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CHAPTER XIII
"Getting on with It"

For some moments Burgoyne was completely dumbfounded. He could form no satisfactory reason for the Old Man's emphatic decision, unless Captain Blair was labouring under a delusion owing to a hitherto unsuspected mental trouble.

It seemed incredible that Alwyn's carefully-thought-out plans and careful preparations (although the latter were only in the initial stages) should have been drastically turned down, especially as they had met with the approval and gained the co-operation of every other surviving officer of the Donibristle.

Burgoyne uttered no word of protest. It was not for him to reason why – at least audibly. His sense of duty – impressed upon him from his early days of Osborne – had taught him to receive and carry out orders unquestioningly. So he held his peace and waited.

"I suppose you'd like my reasons for the decision, Mr. Burgoyne?" asked the Old Man.

"I would, sir, if you have no objection."

"Not in the least," rejoined the skipper. "The chief one is that there is no immediate necessity for you to take this step. As things go we have nothing much to complain about." ("Exactly what Miss Vivian said," thought the Third Officer.) "It is reasonable to assume that Porfirio cannot carry on for long, and release will come possibly long before you could reach the Marshall Islands. It's a tremendous voyage for an open boat, and the results gained, if any, would not justify the risk. Then, again, there's the question of reprisals. The pirates would miss the boat and draw perfectly logical conclusions. They would revenge themselves on those who would be still in their power, even to the extent of committing cold-blooded murder. No doubt you think I'm a bit in a blue funk, but I have the advantage of years, and that has taught me to look ahead and not wait till I see a rock under my bows. However, I don't want to moralize. I hope you see my point?"

"Yes, sir," replied Alwyn.

"However," continued the Old Man briskly, "there's no reason why you shouldn't carry on with your preparations. If occasion should arise for someone to leave the island in a hurry, it is as well to be ready for the emergency. But, until occasion does arise, it is folly to precipitate matters, and deliberately seek the path of a typhoon when we are bowling along before a steady breeze. By the by, what has that wash-out Miles been doing?"

"He was placed in Mr. Branscombe's party working on board the Donibristle, sir."

"H'm. I'll tell Branscombe to keep a pretty sharp eye on him. Captain Davis informs me that Miles seems rather fond of that ruffian Strogoff."

"Is that so?" remarked Alwyn. "I was under the impression that Strogoff was sent on board the Malfilio."

"He was aboard the old Donibristle yesterday, at any rate," declared the skipper. "Miles knows about Miss Vivian, and, although I cannot say definitely, I think he's the sort of man who wouldn't hesitate to give the show away if he could make his own case good."

The seriousness of Captain Blair's words took Burgoyne aback. The Third Officer remembered that little incident of the chocolate. It was but a straw that showed the direction of the wind. Miles had proved himself to be a man of no moral fibre. To what depths would he descend to obtain consideration from the villainous Strogoff?

"That is why you wanted the boat held in readiness, sir," he asked. "To remove Miss Vivian from the island in the event of discovery?"

"You've hit it, Mr. Burgoyne. The sooner the preparations are completed the better; but, of course, there may be no necessity for them. I quite agree with you that Minalto is the right man for the job, with you in charge of the boat."

"And Colonel Vivian."

"He won't be going," declared the skipper. "I pointed out to him the almost unsurmountable disadvantages of having a cripple in the boat. His health, too, isn't at all good. He quite saw the force of my contention."

"We are speaking, sir, as if the lifeboat were already in our possession."

"Aye," rejoined the Old Man. "It's a rough proposition, Mr. Burgoyne, but from what you've told me the task is not beyond your ingenuity."

That night Burgoyne carefully revised the altered situation. The perplexing factor in the case was the uncertainty of the time when the boat might be required. He could not completely grasp the meaning of Captain Blair's decision to refrain from action until Miss Vivian was in immediate danger. It was obvious that the boat must be seized, taken to the western side of the harbour, and provisioned all within a few hours, and be out of sight before dawn. There wasn't the faintest hope of being able to conceal the boat for several days prior to the dash for freedom. The mere fact that the lifeboat had been removed from the beach would be sufficient to put the pirates on the qui vive.

