Accustomed to comparatively short hours of sleep, as are usual afloat, Burgoyne was up and about before the sun rose. In spite of the unusual stability of his hard bed—it was the first night he had slept ashore for nearly four months—his rest was none the less good on that account; but once awake he felt compelled to dress and go out.
"What's up, old man?" inquired a drowsy voice, as Branscombe lifted a tousled head from his pillow—or rather a pile of folded clothes.
"Show a leg and shine, my festive," exclaimed the Third Officer. "Come along, let's see if we can put in a swim before breakfast."
Phil assented, dressed hurriedly, and accompanied Burgoyne into the open air. By that time the sun was just showing above the edge of the cliff. The reek of wood-fires mingled with the soft, cool air. Already in three separate canvas-screened enclosures the cooks of the respective crews were busy. Alwyn wondered whether Miss Vivian was one of the energetic ones.
"Our fair passenger has weathered another day, old thing," remarked Branscombe.
"Yes," agreed Burgoyne. "That's so. Hope we'll be able to work the stunt all right."
"It won't be for want of trying on your part," rejoined Phil. "Miss Vivian told me last night that you nearly jumped down her throat 'cause she'd washed her face."
"Was she angry about it?" demanded Alwyn.
"Not a bit, only amused."
"Amused?" retorted the Third Officer. "Just like a girl. She'd never see the serious side of things. I wouldn't mind betting that she'll disobey orders, and show a sparkling healthy complexion to every slant-eyed Chink that comes into the compound."
The two chums were passing within thirty yards of the hut with the canvas annexe that formed the "galley ". As they did so a grimy, laughing face with a mass of cropped hair appeared through a slit in the canvas, and a hand was waved in friendly greeting.
"You've lost your bet, old man," observed Phil. "Wonder if she heard what we were saying?"
"At any rate," rejoined Alwyn. "She's carried out orders. She probably realizes that this isn't a scene fromThe Pirates of Penzance. So far all's well, but honestly I don't like the look of things. There's something very fishy about the way that scoundrel Porfirio is treating us. This sort of conciliatory business has something behind it. I shouldn't be surprised if the blighter doesn't show himself in his true colours before very long."
The two chums walked to the extreme north-western point of the island, where further progress was barred by the sheer descent of cliff. It was hardly what Burgoyne had expected. He had hoped to find a path giving access to the shallow bay, but there was none.
Foiled of the chance of having a bathe, Burgoyne began taking stock of the surroundings. From where he stood the barrier reef enclosing the lagoon presented an unbroken wall of surf-lashed coral. There was not the suspicion of an opening. Immediately off the point the reef extended seawards for nearly a couple of miles, diverging shorewards until towards the north-eastern and south-western points of the island the lagoon narrowed to about one hundred yards. On the northern face of the island the coast was but slightly indented, the cliffs being of almost uniform height. But on the western side there was a bay of considerable width, bounded on the southern extremity by a hook-shaped spur of lofty ground, off which was an islet of about an acre in extent, and only about half the height of the nearmost cliffs of the main island. The cliffs did not drop sheer into the water, but were fronted by a broad and slightly-shelving beach of glistening white sand.
As far as Burgoyne could make out, this side of the island was undefended by guns in position. Evidently the authorities responsible for the safety of the secret base deemed the frowning cliffs to be sufficient protection. An army formed up on that beach would be useless for assault, since the smooth overhanging precipices were unscaleable.
Presently Alwyn, who had been silently contemplating the view, startled his companion by declaring:
"I'm going to explore that beach, old son!"
"Nonsense!" protested Phil. "The cliff's too smooth. There's not a single niche in it. You'd be smashed to a jelly for a dead cert."
"I'm not trying at present," said Burgoyne. "But I mean to some day. And by a rope."
"Rope! What rope?" asked his friend.
"We'll have to make up one from short ends," replied Alwyn. "It's easy to cut off short lengths and stow them under our clothes. Then at night, or at any odd time if it comes to that, we can make up a rope long enough to reach the beach, and strong enough to bear at least a couple of men. Then if we can get hold of some files——"
"You'll have a job, old son," interrupted Branscombe. "I was speaking to Withers about that very thing last night. There's a mighty sharp Chink in charge of the stores in the workshops, and he takes care to count every blessed thing in the tool line that's issued out, and when they are returned, he—— Hello! What's the move now?"
Breaking off in the midst of his description of Li Whong's methods, the Fourth Officer pointed in the direction of the conical hill which had attracted the chums' attention on their first journey from the tunnel to the compound.
