Читать книгу: «The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story», страница 13

Ejecting the still-smoking cylinder, Burgoyne thrust another cartridge into the breech, keeping the cut-off of the magazine closed in order to provide against the possibility of a blind rush on the part of his yellow antagonist.

At the second shot the automatic fell to the deck and the hand was withdrawn. Yells of pain issued from the deck-house.

"That's got him!" ejaculated Burgoyne, and, springing to his feet, he rushed towards Ah Ling's retreat. It was a false, almost fatal move, for as the Third Officer emerged from behind the cover of the hatchway a tongue of flame leapt from the deck-house close to the rise of the door-step. The bullet literally sent some of the Englishman's hair flying.

Partly dazed by the nickel missile, Burgoyne retained sufficient presence of mind to drop flat upon the deck and wriggle back to his cover, but not before Ah Ling had fired two more shots that were quite ineffectual.

Burgoyne decided that he was up against a tough proposition. He had to take into consideration the fact that he was not only fighting a well-armed man but a wily one into the bargain. Ah Ling had certainly got the best of the first round, for Alwyn's rifle was lying on the deck beyond reach of his hand and in an uninterrupted line of fire from the deck-house.

"That hand was a dummy," decided Burgoyne. "The whole time the Chink was lying on the deck waiting for me. When I get hold of that rifle again, I'll let him know what's what."

He scorned the idea of calling upon his comrades to throw him another rifle, nor would he entertain the suggestion that they should join in the scrap. Somehow it didn't seem quite British. The odds were level, and that appealed to his sense of fair play.

Keeping close to the deck, Burgoyne crawled to the base of the main-mast, thanking his lucky stars that nine inches of heavy oak faced with iron comprised the construction of the main-hatch coaming. That was sufficient to stop a bullet, otherwise Ah Ling would have raked the woodwork and rendered the Englishman's position untenable.

From the spider band of the main-mast Alwyn took a coil of light rope. With this he retraced his course, and, arriving at his "sniper's post", proceeded to throw a bight of the rope over the rifle until it engaged in the upturned bolt.

"That's the ticket!" he chuckled, as he retrieved the weapon. "Now, my festive Chink, you're going to have the time of your life."

Aiming at the lower part of the door at a height of a foot or eighteen inches from the deck, Burgoyne sent bullet after bullet crashing through the woodwork; then, varying the performance, he peppered the whole exposed front of the deck-house indiscriminately until he could see daylight through it.

Not a sight nor a sound of the Celestial could be seen or heard.

"No hurry," decided Alwyn, bearing in mind his former rashness. "By Jove! This is where a stink-bomb would come in jolly handy."

"When you've done smashing up his happy home, old bird!" sung out Mostyn from the dinghy, "where do we come in?"

"You sit tight," replied Burgoyne. "The Chink very nearly pipped me. He's as artful as a waggon-load of monkeys. I'll let you know when you're wanted."

Placing his rifle by his side, Alwyn resumed his passive attitude towards the silent and invisible Celestial. There could be very little doubt, he reasoned, that Ah Ling had survived that fusillade.

For quite five minutes he remained on the alert, but a strange, uncanny silence seemed to brood over that bullet-riddled structure.

"I'll put in five more rounds," he decided. "Then I'll investigate at close quarters. The blighter must be done in absolutely by this time."

He was on the point of carrying his intention into effect when Mostyn hailed excitedly:

"He's done you, my festive! The Chink's half-way to shore."

Burgoyne sprang to his feet and looked over the side. Swimming towards the little inlet was a Chinaman, bareheaded and with his pigtail trailing in the water. Ah Ling, he knew, wore a pigtail. Very few of the Chinese pirates did, but he was evidently not a believer in the Western craze that was sweeping over the yellow republic. But it might be just possible that there had been a third man on board the schooner.

Unhesitatingly the Third Officer ran aft and peered into the riddled deck-house. It was empty as far as human beings were concerned. There were a couple of rifles and several pistols, while raised at an angle of about 45 degrees to the floor was a sheet of steel that, while not stout enough to stop a direct hit, was capable of deflecting an obliquely striking bullet.

Unseen and unheard, Ah Ling had abandoned his defences and had slipped over the taffrail. He was now within fifty yards of the shore, where, to the horror of Burgoyne and his companions, Hilda Vivian was standing gazing with perplexity at the captured schooner.