And, again, although a fair amount of provisions had been set aside to victual the boat, nothing had yet been done to hide them in the cave. Neither had any of the people in the secret been able to obtain a receptacle of any description to carry water, and fresh water was indispensable for the voyage.

Nor had the cave been explored. Branscombe had collected enough rope to make a three-inch hawser of two hundred and fifty feet in length, more than sufficient to reach from the top of the cliff to the beach, but the actual descent had not yet been attempted.

Clearly a stupendous task confronted Burgoyne. Much had been accomplished, but more remained to be done in secrecy and with dispatch.

On the following morning Burgoyne rejoined his working-party. Fernando, the half-caste who had succeeded Black Strogoff as overseer-in-chief to the prisoners, nodded and made some remark. The words being Spanish, Alwyn failed to understand them, but evidently they were of a complimentary nature.

Before the working-party arrived upon the scene of operations, one of the men who had done a good deal of voyaging on the South American coast explained that Señor Fernando was delighted that Perez – Burgoyne's late opponent – had been vanquished. There was no love lost between Fernando and the late leading gun-layer of the Malfilio.

The work of unloading the Donibristle's cargo had been completed, but most of her stores were taken on board the Kittiwake. It was obviously the intention of the pirates to keep the latter vessel in a seaworthy condition, since she had not been stripped as in the case of the other prizes. In addition, a wireless operator, a German with a knowledge of four or five languages, was constantly on duty on board the Kittiwake. He merely "caught" and reported radios from vessels within range of the apparatus, making no attempt to transmit, lest the source of origin might be located.

Instead of being ordered to man the crane, Burgoyne's party were marched through the tunnel down to the beach. Here they "stood easy", while a number of the Malfilio's crew launched and loaded a boat, placing a number of explosive charges into the stern-sheets. The pirates then pushed off and made for the Donibristle.

Presently the reason for the unusual "stand easy" became apparent. Pablo Henriques, being unable to give intelligible orders in English, had reluctantly been compelled to bring Black Strogoff upon the scene.

For the next three hours the captives were kept hard at it, laying out anchors in the centre of the deep channel, until a continuous line of warping buoys was laid from the Donibristle's berth to the entrance to the enclosed harbour. It was heavy and exacting work handling those anchors, weighing anything between five and nine hundredweight. A hitch in the operations, or the slightest lubberly work, might easily result in the capsizing of one of the boats, and more than likely the loss of several of her crew.

This task completed, the men expected a respite. They got none. Instead, Black Strogoff ordered them to take other anchors and place them on either side of the narrow channel turning southward between the island and the long narrow mass of rock that protected the entrance to the harbour.

Fortunately the water inside the lagoon was as smooth as a mill-pond, and by "knocking-off time" six pairs of anchors were in position, "backed" by pickets and crowbars. Each pair of anchors was connected by cables, buoyed in the centre of the span.

Still "in the dark" as to the reason for this strenuous labour, Burgoyne returned with his party to the compound. Three of the men walked back with severe physical discomfort, apparently suffering from what is popularly known as a stiff knee. Within five minutes after they were dismissed they were all right again – and Burgoyne had added three useful crow-bars to the steadily accumulating stock.

Literally speaking, Burgoyne had returned empty-handed. Metaphorically he had not; for, strapped to the small of his back was a flat pulley of the "snatch-block" type, with a sheave capable of taking a three-inch rope.

All this was attended by great risk to the parties concerned. Although the systematic search to which the prisoners were at first subjected had been discontinued, the pirate guards occasionally went to the length of ordering some of the captives aside; but fortunately the greatly desired articles were smuggled into the compound without detection.

During the day Captain Blair had not been idle. Although "fit for duty" he had remained in the compound with the idea of obtaining a greatly-needed water-barrel.

Directly the working-parties had cleared off, the Old Man, armed with an axe that had been issued to the "galley", made his way to the spring that supplied the prisoners with fresh water. There was not a large supply, although the flow was fairly constant, and in order to ensure that a sufficient quantity should always be on hand, a large cask with the head knocked off had been sunk in the sand to catch the trickle of water from the spring.