Owing to the contour of the ground forming the prisoners' camp, the whole of the enclosed space was under direct observation, not only from the two block-houses, but from the hill as well. A few minutes before the flat top of the hill was seemingly bare. Now a tall flag-staff had been reared within the space of thirty seconds. Even as the chums looked, they saw a red-and-black flag broken out smartly at the masthead.
"What's that for, I wonder?" remarked Phil.
"Hanged if I know," replied Alwyn. "Precious little good I should imagine, since there's no wind. See anything seaward? I do, by Jove! There's a vessel nearly hull down."
"TheMalfiliomost likely," hazarded Branscombe. "Why doesn't she use wireless?"
"She does; to keep in touch with that seaplane of hers," replied Burgoyne. "But I don't fancy she would communicate by radio with her island."
"Why not? There's wireless on board theKittiwakeand that other craft, and they would have had ours if they hadn't blown the cabin to smithereens."
"Yes," agreed the Third Officer. "They've got the apparatus right enough, but Porfirio, although he's a rotten pirate, is no fool. If the island made use of it its position could be fixed by directional wireless, and that's what Porfirio doesn't want for obvious reasons. I think I twig the meaning of that flag. Look over there."
He pointed towards the eastern side of the island to a position slightly northward of the entrance to the tunnel. There, as on the last occasion when theMalfiliomade the harbour, three heavy columns of smoke were rising. That was the pre-arranged signal that the pirate cruiser could make her base without fear of the island having fallen into other hands during her absence.
"She's evidently been disappointed," remarked Branscombe. "There is no other craft with her."
"Unless," added Burgoyne, "she's sunk her victim, in which case she wouldn't have had time to remove the cargo. Sorry we can't wait to see her negotiate the reefs, but if we are to have any breakfast we must be getting back. Talking of grub, old thing, reminds me: I'm going to ask Colonel Vivian to hold back at least one tin of stuff a day. It'll keep, and there's no knowing if we may want it in a hurry."
As the chums strolled back to the huts they noticed that the flagstaff on the observation hill had been lowered, while a few seconds later they heard the hum of an aerial propeller.
Scanning the sky, they spotted theMalfilio'sseaplane flying at an immense height. Then, shutting off the motors, it volplaned steeply and vanished from sight behind the cliffs surrounding the harbour.
"That's what we want,"declared Branscombe sententiously."Pity we weren't in the Royal Air Force. Old man, we've been neglecting an important part of our education, what?"
"Yes," agreed Alwyn. "If either of us could manage that, we might be able to collar the seaplane one dark night, and be in Honolulu before daybreak. However, I still hold out hopes that we'll be able to cut out one of the small sailing craft."
"How far are we from Honolulu?" asked his companion.
"'Bout eight hundred miles, I think," was the reply. "And there's the North Equatorial Current against us, to say nothing of the Nor'east Trades. No, Honolulu's dead off as far as sailing there is concerned. I'd make for the Marshall Islands, or even the Gilbert Islands. It's farther, but one would stand a better chance. Heigh-o! We've got to find a boat first."
Breakfast was already in progress when they arrived at the camp. Directly the meal was over the men were paraded for inspection. Black Strogoff was not present for this function. He rarely was, according to Captain Davis, since he had a strong aversion to early rising. But the under-officer, Fernando, deputized for him, reading out instructions, written in peculiar English, with an accent that rendered the words almost unintelligible.
With one exception the routine of the various parties was the same as yesterday's; but four men were told off to provide fish for theDonibristle'screw. Later on Burgoyne found out that this was to be done every third day, the intervening days being allocated to fishing-parties drawn from theKittiwake'sandAlvarado'screws respectively.
"I'm on that, if it can be worked," decided Burgoyne. "You fellows know how to carry on with the crane."
The men expressed no surprise nor resentment at the Third Officer's decision to "put in for a soft job". Knowing Burgoyne to be a smart officer who never spared himself when there was work to be done, they guessed that he had something up his sleeve.
So when the working parties marched through the gate of the compound, one of the crew who somewhat resembled Burgoyne wore the Third Officer's drill coat and cap, while the latter in his shirt sleeves fell in with three others, and was supplied with lines and bait by an unsuspecting Chinese pirate.
After the customary precautions on the part of the guards, Burgoyne's party was taken through the tunnel to the beach. Alwyn suspected that the fishing operations would be conducted from the rocks, but to his great satisfaction the Chinaman pointed to a boat, and made signs for it to be launched.
The boat was a heavy one, being about eighteen feet in length and double-ended. There were air-tanks under the side benches, while, differing from the majority of ship's lifeboats, it had a centre-plate. Although it was fitted for masts and sails, they were not in evidence.