CHAPTER XXVI
The Fate of Ah Ling

"I've made a thorough mess of things this time," thought Alwyn, angry with himself that his idea of a "one man show" had run Miss Vivian into danger. "If I'd had Peter and Minalto to bear a hand, we'd have settled the Chink on the spot."

Jumping into the stern-sheets of the dinghy, Burgoyne urged his companions to "pull like blue smoke", then, shouting at the top of his voice, he warned Hilda of her peril.

Hitherto the girl's attention had been centred on the dinghy lying alongside the schooner. She had heard the fusillade, and, unable to remain any longer in suspense, she had left the cave and made her way to the shore, fortunately giving the site of the camp and its ghastly occupants a wide berth.

The fact that Peter and Jasper were in the boat reassured her to a great extent, but she could not think of a satisfactory explanation of Burgoyne's disappearance.

The Third Officer's stentorian warning called her attention to the yellow, expressionless features of the Chinaman as he swam for the beach. For a moment Hilda hesitated, half inclined to swim off to meet the rapidly approaching boat, but the danger of being intercepted by the Celestial urged her to make for the cave.

She had a little less than a hundred yards start when Ah Ling gained the shore. Brandishing a knife in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other, he ran in pursuit.

Thrice did Alwyn fire at the Chinaman before he disappeared behind the palm trees, but the jerky motion of the boat spoilt his aim. Ah Ling paid not the faintest attention to the shots. He seemed to ignore the fact that he was being pursued, and devoted all his energies to overtake the terrified girl. In short, he had a fixed idea that he would soon be killed, but before he died he would take care to slay the "white she-devil", in quest of whom his companions had met with utter disaster.

Well before the dinghy's forefoot grounded on the sandy beach, Burgoyne leapt out of the boat and ran in the direction taken by Hilda and the Chinaman, Mostyn being a good second, while the heavily built Minalto followed at his top speed, which was barely half that of his agile companions.

Alwyn had discarded his rifle on account of the weight of the weapon, trusting to his small but powerful revolver. The others carried rifles, Jasper in addition having the naked cutlass stuck in his leather belt.

The dull thud of Ah Ling's wooden shoes upon the hard ground guided them until with uncanny suddenness the sounds ceased. The hitherto clearly defined trail of moisture dropping from the Chinaman's sodden clothes also failed. Burgoyne, revolver in hand, found himself standing at the junction of two forked paths, utterly uncertain which direction to take.

He was afraid to shout to Hilda lest her reply should betray her whereabouts. Listening intently, he could hear nothing of either the pursued or the pursuer.

"Take that path, Peter!" he said hurriedly, as Mostyn overtook him. "I'll take this one. Let the brute have it on sight if you spot him."

Alwyn, following the left-hand branch of the fork, had barely covered a hundred paces when he almost stumbled over the motionless figure of Hilda Vivian lying face downwards in a patch of trodden grass. Before he could get to the girl he heard a heavy body crashing through the brushwood.

Wild with fury and desperate to wreck vengeance upon the Chinaman, Alwyn dashed in pursuit, forcing his way at breakneck speed through the dense undergrowth. With feelings of grim satisfaction he realized that he was gaining on the object of his pursuit.

Meanwhile Jasper Minalto, proceeding as fast as he could along the path, was beginning to grasp the fact that his companions were forging ahead hand over fist. More than once the cutlass nearly tripped him up, and the weight of the rifle proved a heavy encumbrance. Pausing for breath, he laid his rifle against the trunk of a tree, removed the cutlass from his belt, taking in the slack of the latter.

The temporary halt had caused the perspiration to run freely. Before he resumed his way he was obliged to wipe the moisture from his face and eyes with the broad leaf of a large plant.

Then, grasping the cutlass, he was about to start running again, when to his surprise he saw Ah Ling's head and shoulders cautiously appear from behind a clump of canes.

The Chinaman's tactics were fairly obvious. He had worked to the rear of his pursuers by a circular route, hoping to be able to take them unawares and shoot them down. His strategy was good up to a certain point. He had reckoned that the three white men would keep together, not knowing that the giant Scillonian was eighty yards or more behind the others.

Well it was that Minalto had made no sound during his brief halt; and so intent was Ah Ling upon stalking his foes that he was quite unaware that one of them was stalking him.

There were moments when the usually slow-working mind of Jasper Minalto moved rapidly, and this was one of them. In a trice the now keen cutlass, wielded by a brawny muscular arm, flashed in the sunlight. The swish of the blade through the air was followed by a dull, indescribable thud, as Ah Ling's head parted company with his shoulders.

