Читать книгу: «The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story», страница 12

He fumbled with the lid, then, struck by the thought that a lot of the glamour of the discovery of hidden specie and bullion would be lost unless he viewed his find in the glare of a torch, he retraced his footsteps and rejoined Alwyn and Peter.

"Girt sea-chest!" he announced excitedly. "Lifted 'en lid, I did."

"And the pig?" asked the matter-of-fact Burgoyne.

"Drat that pig!" exclaimed Minalto explosively. "The chest, sir. Ef us had a light, like… sort o' torch, now say?"

"How about it, Peter?" asked Alwyn, turning to the Wireless Officer.

"We'll manage that," replied Mostyn confidently. "Let's get out of the thicket. Suppose we ought to beat a clear path through this stuff?"

Burgoyne shook his head.

"No," he decided; "we won't disturb it more than necessary. The less we do the better. If we're careful we ought to be able to take a lighted torch into the cave without setting fire to the brushwood outside."

Returning to the open, they explained the delay to Hilda, whose eagerness to explore the cave was only quelled by the knowledge that the dying pig was somewhere in that gloomy vault. She would have endured the thorny passage without complaint; but there were limits, and the expiring porker was beyond them.

Hurrying back to the camp, Mostyn returned with his fire-making gear, and proceeded to work. Meanwhile Burgoyne and Minalto had wrenched off some resinous branches to serve as torches.

"All ready!" announced Peter.

With a torch burning faintly, Minalto forced his way under the scrub, Burgoyne and Mostyn following in his tracks. At the mouth of the cave they coaxed the flames into greater activity, and from it lighted two more torches.

Jasper advanced boldly. He had been there before. His companions followed cautiously, until the glare of the reddish flames revealed the treasure-chest.

It was in fairly good condition, having been painted white with a black lid. There were rope beckets at each end, rove through two large half-round wooden chocks.

The lid creaked on its hinges as Jasper threw it back. Then he gave a howl of disappointment. All the chest contained was a rusty cutlass, a clay pipe with a broken stem, and a number of brown paper bundles containing candles all stuck together by the heat.

"So much for your treasure, Jasper!" said Burgoyne with a laugh. "Never mind; we found something useful, the candles especially."

"P'raps 'en buried et," suggested Minalto hopefully, casting anxious glances at the walls and floor of the cave.

Burgoyne made no remark. He was deeply interested in the construction of the cave. It was partly natural and partly artificial. Human hands had enlarged the entrance and "faired off" the walls. In length it was about forty feet, and twenty in breadth, with a hewn pillar in the centre to give greater support to the roof. Except for the chest there were no other relics of the previous occupier. In one corner lay the pig, by this time quite dead.

"No use stopping here," decided Alwyn. "Bend that rope round the pig, Minalto, and we'll haul the brute out. Yes, bring the cutlass, Peter, and a couple of packets of candles. The others can stop, in case we want them here."

"Want them here?" repeated Mostyn.

"Rather," replied his chum. "This cave will make an ideal retreat if we have to hide. I hope we shan't, but we must look things fairly in the face. That's why I didn't want the brushwood cleared away. Had it not been for the pig we should not have found the cave, and so most likely no one else will."

"Someone did at one time," remarked Peter.

"Yes, but how long ago we don't know, unless that cutlass gives us a clue. I'll have a look at it when we get into the open. You see, the person or persons who enlarged this place threw the excavated material on a mound just outside. That shows they hadn't any idea of concealing the cave. Since then this scrub has sprung up and hidden it. Now then, Jasper, all ready? Heave away!"

At the mouth of the cave they extinguished their torches, leaving them leaning against the wall in case they might be required again. Then, carrying and hauling their various trophies, the three men rejoined Hilda in the open.

"Now, where's that cutlass?" inquired Alwyn, after relating the story of how their high expectations had been thwarted. "H'm, thought so. Our predecessors on Swan Island weren't so very ancient after all. This is a cutlass-bayonet, Peter, issued to the Navy in the late '70's and '80's. That ring in the guard is where the muzzle went, but I see the spring socket is rusted away. Nice job for you, Peter. You can clean the thing up. It'll do to carve the Christmas dinner if we're here long enough."

CHAPTER XXIV
The Cave proves Useful

During the two days following all hands were kept busily employed. In addition to carrying out the usual routine, they made preparations to lay in a stock of provisions. Mostyn tried his hand at obtaining salt by evaporation, and succeeded in making about a pound of very saline powder. Minalto cut up the porker, reserving some of the meat for present use and pickling the rest. Hilda experimented with making biscuits of taro root finely powdered and bruised between two large stones.

