Professor Mole was cooler than any one else.
He helped himself to a glass of wine and smiled blandly, blinking through his eye-glasses.
When we say cooler, we are alluding to the state of his mind, not of his body.
He was perspiring as freely as everyone else.
In fact, all people find time to do in the Red Sea is to indulge in unlimited perspiration.
Occasionally they find time to look at something to eat, take a drink—coffee or tea—the water is abominable, and snatch a little sleep.
“If some unknown steamer is about to run us down I am prepared,” Mole exclaimed.
“For what, sir?” asked Harry.
“The inevitable conclusion. The impact. The destruction—the immersion.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“I have a life belt.”
“Where did you find it?”
“In the confined hole, they, on this dirty little schooner, call a stateroom. Pshaw! Cabin is not good enough for it. I have been in forecastle berths superior to it, my boy.”
“That is very likely,” said Harry; “our schooner is only a make shift.”
“I should call it a fraud.”
“Call it what you like, and you won’t call it out of its name, but I say, have you any more life belts left?”
“They are hanging up there by the half dozen.”
“Go and get some, there’s a good fellow.”
Mr. Mole looked sternly at Girdwood.
“Harry,” he cried, “when did your nigger die? Am I to be your servant?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we not all equal here?”
“I hope so.”
“Am I not a man and a brother?”
“I don’t exactly understand the relationship existing between us.”
Mr. Mole pointed to Monday.
“There is the distinguished nigger,” he continued, “who ought to do your work; let him fetch life belts; I have got mine on.”
“You thought you would be ahead of us.”
“I am never left in the lurch.”
Harry nodded to Monday.
The latter took the hint and went for the belts, returning with a full supply.
Each one took the precaution of using a belt in case of an accident.
If the ship were to founder, they would not sink, but float on the sea.
That would give them a chance of being picked up.
It is well known that sailors have clung for hours to a spar or a hen coop.
Kardofan had gone on deck again.
Presently he came below.
“Ship coming nearer, sahib,” he cried. “Hear the beat-beat of the engines closer than ebber before.”
“Can’t you do anything?” asked Harry.
“Me fire pistol shot, but it do no good at all.”
Hearing this, Harry ordered Clara, Mole and Monday to follow him to the deck.
They did so.
There was a white mist which made everything impenetrable at a few yards’ distance.
That, however, did not obviate danger.
It rather increased the probability.
Clara clung to Harry’s arm.
“God help us,” she murmured. “Shall I ever see Jack again?”
“Yes, yes, of course you will,” replied Harry, trying to comfort her.
This was rather a difficult feat to accomplish under the circumstances.
“Not in this world, I fear,” she said, tearfully.
Without any warning a dark form burst upon them.
The Arab sailors who had gathered forward were dreadfully alarmed.
Some of them jumped into the sea.
They were in that moment of peril fearfully afraid of the imminence of being run down.
Others threw themselves on the deck, resigning themselves to their fate.
This was done with the passivity of Orientals.
To them it was merely Kismet—fate—what will be must be—the inevitable, against which it was useless to struggle for a moment.
A large ocean steamer was crowding down upon them.
The sailing vessel was struck amidships.
She split in half.
Harry Girdwood, Mole, Monday and Clara were precipitated into the water.
With a loud cry Kardofan sank.
He had been struck by a splinter which broke one of his arms.
The unhappy man never rose again.
As quickly as possible the steamer stopped and lowered boats.
She was not injured, but the concussion was felt.
The captain knew that there had been an accident.
It was his duty to save all the lives he could.
Three sailors were rescued with Girdwood and the rest of his party.
They were taken on board half drowned and promptly attended to.
Harry went into the captain’s cabin and gave his card.
“I am sorry this accident should have happened, Mr. Girdwood,” said the captain, “but in such weather what can you expect!”
“How can I blame you?” replied Harry. “The fog is as thick as mud.”
“My name is Nares. My ship the Benares of the P. & O. line. We will compensate you for your loss. Was yours a yacht?”