As the Chinaman unlocked the padlock and unrove the heavy chain securing the boat—it was the endmost one of a tier—Burgoyne pointed to the mast-clamps.
"No sailee. Makee pullee long-time," said the Chinaman. "You go longee fetchee oar one chop quick."
He pointed to a long, low building abutting the cliff. Burgoyne obeyed with alacrity. He was all out to find things, and the more he learnt of the position and contents of the various buildings, the more he felt pleased with himself.
The door of the shed was open, but a brief glance told him that it was secured, when shut, by means of an exceptionally stout hasp and padlock. Within were four of the pirates playing cards, while two more were watching the game over the others' shoulders. They took but little notice of the new-comer and continued their game.
Burgoyne made good use of his eyes as soon as they grew accustomed to the comparative darkness within the building. On each side of the shed were lockers, with brackets above them clamped to the walls. On these brackets were several oars of various sizes, boat-hooks, and light spars. Overhead, resting on the beams supporting the roof-trusses, were boats' masts and sails, some of the latter loosely furled, and others in painted canvas covers. Judging by the dust, it seemed as if this lot of gear had not been disturbed for a considerable time.
By means of the oars stacked against the wall, Burgoyne hoisted himself on the rafters, and, selecting what he took to be the masts and sails belonging to the lifeboat, he lowered them to the floor. Then, heavily laden, he returned to the beech with the utmost sang-froid.
The Chinaman was talking to one of his compatriots, and failed to notice the Third Officer's approach. By the time the former had finished his conversation, Burgoyne and his three men had already stepped the masts and were preparing to hoist the sails.
"No can do," shouted the pirate. "No makee sailee. Takee um back velly quick. Fetchee oar and makee row."
Burgoyne complied. He had gained his point. He had found out at the first attempt the proper gear belonging to the boat.
He replaced it carefully, but rammed the truck of the mast with considerable force against the end of the building.
"That'll help loosen the boarding," he soliloquized. "Now for the oars."
The pirates were still deep in their game. Deftly Alwyn placed a pair of stout ash oars by the side of the lifeboat's masts and sails, so that they would be invisible from the floor; then selecting another couple and four pairs of rowlocks he returned to the boat.
It took the united efforts of four men to run her down the beach into the water, but, Burgoyne reflected, two might perform the operation if there were rollers to assist in the launching. Then, again, there was the weight of the Chinaman, who had already clambered in and was sitting aft and holding the tiller.
Thigh-deep in water, theDonibristle'smen waded before they scrambled on board. The oars were shipped, and with long easy strokes the boat headed towards the entrance of the harbour.
Passing within a couple of boats' lengths of their former ship, the men gave curious glances at the oldDonibristle, on board of which Branscombe's party were unloading No. 1 hold. Standing at the head of the accommodation ladder was Black Strogoff.
"No tricks, you fellows!" he shouted. "You'll be under observation all the time." Then he added something in Chinese, and the Oriental seated aft solemnly held up an automatic pistol before returning it to the folds of his loose, blue linen jacket.
The warning was unnecessary. Burgoyne had not the slightest intention of giving his captors the slip. When he did he would take good care that his revolver, which was now hidden under the floor of his hut, would once again be nestling against his ankle.
Again luck was in his favour. The pirate in charge of the boat signed for the men to continue rowing, and steered towards the entrance. They were going to fish in the lagoon it appeared.
Although working an oar, Burgoyne frequently looked ahead over his shoulder. He noted the mass of towering rock that formed the screen to the entrance when viewed from seaward. He wondered which of the two channels was the main approach; the northern one was the broader, but the boat was taking the southern approach, which was barely fifty yards wide between the southern arm of the harbour and the inner side of the barrier island.
A quarter of a mile's steady pull brought the boat clear of the mass of rock on their port hand, and afforded an uninterrupted view seaward. Half a mile away was the coral reef, pierced by a deep channel through which at that moment theMalfiliowas returning. She was moving slowly, but before the lifeboat had rounded the south-eastern point of the island the pirate cruiser had turned into the northern approach channel. So far so good; Burgoyne had learnt the secrets of the big-ship channel leading to the pirates' lair.
It was hot work rowing under the blazing sun, but Burgoyne was not in the least keen to stop. It was an unknown water. He was now for the first time making the acquaintance of the southern side of the island, and if the boat carried on long enough they would soon open up the western side, which Alwyn had already studied from the cliffs of the compound.