In addition the three men took turns at climbing to the summit of the look-out hill. This they did every four hours in calm weather, and every two hours when the wind blew with any strength, so that no sailing vessel could close with the island between those intervals without first being sighted in the offing.

On the morning of the fourth day Jasper called Burgoyne's attention to a rectangular object lying on the top of a low-lying part of the reef. The tide had fallen exceptionally, and more of the reef was exposed than they had seen before.

"I believe it's our water-tank," declared Alwyn. "That's about where the boat broke her back."

"So I thinks, too, sir," agreed Minalto.

"In that case we'll have the thing ashore," declared Burgoyne. "It would never do to leave such a monument to our mishaps lying in such a conspicuous position."

"How would you bring it across?" asked Mostyn.

"It looks as if it is lying on its side," replied the Third Officer, shading his eyes with his hand. "We'll have to up-right it and let the rising tide float it off. A couple of us could easily swim over there and push it across the lagoon. No, not yet. We'll have to wait for the young flood to make. Meanwhile it's your turn, Jasper, to climb the hill. Nothing like exercise before breakfast."

Minalto swung off, and hurried to perform his task of look-out man. In less than a quarter of an hour he was back again, breathless with running.

"A sail!" he announced pantingly. "Away to nor'ard."

"Dash it all!" exclaimed Burgoyne.

The information disconcerted him. For the sake of his companions both on Swan Island and in the hands of the pirates at the secret base, he would have welcomed the intelligence if he knew for certain that the strange craft was a friendly one. But an instinctive feeling told him that the craft was manned by some of Ramon Porfirio's ruffianly crowd, and that the object of her voyage was to recapture the four fugitives.

Without undue delay all hands hurried to the summit of the hill, Alwyn pausing only to scatter the burning logs over which the morning meal was boiling, Hilda suffering the interruption of her culinary task without protest.

From the elevated look-out post the vessel could be seen fairly clearly. The morning was bright, with no sign of haze, and the craft appeared nearer than she actually was. In spite of the light breeze she was approaching rapidly, so that it was evident that she was equipped with a motor.

She was then about a mile and a half or two miles off the northern part of the island, shaping a course for the eastern side. She was a fore-and-aft schooner, carrying jib-headed top-sails, and was of about eighty tons displacement. She flew no colours.

"What would I not give for my prism binoculars?" sighed Alwyn. "Seen her before, Minalto?"

Jasper nodded. He was still rather breathless.

"Yes," continued Burgoyne, "unless I'm much mistaken she was one of those small craft lying in the pirates' harbour; but I'm hanged if I noticed whether any of them had motors. Well, we'll have to get a move on, Miss Vivian. I'm sorry to say that your wish of a few days ago will have to be complied with. We must hide in the cave, perhaps for several days. I don't suppose those rascals will abandon the search until they've examined every visible part of the island."

"How about the water-tank?" asked Mostyn.

"Too late, now, I'm afraid," replied his chum. "It will be as much as we can do to transfer ourselves and our traps to the cave… This way down; in case they've a glass bearing on us."

Keeping to the south slope of the hill until the tree-tops shut out the sight of the approaching vessel, the fugitives returned to the camp.

There was much to be done in a very short time. The tent was levelled and packed up in the smallest possible compass. The canvas between the two upturned parts of the broken life-boat was removed. The hot embers of the dying fire was carefully scattered, lest they might kindle into flame and smoke. Then, heavily laden with stores and provisions, the four hastened towards the cave.

"One minute, sir!" exclaimed Jasper, stopping short in his tracks and setting down his burden. "If us ain't forgotten the li'l ole cask o' rum."

Burgoyne glanced behind towards the lagoon, a small portion of which was visible through the glade.

"Too late, now," he replied. "The schooner's passing through the reef. Yes, she has an engine right enough. The water-tank must have given us away. Come along, Jasper; you've seen the last of your li'l ole cask, I'm thinking."

There was a stubborn look on Minalto's bronzed and bearded face as he reluctantly re-shouldered his burden. It went sorely against the grain, this tame surrender of what he considered to be his property by finding.

"Come along!" repeated Burgoyne sternly.

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Minalto; then under his breath he added: "an' I hope th' li'l ole cask'll poison the lot o' they."

