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CHAPTER XXVIII
The "Titania"

The next three days passed without incident. The breeze held steadily, but owing to the foul state of the schooner's bottom, which was encrusted with barnacles and growing marine "whiskers" up to a yard in length, her speed was less than five knots. There were navigation instruments and nautical works on board, so that Burgoyne was able to determine the latitude with tolerable certainty. The finding of the ship's longitude was a doubtful operation, since Alwyn was in ignorance of the exactness of the chronometer, but since the course was almost due south, and the ultimate goal a wide one, Burgoyne felt no misgivings on the score of longitude.

At sundown on the third day the wind died down to a flat calm, and the schooner rolled sullenly in the long swell. So violent was the motion of the main-boom, that the crew were compelled to stow the mainsail. Even then the gaff of the fore-sail was charging about like a flail, while every movable object on deck was chattering with the erratic motion of the vessel.

In case of a sudden squall blowing up during the night the three men remained on deck. There was nothing to be done. The wheel, lashed down in a vain attempt to subdue the disconcerting jerk of the rudder chains, required no attention. The side lights were burning brightly. The air was warm, although there was a heavy dew. So the night passed slowly, the crew passing the time by yarning and considerably reducing the stock of tobacco that Black Strogoff had unwittingly left for their comfort.

Day broke. The weary crew looked in vain for the signs of an approaching breeze. Even the swell had subsided until the surface of the sea looked like a burnished mirror against the rising sun. A few dolphins playing near the ship were the only signs of life.

"A regular Paddy's hurricane," remarked Burgoyne. "Looks as if it's going to last. We may as well start up the engine, old son. The sooner we get out of this belt of calm the better."

"All right, skipper," replied Mostyn cheerfully, his tiredness temporarily forgotten at the thought of once more getting way on the vessel.

In less than ten minutes the motor was running, and the schooner bowling along at a speed of seven and a half knots by the patent log. Giving time for the engine to get sufficiently hot for the paraffin to vaporize, Peter turned off the petrol and opened the paraffin-tap. Satisfied with the running of the engine, Mostyn returned on deck.

"That's more like it," he exclaimed, as the faint draught of air set up by the motion of the craft fanned his heated face. "How long do you think it will be before we pick up a breeze?"

"Four or five hours, I expect," replied Burgoyne. "These belts of calm rarely extend more than forty miles in the tropics."

"She'll do that on her head," declared Peter. Then he listened intently. His ear, trained to catch the faint buzzing of a wireless receiver, had detected a pronounced slowing down of the hitherto regular pulsations of the engine.

Without a word he dived down the motor-room ladder. He had not been mistaken. The engine was slowing down. A rapid test located the fault. The carburettor was almost empty.

"Choked jet," he said to himself; then, as an afterthought, he "turned over" to petrol again. Almost immediately the motor picked up and the shaft resumed its normal revolutions.

"That means a choke in the feed-pipe," he decided, and, selecting a small shifting spanner, proceeded to disconnect the unions.

No paraffin flowed through the pipe. Mostyn glanced at the gauge on the tank. It registered zero. Unaccountably the tank had emptied itself of more than seventy gallons of paraffin during the night.

Further researches discovered the cause, although that could not give back the wasted fuel. The paraffin-pipe was fractured, possibly by the starting-handle when the engine back-fired, and now only about a gallon of petrol was available.

Burgoyne looked grave when Mostyn reported the latest misfortune.

"We've paraffin for the lamps," he remarked. "About ten gallons in a drum in the forepeak. Can you patch up the pipe?"

"If that were all the damage, old thing, it wouldn't much matter," declared Peter. "I can fix that up with insulating tape in a couple of minutes. It's the wasted kerosene that worries me."

"S'pose we couldn't pump it out of the bilges?" asked Burgoyne.

"We'll have to, in case it vaporizes and explodes," replied Mostyn. "Of course, it isn't nearly so dangerous as petrol, but in hot weather – "

"I mean to use it again," interrupted Alwyn.

