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Burgoyne told him and introduced the purser.

"Come along to my cabin," continued Captain Davis. "Sorry I can't offer you a drink 'cept water. I'm on the sick list or you wouldn't have found me. I'm usually killing time in these black-bearded rogues' smithy."

"That's where I shall probably be soon," rejoined Burgoyne. "In an hour and three-quarters, I expect. So I'm in a bit of a hurry. I thought you could put me up to a tip as to how to billet my men."

"How many?"

Alwyn told him.

"H'm. Yours was a lump of a ship. But there's plenty of room here. We were practically the first-comers, so we had the pick, so to speak. The Alvarado's people took the next best in the matter of site. We don't mix much, 'cause they're Yankees who don't cotton on to Britishers much. So we keep ourselves to ourselves. Now, how will this little lot suit you?"

CHAPTER IX
The First Day on the Island

"No agents' fees," continued Captain Davis. "Situation pleasant, healthy locality, standing on high ground, &c., &c. Frequent trams to the City – I don't think."

Burgoyne regarded the collection of huts without enthusiasm. Some were already rotting. The galvanized iron roofs were rusting through in several places, while attempts had been made to repair the damage by means of powdered coral worked into a kind of cement. Hibiscus plants flourished between the buildings, tough-tendrilled creepers clung tenaciously to the woodwork, as if endeavouring to cloak the defects with verdure.

"We'll soon get the show shipshape," remarked the purser. "I've seen worse cribs in the slums of Southampton."

"Then the sooner the better, Mr. Holmes," added Alwyn briskly. "Coming along, Captain Davis?"

The ex-skipper of the Kittiwake shook his head.

"Sorry," he replied. "I'm deputy chief cook for our crowd. They'd raise Cain, even though I'm their Old Man, if their grub wasn't ready. See you at 'stand easy'."

"One moment, Captain," said Burgoyne. "Before you sheer off I want to thank you. Also I want to ask a question: have any of you a razor to lend?"

Captain Davis laughed heartily.

"Bless me!" he exclaimed. "I hope you don't count on keeping up appearances, young man. If you do you'll be disappointed. None of us have seen a razor, let along handled one, for close on five weeks. Don't worry, beards grow quick enough in this climate, and you won't be long in the bristling stage."

"How about hair-cutting?" asked Burgoyne hopefully, with a view to ulterior motives.

"That was a proposition that worried us," admitted the skipper. "We didn't object very much to have to grow whiskers, but we drew the line at getting a mop like a bobbed schoolgirl. Take my tip. When your hair gets too long use a chisel, or rather get a chum to use one on your thatch. You'll find plenty of cutting tools in the carpenters' shop over yonder, but for Heaven's sake don't bring one into the compound, or Black Strogoff will give you a week in the 'Glory Hole'."

Half an hour later the passengers and crew of the Donibristle were in possession of their new quarters. One of the largest huts was set aside for a hospital, and into this Captain Blair, Mostyn, and the wounded seamen were carried. The steward and a deckhand named Twill (who had served an apprenticeship with an Edinburgh chemist, but, failing to pass the pharmaceutical examination, had forsaken the pestle and mortar for a life afloat) were told off to act as hospital attendants. This reduced the number of "hands" allotted to the cook-house to two: Colonel Vivian and "Young Bill".

The colonel was appointed to the post of head cook because it was a fairly "soft" job, and did not require much manual work. "Young Bill" was chosen to be his assistant because "Young Bill" was his daughter. In her new capacity Hilda Vivian would stand less chance of detection than if she had been compelled to work with the men outside the compound. It was at Holmes's suggestion that Miss Vivian had been sent to the cook-house. She rather resented it, and would have preferred a more strenuous, out-door occupation, but Burgoyne, in his official position as senior executive officer, clenched the arrangement, at the same time thanking the purser for his well-thought-out suggestion.

Ramon Porfirio had plenty of work on hand. He knew that the armed rabble that formed the crew of the Malfilio, and the garrison of the secret base, would not follow industrial pursuits. They were "gentlemen-in-arms", whether they were white, black, brown, or yellow, and when not engaged afloat or on guard duties they took care to live a life of ease.

The menial and industrial work fell to the pirates' captives. They were made to toil; but Porfirio was intelligent enough to realize that no man can perform a good day's work if he is half-starved. There was plenty of food on the island, so the prisoners had enough to keep them in working trim.