Cautiously, so as not permanently to injure the cask, Captain Blair removed three of the hoops and "started" some of the closely-fitting staves. Then, wedging the openings with pebbles, he brought the "chine" back into position and replaced the chine-hoop. When the sand was replaced around the barrel, it appeared to be intact though utterly leaky.

His next step was to go to the wicket-gate and report the lack of fresh water to Señor Fernando.

The latter inspected the faulty cask, and by a smattering of English, aided by signs, told the skipper to get another cask from the cooperage.

Delighted with the way in which his little "stunt" was panning out, Captain Blair ordered the steward and Twill to accompany him. Escorted by Fernando the three men passed through the wicket-gate without difficulty, and proceeded to the store where spare casks and barricoes were kept.

The door of the cooperage was open, as was the case with most buildings containing articles of bulk and of no great value, although everything was carefully locked after working hours. Fernando was smoking the inevitable cigarette, and, since Ramon Porfirio's instructions against smoking in wooden buildings were very exact, he remained outside.

It did not take the Old Man long to choose a suitable cask. Into it he placed two barricoes, each capable of holding twelve gallons of water, and jammed them tightly against the bottom of the cask. The head of the latter was then deftly replaced and Captain Blair and his two assistants rolled their prize into the open.

With perspiration oozing from every pore, Barnes and Twill propelled the cask to the gate of the compound. Here Fernando left them, and the guard, taking it for granted that no search was necessary, since the prisoners were escorted, made no attempt to examine the seemingly empty barrel.

Under the lee of the cook-house the skipper removed the barricoes and carried them into his quarters. An hour later the prisoner's water-supply was again normal.

But the Old Man's triumph was short-lived. The unexpected and dramatic appearance of the Chinese store-house man, Li Whong, accompanied by a couple of armed pirates, completely took the wind out of his sails.

In pidgin English Li forcibly demanded the return of the barricoes. Vainly Captain Blair tried to explain that he had taken the water-barrels with the idea of saving numerous journeys to the spring.

The Old Man had to surrender his hard won trophies, and received an admonitory kick from the Chink into the bargain. No wonder, then, he was "fed up to the back teeth" when Burgoyne returned.

"Rough luck, sir," sympathized Alwyn. "Wonder how that Chink got wind of it?"

"Dashed if I know," replied Captain Blair. "It only shows we'll have to be most careful. Do you think it safe to carry out your investigations to-night?"

"I think so, sir," said Burgoyne. "For one thing, there's no moon and the tide's favourable."

"The tide!" exclaimed the Old Man. "What's the tide got to do with it? There's always a beach above high-water mark down there."

"Quite so, sir," agreed the Third Officer. "But I want to explore the whole extent of the bay to see if there's a practicable means of ascent on the other side of the fence. As the tide's falling, I can keep below high-water mark, and the flood tide will wipe out my footprints."

"That didn't occur to me," admitted Captain Blair. "Well, good luck, and may you fare better than I did."

CHAPTER XIV
The Vigil on the Cliffs

At ten o'clock, having snatched two hours of sound sleep, Burgoyne was awakened by Phil Branscombe and Withers.

"What's it like outside?" was Alwyn's first question.

"Quiet," replied Phil. "What little wind there is is off shore for us, an' there's just about enough starlight. I've got the pickets and the block, Withers has the rope, and Minalto and Twill are outside."

Although, with one exception, every officer, passenger and man of the Donibristle knew of what was about to take place, and offers of assistance had simply poured in, Burgoyne had been compelled to limit the exploring-party to five. It was the absolute maximum and minimum, since two were required to descend the cliff, and three to man the rope by which the others were to be lowered and hauled up again.

The only one not in the secret was the Canuk, Miles. One night recently he had not been in the compound, and, putting two and two together, Captain Blair had concluded that the fellow was in touch with one section of the pirate crew. On that occasion the prisoners had been numbered off both in leaving and returning to the compound, and although one was missing, the fact did not appear to trouble the custodians of the gate. When Captain Blair taxed the delinquent, and demanded an explanation, Miles pitched in a plausible yarn to the effect that he had been working down below on board the Donibristle, and had failed to hear the signal for the working-parties to go ashore. Then, afraid of being found on board by the pirates, he had lain low till the following day.

The Old Man accepted the statement without comment, but he fully expected that any day the "drummer" would openly join the pirates.