“No. A schooner.”
“Are you in trade here?”
“It will be necessary, Mr. Nares, to tell you my story.”
“I will listen to it with pleasure.”
“If it is too long I must apologize and claim your kind attention.”
“My time is at your disposal.”
“Good!”
Harry told him what had happened to Young Jack Harkaway and himself in Arabia, and recent events in Mecca.
He also mentioned the name of Hunston.
But he kept the most important bit of news to the last.
This was the fact that Koosh and the pirates of the Red Sea intended to wreck the Benares.
False lights were to be used for plundering purposes.
What mattered the death of scores to these venomous pests of the ocean.
“Yours is a strange story,” said Captain Nares, offering his unexpected visitor a cigar.
“Strange but true,” replied Harry. “My friend, Harkaway, is a great traveler. We have explored nearly every part of the globe.”
“Been to the North Pole?”
“No one has succeeded in getting there yet, and I don’t see what would be gained by finding the desolate region of ice and perpetual snow.”
“No chance of an open Polar Sea, eh?”
“Not the slightest.”
“What then?”
“An utter blank, the abomination of desolation, as described by the prophet Isaiah.”
“I’m not much on dead prophets,” said Captain Nares, “nor on living ones either; but is there no northwest passage?”
“No; talk about the South Pole; no one seems to interest himself about that.”
The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the first officer.
“The fog is thickening, sir,” he said. “There is electricity in the air.”
“Can’t trust the compass?”
“Not to any great extent. We may run ashore at any moment.”
“Have you looked at the chart?”
“Yes; we are near a place called Pilgrim’s Rest.”
“Instruct the first engineer to slow the engines to five knots an hour and keep the fog bell going.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Attend to this at once.”
The first officer left the cabin.
Captain Nares and Harry Girdwood were left alone together again.
There was a serious expression on each of their faces.
“I have forgotten one thing of importance,” the captain said.
“What is that?” asked Harry.
“I can telephone to the deck. Listen! On a coast like this it is necessary to take soundings.”
“Of course. There are reefs?”
“Yes. The line must be thrown out all the time.”
Captain Nares signified his intentions to his lieutenant, and was more satisfied.
He had taken every precaution he could.
If anything happened, people could not say that he was to blame in the matter.
“You are wise in guarding against accidents,” remarked Harry.
“I should be a fool if I did not,” was the rejoinder.
“Do you know my reason for making that observation?”
“How should I, Mr. Girdwood?”
“Koosh, the famous pirate of the Red Sea, has organized a plot to wreck the Benares.”
Captain Nares started.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
This was intelligence that made him turn pale.
The Benares was a mail ship, classed A1 at Lloyd’s, and she had over a hundred first-class passengers on board.
Her destination was the Straits settlements, but she stopped at various places on her way.
She was due at Aden in a short time, which is a coaling station at the mouth of the Red Sea.
Harry informed Captain Nares of what the trader on the derelict had told him.
It might have been a story hatched out of the inner consciousness of the Arab.
Yet it would not do to disregard it.
“False lights!” exclaimed the captain.
“Near Pilgrim’s Rest,” replied Harry.
“To lure us on the rocks—rob and plunder us.”
“They know that you have in your hold fifty large cases, filled with silver bars, and ten boxes of gold.”
“Thanks for the news.”
“You will be prepared for them.”
“What do you take me for? A wooden figure in a joss house?” asked the captain, laughing.
“Not exactly. You don’t look like it.”
“Now I have to tell you something,” said Nares, “which will astonish you as much as you have surprised me.”
“My eyes are open and my ears too.”
“Young Jack Harkaway’s enemy, Hunston, is a passenger on board this ship.”
“Never!”
“It is a fact.”
This was what is vulgarly called a staggerer for Harry Girdwood.
Hunston was always turning up at unexpected intervals.
At the same time he knew that he could not hurt him.
The only thing that troubled him was this:
He would be taken a long way by the Benares.