The Chinaman gave no sign to anchor. Lightly grasping the tiller, he was puffing contentedly at a pipe with a bowl about the size of a small thimble, the contents of which he replenished every five minutes or so. Alwyn found himself speculating upon what was in the mind of this inscrutable-faced Oriental. Was he gloating over the fact that he was now a taskmaster set in authority over the "foreign devils"? What a tale would Ah Ling, late sampan-man on the crowded Yang-ste-Kiang, tell should he ever return to the Flowery Land.
Presently the lifeboat entered the narrowest part of the lagoon, close to the south-western side of the island. Here the sheltered water was barely thirty yards in width. The spray from the surf-thrashed reef descended in cooling showers upon the perspiring rowers. The grating of the rowlocks and the creaking of the ash oars were drowned by the thunder of the breakers, yet in that narrow belt the boat was in perfect safety.
Half a mile farther on the reef receded from the land and disclosed a narrow passage to the open sea. Here the island terminated in a hooked promontory that Burgoyne had previously seen from the compound. Passing between the steep headland and the rounded islet that lay off it, the lifeboat entered the broad but sheltered bay that comprised the major portion of the western side of the secret base.
Ah Ling signed to the rowers to lay on their oars. The boat glided another fifty yards before the Chinaman gave the word to drop anchor.
"Now you makee catchee fishee," he said. "No catchee, no dinner: can do?"
The four white men began baiting the hooks. Burgoyne, in the midst of the operation, took the opportunity to secrete one pair of rowlocks in a little locker in the bows. Then, having cast his line overboard, he prepared to make good use of his eyes.
Interruptions in the form of bites were numerous. Weird-looking fish, most of which he failed to recognize, took the bait with avidity, and all four men were constantly hauling in the spoil and depositing it in a slimy, writhing mass on the bottom boards.
From the spot where the boat lay at anchor, the cliffs were so high that the observation hill was hidden by the beetling crags. There was a sandy beach that terminated abruptly at about a hundred yards from each of the limits of the bay. Towards the northernmost part the cliffs, although smooth and projecting towards the top, were considerably rugged at the base, a fact that Burgoyne had been unable to notice from his point of vantage on the brink of the precipice. There were one or two caves, but of what extent, and whether their floors were above high-water mark, he had no means of ascertaining. Almost immediately above the nearmost cave was the end of the iron fence enclosing the compound. It projected at least six feet beyond the edge of the cliff, and, fanwise, the same distance below it.
"That'll be a bit of a nut to crack, sir," observed one of the men, reading the Third Officer's thought.
The speaker was Jasper Minalto, one of theDonibristle'squartermasters, a native of St. Mary's in the Scilly Islands. Tall and broad-shouldered, and with the raven locks and flashing eyes that characterize so many of the Cornish folk, his strength and agility were remarkable. In the dog-watches, during theDonibristle'suninterrupted runs across the Pacific, Minalto would amuse and astonish his messmates by his feats of strength. He could break a "nickel" between the tips of the thumb and forefinger of either hand; snap a piece of whipcord on the muscles of his arms or legs; but his show piece was to bend the galley poker by striking it against his bare forearm. Yet, in spite of his ponderous bulk and brute strength, he was an easy-tempered, good-natured man whose almost unlimited energy was concealed under an exterior of careless repose. He would seem to tackle a job with lazy indifference, but in nine cases out of ten he would finish it thoroughly long before others engaged upon a similar task.
"Do you think that fence would baulk you, Minalto?" asked Alwyn.
The quartermaster deliberately hauled a struggling fish into the boat as he replied:
"Say the word, sir, and I'll du it. Afore I wur nine I'd scale the fence at Star Castle, down at home, an' it wur no better nor worse than yon, I'll allow."
Minalto spoke without any indication of bragging, and Burgoyne, knowing his reputation, realized that this was the man he wanted. When the opportunity occurred, the Scilly Islander would be the man chosen to accompany him upon the daring expedition that was already being developed in Burgoyne's mind.
At about eleven in the forenoon Ah Ling, remarking "Muchee finee; upee anchor ", announced that it was time for the fishing operations to end.
With seventy pounds of fish to their credit, the men rowed back to the harbour. Burgoyne's "catch" was the smallest, but he had obtained some very useful information which he hoped to employ to good purpose at the first favourable opportunity.
Nevertheless it came as a bit of a shock when, on emerging out of the tunnel, he was stopped by Black Strogoff.
"I gave orders for your men to go to fish," exclaimed the pirate angrily. "Your place is with the men up there."
He pointed to the cliff on which some of theDonibristle'screw were still laboriously hauling cargo from the beach.