"'Fraid not," said the temporary engineer. "It's all slushing about in the bilge-water. If the schooner had been bone dry we might have managed it. However, ten gallons is better than none. I'll fix up that pipe at once."

Mostyn effected the temporary repair, poured the remaining oil into the tank, and had turned over from petrol to paraffin in less than twenty minutes. He even added a gallon of lubricating oil to the fuel, knowing that with the engine well warmed up the motor would take almost anything in the way of liquid fuel.

Thus nursed, the engine continued running for nearly three hours and a half; then, every drop of combustible being used up, the motor stopped. The flat calm still held.

It held the rest of that day and the following night. Morning found the climatic conditions unchanged, and at noon Burgoyne ascertained that in twenty-four hours the schooner had drifted a little more than ten miles in a nor'-westerly direction, or in other words, she had been carried by the North Equatorial Current farther from her destination.

In vain the men took turns in going aloft to the cross-trees in the hope of seeing the water ruffled by a welcome breeze. As the sun rose higher and higher the heat was so intense that the deck was almost too hot to tread upon, while below the air was suffocating. Although Mostyn and Minalto had pumped the bilges dry, the whole craft reeked of paraffin, mellowed by a dozen distinct odours.

"Cheer up," exclaimed Burgoyne, trying to rouse his companions from a state of lethargy. "Things might be a jolly sight worse. Remember the men who made the British Empire what it is to-day had to endure this sort of thing every time they encountered the Doldrums."

"Yes," grumbled Peter. "They might have; but they knew what to expect – before steam was known, I mean. We are different. Spoilt by civilization, so to speak, and when we are deprived of luxuries which we call necessaries, we grouse. Our motor, for example, it's like a half-baked chestnut, neither one thing nor the other."

"It has helped us, Mr. Mostyn," observed Hilda.

"True, Miss Vivian," agreed Peter guardedly. "Helped us move with the patch of calm. What was the old seamen's dodge of raising the wind?"

"Pitching a tale of woe to charitable passers-by, I guess," replied the girl.

"No, not that way, I mean," continued the Wireless Officer. "Wasn't it whistling or scratching the mast, or some such stunt? I'm afraid I've forgotten."

"Sail-ho!" shouted Minalto from the fore cross-trees. "On our port bow, sir."

The schooner, drifting idly on the placid surface, had swung round so that her bows were pointing nor'-nor'-east. Consequently, if the vessel sighted were approaching, her course would be roughly the same as that of the schooner if the latter had had steerage-way.

"What is she?" inquired Burgoyne, preparing to swarm aloft with Black Strogoff's binoculars slung round his neck.

"Can't make out, sir," was the reply. "Steamer. I think, 'cause there's no canvas as I can see."

"Let's hope it isn't the Malfilio," thought Alwyn, as he grasped the hot, tarry shrouds, and cautiously ascended the none too sound ratlins.

Gaining the elevated perch, Burgoyne levelled the glasses in the direction of the distant vessel.

"She's not the Malfilio, thank goodness, Jasper," he remarked. "She's a steamer schooner-rigged, and with one funnel; hull painted white. We'll signal her and get her to give us a passage."

In default of a set of International Code flags, Burgoyne hoisted a dark blanket rolled into a ball, and under it two pennants hastily contrived by cutting up one of the cabin curtains. This was a substitute for the special long distance signals made by a ball and two cones point downwards, but its significance was clear to every experienced seamen. It meant: "Come nearer; I have something important to communicate".

Rather anxiously Burgoyne watched the approaching vessel. From his own point of view he would have preferred to let her pass by. He would have liked to bring the schooner into port solely on his own responsibility, even if it took a couple of months. But there were important considerations. There were his comrades in captivity; there was Hilda. It was highly important that the proper authorities should be informed of the actual fate of the three missing merchant ships in order that Ramon Porfirio and his band of pirates should be rendered incapable of doing further mischief.

In about half an hour after the hoisting of the signal, the approaching craft altered helm and steered towards Burgoyne's command.

