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Westerman +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +P.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +P.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +P.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +P.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +P.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +P.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.intro {text-indent: 4%; + font-size: 85%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wireless Officer, by Percy F. Westerman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wireless Officer + +Author: Percy F. Westerman + +Illustrator: W. E. Wigfull + +Release Date: October 22, 2011 [EBook #37824] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRELESS OFFICER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-cover"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-cover.jpg" ALT="Cover art" BORDER="2"> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="THE LASCARS BUNDLED THE BODIES INTO THE LIFEBOAT. <I>Page</I> 52" BORDER="2"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center"> +THE LASCARS BUNDLED THE BODIES INTO THE LIFEBOAT. <A HREF="#p52"><I>Page</I> 52</A> +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +THE WIRELESS OFFICER +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +PERCY F. WESTERMAN +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Author of "The Third Officer," <BR> +"Sea Scouts All," <BR> +&c. &c. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +Illustrated by W. E. Wigfull +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BLACKIE & SON LIMITED +<BR> +LONDON AND GLASGOW +<BR> +1922 +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3b"> +By Percy F. Westerman<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +The Bulldog Breed.<BR> +In Eastern Seas.<BR> +Standish Loses his Man.<BR> +Standish Gets his Man.<BR> +Cadet Alan Carr.<BR> +Under Fire in Spain.<BR> +Haunted Harbour.<BR> +His Unfinished Voyage.<BR> +Winged Might.<BR> +Captain Flick.<BR> +Tireless Wings.<BR> +His First Ship.<BR> +The Red Pirate.<BR> +The Call of the Sea.<BR> +Standish of the Air Police.<BR> +Sleuths of the Air.<BR> +Andy-All-Alone.<BR> +The Westow Talisman.<BR> +The White Arab.<BR> +The Buccaneers of Boya.<BR> +Rounding up the Raider.<BR> +Captain Fosdyke's Gold.<BR> +In Defiance of the Ban.<BR> +The Senior Cadet.<BR> +The Amir's Ruby.<BR> +The Secret of the Plateau.<BR> +Leslie Dexter, Cadet.<BR> +A Mystery of the Broads.<BR> +Rivals of the Reef.<BR> +Captain Starlight.<BR> +On the Wings of the Wind.<BR> +Captain Blundell's Treasure.<BR> +Unconquered Wings.<BR> +Pat Stobart in the "Golden Dawn".<BR> +Ringed by Fire.<BR> +Midshipman Raxworthy.<BR> +Chums of the "Golden Vanity".<BR> +Clipped Wings.<BR> +Rocks Ahead.<BR> +King for a Month.<BR> +The Disappearing Dhow.<BR> +The Luck of the "Golden Dawn".<BR> +The Salving of the "Fusi Yama".<BR> +Winning his Wings.<BR> +The Good Ship "Golden Effort".<BR> +East in the "Golden Gain".<BR> +The Quest of the "Golden Hope".<BR> +The Wireless Officer.<BR> +The Submarine Hunters.<BR> +The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge.<BR> +With Beatty off Jutland.<BR> +The Dispatch Riders.<BR> +The Last of the Buccaneers.<BR> +A Lively Bit of the Front.<BR> +<BR> +The Westerman Omnibus Book<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +Contents +</P> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAP.</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">Good News</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">The Eavesdropper</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">Reporting for Duty</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">The Greenhorns</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">Under Way</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">A Night of Peril</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">"Logged"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">The Passengers</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">A Quiet Trick</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">The Unheeded SOS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">The Old Man is Disturbed</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">The Code-Book</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">Crossing the Line</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">Mostyn to the Rescue</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">Unpopularity</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">Hot Work in No. 1 Hold</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">The Decoy Wireless</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">The Difference of a Dot</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">Peter's Progress</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">An Eventful River Trip</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">The End of S.S. "West Barbican"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">A Night of Horror</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">Peter takes Charge of Things</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">Tidings from the Sea</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">Riding it Out</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">Mostyn's Watch</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">Aground</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">The Island</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">Repairs and Renewals</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">The Voyage is Resumed</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">Picked up at Sea</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">The Dhow</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">A Fight to a Finish</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">Olive Deals with the Situation</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">The End of the Voyage</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap36">A Round of Surprises</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap37">How the Steelwork Arrived</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap38">The Completion of the Contract</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +Illustrations +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +The Lascars bundled the bodies into the life-boat</A> . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-096"> +The two men disappeared over the side of the ship</A> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-128"> +He began to turn the locking device, slowly and firmly</A> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-272"> +Two to one</A> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE WIRELESS OFFICER +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Good News +</H3> + +<P> +"Hurrah!" exclaimed Peter Mostyn. "Now, this <I>does</I> look like +business." +</P> + +<P> +"It does, Mr. Mostyn," agreed the postmistress. "It seems as if we are +to lose you again." +</P> + +<P> +"And about time too," added the youth, as he ripped open the long, +buff-coloured envelope bearing the words "Broughborough International +Marine Telegraph Company". +</P> + +<P> +Peter Mostyn had been "on the beach" for nearly six months. In other +words, he was out of a berth. Not that it was any fault of his that a +promising and energetic young wireless officer should be without a ship +for such a protracted period. An unprecedented slump in British +shipping—when hundreds of vessels flying the Red Ensign were laid up, +while the bulk of the world's trade was carried by the mercantile fleet +of Germany—had resulted, amongst other ills, in the wholesale +"sacking" of officers and men, who to a great extent had been the means +of warding off the grim spectre of starvation during those black years +of the World War. +</P> + +<P> +Five times a week for over four months Peter Mostyn had ridden into +Trentham Regis village in the hope of securing the long-expected +missive giving him an appointment to another ship. +</P> + +<P> +And now the anxiously awaited communication had arrived. The +postmistress, a good, kindly soul to whom the affairs of every man, +woman, and child in the Trentham Regis postal area were open secrets, +was almost as excited as the recipient, when she handed the envelope +over the counter between the piles of groceries that comprised the +commercial side of the shop. +</P> + +<P> +For a brief instant Peter was assailed by the dread that the envelope +would contain a stereotyped announcement to the effect that his +application was still under consideration; then a look of undisguised +relief and gratification overspread his tanned features. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mrs. Young!" he exclaimed; "I'm off in three days' time. Where? +I hardly know, but I rather fancy it's East Africa. Good evening." +</P> + +<P> +Leaving the postmistress to spread the news amongst the good folk of +Trentham Regis—a feat that she would certainly accomplish to her +unbounded satisfaction before the post office closed for the +night—Peter mounted his motor-bicycle and rode after the fashion of +the long departed Jehu, the son of Nimshi, leaving behind him a long +trail of chalky dust in the still evening air. Short of wireless it +was doubtful whether the good news could have reached "The Pines" in +less time, for within the space of five and a half minutes Peter had +covered the three miles that separated his home from Trentham Regis. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Mater!" he exclaimed, bursting into the house like a young +typhoon. "Where are you? Ah, there you are! I've got it!" +</P> + +<P> +There was no need for Mrs. Mostyn to ask for further enlightenment upon +the cryptic "it". She guessed the news at once. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad, Peter!" she exclaimed. "What ship this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>West Barbican</I>, Mater. I fancy she's one of the Blue Crescent +Line. If so, it's East Africa and possibly India, this trip. 'Tany +rate, I'm to join her before noon on Thursday. Where's the Pater?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not back from town yet. There was a board meeting on this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, I remember. About the Kilba Protectorate contract. I suppose +he'll return by the 8.50.... By Jove! What a topping stunt! Fancy +getting a ship again after all this time. Of course, Mother, it was +nice to be home again, but, after all, it's a jolly long time to be +kicking one's heels on the beach, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mostyn agreed, but solely upon her son's account. She was in no +hurry to send her boy to sea again, but she realized that it was for +his good that he should once more adventure upon the ocean. Coming of +a seafaring family that for generations past had sent its sons down to +the sea in ships—often never to return—she realized more than a good +many mothers what was meant by the call of the great waters. She had +drunk deeply of the cup of sorrow when the S.S. <I>Donibristle</I>, of which +Peter was wireless officer, had been reported overdue and missing, and +was afterwards given out by Lloyd's as a total loss. And in due course +Peter had returned home, modestly making light of his hairbreadth +adventures, his chief complaint being that the Broughborough +International Marine Telegraph Company had not thought fit to appoint +him to a ship belonging to the same fleet as did the S.S. <I>Donibristle</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Peter's father, John Mostyn, was a retired Engineer Captain, R.N., who, +having severed his connection with the navy at the conclusion of the +Great War, had become one of the managing directors of the Brocklington +Ironworks Company. +</P> + +<P> +For a while the affairs of the newly formed company had flourished. +Then came the inevitable slump. Labour troubles and foreign +competition added to the difficulties of the firm. The reserve capital +dwindled until there were barely sufficient funds to meet the weekly +wages bill. Things looked black—decidedly so; but never once did the +gloomy outlook daunt the cheery optimism of retired Engineer Captain +John Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +When the fortunes of the Brocklington Ironworks Company seemed at their +lowest ebb, the firm had an invitation to tender for a big contract for +the recently formed Kilba Protectorate. Comprising a vast extent of +territory on the East Coast of Africa, Kilba was making a bold bid for +prosperity under British rule. Amongst other schemes for the +development of the country was the proposed construction of a railway +linking up the coast with the rich mineral lands of the interior. One +of the natural difficulties in the way of the railroad was the +Kilembonga Gorge, where the river of that name flows with great +impetuosity between sheer walls of rock rising two hundred feet above +the turgid stream. The bed of the river was of shifting sand, so that, +even if the difficulty of the current could be overcome, there remained +the question of how to build solid piers on such a doubtful foundation. +Finally it was decided to throw a cantilever bridge across the chasm. +</P> + +<P> +Accordingly, the Kilba Protectorate Government asked tenders for the +construction of the necessary steelwork, including delivery upon the +site. British, American, Italian, Japanese, and German firms were +invited to contract, although it was difficult to see why the Kilba +Government should have asked these last to quote a price. It was not +until later that a reason was forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +Among the British firms to tender was the Brocklington Ironworks +Company, and it was then that Captain Mostyn seized his opportunity. +He foresaw that a successful carrying out of the contract would be the +turning-point of the firm's fortunes—that the kudos derived from that +prosperous enterprise would give the Brocklington Ironworks Company a +world-wide advertisement and place them at the forefront of engineering +contracting firms. +</P> + +<P> +Upon putting the circumstances of the case before his +brother-directors, Captain Mostyn carried his point. He told them that +the immediate financial results of the contract would be small—in +fact, almost insignificant—but once having beaten all rivals, British +and foreign, the future success of the company was assured. +</P> + +<P> +"Capital?" echoed Captain Mostyn, in answer to a question from one of +his fellow-directors. "Capital? We can find the capital. It will be +a tight squeeze, a terribly tight squeeze, but we'll do it with a +slight margin to spare. Let me have a talk with the men, and I'll +warrant that, if they have the good sense I credit them with, we'll +pull the thing off successfully." +</P> + +<P> +Without delay the managing director went down to Brocklington, where he +had what he called a straight talk with the firm's employees. He told +them straight that if their whole-hearted co-operation were not +forthcoming the works would have to close down, and that, with the +present state of unemployment, it would be difficult, almost +impossible, for the six hundred hands to find work elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm asking you to make sacrifices," he went on. "For the present +neither the directors nor the shareholders are making money, and +naturally we cannot run this business as a charity concern. I +therefore propose a general reduction of wages in order for us to quote +competitive prices, so that we may secure the contract and provide +constant work for all. I am also authorized by the board of directors +to state that fifty per cent of the profits of the contract—mind you +that amount will be comparatively small—will be apportioned as a bonus +to the workpeople." +</P> + +<P> +Before Captain Mostyn left Brocklington the matter was clinched, as far +as the hands were concerned. There was a unanimous decision on the +part of the workpeople to back up the firm, and once this step was +decided upon Captain Mostyn knew that the greatest obstacle was +removed, and that British grit and determination on the part of the +employees would see the business through. +</P> + +<P> +The Brocklington Ironworks Company sent in their tender and waited +hopefully. Three months later came the news that they had secured the +contract, which had been quoted at £50,500. +</P> + +<P> +It was not the lowest tender. A couple of German firms were below this +estimate, owing to the low value of the mark. One, the Augsburg +Manufacturing Company, tendered at £30,000, while the Pfieldorf Company +of Chemnitz offered to supply and deliver the material for a trifle +over £20,000. The rest of the competing firms tendered considerably +higher than the Brocklington Ironworks Company. +</P> + +<P> +In the conditions of contract several "stiff" clauses had been +inserted. The Kilba Protectorate Government required the completion of +the work, including delivery, by the end of March; failing which, a +heavy penalty was to be inflicted. All the steelwork was to be +examined by competent inspectors, both in England and on the site, and +any defective material was to be replaced at the contractors' expense +plus a fine equal to the value of the replaced work. +</P> + +<P> +Gallantly the employees of the Brocklington Ironworks Company rose to +the occasion. Work continued at high pressure in spite of sundry +difficulties. When the supply of coal ran short, the smelting furnaces +were fed with wood. When the railway companies dallied over the +delivery of iron-ore, a fleet of motor lorries brought the stuff direct +from the pits. Once, a series of unexplained explosions destroyed a +part of the rolling mills, but within a week the machinery was in +working order again, and by the end of October the whole of the +steelwork was ready for the Government inspectors. +</P> + +<P> +It was to receive the report of the latter that Captain Mostyn had gone +to town. At 8.50 Peter met his father at Trentham Regis station. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Pater," exclaimed Peter, as his sire alighted, "what have you +been doing—whitewashing?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn glanced at his shoulder. His coat was speckled with +white dust. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that," he replied carelessly. "I suppose it was when some fellow +working above the board-room fell through the ceiling. He wasn't hurt, +only a bit scared. I'll tell you all about it later. What's more to +the point, Peter, the steelwork's passed the test with flying colours, +and we're shipping it on Saturday on the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"My new ship," announced Peter. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Eavesdropper +</H3> + +<P> +Ludwig Schoeffer, London agent for the Pfieldorf Company of Chemnitz, +was feeling at the very top of his form. He was carrying out his +instructions in a manner that bid fair to be highly satisfactory both +to his employers and himself, and unless untoward events disturbed the +even tenor of his investigations he stood to win the sum of two hundred +pounds before the day was out. +</P> + +<P> +The Pfieldorf Company were both surprised and angry when the news came +that their tender for work for the Kilba Protectorate had been "turned +down". Their Teutonic mentality could not account for the fact that a +tender considerably higher than theirs had been accepted. The war was +over: why, then, should a good, old German firm be slighted and +practically debarred from securing a contract that would advance the +commercial prestige of the Fatherland? +</P> + +<P> +At an extraordinary meeting of the directors Herr Bohme, chairman of +the company, proposed a somewhat startling scheme. He suggested that +the steelwork should be put in hand immediately, according to the +specification of the Kilba Protectorate Government. In any case, the +bridge, being of a useful design, would find a ready purchaser in one +of the South American republics, or perhaps in certain parts of Africa +where there was no British prejudice against German goods. The mere +fact that they were picking another man's brains by copying the +Protectorate's civil engineer's designs hardly entered into Herr +Bohme's calculations. +</P> + +<P> +"And now I come to an important proposition," continued the chairman. +"It is for us to do our best to prevent this British Brocklington +Ironworks Company from carrying out their contract. Somehow—how, I do +not know yet—somehow that firm must be compelled to fail in their +undertaking. At the critical juncture the Kilba Protectorate will be +without their most important bridge, and we can well imagine the effect +that will have upon the country. That is where we step in. We can +offer a similar structure, complete, and in every way conformable to +specification, for the sum of twenty million marks, which is ten +thousand pounds more than our original tender, free on board at +Hamburg. To save the situation the Protectorate Government will jump +at our offer." +</P> + +<P> +"But how can we prevent——?" began one of the directors. +</P> + +<P> +Von Bohme winked ponderously. +</P> + +<P> +"There are ways and means, von Kessler," he interrupted. "These +English fondly imagine that, now the war is over, there is no need for +our admirable secret service. As you know, that organization still +exists most healthily; only, instead of being the Imperial, it is now +the German Commercial Secret Service." +</P> + +<P> +Herr von Bohme had occasion to be vindictive towards everyone and +everything British. A violent Junker, he had supported the ex-Kaiser's +war policy with all his might and main, never doubting, until it was +too late, of the rapid and triumphant success of the German arms. At +the Armistice he had been compelled to surrender eight of his largest +merchant vessels to the Allies. That practically smashed up the +shipping business of which Herr Bohme was managing director. There +remained the Pfieldorf Company, the activities of which bid fair to +more than recoup the directors and shareholders for the loss of their +mercantile marine. But von Bohme never forgot. Behind his keen +business capabilities lurked the spirit of vindictiveness towards the +Power that had taken so large a part in the smashing of the German +Empire. +</P> + +<P> +Without loss of time von Bohme telegraphed to Ludwig Schoeffer, and +twenty-four hours later Ludwig presented himself at von Bohme's house +in the Platz Alice at Chemnitz. +</P> + +<P> +Schoeffer, although only twenty-seven years of age, had had an +adventurous career. He was one of the very few German spies in England +who had eluded the skilfully drawn toils of Sir Basil Thomson. At the +outbreak of hostilities the spy was actually holding a British +Admiralty position in Whitehall, and during the next two years he was +busily serving two rival Governments at Portsmouth, Chatham, and +Rosyth. At the latter place a very simple slip nearly "gave him away", +and he quickly transferred his activities to the United States. There +he specialized in "deferred action bombs"; ingenious contrivances +detonated electrically by means of clockwork. Many a good ship owed +her destruction to Ludwig Schoeffer's cunning; and, even after the +cessation of hostilities, he remained in New York with the object of +wrecking the ex-German vessels surrendered under the terms of the +Armistice. But at last the spy was caught through the 'cuteness of a +Hoboken policeman. Arrested, he was tried, found guilty, and sent for +a life-sentence to Sing Sing. Three weeks later he created a record by +breaking out of that grim penitentiary, and succeeded in making his way +back to Germany, via San Francisco, Sydney, and Colombo. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing about Ludwig Schoeffer's appearance to betray his +nationality. He might, and frequently did, pass for an Englishman, +while his command of English defied detection. He was of medium height +and build, dark-haired and sallow-featured. There was nothing of +Teutonic stolidity about his movements. On the other hand, he walked +with the elasticity and easy carriage of an Anglo-Saxon athlete. +</P> + +<P> +Von Bohme received his visitor in his study, drew a thick curtain over +the door, and came to the point at once. +</P> + +<P> +"I want you to proceed to England, Schoeffer," he began. "Usual +terms—payment by results with immediate advance to meet current +expenses. You know Brocklington?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was there in May and June, 1915, Herr Bohme." +</P> + +<P> +"Good; but I fancy you don't know the Brocklington Ironworks." +</P> + +<P> +The spy considered a few moments. To admit that he did not might be a +confession of lack of local knowledge. To say that he did when he was +not sure of the fact was to lay himself open to being discredited. +Then he considered that perhaps his employer was trying to catch him +out. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw no ironworks there," he said at length. +</P> + +<P> +Von Bohme grunted in satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"For the very good reason that they came only into existence since the +war. Now, read this and commit the salient facts to memory." +</P> + +<P> +Von Bohme handed his caller a dossier containing the papers dealing +with the Kilba Protectorate contract. There were eleven pages of +closely lined typescript with marginal notes in von Bohme's own +handwriting. +</P> + +<P> +"You've grasped the important points? Good! Now, this is your task. +Go to Brocklington, find out and report to me on the progress of the +work. When necessary, shadow the directors of the Company in London. +Their offices are in Chilbolton Row, off St. Mary Axe. Use every means +at your disposal to hinder the work, since at all costs that steelwork +must not arrive at Kilba. You understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Thirty-six hours later Ludwig Schoeffer arrived at Brocklington. In +the guise of a mechanic he presented himself at the works foreman's +office, having previously taken the precaution of registering under the +name of James Sylvester at the local Labour Exchange. +</P> + +<P> +Already the contract was well in hand. Additional workmen were being +taken on, and the mere fact that Jim Sylvester was a skilled riveter +recommended by the local Exchange enabled the secret service agent to +obtain employment forthwith. +</P> + +<P> +That was all very well as far as it went, but the fact that he was +actually at the works afforded Ludwig very few opportunities of getting +in touch with the brains of the concern. So, after two futile attempts +to hinder the work, Jim Sylvester obtained his discharge and +disappeared from the neighbourhood. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the spy had got to know the managing director and most of +the principals by sight. His next step was to try to probe the secrets +of the head office in Chilbolton Row. +</P> + +<P> +Judicious inquiries resulted in the information that the Brocklington +Ironworks Company's city premises were the ground floor of a large, +somewhat dingy building. The second and third floors were occupied by +shipping agents; the first floor was at present unoccupied. +</P> + +<P> +Three days later Ludwig Schoeffer was in possession of the hitherto +vacant rooms immediately over the Brocklington Ironworks Company's +offices, but not as Ludwig Schoeffer. A card affixed to the door +announced to anyone who had occasion to visit the upstairs offices that +Mr. Josiah Sherringham, London agent for Messrs. Hoogenveen, bulb +growers, of Haarlem, would be in attendance daily from ten to four. +Since Messrs Hoogenveen, had no material existence, it was extremely +unlikely that clients would call upon Mr. Josiah Sherringham. Nor did +the tenant of the first floor want any. Usually the door was locked, +generally from the outside, and inside whenever the directors of the +Brocklington Ironworks Company held converse in the room below. +</P> + +<P> +Amongst Mr. Josiah Sherringham's office furniture was a dictaphone, the +mouthpiece of which was extended by means of a length of india-rubber +tube and rested above a hole in the ceiling of the room below. Some +years previously the premises had been renovated and electric light +installed in place of gas, but the huge ornamental rose from which a +chandelier once depended formed a convenient camouflage for the +eavesdropper's operations. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever the directors of Brocklington Ironworks Company held a board +meeting, Ludwig Schoeffer was an unseen listener. Being rather +particular about his appearance the spy invariably donned a suit of +workmen's overalls, lest his clothes should show signs of having come +in contact with the dusty floor. Fortnightly, transcribed records of +the British firm's progress were transmitted to the Platz Alice at +Chemnitz. +</P> + +<P> +At length came the momentous meeting at which Captain Mostyn was to +announce the result of the Kilba Protectorate Government's inspector's +preliminary tests of the steelwork; and also the arrangements made for +the shipment of the material to its destination. +</P> + +<P> +The dictaphone was purring softly. Ludwig, on his hands and knees, had +prized up some floor-boards and was listening to the report. In his +eagerness he could not wait for the wax cylinders to tell him what was +transpiring. +</P> + +<P> +At a critical moment the dictaphone ceased functioning. The +eavesdropper half rose to attend to the instrument. His knees slipped +on the narrow joists, and the next instant, amidst a rending of laths +and plaster, he landed on his back upon the table around which were +seated the directors of the Brocklington Ironworks Company. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Reporting for Duty +</H3> + +<P> +"Now, Pater, tell me how you got on in town," prompted Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Famously! The inspector's report laid special emphasis upon the +excellence of the castings, and I've no doubt that the final tests will +be equally successful. We also secured very reasonable freightage. +The <I>West Barbican</I> is not a fast vessel—fifteen knots is, I believe, +her limit—but she will be able to deliver the goods well in advance of +the time specified. It is certainly remarkable, Peter, that you should +have been appointed to that same craft." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm jolly glad," replied Peter. "It's about time I went afloat again. +It looks as if I'm giving this winter a miss, eh? By the by, didn't +you say something about a fellow tumbling through the ceiling?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it was very funny," he replied. "We were all deep in business +when there was a jolly old crash, and before we realized it there was a +man—a workman—spread-eagled on the table. Winterton and Forsyth +helped him up and asked if he were hurt. ''Urt?' he remarked bitterly. +'Not 'arf.' But he was able to walk without assistance. It seems that +he was engaged in overhauling the electric-light fittings in the office +over ours, and something carried away and let him down. It might have +been worse.... Have you your kit ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Almost," was the rejoinder. "I'll have to go up to town on Wednesday, +because my tropical outfit wants renewing. So we're to run round to +Brocklington?