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CHAPTER XV
How Minalto Fared
Burgoyne and his companions were on the horns of a dilemma. If they persisted in their attempt to regain their quarters they would almost certainly be detected, while even if they succeeded they would be unable to return to the cliff. Minalto would have to be left to take his chance, and the gaunt evidence of the night's work would be laid bare with the dawn. If they returned to the cliff there was the possibility that they would have to hide all next day, and be faced with the awkward problem of explaining their absence satisfactorily.
They chose the latter course, and upon returning to the scene of the lowering operations they flung themselves flat upon the turf, lest their silhouettes would betray them to the pirates stationed about the camp and concealed in the bushes on the summit of Observation Hill.
There they lay, hardly daring to stir a limb and maintaining absolute silence for the best part of an hour. Then the searchlight, which had been playing continuously upon the island, was suddenly masked. Twenty minutes later Burgoyne cautiously raised his head and looked seaward. A flickering white light informed him that the vessel was steaming rapidly away.
"Hang on here," he whispered to his companions "I'm going to have a look round."
He was back in a quarter of an hour, with the report that he had seen the pirate guard form up and march through the gate of the compound.
"That leaves us with a tolerably free hand," he added. "I was afraid they'd muster all hands and call the roll. No sign of Minalto yet, I suppose?"
"None," replied Withers, who had been holding on to the rope. "He's a bit behind time. I hope nothing's gone wrong."
"So do I," agreed Alwyn fervently.
Slowly the minutes passed. Momentarily doubts grew in the minds of the three watchers. Even Alwyn's faith in Minalto's powers was waning.
"I'll take on now," he remarked, relieving the Second Engineer at the rope.
He had barely resumed his "trick" when the manila rope was almost jerked out of his hand. From the unseen depths below came three decided tugs.
"He's back, lads," whispered Burgoyne joyously. "All together. Man the rope – walk back."
It was no easy task to hoist the ponderous seaman, but at length Jasper Minalto's head and shoulders appeared above the edge of the cliff. With no apparent effort he swung himself up by the projecting beam and gained the summit. Slipping out of the bowline, he shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, for water was dripping from his saturated clothes.
"I've been there sartain sure," he announced coolly, "an' back agen, sir. If you'm your doubts, sir, there's my 'nitials scratched on ter boat's back-board, fair an' legible-like s'long as you looks carefully."
Burgoyne brought his hand down upon the seaman's shoulder.
"Splendid!" he exclaimed. "You must spin your yarn later, after we've packed up and stowed away the gear. There's not much time. But, in any case, Minalto, you've won your place in the boat."
"Thank'ee, sir," replied Jasper gratefully.
Grey dawn was showing over the eastern height of the island when the four men returned to their huts. Burgoyne reported "all well" to Captain Blair, who, declining to hear details, told the Third Officer to turn in.
"You can't work watch and watch for two successive days unless you have a 'caulk'," he added. "It will be another hour and a quarter before the hands are turned out. Make the best of it."
But the Old Man was wrong in his estimate. No attempt was made to summon the crews of the three captured ships to their forced labour. They were piped to breakfast and then allowed to "stand easy", while armed pirates patrolled the inner circle of huts in addition to augmenting the guards in the two block-houses.
"Something's in the wind," declared Captain Blair. "The vessel that used her searchlight last night is evidently beating up for the island."
Soon there was no doubt on the point. From the compound the heights commanding the harbour and eastern approach to the island were plainly visible. Bodies of pirates were being rushed up to the concealed gun emplacements, which they could reach without being seen from seaward. Others were hurrying towards the tunnel, with the idea of manning the machine-guns that swept the entrance to the harbour and the only landing-place.
"The ball's about to commence," said Branscombe. "Wonder who'll open fire first?"
The prisoners listened in breathless suspense for the crash of the opening contest between the warship – or whatever she might be – and the quick-firers comprising the principal defences of the island. At intervals a powerful syren boomed out its raucous wail, demanding in Morse Code whether there were any people on the island.
Presently the sound came from the south'ard and then the west'ard, but no reply was sent from the pirates lying low on the apparently uninhabited island.