It was now a slow and cautious business getting the stores and gear into the cave, and in spite of every care Burgoyne noticed with concern that the tracks under the scrub were by no means covered. A keen Malay tracker would be able to find their retreat with little difficulty. The only hope lay in the fact that the crew of the schooner were unskilled in woodcraft, and that the broken twigs and brushwood would escape notice.

"Here's our present abode, Miss Vivian," announced Burgoyne, when the four and their portable property were inside the cave, a couple of candles lighted, and a double sheet of canvas hung across the entrance to screen any gleam from within.

"It reminds me of London during an air-raid," observed Hilda. "I had to spend several nights in a cellar – I was made to go down, but I would have much preferred to stop in an upper room. But there is nothing to be afraid of here as far as bombs are concerned."

"No; silence is the chief consideration," cautioned Alwyn. "I don't suppose they've sent a boat ashore yet, but I think I'll find out."

"Don't run unnecessary risks, please, Mr. Burgoyne," said Hilda.

"Trust me for that, Miss Vivian," declared the Third Officer earnestly. "Risks, yes; unnecessary risks, no. I've no use for the fellow who goes out asking for trouble."

"I'm going with you, old son," said Peter.

"My festive Sparks, you are not," decided Burgoyne. "For the present this is a one-man show. You stop here, and don't stir outside till I come back. All being well, I'll return in twenty minutes, if not before."

Withdrawing the cartridges from his revolver, Alwyn carefully tried the mechanism of the little weapon. Then, after reloading, he thrust the revolver into his hip-pocket, and, with a wave of his hand, disappeared behind the canvas hanging.

It was a tedious wait for the three who remained. Without means of knowing the time, the minutes passed very, very slowly. Peter tried to gauge the interval by observing the burning down of one of the candles. The others waited and listened intently for any sounds that might reach their ears from without the cave. Even the practical Hilda Vivian looked anxious and worried. Mostyn, not usually observant of people's characters, noticed that, and wondered whether the girl was anxious on Burgoyne's account or merely because of the peril that threatened her.

At length Minalto stood up, stretched his huge arms and picked up the cutlass, which Mostyn had brought to a state bordering on perfection, for the blade had been cleaned and sharpened, and the hilt shone like a convex mirror in the candle-light.

"I'm going to look for 'e," he declared in a hoarse whisper.

"You're going to stay here," said Mostyn firmly. "Officer's orders, you know."

Minalto was about to frame an argumentative reply, when a chorus of raucous voices sounded in the distance.

Without further delay Jasper pulled aside the canvas screen, only to collide violently with Alwyn Burgoyne.

"Ssh!" exclaimed the latter warningly. "Get back. They're ashore."

"The pirates?" asked Mostyn.

"Yes, unfortunately," replied Burgoyne. "They brought up off the little creek and hoisted Yankee colours. Thought they'd have us cold, but it didn't come off. I waited under a bush – rather longer than I intended, perhaps; but, you see, I wanted to make sure of their little game. After a bit they got tired of seeing the Stars and Stripes at the main truck, so they hauled the bunting down. Up to that point I'd seen only three men aboard; but by this time they'd come to the conclusion that we weren't having any. So they launched a boat and rowed ashore: eight men armed with rifles, and our old friend Strogoff sporting a pair of automatics. I thought it high time to sheer off, so I crept back for about fifty yards and again watched developments."

"Eight of 'em, not a-countin' Black Strogoff, were you sayin', sir?" inquired Minalto thoughtfully. "Sure, 'tes long odds, wi' only a pistol an' a cutlass 'twixt three on us. Was there more on 'em left aboard, sir?"

"I cannot say, Jasper. More than likely there were, but I didn't see them. They'd hardly all go ashore."

"Ef us could slip along, like," resumed Jasper, "an' swim off to the schooner – When all's nice an' dark like."

"They'll probably go on board again to-night," said Burgoyne. "We'll have to think things out a bit. But when I left them they were smashing up our happy home just out of sheer mischief. When they've got tired of that they'll begin searching the island, so we had better lie low and keep quiet."

Presently the four fugitives heard the sounds of men forcing their way through the undergrowth, uttering fierce oaths in half a dozen different languages and occasionally firing their rifles. During intervals between the din, Black Strogoff's voice could be heard shouting an ultimatum to the objects of his search, to the effect that if they gave themselves up without further trouble, "including the young woman" ("so they know," thought Alwyn), their lives would be spared. Otherwise he, Strogoff, would search the island from end to end and shoot the men down without mercy.