How would he be able to help Jack, as requested in his recent letter?
That was the problem.
Every mile they went conveyed him further from Jack.
All at once the door of the cabin was darkened.
A tall, angular form appeared.
The sinister face of Hunston was revealed.
“Excuse me, captain,” he exclaimed, “I hope I don’t intrude. I came to inquire about the situation.”
“It is serious,” replied Nares, “but I do not think we need be alarmed.”
“These Red Sea fogs are dangerous.”
“Well, I know it to my sorrow. I lost a ship off this coast years ago.”
“Are you taking proper precautions?”
“Well, if I don’t know my business, who should? We are heaving the lead constantly.”
“Pardon me. I am naturally anxious.”
At this moment Hunston cast his eyes on Harry.
He trembled visibly.
“Mr. Girdwood,” he exclaimed, “this is an unexpected pleasure, upon my word.”
“You did not expect to see me.”
“Indeed not. Where is your friend, Harkaway?” inquired Hunston.
“Where I do not suppose you will see him any more than I shall.”
“How is that?”
“He was captured by pirates, and I am informed that he has been taken to a place on the coast near here, called the ‘Pilgrim’s Rest.’”
“Always in some queer adventure.”
“That is his fate, but as you are his avowed enemy, it is singular that you take any interest in him.”
“I don’t,” answered Hunston, rudely. “I want to get at him, but he always slips through my fingers.”
“Yes. I guess he knows too much for you.”
Harry laughed scornfully as he spoke.
“Do you imagine the pirates will kill him?”
“Not if he buys himself off. Money talks in this country as well as in others.”
“We all want the circulating medium. May I ask how you came on board the Benares. This is the first time I have seen you.”
Harry told Hunston that he was picked up after the collision, and that Clara, Mole and Monday were also saved.
“I was told,” said Hunston, “that you and Harkaway had gone back to India.”
“Is that why you are bound the same way?”
“Surely. I shall never leave off tracing Young Jack as long as I have breath in my body.”
“That does not seem to do you much good.”
“It is my sole purpose in life.”
Suddenly there was a shock.
The big ship quivered from stem to stern.
There was the sound of a rush of water.
It was clear that the Benares had struck upon a rock.
They had got into shoal water and were nearer the coast than they had any idea of.
“Good God!” cried Captain Nares, “we have struck.”
“It would appear so,” replied Harry.
The captain hurriedly left the cabin and made his way on deck.
There was the greatest confusion among the passengers who were running to and fro like lost sheep.
A panic had sprung up amongst them.
Nares ascertained that the ship was leaking badly and taking in water.
It was several feet deep in the engine-room.
The fires were speedily extinguished.
It seemed as if the steamship Benares of the P. and O. was doomed to be a total wreck.
To add to the confusion and amazement which prevailed on board, the wind arose.
It lashed the sea into foam.
Thunder crashed and lightning flashed vividly.
The thick white mist was dissipated as if by magic.
Rain fell in torrents with tropical violence.
It was a terrible scene as the waves dashed over the magnificent but crippled liner.
Captain Nares endeavored to grapple with the difficulty by lowering the boats.
The first lifeboat was staved in against the ship’s side as soon as it touched the water.
A second one floated, but when it was filled with passengers, principally women and children, it capsized.
All were drowned.
The shrieks and cries of the perishing were pitiful in the extreme.
They made strong men shudder.
As quickly as it came the storm swept away, and the heavy sea subsided.
The moon shone out again in the star-studded sky.
It was a night of horror.
By this time the Benares had sunk down on the reef, her state-rooms being filled with water.
Shifting lights could be seen in the distance, which showed that they were not far from the land.
This revealed an additional danger to Nares.
He fancied that the pirates spoken of by Girdwood were at hand.
They must be in the vicinity of the town called Pilgrim’s Rest.
There was now an opportunity of effecting a landing, yet the danger was great.
The pirates, of course, would be hostile.