An hour later the captives caught sight of the trucks and aerials of a two-masted vessel proceeding on an easterly course at a distance of about two miles north of the island. Then the two mastheads vanished behind the rising ground; but from the fact that the batteries were still manned the Donibristle's people drew what proved to be a correct conclusion that the vessel had once more taken up a position off the eastern face of the secret base.
At noon, the prisoners still standing easy, Captain Blair called a meeting of officers to receive the reports of the investigating party.
It was Jasper Minalto's recital which created the greatest interest. After parting with Mr. Burgoyne on the shore, he said he swam to the reef, landing without difficulty on a flat expanse of coral. Although the reef averaged twenty yards in width and the state of the tide was almost low-water, the breakers swept far across the coral barrier before they expended their strength. Had it been anything near approaching high-water progress along the reef would have been extremely dangerous, if not impracticable.
But in present circumstances Minalto found the reef "fair going". There were several deep and narrow gulleys to be crossed, while there was a strong tidal current setting out of the only possible boat channel – not taking into consideration the ship passage – which was on the extreme south-western part of the reef.
It required a strenuous effort to swim across the narrow gap, but Minalto expressed an opinion that at dead low-water, or thereabouts, there would be little or no current.
Off the south-eastern end of the island he found himself quite a mile from shore, but on the eastern side the reef converged towards the island. Nevertheless he had to swim a quarter of a mile, aided by the set of the current, to gain the long, narrow and lofty ledge of rock that screened the harbour in which the Malfilio and her prizes were lying.
Here the buoys laid down the previous day by the Donibristle's crew helped him considerably, since he was able to hang on to them and rest as he made his way up the narrow channel.
Swimming close to the rocks on the island side of the channel, he arrived at the entrance to the harbour, and was glad to find his feet touch bottom just within the southern spur of rock that practically enclosed the anchorage.
From that point he waded until he reached the sandy beach. Everything was quiet. Keeping close to the cliff he passed the boatsheds and almost tripped over the chain securing the hauled-up boats.
Arriving at his goal, Minalto, as he told Burgoyne, scratched his initials upon the lifeboat's back-board. Then, having established his claim, he began to retrace his course.
At that moment he was considerably taken aback by seeing a light flash across the sky. His first thought was that the pirates had discovered him, but upon second consideration he rightly concluded that the flash came from a searchlight in the offing.
Before he had gone very far a faint light blinked from a point half-way up the cliff and immediately above (so he judged) the entrance to the tunnel. It was promptly answered by a light from the Malfilio and in a few minutes the crew of the pirate cruiser were standing to their guns. From where Minalto stood he could see all the starboard guns trained upon the entrance to the harbour, and rather apprehensively he wondered what would happen to him if they opened fire when he was swimming through that narrow gap.
He remained for some minutes crouching against the cliff, until it occurred to him that time and tide wait for no man, and that if he were to return by the way he came he would have to hurry his movements.
Minalto took the water as noiselessly as an otter. Swimming dog-stroke in order to minimize the phosphorescent swirl of his wake, he kept close to the cliffs – so close, in fact, that once his right knee came into sharp contact with a rock.
Then came the crucial point of his return journey – the passage of the harbour mouth. Dozens of pairs of eyes must, he knew, be peering in that direction, but he reckoned on the possibility that while they were looking for a large object, namely an armed boat from the warship off the island, they would fail to detect a small one – the head of the swimmer.
Unobserved he cleared the projecting headland, and working from buoy to buoy along the south approach channel until he came in view of the reef, gained a "kicking-off" position for the longest and most strenuous of his many swims that night.
Although the sea was warm he was beginning to feel that "water-logged" sensation that results from keeping in too long. Alternately swimming on his breast and back he continued doggedly, knowing that if he rested he would be swept out of his course by the steady indraught into the lagoon, for by this time the young flood was making.
At length he gained the reef, rubbed his cramped limbs, and set off briskly to the point nearest that part of the island whence he had set out, and an hour and a half later he was being hauled up the cliff.
Jasper Minalto had told his story, without any embellishments, in the broad, burring dialect of the West Country. But behind that simple narrative his listeners detected a ring of indomitability that had brought the man safely through the grave perils by land and sea.