She was a schooner-bowed vessel of about 400 tons, painted white hull with a green boot-top. Her single funnel emitted no smoke except little puffs of bluish vapour. She flew no ensign. Most of her crew were blacks, but on the bridge were two white men in white drill uniforms.

"She's motor driven," declared Peter. "That funnel is only a concession to appearance, even though it does carry out the exhaust. Wonder what she's doing here?"

"We'll soon find out," replied Burgoyne. "She is or was, at one time a private yacht. Have you collected all the gear you require, Miss Vivian? We are going to beg a passage in yonder vessel, and they may be in a hurry."

The stranger slowed down, but made no attempt to lower a boat. When within hailing distance, one of the officers on the bridge shouted through a megaphone.

"Schooner, ahoy! What do you want?"

"What ship is that?" inquired Burgoyne.

"Titania, of Southampton," was the reply. "What are you?"

"No name," replied Alwyn. "We're survivors of the S.S. Donibristle. Can you give us a passage?"

Evidently the name of the missing merchant vessel was unknown to the officers of the Titania. They conferred for a few minutes, then the one who had previously hailed raised his hand.

"Right-o!" he replied. "Stand by to take a warp. I'll run alongside you."

Under the action of the twin screws, the Titania, skilfully handled, ranged up alongside the diminutive schooner. In a very short space of time the crew of the latter with their scanty belongings stood on the Titania's deck.

They must have been a source of wonder to the neatly groomed and attired officers. They were all more or less in rags, and tanned almost to a deep red colour. Burgoyne, Mostyn, and Minalto all sported beards of different hues: red, blond, and black. Hilda, in her man's dress, bareheaded, and her growing locks nearly reaching her shoulders, was for the first time since leaving the secret base painfully conscious of her unorthodox appearance.

The Titania's skipper stepped forward to greet them, smartly saluting the girl.

"My name's Swayne," he announced. "This is my partner, Paddy O'Loghlin. Pleased to be of service to you."

"Thanks awfully," replied Burgoyne. "I've met you before. You were in the old Bolero in '18."

"I was," admitted Swayne, "but I can't recall your tally."

"Not in these whiskers," agreed Alwyn with a laugh, after he had introduced himself and his companions. "I was R.N. in those days. Our light cruiser was moored ahead of your packet in Dover Harbour."

"Good old days!" exclaimed Swayne whimsically. "Not that I've much to complain about as things go nowadays. We're bound from Nua Leha for Sydney. Will that suit?"

"Admirably," agreed Burgoyne.

"Your schooner," continued the skipper of the Titania. "Seems a pity to cast her adrift."

"Please yourself," said Alwyn. "We came by her cheaply enough, and she's served our purpose. If she's of any use to you, take her by all means."

"You've an engine on board," remarked O'Loghlin.

"But no petrol or kerosene," announced Mostyn. "Jolly good little motor, too."

"I'll accept your offer, Mr. Burgoyne," said Swayne. "We'll put a crew on board, and a hundred gallons of fuel, and let them navigate her to Nua Leha. We can pick her up later on. I've a fairly smart Kanaka navigator, and plenty of natives to spare until later on. We've been doing a bit of salvage work amongst the islands, and now we're off back to Sydney to replenish stores. Come below. Will you have anything to eat? As regards cabins we can easily fix you all up. Last trip we had thirteen all berthed aft. No, it wasn't unlucky for us. Quite the reverse. 'Spose you heard about the treasure recovered from the Fusi Yama? Kit? H'm, we can rig you out all right, but the lady – yes, Miss Vivian, we've a sewing-machine on board. A couple if you like."

While the crew of the Titania, under the supervision of O'Loghlin, were preparing the schooner for her independent cruise, Swayne busied himself to attend to the wants of his self-invited guests.

Pending the making up of suitable attire, Hilda was provided with new clothes of masculine cut. Burgoyne and Mostyn, after the luxury of a hair trim and shave, were completely "kitted out" from Swayne's and O'Loghlin's ample wardrobes, while Fontayne, the third Englishman of the Titania's complement, took Minalto in hand if for no other reason than that Fontayne hailed from the county nearest the Scillies.