The pirates were evidently following a trail, which turned out to be the well-trodden path leading to the summit of the look-out hill. So keen were they on the obvious track that they failed entirely to notice the tell-tale broken brushwood concealing the mouth of the cave.

After the sounds of the pursuit had died away in the distance, Jasper proposed that he should go out and see what was happening in the lagoon.

"No, you don't," said Burgoyne decidedly. "Ten to one you'll play straight into their hands, if you did. I shouldn't be at all surprised to know that they had posted snipers at various intervals to pick us off if we ventured out. Patience and discretion, Jasper. That's our motto for the present. How about grub?"

Another candle was lighted. They were of a kind known in the Royal Navy as "candles, lantern, ship's police ", and in their present condition might be reckoned upon to burn four or five hours; so with the stock at their command the fugitives were not likely to be compelled to sit in the darkness.

Slowly the long day passed. At intervals the voices of the pirates could be heard, as they returned to the boat apparently to hold a council as to the next course to pursue. Black Strogoff had abandoned his delivery of an ultimatum. He was still sanguine of success, since the discovery of the wreckage of the life-boat and the hot ashes of the camp-fire proved almost conclusively that his quarry was on the island and unable to leave it.

At last night fell upon the scene. Although it made no visible difference to the interior of the cave, the darkness was noticed by the four fugitives mainly by the change of temperature, and the fact was confirmed when Burgoyne cautiously drew the screen and looked out.

"We'll have to be jolly careful with that light now," he observed. "A glimmer escaping and shining on the brushwood would give the show away in a brace of shakes. Put the candle in the old chest, Jasper; that will screen it a bit."

After a cold supper Hilda and Mostyn dropped off into fitful slumbers. Alwyn and Jasper remained on watch, straining their ears to catch any sound that might indicate the presence and occupation of their pursuers.

Soon there were no doubts on the matter. The rogues had not gone on board the schooner but were carousing on shore. Some of them in wanton mischief and with the lust of destruction had fired the brush-wood. The roaring of the flames outvoiced that of the pirates, but fortunately the nor'east wind kept the fire from spreading towards the mouth of the cave.

"They're going it strong," remarked Burgoyne. "It must be long after midnight. They've started to quarrel now, I think."

"An' the li'l ole cask," said Minalto broodingly. "Ef I'd but taken ut away…"

The distant pandemonium waxed and waned according to the temper and excitability of the roysterers. The ribald singing was succeeded by a volley of oaths and rifle-shots and blood-curdling shrieks.

Minalto jogged his companion's elbow.

"That's fine!" he exclaimed with marked approval.

For the next hour the loud roar of the flames, as the fire overwhelmed the coco-palms, completely muffled all other sounds, but when at length, towards morning, the conflagration burnt itself out, there was a strange uncanny silence.

"Have a caulk, sir," said Jasper. "I'll be wide awake, if you'm of a mind to sleep."

"I think I will, then," replied Burgoyne gratefully, and for the next two hours he slept like a log.

The slanting rays of the sun were penetrating the brushwood when Alwyn awoke and lifted the canvas covering the entrance to the cave. The air was thick with pungent smoke.

"Wake up, Peter!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "Stand by till we return. We're going out to see what's doing."

CHAPTER XXV
The Tables Turned

Gripping the cutlass, Jasper Minalto followed the Third Officer into the open air, or rather to the edge of the belt of undergrowth that marked the fugitives' hiding-place.

This part of the island had undergone a complete transformation. Trees, scrub, and grass had vanished, leaving an expanse of blackened, still smouldering ashes. The lagoon, previously screened from the mouth of the cave, was fully exposed to an extent of almost a mile. On it, riding to a cable that hung perpendicularly from the hawse-pipe, was the schooner, with her sails lowered but loosely furled in a way that no self-respecting seaman would have been guilty of performing. There was the camp, too, with the shelter constructed from the wreckage of the life-boat lying upon the ground, and a fire still burning in the fire-place.

But what particularly attracted the attention of the two men was the sight of half a dozen or more motionless figures lying in strange attitudes upon the ground.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "Minalto, my lad, your li'l ole cask has done us a good turn. They're all dead drunk. Two, four, six, eight of them. One's not accounted for. We'll risk that one. Stop here, and don't let yourself be seen. I'll go back and bring Mostyn along."

Burgoyne returned to the cave.

"Game for a big stunt, Peter?" he inquired.

"Rather, I'm on," replied Mostyn promptly. "What's doing?"