"That coral is most heavy on shoe leather," he remarked. "Fair cut to pieces 'un is. But nex' time 'twill be only one way, like; seein' as how us be a-comin' back wi' the boat."
"You think we'll be able to launch the lifeboat and get her round without being spotted?" asked Captain Blair.
"We'd best wait till the Malfilio's a-put to sea, sir," replied Minalto. "There wur nobody on the beach as far as I could see, an' t' other craft wur quiet enow."
"It was the vessel in the offing that put the crew of the Malfilio on the qui vive, I fancy," observed Burgoyne. "We'll have to take the ship into consideration, I'm afraid, sir. That is, if we are to take advantage of these moonless nights."
"We'll have to," decided the Old Man. "We've five clear days before the new moon grows sufficiently to cause trouble. Failing that it will mean a fortnight's delay – and then it may be too late. And then there's the question of fresh water," he added, still smarting from the effect of his splendid failure. "That is the question."
"What's wrang wi' a bit o' canvas?" inquired Angus. "A pair o' canvas tanks fitted 'tween thwarts'll just dae fine."
"A good idea, Mr. Angus," said the skipper. "We'll have to knock up a couple of canvas tanks. There's the question of evaporation and leakage by the boat heeling to be taken into account."
"And, perhaps, the water might be tainted by the canvas," added Alwyn.
"Havers, mon!" ejaculated the First Engineer scornfully. "May ye never hae wurrse. Mony a day I've drunk bad water – an' bad whusky forbye, an' I'll live to dae it again," he added with an air of finality. "We'll get on with it," decided Captain Blair. "After all, beggars can't be choosers. Any more points to raise? None. Very well, then; unless anything unforeseen takes place Mr. Burgoyne and Minalto will bring the boat round to the west beach at – ?"
"Three a.m. on Thursday," said Alwyn.
For the remainder of the day the captives' "stand easy" continued. As far as the men taking part in the previous night's work were concerned nothing could have been more welcome. It enabled them to make up arrears from loss of sleep and strenuous activity. Nevertheless the additional length of line for the guide-rope was forthcoming, the canvas water-tanks were sewn up and tested, and more provisions lowered and hidden in the cave.
There remained three clear days before the die was cast and the momentous step taken – unless events over which the late officers and crew of the Donibristle had no control should necessitate a hurried change of plans.
Just before sunset the guns' crews were withdrawn from the emplacements, and the guards stationed outside the huts were marched out of the compound, so apparently Señor Ramon Porfirio was satisfied that the vessel that had caused him great uneasiness had really taken her departure.
CHAPTER XVI
Captain Consett's Report
Extract from the Report of Captain Cyrus P. Consett, commanding U.S.S. Yosemite.
"To Rear-Admiral Josiah N. Felix,
"Commanding Third Pacific Squadron, U.S.N.
"Sir,
"I have the honour to report that in execution of previous orders I have carefully examined the area bounded by the 20th and 40th parallels and between 180° longitude and 160° W. longitude, paying particular attention to the uninhabited islands comprising the Ocean Group.
"II. Throughout these operations no trace has been found of the Alvarado, Kittiwake, and Donibristle.
"III. I have been constantly in touch by means of wireless with the British and Japanese warships engaged in searching for the missing ships. H.B.M.S. Adventurer has now received orders to return to Hong Kong, and H.I.J.M.S. Kanazawa has been recalled to Nagasaki. In no case have these vessels reported any signs of the above-mentioned missing ships.
* * * * * * * * * *
"VII. At midnight on the night of the 14th – 15th March, visibility being fair, wind Force 1 and sea smooth, a breaking sea was heard ahead. Knowing that I was in the vicinity of an island marked position uncertain on U.S. and British charts (Lat. 31° 10' 12" N., Long. 171° 30' 10" W.) the speed of the ship was reduced to five knots. At 12.15 a.m: course was altered eight points to port. Frequent casts gave a depth of from 49 to 30 fathoms. At 12.30 a.m. I ordered a searchlight to bear upon the island, continuing the inspection at intervals until 2.15 a.m. Deeming it prudent not to close the island during the hours of darkness I steered north by west until dawn.
