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He replaced it carefully, but rammed the truck of the mast with considerable force against the end of the building.

"That'll help loosen the boarding," he soliloquized. "Now for the oars."

The pirates were still deep in their game. Deftly Alwyn placed a pair of stout ash oars by the side of the lifeboat's masts and sails, so that they would be invisible from the floor; then selecting another couple and four pairs of rowlocks he returned to the boat.

It took the united efforts of four men to run her down the beach into the water, but, Burgoyne reflected, two might perform the operation if there were rollers to assist in the launching. Then, again, there was the weight of the Chinaman, who had already clambered in and was sitting aft and holding the tiller.

Thigh-deep in water, the Donibristle's men waded before they scrambled on board. The oars were shipped, and with long easy strokes the boat headed towards the entrance of the harbour.

Passing within a couple of boats' lengths of their former ship, the men gave curious glances at the old Donibristle, on board of which Branscombe's party were unloading No. 1 hold. Standing at the head of the accommodation ladder was Black Strogoff.

"No tricks, you fellows!" he shouted. "You'll be under observation all the time." Then he added something in Chinese, and the Oriental seated aft solemnly held up an automatic pistol before returning it to the folds of his loose, blue linen jacket.

The warning was unnecessary. Burgoyne had not the slightest intention of giving his captors the slip. When he did he would take good care that his revolver, which was now hidden under the floor of his hut, would once again be nestling against his ankle.

Again luck was in his favour. The pirate in charge of the boat signed for the men to continue rowing, and steered towards the entrance. They were going to fish in the lagoon it appeared.

Although working an oar, Burgoyne frequently looked ahead over his shoulder. He noted the mass of towering rock that formed the screen to the entrance when viewed from seaward. He wondered which of the two channels was the main approach; the northern one was the broader, but the boat was taking the southern approach, which was barely fifty yards wide between the southern arm of the harbour and the inner side of the barrier island.

A quarter of a mile's steady pull brought the boat clear of the mass of rock on their port hand, and afforded an uninterrupted view seaward. Half a mile away was the coral reef, pierced by a deep channel through which at that moment the Malfilio was returning. She was moving slowly, but before the lifeboat had rounded the south-eastern point of the island the pirate cruiser had turned into the northern approach channel. So far so good; Burgoyne had learnt the secrets of the big-ship channel leading to the pirates' lair.

It was hot work rowing under the blazing sun, but Burgoyne was not in the least keen to stop. It was an unknown water. He was now for the first time making the acquaintance of the southern side of the island, and if the boat carried on long enough they would soon open up the western side, which Alwyn had already studied from the cliffs of the compound.

The Chinaman gave no sign to anchor. Lightly grasping the tiller, he was puffing contentedly at a pipe with a bowl about the size of a small thimble, the contents of which he replenished every five minutes or so. Alwyn found himself speculating upon what was in the mind of this inscrutable-faced Oriental. Was he gloating over the fact that he was now a taskmaster set in authority over the "foreign devils"? What a tale would Ah Ling, late sampan-man on the crowded Yang-ste-Kiang, tell should he ever return to the Flowery Land.

Presently the lifeboat entered the narrowest part of the lagoon, close to the south-western side of the island. Here the sheltered water was barely thirty yards in width. The spray from the surf-thrashed reef descended in cooling showers upon the perspiring rowers. The grating of the rowlocks and the creaking of the ash oars were drowned by the thunder of the breakers, yet in that narrow belt the boat was in perfect safety.

Half a mile farther on the reef receded from the land and disclosed a narrow passage to the open sea. Here the island terminated in a hooked promontory that Burgoyne had previously seen from the compound. Passing between the steep headland and the rounded islet that lay off it, the lifeboat entered the broad but sheltered bay that comprised the major portion of the western side of the secret base.

Ah Ling signed to the rowers to lay on their oars. The boat glided another fifty yards before the Chinaman gave the word to drop anchor.

"Now you makee catchee fishee," he said. "No catchee, no dinner: can do?"

The four white men began baiting the hooks. Burgoyne, in the midst of the operation, took the opportunity to secrete one pair of rowlocks in a little locker in the bows. Then, having cast his line overboard, he prepared to make good use of his eyes.