"Bring as much rope as you can carry," said Alwyn, "and come along. We've got them cold. Yes, and bring Minalto's spear. We may have to do a bit of gentle persuasion in the clubbing line."

The three men advanced cautiously upon the silent forms of the prostrate pirates, but it was not until they were within twenty paces of their intended prey that Burgoyne checked his companions.

No words were necessary. The three men could see for themselves what had happened.

There were eight pirates all dead. One, a Malay, was lying with his head and shoulders in the still-smouldering embers. The others, all bearing wounds of bullets or knives, had fought to a finish. Jasper's li'l ole cask had vindicated its existence. Unused to spirits for months past, the pirates had hailed the discovery of the keg with wild delight. The potent stuff had made them mad drunk, and in their beastly state of intoxication they had quarrelled, using knives and rifles to back up their senseless arguments until all had fallen. Apparently the Malay had survived the others, but had rolled helplessly into the fire.

"Sarve 'em right!" exclaimed Jasper.

None of the three men felt any sense but that of gratitude for their deliverance. Humane though they undoubtedly were, they had no pity for the ruffianly crew now lying dead almost at their feet.

"Now for the schooner!" exclaimed Peter, stooping and securing a rifle and ammunition that had belonged to one of the villainous dead – an example which Jasper was not slow to follow.

"Steady!" cautioned Burgoyne. "There are eight here; where is the ninth?"

"Black Strogoff?"

"Ay; he'll want watching. He's not on board."

"How do you know that?" asked Mostyn.

"The boat isn't alongside. Come on; we'll find her along the beach."

Skirting the shore of the little creek, they gained the beach fronted by the lagoon. Rather more than a stone's throw away was the schooner's boat with her bow a good twelve feet from the water's edge. Tugging and straining at the boat was Black Strogoff, trying in vain to anticipate the rising tide by launching the small but heavily-built dinghy into the water.

Revolver in hand, Burgoyne stealthily approached the pirate lieutenant. The latter, furtively turning his head, caught sight of the three men whose capture he had so ardently desired, and now as devotedly wished to avoid.

"Hands up, Strogoff!" ordered Burgoyne.

For answer the rogue whipped out an automatic, at the same time kneeling behind the boat and resting the muzzle of the weapon on the gunwale.

Without hesitation Mostyn and Jasper both raised their rifles and took rapid aim. Both weapons barked simultaneously, even as Black Strogoff wildly loosed ten rounds from his pistol. The next instant the automatic was violently wrenched from the pirate-lieutenant's hand, leaving Strogoff not only defenceless, but with a dislocated wrist and his face cut in half a dozen places by fragments of the splayed nickel bullet.

"Surrender!" shouted the Third Officer, brandishing his revolver as he leapt towards the pirate.

Strogoff had not the faintest desire to avail himself of the offer. He knew that capture meant death at the rope's end.

"Shoot away!" he replied tauntingly.

Burgoyne did nothing of the sort. It was one thing to exchange shots in hot blood with a criminal; another to strike a human being down in cold blood.

Strogoff saw the Englishman's hesitation and took his chance. Wading waist-deep, he began swimming for the schooner, which was lying at anchor less than four hundred yards distant.

"Don't fire!" cautioned Alwyn.

"Don't mean to," rejoined Peter, snapping the safety-catch of his rifle.

"Launch the boat," continued Burgoyne. "We'll nab him long before he gains the schooner."

It was a man-hunt with a vengeance. The excitement of the chase provided far greater scope than merely shooting the swimmer through the head. To effect a capture appealed to their sporting instincts. Taking human life, or any animal life for that matter, did not, unless there were ample justification for it.

"What are you going to do with him?" asked Peter, when by the united efforts of the three men the boat was launched and the oars manned.

"Maroon him on the island," replied Burgoyne grimly. "He'll have the same chances as we did, anyway, and if he wins through – "

He stopped suddenly, let go the tiller, and sprang to his feet.

"Your rifle – quick, Peter!" he exclaimed hurriedly.

Mostyn handed over the weapon. The rowers laid on their oars and turned their heads to see what their companion was aiming at.

Black Strogoff was now only fifty yards ahead, swimming strongly in spite of his broken wrist, but close behind him was a dark, triangular-shaped object following the disturbed wake of the swimmer.

It was the dorsal fin of an enormous shark.

The pirate, unconscious of the dire peril that threatened him, swam steadily towards the schooner. Burgoyne, looking along the sights of the rifle, hesitated to fire, for the shark and the swimmer were in line with the muzzle. He might hit the shark, but the bullet would then ricochet and settle Strogoff into the bargain.