"VIII. When sufficiently light I again approached the island, which is about three miles long on each of its four sides and forms a plateau fronted by cliffs averaging 200 feet in height. There is a considerable indentation on the western side, but no harbour. The closest examination by means of glasses failed to reveal any means of gaining the summit of the island, which is recognizable by a conical hill towards the center and a conspicuous group of palms on the south-eastern extremity. The island is surrounded by a continuous reef, over which the surf was breaking heavily.
"IX. In the circumstances I deemed it prudent not to send a boat ashore, as landing would be extremely hazardous if not impracticable. At intervals sound signals were made in the hope of attracting the attention of possible castaways, but there was no sign of life upon the island.
"X. At noon I caused independent observation to be made, determining the position of the island as follows: Lat N. 31° 10' 5"; Long. W. 171° 30' 15".
"XI. While regretting that the search has proved to be unsuccessful I wish to call your attention to the indefatigable zeal of the officers and men under my command, with a request that the Navy Board be informed of my recommendations set forth in paragraph V.
"I have the honor to be,
"Sir,"Your obedient Servant,
"CYRUS P. CONSETT,"Captain, U.S.N."
CHAPTER XVII
The Scuttling of the "Donibristle"
On the morning following the departure of the U.S.S. Yosemite from the vicinity of the secret base the forced labour parties turned out to find the rain descending in torrents. It was the first rainy day since the arrival of the Donibristle's crew, and they viewed the climatic conditions with marked disfavour.
There was no wind. Overhead from a mirky, dark-grey sky the heavy drops were falling vertically, thudding upon the corrugated iron sheets like the beating of a hundred kettle-drums and rebounding from the puddles already formed, until as far as the eye could see – a distance of less than fifty yards – everything appeared to be a confused blurr of moisture.
"There'll be wind behind this lot," remarked Captain Blair. "Let's hope it'll blow over before Thursday."
It was his first day outside the compound. Partly owing to the desire to share the discomforts with his men and also to make himself acquainted with the harbour, he had insisted upon taking charge of the working-party told off to proceed to the beach.
Ramon Porfirio was in a hurry to complete the operations hindered by the appearance of the Yosemite, which were to result in the blocking-up of the southern approach channel by sinking the Donibristle in about eight fathoms of water between the detached ridge and the southern arm of the cliff enclosing the harbour. It was for this purpose that buoys had been laid down in order to warp the Donibristle to the position chosen for the act of scuttling.
Already the vessel's masts and derricks had been taken out of her, and the wreckage of the funnels and bridge removed. Almost everything of a portable nature likely to be of use to the pirates had been landed, until with the exception of her engines and boilers very little remained but the hull and a few fittings considered of no value for removal.
Ill-equipped for the wet weather the Donibristle's company turned out and awaited the arrival of Fernando, who invariably superintended the calling of the roll. About fifty feet away and just visible through the rain were the Kittiwake's crew, who for the last week or more had been engaged in excavating dug-outs and trenches on the cliff through which the approach-tunnel had been driven. Farther away and lost to view, the remnants of the Alvarado's men were mustering for their daily toil.
Presently the skipper of the Kittiwake, seeing Captain Blair with his men, strolled over to him.
"Mornin', Blair," said Captain Davis. "Not a nice sort of morning for you to be turning out. Feelin' fit?"
"Fairly," admitted Captain Blair. "Eh, what is it?"
For the Kittiwake's Old Man had taken the Donibristle's skipper by the arm, and was leading him away from the rest of the party.
"A word in your ear, Blair," replied Captain Davis, lowering his voice "You've got a young woman amongst your crowd, haven't you?"
"How on earth did you get to know that?" demanded the astounded skipper.
"'Taint a question of my knowing," rejoined Captain Davis. "There are others in the know also I'm just warning you, Blair; you can count on Captain Davis and the Kittiwakes to help you put up a fight if need be, although the lot of us don't stand a dog's chance."
"Thanks for the warning, Davis," replied Captain Blair grimly. "I'll act upon it."
The arrival of the half-caste overseer terminated the conversation. Captain Blair, greatly perturbed, walked slowly back to his men.