Amongst the pirates there was one hard-and-fast regulation that occasioned considerable discontent, but Porfirio showed unrelenting sternness with regard to it. He absolutely barred the use or possession of intoxicating spirits; not because he was an adherent to the tenets of Pussyfoot, but because he knew the dire results of plying Malays and Chinese with strong drink. Although he, his lieutenants, and the South American section of his band were hard drinkers, they voluntarily agreed to desist from the use of alcohol, so that the Asiatics would have no cause for jealousy.

Within the two hours allowed by Black Strogoff the Donibristle's men, marshalled into working-gangs, went to their stated tasks. The pick of the engine-room staff, under the supervision of Angus and Withers (the latter had resumed his official status), marched off to join the other forcibly-recruited workmen in the blacksmiths' and machinists' shops. The deck-hands and the remainder of the firemen were divided into two parties. One, under Branscombe, was to proceed on board the Donibristle and unload her cargo; the other, under Burgoyne, was told off to haul the booty to the top of the cliff and carry it into the store-houses.

Although the work of despoiling his own ship was an irksome and depressing task, Burgoyne felt glad to a certain extent that it fell to his lot. It gave him an opportunity to study the lay of the land, which, had he been sent to toil in the workshops, would have been denied him.

Escorted by two Peruvian half-castes, armed with automatic pistols and long, heavy knives, the Third Officer's men were taken to the edge of the cliffs surrounding the spacious landlocked harbour. From this point of vantage Burgoyne could observe not only the greater part of the anchorage, but a considerable portion of the island as well.

At one time there had been a powerful electric crane built on the edge of the cliff, its longer arm projecting well beyond the almost vertical wall of rock. The electric plant had given out, but the crane still remained, rusty, but to a certain degree serviceable. It had to be worked and trained by manual power, the hauling-up gear consisting of a large winch bolted to the bed of the former electric capstan.

It took the party the best part of two hours to overhaul and prepare the flexible steel ropes and treble-sheaved blocks, while Burgoyne, keenly on the alert lest any of the men should incautiously run needless risks, kept all his attention upon the movements of the active fellows swarming on the latticed steelwork. But when all preparations were completed, and the hard-worked men had to await the first consignment of cargo from the Donibristle, Alwyn found an opportunity to survey his surroundings.

Except for the conical hill that he had noted on his way from the tunnel to the compound, Burgoyne found that the crane was situated on the highest part of the island, although, when not in use, it could be run back on four parallel lines until it was invisible from seaward.

He judged the island to be in the form of an irregular oblong, three miles from north to south, and two miles from east to west. On the east side lay the landlocked harbour with its outer barrier of detached granite cliffs. Judging by the colour of the water the harbour was almost uniformly deep, with the exception of a rocky patch immediately inside the entrance on the port hand, and another about a cable's length from the extreme southernmost part of the curve of the shore. A mile beyond the entrance was coral reef, but how far it extended, and in what position was the entrance to the lagoon, Burgoyne had at that time no means of ascertaining, as both on the right hand and on the left the edge of the cliff cut the skyline.

Directing his attention inland, Alwyn saw little to be of assistance to him. The barracks, workshops, stores, and a building which he concluded was a magazine all lay on a lower level than that of the top of the cliffs. He had no chance of seeing what the southern and western sides of the island were like, except that he knew they must be precipitous. Whether coral reef completely encircled the secret base remained as yet a matter for speculation.

Towards the horns of the landlocked harbour, he could make out at least half a dozen gun emplacements, constructed for weapons with disappearing mountings.

"I must make a closer acquaintance of those gentlemen," he decided. "4.7's, or 6-inchers at the very outside. Even then it must have taken the Huns a deuce of a swot to get the guns up the cliff. Hello! There's the first boatload coming ashore. I guess Branscombe's jolly sick over his job."

The Donibristle had been moved a hundred yards closer inshore, and was lying between the Kittiwake and the Alvarado. The Malfilio had left, probably in pursuit of another prey.