"Look out!" shouted the Third Officer. "Sharks!"

At the warning the pirate-lieutenant turned his head just in time to see the monster's dorsal fin disappear. The shark was turning on its back in order to seize its prey.

With a blood-curdling scream Black Strogoff threw up his arms and disappeared.

Thirty seconds later the boat was over the spot, where an ever-widening circle of ripples surrounded the blood-tinged patch that indicated the manner of Black Strogoff's death.

Burgoyne, pale under his tan, slipped the safety-catch of his rifle, laid the weapon in the stern-sheets, and resumed the tiller. As he did so he noticed that the boat's bottom boards and gratings were awash.

Kicking aside the stern-sheets grating, Alwyn felt for the plug. It was in position and jammed hard into the bung-hole.

"We've sprung a leak!" exclaimed Mostyn, stating an obvious fact; then, laying aside his oar, he quickly extracted a cartridge from one of the rifles, and inserted the bullet in a small hole just under the middle thwart.

Peter and Jasper exchanged meaning glances. One of the two had fired the shot that had completely penetrated both sides of the boat, although one of the holes was above water-line. Each, by that glance, tried to insinuate that the other was the culprit, at the same time proving that the shot that had disabled Black Strogoff was his.

"We'll appraise responsibility when we've finished the job," declared Burgoyne. "Now, steady all. Give way."

Keeping a keen watch on the apparently deserted schooner, the Third Officer steered the boat in her direction, holding a rifle ready to fire at the first sign of resistance.

"Easy all! Lay on your oars," ordered Burgoyne.

The boat, being bluff-bowed and laden, soon lost way, drifting idly at a distance of about twenty yards from the schooner.

Burgoyne fancied he heard a scuffling sound like metal being dragged across the deck. It might have been the grinding of the badly secured main-boom and yard as the vessel rolled sluggishly in the gentle swell.

"Take both oars, Minalto," continued Burgoyne. "Peter, old son, stand by with a rifle. Unless I'm much – "

Before he could complete the sentence the head and shoulders of a negro appeared above the low bulkhead. There was a flash, and a bullet sung past Burgoyne's right ear.

The rifles of the two Englishmen cracked in unison. Leaping a full three feet in the air, the negro fell writhing across the rail, and, slowly overbalancing, toppled into the sea.

The boarders waited, finger on trigger, for a full minute. All was quiet on board. Burgoyne judged it prudent to take possession of the craft.

"Stroke ahead, Jasper… Good enough."

Minalto fended off the dinghy as she ranged up alongside. Then, holding the slack of the painter in his left hand, he grasped the main shrouds and swung himself on to the chain-plate.

Burgoyne was about to follow Minalto's example when Jasper, relinquishing his hold and raising a shout of alarm, fell backwards. Missing the gunwale of the boat by a hair's-breadth, he fell with a terrific splash into the water. Where his hand had been grasping the bulwark not a second before, a glittering knife was quivering, its point sunk an inch deep into the teak rail.

Leaving Jasper to shift for himself, Burgoyne leapt on deck just in time to see Ah Ling disappearing into a low deck-house just for'ard of the wheel.

The door crashed to. Alwyn could hear the Chinaman hurriedly barricading it. Then a spurt of flame leapt from one of the side scuttles, and a revolver bullet chipped the mainmast.

"Keep where you are, Peter!" shouted Burgoyne. "I'll manage this part of the show. Where's Minalto?"

"In t' boat," replied that worthy.

"Hurt?"

"No, sir."

"Then stay there," said the Third Officer peremptorily.

Burgoyne had already thrown himself flat upon the deck behind the raised coaming of the main hatch. With his rifle by his side he exposed no more than a part of his head, his right shoulder and arm to the fire of the trapped Chinaman.

Ah Ling was evidently prepared to put up a stiff fight. With Oriental fatalism he seemed to realize that his chance of escape was hopeless, but at the same time he had no intention of surrendering. Nor had Burgoyne any desire to invite the Chink to give himself up, for with Ah Ling a prisoner the fugitives would be constantly in fear that the Celestial would free himself. And Alwyn had had experience of the ferocity and diabolical cunning of Chinese.

"'Tany rate," he soliloquized. "It's a fair scrap. One against one, not three."

A hand grasping an automatic appeared through one of the scuttles on the port side of the deck-house. Burgoyne promptly fired at it. The hand remained, although the marksman felt sure that at that comparatively short range it was impossible to miss.