To prevent him from "walking in his sleep" and stumbling across the men working on the edge of the cliff, Miles was now closely watched by three of the Donibristle's crew, with instructions from the Old Man that if the fellow attempted to leave his hut before daybreak he was to be forcibly detained.

"I can't do more simply on suspicion," the skipper confided to Burgoyne. "If I were sure that the miserable blighter was playing a dirty trick, over the cliff he'd go one dark night, or my name's not Roger Blair."

In single file and with the utmost caution the five adventurers made their way to the cliff immediately above the caves that Burgoyne had noticed during the fishing expedition. From the huts where the pirates lived when ashore came the sounds of boisterous revelry. Not a light was visible on the island, but the silhouette of the look-out hill stood out sharply against the starry sky. There were alert men stationed on that lofty perch, but whether they could discern the five figures working silently on the edge of the cliff was extremely doubtful, since the latter did not cut the sky-line. Nor could the pirates on the hill command the expanse of beach below the cliff.

Muffling the head of one of the crow-bars with a piece of wet canvas Jasper Minalto drove the iron rod deeply into the ground. The operation was anxiously watched by the rest, fearful lest even the dull thuds of the wood that served as a maul would betray their presence.

"All right, so far," declared Alwyn. "Carry on, Minalto."

A second crow-bar was driven home at about a foot from the first and parallel with the edge of the cliff. Between these and about six inches from the ground the third bar was lashed horizontally. Under the fork thus formed a stout beam was thrust, until its end projected three feet into space, with fifteen feet left resting on the turf. The beam had been removed under cover of darkness from one of the tumble-down huts, and must needs be replaced before dawn.

To the outward end of the projecting piece of timber the snatch-block had been securely strapped. Then the end of the coil of rope was pressed over the sheave, a "bowline on the bight" having been made to accommodate the descending man.

"All ready, I think," said Burgoyne quietly. "Stand by, and when I'm ready, lower away handsomely."

With four men holding on to the rope the Third Officer slipped into the bowline. The rope ran slowly through the well-oiled block, and Alwyn vanished from sight.

It was an eerie sensation dangling at the end of a rope over a cliff more than two hundred feet high. The darkness destroyed the idea of distance, but the descent was none the less hazardous on that account. Although every care had been taken in the surreptitious making of the rope, and every precaution taken to test it, there might be a weak spot that had escaped detection.

Almost from the first of the descent the rope began to turn until he was spinning giddily; then, as the length of rope increased, a swaying motion was additionally imparted, until several times Alwyn bumped heavily against the face of the cliff. He was thus able to check the rotary motion at the expense of sundry and various bruises.

"By Jove," he soliloquized, in the midst of this human punch-ball performance, "it'll be rough on Young Bill if we ever have to lower her down. It would scare her stiff right away."

The actual descent took four minutes. To Burgoyne it seemed much longer, and it was with considerable relief that he felt his feet touch the soft sand, and was able to extricate his cramped and bruised frame from the embraces of the bowline.

There was no need to shout to the others to "'vast paying out!" The release of the tension on the rope told them that the descent was accomplished. Then, like a phantom, the bowline vanished as the helpers hauled the rope to the top of the cliff. Within five minutes Jasper Minalto joined Burgoyne on the beach. Since there was the possibility of the rope's shortening with the release of his weight, and contracting by the heavy dew, he took the precaution of bending in a length of light line and weighting it with a lump of coral.

Burgoyne was not likely to fail through lack of precaution or by neglecting to take proper steps to facilitate his return.

The cave exceeded the Third Officer's expectations. It was for the most part dry, the floor being above high-water mark, and the undisturbed sand at its mouth pointed to the fact that a long time had elapsed since human feet had trodden it. Darkness prevented a minute examination, and it was only by a sense of touch that the two men were able to make their investigations.

About eighty feet in length, and with a gradually shelving floor, the cave was less than five feet in height at its entrance, but soon increased until Minalto was unable to touch the roof even with his enormous reach. In width it averaged about twelve feet when half a dozen paces inside its mouth.

There was water, too. Eagerly Burgoyne groped for and found the steady trickle. Holding his hands cup-fashion he filled his palms with water and held the liquid to his lips.