It somewhat puzzled Burgoyne to know why the pirates had decided to take the Donibristle's cargo ashore. Cases of hardware and machinery would be of little use to them on the island; but, disposed of in Vladivostok or Petropavlovsk, where they might be sent into Soviet Russia, their contents would be of almost priceless value. But, Alwyn remarked, life just now was full of surprises, most of them being very disagreeable ones, and for the time being it was best for him to knuckle under and look small until the opportunity arose to be up and doing.

Steam had just been raised on board the Donibristle to enable her to use her derricks, but the work of loading up the boats proceeded slowly. For one thing, the men under Branscombe's orders showed no enthusiasm for their task. Neither did Branscombe for that matter. It was quite a different proposition having to work with forced labour. The men just kept going and no more, so that they would not incur the wrath of the pirates by obviously "hanging on the slack".

It was six o'clock by the time the first boatload of cargo had been hoisted up the cliff and placed in one of the stores. The crane was run back out of sight. The various small craft used in connection with the operation were hauled up and secured by stout padlocks to a heavy chain; the oars and gear removed and placed under lock and key. This task completed, the working-parties were to a limited extent free until the following morning.

On the return journey to the compound, Burgoyne and Branscombe were able to compare notes. Neither was enthusiastic over his share in the operations, but each had made good use of his eyes with a view to subsequent events. Presently they were joined by Withers and Angus, who had finished their daily task in the shops. All were agreed that the pirates, although unspeakably lazy, were smart at their unholy trade, and left nothing undone to safeguard the secrets of the island.

"It will take some doing to get clear of this show," remarked Phil Branscombe. "You couldn't see from up there, Burgoyne, old man, but the beach is bristling with machine-guns. They've mounted a couple on the Kittiwake."

"And what do they propose doing with the old Donibristle?" asked Alwyn. "Did you find out anything?"

"A couple of greasy, gold-laced blighters came on board," replied the Fourth Officer. "Apparently they didn't think much of things, 'cause they shook their heads and jabbered rather dolefully when they examined the results of their own gun-fire."

"It seems to me that our one chance is to cut out the old ship while she has steam up," said Burgoyne. "She's sound enough below the water-line, and her engines are all right, aren't they, Angus?"

The Chief grunted in assent.

"Oh aye," he replied without enthusiasm. "But I'll tak the liberty tae inquire what ye just propose to do?"

"The Malfilio is away cruising," observed Burgoyne tentatively.

"Yes," agreed Branscombe, "but there are at least fifty armed ruffians left behind, to say nothing of the quick-firers and machine-guns. We'd be a scrap heap before we cleared the entrance. Hello! Stand by! We're nearly there."

The four officer's separated to rejoin their respective parties. Other batches of men, crews of the Kittiwake and Alvarado, were held up outside the compound gate, while the guards from the two block-houses counted them and compared the numbers with those who had passed out earlier in the day.

It was now night, but two powerful acetylene lamps aided the guards in their task. Nevertheless it was more than a quarter of an hour later before the Donibristle's men were able to be dismissed to their huts.

From each building one man was told off to fetch the evening meal from the galley. Considering the limited supplies and utensils at his command, Colonel Vivian had risen to the occasion. No doubt Hilda had been in a great measure responsible for the success of the cooking, for each man received a pint of soup, in which floated minute pieces of mutton, and a small loaf made of wheat flour and taro. This they ate in their various quarters by the dim light of a small candle in each room.

"How do you like your new job, Young Bill?" inquired Alwyn, after he had complimented her father upon the cooking arrangements.

"I rather like it," she admitted. "It's a novelty; but I don't think I'd care to be a professional cook."

"You did jolly well," said the Third Officer admiringly.

"Wait until you've eaten yours," cautioned Hilda. "Then you might have cause to regret your hasty opinion."

Burgoyne stepped back and altered the position of the candle until the light shone on the girl's face. She returned the steady gaze unmoved.

"I suppose you know," he remarked slowly, "that I am responsible, as senior executive officer, for the passengers and crew of the Donibristle? You do? That's good. Then I'm going to reprimand you. Why have you washed your face?"

Hilda looked astonished.

"Washed my face! Of course I had to wash, especially as I'm a cook. You wouldn't like your meals prepared with dirty hands."

"No, I wouldn't," admitted Alwyn. "But I might point out that it is not customary to touch food with one's face. Now look here – I'm serious. In future rub your cheeks and chin over with ashes, or you'll be spotted for an absolute cert. Right-o! I'm glad you see my point."