Interruptions in the form of bites were numerous. Weird-looking fish, most of which he failed to recognize, took the bait with avidity, and all four men were constantly hauling in the spoil and depositing it in a slimy, writhing mass on the bottom boards.

From the spot where the boat lay at anchor, the cliffs were so high that the observation hill was hidden by the beetling crags. There was a sandy beach that terminated abruptly at about a hundred yards from each of the limits of the bay. Towards the northernmost part the cliffs, although smooth and projecting towards the top, were considerably rugged at the base, a fact that Burgoyne had been unable to notice from his point of vantage on the brink of the precipice. There were one or two caves, but of what extent, and whether their floors were above high-water mark, he had no means of ascertaining. Almost immediately above the nearmost cave was the end of the iron fence enclosing the compound. It projected at least six feet beyond the edge of the cliff, and, fanwise, the same distance below it.

"That'll be a bit of a nut to crack, sir," observed one of the men, reading the Third Officer's thought.

The speaker was Jasper Minalto, one of the Donibristle's quartermasters, a native of St. Mary's in the Scilly Islands. Tall and broad-shouldered, and with the raven locks and flashing eyes that characterize so many of the Cornish folk, his strength and agility were remarkable. In the dog-watches, during the Donibristle's uninterrupted runs across the Pacific, Minalto would amuse and astonish his messmates by his feats of strength. He could break a "nickel" between the tips of the thumb and forefinger of either hand; snap a piece of whipcord on the muscles of his arms or legs; but his show piece was to bend the galley poker by striking it against his bare forearm. Yet, in spite of his ponderous bulk and brute strength, he was an easy-tempered, good-natured man whose almost unlimited energy was concealed under an exterior of careless repose. He would seem to tackle a job with lazy indifference, but in nine cases out of ten he would finish it thoroughly long before others engaged upon a similar task.

"Do you think that fence would baulk you, Minalto?" asked Alwyn.

The quartermaster deliberately hauled a struggling fish into the boat as he replied:

"Say the word, sir, and I'll du it. Afore I wur nine I'd scale the fence at Star Castle, down at home, an' it wur no better nor worse than yon, I'll allow."

Minalto spoke without any indication of bragging, and Burgoyne, knowing his reputation, realized that this was the man he wanted. When the opportunity occurred, the Scilly Islander would be the man chosen to accompany him upon the daring expedition that was already being developed in Burgoyne's mind.

At about eleven in the forenoon Ah Ling, remarking "Muchee finee; upee anchor ", announced that it was time for the fishing operations to end.

With seventy pounds of fish to their credit, the men rowed back to the harbour. Burgoyne's "catch" was the smallest, but he had obtained some very useful information which he hoped to employ to good purpose at the first favourable opportunity.

Nevertheless it came as a bit of a shock when, on emerging out of the tunnel, he was stopped by Black Strogoff.

"I gave orders for your men to go to fish," exclaimed the pirate angrily. "Your place is with the men up there."

He pointed to the cliff on which some of the Donibristle's crew were still laboriously hauling cargo from the beach.

"Another time," continued Strogoff – "another time you go to fish instead of work the crane, I'll have you beaten till you cannot stand. You got that? Good, an' don't you forget it."

CHAPTER XI
A Fight to a Finish

Alwyn thought he had got off lightly, but he was mistaken, for without warning Black Strogoff struck him violently in the face with his clenched fist. Luckily the British officer saw the blow coming and moved his head smartly aside. Thus the blow, which was intended for his nose, glanced from his cheek.

Strogoff had hoped to rouse Burgoyne into a state of fury, and thus find an excuse for using his automatic. He would not have dared to strike the unarmed Englishman but for the fact that there were twenty or more pirates with him.

With a tremendous effort Burgoyne kept himself under control. He had not only himself to consider but his three comrades. In fact, Jasper Minalto was on the point of taking up the cudgels on his officer's behalf, when Alwyn stopped him.

"Afraid, eh?" remarked Strogoff scornfully.

"Not in the least," replied Burgoyne in even tones that surprised himself. "If you would like a set-to, a fight with fists, I'll be happy to oblige you, or anyone else you care to mention."

"Fists, eh? Barbarian sport," sneered Black Strogoff. Then, swayed by a sudden inspiration, he shouted to one of the onlookers, a huge, hulking Peruvian.