"Fresh!" he exclaimed to his companion. "We're in luck this time."

"But we've nothin' in the barrel line for tu put et in," added Jasper.

"Not even a petrol tin," added Alwyn. "Ever drunk water out of a petrol tin, Minalto?"

The Scilly Islander shook his head.

"Leave ut tu you, sir," he replied. "I've a-drunk water wi' three inches o' paraffin on top of ut on the West Coast – Accra way. That wur enough for I."

Gently jerking the rope, as a signal to Branscombe for the stock of emergency rations to be sent down, Burgoyne gave his companion instructions to bury the stuff in the cave. Leaving Minalto to carry on, the Third Officer walked down to the water's edge, then, turning abruptly to the left, followed the line of wet sand left by the receding tide.

At every possible spot where the cliff might be scalable he approached the base of the rocks, always without the desired result. Carefully obliterating his footprints on the dry sand, he continued his way until farther progress was barred by the abrupt ending of the beach at a point beyond which the cliff rose sheer from the lagoon.

The secret base was an unscalable plateau with only one approach – except by means of a rope – and that was the carefully-guarded tunnel, where more than likely (although Burgoyne was not certain on that point) the double portcullis was lowered every night.

Disappointed but by no means disheartened Burgoyne returned to the cave, where Jasper had completed his task and was awaiting him. To him Alwyn related the results of his investigations.

"Lawks!" exclaimed Minalto. "You can swim, can't you, sir? What's wrong with the reef? Can't us swim off to 'en and walk round to t' harbour? I'd do it now, on my head like, if you're in no particular hurry."

"Sharks?" queried Alwyn.

"Sharks!" repeated Jasper. "Ain't seen none since I've bin on the island, an' many's the time I've watched the water an' within' I could have a swim. What d'ye say, sir. Might I go?"

Burgoyne was fired by the man's enthusiasm. It was now midnight. Allowing three hours to cover a distance of six or seven miles, Minalto ought with luck to be back well before four. This would give the party an hour and a half before dawn in which to "pack up", replace gear, remove all traces of the night's work, and regain their quarters.

"All right," agreed the Third Officer. "I'll come with you as far as the end of the bay. Wish I could do the whole thing, only the others would be scared stiff and think we'd done ourselves in. When I return I'll get myself hauled up and wait on the top of the cliff. You know the signal? Right, and don't forget to wipe out your footprints. The tide will be at quarter flood on your return."

With many other cautions and suggestions, Burgoyne accompanied the stout-hearted seaman to a spot where the reef approached to within three hundred yards of the shore.

Taking off his shoes, and slinging them round his neck, Minalto waded waist-deep into the water and struck out for the line of milk-white foam that marked the reef. Burgoyne remained at the edge of the lagoon until the phosphorescent swirl that marked the swimmer's progress was merged into the darkness. He had no indication that Minalto had reached the reef, for his white-clad form would be indistinguishable against the ever-breaking wall of foam.

Retracing his way to the cave Burgoyne slipped into the bowline and tugged three times at the rope. The signal was promptly answered, and the swaying, roundabout ascent commenced.

"Well?" inquired Branscombe anxiously, when Alwyn landed safely on the top of the cliff.

"All serene," replied the Third Officer, a little breathlessly. "We'll have to stand by for a few hours. Minalto has gone on a voyage of exploration. That chap gave me a thundering good idea. I was getting a bit tied up in knots when I found there was no way up from the beach, so he suggested walking along the reef – and he's gone and done it," he added vernacularly.

Dispatching Twill to inform Captain Blair of the alteration of plans, so that the Old Man would not be unduly anxious about their failure to return at the suggested time, the three officers prepared to make the best of their long vigil. They took fifteen minutes' shifts to tend the rope, so that should Minalto return before they expected there would be no delay in receiving his signal and hauling him up.

"Can you get hold of another length of signal halyard, Phil?" asked Alwyn. "Another three hundred feet of it."

"I dare say," replied Branscombe. "I'll have a jolly good shot at getting it, anyway. What's the scheme?"

Burgoyne rubbed his aching shoulders.