"They've fuelled and provisioned the schooner," announced Swayne when Hilda, Burgoyne, and Mostyn returned to the saloon. "You may as well see the last of her. By that time grub will be ready."

They went on deck. The schooner's motor was running free, emitting dense columns of bluish smoke from her exhaust. Half a dozen Kanakas, under the charge of a big, full-faced Fijian, were in possession.

"All ready?" shouted O'Loghlin. "Let go."

The schooner forged ahead, ported helm, and swung round in her course towards the distant island of Nua Leha. Five minutes later the Titania's engines began to purr rhythmically, and at a steady twelve knots she headed south. Soon the schooner was a mere dot on the horizon, and then only did her late crew go below.

The meal was a sumptuous one as far as the guests were concerned. In honour of their fair passenger Swayne and his companions spared no effort to do the thing in style. Rose-tinted shades newly placed over the electric lamps threw a warm glow on the clean linen table-cloth. (The table-cloth was the only one on board, and usually the three men sat down to a coverless board, but that fact was sedulously kept dark.) The cutlery had been brightly polished; china took the place of the customary enamelled ware. Mahommed Bux, the Indian steward whom Swayne had engaged at Sydney, had risen splendidly to the occasion, and a dinner served in a style that would have done credit to many a noted French chef was duly appreciated.

They celebrated the occasion – the men being ex-officers of His Majesty's Service – by loyally drinking the King's health, then over the wine the story of the captured Donibristle, the secret base, and the adventures on Swan Island were related to the attentive and astonished hosts. Burgoyne kept back nothing in the recital.

"All I ask," he concluded, "is to keep the matter dark when we arrive at Sydney. The safety of our comrades in captivity depends largely upon a swift and successful coup, and I haven't the faintest doubt but that the Australian Navy will see to that, and do the job as effectually as the Sydney tackled the Emden at Cocos Keeling."

"You'll be there to see it done, you lucky dog," remarked Swayne.

"I don't know. I hope so," replied Burgoyne.

CHAPTER XXIX
The Admiral's Promise

"By the by," remarked Alwyn to the skipper of the Titania just before the former turned in, "do you happen to have a White Ensign on board?"

"By Jove, no," replied Swayne, somewhat astonished at the unusual request. "I'm not one to risk chucking away five hundred of the best for unlawfully flying colours to which I am not entitled, my pippin."

"I don't suppose you would be fined – in the circumstances to which I'm going to refer," said Burgoyne earnestly. "It's quite possible that we may fall in with the Malfilio. She's away cruising, and she may be well south of the Line. The Pacific's wide, I know, and the probability of running up against her is small; but strange things happen at sea. She's got the speed of you by at least six knots."

"Well?"

"Then you'll have to bluff her," continued Burgoyne. "She'll fight shy of a White Ensign, even if flown from a mud-hopper, although she hasn't hesitated to use it herself… If you had wireless – "

"We haven't," said Swayne. "Didn't have any use for it."

"Perhaps it's as well," agreed Alwyn. "But let me advise you to get a White Ensign made up in case of emergency."

"Right-o, I will," replied Swayne. "We've a spare Red Ensign. It won't be much of a job to work in white bunting where necessary. I'll put a couple of hands on that at once. I don't fancy Miss Vivian borrowed both sewing-machines; but I do know she took one into the cabin and yards of white duck and drill."

At one bell in the forenoon watch a vessel was sighted broad on the starboard beam, and shaping a converging course towards the Titania.

"What do you make of her, George?" inquired Swayne.

Burgoyne had already brought his binoculars – formerly the property of the late Black Strogoff and possibly that of an honest man before the pirate lieutenant acquired them – to bear upon the stranger.

"Make of her?" he repeated softly. "There's not much doubt about it. That vessel is the Malfilio."

"But the third funnel?" demurred Mostyn.

"A fake," replied Burgoyne promptly. "I'd keep your dusky crew out of sight, Swayne, if I were you; and the sooner we run up the White Ensign the better."