Burgoyne's next step was to visit the wounded men. He found Captain Blair considerably better. The steward reported that the skipper's temperature had fallen, and was now only one degree above normal, while his wounds showed no sign of complications. Mostyn was not so well. He recognized Burgoyne and greeted him with a faint smile.

"I'm just slacking," he remarked feebly, "but you won't want me for a while, I guess. An operator without his 'set' is like Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark. But we had a run for our money, hadn't we?"

With one exception the men appeared to be doing well; but, as the steward was cautious enough to remark, it was too early to tell how things would pan out.

"Considering the limited appliances at your disposal, Barnes, you've done toppingly," declared Burgoyne.

"Glad to hear it, sir," replied the steward, but he omitted to mention that a great share of the credit was due to Twill, his assistant, whose medical knowledge gained in his student days was being put to good use.

His round completed, Burgoyne returned to the quarters allotted to the ship's officers, where he found his belated meal cold but none the less acceptable.

By that time the huts were invaded by the crews of the other captured ships. Keen to know the latest possible news of the outside world, they were anxious to fraternize.

Amongst the visitors to the officers' room was Captain Davis.

"All shipshape an' Bristol fashion, I see," he remarked cheerily. "Nothing like making the best of things. I'd like to have your cook. He must be a gem. The whiff of your grub drifted over our way and nearly drove the boys frantic with envy. Well, it's close on time to douse lights, so we won't stay."

"Douse lights?" repeated Burgoyne. "Is there any rule about that?"

"There is and there isn't," replied the skipper of the Kittiwake, with a grin. "If you put 'em out at nine, well and good. If you don't, often as not old Strogoff will beat up a party to hoist up ashes or some such job. So we've learnt a trick and out go the lights. Cheerio, everybody."

Ten minutes later Alwyn Burgoyne was in a deep, dreamless slumber.

CHAPTER X
Investigations

Accustomed to comparatively short hours of sleep, as are usual afloat, Burgoyne was up and about before the sun rose. In spite of the unusual stability of his hard bed – it was the first night he had slept ashore for nearly four months – his rest was none the less good on that account; but once awake he felt compelled to dress and go out.

"What's up, old man?" inquired a drowsy voice, as Branscombe lifted a tousled head from his pillow – or rather a pile of folded clothes.

"Show a leg and shine, my festive," exclaimed the Third Officer. "Come along, let's see if we can put in a swim before breakfast."

Phil assented, dressed hurriedly, and accompanied Burgoyne into the open air. By that time the sun was just showing above the edge of the cliff. The reek of wood-fires mingled with the soft, cool air. Already in three separate canvas-screened enclosures the cooks of the respective crews were busy. Alwyn wondered whether Miss Vivian was one of the energetic ones.

"Our fair passenger has weathered another day, old thing," remarked Branscombe.

"Yes," agreed Burgoyne. "That's so. Hope we'll be able to work the stunt all right."

"It won't be for want of trying on your part," rejoined Phil. "Miss Vivian told me last night that you nearly jumped down her throat 'cause she'd washed her face."

"Was she angry about it?" demanded Alwyn.

"Not a bit, only amused."

"Amused?" retorted the Third Officer. "Just like a girl. She'd never see the serious side of things. I wouldn't mind betting that she'll disobey orders, and show a sparkling healthy complexion to every slant-eyed Chink that comes into the compound."

The two chums were passing within thirty yards of the hut with the canvas annexe that formed the "galley ". As they did so a grimy, laughing face with a mass of cropped hair appeared through a slit in the canvas, and a hand was waved in friendly greeting.

"You've lost your bet, old man," observed Phil. "Wonder if she heard what we were saying?"

"At any rate," rejoined Alwyn. "She's carried out orders. She probably realizes that this isn't a scene from The Pirates of Penzance. So far all's well, but honestly I don't like the look of things. There's something very fishy about the way that scoundrel Porfirio is treating us. This sort of conciliatory business has something behind it. I shouldn't be surprised if the blighter doesn't show himself in his true colours before very long."

The two chums walked to the extreme north-western point of the island, where further progress was barred by the sheer descent of cliff. It was hardly what Burgoyne had expected. He had hoped to find a path giving access to the shallow bay, but there was none.