"Another time," continued Strogoff—"another time you go to fish instead of work the crane, I'll have you beaten till you cannot stand. You got that? Good, an' don't you forget it."
Alwyn thought he had got off lightly, but he was mistaken, for without warning Black Strogoff struck him violently in the face with his clenched fist. Luckily the British officer saw the blow coming and moved his head smartly aside. Thus the blow, which was intended for his nose, glanced from his cheek.
Strogoff had hoped to rouse Burgoyne into a state of fury, and thus find an excuse for using his automatic. He would not have dared to strike the unarmed Englishman but for the fact that there were twenty or more pirates with him.
With a tremendous effort Burgoyne kept himself under control. He had not only himself to consider but his three comrades. In fact, Jasper Minalto was on the point of taking up the cudgels on his officer's behalf, when Alwyn stopped him.
"Afraid, eh?" remarked Strogoff scornfully.
"Not in the least," replied Burgoyne in even tones that surprised himself. "If you would like a set-to, a fight with fists, I'll be happy to oblige you, or anyone else you care to mention."
"Fists, eh? Barbarian sport," sneered Black Strogoff. Then, swayed by a sudden inspiration, he shouted to one of the onlookers, a huge, hulking Peruvian.
"Ver' well," he continued. "We will have sport."
"And what happens when I knock out the man?" inquired Burgoyne.
Black Strogoff roared with laughter.
"There is no need to ask that," he replied. "He will not be the one who will be conquered. Are you ready to try?"
"I'd prefer to deal withyou," declared Burgoyne pointedly.
The pirate lieutenant ignored the suggestion, and, beckoning to the Peruvian to approach, he gave directions to which the latter replied by grinning broadly.
Meanwhile Ramon Porfirio and his henchman Henriques had appeared upon the scene. To them Black Strogoff explained the situation. It rather appealed to them to see a lightly-built Englishman pitted against a seventeen-stone pirate. They, too, had no doubt as to the result, and the contest would amuse the crowd of ruffians. Some of the latter had evidently had some experience of boxing contests in American and British ports, for with the utmost celerity—a marked contrast to their languid movements in their leisure time—they drove in four stout posts and stretched the ropes enclosing the ring.
A more inappropriate spot could hardly be found. The ring was staked out on slightly shelving ground in the full glare of the mid-day sun. Crowding up to the posts was a steadily increasing swarm of pirates, those living on the island being augmented by the majority of the crew of theMalfilio. Three hundred yards away the prisoners working the crane ceased operations to watch the spectacle of one of their officers pitted against the huge Peruvian.
Burgoyne was still in his shirt sleeves. He did not attempt to emulate the example of his opponent, who had stripped to the waist, revealing a powerfully-built frame, huge muscles, and a decided excess of fatness. The rest of his garb consisted of a pair of blue canvas trousers, with an orange scarf round the waist, and a pair of leather sea-boots.
"I wish I were in your place, sir," whispered Minalto, who had been chosen to act as Alwyn's second. "I'd just love tu dust that chap. He's heavy on his pins tu be sure. Keep him on the move, sir, until he tires like, an' then go for his heart."
Burgoyne nodded. He was of the same opinion himself as to the tactical programme. He realized that once the Peruvian got in a direct blow he would be whirled over the ropes like a feather.
"Two minute rounds, I suppose," inquired Alwyn.
"Certainly not," replied Black Strogoff. "A fight to a finish. Why end the fight in two minutes?"
Burgoyne explained the nature of the word "rounds", which was a stranger to the pirate lieutenant's otherwise expansive knowledge of English. But Strogoff was obdurate. To his mind the act of stopping two combatants in the heat of the fight was simply absurd.
Briskly vaulting over the ropes, Alwyn watched his opponent climb into the ring. There was no signal to commence. Like a charging bull the Peruvian rushed straight at the clean-limbed Englishman.
With a lithe, natural movement Burgoyne cleared his corner, ducked under the flail-like arm of his opponent, and, seizing the opportunity, he did what he had not intended to do at that stage of the proceedings. Before the Peruvian could turn, Burgoyne's right fist shot out and dealt the pirate a stinging blow on the left side.
It might have punished an ordinary man, but in this case it merely warned the pirate to be cautious in his movements. The blundering rush was succeeded by a slower yet ponderous attack, before which Burgoyne retreated, taking care to keep well away from the ropes. Once during the next minute did Alwyn essay to strike under the arms of his antagonist.