Swayne was no coward – far from it – but he felt decidedly uncomfortable. It is one thing to face a Hun when your vessel is armed; another to attempt to bluff a pirate when your armament consists merely of one or two shot-guns, a couple of rifles, and a few automatics, and the pirate was able to back up his argument with six-inch quick-firers. To make matters worse the Titania carried 20,000 pounds worth of silver in her hold, the result of ten months' hard and dangerous toil under the sea, and it would be very hard lines if the fruit of her labours was simply snapped up by Ramon Porfirio and his gang of freebooters.

Remembering Burgoyne's warning of the great disparity in speed between the two vessels, Swayne resisted the impulse to put the helm hard over and show his heels to the cruiser.

"Right-o," he assented. "Up with the Ensign."

The impromptu emblem of the Royal Navy fluttered out bravely. Anxiously the crew of the Titania awaited developments. For some minutes the Malfilio held on. She was flying no flag. Possibly it had been her intention of hoisting the White Ensign, too; but the appearance of a similar flag on the little white craft rather upset Porfirio's calculations.

"By Jove! if we only had wireless," sighed Mostyn. "Wouldn't we have a game with him, calling up imaginary battle-cruisers and all that sort of thing."

A minute or so later the Malfilio hoisted the Rising Sun – the ensign of Japan, and still closing made the International Signal, "What ship is that?"

"Port helm a point, please," said Burgoyne; "we'll get within semaphore distance and then we'll puzzle him a bit."

The Titania rapidly closed her distance, for the Malfilio had slowed down and was doing about eight or nine knots. This manoeuvre undoubtedly perplexed Ramon Porfirio. Although he could have blown the former craft clean out of water, he had a wholesome respect for men-of-war of any description.

Burgoyne balanced himself on the weather stanchion-rails. There was no chance of the pirates recognizing the clean-shaven man as being one of the officers of the Donibristle.

Waving the two hand-flags Alwyn spelt out the following message: "H.M.A.S. Titania. We are escorting submarine flotilla carrying out quarterly torpedo exercise. Please keep clear. Other vessels of the squadron are also exercising in vicinity. Caution necessary especially at night."

Ramon Porfirio swallowed the fable. The word "submarine" scared him stiff, and he had not the faintest desire to run up against any of the powerful cruisers of the Royal Australian Navy.

Thrice the Japanese Ensign was dipped on board the Malfilio, a compliment that Swayne reluctantly returned. Then turning eight points to starboard the pirate cruiser made off at full speed.

"Burgoyne, dear old thing!" exclaimed Swayne exuberantly, "you've more than earned your passage. But for you we should have been properly in the consommé. Well, I hope I've seen the last of that blighter."

"I won't reciprocate your wish," rejoined Alwyn. "In fact I rather want to meet her again on a strictly business footing. I think we can now tell Miss Vivian that she is at liberty to come on deck."

Hilda was delighted to learn that another serious danger had been averted.

"How did you manage it?" she asked.

"Better inquire of this merchant, Miss Vivian," replied Swayne indicating Burgoyne, who turned a dusky red and shuffled his feet.

"The Malfilio sheered off. That's the long and short of it, Miss Vivian," he replied gruffly, in a vain attempt to deprecate his share of the affair.

The rest of the run down to Sydney passed almost without incident. Fine weather favoured the Titania until she made her landfall at Moreton Island, off the extreme south-east corner of Queensland. From there right down to Sydney she bore the brunt of a stiff easterly gale, and all hands were glad when the little craft passed between The Heads into the land-locked Port Jackson.

"Now we are in civilization once more, Miss Vivian," remarked Burgoyne, as the Titania approached the wharf where she was to be berthed. "You have no friends in Sydney, I suppose?"

Hilda shook her head.

"Then," continued Alwyn briskly, "you are still under my charge. I must be responsible for you until I hand you over to your father. As a matter of fact I've an uncle and aunt living at Balmain, just over there, and they'll make you welcome."