"Ver' well," he continued. "We will have sport."

"And what happens when I knock out the man?" inquired Burgoyne.

Black Strogoff roared with laughter.

"There is no need to ask that," he replied. "He will not be the one who will be conquered. Are you ready to try?"

"I'd prefer to deal with you," declared Burgoyne pointedly.

The pirate lieutenant ignored the suggestion, and, beckoning to the Peruvian to approach, he gave directions to which the latter replied by grinning broadly.

Meanwhile Ramon Porfirio and his henchman Henriques had appeared upon the scene. To them Black Strogoff explained the situation. It rather appealed to them to see a lightly-built Englishman pitted against a seventeen-stone pirate. They, too, had no doubt as to the result, and the contest would amuse the crowd of ruffians. Some of the latter had evidently had some experience of boxing contests in American and British ports, for with the utmost celerity – a marked contrast to their languid movements in their leisure time – they drove in four stout posts and stretched the ropes enclosing the ring.

A more inappropriate spot could hardly be found. The ring was staked out on slightly shelving ground in the full glare of the mid-day sun. Crowding up to the posts was a steadily increasing swarm of pirates, those living on the island being augmented by the majority of the crew of the Malfilio. Three hundred yards away the prisoners working the crane ceased operations to watch the spectacle of one of their officers pitted against the huge Peruvian.

Burgoyne was still in his shirt sleeves. He did not attempt to emulate the example of his opponent, who had stripped to the waist, revealing a powerfully-built frame, huge muscles, and a decided excess of fatness. The rest of his garb consisted of a pair of blue canvas trousers, with an orange scarf round the waist, and a pair of leather sea-boots.

"I wish I were in your place, sir," whispered Minalto, who had been chosen to act as Alwyn's second. "I'd just love tu dust that chap. He's heavy on his pins tu be sure. Keep him on the move, sir, until he tires like, an' then go for his heart."

Burgoyne nodded. He was of the same opinion himself as to the tactical programme. He realized that once the Peruvian got in a direct blow he would be whirled over the ropes like a feather.

"Two minute rounds, I suppose," inquired Alwyn.

"Certainly not," replied Black Strogoff. "A fight to a finish. Why end the fight in two minutes?"

Burgoyne explained the nature of the word "rounds", which was a stranger to the pirate lieutenant's otherwise expansive knowledge of English. But Strogoff was obdurate. To his mind the act of stopping two combatants in the heat of the fight was simply absurd.

Briskly vaulting over the ropes, Alwyn watched his opponent climb into the ring. There was no signal to commence. Like a charging bull the Peruvian rushed straight at the clean-limbed Englishman.

With a lithe, natural movement Burgoyne cleared his corner, ducked under the flail-like arm of his opponent, and, seizing the opportunity, he did what he had not intended to do at that stage of the proceedings. Before the Peruvian could turn, Burgoyne's right fist shot out and dealt the pirate a stinging blow on the left side.

It might have punished an ordinary man, but in this case it merely warned the pirate to be cautious in his movements. The blundering rush was succeeded by a slower yet ponderous attack, before which Burgoyne retreated, taking care to keep well away from the ropes. Once during the next minute did Alwyn essay to strike under the arms of his antagonist.

He certainly got home, but in return received a mighty swing of the Peruvian's left that, glancing from his shoulder, gave Burgoyne such a clout on the head that for a few seconds everything seemed to be whirling round and round. Yet he had the sense to evade the following rush, until through sheer breathlessness the pirate brought up in the centre of the ring.

The brief respite cleared the mist from Burgoyne's eyes. In wind he was comparatively fresh. If he could only succeed in playing with the huge pirate for another minute, and avoid another heavy blow, he might be able to take the offensive.

The latter, goaded by the action and encouraged by the shouts of his comrades, lurched across the ring, delivering blow after blow, all of which Alwyn avoided with comparative ease. And thus, with no hit recorded, the third minute passed.

By this time the temper of the onlookers changed. They were there to see a close fight with plenty of blood flowing. The spectacle of a big man blindly chasing a smaller and agile one round and round the ring did not appeal to them. They yelled to the Peruvian to get to business and pulverize the Englishman.