An hour later the soaked and dispirited prisoners were launching several of the boats, amongst them the lifeboat that Burgoyne had definitely in view for the projected flight from the island. It was raining so heavily that by the time the boats ran alongside the Donibristle the bottom-boards were floating, in spite of the fact that the plugs had been withdrawn and the water allowed to drain out before launching.
Wearing an almost new dark blue bridge-coat that looked suspiciously like the skipper's, Black Strogoff was sheltering under the boat-deck when the working-party arrived. With him were half a dozen pirates armed with automatic pistols.
"You there!" shouted Black Strogoff on catching sight of Captain Blair. "Come you here. Do you know what is to be done? Run out warps ahead and astern, buoy and slip the cables to move the ship round that point. You understand? Good; then do it, and tell me when the work is finished."
There was no option but to obey. Calling Burgoyne and Branscombe Captain Blair allotted them their respective posts, sending the former away in a large pulling cutter to pass the bow warp to the nearmost buoy. He also took the opportunity of conferring hurriedly with Alwyn on another matter.
In the absence of steam the work of warping out had to be carried out by hand. The cable was slipped, and, under the united efforts of the score of men walking away with the bow warp, the Donibristle moved slowly, almost reluctantly, through the rain-beaten waters of the harbour.
As the battered hulk passed within a cable's length of the pirate cruiser, Ramon Porfirio stepped to the rail of the Malfilio and shouted a curt order to the sheltering Strogoff. Apparently the command was to the effect that the work must be hurried up, for the pirate lieutenant, emerging from his retreat, gave a brief and surly reply. Then, bawling to Captain Blair to tell the men to haul away quicker, he retired to his temporary den.
"Meaning, I suppose," observed Captain Blair to Branscombe, "that the Malfilio is about to sail and that Porfirio wants the job finished before he weighs. How is that fractured steam-pipe getting on, by the by, Angus?"
"It's patched up," reported the Chief Engineer with a dry chuckle. "She'll be raising steam I've nae doot, but she'll blaw yon patch clean out when they wark up tae onything like a pressure."
Captain Blair's surmise was a correct one. Porfirio, having picked up the wireless messages exchanged between the British, American, and Japanese cruisers engaged in searching for the missing merchant vessels, was aware that they had given up hope of finding the survivors and were returning to their respective bases. He was a believer in the old adage "Men and ships rot in port ", and was loth to keep the Malfilio and her polyglot crew in harbour any longer. Inactivity not only meant no prizes; the pirates, lawless except for the iron rule of their captain, were particularly apt to get out of hand when their enthusiasm flagged by standing idle.
But before he set sail he wanted to see the Donibristle sunk in the South Approach Channel. That entrance, he considered, was a weak spot in the natural defences of the secret base, and by sealing it against the passage of all but the smaller craft he would be able to devote all his resources to the defence of the sole remaining approach. Not that Ramon Porfirio had any desire to pit the guns of the island against a squadron of warships. He hoped to be able to disappear decently long before the secret was out, leaving Henriques and Strogoff to shift for themselves. Similarly Black Strogoff was fostering a plan to get away from the island with the bulk of the booty in specie, and, once clear, obtain his revenge on Porfirio by denouncing him to the British Admiralty or the U.S. Navy Board.
At length the Donibristle was warped out until her bows nearly touched the sheer face of the cliff that formed the detached screen to the anchorage. Hawsers were then led from her port quarter and starboard bow, until she swung straight up and down the Southern Approach Channel. A cable's length more and the ship arrived at the scene of her watery grave.
Captain Blair, looking much like a parent would when called upon to sacrifice a child – for the idea of scuttling his ship was hateful to him in the extreme – shouted for the boats to be recalled. The life-boat, in which Burgoyne and half a dozen men had been working, ranged alongside under the Donibristle's port quarter. Astern of the life-boat was a gig; while a couple of cutters and another gig – the latter only manned by pirates – came alongside the starboard accommodation ladder.
"We're in eight fathoms of water, Mr. Burgoyne," sang out the Old Man.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Third Officer.