Foiled of the chance of having a bathe, Burgoyne began taking stock of the surroundings. From where he stood the barrier reef enclosing the lagoon presented an unbroken wall of surf-lashed coral. There was not the suspicion of an opening. Immediately off the point the reef extended seawards for nearly a couple of miles, diverging shorewards until towards the north-eastern and south-western points of the island the lagoon narrowed to about one hundred yards. On the northern face of the island the coast was but slightly indented, the cliffs being of almost uniform height. But on the western side there was a bay of considerable width, bounded on the southern extremity by a hook-shaped spur of lofty ground, off which was an islet of about an acre in extent, and only about half the height of the nearmost cliffs of the main island. The cliffs did not drop sheer into the water, but were fronted by a broad and slightly-shelving beach of glistening white sand.

As far as Burgoyne could make out, this side of the island was undefended by guns in position. Evidently the authorities responsible for the safety of the secret base deemed the frowning cliffs to be sufficient protection. An army formed up on that beach would be useless for assault, since the smooth overhanging precipices were unscaleable.

Presently Alwyn, who had been silently contemplating the view, startled his companion by declaring:

"I'm going to explore that beach, old son!"

"Nonsense!" protested Phil. "The cliff's too smooth. There's not a single niche in it. You'd be smashed to a jelly for a dead cert."

"I'm not trying at present," said Burgoyne. "But I mean to some day. And by a rope."

"Rope! What rope?" asked his friend.

"We'll have to make up one from short ends," replied Alwyn. "It's easy to cut off short lengths and stow them under our clothes. Then at night, or at any odd time if it comes to that, we can make up a rope long enough to reach the beach, and strong enough to bear at least a couple of men. Then if we can get hold of some files – "

"You'll have a job, old son," interrupted Branscombe. "I was speaking to Withers about that very thing last night. There's a mighty sharp Chink in charge of the stores in the workshops, and he takes care to count every blessed thing in the tool line that's issued out, and when they are returned, he – Hello! What's the move now?"

Breaking off in the midst of his description of Li Whong's methods, the Fourth Officer pointed in the direction of the conical hill which had attracted the chums' attention on their first journey from the tunnel to the compound.

Owing to the contour of the ground forming the prisoners' camp, the whole of the enclosed space was under direct observation, not only from the two block-houses, but from the hill as well. A few minutes before the flat top of the hill was seemingly bare. Now a tall flag-staff had been reared within the space of thirty seconds. Even as the chums looked, they saw a red-and-black flag broken out smartly at the masthead.

"What's that for, I wonder?" remarked Phil.

"Hanged if I know," replied Alwyn. "Precious little good I should imagine, since there's no wind. See anything seaward? I do, by Jove! There's a vessel nearly hull down."

"The Malfilio most likely," hazarded Branscombe. "Why doesn't she use wireless?"

"She does; to keep in touch with that seaplane of hers," replied Burgoyne. "But I don't fancy she would communicate by radio with her island."

"Why not? There's wireless on board the Kittiwake and that other craft, and they would have had ours if they hadn't blown the cabin to smithereens."

"Yes," agreed the Third Officer. "They've got the apparatus right enough, but Porfirio, although he's a rotten pirate, is no fool. If the island made use of it its position could be fixed by directional wireless, and that's what Porfirio doesn't want for obvious reasons. I think I twig the meaning of that flag. Look over there."

He pointed towards the eastern side of the island to a position slightly northward of the entrance to the tunnel. There, as on the last occasion when the Malfilio made the harbour, three heavy columns of smoke were rising. That was the pre-arranged signal that the pirate cruiser could make her base without fear of the island having fallen into other hands during her absence.

"She's evidently been disappointed," remarked Branscombe. "There is no other craft with her."

"Unless," added Burgoyne, "she's sunk her victim, in which case she wouldn't have had time to remove the cargo. Sorry we can't wait to see her negotiate the reefs, but if we are to have any breakfast we must be getting back. Talking of grub, old thing, reminds me: I'm going to ask Colonel Vivian to hold back at least one tin of stuff a day. It'll keep, and there's no knowing if we may want it in a hurry."

As the chums strolled back to the huts they noticed that the flagstaff on the observation hill had been lowered, while a few seconds later they heard the hum of an aerial propeller.

Scanning the sky, they spotted the Malfilio's seaplane flying at an immense height. Then, shutting off the motors, it volplaned steeply and vanished from sight behind the cliffs surrounding the harbour.