During the Great War Jasper Minalto had seen some ghastly sights. He had served on board a Q-boat when shells from a U-boat were taking heavy toll of the devoted crew; he had seen the same Q-boat, almost a wreck, suddenly spring into activity and send the Boche to the bottom with one well-directed salvo. On another occasion the same ship had rammed a U-boat with all hands. And on board the Donibristle he had seen his unresisting comrades mown down by shells from the pirate Malfilio. But never before had he knowingly killed a man. He had assisted in the slaughter of dozens, but that was hardly the same thing as personally sending a human being – even though he were a Chinese pirate and ruffian – into the unknown The thought of it made him feel sick. Like most men of great stature, he was a child at heart, although brought up in a rough school.

Having deliberately cleaned the blade of the cutlass by thrusting it into the ground, Jasper leisurely resumed his way. He decided that, Ah Ling being of no further account, there was no need to exert himself. At the fork of the path he stopped irresolutely, until a rifle-shot fired at no great distance stirred him to action.

Hurrying along the left-hand path, he, too, almost stumbled over the unconscious form of Hilda Vivian. Her white canvas coat was stained with blood that flowed copiously from a small wound in the left shoulder.

Horror stricken, Jasper raised the girl. Then in helpless perplexity he raised his voice and shouted, calling to Burgoyne for aid.

Totally unaware of the rapid events of the last few minutes, Alwyn was closely following up his prey. Suddenly he noticed a movement in the brushwood, not five yards ahead of him. Raising his revolver, he sent a bullet straight at the writhing object. An unearthly groan followed the report of the weapon, and a heavy body collapsed on the hard ground.

"That's done for you!" ejaculated Burgoyne wrathfully.

Then, tearing aside the undergrowth, he found that the supposed Chinaman was a young boar, killed outright by the severing of the spinal cord.

Alwyn decided that his luck was right out. There was Hilda lying murdered while her ruffianly assailant Ah Ling had escaped, and was probably hiding safe from pursuit in the dense undergrowth that covered the greater part of the island.

"I'll have the brute yet," he vowed, "even if we have to burn the rest of the scrub."

He was on the point of hailing Mostyn to warn him of what had occurred, when he heard his own name shouted in a voice that he hardly recognized as Minalto's.

Retracing his course, Burgoyne found Jasper trying to restore Miss Vivian to consciousness.

"I've lost the blighter, Jasper," announced Alwyn regretfully. "He's somewhere in the scrub."

"He is, sir," agreed Minalto with firm conviction.

"I'd give my right hand," continued the Third Officer, "to see Ah Ling dead as a door-nail."

"Then put it here, sir," rejoined Jasper, extending his hand.

"What do you mean?" demanded Burgoyne.

"Same's what I was a-sayin', sir," replied the imperturbable man, for his agitation had vanished at his companion's return. "But seems best as if we wur tu tak the young leddy out o' this. She ain't much hurt as I can see. Looks more like a graze than a bullet hole or a stick wi' a knife."

"Right-o," agreed Alwyn. "What we want is fresh water to dress the wound. Yes, you're right, Jasper; it is a graze."

Burgoyne raised the unconscious girl.

"Best let me, sir," interposed Jasper. "Seein' as' 'ow we might be fallin' foul of that there Chink, an' I left me rifle up along."

Realizing the soundness of Minalto's advice but ignorant of the motives that prompted the tendering of it, Burgoyne transferred the girl's limp form to Jasper's massive arms. Then, with his revolver ready for instant use, Alwyn led the way back to the spring hard by the devastated camp.

Suddenly he stopped dead, hardly able to credit the evidence of his eyes, for lying in his path was the head of the pirate Ah Ling.

Burgoyne glanced over his shoulder and met the stolid gaze of his companion.

"You did this, then," he said.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the calm admission.

"Then why on earth didn't you tell me?"

"I never was axed; arter all, it wurn't much tu brag about, seeing as 'ow I took 'im unawares-like. An' me bein' a quiet, well-disposed man. But, there, sir; I did gi' ye my 'and when you offered yours, so you'm no call to say I didn't warn 'ee."

Although considerably nettled by the bad breakdown of his method of conducting operations, Burgoyne was quite ready to admit that the fault was his. After all, success had crowned the united efforts of the castaways. Black Strogoff, Ah Ling, and the rest of the pirates were back numbers, and the schooner was a prize to Burgoyne and his companions. As an off-set Hilda Vivian had been stricken down, but how as yet remained an unsolved problem. Had the Chinaman been her assailant she would not have got off so lightly.