The girl had resumed feminine attire for the first time on board when the Titania "made her number" to the Outer North Head Lighthouse. For several days she had been most industrious, spending hours in her cabin with a sewing-machine for company. The result of her labours was a neat, well-fitting coat and skirt of plain workmanship and a shady hat to match.

"You seem to take your guardianship for granted, Mr. Burgoyne," she remarked with mock severity, although in her heart she admired the masterful way in which he had gone about things.

"Precisely," he rejoined. "Having had the responsibility of looking after you for so long, I am not going to throw up my trusteeship at this juncture, Miss Vivian. I mean to see this business through, and until I can report to Captain Blair and Colonel Vivian that I have done my duty you must consider yourself as – as – what shall I say? – a piece of merchandise of great value. You understand?"

"Yes," replied the girl. "We'll leave it at that, Mr. Burgoyne."

As soon as the Titania was moored. Burgoyne and Mostyn took Hilda ashore after she had said farewell to the good-natured Swayne, Fontayne, and O'Loghlin. Mr. and Mrs. Dalrymple Burgoyne readily consented to have Miss Vivian with them until the Colonel came to claim her, and this arrangement being satisfactorily transacted, Alwyn and Peter bade Hilda good-bye promising, if possible, to be back within a month or six weeks.

"Now, old son," remarked Burgoyne, as the two officers made their way back to the Titania, "we've business to attend to. You and I must try and wangle a place in the operations against our friend Porfirio. It'll take some doing. Pukka naval officers don't take kindly to outsiders when there's a job on. They'll probably try and get us to give all the information we can, and then tell us to stop still and be good boys while they go out and mop up the pirates. I rather fancy Swayne and the others want a look-in, too."

That was precisely what the part-owners of the Titania wanted, although they were not sanguine about it. Finally it was decided that the five should go in a body to the Senior Naval Officer, report the fact that the Donibristle, Kittiwake, and Alvarado were not lost at sea but were captured by pirates, and request that the five ex-officers be employed during the operations necessary for the destruction of the pirates.

That same afternoon they secured an interview with the Senior Naval Officer. The Admiral heard Burgoyne's startling statement without a sign that betrayed his surprise. In his mind he was sceptical. He had a suspicion that his visitors were skylarking young Australians "trying to pull his leg". Neither Alwyn nor Peter could produce documentary evidence proving what they claimed to be – officers of the Mercantile Marine belonging to the lost S.S. Donibristle.

Spreading out a chart of the North Pacific the Admiral questioned Burgoyne at some length. Alwyn's answers, prompt and to the point, carried conviction, and the naval officer had to admit that the existence and deeds of Ramon Porfirio formed one of the most surprising pieces of information that he had heard in the whole course of his career.

When Burgoyne came to that part of the story in which a vessel arrived off the island and displayed her searchlights the Admiral inquired:

"How long ago was that?"

Alwyn told him. The Admiral rang a bell and one of the officers on his staff appeared.

"Bring me the docket containing the report of Captain Consett, of the U.S.S. Yosemite, please," he said.

In a few minutes the document was forthcoming. The time given by Burgoyne and the Captain of the American cruiser exactly tallied, while there was a further similarity between the description of the island as recorded by the written reports and by Burgoyne, except that the former had not discovered the existence of life on the island.

"There's one thing," remarked the Admiral, "we have the exact position of this island. You say it is fortified? Can you let me have a rough plan of the anchorage, the approaches, and the batteries?"

Burgoyne complied. The Admiral looked at the drawing carefully and critically.

"You're a bit of a cartographer, I see," he remarked. "Where did you learn that?"

"At Osborne and Dartmouth, sir," replied Alwyn. "I was one of the 'redundant' officers, withdrawing with a gratuity in 1920. Since then I have been in the Mercantile Marine."

Three hours passed before the deputation withdrew. Its members were in high feather. The Admiral had given his word that the five should be temporarily engaged for special duties with the Australian squadron ordered to the North Pacific.

At 8 p.m. orders were issued for two light cruisers, a seaplane carrier, and three destroyers to proceed under sealed orders at noon on the following day.