He certainly got home, but in return received a mighty swing of the Peruvian's left that, glancing from his shoulder, gave Burgoyne such a clout on the head that for a few seconds everything seemed to be whirling round and round. Yet he had the sense to evade the following rush, until through sheer breathlessness the pirate brought up in the centre of the ring.
The brief respite cleared the mist from Burgoyne's eyes. In wind he was comparatively fresh. If he could only succeed in playing with the huge pirate for another minute, and avoid another heavy blow, he might be able to take the offensive.
The latter, goaded by the action and encouraged by the shouts of his comrades, lurched across the ring, delivering blow after blow, all of which Alwyn avoided with comparative ease. And thus, with no hit recorded, the third minute passed.
By this time the temper of the onlookers changed. They were there to see a close fight with plenty of blood flowing. The spectacle of a big man blindly chasing a smaller and agile one round and round the ring did not appeal to them. They yelled to the Peruvian to get to business and pulverize the Englishman.
With a loud yell the South American made another frantic rush. Even as he waited Burgoyne could not help feeling amused. The shout was so typical of the half-breeds, and so utterly foreign to the British boxing-ring. If it were meant to strike terror into Burgoyne's heart the Peruvian never made a greater mistake.
Anticipating a repetition of his opponent's former tactics the half-caste guarded his left side. Quick as lightning Burgoyne slipped under his extended right arm; but even as he did so the Peruvian hacked with his leather-booted leg.
Unable to check his rush Alwyn measured his length and more upon the turf. Before he could regain his feet the half-caste was upon him, dealing windmill-like blows upon his head and shoulders, while the crowd of pirates yelled with enthusiasm. The protesting voices of Jasper Minalto and his companions were drowned in the torrent of applause. Not content with using his fists, the Peruvian was again bringing his heavy boots into play.
Regardless of the consequences, Minalto was in the act of leaping over the rope when he stopped in sheer wonderment, for the white and almost motionless, prostrate figure had sprung into activity.
It was the Peruvian's cowardly performance with his boots that gave Burgoyne his chance. In his blind fury the half-caste slipped. Before he could recover his balance Alwyn was up and striking hard. The Peruvian's enormous hand was gripping his neck, but Burgoyne was jabbing lightning-like punches right over the fellow's heart. Like the rattle of a pneumatic hammer the Englishman's right fist pummelled his opponent's ribs, until the half-caste's clutch relaxed. Breaking away, Burgoyne summoned his remaining energies and delivered a terrific straight left full on the point of the pirate's jaw. The force of the blow lifted the huge bulk completely off the ground. Staggering and already unconscious, he toppled backward over the ropes into the midst of the crowd of spectators.
Jasper Minalto was just in time to catch Alwyn in his arms. Without any attempt being made to stop him the Scilly Islander carried off the insensible victor to the compound, and placed him in his hut.
Three hours later Burgoyne recovered consciousness. His head and face had come off comparatively lightly, but his ribs were black and blue, his left shoulder was laid open almost to the bone, while his shins were raw through violent contact with the Peruvian's boots.
Burgoyne was alone. The working day had not yet ended. Someone had patched him up. Cautious investigation on his part resulted in the knowledge that none of his limbs was broken, because they were not in splints, but he ached in every limb, and his tongue, hot and parched, seemed too big for his mouth.
"I'm a downright ass," he soliloquized. "Instead of pretending to knuckle under and take advantage of what I've seen, I've got myself laid out.Cui bono?Dashed if I know!"
But the fight, purposeless as it appeared to Burgoyne, had its good results. The Peruvian had not only been knocked out, but his eyesight was permanently impaired. That in itself was nothing to gloat over. When, later on, Alwyn did learn of the extent of the damage he had inflicted he felt sorry for the man. It was not his quarrel. He had been practically ordered to fight on Black Strogoff's behalf, and although he was a bad sportsman, judged by British ideas, he had been well punished by being knocked out.
But the matter did not end there. The luckless Peruvian had been by far and away the best gun-layer of theMalfilio'scomplement. He was now useless and could not be replaced by an equally competent man, and consequently Ramon Porfirio was in a towering rage with Black Strogoff for having been the means of depriving him of a most useful man. Henriques sided with his chief. For some time past no love had been lost between the two pirate lieutenants, and now the rift threatened to develop into an impassable abyss.
Burgoyne's solitary meditations were interrupted by the appearance of the purser and Barnes the steward, the latter carrying a tin pannikin of lime juice.
"That's better, Mr. Burgoyne," exclaimed Holmes, seeing that the patient had recovered consciousness. "My word, that was some fight by all accounts. You didn't half sock the blighter."