As for the Benares, she was a wreck and must be abandoned.
A salvage corps could be brought from Aden, but that would take time.
Half the passengers had been drowned when the life boats were swamped.
The other half could be landed in the remaining boats.
How would they be treated when they reached the shore?
Captain Nares and his officers, with praiseworthy pluck, resolved to remain on the ship.
If the pirates attacked them, they meant to fight to the best of their ability.
The boats were lowered and filled at daybreak, with sun shining, a soft wind blowing, and everything serene.
What a contrast the day made with the night.
It was surprising.
“I think,” said Girdwood to Nares, “that you are risking your life.”
“I know it,” was the rejoinder.
“Why stay here?”
“I owe a duty to the owners. I am sending a man to Mecca to telegraph to our agent at Aden for speedy assistance.”
“It will be a long time coming.”
“Not so long as you think,” replied Nares. “I have every hope of being relieved shortly.”
“Good-bye and good luck!”
“Thank you. I wish you the same.”
They shook hands.
Harry, with his party, got into one of the boats. They were rowed towards the shore.
The captain, his officers and part of the crew remained on the ship.
Hunston was one of the departing passengers.
Mr. Mole had not seen or heard anything of the storm, and knew nothing of the wreck until the water roused him in his berth.
He had gone to sleep with his clothes on.
It did not take him more than two minutes to scramble on deck.
All those who were saved were very much dejected, with the exception of Harry and Clara.
They hoped that after all the vicissitudes they had gone through, they would meet Jack.
The chance had seemed very remote.
He stood greatly in need of their help.
They had not gone far before they perceived three boats leaving the shore.
These were filled with fierce, bearded men.
A consultation was held between those in the two boats of the Benares.
It was determined to press on.
Anything they had to encounter could not be worse than returning to the steamer.
The boats met one another.
From the appearance of the bearded men, they were taken for desperate characters.
In reality they were the pirates of the Red Sea.
Koosh headed them and he was assisted by Kassala.
The pirates made no attempt to molest the shipwrecked.
They rowed on to the Benares with a steady sweep.
“I never saw a more ruffianly set of brutes in all my life,” observed Mole.
“Pretty tough crowd,” replied Monday; “they cut a throat as soon as look.”
“However, they leave us alone.”
“What of the ship, sah?”
“By the great Jove, they will make short work of those on board!”
“That’s so; more’s the pity.”
Before the shore was reached the sound of firing was heard.
The pirates had attacked the Benares.
They swarmed up her side like bees, though many of them were shot down and fell into the sea.
What happened afterwards could only be imagined.
The dismal fact was not revealed for some time afterwards.
Then it was ascertained that Captain Nares, his officers and crew were shot down or cut to pieces.
They made a desperate resistance.
Every man fought gallantly.
Koosh eventually was the victor.
The treasure and everything of value became the property of the visitors.
They had made a bold bid for the victory and won it.
The rich booty was theirs.
“Devils!” said Clara, with her teeth clenched tightly.
“For of such is the region of—a place that shall be nameless,” replied Harry.
In a short time the shore was reached.
All disembarked.
They had lost their all.
Nothing was saved except the clothes they stood upright in.
They had no shelter, no guide, no food, no water.
Imagine the distressing situation.
Fortunately they found a palm grove; nuts were plentiful.
There were also some date trees and a spring.
“This is better than nothing,” said Clara.
“Yes,” replied Harry, “you can exist here.”
“And you—where are you going?”
“Exploring. I want to find Jack.”
“Good boy. I hope you will succeed. Give him my love,” Clara added.
“You can depend on that.”
Monday had been listening.
“Me go with you, sah?” he asked.
“If you like.”
“Me stand the racket.”
“Good enough! Come along!” answered Harry.
They started together, fully armed, to find out Pilgrim’s Rest.
No time had to be lost.
Jack was in peril, and his friends could not remain quiet while he was missing.
But where was he?
That was what they had to discover.
Hunston, however, was watching them, although they knew it not.