Captain Blair turned and made his way to the spot where Black Strogoff was standing.
"We are in position," he reported gruffly.
"And about time, too," was the ungracious response. "All right, tell your men to push off."
The skipper of the Donibristle then crossed to the starboard rail, and leaning over the side ordered the men to lay off at a distance of about half a dozen boats' lengths. Then, calling to everyone of his party on board to abandon ship, he waited until the deck was clear of all but Black Strogoff and two or three of his followers, and lowering himself by a rope gained the gig on the port side.
The scuttling was quickly accomplished. In order to prevent the vessel from being raised at any future date the Kingston Valves were not employed to flood the ship, but in each of the holds and in the engine-room explosive charges had been placed in position ready to be electrically fired from the deck.
"You know what to do, Perez?" inquired Black Strogoff, addressing an olive-featured ruffian whose costume consisted of a pair of canvas trousers, a poncho made of pampas grass, and a cork lifebelt.
The man nodded. He had no great liking for the task, and was wondering what would happen to him if the charge was sufficiently powerful to blow up the decks as well as shattering the keel plates.
"You will feel only a slight shock," declared Strogoff reassuringly, but Perez noted that the lieutenant showed no inclination to remain. In point of fact Strogoff hurried down the accommodation ladder, jumped into the gig, and ordered the men to row twice the distance of the other boats from the ship before he signed to Perez to depress the firing-key.
Simultaneously with a muffled report the charges burst. Without waiting for the good ship Donibristle to sink under him the operator took a flying leap over the side, hit the water with a tremendous splash, and struck out frantically, swimming as fast as the huge cork lifebelt permitted.
The Donibristle, her keel-plates rent asunder, sank rapidly, with a slight list to port. Amidst a smother of foam caused by the escaping of the confined air, she settled on the bed of the channel, with about five or six feet of her upperworks showing on the starboard, and less than one foot clear on the port side.
Above the hiss of escaping air and the turmoil of the agitated water came the voices of a dozen men shouting at once:
"The life-boat's taken under."
The gig containing Black Strogoff appeared on the scene, just as five or six men forming the life-boat's crew were scrambling over the gunwales of the boats nearest them.
"What game of fools is this?" demanded the lieutenant angrily.
"Life-boat's sunk. Pinned down by the foot of one of the davits," announced one of the men.
"Sunk like a stone, with her sides crushed like an egg-shell," added another.
"Just about as much as we could do to get clear," declared a third. "She was gone in a brace of shakes. An' where's Mr. Burgoyne?"
"Anyone seen Mr. Burgoyne?" inquired Captain Blair loudly.
"I seed 'im in the boat, sir," declared the bowman of the lost life-boat.
"So did I, sir," volunteered another seaman. "He was a-holdin' on the yoke-lines, and was goin' to tell us to – "
"He was a blamed idiot," declared Strogoff. "What did he mean by hanging on alongside when the ship was sinking?"
"She went that sudden-like," explained the bowman.
"Didn't give us no chance no-how."
"Anyone else missing?" demanded Captain Blair.
There was a pause, then half a dozen voices replied in unison:
"Yes, sir, Minalto, the quartermaster of the port watch."
"No sign of them?"
Several of the men peered into the now transparent water, for the sand disturbed by the sinking vessel had now settled. Twenty feet below the surface, pinned down by something engaging the starboard gunwale, the life-boat could be seen with fair distinctness. She was lying on her beam ends with her bows slightly lower than her stern.
"Can't see 'em, sir," replied one of the men. "P'raps they're trapped between the boat and the side of the ship."
"You might have given us more warning," said Captain Blair addressing the taciturn lieutenant. "If you had I should not have lost a promising officer and a smart seaman."
"Imbeciles, both of them," snapped Black Strogoff. "They have themselves only to blame. It is none of my affair."
"Now I come to think on it," resumed the irresponsible bowman. "I think I saw Mr. Burgoyne mixed up wi' some gear as we dipped. An' – "
Captain Blair held up his hand to enjoin silence. Having succeeded in bluffing Black Strogoff he considered it high time for the mendacious recital to terminate. He was too good an actor to risk wrecking the piece by an excess of "gagging".