With a loud yell the South American made another frantic rush. Even as he waited Burgoyne could not help feeling amused. The shout was so typical of the half-breeds, and so utterly foreign to the British boxing-ring. If it were meant to strike terror into Burgoyne's heart the Peruvian never made a greater mistake.

Anticipating a repetition of his opponent's former tactics the half-caste guarded his left side. Quick as lightning Burgoyne slipped under his extended right arm; but even as he did so the Peruvian hacked with his leather-booted leg.

Unable to check his rush Alwyn measured his length and more upon the turf. Before he could regain his feet the half-caste was upon him, dealing windmill-like blows upon his head and shoulders, while the crowd of pirates yelled with enthusiasm. The protesting voices of Jasper Minalto and his companions were drowned in the torrent of applause. Not content with using his fists, the Peruvian was again bringing his heavy boots into play.

Regardless of the consequences, Minalto was in the act of leaping over the rope when he stopped in sheer wonderment, for the white and almost motionless, prostrate figure had sprung into activity.

It was the Peruvian's cowardly performance with his boots that gave Burgoyne his chance. In his blind fury the half-caste slipped. Before he could recover his balance Alwyn was up and striking hard. The Peruvian's enormous hand was gripping his neck, but Burgoyne was jabbing lightning-like punches right over the fellow's heart. Like the rattle of a pneumatic hammer the Englishman's right fist pummelled his opponent's ribs, until the half-caste's clutch relaxed. Breaking away, Burgoyne summoned his remaining energies and delivered a terrific straight left full on the point of the pirate's jaw. The force of the blow lifted the huge bulk completely off the ground. Staggering and already unconscious, he toppled backward over the ropes into the midst of the crowd of spectators.

Jasper Minalto was just in time to catch Alwyn in his arms. Without any attempt being made to stop him the Scilly Islander carried off the insensible victor to the compound, and placed him in his hut.

Three hours later Burgoyne recovered consciousness. His head and face had come off comparatively lightly, but his ribs were black and blue, his left shoulder was laid open almost to the bone, while his shins were raw through violent contact with the Peruvian's boots.

Burgoyne was alone. The working day had not yet ended. Someone had patched him up. Cautious investigation on his part resulted in the knowledge that none of his limbs was broken, because they were not in splints, but he ached in every limb, and his tongue, hot and parched, seemed too big for his mouth.

"I'm a downright ass," he soliloquized. "Instead of pretending to knuckle under and take advantage of what I've seen, I've got myself laid out. Cui bono? Dashed if I know!"

But the fight, purposeless as it appeared to Burgoyne, had its good results. The Peruvian had not only been knocked out, but his eyesight was permanently impaired. That in itself was nothing to gloat over. When, later on, Alwyn did learn of the extent of the damage he had inflicted he felt sorry for the man. It was not his quarrel. He had been practically ordered to fight on Black Strogoff's behalf, and although he was a bad sportsman, judged by British ideas, he had been well punished by being knocked out.

But the matter did not end there. The luckless Peruvian had been by far and away the best gun-layer of the Malfilio's complement. He was now useless and could not be replaced by an equally competent man, and consequently Ramon Porfirio was in a towering rage with Black Strogoff for having been the means of depriving him of a most useful man. Henriques sided with his chief. For some time past no love had been lost between the two pirate lieutenants, and now the rift threatened to develop into an impassable abyss.

CHAPTER XII
Plans

Burgoyne's solitary meditations were interrupted by the appearance of the purser and Barnes the steward, the latter carrying a tin pannikin of lime juice.

"That's better, Mr. Burgoyne," exclaimed Holmes, seeing that the patient had recovered consciousness. "My word, that was some fight by all accounts. You didn't half sock the blighter."

Alwyn drank deeply before replying:

"S'pose it was," he admitted. "Goodness only knows why I did take the fellow on, though. How long shall I have to stop here, do you think?"

"Matter of a couple of days," replied the purser. "Pity you didn't settle that chap Strogoff. He didn't attend afternoon parade, thank goodness, but he was fooling around all the blessed morning, finding fault with things."

Burgoyne raised himself on one elbow. The movement sent a thrill of pain all over his body.

"He didn't see Miss Vivian, I hope?" he asked anxiously.

"Young Bill? No. Young Bill was kept in the background, so to speak. Hello! Here come the others. Hadn't any idea it was knocking-off time."