"If you'd been barged into the cliff umpteen times, old son, you'd know," he declared grimly. "We want a guide-line, stretched taut and about eighteen inches inside the rope. That'll prevent anyone being bumped, and also spare them the luxury of an impromptu merry-go-round. We'll have to lower Young Bill, and we may as well make things as comfortable as possible for her."

"Quite so," agreed Phil. "I'll get some line tomorrow, even if it makes my figure look like that of a portly alderman. It wouldn't be a bad idea either to get hold of some spare canvas. You'll want some sort of awning or tent for the boat, and it will come in handy. For one thing, we can wrap Miss Vivian up in it when we lower her."

"What for?" asked Withers.

"To protect her in case any loose stones fall from the cliff," explained Branscombe. "'Sides, if she's covered up she won't be quite so frightened when she's being lowered. At least, I shouldn't think so."

For some minutes silence reigned, save for the ever-present dull rumble of the surf. Then Withers apparently without any reason, began chuckling to himself.

"What is it?" asked Phil.

"What's the joke," added Alwyn. "Out with it."

"Nothing much," replied Withers. "Only a reminiscence. This cliff recalled it."

He paused, his eyes fixed seaward.

"Let's have it, old son," prompted Branscombe.

"I thought I saw a vessel's masthead light out there," declared the Second Engineer. "Must have been mistaken… The yarn? Oh, it was merely an incident. It was in '14, just after war broke out. I was on a collier awaiting orders at Whitby. Everyone was on thorns over the spy scare. Well, one night, there was a report that lights were flashing on the cliff, and a crowd of fellows went off to investigate. Having nothing better to do that evening, I went too. Sure enough there were lights about every half minute. About two miles from Whitby we ran full tilt into a couple of men striking matches, so they were promptly collared."

The narrator paused and looked seaward again.

"What happened?" asked Burgoyne.

"Nothing – they were released," replied Withers.

"I can't see anything funny in that," remarked Phil.

"Well, it was funny – and pathetic, too," explained Withers. "They were deaf mutes. One lived in a small cottage near Kettleness, and the other's home was in York. They had missed the last train for Kettleness and were walking along the cliff path to Whitby. Their only means of communicating with each other was by lip-reading, and since it was dark they stopped and struck matches whenever they wanted to converse. They had used up three boxes of matches by the time we came up. Poor blighters! As likely as not they didn't know there was a war on; if they did it was obvious they hadn't heard about the regulations concerning coastwise lights. But, by Jove! surely those are vessel's steaming lights?"

"It is, by smoke!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "A steamer going south. I can just distinguish her port light."

"The Malfilio perhaps?" suggested Branscombe.

"Not she," declared Withers. "That steam pipe of hers will take at least two days more before it's patched up."

"I can see her green, now," announced Alwyn "She's altering course. If she holds on she'll pile herself upon the reef."

Helpless to warn the on-coming vessel – for even had the three officers been provided with means of signalling they would have incurred heavy penalties by the pirates and the wrecking of all the formers' carefully laid plans – the watchers on the cliff awaited events.

The vessel was now steaming dead slow – at least she took an unconscionable time in approaching. That was in her favour. It might give the look-outs the opportunity to hear the roar of the surf; while, even if she did strike, and were held by the coral reef, she would not be likely to sustain serious damage.

Suddenly a dazzling glare leapt from the vessel and the giant beam of a searchlight swept the island. From where the three officers lay prone on the grass they could see the rim of the cliff outlined in silver. The crest of the Observation Hill was bathed in the electric gleams, but elsewhere, owing to the depression towards the centre of the plateau, the island was in darkness. So carefully chosen was the site of the various buildings that nowhere from seaward could they be visible.

"A warship!" declared Burgoyne. "I say, this complicates matters. Let's get back to the huts, or we'll be missed. We can return before dawn."

Cautiously the three officers made their way down the slight slope, where the darkness, by contrast with the slowly traversing beam of light overhead, was intense.

When within fifty yards of the nearest of the prisoners' huts Burgoyne gripped his companions' arms.

"Lie down!" he whispered.

Both officers obeyed promptly. Alwyn, on hands and knees, went on. Presently he rejoined them.

"It's too late," he said in a low voice. "There is an armed pirate outside every hut."