For her injuries were found to be slight. Beyond the wound in her shoulder and a slight gash on her forehead there were no evidences of injury.

Deftly Burgoyne and Minalto dressed the hurts and bathed her temples and wrists in cold water. By the time Peter Mostyn returned, having scoured the greater part of the island in an unsuccessful search, Hilda was able to sit up.

She was considerably shaken, and her nerves, already subjected to a severe strain, were on edge, but she was able to give a clear account of her adventures after the three men had sallied forth from the cave to try conclusions with the crew of the schooner.

For a considerable time after their departure Hilda remained in her retreat, until, unable to resist her anxiety, she had cautiously made her way down to the shore, without seeing anything of the dead pirates lying around the ashes of the camp-fire.

When Burgoyne's shouts warned her of her peril, the girl saw Ah Ling's evil face as he swam towards the shore. Once she made up her mind she started to return to the cave, but the Chinaman had already cut off her retreat in that direction; or at all events she would not have been able to regain the shelter without betraying its whereabouts.

So she took to the woods, hoping either to elude the Chinaman or else to make a circuitous route back to the beach, where by that time Burgoyne and his companions would have landed.

Then, as luck would have it, a boar dashed out of the undergrowth, and, charging, threw her violently to the ground. She remembered nothing more until she found herself on the shore with Burgoyne and Jasper bathing her face and hands with cold water.

"There's nothing now to fear from the pirates," Alwyn reassured her. "We've captured the schooner, and as soon as we can we'll leave Swan Island astern of us. But try and get a few hours' quiet sleep. By that time we ought to be ready to go aboard."

Hilda obeyed readily enough. She was too weak to do otherwise, although she would have liked to take an active part in the preparations for continuing the interrupted voyage.

"Now, lads," said Burgoyne. "We've work to do, and the sooner the better. We'll have to make the schooner habitable. I don't know what she's like 'tween decks, but I can guess. And another thing: Miss Vivian mustn't be allowed to see our old camp. We'll square things up a bit, but that isn't everything."

"I suppose the schooner's properly moored," remarked Mostyn.

"I doubt it. Single anchor," replied Alwyn. "We'll tow her into the creek at high water; there'll be depth enough and more over the bar, and once inside she'll be safer and easier to provision."

While waiting for sufficient depth of water to float the captured schooner into the creek, Burgoyne and his companions proceeded to the spot where lay the bodies of the eight pirates. As they expected, nothing of use was left in the camp. Even the bow and stern portions had been smashed up and burnt, but the staves of Minalto's li'l ole cask were still in evidence.

Presently Peter touched Alwyn's arm.

"Come here a minute," he said, and led him to where one of the men lay with his skull battered in, and a broken rifle by his side.

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Burgoyne. "It's Miles, or what's left of him."

The treacherous Canuk bagman had met with his just deserts. It was he who had betrayed the identity of Young Bill, hoping to curry favour with the pirate leaders. Black Strogoff, in Ramon Porfirio's absence, decided to act upon the information, but he was a few hours too late. Miles's reward was not at all what he expected. He was curtly ordered to join the band of pirates told off to man the schooner that was to set sail in pursuit of the English girl and her three companions. And the traitor was to a great extent responsible for the disaster that had overtaken the pursuers, for it was he who had found the li'l ole keg, and had started the quarrel when most of the men were drunk with the well-matured rum.

CHAPTER XXVII
Farewell to Swan Island

Launching the dinghy, Burgoyne and his companions rowed off to the schooner. It was now close on high water and the wind had dropped to almost a flat calm. Laboriously they manned the winch until the cable was up and down, then for half an hour they toiled before they succeeded in breaking out the heavy anchor from the tenacious hold of the bed of the lagoon. Then followed a strenuous task under the broiling rays of the afternoon sun as they towed the vessel into the creek.

By that time Burgoyne realized that he had been over sanguine in his surmise. He had not taken into account the almost inevitable hitches in his plans, and he had forgotten the now patent fact that none of them had had a good sleep for the last thirty hours.

"She'll lie there nicely," he decided, as the anchor was let go and a stout warp taken ashore and made fast to a sturdy palm tree. "We'll spend the rest of the day making everything ship-shape, but I don't quite fancy sleeping aboard to-night."

