I can't say," replied Alwyn. "But, if it's any information to you, I can inform you that we've been steaming roughly nor'west for the last six hours."
"How do you know that?" inquired Branscombe in astonishment. "Here we are cooped up without a chance of seeing a single star, and yet——"
"I've a compass, laddie," replied Burgoyne. "A liquid pocket compass, and I mean to stick to it as long as I jolly well can. Naturally, in playing a billiard handicap, a fellow...."
He continued discoursing upon the irrelevant subject of billiards for more than a minute, his companions expressing no surprise at the sudden change of topic. It was not until the Chinese sentry had passed and was out of earshot, that the former theme was resumed.
"That chap might understand English," observed Burgoyne. "Well, I can also tell you this; if we hold on our course sufficiently long, we'll fetch up on one of the Aleutian Islands, or else on the coast of Kamtchatka."
"Give me something a little warmer," protested Tarrant. "There's nothing like getting used——"
A voice, hoarse, masterful, and at the same time, slightly incoherent, interrupted the conclave. Captain Blair was recovering consciousness and making a considerable song about it.
"Mr. Angus," he shouted, "can't you whack her up a bit more? Three knots if you burst. The cowardly skunks—women on board, and the villains are shelling us. Mr. Angus, are you there?"
In a trice Burgoyne was by the Old Man's side, fearful lest he should divulge the fact to the pirate that there had been more than one woman on board.
"It's all right, sir," he said soothingly. "We've got the heels of them."
"Eh?" exclaimed the skipper. "Who's that?"
"Burgoyne, sir."
"And we've given 'em the slip, eh? Yes, the firing's stopped right enough. Where am I?"
"In good hands," replied Alwyn. "You've been knocked about a bit, but Holmes and the steward have patched you up all right."
"Yes, I remember," rejoined Captain Blair. "I told you to carry on, and everything's O.K.?"
Reassured on that point, the Old Man gave a long sigh, closed his eyes, and sank into a sound slumber.
Towards morning Burgoyne noticed, by consulting his compass, that theDonibristlehad altered her course and was steering due west.
"Kamtchatka's off," he announced, as Tarrant appeared munching a biscuit. "They've altered course four points to the west'ard."
"And that means?" asked the Consular Service man. "That we make Japan if we carry on as we are going," replied Alwyn.
"H'm; s' long as they land me within easy distance of my destination I welcome the alteration," observed Tarrant. "But perhaps they're making for a coral island or something of that sort. Are there any hereabouts?"
"Evidently they mean to give Hawaii a wide berth," said Burgoyne. "After that there are only a few small islands—the Ocean Islands they're called. I've never been there, because they lie to the nor'ard of our regular track and a good way south of the Yokohama-San Francisco route."
"Uninhabited?"
Burgoyne shook his head.
"I've told you all I know," he asserted. "It isn't much. But we'll find out in due course, I expect."
Shortly afterwards the bulkhead door was unlocked, and Withers was unceremoniously shown in.
"What's for brekker?" he asked. "I'm ravenous."
"Ship's biscuit and lukewarm water, old son," replied Branscombe. "What are you doing here?"
"The blighters are letting us work watch and watch," said the Second Engineer, voraciously biting off chunks of the tough biscuit. "I've had my stand-easy, and they sent me aft to get some grub before I'm on again. Angus will be here in another quarter of an hour."
"And the men?" asked Burgoyne "How are they standing it?"
"Fine, everything considered," replied Withers "Even though they are being fed on rice as if they were Chinks." He glanced at the Chinese guards. They were bunched together close to the bulkhead door, resuming an interrupted game of cards. "And Miss Vivian is just splendid," he continued lowering his voice. "We rigged her up a sort of caboose under one of the intake ventilators. She told Angus that she'd slept well, but she couldn't tackle rice and cold water, so I'm going to fill my pockets with biscuits for her. No objections, I hope?"
"Do the pirates worry you much?" asked Branscombe.
"Directly—no; indirectly—yes," was the reply. "They don't post guards in the engine-room, which is a blessing; but they are continually calling for more revolutions. Perhaps they imagine we're a South American republic—how's that for a joke, Branscombe?"
"Feeble," was the reply, "but get on with it."
"There's nothing much to get on with," continued the Second Engineer. "There was a talk of tinkering with the high-pressure slide-valves and stopping the engines, only Angus said that, if theDonibristledid break down, the cruiser would doubtless remove the prize crew and send her to the bottom—and us as well. So that didn't come off. But, I say, who's eating chocolate?"
"No one," replied Alwyn.
"You're wrong, old son," he replied presently, "or perhaps I ought to say 'Mr. Burgoyne' now? Fact remains, I smell chocolate. The air's stiff with it."
"Hanged if I can whiff it," exclaimed Alwyn. "Iodoform, yes, but not chocolate."
For answer the Second Engineer grasped Burgoyne's arm and led him across the compartment. With a sense of smell almost as acute as that of a dog, he led Alwyn to a dark corner formed by the angle of one of the cabin bulkheads with the ship's side. There, seated on an upturned bucket, was Miles—and there was no doubt now as to the reek of chocolate. Filled with indignation at the gross selfishness of the drummer, Burgoyne held out his hand.
"I'll trouble you to hand over what's left," he said curtly.
But Miles was not going to surrender his spoils without protest.
"Say, what for?" he asked. "If I took the precaution to lay in a stock, that is my affair."
Burgoyne with difficulty restrained his temper.
"At once," he exclaimed sternly. Having been trained from his early youth to manage men, he was not going to stand any nonsense from a coward.
The passenger gasped but complied. Burgoyne found himself possessed of a slab of chocolate weighing nearly a pound. The wretched fellow, taking advantage of the fact that during the chase the steward's pantry was unattended, had taken and concealed the toothsome stuff.
"Mr. Holmes!" sang out the Third Officer
The purser appeared.
"This is part of the ship's stores, is it not?" inquired Burgoyne.
Mr. Holmes replied in the affirmative, volunteering the additional information that the chocolate was stamped with the company's initials—a fact that in his haste the pilferer had overlooked.
"Right-o, Mr. Holmes," continued Alwyn. "That leaves me with a clear conscience. Take charge of the stuff and issue it out in equal shares to everyone aft. Keep back a share for Mr. Angus and the Third Engineer when they arrive."
But when Withers returned to the engine-room his pockets were bulging—not only with biscuits, but with small cubes of chocolate. Spontaneously, and almost without exception, every temporary occupant of the steerage had given up his share to Hilda Vivian.