Branscombe grinned sympathetically when he saw his chum.

"You low-down bruiser!" he exclaimed. "Did they teach you that in the navy?"

"Partly," admitted Alwyn. "I'm afraid I departed somewhat from the recognized canons of the ring towards the end. Had to, or I mightn't have been here now. Well, any news?"

Phil divested himself of his soiled patrol coat, and revealed the fact that he had encompassed his waist with an uncut length of about ten fathoms of inch-and-a-half manila rope.

"A slight contribution to the general fund, eh, what, Withers?"

The Second Engineer produced his share of the day's plunder; one hack-saw blade and four pieces of files each about three inches in length.

"I had Satan's own job to get them," he explained. "The hack-saw blade I managed by a sort of three-card trick, and old Li Whong never twigged it. I spend most of the time in the workshop breaking off the tips of eighteen-inch files and rounding off the jagged edges. Li issued twenty-four out to the men, and twenty-four were returned; but he didn't notice that, instead of eight eighteen-inch and ten fourteen-inch, he received four eighteens and fourteen fourteens. How's that, umpire?"

"Excellent," conceded Burgoyne.

"'Spose you haven't formed a satisfactory programme?" inquired Branscombe. "Hardly to be expected from a battered old prize-fighter like you."

"I have," replied Alwyn, "subject to alterations. In the first place, any idea of surprising the guard must be scrapped. Although there are more prisoners than guards when the Malfilio is away, there's too much alertness on the part of the pirates to warrant success. We'd be bowled over like rabbits, especially if they caught us out in the open with those machine-guns. What I propose doing is to select a small crew – unfortunately I can't take it on, as I'm senior man here – cut out one of the boats, provision her, and make a dash for the Marshall Islands."

"That's all very fine," admitted Phil, after Alwyn had explained his movements earlier in the day "Collaring the boat seems feasible; but how about provisioning her? We can't lug fifteen days' grub down through that tunnel and stow it away. And there's fresh water to be taken into account. We've no barricoes. Even if we had, how could we get, say, thirty gallons, or nearly three hundredweight of water to the boat?"

"That is a proposition," admitted Burgoyne thoughtfully. "Ten gallons ought to be sufficient, though. We must devise some way of getting hold of a barrel or two. Now as regards provisioning the boat. Has anyone a pencil?"

Withers supplied the required article.

"Phew!" ejaculated Burgoyne. "I feel like one of those 'Every Picture tells a Story' advertisements we used to see in the papers at home. You fellows carry on with your grub while I draw a rough chart of the island. I don't think it will be very much out."

In spite of several interruptions, and at the cost of considerable physical discomfort, Burgoyne completed the plan.

"Now," he continued, "there's a free passage right round the island inside the reef. Here's our compound; there's where the fence ends on the western side. Right underneath is a cave. If that won't suit, probably the others will. What's to prevent us going down by means of a rope and exploring? If everything's O.K. we can lower our reserve stock of provisions, and hide the stuff in the cave until it's wanted. Then, when opportunity serves, the crew told off to cut out the lifeboat will run her round one dark night, provision, and be more than hull down before dawn. If they fall in with a ship, so much the better. If not, they can make the Marshall Islands, and in less than a month there ought to be half a dozen cruisers off the island."

"Sounds all right," admitted Branscombe. "But how about a course?"

"I've a compass," replied Alwyn. "It's only a pocket one, and I don't know what the variation and deviation are. But steer due south and one can't go wrong. Whoever goes in charge of the boat takes the compass."

"Who will?" asked Withers.

"Branscombe," replied the Third Officer. "At least, he's down for the job. I can't go, unfortunately, but Phil is the only other officer available who has had experience in boat-sailing and navigation."

"Thanks, old son!" exclaimed Phil.

"You haven't gone yet, dear old thing," rejoined Burgoyne. "However, there's no harm in thinking things out. Another point is the crew. One hand will be sufficient. I would suggest that Scilly Islander, Minalto."

"A decent sort," conceded Branscombe.

"Yes," resumed Alwyn. "He started boat-sailing early in life. It's a sort of instinct with the Scilly Islanders, since they can't go a couple of miles in a straight line without having to make use of a boat. He's a bit slow on the up-take, but he can interpret an order intelligently. He's got initiative, and doesn't hang on to the slack – "

"My child!" ejaculated Withers, rolling his eyes. "Why this thusness?"