Alwyn drank deeply before replying:
"S'pose it was," he admitted. "Goodness only knows why I did take the fellow on, though. How long shall I have to stop here, do you think?"
"Matter of a couple of days," replied the purser. "Pity you didn't settle that chap Strogoff. He didn't attend afternoon parade, thank goodness, but he was fooling around all the blessed morning, finding fault with things."
Burgoyne raised himself on one elbow. The movement sent a thrill of pain all over his body.
"He didn't see Miss Vivian, I hope?" he asked anxiously.
"Young Bill? No. Young Bill was kept in the background, so to speak. Hello! Here come the others. Hadn't any idea it was knocking-off time."
Branscombe grinned sympathetically when he saw his chum.
"You low-down bruiser!" he exclaimed. "Did they teach you that in the navy?"
"Partly," admitted Alwyn. "I'm afraid I departed somewhat from the recognized canons of the ring towards the end. Had to, or I mightn't have been here now. Well, any news?"
Phil divested himself of his soiled patrol coat, and revealed the fact that he had encompassed his waist with an uncut length of about ten fathoms of inch-and-a-half manila rope.
"A slight contribution to the general fund, eh, what, Withers?"
The Second Engineer produced his share of the day's plunder; one hack-saw blade and four pieces of files each about three inches in length.
"I had Satan's own job to get them," he explained. "The hack-saw blade I managed by a sort of three-card trick, and old Li Whong never twigged it. I spend most of the time in the workshop breaking off the tips of eighteen-inch files and rounding off the jagged edges. Li issued twenty-four out to the men, and twenty-four were returned; but he didn't notice that, instead of eight eighteen-inch and ten fourteen-inch, he received four eighteens and fourteen fourteens. How's that, umpire?"
"Excellent," conceded Burgoyne.
"'Spose you haven't formed a satisfactory programme?" inquired Branscombe. "Hardly to be expected from a battered old prize-fighter like you."
"I have," replied Alwyn, "subject to alterations. In the first place, any idea of surprising the guard must be scrapped. Although there are more prisoners than guards when theMalfiliois away, there's too much alertness on the part of the pirates to warrant success. We'd be bowled over like rabbits, especially if they caught us out in the open with those machine-guns. What I propose doing is to select a small crew—unfortunately I can't take it on, as I'm senior man here—cut out one of the boats, provision her, and make a dash for the Marshall Islands."
"That's all very fine," admitted Phil, after Alwyn had explained his movements earlier in the day "Collaring the boat seems feasible; but how about provisioning her? We can't lug fifteen days' grub down through that tunnel and stow it away. And there's fresh water to be taken into account. We've no barricoes. Even if we had, how could we get, say, thirty gallons, or nearly three hundredweight of water to the boat?"
"That is a proposition," admitted Burgoyne thoughtfully. "Ten gallons ought to be sufficient, though. We must devise some way of getting hold of a barrel or two. Now as regards provisioning the boat. Has anyone a pencil?"
Withers supplied the required article.
"Phew!" ejaculated Burgoyne. "I feel like one of those 'Every Picture tells a Story' advertisements we used to see in the papers at home. You fellows carry on with your grub while I draw a rough chart of the island. I don't think it will be very much out."
In spite of several interruptions, and at the cost of considerable physical discomfort, Burgoyne completed the plan.
"Now," he continued, "there's a free passage right round the island inside the reef. Here's our compound; there's where the fence ends on the western side. Right underneath is a cave. If that won't suit, probably the others will. What's to prevent us going down by means of a rope and exploring? If everything's O.K. we can lower our reserve stock of provisions, and hide the stuff in the cave until it's wanted. Then, when opportunity serves, the crew told off to cut out the lifeboat will run her round one dark night, provision, and be more than hull down before dawn. If they fall in with a ship, so much the better. If not, they can make the Marshall Islands, and in less than a month there ought to be half a dozen cruisers off the island."
"Sounds all right," admitted Branscombe. "But how about a course?"
"I've a compass," replied Alwyn. "It's only a pocket one, and I don't know what the variation and deviation are. But steer due south and one can't go wrong. Whoever goes in charge of the boat takes the compass."
"Who will?" asked Withers.
"Branscombe," replied the Third Officer. "At least, he's down for the job. I can't go, unfortunately, but Phil is the only other officer available who has had experience in boat-sailing and navigation."
"Thanks, old son!" exclaimed Phil.
"You haven't gone yet, dear old thing," rejoined Burgoyne. "However, there's no harm in thinking things out. Another point is the crew. One hand will be sufficient. I would suggest that Scilly Islander, Minalto."
"A decent sort," conceded Branscombe.