The work of cleansing this maritime Augean stables proceeded with a will, for the schooner was indescribably filthy both on deck and below. Her paraffin motor was in a terribly neglected state, so that it was a source of wonder to Alwyn and Peter that the pirates ever succeeded in getting the engine to perform duty at all. Most of the running gear was good, having been renewed from cordage taken from the captured merchantmen; but the sails, though serviceable in light winds, did not appear to be capable of standing up to a stiff blow.

Of provisions they found a liberal quantity, although the quality left much to be desired. Aided by stores from the island, the new crew ought to be able to subsist comfortably for a month without having to reprovision the grub-lockers. Particularly acceptable were air-tight canisters of tea, coffee, and cocoa, boxes of sugar, and an unopened crate of condensed milk, as well as a variety of cooking utensils.

"Knock off time!" declared Burgoyne, to the relief of his weary and tired companions, although they had no cause for complaint that he had shirked his fair share. "We'll turn in in the cave to-night, since most of our gear's there. Bring that grub along, Jasper; I'll see to the kettle and the tea-pot; Peter, you cart along the knives, and milk, sugar, and tea. We're going to surprise Miss Vivian when she wakes up."

Soon after they landed a fire was blazing merrily. While the kettle was boiling Mostyn made some tea-cups by cutting out a section of several coco-nut shells. Although there were enamelled tea-cups in plenty on board, the three men could not bring themselves to make use of them. They were not fastidious, but they drew the line at drinking out of cups used by pirates.

Compared with the food to which they had been accustomed during their captivity at the secret base and their subsequent escape, the meal promised to be a sumptuous one.

When all was in readiness they roused Hilda from her slumbers. Beyond a slight stiffness she felt little the worse for her alarming experience. A refreshing sleep had driven away her headache, and, to quote her own words, she felt ready to go anywhere or do anything.

"Then, how about tea?" asked Burgoyne. "Real tea?"

Hilda looked a bit doubtful. She rather fancied that Burgoyne was "chipping her". Then she caught a whiff of the fragrant odour as Peter poured the boiling water on to the tea.

"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, and almost in the same breath she added anxiously: "but I hope you washed the tea-pot thoroughly?"

The meal over, another surprise was forthcoming when Minalto proudly produced a tin of tobacco and some cigarette papers, which he had found in the after-cabin of the schooner. With unexpected dexterity Jasper's huge and clumsy-looking fingers rolled half a dozen cigarettes, and soon the three men were enjoying the long-denied luxury of smoking the fragrant weed; while Hilda, not to be left out in the cold, proceeded to make appetizing coco-nut cakes of flour, sugar, and grated nuts, which she baked on a piece of sheet iron over the fire.

Early next morning all hands were up and doing. Each had his or her allotted task: the men to overhaul and clean out the schooner, while Hilda baked biscuits and boiled ham for the voyage.

By noon the schooner was presentable. The decks had been scrubbed down with sand and water, the paintwork in both cabins washed down, and everything well aired. Mostyn tackled the motor, an American kerosene engine, taking down the four cylinders, cleaning plugs and magneto, and overhauling the thoroughly dirty carburettor.

"I don't know what her consumption is," he observed to Burgoyne, "but assuming that it is three gallons an hour, we have only enough fuel for a twenty-four hours' run."

"Ought to be enough unless we strike bad luck in the way of calms," replied Alwyn. "We'll carry on under sail whenever possible, and only use the motor in cases of emergency. Think she'll fire?"

"We'll try her," said Mostyn hopefully. "We can declutch, but we can't go astern. Not that that matters very much. Flood the carburettor, old son, while I dope the cylinders. Yes, that's the petrol-tap. When she's warm we can change over to paraffin. Ready?"

A dozen swings of the starting-handle failed to produced the desired effect. The two men, perspiring profusely, looked at one another more in sorrow than in anger.

"Try advancing the ignition," suggested Alwyn.

"She may back-fire," demurred Peter, "but I'll risk it. Give her more dope. Sure the carburettor's flooding?"

Again they swotted at turning the engine over, Peter at the fly-wheel and Burgoyne at the starting-handle.

"Obstinate as a mule," declared Mostyn. "Get Jasper to bear a hand, while I ''ot up them plugs' – you remember old Paterson's recipe for a refractory motor?"

They heated the sparking-plugs, primed them with petrol, and replaced them. Minalto at the starting-handle heaved until the veins in his forehead looked to be on the point of bursting, but not the faintest sign of an explosion on the part of the motor rewarded his efforts.