"You'd know quick enough if I could lay hold of you," declared Burgoyne with mock severity. "Now, buzz off, if you don't mind. I have some sort of idea that my head's aching."

Burgoyne did not get up on the following day, nor on the next. Before he was fit to resume control a week had passed. Phil Branscombe "carried on" for him, and the forced labour proceeded as leisurely as the pirate crew permitted.

As far as the occupants of the compound were concerned, Black Strogoff was a back number. Not since Burgoyne's encounter with the Peruvian had he put in an appearance. One result of the quarrel between Ramon Porfirio and Strogoff was the latter's transference to the Malfilio, where he was less likely to cause trouble than if left to influence a certain section of the pirates ashore. Fernando, Strogoff's understudy, was undoubtedly a brute and lacked the intelligence of the Russo-German, and the various members of the crews of the three captured ships soon found that Fernando could be easily hoodwinked.

During the week in which Burgoyne was detained within the compound, he was kept well in touch with the progress of events. The Malfilio during that period remained in harbour. Withers, who had been sent on board the cruiser to assist in executing repairs reported that her machinery was far from being in an efficient state, and that during her last trip to sea she had burst the main steam-pipe of her starboard engine. What had transpired during that short cruise he was unable to ascertain; but it was evident that Ramon Porfirio was in a very "jumpy" state.

In point of fact, the Malfilio was overhauling an oil-tanker when the steam-pipe gave out. Consequently the pursued vessel got away; but whether she had any suspicion of the nature of the cruiser was a matter for doubt in the pirate captain's mind. If she had, then her escape would mean that the world would know of the existence of a pirate craft in the North Pacific, and in due time things would be made far too hot for Señor Ramon Porfirio.

Alwyn saw a good deal of Young Bill during his convalescence. The girl's visits brought balm to his mind, but he would not have felt quite so elated had he known that Hilda impartially distributed her favours between all the "sick bay" cases amongst the Donibristle's crew.

"I suppose you are properly fed up, being cooped on this island?" asked Burgoyne.

"Not at all," replied Miss Vivian. "It's rather exciting, especially wondering how we are going to get out of it. If things get no worse there's not much to complain about. It was very hard losing Mother, and both Dad and I feel the loss very much. But apart from that there's nothing much to worry about – except carrying out your orders, sir," she added, with an enigmatical smile.

"I'm glad you did that," said Alwyn.

"Supposing I had refused to wear these clothes, and insisted upon keeping my face clean? As it is, I renew my charcoal powder three times a day."

"Had you refused I should have taken steps to compel you," declared Burgoyne firmly.

"I don't see how," remarked Hilda.

"It is unnecessary to give details," said Alwyn, his face growing stern. "I can tell you this; if those ruffians had found out your sex you would have been shot."

"Shot?" repeated the girl, unable to conceal her astonishment. "By whom?"

"I should have done it," was Burgoyne's startling reply. "With the full consent of your father. If you wish to know why, ask him."

Hilda Vivian changed the subject abruptly. Nor did Burgoyne ever have to refer to the matter again It was, he reflected, a brutally drastic step to take, but it had the desired result. The girl realized that it was not an idle masquerade, but the shadow of a great peril, that compelled her to assume the rôle of ship's boy.

A surprise awaited Alwyn when he was able to resume duty. Captain Blair had made a rapid recovery, and was now able to resume his interrupted control of the Donibristle's officers and crew to the extent permitted by Señor Ramon Porfirio and company.

Alwyn accepted the change most cheerfully. Although for certain reasons he was loth to relinquish many of his responsibilities, he was now left with a relatively free hand. He could pursue his investigations with less fear of inside interruptions, since any question of routine would be made direct to the skipper. He would also be able to take command of the lifeboat, if and when she started on her long voyage to the Marshall Islands. It was rather rough luck on Branscombe, he reflected, being done out of that part of the excitement, but there was no question as to who was the better man at handling a small sailing-boat.

At the first opportunity Burgoyne broached the subject to Captain Blair. The Old Man listened carefully to the Third Officer's recital, then, to the latter's utter astonishment he said:

"I'm sorry, Mr. Burgoyne, but I refuse to give you or anyone else permission to make the attempt."