"That's what we want," declared Branscombe sententiously. "Pity we weren't in the Royal Air Force. Old man, we've been neglecting an important part of our education, what?"

"Yes," agreed Alwyn. "If either of us could manage that, we might be able to collar the seaplane one dark night, and be in Honolulu before daybreak. However, I still hold out hopes that we'll be able to cut out one of the small sailing craft."

"How far are we from Honolulu?" asked his companion.

"'Bout eight hundred miles, I think," was the reply. "And there's the North Equatorial Current against us, to say nothing of the Nor'east Trades. No, Honolulu's dead off as far as sailing there is concerned. I'd make for the Marshall Islands, or even the Gilbert Islands. It's farther, but one would stand a better chance. Heigh-o! We've got to find a boat first."

Breakfast was already in progress when they arrived at the camp. Directly the meal was over the men were paraded for inspection. Black Strogoff was not present for this function. He rarely was, according to Captain Davis, since he had a strong aversion to early rising. But the under-officer, Fernando, deputized for him, reading out instructions, written in peculiar English, with an accent that rendered the words almost unintelligible.

With one exception the routine of the various parties was the same as yesterday's; but four men were told off to provide fish for the Donibristle's crew. Later on Burgoyne found out that this was to be done every third day, the intervening days being allocated to fishing-parties drawn from the Kittiwake's and Alvarado's crews respectively.

"I'm on that, if it can be worked," decided Burgoyne. "You fellows know how to carry on with the crane."

The men expressed no surprise nor resentment at the Third Officer's decision to "put in for a soft job". Knowing Burgoyne to be a smart officer who never spared himself when there was work to be done, they guessed that he had something up his sleeve.

So when the working parties marched through the gate of the compound, one of the crew who somewhat resembled Burgoyne wore the Third Officer's drill coat and cap, while the latter in his shirt sleeves fell in with three others, and was supplied with lines and bait by an unsuspecting Chinese pirate.

After the customary precautions on the part of the guards, Burgoyne's party was taken through the tunnel to the beach. Alwyn suspected that the fishing operations would be conducted from the rocks, but to his great satisfaction the Chinaman pointed to a boat, and made signs for it to be launched.

The boat was a heavy one, being about eighteen feet in length and double-ended. There were air-tanks under the side benches, while, differing from the majority of ship's lifeboats, it had a centre-plate. Although it was fitted for masts and sails, they were not in evidence.

As the Chinaman unlocked the padlock and unrove the heavy chain securing the boat – it was the endmost one of a tier – Burgoyne pointed to the mast-clamps.

"No sailee. Makee pullee long-time," said the Chinaman. "You go longee fetchee oar one chop quick."

He pointed to a long, low building abutting the cliff. Burgoyne obeyed with alacrity. He was all out to find things, and the more he learnt of the position and contents of the various buildings, the more he felt pleased with himself.

The door of the shed was open, but a brief glance told him that it was secured, when shut, by means of an exceptionally stout hasp and padlock. Within were four of the pirates playing cards, while two more were watching the game over the others' shoulders. They took but little notice of the new-comer and continued their game.

Burgoyne made good use of his eyes as soon as they grew accustomed to the comparative darkness within the building. On each side of the shed were lockers, with brackets above them clamped to the walls. On these brackets were several oars of various sizes, boat-hooks, and light spars. Overhead, resting on the beams supporting the roof-trusses, were boats' masts and sails, some of the latter loosely furled, and others in painted canvas covers. Judging by the dust, it seemed as if this lot of gear had not been disturbed for a considerable time.

By means of the oars stacked against the wall, Burgoyne hoisted himself on the rafters, and, selecting what he took to be the masts and sails belonging to the lifeboat, he lowered them to the floor. Then, heavily laden, he returned to the beech with the utmost sang-froid.

The Chinaman was talking to one of his compatriots, and failed to notice the Third Officer's approach. By the time the former had finished his conversation, Burgoyne and his three men had already stepped the masts and were preparing to hoist the sails.

"No can do," shouted the pirate. "No makee sailee. Takee um back velly quick. Fetchee oar and makee row."

Burgoyne complied. He had gained his point. He had found out at the first attempt the proper gear belonging to the boat.