"I say," remarked Alwyn; "I suppose you've switched on the ignition?"

Mostyn pointed to the switch. The knob was down right enough.

"Swing her again, Jasper," said Burgoyne coaxingly.

Placing his fingers on the magneto, Alwyn received what he described as a "beautiful shock".

"The mag's all right," he announced, rubbing his tingling elbow. "Now, once more, Jasper, while I try the plug terminals."

Not the suspicion of a spark was obtainable with any of the four plugs. Burgoyne scratched his head in his perplexity.

"Faulty insulation, I believe," he hazarded.

"Perhaps the ignition-switch has to be up, not down," he said. "Sometimes they fit the wiring so that the current is 'shorted' and not broken by the switch. Now try."

The result surpassed expectations, for the engine back-fired, throwing the starting-handle violently against the roof and barking Minalto's knuckles into the bargain. But the motor was buzzing round with the precision of a steam-engine.

"Experientia docet!" exclaimed Peter, raising his voice above the din of the whirring machinery.

"Ay, ay, sir," agreed Minalto, wiping the back of his hand with a piece of cotton waste. "Experience does it. Does she kick every time we'm starting her like? Ef so my name's Johnny Walker this trip."

At length Mostyn decided that the initial trial was satisfactory. The ignition was cut off, and the engine clanked into a state of coma.

The midday meal over, the task of conveying the treasured relics of their stay on Swan Island from the cave to the schooner was begun. The provisions were shipped and the water-tanks replenished – the latter a tedious task, since it necessitated twenty journeys between the spring and the schooner By four o'clock in the afternoon, according to the schooner's chronometer, all was in readiness to heave up anchor and get under way.

"We'll be well clear of the reefs before sundown," said Burgoyne. "If we keep her under easy canvas all night and crack on during daylight, we ought to make a fairly good passage."

Hilda was below, arranging to her requirements the after-cabin which had been allotted to her. The clanking of the winch, and the grinding of the cable as it came in link by link through the hawse-pipe, warned her that the last material bond with Swan Island was about to be broken. She hurried on deck to find the dinghy already hoisted inboard, and the cable almost hove short.

"Good enough for the present," exclaimed Burgoyne. "Start up, Peter. Well, Miss Vivian, we're saying good-bye to the island."

"I'm sorry – and glad," replied Hilda. "We – at least, I have had some good times on Swan Island. Until the pirates came I rather enjoyed it, although the thought that my father and the others were suffering hardships made me feel as if I were wasting time. Not that it could be helped."

For a few moments her gaze rested on the blackened slopes of the fire-devastated part of the island; then her eyes travelled in the direction of the still verdant part where the marauding pirates had not left their mark.

She remained silent for a little longer, feasting her eyes on the picturesque scene, then with a sigh she turned abruptly and looked resolutely seaward.

"All ready, skipper!" shouted Mostyn from below, as the deck quivered under the rapid impulses of the engine.

Going forward, Burgoyne assisted Minalto to break out and heave up the anchor. Then, leaving Jasper to secure the ponderous "mud-hook" in its proper place, Alwyn returned aft to the wheel.

"Easy ahead."

The schooner forged gently through the placid water. A few turns of the wheel steadied her on her course, and in a few minutes she was clear of the inlet and slipping quietly across the lagoon.

Keeping the schooner almost dead slow, Burgoyne nursed her through the narrow southern passage between the reef. Then, porting helm to avoid the ledges off Man-o'-War Island, he steered for the open sea.

Half an hour from the time of getting under way, the schooner was curtsying to the deep blue waters of the Pacific. Ahead as far as the eye could see – and much farther – was a vast expanse of ocean.

"Do you mind taking her for a few minutes, Miss Vivian?" asked Burgoyne, standing aside to let the girl grasp the spokes of the wheel. "Yes, south by west, please."

Then, stepping to the motor-room hatchway, he called to Mostyn.

"Finished with the engines, my festive. All hands make sail."

For the next quarter of an hour the three men were busily engaged in hoisting the head-sails, since the wind was almost right aft, and then the fore- and mainsails. In view of the approach of night, they decided to dispense with the jib-headed top-sails. Not until the canvas was well peaked up, and the falls of the halliards neatly coiled down, did the crew relax their efforts, and by that time the highest part of Swan Island had vanished in the gathering darkness.