"Yes," resumed Alwyn. "He started boat-sailing early in life. It's a sort of instinct with the Scilly Islanders, since they can't go a couple of miles in a straight line without having to make use of a boat. He's a bit slow on the up-take, but he can interpret an order intelligently. He's got initiative, and doesn't hang on to the slack——"
"My child!" ejaculated Withers, rolling his eyes. "Why this thusness?"
"You'd know quick enough if I could lay hold of you," declared Burgoyne with mock severity. "Now, buzz off, if you don't mind. I have some sort of idea that my head's aching."
Burgoyne did not get up on the following day, nor on the next. Before he was fit to resume control a week had passed. Phil Branscombe "carried on" for him, and the forced labour proceeded as leisurely as the pirate crew permitted.
As far as the occupants of the compound were concerned, Black Strogoff was a back number. Not since Burgoyne's encounter with the Peruvian had he put in an appearance. One result of the quarrel between Ramon Porfirio and Strogoff was the latter's transference to theMalfilio, where he was less likely to cause trouble than if left to influence a certain section of the pirates ashore. Fernando, Strogoff's understudy, was undoubtedly a brute and lacked the intelligence of the Russo-German, and the various members of the crews of the three captured ships soon found that Fernando could be easily hoodwinked.
During the week in which Burgoyne was detained within the compound, he was kept well in touch with the progress of events. TheMalfilioduring that period remained in harbour. Withers, who had been sent on board the cruiser to assist in executing repairs reported that her machinery was far from being in an efficient state, and that during her last trip to sea she had burst the main steam-pipe of her starboard engine. What had transpired during that short cruise he was unable to ascertain; but it was evident that Ramon Porfirio was in a very "jumpy" state.
In point of fact, theMalfiliowas overhauling an oil-tanker when the steam-pipe gave out. Consequently the pursued vessel got away; but whether she had any suspicion of the nature of the cruiser was a matter for doubt in the pirate captain's mind. If she had, then her escape would mean that the world would know of the existence of a pirate craft in the North Pacific, and in due time things would be made far too hot for Señor Ramon Porfirio.
Alwyn saw a good deal of Young Bill during his convalescence. The girl's visits brought balm to his mind, but he would not have felt quite so elated had he known that Hilda impartially distributed her favours between all the "sick bay" cases amongst theDonibristle'screw.
"I suppose you are properly fed up, being cooped on this island?" asked Burgoyne.
"Not at all," replied Miss Vivian. "It's rather exciting, especially wondering how we are going to get out of it. If things get no worse there's not much to complain about. It was very hard losing Mother, and both Dad and I feel the loss very much. But apart from that there's nothing much to worry about—except carrying out your orders, sir," she added, with an enigmatical smile.
"I'm glad you did that," said Alwyn.
"Supposing I had refused to wear these clothes, and insisted upon keeping my face clean? As it is, I renew my charcoal powder three times a day."
"Had you refused I should have taken steps to compel you," declared Burgoyne firmly.
"I don't see how," remarked Hilda.
"It is unnecessary to give details," said Alwyn, his face growing stern. "I can tell you this; if those ruffians had found out your sex you would have been shot."
"Shot?" repeated the girl, unable to conceal her astonishment. "By whom?"
"I should have done it," was Burgoyne's startling reply. "With the full consent of your father. If you wish to know why, ask him."
Hilda Vivian changed the subject abruptly. Nor did Burgoyne ever have to refer to the matter again It was, he reflected, a brutally drastic step to take, but it had the desired result. The girl realized that it was not an idle masquerade, but the shadow of a great peril, that compelled her to assume the rôle of ship's boy.
A surprise awaited Alwyn when he was able to resume duty. Captain Blair had made a rapid recovery, and was now able to resume his interrupted control of theDonibristle'sofficers and crew to the extent permitted by Señor Ramon Porfirio and company.
Alwyn accepted the change most cheerfully. Although for certain reasons he was loth to relinquish many of his responsibilities, he was now left with a relatively free hand. He could pursue his investigations with less fear of inside interruptions, since any question of routine would be made direct to the skipper. He would also be able to take command of the lifeboat, if and when she started on her long voyage to the Marshall Islands. It was rather rough luck on Branscombe, he reflected, being done out of that part of the excitement, but there was no question as to who was the better man at handling a small sailing-boat.
At the first opportunity Burgoyne broached the subject to Captain Blair. The Old Man listened carefully to the Third Officer's recital, then, to the latter's utter astonishment he said:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Burgoyne, but I refuse to give you or anyone else permission to make the attempt."