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Captain Mostyn. "We've made arrangements for the +steelwork to be shipped from there. Saves a lot of trouble sending it +to East India Docks. We gain on the estimate that way, although, of +course, we are practically chartering the <I>West Barbican</I> for two or +three days." +</P> + +<P> +At ten on the following Thursday Peter Mostyn boarded the <I>West +Barbican</I>. The ship was of about 7000 tons, single funnelled, and with +two stumpy masts with telescopic topmasts and a sheaf of derricks to +each. She was still coaling and her decks were deep in grimy dust. +With the exception of the officers the ship was manned by lascars—a +novelty so far as Peter was concerned. +</P> + +<P> +A burly, jovial-featured man in a grimy uniform, and wearing a muffler +under the turned-up collar of his tunic, greeted Mostyn as he stepped +off the gangplank. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, you're our Sparks, aren't you?" inquired the man. "My name's +Preston when it's not Salthorse. Just now it ought to be Coaldust. +I'll take you along to see the Old Man, and, when he's done with you, +come to me for the keys of the wireless cabin. I'm Acting Chief." +</P> + +<P> +Picking his way between coal-bags, dodging knots of bizarrely clad +lascars, who with shrill cries dragged the sacks of fuel to the bunker +shoots, Peter followed the Acting Chief Officer to the for'ard end of +the boat-deck, where the skipper of the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I> had his +cabin. Over the jalousied door was a brass plate with the word +"Captain"; just below the plate was a card on which appeared, in bold +and rather straggling handwriting, the intimation: "Don't knock—come +in." +</P> + +<P> +"Carry on, old son," urged Preston—and left Peter to his own devices. +</P> + +<P> +For a brief instant Peter hesitated. Then, force of habit gaining the +ascendancy, he knocked discreetly upon the white-enamelled door. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you hanging on to the slack for?" demanded a bull voice. +"Where are your blessed deadlights? Can't you read?" +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer opened the door and stepped briskly into the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting in an arm-chair in front of a table littered with books and +papers was a short, thick-set, bearded man. He was in his +shirt-sleeves; a salt-stained uniform cap was perched on the back of +his head, leaving exposed a wide, vein-traced forehead bordered on +either side by closely cropped grey hair. His complexion was a dusky +red, while his choleric blue eyes peered beneath a pair of beetling +bushy eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +This was Mostyn's first impression of Captain Antonius Bullock, master +of the good ship <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt his bark is worse than his bite," soliloquized Peter, then, +aloud, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to report for duty, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Another time you come into my cabin do as you're told," growled the +Old Man. "Can't waste my breath telling people to come in—may want it +badly some day. Where's your permanent discharge book?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn had the article ready to hand—one of those thin, blue-covered +booklets which, according to Board of Trade Regulations, must be in the +possession of every officer and man of the British Mercantile Marine. +It is his passport through life as long as he remains under the Red +Ensign, and corresponds with the parchment certificate of the Royal +Navy. +</P> + +<P> +"'Report of character: for ability, very good; for general conduct, +very good'," read the Old Man aloud. "Let's hope that'll continue. +Hello! what's this: last ship the <I>Donibristle</I>. I hope I haven't +shipped a Jonah." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not too, sir," agreed Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Carry on, then," was the brief rejoinder, and the introductory +interview terminated. +</P> + +<P> +Truth to tell, Captain Antonius Bullock was not particularly fond of +wireless operators. This antipathy was not due to the individual but +to the system. Although wireless officers came under the captain's +orders for disciplinary purposes, they were governed by the rules and +regulations of the wireless company who employed them. Consequently it +was possible, and often probable, that the Old Man might issue an order +to the radio staff that ran directly counter to the wireless +regulations; and, if the skipper were short-tempered and disinclined to +listen to explanations, matters would come to a climax by the wireless +officer flatly but firmly declining to carry out the Old Man's behests. +</P> + +<P> +On the previous voyage such an incident had actually occurred. Captain +Bullock had given an impossible order—impossible according to the +wireless operator's reading of the regulations. The Old Man lost his +temper and told the operator to work double watches for the rest of the +voyage; the latter retaliated by "logging" the skipper. This drastic +step rather frightened the choleric Bullock, especially when, on +further consideration, he found that he was in the wrong. Before the +<I>West Barbican</I> arrived in London River, skipper and wireless operator +had a private and amicable conversation, with the result that the +latter expunged the offending record from the log. But the matter +still rankled in Captain Antonius Bullock's broad bosom, and, since he +could not consign the system to perdition, he vented his resentment +upon the wireless officers under his command. +</P> + +<P> +There was no denying Captain Bullock's qualifications as a seaman. He +was courageous, resourceful, skilful, and, withal, cautious. He had +been at sea for more than thirty-five years, having served his +apprenticeship in a square-rigged ship and worked his way up through +that roughest of rough schools—the South American cattle-boats—to his +present responsible position of senior captain of the Blue Crescent +Line. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the captain's cabin Peter was met by a tall, slim Hindustani +wearing a blue dungaree suit, a pair of straw-plaited shoes, and a red +"pill-box" hat. +</P> + +<P> +With Oriental obeisance, yet not without a certain display of dignity, +the "boy" salaamed. +</P> + +<P> +"Me Mahmed, sahib. Me you boy," he announced. +</P> + +<P> +Peter regarded his new acquaintance critically. Mahmed was a Madrasi +of about twenty years of age, with features handsome in an Oriental +way. In spite of his weird attire—for during coaling operations the +native crew had discarded their smart but serviceable uniforms—there +was something about the youth that impressed his new master favourably. +</P> + +<P> +"Want <I>char</I>, sahib?" +</P> + +<P> +The word "char" was not a stranger to Peter Mostyn. Of Eastern +derivation, and meaning "tea", it has been adopted by Britons in all +quarters of the globe; and even in Flanders and the north of France +peasants have learned the word. +</P> + +<P> +Receiving an affirmative reply, Mahmed glided noiselessly away, while +Peter set out to find the Acting Chief Officer and obtain the keys of +the wireless room. +</P> + +<P> +"So the Old Man hasn't chawed you up?" remarked Preston, with a broad +grin. "He's not a bad old lad when you know him. What's your name?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter enlightened him. +</P> + +<P> +"Dash it all!" exclaimed the Acting Chief. "I've heard of you, young +fellah-me-lad! Weren't you in that <I>Donibristle</I> stunt? We've shipped +a <I>pukka</I> hero this trip." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know about that," protested Peter. "The Old Man has just told +me I'm a Jonah." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Greenhorns +</H3> + +<P> +Armed with a bunch of keys, Peter made his way up several ladders until +he gained the box-like structure bearing a brass plate inscribed +"Wireless Cabin". +</P> + +<P> +The erection was of solid construction, lighted by six brass-rimmed +scuttles. The door, opening aft, was affording support to a couple of +pale-faced, weedy-looking youths, who, on seeing Mostyn appear, made no +attempt to shift their position, not even to the extent of removing +their hands from their pockets. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer realized at once who these lads were. Already he +had had his suspicions on the point. The fact that he had received no +intimation of the presence of a junior wireless operator rather +prepared him for the discovery. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing here?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +The taller of the two boys glanced at his companion as if urging him to +reply. Receiving no encouragement from that direction he gazed +vacantly into space. +</P> + +<P> +"Bloke dahn there told us to 'ang on 'ere," he announced, in the +sing-song voice of a city-bred, elementary schoolboy. +</P> + +<P> +"We're Watchers," added his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, are you?" rejoined Peter. "Then please to remember that when you +are spoken to by an officer you will address him as 'sir'." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn was not snobbish—far from it, but the attitude and tone of the +pair went against the grain. It was the first time that he had found +himself "up against" the genus Watcher, and the impression served to +support the adverse reports he had heard of the general incompetence +and uselessness of the class. +</P> + +<P> +"Watchers" were the outcome of an ill-advised step on the part of +shipowners towards economy. A second-class ship, such as the <I>West +Barbican</I>, might carry either two trained and Government-certificated +operators—men who were qualified in both the practical and technical +side of radiography—or she might carry one operator and two Watchers. +</P> + +<P> +The latter were simply and solely unskilled youths who were sent on +board ship to "listen-in" for wireless messages. They took turns in +putting on the telephones and waiting for wireless calls. All they +could do—or were expected to do—was to recognize two call signals: +the SOS and TTT, the latter an urgent general signal of lesser +importance than the well-known call for aid. To the Watchers the Morse +Code was a sealed book. Their occupation was of a blind-alley nature. +They could hardly hope to qualify as operators, lacking the aptitude, +intelligence, and opportunities for gaining their wireless ticket. In +short, they were a cheap product whereby their employers sought to cut +down expenses by dispensing with one of two wireless officers, +regardless of the grave risk that an error on the part of these +half-baked dabblers in radiography might endanger the ship. +</P> + +<P> +As a class, too, they were resented by the wireless staff proper. Not +only would the employment of Watchers tend to diminish the numbers of +<I>pukka</I> wireless officers serving afloat; but the wireless officer on a +ship carrying Watchers would be always on duty although not actually in +the cabin. Instead of taking "tricks" with his "opposite number" he +would be liable to be summoned by the Watchers on duty at any hour of +the day or night, simply because his assistant could not, and would not +be allowed to, receive or send out messages. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this your first voyage?" asked Peter, addressing the taller Watcher. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, what?" demanded Mostyn sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"That's better," continued Peter, as he unlocked the door, the two lads +having summoned up enough physical energy to stand aside. "What's your +name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Partridge,"—pause—"sir." +</P> + +<P> +"And yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plover, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Weird birds," soliloquized Mostyn; "but perhaps they'll lick into +shape." +</P> + +<P> +His first impression of the interior of the cabin was not a good one. +The <I>West Barbican</I> had been laid up for nearly four months, and, +although her late Sparks had conscientiously carried out his written +instructions as to the precautions to be taken when "packing up", the +prolonged period of idleness had not improved the appearance of the +apparatus. In spite of a liberal coating of vaseline the brasswork was +mottled with verdigris; moisture covered the ebonite and vulcanite +keys; the roof had been leaking, the course of the water being +indicated by a trail of iron rust upon the white paint. +</P> + +<P> +Dust covered everything, while the absence of fresh air, owing to the +scuttles having been secured for months, was distressingly noticeable. +</P> + +<P> +"Phew! What a reek!" exclaimed Peter, stepping backwards into the open +and nearly colliding with the impassive Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +"Char, sahib." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn gulped down the hot beverage, and literally girded up his loins +for direct action. +</P> + +<P> +"Nip below," he ordered, addressing the still torpid Partridge. "Get +hold of a bucket of hot water, a squeegee, and some swabs. Look +lively, Plover; get busy with those scuttles. Open all of them. +Scuttles, man; those round glass windows, if you like." +</P> + +<P> +Watcher Plover tackled his allotted task with a zest that rather +surprised his superior officer, but it was not until five minutes later +that Peter found the Watcher trying to unbolt the brass rims instead of +unthreading the locking screw. +</P> + +<P> +"Belay there," exclaimed Mostyn. "Don't take the whole of the cabin +down. Let me show——" +</P> + +<P> +His words were interrupted by a metallic clatter followed by sounds of +falling water. Watcher Partridge's hob-nailed boots had slipped on the +brass treads of the ladder, and he had finished up ingloriously upon +the deck, sprawling upon his back in a puddle of coal-grimed water. +</P> + +<P> +While the unlucky Partridge was making a prolonged change and refit, +Mostyn with his other assistant tackled the demon dirt in his lair. +Not until the dust was removed and the paint-work and floor well +scrubbed and dried did Peter begin to overhaul the "set". +</P> + +<P> +The dull daylight faded and gave place to night, but still the +indefatigable wireless operator carried on, until the bell summoning +the officers to dinner warned him that it was time to knock off. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so bad," he conceded modestly, as he surveyed the array of +glittering brasswork and polished vulcanite. "I'll leave the actual +tuning up and testing till to-morrow. Buzz off, you fellows. You +won't be wanted until two bells in the forenoon watch." +</P> + +<P> +Locking the door, Mostyn made his way to his own quarters. His cabin +was of the usual double-berth type, one bunk being superimposed +immediately above the other. In this instance he was the sole occupant +of the cabin, and rather grimly he commented upon the saying that it's +an ill wind that blows nobody any good. Had he not been called upon to +endure Messrs. Partridge and Plover, he would have had to the share +cramped quarters with another wireless officer. +</P> + +<P> +In the adjoining cabins the jaded occupants were busily engaged in +removing the traces left by their arduous labours. The coaling +operation had been completed. The bunkers had been trimmed, decks +washed down, and the hideous but necessary coaling-screens stowed away. +Yet the ship reeked of coal-dust. The alleyways seemed stiff with it. +It penetrated even into the locked and carefully curtained cabins and +saloons. +</P> + +<P> +On board the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I> there was nothing in the way of +formal introduction. A newly joined officer simply "blew in" and made +himself at home. When off duty the fellows were more like a pack of +jolly schoolboys than men on whose shoulders rested a tremendous weight +of responsibility. They accepted a newcomer as one of themselves, and, +unless he were an out-and-out bounder, soon set him entirely at his +ease. +</P> + +<P> +In vain Peter scanned the features of his new shipmates in the hope of +recognizing a familiar face. For the most part the officers had been +on board for lengthy periods, the interval of idleness notwithstanding. +They were a conservative crowd in the Blue Crescent Line, and, since +Mostyn had served on vessels plying between Vancouver, Japan, and +China, he was not surprised, although disappointed, to find that his +hopes were not realized. +</P> + +<P> +"Have we got our orders yet?" inquired the Chief Engineer, addressing +the Acting Chief Officer, who, in the absence of the skipper, was +sitting at the head of the long table. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Preston. "We're off to a place called Brocklington, on +the East Coast, to pick up the bulk of our cargo—steelwork, worse +luck. Next to iron ore I know of nothing worse. It'll make the old +hooker roll like a barrel. After that we return to Gravesend on +Monday, pick up our passengers, and then away down Channel. Let's hope +we don't see London River again until shipping looks up considerably. +I've had enough of kicking my heels on the beach, and I guess you have +too. Once we go East the owners aren't likely to send us home in +ballast." +</P> + +<P> +"Dull times these, especially after the war," remarked Anstey, the +Third Officer. "Even those pirate stunts in the Atlantic and Pacific +are a wash-out." +</P> + +<P> +"Which reminds me," added Preston, indicating the modest Mostyn. "Our +Sparks here was in the <I>Donibristle</I> when that Porfirio blighter +collared her. For first-hand information apply to our young friend +here." +</P> + +<P> +So Peter had to relate briefly the hazardous adventures of the crew of +his former ship, after they had been taken into captivity by the +swashbuckling pirate Ramon Porfirio. Before the evening was over he +felt as if he had known his new messmates for ages. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Under Way +</H3> + +<P> +Mostyn awoke soon after daybreak, or rather was aroused by the +appearance of Mahmed with a cup of <I>char</I> in one hand and a copper jug +full of hot water in the other. +</P> + +<P> +It was a novel experience for Peter to watch the deft movements of his +servant, who seemed to possess an uncanny knowledge of where his +master's personal belongings were stowed. Mostyn's safety-razor, +strop, shaving-pot, and soap were placed ready for use; his boots were +shining with unusual brilliancy, even in the comparatively feeble rays +of the electric lamp. His clothes, folded and pressed, were placed +ready to put on. How and when Mahmed had contrived to make these +preparations without disturbing his master rather puzzled the Wireless +Officer, for he considered himself a light sleeper. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast was more or less a scrambled affair, many of the officers +having to gulp down a cup of hot tea and hurry off to their appointed +tasks, for the <I>West Barbican</I> was sailing at noon, and there were +multitudinous duties to be seen to before the ship was actually under +way. +</P> + +<P> +Directly after breakfast Peter hastened to the wireless cabin in order +to put in an hour's uninterrupted work before the appearance of his two +inefficient assistants. Not that they would have worried him by asking +questions, intelligent or otherwise. It was their wooden-faced +passivity that Peter found disturbing. He wondered by what manner of +means such a quaint pair of birds was taken into the Company's service. +</P> + +<P> +At four bells—ten o'clock—Mostyn had got his set into working order, +and a quarter of an hour later the wireless inspector came on board to +receive the radio-officer's report, and to satisfy himself that the +installation was in every way efficient. +</P> + +<P> +"I can give your little outfit a clean bill of health pretty quickly, +Mr. Mostyn," remarked the inspector. "Evidently your predecessor left +you very little to do. Once you've broken in your two Watchers you +ought to have a very soft time." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so," rejoined Peter guardedly, but he had grave doubts on the +subject. Not that he wanted a "very soft time"—he was far too +energetic for that—but because he felt convinced that his assistants +were not cut out for the job. +</P> + +<P> +At length a blast on the siren announced that the <I>West Barbican</I> was +about to leave the dock. Peter left the cabin to watch the now +familiar yet engrossing scene, familiar save for the fact that for the +first time he had shipped with a crew of lascars. It was a strange +sight to see the natives on the fo'c'sle, carrying out orders under the +<I>serang</I>, and to watch a barefooted lascar go aloft, gripping the +shrouds with hands and toes with equal facility. +</P> + +<P> +Under the gentle yet firm persuasion of a couple of fussy tugs the +<I>West Barbican</I> renewed her acquaintance with London River. There were +no demonstrations at her departure. None of the officers had any +relations or friends to wish them God-speed from the shore, and, since +the passengers had not yet embarked, the usual display of farewells was +not in evidence. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until the ship entered Sea Reach that Peter called his +assistants. +</P> + +<P> +"You, Partridge, will take on now," he said. "Plover, it's your watch +below. You'd better see that you get some sleep. Now, you know your +duties, Partridge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o; carry on!" +</P> + +<P> +Partridge sat down and clipped on the telephones. Peter left him, but +promised himself to visit the cabin pretty frequently, to see that the +Watcher was watching. Meanwhile he had plenty to do in the clerical +line, filling up forms and making reports upon various technical +matters. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Mostyn returned to the wireless-room. He was not +surprised to find that Master Partridge was lying on the floor, having +previously "mustered his bag" with the utmost impartiality. Watcher +No. 1 was down and out. +</P> + +<P> +"The poor bounder can't help being sea-sick, but he ought to have been +a little more considerate," soliloquized Mostyn, after he had told the +unhappy Watcher to clear out and turn in. In fact, Partridge was so +bad that Peter had to assist him down the ladder until he handed him +over to the care of a lascar. +</P> + +<P> +Although the ship had not yet passed the Nore she was rolling +considerably, for there was a fresh wind on the starboard beam. +Evidently she was doing her best to live up to her reputation. But +Peter made light of the motion. With the telephones clipped to his +head he sat in the open doorway of his "dog-box", watching the +ever-changing seascape so far as a couple of boats in davits permitted. +</P> + +<P> +When the hour arrived for Watcher Plover to take over the watch, that +individual was not forthcoming. Peter waited a full ten minutes and +then told a <I>seedee-boy</I> to warn the absentee. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the Indian messenger returned with a faint trace of a smile +on his olivine features. +</P> + +<P> +"No go, sahib," he announced. "He ill—very sick like to die." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn shrugged his shoulders and "carried on". Fortunately he had had +a fairly good night's rest. The treble trick he could endure with +equanimity, buoyed up by the hope that the indisposition of his two +inefficient assistants would be of short duration, especially as the +<I>West Barbican</I> was due to berth in Brocklington Dock by six the next +morning. +</P> + +<P> +Before long the weather began to get decidedly dirty. The haze that +had been hanging over the coast had vanished, but to the east'ard banks +of ragged-edged indigo-coloured clouds betokened a hard blow before +very long. The wind, too, had backed from sou'-sou'-east to +nor'-nor'-east, and was rapidly increasing in force. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>West Barbican</I> was not belying her reputation for rolling. In the +wireless cabin, between forty and fifty feet above the sea, everything +of a movable nature was slithering to and fro with each long-drawn +oscillation of the ship. More than once Peter had to grip the table to +prevent his chair sliding bodily across the deck. The wind was +thrumming through the shrouds, and whistling through the still open +scuttles, while the aerial vibrated like a tuning fork in the shrieking +blast. +</P> + +<P> +It was one of those sudden gales that play havoc with small craft, +especially in the comparatively shallow waters of the North Sea; but, +although Peter kept a vigilant look out for SOS signals, the air was +remarkably free from radio calls. At intervals he could hear a +peculiar buzzing in the ear-pieces—a noise that he knew from previous +experience to be distant rain. +</P> + +<P> +A shadow darkened the cabin. Peter turned his head and saw Anstey, the +Third Officer, standing in the doorway. He was prepared for the storm, +his head being partly concealed by a sou'wester, while a long oilskin +coat and a pair of india-rubber boots completed the visible portion of +his rig-out. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Sparks!" he exclaimed. "How goes it? Anything doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely nothing," replied Mostyn. "Everything's as quiet as the +proverbial lamb. I suppose——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey made some remark, but the Wireless Officer took not the +slightest notice. Already he had snatched up a pencil and was +scribbling upon the ever-ready pad. +</P> + +<P> +It was a TTT or urgent warning signal. Mostyn wrote it down +mechanically without knowing its import, but the Third Officer, looking +over Peter's shoulder, made a grimace as he deciphered the other's +scrawl: +</P> + +<P> +"CQ de GNF—TTT—mine warning—S.S. two-step reports 1630 sighting two +mines, lat. 53° 20' 15", long. 1° 5' 30" east stop mines just awash +barnacle covered apparently connected by hawser—end of message." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" exclaimed Anstey. "Just our luck. Right in our course, an' +it's my blessed watch." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Night of Peril +</H3> + +<P> +Making his way to the chartroom the Third Officer "laid off" the +position of the mines. His rough guess proved to be remarkably +accurate. According to the position given, the source of danger was +only a few miles from the Outer Dowsing Lightship, and the <I>West +Barbican</I> had to pass close to the Outer Dowsing on her course to +Brocklington. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey's next step was to inform the Captain. The Old Man, a sailor to +the backbone, was in the chart-house in a trice, where, after a brief +but careful survey of tide-tables and current-drift charts, he was able +to determine the approximate position of the floating mines when the +ship would be in the immediate vicinity of the light-vessel. Allowing +for the set and strength of the tide and the drift caused by the wind, +between the time the mines were first sighted and the time when the +<I>West Barbican</I> entered the danger-zone, he was able to assert that, if +the ship's original course were maintained, she would pass at least ten +miles to the east'ard of those most undesirable derelicts. +</P> + +<P> +"I think we're O.K., Mr. Anstey," he remarked. "Besides, for all we +know the mines might have been exploded by this time. Those naval +Johnnies are pretty smart at that sort of thing. Well, carry on. Let +me know if there are any supplementary warnings." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man returned to his cabin, and was soon deep in the pages of a +novel; while Anstey resumed his trick, thanking his lucky stars that, +unlike Mostyn's, his watch was not indefinitely prolonged through the +shortcomings of two sea-sick "birds". +</P> + +<P> +Just as darkness set in, the gale was at its height. Clouds of spray +flew over the bridge as the old hooker wallowed and nosed her way +through the steep, crested waves, for the wind had backed still more +and was now dead in her teeth. +</P> + +<P> +Even in the wireless-cabin the noise was terrific. The boats in davits +were creaking and groaning, as they strained against their gripes with +each disconcerting jerk of the ship. Spray in sheets rattled upon the +tightly stretched boat-covers like volleys of small shot, while the +monotonous clank-clank of the steam steering-gear, as the <I>secuni</I> +(native quartermaster) strove to keep the ship within half a degree of +her course, added to the turmoil that penetrated the four steel walls +of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Vainly Peter tried to concentrate his thoughts on a book. Yet, in +spite of the fact that he was wearing telephones clipped to his ears, +the hideous clamour refused to be suppressed. Reading under these +conditions was out of the question. He put away the book and remained +keeping his weary watch, valiantly combating an almost overwhelming +desire for sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, with a terrific crash, something hit the deck of the +flying-bridge immediately above the wireless-cabin. For a moment Peter +was under the impression that one of the foremost derricks had carried +away and crashed athwart the roof of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Soon he discovered the actual cause. The stout wire halliard taking +the for'ard end of the aerial had parted, and the two wires, spreaders, +and insulators had fallen on the boat-deck. +</P> + +<P> +Removing the now useless telephones and donning his pilot coat, Mostyn +went out into the open, glad of the slight protection from the cutting +wind afforded by the canvas bridge-screens and dodgers. Already +lascars, in obedience to the shrill shouts of the serang and <I>tindal</I> +(native petty officer), had swarmed upon the bridge ready to clear away +the debris. +</P> + +<P> +Accompanied by the bos'un Mostyn made a hasty examination of the +damage. The aerials had fortunately fallen clear of the funnel, and, +although the for'ard insulators had been shattered, the drag of the +wires had kept the after ones from being dashed against the main +topmast. +</P> + +<P> +It was "up to" the Wireless Officer to repair and set up the aerials as +soon as possible. +</P> + +<P> +While the lascars were clearing away a spare halliard, Peter began to +replace the broken spreader and its insulators. Cut by the keen wind, +drenched with the rain and spray, and chilled to the bone in spite of +his heavy pilot coat, Mostyn struggled with refractory wires until his +benumbed hands were almost raw and hardly capable of getting a grip on +the pliers. +</P> + +<P> +It was a hit-or-miss operation. In the circumstances he had no means +of testing the insularity of the aerial. He could only hope that, when +once more aloft, it would function properly. +</P> + +<P> +With a sigh of relief he completed the final splice and turned to the +serang. +</P> + +<P> +"Heave away!" he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +The man gave a shrill order. Instantly the hitherto passive line of +lascars handling the slack of the rope broke into activity. Gradually +the aerial tautened, as a score of brown-faced, thin-limbed natives +tailed on to the hauling part of the wire halliard. Quickly at first, +then with gradually diminishing speed, the double line of wire rose +from the deck and disappeared from view in the spray-laden darkness of +the night, and presently the serang reported that the aerial was close +up. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn returned to his post. Glancing at the clock he noted with +astonishment that the task had taken him exactly an hour. Then, +replacing the telephones to his ears, he endeavoured to thaw his +benumbed fingers in front of the electric-light globe. +</P> + +<P> +Hour after hour passed in monotonous inactivity. The appearance of the +devoted Mahmed with a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches—most of the +tea was spilt, and the sandwiches were abundantly salted and moistened +in the process of mounting the bridge—proved a welcome diversion. +</P> + +<P> +Just before midnight a second disaster occurred to the aerial. This +time the double wires parted, practically simultaneously, about midway +between the masts. This point, being almost immediately above the +funnel, is always a fruitful source of trouble, owing to the +comparatively rapid deterioration set up by the gases from the furnaces. +</P> + +<P> +Repairs, even of a makeshift nature, were for the present out of the +question. It was impossible to send men aloft to assist in setting up +the wires. No human being could hold on in such a gale, far less +perform the intricate task of reeving fresh halliards and wires. All +Mostyn could do was to make all secure in the wireless-cabin. He was +then free to turn in and enjoy a few hours' rest, until the ship's +arrival at Brocklington Dock should afford an opportunity for repairing +the damage. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was exchanging a few words with the officer of the watch when the +attention of both was attracted by a flash. +</P> + +<P> +"Distress signal!" exclaimed Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Not vivid enough," rejoined his companion "Might be a rocket from one +of the Dowsings—the Inner, most likely. If——" +</P> + +<P> +Another flash, faintly visible through the murk, interrupted Anstey's +words. For several seconds both men listened intently for the double +detonation. None was audible. Distance and the howling of the +elements had completely deadened the reports. +</P> + +<P> +Even as they looked a steady pin-prick of reddish light appeared on +exactly the same bearing as the previous flashes. For perhaps fifteen +seconds it remained constant; then momentarily it grew in volume until +a trailing column of ruddy flame, fringed by a wind-torn cloud of +smoke, illuminated the distant horizon. +</P> + +<P> +Bringing his night-glasses to bear upon the source of the flames the +Third Officer studied the scene. Then, replacing the binoculars, he +shouted to his companion: +</P> + +<P> +"Vessel ablaze from end to end. Tanker, I guess. I'm off to call the +Old Man." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock was quickly out of his cabin. He had waited merely to +put on his bridge-coat over his pyjamas and thrust his bare feet into a +huge pair of sea-boots. He was one of those powerfully framed, tough +men for whom the sudden change of temperature had no terrors and few +discomforts. +</P> + +<P> +Shouting a hoarse yet unmistakable order to the secum at the wheel, and +ringing down to the engine-room for increased speed, Captain Bullock +waited until the <I>West Barbican</I> had steadied on her new course, then +he turned to the Third Officer. +</P> + +<P> +"She's a tanker, right enough, Anstey. Got it properly in the neck. +See that the boats are cleared away, although I'm afraid there's +precious little chance of using them in this sea. I'm off to shift +into thicker togs." +</P> + +<P> +In five minutes the Old Man returned. By this time the <I>West +Barbican</I>, making a good twelve and a half knots against the head wind +and sea, had got within a couple of miles of the doomed vessel. +</P> + +<P> +Already she was well down by the head, and blazing furiously from stem +to stern. To windward of her the seas were breaking heavily against +the hull of the burning ship. Already she had lost way and was +drifting broadside on to the wind. Cascades of water pouring over her +listing deck had no effect in quenching the flames but merely raised +enormous clouds of steam to mingle with the flame-tinged, oily smoke. +To leeward the sea was calm for almost a mile, owing to the liberation +of the oil. And not only was it calm: it was a placid lake of fire, as +the floating, highly inflammable coating of petroleum burnt furiously +in half a dozen detached areas. +</P> + +<P> +"See any signs of a boat?" demanded the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied Anstey. +</P> + +<P> +"Thought not," was the rejoinder. "A boat would be swamped to +wind'ard, and burnt to a cinder to lee'ard. Doubt even whether the +poor fellows had a chance to lower away—— What's that on our port +bow? By heavens, Anstey, it's a boat!" +</P> + +<P> +Both men levelled their binoculars. Mostyn, keeping discreetly in the +background, made use of the chartroom telescope. +</P> + +<P> +Silhouetted against the glare was a ship's boat. There were people in +her, but they were making no apparent effort to draw away from the +danger zone. Rising and falling on the long, oily swell, the frail +craft was midway between two patches of fiercely burning oil that +threatened to converge and destroy the boat and its human freight. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to risk it, Anstey," decided the Old Man, as he rang for +half speed. "I only hope the lascars'll stick it. I'm going to take +the old hooker between those patches of burning oil. We'll try towing +the boat clear. If that fails we'll have to lower one of our own +boats. Pass the word for the serang to stand by to heave a line, and +then give an eye to the <I>secuni</I>. If he runs the ship into either of +those patches it'll be a serious matter." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Ringing for stop, Captain Bullock knew that there was sufficient way +upon the ship to enable her to close the boat without the former being +out of control. Allowance had also to be made for the wind, which, +owing to the alteration of course, was now two points on the starboard +bow. +</P> + +<P> +The heat was now quite perceptible, while at intervals wisps of black, +suffocating smoke swept to lee'ard, completely enveloping the <I>West +Barbican</I>. On either side of her were expanses of burning oil, +bubbling and popping in a series of miniature explosions, as the heated +water beneath the oil vapourized and blew out through the covering +layer of burning viscous liquid. +</P> + +<P> +Right in the centre of the steadily decreasing avenue of unlighted oil +lay the boat. Two cables' lengths beyond, and now a glowing mass of +white-hot metal, lay the burning tanker, awash for'ard and with her +propeller showing clear above the agitated water. +</P> + +<P> +Admirably manoeuvred and conned by the Old Man, the <I>West Barbican</I> +drew near the tanker's boat. Slowly she passed within heaving +distance. The now excited lascars heaved lines, several of which fell +short. Two at least dropped athwart the boat, but no attempt was made +on the part of her crew to secure them. The luckless men were either +dead or else rendered insensible by the hot, suffocating air. +</P> + +<P> +The ship had now lost way. Her head was beginning to pay off. It was +necessary to go ahead in order to regain steerage way; but, at the same +time, if the work of rescue were to be consummated, it would be +necessary to make use of one of the <I>West Barbican's</I> boats. +</P> + +<P> +"Lower away!" roared the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment the tanker disappeared beneath the surface. The tower +of flame that enveloped her died down to a mere flicker, completely +outclassed by the glare of a dozen distinct patches of fiercely burning +oil. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars manning the falls hesitated, while their comrades in the +boat showed signs of panic. In the confusion they noticed that, +unaccountably there was no officer on board the lifeboat. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn was one of those men who in moments of danger are prone to act +independently—they simply cannot remain passive spectators when there +is work to be done. It was no business of the Wireless Officer to go +away in the boats. His duty was to stay by the wireless gear. But in +this case Peter knew that he could do nothing in the cabin with the +aerial out of action. He could be of use in the boat, to take command +and steady the decidedly "jumpy" Asiatics. +</P> + +<P> +The overwhelming instinct to bear a hand seized him in an instant. +Running aft to where the lifeboat swung outboard he leapt into the +stern-sheets, grasped the yoke lines, and shouted to the tindal to +lower away. The man, seeing that a sahib was in the boat but not +recognizing who he was, gave the word to the lascars manning the falls, +and the boat was lowered rapidly and evenly. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn had a momentary vision of the lighted scuttles slipping upwards +as the boat dropped down past the ship's side. Then with a sharp flop +the lifeboat struck the oily surface. Simultaneously the lower blocks +of the falls disengaged, and the boat began to drift astern. +</P> + +<P> +"Give way!" ordered Peter. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars, trained to obey commands issued in English, acted smartly. +With the presence of a sahib in the lifeboat their fears, if not +entirely banished, were cloaked by the sense of discipline. +</P> + +<P> +"Pull starboard; back port." +</P> + +<P> +The lifeboat turned in almost her own length. +</P> + +<P> +Already the steadily converging patches of flames justified this order. +To turn under the use of the helm alone would bring the boat in contact +with the oil-fired water. +</P> + +<P> +"Together—way 'nough—in bow." +</P> + +<P> +In five minutes from the time Peter had taken his place in the +stern-sheets the two boats were gunwale to gunwale. In the tanker's +whaler were seven human forms huddled in weird postures, either on the +bottom-boards or across the thwarts. +</P> + +<P> +Whether they were dead or alive Mostyn knew not. All he could do was +to have the seemingly inanimate bodies transhipped, and then return to +the <I>West Barbican</I>—if he could. +</P> + +<A NAME="p52"></A> + +<P> +Working like men possessed, four of the lascars unceremoniously bundled +the bodies into the lifeboat. Then, pushing off, they resumed their +oars, pulling desperately for the ship, which was now gathering +sternway at a distance of a cable's length. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Mostyn realized the extreme gravity of the +situation. The ship was now gathering sternway, drifting rapidly to +lee'ard the while. The churning of her propeller had caused a large +patch of burning oil to still further contract the narrow fairway +between the ship and the boat. +</P> + +<P> +Peter knew full well that he and the boat's crew stood less than a +dog's chance should the fiery sea cut them off. He was also aware of +the great difficulty of being picked up by the ship, since the latter +had herself to be constantly manoeuvring to avoid contact with the +fire. Even if the lifeboat escaped the flames, there arose the danger +of her being crushed by her parent. In that case there would be little +or no chance of swimming in the thick layer of oil that had not as yet +become ignited. +</P> + +<P> +It was touch and go. Dazzled by the glare, partly stifled by the thick +smoke, and scorched by the hot, raging wind, Peter all but lost his +bearings. A momentary dispersal of the smoke showed him the hull of +the <I>West Barbican</I> less than four boats' lengths away. +</P> + +<P> +"Boat oars!" +</P> + +<P> +The now thoroughly scared lascars obeyed very hurriedly. The bowman +grasped and engaged the for'ard falls, pulping one of his fingers in +the operation. Almost simultaneously the lower block of the after +falls was hooked on, and with a disconcerting jerk the lifeboat rose +clear of the water. +</P> + +<P> +Only by a few seconds had she won through. Before the boat was hoisted +home the sea beneath her was covered with crackling, spluttering flames. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"Logged" +</H3> + +<P> +Peter Mostyn's chief desire upon regaining the deck was to go below and +get something to drink. Now that the immediate danger was over, his +throat was burning like a lime-kiln, and his head was buzzing as if he +had taken an overdose of quinine. +</P> + +<P> +Slipping off his lifebelt—he had donned it mechanically on rushing to +the boat, although in the circumstances the advantages of wearing a +lifebelt were of a negative order—Peter returned to the bridge, +keeping discreetly in the background. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man was fighting a tough battle. With Preston and Anstey he +was extricating his command from a perilous situation, where skilful +seamanship alone could regain control of the helm without allowing the +vessel to wallow helplessly in the fiery sea. Putting the ship ahead +and astern alternately the Old Man allowed her head to pay off under +the force of the wind until he saw a chance of turning. Then, with a +grunt of supreme satisfaction, he rang for full speed ahead. Five +minutes later the <I>West Barbican</I>, clear of the oil-calmed water, was +rolling in the tempestuous seas. +</P> + +<P> +"Carry on, Mr. Anstey," he ordered. "Lay her on her old course." +</P> + +<P> +He turned abruptly on his heel, intending to see how the survivors of +the tanker were faring. As he swung round he noticed Peter standing +under the lee of the wireless cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn!" +</P> + +<P> +"Sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"How many survivors?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter told him. +</P> + +<P> +"A smart bit of work of yours, Mr. Mostyn, but—oh, very well, go below +and turn in. I'll see you in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer obeyed only too gladly. As he washed the grime +from his face he reflected that, thanks to the damaged aerial, he would +have an uninterrupted watch below. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time he lay awake in his bunk. It was not the heavy rolling +that was responsible for his sleeplessness. The whole of the night's +adventure passed in review, its horrors intensified in retrospect. It +was not until dawn was breaking that he fell into a fitful slumber. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile the skipper had his hands full. In the absence of a doctor +he and the purser were attending to the helpless survivors of the +tanker. Of the seven removed from the boat only two were conscious, +and one of the pair had a compound fracture of the right leg. +</P> + +<P> +His companion was able to give an account of the disaster. The vessel +was the American-owned oil-tanker <I>Bivalve</I> of and from New York for +Hull. She had struck the two drifting mines, concerning the presence +of which a general wireless message had been sent out. Both exploded +amidships, one on either side, about fifty feet for'ard of the +engine-room, which in vessels of the <I>Bivalve's</I> type are well aft. +Within a few minutes the petroleum tanks exploded, and the sinking ship +became a raging furnace. Two boats were lowered, but of the fate of +the second the narrator had no knowledge. He remembered pulling +desperately at an oar until the smoke cloud overwhelmed the boat. +Then, gasping frantically for breath, he lost consciousness until he +found himself on board the <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<P> +At eight bells (8 a.m.) Peter was roused from his slumbers. A glance +through the now open scuttle showed him that the ship was berthed +alongside a wharf, and that the stevedores were already getting busy. +A huge crane was transporting long, timber-protected pieces of +steelwork into the <I>West Barbican's</I> No. 1 hold. +</P> + +<P> +Peter regarded the steelwork with interest. It was the material on +which rested the reputation and success of the Brocklington Ironworks +Company, of which his father was managing director. +</P> + +<P> +But other matters quickly demanded his attention. There was the +damaged aerial. That had to be replaced under the direction of the +Acting Chief Officer, but upon Mostyn's shoulders depended the +responsibility of the perfect insulating of the wires. Already the +necessary material had been "marked off", and the serang and his party +were engaged in making eye-splices in the wire rope. At the mast-head +of both fore and main, men were reeving fresh halliards for the purpose +of sending the aerials aloft. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock was standing on the bridge watching the cargo being +shipped, when he caught sight of the Wireless Officer. He beckoned +Peter to approach. The officer of the watch was at the other side of +the bridge superintending the securing of an additional spring; +otherwise the bridge was deserted. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn," began the Old Man abruptly, "I want you to understand +clearly that there is only one captain on board this hooker, and he +alone gives permission for officers to leave the ship. Who, might I +ask, ordered you away in the lifeboat last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one, sir," replied Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Then please remember that in future you are not to act on your own +initiative except in matters directly concerning your duties as +Wireless Officer. You were guilty of a grave breach of discipline. +Don't let it occur again." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn smarted under this unexpected rap over the knuckles. He +realized upon consideration that the rebuke was well merited. His +offence was a technical breach of discipline. It was of no use telling +this bluff old skipper his reasons. Yarns about "impulses of the +moment" would elicit little sympathy. So he kept silent. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same," continued the Old Man, in a less gruff tone, "you did a +smart bit of work last night. Where did you learn to handle a boat?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn flushed with pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had three years in the Merchant Service, sir, and I've been in +yachts and sailing dinghies ever since I can remember." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you didn't learn seamanship as a wireless man," continued the +skipper. "Sorry I had to tick you off, my lad, but I simply had to. +I'd like to send in a recommendation on your behalf, but I don't see +how I can. Your Company would kick up the deuce of a shine if they +knew I employed a wireless officer on executive duties. It's not done; +or it's not supposed to be done—put it that way. And another thing: +supposing, and it was quite likely, you'd lost the number of your mess +over that business, what sort of yarn could I have pitched into the +Board of Trade people? And my employers too? A pretty fine skipper +they'd think I was, allowing a wireless officer to take away a +lifeboat. Likely as not I'd have got the push from the Company's +service and lost my ticket into the bargain. D'ye see my point?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll cry quits. All the same it was a smart bit of work—a +jolly smart bit of work—but I'll have to make an entry in the log +recording the fact that you've been reprimanded and stating the reason. +I don't think it will adversely affect you, Mr. Mostyn; rather the +other way, I fancy." +</P> + +<P> +Peter thanked the Captain and went about his duties, reflecting that +the Old Man wasn't at all a bad sort, and that his bark was certainly +worse than his bite. +</P> + +<P> +Looking more like a blacksmith than a radio-operator, Peter completed +his part of the work and applied the necessary tests. Everything was +apparently in order in the wireless-cabin. With a grunt of +satisfaction he replaced the receivers and left the cabin. Until the +ship sailed—she was due to leave at ten that evening—he was at +leisure. +</P> + +<P> +"Now for a bath, a shave, and a change," he soliloquized. "It would +never do to meet the pater in this state." +</P> + +<P> +Somewhat to his surprise he found his father waiting in his son's cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Peter, my boy," was Captain Mostyn's greeting; "been +ratting—or sweeping flues?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter certainly looked a bit of a wreck. His sleepless night, +following the perilous affair in the lifeboat, had given him a +washed-out appearance. He was dog-tired, physically and mentally. He +was dirty, unshaven, and rigged out in a very old uniform, with a scarf +knotted round his neck in place of the regulation collar and tie. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Pater," replied Peter. "Neither ratting nor sweeping flues. I've +been choked off by the skipper." +</P> + +<P> +"Easy job, judging by that running noose on your neck-gear," commented +Captain Mostyn jocularly. "What's happened?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter told him, simply and straightforwardly. There was never a lack +of confidence between father and son. His parent listened attentively +to the bald narrative. +</P> + +<P> +"Your skipper was quite right," he observed. "In my days in the +Service I wouldn't have thought of allowing a watch-keeping sub to go +down to the engine-room and play about with the gadgets in order to +slow down the ship. You did much the same sort of thing, chipping into +a department that wasn't yours. At the same time, I'm proud of you, +Peter. It shows you are not deficient in pluck. Right-o! carry on +with your ablutions. I want to have a few words with Captain Bullock +about the steelwork. While I'm about it I'll ask him to let you go +ashore to lunch with me." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Antonius Bullock was rather astonished to find that the +managing director of the firm that had virtually chartered the <I>West +Barbican</I> for three days was the father of his Wireless Officer. +</P> + +<P> +"And I had to log him this morning," declared the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he told me about it," rejoined Captain Mostyn. "No, he didn't +grouse about it. He quite sees the force of your argument. In fact, I +told him practically the same thing." +</P> + +<P> +"All the same," said Captain Bullock, "it was a smart piece of work. +At my age I'd think twice before taking on a job of that sort. If I +had to do it I'd do it, you'll understand, but these youngsters often +rush into danger when there's no particular call for it; not their +duty, in a manner of speaking. I'm rather curious to know what he did +when that pirate collared the <I>Donibristle</I>. He told a lot about the +affair, but precious little about his share in it." +</P> + +<P> +"Peter had a pretty stiff time, judging from what he told me," observed +Captain Mostyn. "Amongst other things he still bears the scars of +eighteen wounds he received when the <I>Donibristle's</I> wireless-cabin was +demolished by a shell." +</P> + +<P> +"Eighteen, by Jove!" exclaimed Captain Bullock. "I had one—a +beauty—in the war. Splinter from a four-inch shell when Fritz +torpedoed the old <I>Harkaway</I> and fired on the boats. But eighteen!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," commented Captain Mostyn. "He's seen more adventures during his +short time in the Merchant Service than I did in thirty-seven years in +the navy. During the whole of my sea service I never saw a shot fired +in anger. Very good, I'll be on board at four o'clock to sign those +papers. Do you mind giving my boy leave till then?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock readily gave the required permission, and father and +son had an enjoyable spell ashore. +</P> + +<P> +By four o'clock most of the steelwork was safely stowed in the hold. +Only a few crates of small parts remained to complete the all-important +consignment for the Kilba Protectorate Government. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all shipshape and Bristol-fashion, sir," remarked Captain +Bullock, as the necessary signatures were appended to the papers in +connection with the shipment. "If that precious lot isn't delivered +safe and sound in Pangawani Harbour by the first of February it won't +be the fault of Antonius Bullock." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Passengers +</H3> + +<P> +At high water that night the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>, drawing eighteen +feet for'ard and twenty-four aft, left Brocklington Harbour, crossing +the bar with less than five feet of water under her keel. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately the weather had moderated, the wind flying round off the +land, otherwise she might have been detained for days, owing to the +condition of the bar. The ship was now making for Gravesend to pick up +passengers and mails, and thence for East Africa according to her usual +programme. +</P> + +<P> +Peter went on watch at ten that night with the unalluring prospect of +remaining on duty till midday—perhaps longer—since Partridge and +Plover, who had bucked up considerably during the vessel's stay in +port, promptly showed signs of internal troubles the moment the bar was +crossed. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a prearranged case of malingering. There was no doubt about +it: they had been ill. Neither knew of the burning of the oil-tanker, +and of the dangerous position of the <I>West Barbican</I> when she proceeded +to the rescue, until late on the following morning, and even then they +received the news apathetically. +</P> + +<P> +So Mostyn just carried on, pondering over the Company's doubtful +economy, since, in addition to his normal pay, he was already raking in +a fair sum for overtime in excess of the Merchant Service eight hours +per day. +</P> + +<P> +Gravesend was in its wonted late autumn state when the <I>West Barbican</I> +dropped anchor. A thick fog entirely blotted out the shore. The air +reverberated with the dismal hooting of sirens in every imaginable key; +while bells clanging from vessels at anchor added to the din. At +intervals the sun shone feebly through the yellow pall, although it was +impossible to see twenty feet along the deck. To add to the general +discomfort a raw, moist, west wind was blowing down London River, +without having sufficient force to disperse the baffling fog. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>West Barbican</I> was two and a half hours late in arriving at +Gravesend. If she were to weigh at the scheduled hour the passengers +would have to be smart in getting on board with their personal cabin +effects. Their heavy baggage had been sent down to the docks and +placed in a hold a week previously. +</P> + +<P> +Peter Mostyn had turned in directly the ship dropped anchor. There was +a chance of two hours well-earned rest, if rest it could be called, +since he lay down on his bunk fully clothed save for his rubber +deck-boots. It was one of those frequent occasions when he could not +afford to waste precious minutes in dressing and undressing. He was +almost too dog-tired to kick off his boots. He was dimly conscious of +throwing himself on his bunk and pulling the collar of his greatcoat up +over the back of his neck; then he passed into a state of oblivion, +notwithstanding the discordant sonata within and without the ship. +</P> + +<P> +He was awakened by the appearance of Mahmed with the inevitable char. +The native boy was now in "full rig", a concession to the still-absent +passengers. He wore a white drill suit, similar to that worn by +officers in tropical climes, with the exception that there were no +shoulder-straps. On his head he sported a round skull-cap of +astrakhan, with a scarlet top. +</P> + +<P> +"No come yet, sahib," announced Mahmed, in response to Peter's inquiry +as to whether the tender had come alongside with the passengers. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," rejoined Peter, as he handed back the empty cup. "Tell +Partridge Sahib and Plover Sahib I want them in the wireless-cabin." +</P> + +<P> +Going on deck, Peter found that the fog was as thick as ever. It was +now nearly eight bells (4 p.m.), and the crew had been mustered for +inspection. All the deck hands were now rigged out in uniforms. +Instead of the motley garb, each man had a loose-fitting coat of +butcher-blue, reaching to his knees and secured round the waist with a +red scarf. His headdress was a scarlet, close-fitting cap, not unlike +the Egyptian "tarboosh". This was the uniform issued by the Company +for "ceremonial", and the expected advent of passengers was a fitting +occasion for the display. +</P> + +<P> +Three short blasts close alongside brought the officer of the watch to +the end of the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +"Tender alongside, sir," he announced. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man, in his best uniform, loomed up through the fog, +disappearing as he hastened to the gangway, where, at the foot of the +accommodation ladder, two lascars were stationed at the manropes to +assist in the trans-embarkation of the passengers. +</P> + +<P> +Gliding through the mist like a wraith the squat, snub-nosed tender ran +alongside and was made fast. One by one the passengers began to ascend +the swaying accommodation ladder. In all they numbered forty-one, +mostly of the male sex. A few were missionaries bound for Kenya and +Uganda; there were men taking up farming in the rich lands of the +interior of British East Africa; mining engineers for Rhodesia; and +people who for various reasons had booked their passages to the Cape by +the <I>West Barbican</I> rather than by the fast mail-boats. There was also +a young man in the uniform of a Mercantile Marine Officer. He was the +ship's doctor, "signed on" for the voyage only, thus combining business +with pleasure, being in ordinary conditions a hard-worked country +practitioner. It was the first long holiday he had had for five years, +and he meant to make the best of every minute of it. +</P> + +<P> +There were seven lady passengers. The first one up the ladder was a +stout, middle-aged woman, dressed rather startlingly for a trip on a +tender in a fog. Her travelling-costume was certainly of good material +but too vivid in colour for a woman of her age and build. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn, standing a few feet from the head of the accommodation ladder, +watched her curiously. At one time she might have been good-looking. +A perpetual sneer was on her face. She looked a woman who was +habitually peevish and vile-tempered. Even as she came up the ladder +she was complaining in a loud, high-pitched voice to someone following +her—her husband apparently. +</P> + +<P> +"Bet she's a tartar," thought Peter, and turned his attention to the +next newcomer—a red-faced, sheepish-looking man, who, judging by his +obvious bewilderment, had set foot for the first time upon a craft +larger than a coastal pleasure steamer. Mostyn put him down as a +country innkeeper, since he bore a strong resemblance to the host of +the "Blue Cow" at Trentham Regis. +</P> + +<P> +After that the crowd on the gangway thickened, the swaying ladder +creaking and groaning under the weight of this queue of humanity. +There were old men, young men; prosperous-looking men, poor-looking +men; men with jovial lightheartedness written large upon their faces; +others looking woebegone and dejected, as if regretting the past and +dreading the future. There were men who might have been chosen as +models in the rôle of Adonis; others who outvied in features the +deepest Adelphi villain. Amongst the last of the arriving passengers +came a girl of about nineteen or twenty. +</P> + +<P> +She was slim and <I>petite</I>. Although wearing a serviceable raincoat she +carried herself gracefully, holding but lightly to the handrail of the +ladder. Mostyn noticed that her moist hair was of a rich, brownish +hue, her features finely modelled. Her eyes were of a deep grey hue, +beneath a pair of evenly arched eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of the clammy fog her cheeks shone with the glow of youth—a +healthy glow that told unfailingly of an active, outdoor life. +</P> + +<P> +"Jolly pretty girl, that," commented Peter, communing with his own +thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +The very last passenger to come over the side—Peter paid no attention +to him—was a young, athletic man carrying a travel-worn leather +portmanteau. With the air of one accustomed to life on shipboard he +stepped briskly off the end of the gangplank and made straight for the +saloon. +</P> + +<P> +On the passenger list he appeared as William Porter, of Durban. Not +one of the <I>West Barbican's</I> officers realized what viper the good ship +was cherishing in her bosom; for in Berlin William Porter would have +answered readily and truthfully to the name of Ludwig Schoeffer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Quiet Trick +</H3> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Some of the incidents in this chapter are based upon actual facts +recorded in <I>The Signal</I>. The author takes this opportunity to express +his thanks to the editor of that journal for permission, readily +granted, to make use of certain incidents here recorded. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Mostyn made his way to the wireless-cabin to find his two satellites +standing by according to orders. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, all right now?" asked Peter solicitously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," was the reply in unison. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you have for dinner in your mess?" pursued Mostyn, addressing +Partridge. +</P> + +<P> +"B'iled mutton, sir; and it weren't 'arf good." +</P> + +<P> +"Not 'arf," corroborated the other bird. "An' b'iled peas an' +dumplin's an' orl that." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o!" rejoined Peter briskly. "That shows you're both as fit as +fiddles. We start sea routine at 10 p.m. You'll take on till four +bells, Partridge——" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, wot about my dinner?" objected the Watcher. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner?" repeated Mostyn, failing to grasp the reason of his +subordinate's objection. "What's that got to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner's at two bells, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer suppressed a desire to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Four bells in the middle watch," explained Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"That's 2 a.m. Surely to goodness you didn't expect to do a fourteen +hours' trick? Plover, you relieve Partridge at four bells and carry on +till I take over at eight bells—that's eight o'clock in the morning, +not noon or four in the afternoon," he added caustically. "Got that?" +</P> + +<P> +Yes, Messrs. Partridge and Plover had got that part all right. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," continued Peter, "you know your duties. On no account touch the +transmitter. Call me if there's any real need for it; and, don't +forget, if you fall asleep on watch there'll be trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn dismissed his assistants and donned the telephones. The <I>West +Barbican</I> had weighed and was creeping cautiously down London River, +over which the fog still hung as thickly as ever. +</P> + +<P> +He anticipated a busy time. There were sure to be passengers who +wanted to send messages at belated hours; urgent radiograms from shore +stations, and radiograms that weren't urgent, were bound to be coming +in; while, in addition, he had to deal with calls from ships and +stations in the vicinity, and look out for time signals, weather +reports, and possibly SOS and TTT warnings. Otherwise, save on +approaching or departing from a port, the operator's work is light and +at sea often approaching boredom. +</P> + +<P> +Ten p.m. found the <I>West Barbican</I> rounding the North Foreland. She +had now increased speed to nine knots, the weather becoming clearer. +Hitherto, her passage down the river as far as the Edinburgh Lightship +had been perforce at a painful crawl of four to five knots, with her +siren blaring incessantly. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn had seen nothing of the passengers after their arrival. Being +on duty he had missed dinner in the saloon. Not that he had missed +much from a spectacular point of view, for most of the passengers were +absent from that meal. A good many, in fact, would fail to put in an +appearance at meals for several days, giving the hard-worked stewards +and stewardesses a strenuous time in consequence. The latter were at +it already, judging by the frequent popping of soda-water-bottle corks +and cries of varying intensity and vehemence for "steward". +</P> + +<P> +The tindal had gone for'ard and rung four bells. Peter, with the +telephones still on, waited for his relief. Five minutes passed. He +was beginning to think that the bird had played him false again, when +Master Partridge's hobnailed boots were heard clattering on the +brass-treaded ladder. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite ready, boss," he observed genially. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn, without a word, handed him the telephones, repressing the +desire to tick him off for unpunctuality. Then, waiting until the +Watcher had adjusted the ear-pieces to his broad head, he wished +Partridge "good night". +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I turn in all standing?" he asked himself, as he switched on the +light and surveyed his bunk. It was a bitterly cold night, for, with +the partial dispersal of the fog, a cold nor'easter had sprung up. "A +hundred to one I'll be routed out. Thank goodness we'll soon be in the +Tropics!" +</P> + +<P> +It did not take Peter long to turn in. For some minutes he lay awake +thinking. He was far from easy in his mind concerning the Watcher on +duty. In a congested waterway like the Straits of Dover and the +English Channel—particularly in the vicinity of the Downs and off St. +Catherine's—wireless messages of great importance to the safety of the +ship and her passengers and crew might be sent; but would Partridge be +alert enough to warn the <I>West Barbican's</I> operator? Supposing the +bird fell asleep on watch? It was all very well for Mostyn to say that +if a disaster should occur it would be put down to the fault of the +system. That was not good enough for a conscientious fellow like Peter. +</P> + +<P> +He resolved, in spite of his weariness, to make periodical visits to +the wireless-cabin. +</P> + +<P> +At 10.30 p.m. he cautiously approached the cabin; not with the idea of +eavesdropping but merely to see if Watcher Partridge were on the alert. +If he were, Peter meant to withdraw without disturbing him. If he were +not—Peter smiled grimly. +</P> + +<P> +Thrusting his feet into his rubber boots (on principle Mostyn always +had sea-boots a size larger than he wore with shore-going kit) the +Wireless Officer made his way to the cabin. A glance through the +closed scuttle showed him that Partridge was wide awake, and that he +still wore the telephones. Satisfied, he began to retrace his steps +and encountered Preston tracking along the alleyway. +</P> + +<P> +Dick Preston was still Acting Chief, the Chief Officer having failed to +join the ship at Gravesend. Consequently the <I>West Barbican</I> was one +executive officer short. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello there!" exclaimed Preston. "Thought it was your watch below, +Sparks. What's up: developed insomnia?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn told him the reason for his visit to the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, young fellah-me-lad," declared the Acting Chief. +"You turn in. I know you've had a pretty sticky time. I'll keep an +eye on yon greenhorn and see that he doesn't drop asleep on his perch. +Trust me for that." +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later Peter was sound asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he was aroused by a hand grasping his shoulder. Only half +awake the Wireless Officer sat up in his bunk, narrowly avoiding +collision with the cork-cemented beam overhead. +</P> + +<P> +"TTT, sir!" bellowed an excited voice. +</P> + +<P> +For the present Peter was still hovering on the border-line 'twixt +slumber and wakefulness. Somehow he had the idea in his brain that he +was once more on board the S.S. <I>Donibristle</I>, and the officers' +steward had brought him a cup of tea before going on watch. +</P> + +<P> +"No, dash it all!" he expostulated. "I don't want tea now." +</P> + +<P> +"TTT, sir! TTT!" repeated the disturber of Mostyn's peace. +</P> + +<P> +Then Peter realized the situation. It was Watcher Partridge, almost +falling over himself in his anxiety to proclaim the fact that at last +he had had a call through of an important nature. +</P> + +<P> +Tumbling out of his bunk, Peter slipped into his bridge coat, and +hurried to the wireless-cabin, the Watcher, puffing and blowing, +following hard on his heels. +</P> + +<P> +Picking up the 'phones, Mostyn listened for a few seconds. Then he +replaced the ear-pieces on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to do better than that next time," he observed +caustically. "That's not TTT—nothing like it. It's North Foreland on +our starboard quarter calling CQ. Tuning in, most likely." +</P> + +<P> +Returning to his bunk, Peter noticed that it was now 11.15 p.m. There +was still a chance of a good night's rest, he reflected. +</P> + +<P> +At a quarter to twelve he was called again to receive time signals. +Forty-five minutes later he was aroused to call for wireless orders for +the ship. On this occasion nothing was forthcoming, so back along the +now familiar alleyway he hurried to his sleeping-cabin. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed as if Peter had been asleep only a few minutes when there was +a terrific hammering at his door. Sitting up, Mostyn felt for the +electric light switch. He found it easily enough. There was a +metallic snap—but the cabin was not flooded with light. Something had +gone wrong with the bulb, he reflected, as he shouted to the disturber +without to come in. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened. There appeared the perspiring face of Crawford, the +engineer of the watch, his features thrown into weird relief by the +guttering gleam of an oil hand-lamp. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, laddie!" he exclaimed in sepulchral tones. "Yon Watcher, +he's——" +</P> + +<P> +Words failed the Second Engineer. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awa' to sort yon," he added, and, as if no further explanation +were necessary, bolted precipitately. +</P> + +<P> +Imagining that nothing short of a vision of Partridge grilling on the +main switch would meet his gaze, Peter doubled to the wireless-cabin. +The alleyway was in pitch darkness. He collided violently with the +Third Engineer, who, summoned from his slumbers, was making tracks for +the engine-room. +</P> + +<P> +On the bridge the officer of the watch was shouting to the serang to +bring up the emergency oil-lamps. Every fuse in the ship had been +blown out, and consequently not only the internal lighting had failed +but the electric masthead and side lights had refused duty. With the +<I>West Barbican</I> proceeding down Channel at fifteen knots on a dark +night the possibilities of a disastrous collision were great, until the +emergency lights were rigged up and the ship brought back on her +course, since the binnacle lamp had failed with the other electric +lights. +</P> + +<P> +A strong smell of burning gutta-percha and ebonite greeted Peter as he +gained the vicinity of the wireless-cabin. Outside stood Partridge and +Plover, the latter about to take over the watch. Both were horribly +scared, and no wonder, for upon striking a match Mostyn found the +reason for all the trouble. +</P> + +<P> +Watcher Partridge, on turning over to his opposite number, had hung the +telephones on the main switch. He was deeply surprised and not a +little pained when there was a miniature Brocks' display inside the +cabin, both ear-pieces of the 'phones burning out and emitting most +nauseating fumes, while every fuse on board had been blown out, causing +a complete breakdown of the electric-light system. +</P> + +<P> +After explaining matters to the angry Old Man, who was, figuratively, +hunting for the scalp of the luckless Partridge, Mostyn set to work to +rectify the share of the damage that came within his province. It took +him the best part of an hour to replace the defective main switch by a +new one, connect new telephones, and overhaul the set. +</P> + +<P> +Then, back once more to his bunk, Peter realized that less than five +hours remained before he took over the watch. It was now 3.15 p.m. +</P> + +<P> +At 4.45 the engineer of the watch interrupted Mostyn's dreams. Once +again the fuses had blown out, the cause being traced to the +wireless-cabin. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer stumbled across Master Plover at the foot of the +bridge ladder. The Watcher was nursing his foot, and making +inarticulate noises that denoted pain. The sole of his left boot was +missing, together with the fearsome array of hobnails that used to play +a tattoo upon the brass treads of the ladders. +</P> + +<P> +Master Plover could give no coherent account of what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"I was sittin' there as quiet as a mouse a-listenin' in," he whimpered, +"when I found myself chucked orf me chair right through the blinkin' +door. S'elp me, I didn't do nothin' to the gadgets." +</P> + +<P> +Peter guessed rightly as to what had actually happened. The Watcher +wasn't watching. In other words, he had been dozing, and in a +somnolent state had unconsciously placed his iron-shod boot upon the +long-suffering main switch. +</P> + +<P> +Making good defects, Mostyn managed to soothe the still highly nervous +Plover into a state of tractability. Till a quarter to eight the jaded +Wireless Officer did enjoy an uninterrupted sleep, then to be awakened +by Mahmed's cheerful announcement: "Char, sahib." +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes later Peter took on. As he heard the dot-and-carry-one +patter of the relieved Watcher's solitary boot, he smiled to himself +and reflected that, although the work of a wireless officer is at times +a strenuous one, it has its humorous side and is not without +compensations. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Unheeded SOS +</H3> + +<P> +During the rest of the day the <I>West Barbican</I> rolled before the +following wind, to the no small discomfort of the majority of the +passengers. It was a cold wind, too, and few of the passengers who had +withstood the attacks of <I>mal de mer</I> ventured on deck. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you found out who that loud-voiced female passenger is?" inquired +Peter of Anstey, as the two paced the almost deserted boat-deck. +</P> + +<P> +He put the question with ulterior motives, masking the main point of +his curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"That queer specimen?" rejoined the Third Officer. "No, I haven't, +beyond the fact that she's a Mrs. Shallop, and her husband, that +red-faced man, is a horse-dealer, who made a pile in the war by +stopping at home and selling broken-down hacks to Government inspectors +who hardly knew the bow of a gee-gee from the stern. Yes, we're going +to have some fun out of Mrs. Shallop before long, old son. She's had a +row with the purser, two with the chief stewardess, and a few with the +stewards thrown in as make-weights." +</P> + +<P> +"What about?' asked Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness knows," replied Anstey. "The purser was talking to the Old +Man about it after breakfast. She's rather got on the poor chap's +nerves. Apparently she's an imaginary grievance that they don't treat +her like a 'lydy', so she's been ramming it down their throats that +she's a naval officer's daughter—a captain's daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, isn't she?" asked Peter. +</P> + +<P> +The Third Officer sniffed scornfully. Evidently Mrs. Shallop had +fallen foul of him already. +</P> + +<P> +"Naval captain's daughter!" he exclaimed. "Might be. Sub-lieutenants +become captains, or at least some of them do; and subs have been known +to do rash acts when they are young. But when a woman, whose accent, +manners, and grammar are decidedly rocky, goes out of her way to assert +that she's a naval officer's daughter, well then, snap goes the last +thread of your credulity. My dear old thing, we're going to have some +fun this trip, so get busy." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is the girl—the girl who was almost the last on board?" asked +Mostyn, broaching the long-deferred question at last. "Has she no +friends on the ship?" +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness only knows!" ejaculated the Third Officer fervently. "She's +a Miss Baird, and I think she's by herself. We'll find out in due +course. Hark! Yes, at it again! It's poor old Selwyn getting it this +time." +</P> + +<P> +Through a partly open skylight came the now familiar voice of Mrs. +Shallop, almost ear-piercing in its intensity and raucous in its tone. +Mingled with the strident outbursts of the woman came short, +incompleted protests from the doctor, who apparently was not able to +hold his own. +</P> + +<P> +"At it again," reiterated Anstey. "She's trying the naval captain +stunt on the doc. I guess—by Jove! Wait till she tackles the Old +Man." +</P> + +<P> +Just then Dr. Selwyn appeared on the boat-deck. He was a dapper little +man with the reputation of being a skilful and rapid surgeon. He could +have commanded a large practice in town, but, preferring the country to +city life, was content with a moderate income and plenty of hard work +in congenial surroundings. In manner he was affable, and possessed an +old-world courtesy that made him extremely popular. He was mild in +speech, and rarely lost his temper; but when he came on deck it was +obvious to both Peter and Anstey that he was labouring under suppressed +anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Morning, Doc," was the Third Officer's greeting. "Up for a breather?" +</P> + +<P> +Selwyn braced his shoulders and gazed out to starboard. Nine miles to +the nor'ard the white cliffs of the Isle of Wight stood out clearly +against the dark grey clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he agreed. "A breather. Had a fairly stiff time with sundry +patients. Sort of thing one must expect in the early days of a voyage. +What's that land over there?" +</P> + +<P> +"St. Catherine's," replied Anstey. "If it's clear enough we may sight +the Isle of Purbeck, but I doubt it. So take your last look at Old +England for a while, Doctor." +</P> + +<P> +The three men remained in conversation for several minutes, but Anstey +failed hopelessly in his attempt to "draw" Selwyn with reference to his +encounter with the "tartar". +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to see your wireless-cabin," remarked the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," agreed Mostyn. "As a matter of fact I'm about to take +over the watch." +</P> + +<P> +Anstey, to whom the wireless-room was no novelty, "sheered off" and +shaped a course for the smoking-room, while Peter and the doctor made +their way for'ard to the former's post of duty. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Peter stopped. From the open door of the wireless-cabin came +the deep bass voice of Captain Antonius Bullock. He was "letting rip" +vigorously, and there was anger in his tone. Then, trembling like a +leaf, Watcher Plover appeared. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man, paying an unexpected visit, had found the Watcher fast +asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Already the skipper was "fed up to the back teeth" (to use his own +words) with the two birds. Coming on top of the disconcerting +incidents of the night, when both Watchers had severally dislocated the +electric-lighting service, Plover's delinquency, serious enough in any +circumstances, completely upset the Old Man's equilibrium. +</P> + +<P> +By this time he was fully convinced that the Watcher system was rotten +to the core. On his previous voyage Captain Bullock had fallen foul of +his wireless officers, but that was over technical matters. Otherwise +he had had no cause for complaint, and, generally speaking, the +relations between skipper and radiographers were harmonious if not +exactly cordial. Now, thanks to a misguided attempt at economy, the +Old Man could put no dependence upon Mostyn's assistants, and, in fact, +he was inclined to blame Peter for not exercising more supervision over +his subordinates. +</P> + +<P> +Which was rough on Peter. In Captain Bullock's present mood it was +useless to point out how many times during his "watch below" Mostyn had +been called to the wireless-cabin. The fact remained that Partridge +and Plover had been signed on for the trip. Even if the Old Man wished +he could not land them this side of Las Palmas, and so for the present +Peter must make the best of things, trusting that in due course the two +incompetents might be "licked into shape". +</P> + +<P> +As soon as Captain Bullock had retired to his cabin, Peter took over +the watch, Selwyn standing by as the Wireless Officer made the usual +tests. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you can listen in, Doctor," announced Mostyn, after he had +produced and connected up a supplementary pair of 'phones. "There's +not much doing, I fancy." +</P> + +<P> +Selwyn adjusted the ear-pieces, while Peter, similarly equipped, stood +by pencil in hand in order to give his companion some inkling of any +stray message. +</P> + +<P> +"There's something!" exclaimed the doctor. He was excited. As cool as +the proverbial cucumber when he was performing a deft and rapid +operation upon which human life depended, he was now as delighted as a +child with a new toy, when he heard the high-pitched buzzing sound that +indicated a message in transit. +</P> + +<P> +"Niton," explained Peter. "Isle of Wight station. She's calling +up—no—half a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn's pencil was moving rapidly as he recorded the message. +</P> + +<P> +"Cut out o.m. SOS signals out: stop sending." +</P> + +<P> +Then almost immediately after came a plaintive wail from a ship: +</P> + +<P> +"Please repeat whole of preamble and words after 'overcoat'." +</P> + +<P> +"Explain, please," asked Selwyn. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn, busy altering the wave length in an attempt to pick up the SOS, +did not reply. Explanations could come later. +</P> + +<P> +A vessel fifty miles away was trying to obtain a repetition of a +message from Niton. Part of it she had received, but her operator was +doubtful about the preamble and the words following overcoat. It was a +purely private message, of no interest to anyone save the sender. +Niton was trying to make the operator stop sending, as there was an SOS +message coming from somewhere. The ship's operator for some reason was +persisting in his inquiries for the words following overcoat. In +addition a distant high-power station was chipping in, and there were +also "atmospherics" of high frequency. +</P> + +<P> +Out of this chaotic "jam" Mostyn was trying to isolate the urgent +wireless call for aid. +</P> + +<P> +Almost deafened by the exaggerated reverberations of the ear-pieces as +Mostyn pursued his efforts to tune in, Selwyn watched with unabated +interest the Wireless Officer's deft manipulations of the set. Greek +the doctor understood, but this was something far beyond his ken. +</P> + +<P> +At last. Faintly, almost indistinguishable from the cackling of the +atmospherics, came the despairing SOS. It emanated from a vessel in +dire distress. Peter knew that she was using her comparatively low +emergency set. That indicated the fact that her ordinary sending +apparatus had broken down. +</P> + +<P> +"SOS. S.S. <I>Passionflower</I> 17 miles s. by w. of Owers. Boiler +explosion, ship making water rapidly; pumps inadequate." +</P> + +<P> +"Message received," sent Mostyn, then handing Selwyn the paper on which +he had written the fateful message, "Captain, please," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor removed his telephones and departed on his errand. +Meanwhile Mostyn was listening in for other vessels in the vicinity +replying to the general and urgent call for aid. +</P> + +<P> +In the chartroom the Old Man and Preston held a hasty conference. Only +an hour previously the <I>West Barbican</I> must have crossed the track of +the disabled <I>Passionflower</I>, within a few miles of her. Now a +distance of between fifteen and twenty miles separated the two vessels, +and to render assistance the former vessel would have to retrace her +course. At fifteen or fifteen and a half knots it would take her more +than an hour to close with the <I>Passionflower</I>. If she did, would she +be the first on the scene? +</P> + +<P> +Both the Old Man and the Acting Chief Officer doubted it. This part of +the Channel was a busy one. Not only was there the "up and down" +traffic, but a large number of vessels was plying between Southampton +and the Normandy ports. In addition, the <I>Passionflower</I> was within an +hour's run of Portsmouth, where there were Government tugs and +destroyers ready to render aid. +</P> + +<P> +The navigating officer's doubts were confirmed when Mostyn appeared +with a report that already five vessels were proceeding to the rescue +of the <I>Passionflower</I>. So the <I>West Barbican</I> held on her course. +</P> + +<P> +A little later Peter, who had contrived to "cut out" the plaintive and +persistent inquiry as to the words following overcoat, got into touch +with the P. & O. liner <I>Nowabunda</I>. From her he learnt that the +<I>Passionflower</I> had been sending out her SOS for an hour before the +<I>West Barbican</I> had picked up the distress call. +</P> + +<P> +Either Watcher Plover had been asleep for some time before being +awakened by the skipper, or else his untrained ear had failed to detect +the low notes of the distressed vessel's emergency set. The actual +result was the same. The <I>West Barbican</I>, although nearest to the +<I>Passionflower</I> when she first began the call for aid, had passed by +unheedingly. Had she proceeded to the spot she could have towed the +crippled vessel into Portsmouth or Southampton with very little +difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +This is what the Portsmouth tug <I>Sampson</I> did, the <I>Passionflower</I> +being dry-docked just in time to save her from foundering. In the +Admiralty courts the salvage earned the <I>Sampson</I> £11,000, and this the +<I>West Barbican</I> lost simply and solely through Watcher Plover's +incapacity. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Old Man is Disturbed +</H3> + +<P> +Captain Antonius Bullock had turned in for the night. He had received +the reports of the officer of the watch and the engineer of the watch, +the time signals and weather reports from the Wireless Officer, and was +now free from the cares of command until such time as his steward +called him. He might be called within the next minute; but with luck +he hoped to remain undisturbed until six bells in the morning watch. +</P> + +<P> +It was now 1 a.m. The <I>West Barbican</I> had passed Ushant twenty miles +to port, and was entering the Bay of Biscay. +</P> + +<P> +The weather was still cold, but the wind had moderated considerably, +coming off the land. The Bay was on its best behaviour, and +consequently the passengers, who were beginning to find their sea-legs, +were wandering farther afield than the limited expanse between the +saloon and their respective cabins. +</P> + +<P> +The notice on the Old Man's door, "Don't knock, come in", had +disappeared. Captain Bullock had seen to that. It served its purpose +when the ship was getting ready for sea, but once the passengers came +on board the brusque invitation vanished. +</P> + +<P> +Although the air without was raw it was cosy and warm inside the cabin. +The radiators, heated by steam from the boilers, kept the apartment at +an even temperature, while, as a concession to appearances, a fire +glowed in a polished, brass-mounted grate. Only no heat came from that +fire: it was a dummy, composed of coloured paper rolled into loose +balls and packed around an electric-light bulb. It had a comforting +look, and frequently visitors to the Old Man's cabin stood on the +hearthrug enjoying the heatless glow in utter ignorance of the fact +that no fire burned in that polished brass grate. +</P> + +<P> +Over the door and scuttles the dark-blue baize curtains had been drawn. +The electric light had been switched off, and only the red glow from +the grate faintly illuminated the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock lay in his bunk, raising his head occasionally to sip +at a stiff glass of special Scotch. From early morn to midnight he was +a rigid teetotaller Even at dinner the decanters passed by him +untouched, but every night, even in the hottest weather, his steward +mixed a uniformly strong glass of whisky, hot water, and lemon. +</P> + +<P> +Generally the Old Man was quickly asleep, but to-night he felt wakeful. +Not as a rule a deep thinker—he was essentially a man of action—he +found himself pondering over various matters. +</P> + +<P> +He was beginning to realize that this was his last voyage. On the +<I>West Barbican's</I> return to London he was to relinquish his command and +retire on pension. How he hated the idea! The sea was part of his +being. No one knew the call of the deep more than he. True, at times, +he had been "fed up" with the sea, but those were only passing moods. +Some men looked forward to superannuation from the time they entered +seriously into the battle of life. They had visions of peaceful if not +luxurious retirement, living happily and contentedly on their +hard-earned pensions. "And usually," thought Captain Bullock, "they +are dead in a couple of years—rusted out through sheer idleness." +</P> + +<P> +No, he hated the idea of having to "go on the beach" for the rest of +his life. Settling down in the country and keeping fowls did not +appeal to him in the slightest. He might get a job as harbour-master +in some minor port, but these ports are limited in number. Besides, he +did not take kindly to the idea of being badgered by a petty Harbour +Board, the members of which were probably coal-dealers and corn-factors +who knew nothing about the sea. +</P> + +<P> +"Here I am, as hard as nails, sound as a bell, and a better skipper +than I was twenty years ago," he soliloquized. "Why can't the Company +keep masters on till they show signs of cracking? They'd get something +for their money instead of paying it out in pensions." +</P> + +<P> +Then his thoughts reverted to the lost opportunity of the +<I>Passionflower</I> salvage job. True, there was the business of the +oil-tanker <I>Bivalve</I> as a set-off, but he wondered what his owners +would think when they read of the case in the <I>Shipping Gazette</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by the sound of the cabin door +lock being turned very cautiously. The sound was barely audible above +the varied noises without. +</P> + +<P> +By this time Captain Bullock was in a drowsy state. Without raising +his head from the pillow, he was dimly aware that some one had entered +the cabin. It was unusual. Sometimes his steward had occasion to +enter during the night. Occasionally the officer of the watch or the +Wireless Officer brought a report, and in any case they explained their +presence verbally. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps he thinks I am asleep and doesn't want to disturb me," thought +the drowsy man, and, without attempting to fix the intruder's identity, +he lay still, apathetically watching the other's movements. +</P> + +<P> +The intruder crossed the cabin silently yet without hesitation. He +stood at the writing-desk for a brief instant and then withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +"'Spose it's Anstey with a chit," decided Captain Bullock, and, +satisfied with his own explanation, he fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +At 6 a.m. the Chief Steward mustered his staff preparatory to the usual +routine. There was an absentee: the Captain's steward. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyone seen Wilkins?" demanded the Chief Steward. +</P> + +<P> +No one had. Some one dispassionately volunteered the information that +Wilkin's bunk had not been slept in. Men roused from slumber to +perform the irksome routine are apt to be apathetic before breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +The Chief Steward dismissed his staff to their various duties, and +proceeded to search for the missing man. +</P> + +<P> +He found Wilkins fully dressed and fast asleep on the floor of the +pantry. On a shelf stood an empty tumbler that smelt of whisky. +</P> + +<P> +The Chief Steward stirred the sleeping man with his boot. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along," he exclaimed. "Show a leg, there! Skipper's waiting to +be called." +</P> + +<P> +Beyond a protesting grunt Wilkins showed no sign of recognition. +</P> + +<P> +"Drunk as a lord," commented the Chief Steward. "Come on, man!" he +added sternly. "Pull yourself together. You've been after the Old +Man's whisky-bottle." +</P> + +<P> +A friendship existed between the two men. The Chief Steward had +obtained Wilkins's post for him. In consequence the former made +allowances, which he would not have done in the case of another of his +subordinates. +</P> + +<P> +Holding Wilkins under the arms the Chief Steward dragged him +unceremoniously along the deserted alley-way, and bundled him into his +own cabin. There he would be safe from detection. +</P> + +<P> +Locking the door, the Chief Steward returned to the pantry, washed out +the tell-tale tumbler, and then summoned an assistant steward. +</P> + +<P> +"Wilkins is ill," he announced briefly. "Take on Captain's steward's +duties until he's fit again." +</P> + +<P> +At five minutes to seven Assistant Steward Scott, bearing a can of hot +water and a cup of tea, tapped at the Old Man's cabin door. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock, as fresh as a proverbial daisy, eyed the deputy +coldly. Any alteration of routine jarred him. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Wilkins?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"On the sick list, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph. Bath ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man donned his bridge coat over his pyjamas before making +tracks for the bathroom. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he turned to his servant: +</P> + +<P> +"So you were the man who came into my cabin during the middle watch?" +</P> + +<P> +Scott stammered and went very red in the face. He was a meek, +inoffensive man, and stood in deep awe of those set in authority over +him. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir. Please, sir, I didn't," he protested. "I only took on at +four bells." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock made no audible comment. He went to the writing-desk +to see if anyone had left a chit there. There was none. He gave a +swift, comprehensive glance at the book-shelf where, among other +volumes, were the three separate code-books by which the owners and +consignors were able to communicate with the ship. They were in their +usual places. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man smiled grimly as he put a hastily formed suspicion from his +mind. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he said gruffly. "Carry on." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Code-book +</H3> + +<P> +Mr. William Porter—otherwise Ludwig Schoeffer, had taken readily to +his new surroundings on board the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>. He made it a +habit to do so, wherever he was: at the Wilhelmstrasse, Berlin, or in +Sing Sing Prison, New York. He made a speciality of studying men and +things, and, in order to do so, he naturally came to close quarters +with the objects of his professional attention. +</P> + +<P> +He had failed to prevent the shipment of the Brocklington Company's +consignment of steelwork for the Kilba Protectorate. There remained a +chance of achieving his object while the steelwork was on the high +seas; and to that end he had booked a passage in the <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<P> +His primary idea was to sink the ship without loss of life. It might +have been a new-born hesitation to take human life that actuated his +plans. During the war he had not been so scrupulous. Now, perchance, +he looked upon murder and manslaughter in a different light. Or +perhaps he was developing nerves and was afraid of falling into the +clutches of the law, for he knew full well that, if he bungled, his +employers in Germany would utterly repudiate him. +</P> + +<P> +It might have been possible for him to place a delayed-action infernal +machine in the hold of the <I>West Barbican</I> when she was loading up at +Brocklington. But he had not an intimate knowledge of the construction +of the ship, and he feared to take drastic steps without being certain +of his surroundings. Nor did he wish to immolate dozens of passengers. +</P> + +<P> +The majority of the latter would be leaving the ship either at Cape +Town or Durban, so their departure would ease the situation as far as +the remnants of his conscience were concerned. +</P> + +<P> +He decided, therefore, to go as far as South Africa as a passenger on +the <I>West Barbican</I>. During the voyage he could obtain a good +knowledge of the ship's routine, and the accessibility or otherwise of +the holds and bunkers. Then, before leaving the ship at Durban, he +could "plant" his high-explosive bomb and send the <I>West Barbican</I> to +her doom. +</P> + +<P> +It was an easy matter to convey the explosives on board. The customs +officers at British ports are vigilant enough in connection with +homeward-bound passengers' baggage, but not so in the case of departing +ships. No one paid any attention to the dark-red, cloth-bound book +that Mr. Porter carried under his arm. It never occurred to Ludwig +Schoeffer that it was hardly fair to a book to be carried so openly on +a damp, foggy day. +</P> + +<P> +Outwardly it was a book, but between the covers there were no leaves +except dummy edges. In the recess thus formed was four pounds of very +high explosive, sufficient to blow a hole completely through the steel +plating of a merchant-ship's hold. The explosive without a primer was +comparatively innocuous. It could be subjected to a severe blow +without detonating; fire had no effect upon it, except that it would +smoulder without bursting into flame. But when mixed with a solution +of potash the latent power was instantly and terrifically released. +</P> + +<P> +Until the bomb was prepared for action Schoeffer kept the glass tube +containing the potash separate from the main explosive. If necessary +he could easily explain the potash by saying it was medicine. +</P> + +<P> +The detonation of the infernal machine was actuated by a fairly simple +device. It was only necessary to smash the glass tube of potash; but +the point was: how could Schoeffer break the glass when he was away +from the ship? +</P> + +<P> +If anyone had had an opportunity of inspecting Mr. Porter's watch he +would certainly have been interested; for, in addition to the hours, +minutes, and seconds hands, the dial sported a hand that indicated the +days up to seven. But in place of numbers on the day circle there were +seven black dots. Each of these dots proved to be a small insulated +metal peg, capable of being raised until it projected a fraction of an +inch from the dial, yet sufficiently to hold up the hand. +</P> + +<P> +To complete the outfit there was a small eight-volt battery, which, on +a circuit being formed, would detonate a minute charge of explosive, +enough to smash the glass tube, liberate the potash, and cause the +desired catastrophe. By means of the watch Schoeffer could delay the +explosion from one to seven days after he had set the bomb in position. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Porter made rapid strides in forming acquaintances on board. He +was affable without being obtrusive; communicative up to a certain +point, without volunteering information; a good conversationalist +without boring his listeners. He took a keen interest in the officers, +the stewards, and even the lascars, but, in the course of conversation +with them, he rarely if ever asked questions concerning their +professional duties. +</P> + +<P> +One person in particular he cultivated. That was Wilkins, the +Captain's steward. Wilkins was a professional postage-stamp agent; he +bought large quantities of stamps in foreign parts on behalf of a +London firm. Mr. Porter was a keen amateur collector, and so a bond of +interest was formed. +</P> + +<P> +Since the facilities for encouraging conversation between passengers +and stewards are limited, Schoeffer found a convenient opportunity to +confer with Wilkins on the subject of postage stamps. The opportunity +occurred just before "lights out", the venue being the pantry. +</P> + +<P> +Schoeffer found that the subject of stamps afforded him a splendid +chance of gaining information concerning the Old Man. He knew that the +skipper kept the code-books in his cabin. Two of them—the <I>ABC</I> and +the <I>Telegraph Code</I>—were practically public property, but the third +was the private code of the Blue Crescent Line, by which the owners +telegraphed orders to their various ships. +</P> + +<P> +The German agent made no attempt to suborn the steward to "borrow" the +code-book. He preferred to work single-handed. It was infinitely +safer. But he soon discovered that Captain Bullock was a light sleeper +and that he was practically an abstainer from strong drink, except for +his regular "night-cap". +</P> + +<P> +One night the chance occurred. Wilkins had mixed the Old Man's grog. +His attention diverted for a minute, he was unaware that Mr. Porter had +dropped into the glass a cube resembling sugar but containing a +powerful narcotic quite devoid of taste. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir," remarked Wilkins, "I must push off and take this to the +skipper." +</P> + +<P> +With this gentle intimation the steward speeded his guest. He had +reasons for so doing. He had no desire to let even an affable +gentleman like Mr. Porter know that he was in the habit of helping +himself to the Old Man's whisky. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later Wilkins poured out another stiff glass of grog and +carried it to the skipper, leaving for his own consumption the glass +that Schoeffer had doped. +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes later the steward returned to the pantry, drunk the +doctored whisky, and spent the rest of the night in a state of +insensibility, in which condition he was found and befriended by the +Chief Steward. +</P> + +<P> +Returning to his cabin—a single-berth one on the port side—Schoeffer +closed the deadlight and drew a curtain over the jalousied door. At +twelve the electric lights in the passengers' cabins were switched off, +but that hardly troubled "Mr. Porter". An electric torch gave him all +the light he required. +</P> + +<P> +Two bells sounded. Cautiously Schoeffer switched off the torch, +undressed, and put on dark-coloured pyjamas and felt bedroom slippers. +Then, after listening to hear that no one was about, he stole silently +from his cabin. +</P> + +<P> +He guessed that the officer of the watch would be drinking cocoa in the +chartroom, and that the bridge would be deserted save for the native +quartermaster at the wheel. If he were intercepted, Schoeffer would +pose as a somnambulist and suffer himself to be led back to his cabin. +</P> + +<P> +But no one was about. Boldly yet stealthily he gained the bridge and +entered the skipper's cabin, confident that the Old Man was in a +drugged sleep. He would have had a nasty shock had he known that +Captain Bullock was merely drowsy and was aware of his presence. +</P> + +<P> +With the private code-book in his possession Schoeffer retraced his way +to his cabin. Luck was with him. Unseen and unheard he entered his +stateroom and closed the door. For the next two hours he was hard at +work carefully copying out cryptic letters, that in due course would +enable him to carry out his nefarious plans to perfection. He also +carefully committed to memory the instructions printed in the front of +the book relating to the procedure to be followed in sending and +receiving instructions by code. +</P> + +<P> +Again he sallied forth to the Captain's cabin and replaced the book. +What rather puzzled him was the fact that the Old Man was sleeping +naturally. His deep, regular breathing did not conform to the +suggestion that he was under the influence of a powerful drug. +</P> + +<P> +It was a disquieting discovery. He could not account for it. Perhaps, +he thought, Captain Bullock had something up his sleeve. Even the +satisfaction of having secured and made full use of the secret +code-book had much of its greatness shorn by the haunting dread of the +burly captain of the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Crossing the Line +</H3> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn." +</P> + +<P> +"Sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you by any chance use the owner's code-book during the middle +watch?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good; carry on." +</P> + +<P> +This was the brief conversation between the Captain and the Wireless +Officer. The Old Man had by some unaccountable intuition fostered the +idea that the code-book was the object of the intruder's presence. +Mostyn had a right to make use of it, and, before probing deeper into +the problem, Captain Bullock had questioned him. +</P> + +<P> +The skipper had a keen insight into human nature. In his official +capacity he had come into contact with hundreds, nay thousands, of +human beings for whose safety and welfare he, under Providence, was +responsible. Some were notables, the majority common-place +individuals, and not a few persons with unenviable reputations. He had +had on board escaping murderers, defaulting company promoters, +fraudulent trustees, absconding cashiers, and a variety of other +criminals from the "flash" cracksman to the common "lag". Professional +gamblers, sharpers, and pickpockets had passed his way on the broad +highway between Great Britain and the Dominion of South Africa. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock was generally very quick in "knowing his man". Rarely +was he mistaken in his speedy yet calculating judgment. Already he had +his Wireless Officer "sized up", and the verdict was favourable. Hence +Peter Mostyn's "No, sir," was sufficient. The Old Man knew that he had +spoken the truth and that he was not the mysterious intruder. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey, the officer of the watch, was likewise questioned. He, too, +was emphatic that he had not entered the Captain's cabin, nor had he +seen anyone doing so during the middle watch. +</P> + +<P> +For some days Captain Bullock pondered over the incident, blaming +himself for not having challenged the intruder. Then he began to let +the matter dwindle in importance, and by the time the ship reached Las +Palmas he had practically forgotten all about it. +</P> + +<P> +In fine, excessively hot weather the <I>West Barbican</I> approached the +Line. No tropical storm greeted her as she entered the once dreaded +Doldrums, that belt of calms which has yielded its powers of holding +ships captive for days on end, to the all-conquering steam and +internal-combustion engines. Rarely now is there a sailing-ship to be +sighted wallowing helplessly in the Doldrums, her decks and topsides +opening with the terrific heat, and her crew driven almost mad with the +torturing glare of the tropical sun. Auxiliary power has changed all +that, and even the huge, square-rigged ship engaged in trading round +the Horn is now equipped with a semi-Diesel capable of pushing her +along at a modest four or five knots in a calm. +</P> + +<P> +Preparations to pay the customary honours to Father Neptune were in +full swing on board the <I>West Barbican</I>. For days before the ship was +due to cross the Line all the officers and twenty-five per cent of the +passengers became temporary inquiry agents. Seemingly casual +conversation was entered into with the primary object of discovering +who had or who had not "crossed the Line". Within a few minutes of an +unguarded remark being made by a passenger to the effect that he had +not been in southern latitudes, that fact was duly recorded in a +notebook by the indefatigable Acting Chief Officer. Preston was a +veritable sleuth-hound in these matters, and already his "bag" was +assuming favourable proportions. +</P> + +<P> +Among the names recorded were those of Partridge and Plover. The two +Watchers had never heard of the time-honoured ceremony, and were in +utter ignorance of the ordeal through which they would have to pass. +Their lack of general knowledge, combined with a somewhat surly +reticence, had made them no friends on board. They kept to themselves, +hardly exchanging a word with anyone else except when duty compelled +them to speak. +</P> + +<P> +At length the eventful day arrived when the ship was due to cross the +parallel of maximum length. Soon after day-break eager lascars had +been employed in spreading a huge tarpaulin over a rectangular frame, +so as to form a large bath. At one end, facing the for'ard portion of +the promenade deck, a platform was erected and draped with bunting. +Behind locked doors officers off duty lurked in their cabins, +contriving weird and startling disguises for the Sea King's festival. +The donkey-engines were started—not with the idea of ejecting bilge +water, but for the purpose of pumping a copious supply of salt water +into the improvised tank. +</P> + +<P> +On the bridge Preston was "shooting the sun". Again and again he +levelled his sextant, until he was satisfied that the ship was within a +few miles of the Line. Then, hastily reporting the fact to the Old +Man, he disappeared down the companion-ladder to change with the utmost +speed into a wondrous garb comprised chiefly of a bathing-suit, +seaweed, and oyster-shells. Next, assisted by an individual who +resembled a cross between George Robey and Little Tich, and who was to +appear as the doctor, Father Neptune donned flowing locks and beard of +picked oakum, assumed a massive crown of tinsel, and grasped his +trident. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment the ship's siren gave a terrific blast. It was the +signal that Neptune's cortège had been sighted by the look out for'ard. +</P> + +<P> +The fo'c'sle and foremost shrouds were packed with eagerly +gesticulating lascars; native firemen squatted on the decks on either +side of the tank, and clung like flies to the stanchion-rails. On the +promenade deck all available camp-chairs had been pressed into service +and were occupied by excited passengers, trying to keep cool in vain, +in spite of the double awnings. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Captain Bullock, resplendent in white tropical uniform with +gilt buttons and shoulder-straps, descended from the bridge and took up +a position in the centre of the front row of crowded deck-chairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" roared a deep voice for'ard. "What ship is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"The S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>, of and from London," bawled the Old Man in +reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Then harkee, Skipper. Father Neptune demands entrance and the honour +due to his exalted rank." +</P> + +<P> +"Come aboard, sir," rejoined the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +Heralded by a fanfare from hand fog-horns, and a terrific din from a +variety of metal implements, begged, borrowed, or stolen from the +galley, Father Neptune appeared not exactly over but close to the bows. +Brandishing his trident he bellowed a nautical greeting, and proceeded +to assist his Queen through the limited space of the hatchway. It was +soon evident that the lady was in difficulties and a plainly audible, +"Steady on, old man," delivered in a very masculine voice, had the +effect of raising a boisterous chorus of laughter from the sightseers. +</P> + +<P> +Amphitrite, disentangled from the embraces of a catch on the +hatch-cover, appeared in her lord's wake, but the effect of her flowing +locks of golden hair and her deeply rouged face were somewhat marred by +the display of a pair of unmistakably masculine hands and feet. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor and the barber next struggled for publicity, each +questioning the other's right of precedence, with the result that each +contrived to get his head through the hatchway and no farther. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until the barber had converted the doctor's hat into a +concertina that the former contrived to make a complete appearance, +followed by the doctor, who, in his broad Scotch that betrayed him as +M'Turk the Chief Engineer, requested his companion "not to play the +fule beforr your time". +</P> + +<P> +Then came the bears—grotesquely garbed fellows recruited mainly from +the Chief Steward's department, but with the residue of the engineers +off duty to leaven the whole lump. Almost before King Neptune and his +Queen were seated upon their respective thrones the zealous bears had +scattered to rope in the victims of the revels. +</P> + +<P> +The first to be brought into the arena was Watcher Partridge. His +opposite number, scenting trouble, had deserted him, and was making his +way to the stokehold, hotly pursued by a couple of brawny bears. +</P> + +<P> +Partridge submitted sullenly. Without a word or act of protest he was +led before the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"Are ye no' weel, laddie?" inquired the doctor. "Open your mouth and +show your tongue." +</P> + +<P> +The bird obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +The next instant he was spluttering and coughing, for the doctor had +dexterously placed a pill, composed of the unholiest ingredients of the +engineers' stores, in the wide-open cavity. Still spluttering, he was +again seized by the attendant bears, blindfolded, and forced into the +barber's chair. +</P> + +<P> +The barber eyed the agitated Partridge dispassionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Hair cut or shave?" he inquired, and, receiving no reply, he seized +one of his razors, a formidable-looking instrument fashioned out of a +barrel stave. +</P> + +<P> +A few deft strokes and the deed was done. Partridge, released from the +chair, sprang to his feet amidst the delighted howls of the spectators. +One side of his face was streaked with Stockholm tar, the other with +red ochre. +</P> + +<P> +"Run for it!" exclaimed one of the bears, guiding the bewildered +Partridge towards the tank. The bird hopped it, trod on air as one +foot overstepped the narrow edge, and, with a sousing splash, he +plunged headlong into the water. +</P> + +<P> +He had barely time to gasp for breath when a bear ducked him. Thrice +this operation was repeated before the pie-bald Watcher was allowed to +escape, without even receiving King Neptune's congratulations upon +becoming a Son of the Sea. +</P> + +<P> +The while other victims were being attended to by the doctor and the +barber, and unceremoniously bundled into the tank. +</P> + +<P> +For the most part they accepted the situation with a good grace. In +the case of the passengers who had not crossed the Line before, certain +allowances had been made for them; nevertheless some were rather +rigorously handled before receiving their diplomas as Freemen of the +Seas. Since they had received short notice to the effect that it would +be as well if they "rigged out" to be in readiness for a ducking, they +took the hint, changing into bathing-costumes or any old clothes +obtainable. +</P> + +<P> +One passenger, a burly, six-feet-two individual, with huge biceps +showing up under the tight sleeves of his bathing-suit, certainly gave +the bears a run for their money; for, when they went to bring him to +Neptune's court, they found that he had put on a pair of boxing-gloves. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on!" he exclaimed, with a good-tempered laugh. "I'll take on the +whole crowd, Neptune included." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing loth, a plucky little bear stooped and rushed in to collar the +defiant passenger round the waist. The next instant he was sent +staggering into the arms of one of his companions, and the two +floundered on the deck, capsizing the barber and his two pots of ochre +and tar. +</P> + +<P> +"At him, lads!" roared Neptune, forgetting in his excitement that he +was playing the rôle of King of the Sea. +</P> + +<P> +Five or six bears rushed at the man from opposite sides. He waited +until they were almost on him, then, without the faintest sign of his +intention, dived straight at the feet of those on his right. +</P> + +<P> +There was weight and power behind those hunched shoulders. Three of +his assailants, swept off their feet, crashed to the deck, while their +comrades, unable to check the impetus of their rush, tumbled in a +confused heap upon the baffled, sprawling three. +</P> + +<P> +From under this struggling mob, like a porpoise in an angry sea, +emerged the stalwart passenger. Springing to his feet he dashed up the +ladder to the promenade-deck, cleared a way between the throng of +spectators, who cheered him heartily, and gained the boat-deck. +</P> + +<P> +For a while he paused to contemplate the sorting out of the discomfited +bears; then, finding his pursuers hard on his track, he scaled the side +of the wireless-cabin. On the roof he took up his stand. With his +broad back against the trunk of the aerial it looked as if he could +hold his own against all comers. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars were beside themselves with excitement. The passengers, +leaving the shelter of the double awnings, stood under the blazing sun, +straining their eyes in the dazzling glare as they watched the tactics +of their champion. +</P> + +<P> +"Lasso him, lads!" shouted Neptune, laying aside his trident and +preparing to take an active part in the subjugation of his recalcitrant +subject. +</P> + +<P> +Some of the bears hurried off to obtain ropes. Others waited by the +base of the wireless-cabin, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as the hot +sun played upon their scanty, wet garments. +</P> + +<P> +Just then another party of bears came for'ard dragging the luckless +Plover, whom they had captured in an empty bunker. +</P> + +<P> +The appearance of the second bird created a diversion. The bears +guarding the wireless-cabin, eager to witness the initiation of the +unpopular Plover, lost interest in the huge passenger on the roof. +</P> + +<P> +In a trice the latter slid down to the bridge, swung himself down by a +stanchion to the promenade-deck and thence to the enemies' camp—the +temporary court of Father Neptune. +</P> + +<P> +Hurling aside the doctor, who had already received rougher treatment +than he had meted out to his victims, the defiant subject of King +Neptune made a bull-like rush for that august monarch. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment they were at grips. In spite of wearing boxing-gloves +the stalwart passenger held Neptune tightly round the waist. The +latter strove with his sinewy hands to disengage himself from the +powerful embrace. In the struggle Neptune's tinsel crown slipped over +one eye and his tow-beard fell off, revealing the rugged features of +Acting Chief Officer Preston. +</P> + +<P> +For about thirty seconds the two men struggled furiously, yet the +keenest observer could detect no trace of bad temper. The adversaries +were sportsmen both, who knew how to keep themselves under control. +</P> + +<P> +With the sweat pouring in streams down their faces they continued +swaying and heaving. Both were of about the same weight and build. +Preston had the handicap of about ten years, but he was as fit as a +fiddle and hard as nails. +</P> + +<P> +Amphitrite had discreetly retired from the arena, while the bears, +unwilling to take an unfair advantage of their intended prey, stood in +a semicircle, impartially encouraging both adversaries. Even Captain +Bullock, who through long usage had become bored stiff with the +"crossing of the Line revels", was on his feet shouting excitedly at +the novel spectacle of Neptune being bearded in his den. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the unexpected climax happened. +</P> + +<P> +Before anyone could utter a warning or check the impetuous movement of +the two wrestlers, Preston was forced to the edge of the temporary +dais, which was on a level with the wire guard-rails. +</P> + +<P> +Probably his antagonist was blinded by the perspiration running into +his eyes, because he failed to see the danger resulting from his +headlong rush. +</P> + +<P> +Locked in each other's arms the two men disappeared over the side of +the ship. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-096"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-096.jpg" ALT="THE TWO MEN DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE OF THE SHIP" BORDER="2"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center"> +THE TWO MEN DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE OF THE SHIP +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Mostyn to the Rescue +</H3> + +<P> +For a brief instant the danger and suddenness of the catastrophe were +hardly realized. Assembled for a pageant the passengers were horrified +into silence by the unexpected turn of events. Then a woman shrieked, +and the spell was broken. Almost every one of the occupants of the +deck-chairs stood up and rushed to the side, shouting as if noise would +help the two men struggling for their lives. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars too seemed incapable of action. They flocked to the side +of the ship, and gazed seemingly without emotion into the deep-blue +water. +</P> + +<P> +At the shout of "Man overboard!" raised by Anstey, the officer of the +watch, Captain Bullock unceremoniously dashed between the groups of +bewildered passengers and gained the bridge. Even in his haste his +brain was solving a ready problem. Who was to go away in the lifeboat? +The Acting Chief was struggling for dear life in the "ditch". He could +swim well, as the Old Man knew, but after his strenuous wrestling bout +had he sufficient strength to keep afloat until picked up? Anstey, as +officer on duty, could not leave the bridge. There was one executive +officer short of the ship's complement, and as far as Captain Bullock +was aware, none of the engineers off duty was capable of managing a +boat, while a bungler at the tiller meant not only delay but probably +failure. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately the <I>secuni</I> in the wheelhouse had acted promptly, putting +the helm over to port in order to swing the ship's stern clear of the +men in the ditch, and thus avoid the danger of their being cut to +pieces by the propeller. They were now a good four hundred yards +astern, while between them and the ship was a line of lifebuoys thrown +with fine indiscrimination by the passengers. The nearest lifebuoy to +the two exhausted men was at least a hundred yards away. +</P> + +<P> +During the interrupted revels the <I>West Barbican</I> had reduced speed, +and already Anstey had rung down for "Stop". +</P> + +<P> +"Let go the lifeboat—away lifeboat's crew," bawled the Old Man, as he +moved the telegraph indicator to full speed astern; then, leaning over +the bridge rails, he hailed a grotesquely garbed figure standing +motionless and alert on the temporary dais: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn: take charge of the lifeboat." +</P> + +<P> +With a feeling of elation Peter rushed to carry out the order. This +time there was no question of it. The Old Man had spoken. It was a +tribute to the Wireless Officer's capabilities in a province that was +not strictly his own. +</P> + +<P> +Urged by the shrill cries of the serang and tindal of the watch the +lascars had now formed up on the boat-deck. Some had then their places +in the out-swung boat, while others stood by the falls ready to lower +away. +</P> + +<P> +Although the engines had been going full speed astern the <I>West +Barbican</I> was still forging ahead when Peter jumped into the +stern-sheets of the lifeboat. She was still carrying way when the +falls were disengaged and the boat pushed off from the ship's side. +</P> + +<P> +"Soft job this," soliloquized Mostyn. "The sea's calm, the water's +warm, and old Preston and the other fellow have got hold of the +lifebuoy. Tumbling into the ditch under these conditions is a +picnic—Hello, though—is it?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +To say the least of it, Preston was both surprised and indignant when +he found himself hurtling through space in the vice-like grip of his +antagonist. It was poor consolation to know that there was someone +else in the same predicament. What was particularly galling was the +fact that he, a veteran officer of the Mercantile Marine, should be +such an ass as to skylark and then fall overboard in so doing. +</P> + +<P> +These thoughts flashed through his mind during the time he dropped +through thirty odd feet of space between the deck of the ship and the +surface of the water. Then the terrific impact with the Atlantic Ocean +abruptly ended his reveries of self-reproach. +</P> + +<P> +To a certain extent it was fortunate that the two men remained +interlocked during their fall. Hunched up after the manner of a diver +doing a "honey-pot" from a spring-board they got off comparatively +lightly, although the impact was fairly severe, and had the effect of +depriving them of most of the scanty breath left after their strenuous +encounter. +</P> + +<P> +"The blighter will grip like grim death," thought Preston, as he sank +fathoms down; "I'll have a deuce of a job to shake him off." +</P> + +<P> +But the sudden immersion had the unexpected result that the men +mutually released their grip. Perhaps it was that both were good +swimmers and realized that the quickest way to refill their lungs with +air was to strike out for the surface. +</P> + +<P> +They emerged almost simultaneously, gasping and spluttering. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that way!" exclaimed Preston breathlessly, as his companion in +misfortune began striking out for the ship's side. "Mind the prop." +</P> + +<P> +The other realized the danger of being caught by the swiftly moving +blades of the screw, but even then it was only the prompt action of the +<I>secuni</I> at the wheel that saved him from being drawn into the vortex. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing to worry about," spluttered Preston, as the two bobbed like +corks in the quartering wave. "We'll be picked up all right. My aunt! +Look at them! Well, they might have chucked them on our heads." +</P> + +<P> +He referred to the injudicious volley of lifebuoys. Although the ship +was carrying way the passengers were still engaged in dumping the +Company's property into the sea. +</P> + +<P> +His companion laughed. Regaining his breath he was also regaining his +boisterous spirits, although he had to admit that the struggle, +followed by a thirty-odd foot fall had severely taxed his splendid +brawn and muscle. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look in your element, Preston," he remarked, "even though +you are Father Neptune." +</P> + +<P> +"Was," corrected the absentee Acting Chief Officer, proceeding to +relieve himself of the encumbrance of his scanty garb of trailing +seaweed and oyster-shells. "Come on; we may as well strike out for the +nearest of that line of lifebuoys. Breast stroke. There's no great +hurry, and it's less tiring." +</P> + +<P> +Although the passenger had gone overboard wearing boxing-gloves, that +had remained on his hands despite his wrestling bout, one had +disappeared during his submergence. Preston remarked on it. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," rejoined the other. "Might just as well hang on to this one, +although one's not much use. Cost me a couple of Bradbury's just +before we left England. I say, do you mind telling me this: I declare +I've crossed the Line without being initiated. Is that so?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is," replied Preston feelingly. "If you'd gone through the thing +tamely we wouldn't have been in the ditch. Why did you ask me?" +</P> + +<P> +By this time both men had swum to the nearest of the far-flung line of +lifebuoys, and, glad of the support, were hanging on lightly at +opposite sides of the buoyant "Kisbie". +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause I want corroboration. Last night Murgatroyd bet me a tenner I +wouldn't escape it. Have I won?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o, Preston!" was the delighted response. "I'll stand you a +dinner in the swankiest hotel in Adderley Street as soon as we arrive +at Cape Town. That's a deal. Hello! They're lowering a boat. What +are you looking at?" +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief Officer had seen the boat being swung out, and was +calculating how long it would take to reach the spot where the lifebuoy +was—calculating whether the boat's crew would find only an unoccupied +lifebuoy floating in a patch of blood-stained sea—for less than fifty +yards away was the black, triangular dorsal fin of an enormous shark. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing much," replied Preston, as calmly as he could, although the +strained expression of his eyes was sufficient to attract his +companion's curiosity. "Kick as hard as you jolly well can. Make a +splash." +</P> + +<P> +"Shark, eh?" exclaimed the co-partner of the life-buoy. "Right-o! I'm +having my money's worth this trip anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Splash, man, splash!" was Preston's only rejoinder. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, I guess I look a sketch," thought Mostyn, as he steered the +lifeboat towards the two men clinging to the buoy. +</P> + +<P> +He certainly did. Called away hurriedly, he still wore part of his +disguise as Amphitrite, Neptune's Queen. He had cast off his flowing +locks of tow, but his well-powdered face and a vivid patch of rouge on +either cheek looked absolutely grotesque. His costume of muslin (lent +by one of the lady passengers) had suffered horribly during his attempt +to squeeze through the hatch, while the trimmings of seashells and +seaweed added to the weird appearance of the young Wireless Officer. +To facilitate his movements Peter had "gathered in the slack" of his +trailing garments, since without assistance he could not tackle the +numerous safety-pins that his dresser had used in order to make sure +that "nothing would come adrift and carry away". +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, though—is it!" he reiterated, shading his eyes with his left +hand. +</P> + +<P> +Right in the glare reflected in the water his keen eyes had spotted a +tell-tale swirl. Then above the surface appeared an object that +settled his doubts. It was the dorsal fin of a shark. +</P> + +<P> +One of the lascars, looking over his shoulder, saw the danger too. He +raised a shrill cry that had the effect of startling his fellow-oarsmen +and putting them off their stroke. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Chup rao!</I>" (Shut up), shouted Peter sternly. "Pull like blue +blazes." +</P> + +<P> +"Blue blazes" was evidently a stranger to the lascars' vocabulary, but +they understood the word "pull" and guessed the significance of the +rest. +</P> + +<P> +Redoubling their efforts, they made the heavy boat travel rapidly +through the calm water; but Peter realized that if the shark attacked +with any promptitude the rescuers would be too late. He saw that +Preston and his companion in distress were doing the best thing they +could in the circumstances—making a violent splash. Whether the shark +would be scared away was a matter for speculation. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently the tiger of the deep was hungry. He was not devoid of +pluck, for he had begun to swim round and round the two men, the while +drawing nearer to the buoy. At any moment he might make a dart +straight for his victims. +</P> + +<P> +Peter knew this. He had seen a shark seize a South Sea Islander from a +crowd of natives splashing and shouting in the surf. He had seen +another monster seize and devour a dog within ten yards of a boat +putting off to the animal's rescue. +</P> + +<P> +There was no rifle in the lifeboat. In the Royal Navy they do things +differently from the Mercantile Marine. Peter had an automatic. It +was one of the things he took good care to provide himself with after +his experiences in S.S. <I>Donibristle</I>; but the weapon was locked up in +his cabin, and in the present circumstances it was like the Dutchman's +anchor. +</P> + +<P> +The boat was now a hundred yards from the life-buoy—the shark ten. +The brute was still circling, sometimes diving, sometimes showing its +head; but up to the present it had shown no sign of preparing to seize +its prey by turning on its back. +</P> + +<P> +A sudden inspiration flashed across Mostyn's mind. In the stern-sheets +of the lifeboat was a box containing amongst other things a Verey's +pistol. It was a weapon not of offence but for humane purposes. It +was fired by means of a cartridge, but, instead of a bullet, it sent up +a vivid coloured light to a height of about two hundred feet. +</P> + +<P> +Peter stooped and opened the lid of the box. Thank Heaven! The pistol +and cartridges were there. Deftly he opened the breech and thrust home +the cardboard cylinder containing the detonator and explosive light; +then, standing on the stern bench and steadying the tiller with one +foot, he levelled the short-barrelled weapon. +</P> + +<P> +For some seconds he waited. The shark in its orbit was immediately +between the lifebuoy and the boat. Preston and his companion were in +as much danger from the pistol as they were from the shark. +</P> + +<P> +The huge fish dived and soon reappeared, this time well to the left of +the buoy. It had partly turned on its back, and its wide-open jaws, +triple lines of pointed teeth, and greenish-white belly were clearly +visible, for by this time the whaler was less than twenty-five yards +away. +</P> + +<P> +It was now or never. The shark was preparing to make a dash for its +victims under the bows of the boat. +</P> + +<P> +Deliberately Peter pressed the trigger. He had to guess for elevation, +knowing nothing of the trajectory of the missile. His aim was good. +The rocket must have disappeared down the capacious maw of the shark, +for there was no sign of the fiercely burning rocket sizzling on the +surface. The satisfactory part of the business was that the shark +disappeared and was seen no more. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly the two men were hauled into the boat, both bordering on a +state of collapse. Then, ordering the lascars to give way, Mostyn +steered for the <I>West Barbican</I>, picking up the jettisoned lifebuoys on +the way. He was one who always finished a job properly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Unpopularity +</H3> + +<P> +A few days later Mostyn was having an easy time. He was on watch, but +with little to do. A notice-board on the promenade-deck furnished the +reason for his enforced inactivity: +</P> + +<P> +"S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>. To-day, in radio communication with <I>nil</I>. +To-morrow, radio communication expected with <I>nil</I>." +</P> + +<P> +The notice was painted with the exception of the two <I>nils</I>, which were +written in chalk. Placed for the convenience of passengers wishing to +send off private wireless messages, it duly recorded what ships and +shore stations were within radio range. In her present position in the +South Atlantic she was too far away to dispatch or pick up messages +from Cape Town, the radius of her wireless being limited to 240 miles +by day and almost thrice that distance by night. +</P> + +<P> +Peter had overhauled the set, and was taking the opportunity of writing +home. With his white patrol-coat unbuttoned and his <I>solar topee</I> +perched on the back of his head, he was making the best of things in +spite of the terrific heat and the attentions of numerous cockroaches. +</P> + +<P> +There were thousands of these insects all over the ship, ranging in +size from an eighth of an inch to nearly three inches in length. +Whilst the <I>West Barbican</I> was in home waters their presence was +invisible. They kept to the dark and inaccessible parts of the ship; +but directly the weather grew warmer, as the ship neared the Tropics, +they emerged fearlessly from their lairs and swarmed everywhere. By +this time the passengers had grown more or less accustomed to them, but +the early stages of the invasion of the living pests of the ship had +caused great consternation and indignation, especially on the part of +the ladies on board. +</P> + +<P> +In times of boredom, when the passengers were "fed up" with deck-quoits +and sweepstakes on the "day's run", the cockroaches would be pressed +into service to provide entertainment. A dozen or more would be +captured and placed on the deck, each having its own particular +"fancier" in a miniature race, and it was surprising to see with what +zest the passengers entered into the sport. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Peter heard a light footfall on the deck, followed by a +distinct knock upon the wide-open door of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Rising, Peter found that Olive Baird was standing outside the +brass-rimmed coaming. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Mr. Mostyn," she said. "Will you mind telling me if a +message can be sent to Cape Town? And how much per word, please?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry, Miss Baird," he replied, "we aren't in touch with any shore +station. We may possibly get the Cape Town one to-morrow night." +</P> + +<P> +At the back of his mind Peter found himself wondering why Miss Baird +hadn't gone to the trouble of reading the announcement on the +notice-board. He was rather glad she hadn't—perhaps she had purposely +ignored it. It gave him an opportunity of entering into conversation +with the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Already Anstey had found out quite a lot about Olive Baird. How, he +refused to divulge, but it was pretty certain that the girl had let out +little or nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Olive Baird was motherless. Her father had married again to a woman +only five years older than his daughter, and, instinctively scenting +domestic trouble in the near future, Olive had determined to earn her +own living—a task that she had already found to be far more difficult +than the cultured girl had imagined. +</P> + +<P> +Almost at the end of her resources—for she knew that she would receive +neither sympathy nor help from her estranged parent—Olive remembered a +distant relation, a girl but a few years older than herself, who had +married an official holding an appointment in the Kenya Colony. +</P> + +<P> +To her Olive wrote, asking if there might be any post open to her in +the district. Three months elapsed before the reply came—that there +was a warm welcome awaiting her. Enclosed was a banker's draft, +enough, and only enough, to pay for her passage out and to provide a +necessary and simple outfit. +</P> + +<P> +Before the <I>West Barbican</I> was many days out Mrs. Shallop, in one of +her few amiable moods, had asked the friendless and reserved girl if +she would, for a small remuneration, give her a couple of hours a day +for the purpose of reading to her. +</P> + +<P> +"My eyes aren't what they were," explained Mrs. Shallop. "And it's +deadly dull on this ship when I can't even read." +</P> + +<P> +So Olive thankfully accepted the post, because it helped her to pay her +way; and, even when Mrs. Shallop had her almost at her beck and call, +the girl did her best to keep on good terms with her. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before Olive found out the true nature of her supposed +benefactress. Mrs. Shallop was vain, boastful, and with no regard for +veracity. She was one of those persons who, having told the same fairy +tale over and over again, firmly believe that the lie is the truth. On +the other hand, her memory was defective, with the result that very +frequently her story had a totally different setting when told a second +or third time. In addition, she was bitingly sarcastic, and was never +known to say a good word about anyone but herself. +</P> + +<P> +So Olive had rather a rotten time. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was, however, absolutely loyal to her employer. In the course +of conversation with other passengers she was careful not to say a word +that might be detrimental to Mrs. Shallop. Evidently that lady thought +she might, for Argus-like she kept a strict watch upon her. +</P> + +<P> +The Shallops had taken "Round Trip" tickets. These were issued by the +Blue Crescent Line, and guaranteed a voyage of not less than three +months. If by any chance, as was frequently the case, the voyage was +prolonged, the holder of the ticket scored, for he or she was +maintained at the Company's expense until the ship returned home or the +passengers transferred to another vessel of the Company's bound for +England. +</P> + +<P> +Olive Baird's employers had made a heap of money during the Great War, +and were now doing their best to spend it. Nevertheless, they wanted +value for their outlay, and the round trip in the <I>West Barbican</I> +pointed that way. Mr. Shallop was not keen on the voyage. It was his +wife who insisted upon it, mainly because it was "the thing" to travel, +and it would be an easy matter on their return to give out that they +had gone on a palatial P. & O. mail-boat. It sounded grander than the +Blue Crescent Line. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the heat was beginning to tell upon the portly Mrs. +Shallop. There were actually long intervals in which her strident +voice failed to lacerate the ears of her fellow-passengers. +</P> + +<P> +This was one of them. Wanting to do "the thing" and send a wireless +message to her sister in Cape Town, Mrs. Shallop was too fatigued to +mount the bridge-ladder; her husband had sheepishly slunk away to the +smoking-room, and only Olive was available to undertake the commission. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to have interrupted you," remarked Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all; don't mention it," protested Peter; then, in an outburst +of candour, he added: "You haven't seen our wireless-room." +</P> + +<P> +"I should love to," rejoined Olive, who had the modern girl's leanings +towards anything of a scientific nature. "I always wanted to see what +it was like and how it worked, but I didn't like to ask you." +</P> + +<P> +Without more ado Mostyn proceeded to explain the mysteries of that +steel-walled house, unconsciously launching out into an intricate +technical lecture on wave-lengths, atmospherics, induced current, valve +and spark-gaps, until Olive was quite bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing doing," he remarked, after the girl had placed the +telephone ear-pieces to her shapely ears. "We're too far away from +land. But I'll disconnect the aerial and let you see a ripping spark." +</P> + +<P> +"Another time, Mr. Mostyn," demurred Olive. "Mrs. Shallop will wonder +what I've been doing." +</P> + +<P> +Calling silent maledictions upon the head of the tartar, Peter escorted +the girl to the head of the bridge-ladder, extorting a promise that she +would pay another visit to the wireless-cabin when the ship got within +radiographic range. +</P> + +<P> +"Or earlier if you like," he added. +</P> + +<P> +He watched her disappear from sight and slowly made his way back to the +cabin. Somehow the home-letter proceeded slowly and disjointedly. He +was thinking of the jolly little girl who took such an interest in +wireless. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Peter! If he had only known how he had tired her almost to the +verge of boredom. +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes after Miss Baird's departure Mostyn "got busy". Away to +the starboard a vessel was calling CQ. The note was very faint and +considerably hampered by atmospherics. +</P> + +<P> +He was still endeavouring to tune in to the correct wave-length when he +was interrupted by a vigorous punch between the shoulder-blades. Over +his shoulder he saw that the interrupter was Mrs. Shallop. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was rather more than annoyed by the interruption. He was angry. +There was no denying that he possessed a temper, but he had usually the +happy knack of keeping his feelings well under control. In the present +circumstances he felt inclined to expostulate vehemently. +</P> + +<P> +For one thing, he had a rooted dislike for the woman. For another, she +had no right to be on the bridge, unless for the purpose of sending off +a message or by the skipper's permission. Neither reason held just +then. The wireless-cabin was closed for private transmission; she had +not obtained the Old Man's sanction to be on the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +The fact that Miss Baird had been on that spot only a few minutes +previously hardly entered into Mostyn's calculations. Unconsciously he +had allowed himself to be influenced by personal considerations, and he +had forgotten that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the +gander. +</P> + +<P> +With a deprecatory gesture of his left hand Mostyn attempted to convey +the impression that he was busy. His attention had to be concentrated +on the CQ message if he were to understand its import. It was +difficult enough, without his being hampered by external interruptions. +</P> + +<P> +One would have thought a hint sufficient. Not a bit of it! Mrs. +Shallop was one of those hidebound, overbearing individuals who +expected immediate and subservient attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you refuse to send off my message?" she demanded, in her loud, +grating voice. "You put Miss Baird off with a trivial excuse, but that +won't work with me, young man. Isn't my money as good as anyone +else's? Don't you know that I'm the daughter of a naval——" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn removed the telephones and stood up. There was an ominous glint +in his eyes. His forbearance was nearing the breaking-point. +</P> + +<P> +"I can only refer you to the notice-board on the promenade-deck," he +said. "That and the intimation that passengers are forbidden on the +bridge except with the Captain's permission. If you have any cause for +complaint, please report to Captain Bullock. I must ask you to leave +the wireless-cabin at once." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Shallop recoiled as if she had received a blow on the face. She +had expected no opposition. The quiet, decisive, and deliberate tones +of the young Wireless Officer had completely taken the wind out of her +sails. +</P> + +<P> +Without a word she turned and made straight for the Old Man's cabin, +bursting in like a tornado. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock was being shaved by his servant. The sudden and +unexpected entrance of the tartar caused Wilkins's attention to wander, +with the result that a crimson streak discoloured the lather on the +skipper's chin. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock had, according to his usual custom, decided to remove +his beard when approaching the Cape, and the operation was well +advanced when Mrs. Shallop intruded at a very inopportune moment. +</P> + +<P> +She failed to recognize the skipper shorn of his beard and with his +face plastered with soap. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the Old Man?" she demanded heatedly. +</P> + +<P> +What was the exact nature of Captain Bullock's reply Mostyn was unable +to hear. With his mouth full of soap and his chin bleeding profusely +the Old Man's articulation was a trifle confused; but he certainly did +let himself go, with the result that the interrupter, in spite of her +oft-reiterated claim to be a lady, was unceremoniously requested to +remove herself to a region considerably warmer than the skipper's +cabin, the temperature of which was registering 130° in the shade. +</P> + +<P> +Chuckling to himself, Peter saw the discomfited Mrs. Shallop descend +the bridge-ladder with more haste than dignity; then he tried, but in +vain, to pick up the interrupted CQ signal. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain Sahib him want you, sahib," announced Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn promptly obeyed the summons. He too was rather surprised at the +alteration effected by the removal of the skipper's beard, the newly +shaven portion contrasting forcibly with the brick-red tan of the rest +of his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," began the Captain, "what was that old barge doing in the +wireless-cabin?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter explained. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man nodded eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"You did the right thing, my boy," he remarked "I've had enough—more +than enough—of that impossible woman. I told her that in future she +is not to come on the bridge on any pretext whatsoever. If she wants +to send a message, let her; but she must do so in writing and submit it +to me before it is passed. That'll clip her wings. All right, Mr. +Mostyn, carry on." +</P> + +<P> +Peter carried on until relieved by Watcher Plover. The latter was +improving considerably, although he could never become an operator. He +lacked the education and intelligence necessary for the work, but by +this time he was able to discriminate between various signals and to +know the Morse call for the ship. Consequently Peter's watch below was +not subject to numerous and unnecessary interruptions. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Sparks!" exclaimed Preston, as Mostyn blew into the +smoking-room. "So you've been up against it this time. Tell us all +about it." +</P> + +<P> +There were about half a dozen passengers, the Acting Chief Officer, and +two of the engineers off duty passing a pleasant hour. All seemed +eager to know full particulars of the encounter. +</P> + +<P> +"She's an unmitigated nuisance," declared an artist, proceeding to +Natal in order to paint some frescoes for one of the important +buildings. "We'll all be reduced to nervous wrecks before we see the +last of her. Can't we choke her off?" +</P> + +<P> +"For Heaven's sake don't, old chap," protested Comyn, his cabin-mate, a +tall, lean-faced, literary man. "I bear the brunt of it. Every +morning I get a dose of it until I know every shred of her personal +history in spite of the fact that the details vary as consistently as +does the ship's position. It is priceless. I revel in it. Wouldn't +miss it for worlds; I encourage her, in fact." +</P> + +<P> +"'Tany rate," interposed Alderton grimly, "she called you a lanky +reptile." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," rejoined the unruffled author. "If it comes to that, she +said you were a little worm. There's no end of fun making out that you +believe all Mrs. Shallop tells you. It's a little gold mine." +</P> + +<P> +"For you, perhaps," added Preston. "However, I guess the Old Man has +upset her apple-cart. We won't hear her bell-like notes again in a +hurry." +</P> + +<P> +But he was mistaken. Into the smoke-laden atmosphere wafted the +strident voice of the lady under discussion. She was venting her wrath +upon Olive Baird. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Hot Work in No. 1 Hold +</H3> + +<P> +The S.S. <I>West Barbican</I> was within a couple of days of Cape Town. The +weather, although still warm, had lost much of the sweltering heat, +thanks to the influence of the Trades. +</P> + +<P> +The ship was rolling badly. For the last ten days she had been on her +best behaviour in that respect; but now she was making up for lost +time. There was a high sea running, and the ship's alley-ways to the +saloon were ankle-deep in water. +</P> + +<P> +With the glass falling rapidly the seas increased in violence. It was +evident that the <I>West Barbican</I> would receive a heavy dusting within +the next few hours. +</P> + +<P> +"Hanged if I like the look of things, Preston," admitted Captain +Bullock, sniffing the approaching storm from afar. "We're in for +something." +</P> + +<P> +"We are, sir," agreed the Acting Chief. "And I'm not altogether +satisfied with that steelwork. Bad enough cargo at any time, but I've +an idea something's working adrift in No. 1 hold. I'll get Anstey to +have a look at it." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man concurred. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell the serang to warn the lascars," he added. "We don't want broken +limbs and all that sort of thing." +</P> + +<P> +At an order a party of lascars assembled for the purpose of securing +any of the cargo that might have broken adrift. Presently Anstey, +wearing sea-boots, made his way along the lurching deck. He was not at +all keen on this particular job. Hounding about in the semi-darkness +of the hold and in momentary danger of being crushed by a mass of +shifting metal was not a pleasing outlook. But it was duty, and Anstey +was not a shirker. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars cast off a portion of the tarpaulin and removed the +aftermost of the metal hatches, disclosing the rusty coaming and the +upper portion of a vertical ladder of iron—or, to be more precise, a +ladder that was nominally vertical. In present conditions it was +swaying with the ship, and describing an erratic curve with a maximum +heel of twenty degrees. +</P> + +<P> +Steadying himself by the coaming, Anstey felt with his left foot for +the topmost rung. Then, gripping the sides of the ladder, he began the +descent. +</P> + +<P> +Very little daylight found its way into the narrow space afforded by +the displaced hatch. In fact Anstey soon found himself in gloom +approaching total darkness. The air too, after being confined for +weeks, was dank and distinctly unwholesome. There was an acute smell +from the fumes given off from the red oxide with which the steelwork +had been coated. +</P> + +<P> +With his rubber-soled boots slithering on the slippery rungs as the +vessel rolled, and gripping strongly with both hands, the Third Officer +descended until at length his feet came in contact with the metal floor +of the hold. The din was terrific. Without, the seas were hammering +on the comparatively thin hull-plating. Bilge-water was foaming and +hissing in the cellular bottom, while the vibration of the engines—the +noise intensified in the confined space—added to the turmoil. +</P> + +<P> +To these noises Anstey paid scant heed. He was listening intently to a +metallic sound, which told him that Preston's precautions had not been +taken in vain. Somewhere in the for'ard part of the hold there was a +regular metallic thud. It came from a mass of metal that had worked +loose from the securing chains. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey's first intention was to order a couple of lascars below. +</P> + +<P> +"May as well do the jolly old job myself," he soliloquized, on second +thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Fumbling in his pocket he produced his electric torch. For some +minutes he was dazzled by the blinding glare. Then, as his eyes grew +accustomed to the light, he could form a good idea of the difficulties +of his surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +He was standing in a narrow fore-and-aft passage. The walls consisted +of red-painted girders piled up to a height of ten feet on either side +of him. Although secured by chains and upright steel bars they +presented a formidable appearance, as alternately each wall towered +obliquely over his head, the whole mass straining and groaning at its +lashings like a Titan striving to burst his bonds. +</P> + +<P> +Staggering along the narrow passage, for the erratic movement of the +hold was totally different from the heave and pitch to which Anstey was +accustomed on deck, the Third Officer made his way cautiously forward, +critically examining the metal gripes that secured the awkward cargo. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he stopped. A cold perspiration stood out on his forehead. +Danger, imminent danger, stared him in the face. Danger not only to +himself but to the ship and her passengers and crew. +</P> + +<P> +Three feet above his head a huge girder was chattering and quivering. +The chain that secured it to its fellows had at one time been set up by +a massive bottle screw. Possibly the thread was an easy one, but, in +any case, the constant working of the ship had caused the bottle screw +to "run back". It was now holding by a couple of threads at the most, +and momentarily the securing chain might fly asunder. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey realized what that meant. The fifty-ton girder would crush and +pulp him to a jelly. Not only that; it would to a certainty start the +bottom plates of the hull and shatter the bulkheads of No. 1 hold as +well. That meant that the <I>West Barbican</I> would plunge like a stone to +the bed of the Atlantic. +</P> + +<P> +Thrusting the barrel of his torch under the strap of his peaked cap, +Anstey replaced the headgear, jamming it on so that the peak was over +his right ear. That gave him a direct light to work with. +</P> + +<P> +Then, pulling out the marline-spike of his knife, and holding it +between his teeth, Anstey began to scale the precarious wall of steel +until he could tackle the almost disjointed bottle screw. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed an eternity climbing that five or six feet. To his agitated +mind it seemed as if the girders were already slipping bodily upon him. +As his toes sought an insecure hold he could feel the steelwork +trembling. With each lurch of the vessel to starboard the bottle screw +strained, until the young officer felt certain that the last two +threads had stripped and the last restraining bonds had been loosed. +</P> + +<P> +At last he found himself in a position to tackle his task. With one +foot resting on a girder on one side of the passage, and the other on +the opposite side, and steadying himself as best he could with his left +hand, Anstey inserted the point of the marline-spike in the slot of the +bottle screw. +</P> + +<P> +Then he began to turn the locking device, slowly and firmly. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-128"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-128.jpg" ALT="HE BEGAN TO TURN THE LOCKING DEVICE, SLOWLY AND FIRMLY" BORDER="2"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center"> +HE BEGAN TO TURN THE LOCKING DEVICE, SLOWLY AND FIRMLY +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +At first he was seized with the terrifying idea that the threads were +not gripping. With the torch in his cap throwing its rays erratically +with every movement of his head, Anstey felt convinced that his efforts +were in vain. +</P> + +<P> +He went on turning and turning, barking his knuckles as the tapering +spike slipped again and again. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he +saw that the ends of the threaded bolts had reappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Even as he looked, the torch slipped from his cap and clattered to the +metal floor. The hold was plunged into darkness. +</P> + +<P> +His first impulse was to make for the open air. In the darkness the +difficulties of working in the place were redoubled. It required a +determined effort to force himself to his incompleted task. +</P> + +<P> +Solely by sense of touch he carried on, until he had the joy of feeling +the reunited ends of the threaded bars. That part of the business was +finished until next time, he decided. +</P> + +<P> +Regaining the floor, he felt his way between the piled-up girders until +his hand came in contact with the ladder. Twenty-five feet above his +head he could see a rectangular patch of light, one edge broken by the +heads and shoulders of half a dozen lascars. +</P> + +<P> +Up the ladder Anstey swarmed, drinking in copious draughts of the pure, +salt-laden air. +</P> + +<P> +But his task was incomplete. He must make sure that everything in No. +1 hold was secure. +</P> + +<P> +"Thatcher, old son," he exclaimed, as he encountered one of the junior +engineers. "Lend me your torch, there's a good sort. I've scuppered +mine." +</P> + +<P> +Thatcher fumbled in the pocket of his dungarees. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are, you careless blighter," he replied. "Skylarking, I +suppose? Well, take care of my gadget, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Again Anstey descended the hold and completed his survey. The clang of +shifting steel had ceased. +</P> + +<P> +When, after an hour's absence, he regained the bridge, Preston was not +to be seen, but the skipper spotted the dishevelled youth and sung out +to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" queried the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"All correct, sir," reported Anstey. "The——" +</P> + +<P> +"Good," rejoined the Captain, without waiting for the Third's +explanation. "Carry on." +</P> + +<P> +Anstey turned away to "carry on". It was his watch below. The job in +No. 1 hold was merely an extra. He was still feeling the effects of +his desperate efforts in the confined space, and the idea of turning in +before he had had a "breather" did not appeal to him. +</P> + +<P> +On the lee side of the bridge he encountered Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, old thing," was Peter's greeting. "What have you been up to? +You look a bit green about the gills." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing much," replied Anstey. "Just been giving an eye to your +father's ironmongery. Yes, it's all right. Got a cigarette? My case +is down below. Thanks awfully." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Decoy Wireless +</H3> + +<P> +The <I>West Barbican's</I> stay at Cape Town was of short duration. She +landed about a score of her passengers and a small quantity of cargo, +coaled, and proceeded, giving Peter little opportunity of a closer +acquaintance with the oldest city of South Africa. +</P> + +<P> +He was fairly busy during the run round to Durban, since the ship was +within wireless range both of Cape Town and the seaport of Natal. +Consequently he spent most of his waking hours in the wireless-cabin, +rather than have to be continually called by Partridge and Plover. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>West Barbican</I>, having spent a night at anchor under the Bluffs at +Durban, proceeded alongside the quay to disembark the bulk of her +passengers and a considerable amount of cargo. +</P> + +<P> +It was here that "Mr. Porter" severed his personal acquaintance with +the ship, although his interest in the <I>West Barbican</I> did not in the +least degree wane. On the contrary it was rapidly increasing. +</P> + +<P> +With a Kaffir porter carrying his portmanteau and suit-case von +Schoeffer passed along the gangway and gained terra firma. He had +found no suitable place in which he could secrete his explosives, nor +had he an opportunity for so doing; so the only course that remained +open, short of dumping the stuff into the sea, was to take it ashore +with him. +</P> + +<P> +He anticipated no difficulty in passing the Customs. None of the +officials would detect in the harmless-looking slab that resembled +sheet-glue one of the strongest explosives possible to obtain. They +were "traveller's samples" and as such were allowed duty free. +</P> + +<P> +So within ten minutes of leaving the <I>West Barbican</I> Ludwig Schoeffer +was bowling along in a rickshaw, drawn by a huge, muscular Zulu "boy", +en route for a small hotel that overlooked the harbour. +</P> + +<P> +On the following day Schoeffer's explosive, with the detonator timed +for its maximum limit, was stored in No. 3 hold of the S.S. <I>West +Barbican</I>, as one of the twenty odd cases of hardware consigned by the +well-known firm of Van der Veld to Senhor Perez Bombardo of Beira. +</P> + +<P> +Simply but effectively disguised, Schoeffer saw the crate whipped on +board and lowered into the hold. So far so good. It looked as if he +were certain of success. He chuckled as he conjured up a mental +picture of the head director of the Pfieldorf Company handing over a +substantial cheque. +</P> + +<P> +During the rest of the <I>West Barbican's</I> stay at Durban, Ludwig +Schoeffer lay low. For the present he had done all that was necessary. +His deep-laid scheme was progressing favourably. +</P> + +<P> +His idea was to signal the ship by means of wireless and, by spurious +authority, order her to Rangoon. It was not unusual for ships of the +Blue Crescent Line to receive unexpected orders when on the high seas, +since they held roving commissions once they were round the Cape and +had landed their mails. +</P> + +<P> +And, since it would take longer than the seven days to make Rangoon, +the <I>West Barbican</I> would end her career mysteriously in mid-Indian +Ocean. +</P> + +<P> +At ten one morning the <I>West Barbican</I> stood out to sea bound for Beira +and Pangawani, at which latter place she was to land the consignment of +steelwork for the Kilba Protectorate. +</P> + +<P> +At four the same afternoon Schoeffer walked into the offices of the +wireless company at Durban. +</P> + +<P> +"I want this message sent to the <I>West Barbican</I>," he announced, +handing in a form written in code—the private code of the Blue +Crescent Line. +</P> + +<P> +The clerk accepted the form without demur. He had no idea of its +meaning, nor had he any way of finding out. Not that he wanted to. +Messages in code were the rule rather than the exception. +</P> + +<P> +The message as received and ultimately sent off by the shore operator +was as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"SW. TLB. FEW. CNI. TLXQ. VP AELB TNI PU. AEMQ". +</P> + +<P> +Ludwig Schoeffer paid the eighteen shillings demanded and obtained a +receipt. Then, having got an assurance that the message would be +dispatched within an hour, he wished the clerk good afternoon and +walked briskly to the waiting rickshaw. +</P> + +<P> +The bogus message read, when decoded: +</P> + +<P> +"I have received telegraphic instructions from your owners for you to +proceed straight to Rangoon, where you will unload steelwork, +proceeding thence to Port Sudan". +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Difference of a Dot +</H3> + +<P> +"Hello, Sparks; you look a bit off colour?" +</P> + +<P> +This was Dr. Selwyn's greeting as Mostyn, having handed over the watch +to Plover, walked into the doctor's cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel it, Doc," replied Peter. "Touch of the old complaint—malaria." +</P> + +<P> +Selwyn had detected the symptoms the moment the Wireless Officer showed +his face inside the door. Peter was trembling violently. He was +feeling horribly cold, and his head was aching badly. +</P> + +<P> +"Taken any quinine?" asked the medical man. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the reply. "My ears are buzzing already." +</P> + +<P> +"Then turn in," ordered Selwyn. "I'll make you up a draught. Keep as +warm as you jolly well can. This will make you perspire freely before +midnight, and you'll be fit by this time to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +Peter waited while the doctor made up the medicine, and then staggered +to his cabin, where Mahmed, greatly concerned, helped his master into +bed and piled blankets and a bridge-coat upon his shivering body. +</P> + +<P> +It was now one bell in the first dog watch. +</P> + +<P> +At two bells Peter was still awake and trembling with cold spasms when +Watcher Plover hurriedly entered the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Plover had no idea that Mostyn was down with malaria, and it was not +unusual for him to find Peter lying on his bunk when off duty. +</P> + +<P> +"Call for the ship, sir," he reported. "No bloomin' error this time. +SVP as sure's my name's Plover." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn kicked off the blankets and rolled out of the bunk. He +staggered as he stood up, and would have been glad of Plover's +assistance. But the Watcher, having delivered his message, had gone +back to his post. +</P> + +<P> +With a terrific buzzing in his ears Peter almost dragged himself along +the alleyway and up the bridge-ladder. Many a time he had regretted +the absence of a second wireless officer. Now, above everything, he +wanted an efficient substitute; but, of course, none was available. +</P> + +<P> +Entering the wireless-cabin, he picked up the telephones and gave the +acknowledgment. Then, a pencil in his trembling hand, he waited for +the text of the message to come through: +</P> + +<P> +"SW. TLB. FEW. CNI. TLXQ. VP AELD TNI PU. AEMQ". +</P> + +<P> +Yes, Peter had that all right, but, ever on the cautious side, he asked +for the message to be repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are," he said, handing the duplicate message to his +assistant. "Nip off with that to Captain Bullock." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you look rummy, sir?" remarked Plover, noting for the first time +Mostyn's drawn features. +</P> + +<P> +"Am a bit," admitted Peter. "I'll be all right by the morning. Skip +along." +</P> + +<P> +Watcher Plover "skipped along" at his usual stolid pace to the Old +Man's cabin, while Peter, almost incapable of controlling his trembling +limbs, somehow contrived to regain his bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Signal just come through, sir," reported Plover, as he handed the +pencilled form to the skipper. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," replied the Old Man brusquely. "Hand me that book; the +second on the left. That'll do, carry on." +</P> + +<P> +It did not take Captain Bullock long to decode the message, but a frown +of perplexity spread over his forehead as he read the momentous words. +</P> + +<P> +Then he rang the bell and ordered Plover to return. +</P> + +<P> +"Who received this?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn, sir; he had the signal repeated." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. You may go." +</P> + +<P> +The assurance that the Wireless Officer had personally taken down the +code message removed all doubts from Captain Bullock's mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Preston," he sang out. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, sir," +</P> + +<P> +"Fresh orders," announced the Old Man. "Here you are: 'I have received +telegraphic instructions from your owners for you to proceed straight +to Bulonga, where you will unload steelwork, proceeding thence to Port +Sudan'. Bring me the chart of the Mozambique coast, Preston, and let's +see where we are—and the sailing directions while you are about it." +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief hastened to fetch the required articles. +</P> + +<P> +"Bulonga—that's in Mozambique," commented the Old Man. "What the +blazes the Kilba Protectorate people want to have the steelwork dumped +there for goodness only knows. However, it's my place to carry out +instructions, Mr. Preston." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, sir," concurred the Acting Chief without enthusiasm. He had +no love for the Portuguese East African ports. A long spell there +meant mosquitoes; mosquitoes meant malaria and other evils in its +train. And there was simply nothing to see or do in these ports. +Preston had "had some" before to-day. +</P> + +<P> +"They give no reason for the alteration, sir?" he inquired. "I suppose +by any chance we haven't got the signal incorrectly?" +</P> + +<P> +"No reason, Mr. Preston," replied Captain Bullock. "And here is the +signal in duplicate. Mostyn took that precaution, so I can stake my +boots on its accuracy." +</P> + +<P> +The two officers spent some time in poring over the chart and reading +up the description of Bulonga harbour and its approaches, as set down +in the Admiralty sailing directions for the east coast of Africa. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll be a tight squeeze for our draught," commented the skipper. +"It'll mean a Portugee pilot, worse luck. I know those gentry of old. +I hope there's a British agent there to take over the Brocklington +Company's consignment." +</P> + +<P> +Had Captain Bullock known that Peter was down with a severe bout of +malaria he would not have wagered his footgear so readily, for Mostyn +had made a mistake in taking in the signal. More, he had duplicated +the mistake when he received the repetition at his own request. +</P> + +<P> +With his head buzzing like a high-pressure boiler Peter had read D +(—..) for B (—...), his temporarily disordered sense of hearing +failing to detect the slight but important difference. +</P> + +<P> +Consequently, instead of the <I>West Barbican</I> shaping a course for +Rangoon, which in the code signal appeared as AELB, she was making for +the comparatively unimportant harbour of Bulonga (AELD). +</P> + +<P> +The while Ludwig Schoeffer's seven-day watch was silently ticking out +the seconds, minutes, and hours in the <I>West Barbican's</I> baggage hold. +The German agent was sublimely ignorant of the change in the ship's +plans. He was still at Durban, awaiting the news that the <I>West +Barbican</I> was overdue and believed missing. He would have been +considerably surprised had he known that there was every likelihood of +the ship sinking in Bulonga Harbour, where at low tide she would have +barely enough water to lie alongside the quays. +</P> + +<P> +If he had only known the vital difference that the omission of a "dot" +in the spurious signal was to cause! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Peter's Progress +</H3> + +<P> +Peter Mostyn's attack lasted a full twenty-four hours, but at seven the +next evening he felt well enough to go down to dinner in the saloon. +</P> + +<P> +That function had become a mere shadow of its former self. On the run +to Cape Town the chairs round the long tables were generally filled, +once the passengers had grown accustomed to life afloat and had +regained their temporarily lost appetites. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the saloon looked almost deserted. Captain Bullock was in his +customary place at the head of the table, most of the officers not on +duty were present—a mere handful all told. Of the passengers only +eight remained. Of these, five were to be landed at Beira and taken on +to their destinations by a "Bullard" boat. The remaining three were +Mr. and Mrs. Shallop and Olive Baird. +</P> + +<P> +Since Mrs. Shallop's encounter with the skipper she had fought shy of +the saloon when the Old Man was present, and was in the habit of having +her evening meal in the seclusion of her cabin. Although this +arrangement was contrary to the Company's rules and regulations Captain +Bullock winked at it; the rest of the saloon congratulated themselves, +and even Shallop, away from the disturbing influence of his wife's +presence, seemed a different man. In fact, on several occasions his +dry and somewhat humorous remarks set everyone laughing. +</P> + +<P> +The temporary retirement of Mrs. Shallop had given Olive much more +leisure. At first the selfish woman had tried her level best to compel +the girl to share her self-imposed seclusion, but Olive had firmly +declined to submit. She had already endured considerable discomfort on +her employer's behalf, and had borne the almost continuous "nagging" +without a murmur; but now the breaking-strain had been exceeded, and +the bullying woman had to admit defeat. +</P> + +<P> +Consequently Peter saw Olive a good deal. They were firm pals. There +was nothing sloppishly sentimental about the girl. She was merely a +jolly little person emerging from the temporary cloud of reserve caused +by the depressing influence of the naval captain's daughter. +</P> + +<P> +She had been fully initiated into the mysteries of the wireless-room; +she had taken equal interest in the complicated machinery of the +engine-room; and, since leaving Cape Town, Captain Bullock had given +her permission to go on the bridge whenever she wished. She had coaxed +Anstey into showing her how to "shoot the sun" and to use the <I>Nautical +Almanac</I> in order to work out the ship's position. Even the <I>secuni</I> +in the wheelhouse so far forgot his duty as to allow the Missie Sahib +to take the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +But undoubtedly her interest was keenest in sailing. Both Preston and +Anstey had promised to give her a run in one of the <I>West Barbican's</I> +sailing-boats while the ship was at Durban. This promise they +severally performed, but to a certain extent the beat to windward and +the run home on the spacious but shallow water of the harbour was a +disappointment to Olive—since neither man had offered to let her take +the tiller. +</P> + +<P> +Dinner over—Peter had very little appetite—Olive Baird went on deck, +and somehow, whether by accident or design, Mostyn found her standing +on the starboard side of the promenade-deck, gazing at the moon as it +rose apparently out of the Indian Ocean. +</P> + +<P> +"What a topping evening, Mr. Mostyn," observed the girl. "Just fine +for a sail." +</P> + +<P> +She gave a glance at one of the quarter-boats, an eighteen-foot gig +fitted with a centre-board. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fraid it can't be done," remarked Peter, with a laugh. "Stopping +vessels in mid-ocean for the purpose of giving lady passengers a spin +in one of the boats isn't usual. Might work it when we arrive at +Bulonga. You're fond of sailing, I notice." +</P> + +<P> +"I love it," declared the girl enthusiastically. "Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, rather," agreed Peter; "so long as there's not too much of it." +</P> + +<P> +"There never could be too much as far as I am concerned," protested +Olive. "What do you mean by too much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, for instance, a two-hundred mile run in a boat of about that +size," replied the Wireless Officer, indicating the centre-board gig. +"I tried that sort of thing once, but the boat never reached her +destination." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about it," commanded Miss Baird. "Were you single-handed?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Peter. "There were three fellows and a girl. We got +wrecked." +</P> + +<P> +For nearly three-quarters of an hour Olive listened intently to +Mostyn's account of the escape from the pirate island in the North +Pacific; the narrator with his natural modesty touching but lightly +upon his share of the desperate enterprise. +</P> + +<P> +"And where is the girl now?" inquired Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"She married my chum Burgoyne," replied Peter. "I had a letter from +him when we were at Cape Town. Burgoyne is a jolly lucky fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"We had a sailing-boat of our own once," said Olive, her mind going +back to those far-off days before she had a stepmother to make things +unpleasant for her. "I used to sail quite a lot on the Tamar when we +lived at Saltash." +</P> + +<P> +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Peter to himself. "I felt certain I'd seen +her before, but I couldn't for the life of me say where." +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments he remained silent, making a mental calculation. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it in 1913?" he inquired. "Didn't you have a bright, varnished +boat with a teak topstrake and a red standing lugsail? And you were +about eight or nine then. You used to have your hair bobbed, and wore +a white jersey and a scarlet stocking cap?" +</P> + +<P> +"However did you know that?" asked Olive in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Because we had a yacht moored just above the red powder hulks. My +father held an appointment at Keyham Dockyard, you see; and whenever he +had a home billet he kept a yacht or boat of some sort. Sailing was +his favourite pastime." +</P> + +<P> +But Olive was paying scant heed to the description of Mostyn <I>père</I> as +set forth by Mostyn <I>fils</I>. Her thoughts too were flying back to those +halcyon days before the war. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I remember you," she said at length. "Weren't you on board +a white yawl of about six tons, with a green boot-top and rather a high +cabin top?" +</P> + +<P> +"That was the <I>Spindrift</I>, my pater's yacht," declared Peter. "And——" +</P> + +<P> +"And you were about ten or eleven, with a freckly face," pursued Miss +Baird calmly. "You were a horrid little wretch in those days, because +I distinctly remember you laughing at me when the halliard jammed and I +couldn't get the sail either up or down." +</P> + +<P> +"Guilty, Miss Baird," said Peter. "I apologize. Give me a chance to +make amends and I'll be all over it." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," agreed the girl. "You may take me for a sail in Bulonga +Harbour; but you mustn't be selfish, like Mr. Preston and Mr. Anstey. +You will let me take the tiller, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter gave the required promise. He felt highly pleased with himself. +Anstey was evidently in disfavour because he had underrated Olive's +capabilities as a helmswoman. In addition, the Third Officer would be +fairly busy while the <I>West Barbican</I> was in harbour, as the steelwork +had to be taken out of the hold. Reminiscences of youth spent in the +West Country, too, were mutual and sympathetic bonds between the +Wireless Officer and the girl. No wonder he was feeling highly elated. +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of a place is Bulonga?" asked Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't the faintest idea," replied Peter. "Never heard of the show +until a day or two ago. Don't expect a second Durban, Miss Baird. If +you do you'll be disappointed. I shouldn't be at all surprised if it's +a pestilential mud-hole. By Jove, it's close on eight bells, and it's +my watch." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Mostyn "took in" a message from Durban addressed to +Miss Baird. It contained the brief announcement that Mr. and Mrs. +Gregory—Olive's relations to whom she was on her way—were returning +to England in three days' time, and that Olive's passage-money home was +lying at the Company's offices at Durban. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +An Eventful River Trip +</H3> + +<P> +"What a one-eyed crib!" exclaimed Anstey, as the <I>West Barbican</I> slowly +approached the low-lying coast in the neighbourhood of Bulonga. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn nodded in concurrence. +</P> + +<P> +The outlook was dreary in the extreme. All there was to be seen was a +squalid collection of galvanized-iron huts rising above a low, sandy +spit; a few gaunt palms; a line of surf—not milk-white, but +coffee-coloured—and a background of sun-dried hills. +</P> + +<P> +The whole coast seemed to have been scorched up by the sun. Brown and +drab colours predominated. The foliage was of a sombre drab-green +narrowly approaching a dull copper colour. Even the sea in the +vicinity of the harbour had lost its usual clearness and appeared to be +charged with a muddy sediment. +</P> + +<P> +"Any sign of the pilot, Mr. Anstey?" inquired Captain Bullock. +</P> + +<P> +The "S International", the signal for a pilot, had been flying from the +topmast-head for the last hour, as the <I>West Barbican</I> cautiously +closed with the inhospitable-looking coast, but there were no signs of +activity ashore. +</P> + +<P> +In ordinary circumstances it was customary for the ship to wireless her +agents, asking them to make arrangements for a pilot; but, since there +were no agents at Bulonga, nor even a wireless station, that procedure +was put out of court. There remained only the old-time flag signal to +summon a pilot from shore. +</P> + +<P> +"No sign yet, sir," replied the officer of the watch. He had been +scanning the shore through a telescope until his eyes smarted. The +glare form those "tin" huts seemed to be reflected through the lenses +of the telescope to his optic nerve. He was literally seeing red. +</P> + +<P> +"All asleep, I suppose," commented the Old Man. "It beats me why we've +been ordered to this rotten hole. Try 'em with the siren, Mr. Anstey." +</P> + +<P> +The echoes of the powerful whistle had hardly died away when a hoist of +bunting rose slowly in the humid air. Until a faint zephyr caught the +flags it was impossible for the <I>West Barbican</I> to understand the +import of the signal. +</P> + +<P> +"FWE," sang out Anstey. "That reports that there's not enough water on +the bar, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Not enough fiddlesticks!" snapped the Old Man. "It's within half an +hour of high water. We'll lose the flood if they don't get busy. +Besides, how the blazes do they know our draught? For two pins I'd +take her in myself." +</P> + +<P> +No doubt the skipper, with the aid of chart, compass, and lead-line, +could have navigated the ship across the bar with complete success. He +had worked his way into uncharted harbours before to-day. But should +the vessel ground he would be in a very difficult position with the +Board of Trade. Even if he were successful in getting the ship safely +alongside the quay there might be trouble with the Portuguese officials +for not complying with the port regulations. +</P> + +<P> +"That chap who wrote something about those serving who only stand and +wait didn't know much about the tides," fumed the Old Man. "Here's the +blessed tide serving, but it won't stand and it won't wait, and time's +precious." +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless the skipper had to wait, impatiently and irritably, until +such times as the easy-going officials sent out a pilot. +</P> + +<P> +It was more than an hour later before a white motor-boat with an awning +fore and aft was seen approaching the ship. +</P> + +<P> +As the boat drew nearer its ugliness became apparent. The paint was +dirty, and in places rubbed away to the bare planking. The awning had +seen better days, and had been roughly patched in a dozen places. A +couple of coir fenders trailed drunkenly over the side, while the +painter was dragging through the water. The motor was wheezing like a +worn-out animal and emitting smoke from numerous leaky joints, while +the clutch, slipping badly, was rasping like a rusty file. +</P> + +<P> +A Zanzibari native was "tending" the engine, and a half-caste +Portuguese was at the wheel. In the stern-sheets was a short and very +stout man puffing at an enormous cigar. He wore a dirty white uniform +with a lavish display of tarnished gilt braid, while set at an angle on +his bushy hair was a peaked cap with the Mozambique arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Goo' mornin', Senhor Capitano!" he exclaimed, when the boat ranged +awkwardly alongside. "Me pilot. Get you in in shake o' +brace—no—brace o' shake." +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +Still puffing his cigar the Portuguese pilot came over the side and +waddled on to the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +"Vat you draw?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man gave him the ship's draught. +</P> + +<P> +"Ver' mooch," rejoined the pilot, shrugging his shoulders. "Tide go. +Why you no call me before?" +</P> + +<P> +But get her in he did, although the propeller was throwing up muddy +sand and the keel plates were slithering over the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later the <I>West Barbican</I> was berthed alongside the +quay—a dilapidated structure partly stone and partly timber, with +rusty bollards that, judging by their appearance, had not made the +acquaintance of mooring-ropes for months. Clearly the maritime +activities of Bulonga were largely dormant. +</P> + +<P> +Presently—there was no hurry, everything at Bulonga being done on the +"do it to-morrow" principle—the Customs officers came on board. +</P> + +<P> +They were bilious-looking rascals, whose broad hints for "palm-oil" +were as plain as the fellaheen demanding baksheesh. To them the task +of searching for dutiable goods was of secondary importance. +</P> + +<P> +From one of them, who spoke English passably, Captain Bullock elicited +the information that there was no British agent in the place; neither +was there telegraphic, telephonic, nor railway communication with +anywhere. Once a week a small steamer brought up outside the bar for +the purpose of collecting and delivering mails and parcels. When the +weather was rough, or the bar impassable, the inhabitants of Bulonga +had to wait another week, perhaps two, for news of the outside world. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to hand over the steelwork to some one, Preston," observed +the Old Man. "We can't dump it on the quay and leave it to rot. Nip +ashore and see if there's a fairly reliable storekeeper who will freeze +on to the stuff till it's wanted. We'll need a covered store at least +a hundred and twenty feet in length." +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief returned on board with the information that there was +a suitable place, and only one. The owner, a timber exporter and +importer, had gone home, and no one knew when he was likely to return. +He lived at a place called Duelha, about seven or eight miles up the +river that empties itself into the shallow Bulonga Harbour, and he was +in the habit of journeying to and fro by means of a motor-boat. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to rout him out," decided Captain Bullock. "I'll send my +motor-boat. Meanwhile we'll engage natives and start getting the stuff +out of the hold. The question is: who am I going to send away with the +boat? You'll be on duty on deck, Preston, and Anstey will be tallying +in the hold. I've got it. I'll get young Mostyn to go." +</P> + +<P> +He went to the end of the bridge and looked down. On the +promenade-deck were Peter and Olive watching the dreary harbour. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Baird had taken her great disappointment remarkably well. On the +principle that there is no time like the present, she refused to dwell +upon the prospects of returning home. She would have to, she supposed, +in due course; meanwhile she was on board the <I>West Barbican</I> without +any immediate chance of returning even as far as Durban. And the +longer the voyage the better, she decided. +</P> + +<P> +"This doesn't look promising for our sail, Miss Baird," said Peter. +"The tide's ebbing like a millrace. Look at those trunks of trees +coming down. They'd give a small boat a nasty biff if they fouled her." +</P> + +<P> +"And no wind," added the girl. "Mr. Preston was telling me that in the +harbours on this coast it blows from the land from sunset till about +ten o'clock, and from the sea from a little after sunrise till ten in +the morning. Between times it's usually a flat calm." +</P> + +<P> +The harbour viewed from within looked far more uninviting than it did +from the offing. The ebb was in full swing—a turgid, evil-smelling +rush of coffee-coloured water. Already the mud-banks fringing the +mangrove-covered islands were uncovering and throwing out a noxious +mist under the powerful rays of the tropical sun, which was now almost +immediately overhead. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn found himself comparing Bulonga Harbour most unfavourably with +the lovely lagoons and coral reefs of the Pacific islands. +</P> + +<P> +"It may be better later on in the afternoon," he remarked. "Say an +hour before high water. If——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off abruptly, for Captain Bullock was descending the +bridge-ladder. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, young lady!" exclaimed the skipper. "What do you say to a run +in my launch? I'm sending her up-stream in a few minutes. You'll be +snug enough under the double canopy over the stern-sheets." +</P> + +<P> +"It ought to be rather exciting, Captain Bullock," replied Olive, +glancing at the surging ebb. "It would be very nice to see what it's +like." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o!" rejoined the skipper. "Mr. Mostyn, will you take charge of +the boat? You seem the best man for the job, considering that it's +your father's steelwork we are dealing with. Take this letter to a +Senhor José Aguilla, who hangs out at a place called Duelha. I'll show +you it on a chart. Get him to come down as soon as possible. If he's +like the rest of these gentry that will be <I>mañana</I>. In any case, +bring back a written reply to this letter." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Carry on, then. Pass the word for the serang to have the motor-boat +hoisted out and the awnings and side-curtains spread. Miss Baird, can +you be ready in a quarter of an hour?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn hurried away to carry out his instructions. +</P> + +<P> +"Good sort, the Old Man," he soliloquized. "And at one time I thought +I'd hate him like poison. It just shows a fellow that it's not wise to +judge by first impressions." +</P> + +<P> +Promptly the serang and half a dozen lascars came upon the scene and +began to cast off the lashings that secured the motor-boat to No. 2 +hatch. The little craft was Captain Bullock's private property. She +was about twenty-five feet in length, carvel-built of teak, and had a +12-horse-power paraffin engine installed under the fore-deck. +'Midships was a well, fitted with a wheel and motor controls, while the +spacious cockpit aft was provided with a folding hood, as well as +double awnings spread between tall brass stanchions. +</P> + +<P> +In less than ten minutes the boat had been swung out by means of a +derrick, and was straining at her painter alongside the accommodation +ladder. +</P> + +<P> +With Senhor Aguilla's letter in the breast-pocket of his drill tunic +and his automatic in his hip-pocket, Mostyn waited at the head of the +ladder until Olive appeared, wearing a light, linen skirt and coat and +a topee with a gold-edged pugaree. +</P> + +<P> +It was "stand easy". Notwithstanding the tremendous heat the officers +were spending their leisure in a manner followed by Britons all the +world over. They were playing cricket, with the netted promenade-deck +as the field, and stumps precariously supported by a small wooden base. +Yet the thrill of deck-cricket paled into insignificance when Olive +Baird appeared. One and all the players flocked to the side to watch +her departure in the Old Man's motor-boat. +</P> + +<P> +From the top of the accommodation ladder Peter signed to the native +engineer, and by the time Olive stepped agilely into the stern-sheets, +without taking advantage of Mostyn's proffered hand, the motor was +purring gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Let go aft—let go for'ard!" ordered Peter. "Touch ahead." +</P> + +<P> +By a gentle movement of the wheel Mostyn got the boat clear of the +ship's side without the risk of hitting the propeller. He knew from +experience that the effect of helm is to swing a boat's stern round and +not her bows. Then, with a sign to the native engineer to "let her all +out", Peter steadied the boat on her course. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man's private launch was no sluggard. She could do a good nine +knots, but her progress against the formidable ebb seemed tediously +slow. She was slipping through the coffee-coloured water quickly +enough, as her bow-wave and clear wake denoted; but she seemed to be +crawling past the low river banks at less than a slow walking pace. +</P> + +<P> +Peter did not mind. He had no idea of wasting time in the execution of +his orders, but, on the other hand, the relatively slow progress did +not worry him. He was perfectly happy. Olive, too, was obviously +enjoying the run. The breeze set up by the motion of the boat through +the still air was delightfully cooling after the enervating atmosphere +on board the <I>West Barbican</I> alongside the wharf. +</P> + +<P> +"Like to take her?" asked Peter, when a bend of the river hid them from +the ship. +</P> + +<P> +"Rather," replied Miss Baird promptly, and, nimbly negotiating the +bulkhead between the stern-sheets and the steering-well, she mounted +the low, grating-fitted platform and grasped the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn, who had relinquished the helm, stood just behind and a little +to the side, so that he could command a view ahead. Occasionally he +had to consult the chart in order to avoid the numerous sand-banks. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out for those floating logs, Miss Baird," he cautioned, as three +or four huge tree trunks, green with trailing weed, rolled lazily over +and over in their aimless passage to the open sea. +</P> + +<P> +Olive avoided them easily. Peter's confidence in the helmswoman +increased by leaps and bounds. There was no hesitation on her part, no +bungling as the swift, frail craft passed between two of the logs with +less than six feet to spare on either side. +</P> + +<P> +"Give that log a wide berth, Miss Baird," observed her companion, after +a number of obstructions had been avoided. "Unless I'm much mistaken +we'll find that log has a motor of sorts. Yes, by Jove! it has!" +</P> + +<P> +The "log" was an enormous hippopotamus, floating motionless on the +water, with only its snout and a small portion of its back showing +above the surface. +</P> + +<P> +At this point the river had contracted considerably, the actual +waterway being less than twenty yards from bank to bank, although at +half tide these banks were submerged and the width of the stream +increased to nearly a quarter of a mile. +</P> + +<P> +Olive meant to give the brute as wide a berth as possible, while, on +the other hand, the hippo resolved on close quarters with the +motor-boat. +</P> + +<P> +Instead of diving to the muddy bottom of the river the hippopotamus +began to swim rapidly towards the launch, opening its huge jaws with +evident relish at the prospect of biting out a few square feet of +gunwale and topside as an entree. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn and the native coxswain, who had hitherto been "standing easy", +were keenly on the alert. The latter, seizing an oar, made ready to +deal a blow upon the brute's head, although the hippo would have paid +no more attention to the blow than he would to being tickled with a +straw. +</P> + +<P> +Olive showed no sign of nervousness. In fact, she acted so coolly and +with such excellent judgment that Peter made no attempt to grasp the +wheel. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing the animal approach, the girl edged the boat well over to the +port side of the narrow channel. In spite of the speed of the launch +it was apparent that the hippo would cut it off if the same direction +were maintained. +</P> + +<P> +Not until the boat's stem was within twenty yards of the brute did +Olive alter helm. Then, with a quick, even movement, she put the helm +hard-a-port. +</P> + +<P> +Before the unwieldy animal could turn, the launch had literally scraped +the hippo's submerged hindquarters. Then, swinging the boat back on +her former course, the girl glanced at her companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Near thing, that," she remarked. "I wonder that would have happened +if we'd hit it?" +</P> + +<P> +"We would have come off worst," replied Peter, who, now the danger was +over, was beginning to realize what the consequences might have been. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you wouldn't mind taking on," said Olive a little later. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn took the helm. Although the girl had given no reason for +wanting to relinquish the wheel, he felt pretty certain that the +incident had shaken her up a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"You're all right?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the river widened considerably. The launch was now within +half a mile of her destination, but, according to the chart, there was +a submerged bank on the starboard hand, and fairly deep water close to +the right bank. +</P> + +<P> +Without warning the impetus of the launch was arrested. Peter was +flung against the wheel; Olive, losing her balance, cannoned into him, +and was saved from a violent concussion against the coaming by the fact +that the native coxswain had got there first, and had been winded by +his impact with the woodwork. The engineer, who had crawled under the +fore-deck to replenish the contents of a grease-cup, was flung along +the narrow floor by the motor and finished up by butting the petrol +tank. +</P> + +<P> +"Aground!" exclaimed Mostyn, stating what was an obvious and +accomplished fact. +</P> + +<P> +The engine was racing furiously. Jerking the reverse lever into the +astern position Peter hoped that the action of the powerful propeller +would release the launch from her predicament. It was in vain. The +motor was racing as fast as ever, but there was no flow of water past +the boat's side to indicate that the propeller was going astern. +</P> + +<P> +"Blades stripped, by Jove!" ejaculated Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +He switched off the ignition, and, in the relative quietude that +succeeded the machine-gun-like explosions of the exhaust, took stock of +the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite all right, thank you," replied the girl, in answer to Peter's +question. The reply set Mostyn wondering whether in any circumstances +Olive would say otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the native coxswain was sitting up. Although he was not +taking nourishment he was gently caressing the bruised part of his +anatomy, but otherwise betraying no interest in things. +</P> + +<P> +Then the engineer appeared, backing out of the motor-room, and mopping +the blood on his forehead with a silk scarf. Gaining the steering-well +he drew himself up and salaamed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why sahib stop engine?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause the propeller blades are gone," replied Mostyn. "Savvy? +Blades—screw—no can do. Like this." +</P> + +<P> +He tried to convey the magnitude of the disaster by means of dumb show. +The native failed to understand. Being aground mattered little to him; +being slung about like a pea in a box he took more or less as a matter +of course. The thing—the thing that counted—was the fact that the +sahib had taken unto himself the duty of Abdullah Bux, engineer of the +Sahib Captain's launch, and had stopped the motor. Abdullah Bux felt +that on that account he had a grievance. +</P> + +<P> +The launch was lying well down by the head in about a couple of inches +of water. Her stem had struck a waterlogged tree trunk almost buried +in the soft mud. The impact had lifted her bows well clear of the +water, the greater portion of the keel passing over the obstruction +until, the bows dropping and plunging into the mud, the boat came to a +standstill. Then it was that the swiftly moving propeller had fouled +the log, with the result that the three blades were shorn off close to +the boss. +</P> + +<P> +"Tide still ebbing," remarked Peter. "We're properly on it, Miss +Baird." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, unfortunately," was the rejoinder. "There's no way of getting +her off till the tide makes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Might try kedging her off," suggested Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"A kedge wouldn't hold in this slime," declared the practical Miss +Baird, "even if you were able to lay it out. But you can't. The mud's +too soft." +</P> + +<P> +Peter sounded with an oar. The blade sank almost without resistance to +a depth of three feet in the noxious slime. +</P> + +<P> +A tedious wait followed. There was no denying the fact that it was +tedious. Peter and the girl sat under the after canopy, but a +<I>tête-à-tête</I> under these conditions was very different from one on the +promenade-deck of the <I>West Barbican</I> on a tranquil, starlit night. It +was hot—insufferably so. Not only did the sun pour fiercely down upon +the double awning. The mud, now "dry", was radiating heat—a clammy, +evil-smelling heat, as the rotting vegetation left high and dry by the +receding tide lay sweltering in the sunshine. The heavy, motionless +air, for there was not the faintest suspicion of a breeze, reeked as +only the air of an African swamp can—an overpowering, nauseating +stench. Thrown in as a makeweight came the reek of hot oil from the +badly overheated engine. +</P> + +<P> +"Tide's turning," said Peter, breaking the long silence. +</P> + +<P> +There was no lull in the change from ebb to flood. At one moment the +brownish waters were foaming seawards; at the next a miniature "bore" +was breaking over the fringe of the mud-flats, bringing with it a +collection of flotsam in the form of branches and trunks of trees. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fraid I'm giving you a rotten time," continued Peter apologetically. +"Sailing with Preston and Anstey in Durban must have been a joy +compared with this—and you told me you didn't like it a bit. You must +think I'm a rotten pilot." +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly everyone gets aground some time or other," replied Olive. "The +awkward part is that this isn't exactly like the mud-banks of the +Tamar. And it's unfortunate about the propeller. What do you propose +to do when we float?" +</P> + +<P> +"Row up to Duelha. It's less than half a mile. If we can't get a +spare propeller we might ask Senhor Aguilla to tow us back in his +motor-boat." +</P> + +<P> +The flood-tide made with great rapidity. In less than half an hour the +launch was afloat. The two lascars manned the oars, and the boat, +borne rapidly by the tide, quickly covered the remainder of the way to +Duelha. +</P> + +<P> +The Portuguese agent was overwhelmingly polite. He insisted on +entertaining Olive and Peter to coffee, and promised to tow the +disabled launch back to the ship, at the same time regretting that +there were no facilities at Duelha for repairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Eet is no trouvel, senhor," declared the Portuguese. "I myself vill +speak to el capitano Bullock concerning de stores from de sheep. Eet +is pleasair to do business vid de Englees all de time." +</P> + +<P> +It was sunset before Olive and Peter returned to the S.S. <I>West +Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The End of S.S. "<I>West Barbican</I>" +</H3> + +<P> +Throughout the day the scantily clothed Bantu workmen had been busily +engaged in unloading the steelwork. The natives, unlike their +Portuguese masters, had to keep hard at it, with the result that by the +time "knock-off" was announced and the Bantus, resuming their calico +skirt-like garments, had trooped ashore, the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I> drew +five feet less for'ard than when she crossed the bar. Captain +Bullock's interview with Senhor José Aguilla was of a mutually +satisfactory nature. The latter undertook to store and look after the +consignment of the Kilba Protectorate until such time as it was claimed +by the authorities. The terms were so many thousand milreis per month, +a sum that on paper looked truly formidable, but actually was equal to +about seven pounds of English money. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man was pleased to get the steelwork off his hands so +reasonably. Senhor Aguilla was pleased because he had the steelwork on +his hands. That was the difference. +</P> + +<P> +The Portuguese knew that the longer the consignment remained unclaimed +the longer he would continue to draw a fairly substantial sum for +wharfage and storage; and, although he promised to forward a letter to +the Kilba Protectorate agent at Pangawani by the next weekly steamer, +he meant to take steps to prevent, for as long as he possibly could, +the information concerning the steelwork reaching the proper quarter. +</P> + +<P> +Having, as he thought, satisfactorily settled with Senhor Aguilla +Captain Bullock sent for his Wireless Officer. +</P> + +<P> +"That means a ticking off, I expect," thought Peter, when Mahmed +delivered the message. "The Old Man's rattled about his motor-launch." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn was only partly right in his surmise. Captain Bullock was +annoyed, which was natural enough. No boat-owner likes to have his +craft damaged, especially when he is not on board. He has a sort of +feeling that the accident, whatever it might be, would not have +occurred had he been present. It was an awkward mishap. Until the +<I>West Barbican</I> returned to Durban, or some other large port, it would +be hopeless to expect to obtain a new propeller. +</P> + +<P> +But the skipper, in spite of his bluntness, was a just man. He dealt +with cases impartially, and no one having been censured by him had good +reason to doubt his judgment. +</P> + +<P> +Peter went to the skipper's cabin and reported the circumstances of the +accident. The Old Man listened attentively until the Wireless Officer +had finished his narrative; then he pointed to a chart of Bulonga +Harbour that was lying on the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"Show me where the stranding occurred, Mr. Mostyn. What, there? On +the port-hand side of the channel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock had no cause to doubt Peter's word, but he made up his +mind to question the two lascars who were in the boat, and also to see +if Miss Baird could throw any light upon the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"H'm. I suppose the river has changed its bed," he remarked. "African +rivers have a nasty habit of doing that. It was unfortunate that you +struck a snag; otherwise it wouldn't have mattered very much. All +right, carry on." +</P> + +<P> +Abdullah Bux and his compatriot could give no definite information. +Miss Baird, for the present, was not available. The strident tones of +Mrs. Shallop indicated pretty clearly that the lady was bullying the +girl for her prolonged and involuntary absence. +</P> + +<P> +At sunrise next morning the <I>West Barbican</I>, drawing considerably less +water than she had done eighteen hours previously, recrossed the bar. +The Portuguese pilot was dropped, and a course steered to pass through +the broad Mozambique Channel. Without exception all on board were glad +to get away from the malodorous harbour of Bulonga. +</P> + +<P> +On the afternoon of the seventh day after leaving Durban the weather +"came on dirty". A heavy wind from the east'ard raised a nasty sea, +which would have been angry but for the torrential downpour of rain +that had the effect of beating down the crested waves. +</P> + +<P> +As darkness set in the sky was almost one continuous blaze of vivid +sheet lightning. The rain was still heavy but the wind piped down, +blowing softly from the nor'-east. +</P> + +<P> +"We haven't seen the last of this yet," declared Preston. "The glass +is a bit jumpy. It'll blow like billy-ho before morning. How about +your aerial, Sparks? Aren't you going to disconnect it?" +</P> + +<P> +The two officers, clad in oilskins and precious little else, were +keeping the first watch. There was nothing doing in the +wireless-cabin. Atmospherics were present, but, apart from these +disturbances, no sound had been audible in the telephones during the +best part of Peter's watch. Insufferably hot, he had put on an oilskin +and had gone out for a breather. +</P> + +<P> +"No need," he replied. "At least not until we get forked lightning." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sorry we've got shot of that steelwork," remarked the Acting +Chief after a pause. "It's awkward stuff to carry. But the trouble of +it is that removing it has altered our deviation. The compass cannot +possibly be the same with that enormous amount of metal taken out of +the ship. I suggested to the Old Man that we ought to have swung the +old hooker before we left Bulonga and adjusted compasses. But he was +in a hurry to get under way, and, apart from that, the harbour was so +shallow that we couldn't get a clear swing. She's not far out on this +bearing. I took a sight at the Southern Cross for that. Talking of +compasses: did you hear that yarn about the Flinder's bar?" +</P> + +<P> +"About the candidate for Mate's certificate who told the examiner that: +'There ain't no pub o' that name in Gravesend'?" asked Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"No, but that's not so dusty," replied Preston. "My yarn concerns an +old skipper in the Penguin Line. He was——" +</P> + +<P> +But Mostyn was not to hear the anecdote. +</P> + +<P> +A violent concussion, as if the ship had struck a rock, almost threw +the two men off their feet. A muffled report followed. +</P> + +<P> +"Mined, by Jove!" exclaimed Preston, in the brief lull that succeeded +the detonation. +</P> + +<P> +Then pandemonium was let loose. The lascars, yelling and shouting, +poured on deck, followed by a mob of native firemen. Capable enough in +ordinary circumstances, the Indians lacked the stolidity and grim +courage of British crews when disaster, sudden and unexpected, stared +them in the face. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Bullock was quickly on the bridge. He could do little or +nothing to allay the panic, for the native petty officers were as +frantic as the rest. To add to the difficulties of the situation, +every light on board went out. Vast clouds of smoke and steam were +issuing through the engine-room fiddleys. The propeller was slowing +down. The engineer on watch had, on his own initiative, cut off steam +and opened the high-pressure gauges. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man shouted through the speaking-tube to the engine-room. +There was no response. +</P> + +<P> +Just then, in the glare of the lightning, he caught sight of Anstey, +who, awakened by the explosion, had hurried to the bridge in his +pyjamas and uniform cap. +</P> + +<P> +"Nip below, Mr. Anstey, and see the extent of the damage," he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +Anstey turned to obey. At the head of the bridge-ladder he encountered +Crawford, the engineer of the watch. +</P> + +<P> +"Nice sort of night to be in the ditch, laddie," exclaimed Crawford, as +he elbowed his way past the Third Officer. "How far is to land, +anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +Crawford was on his way to report to the bridge. He had been flung +violently on the bed-plates when the explosion occurred. Upon +regaining his feet he found the engine-room in darkness save for the +feeble glimmer of an oil lamp. Water was pouring in like a sluice +through a rent in the after bulkhead that separated the engine-room +from No. 3 hold. The firemen, panic-stricken, were bolting on deck. +Neither by words nor action could Crawford stem the human tide of +affrighted Asiatics. +</P> + +<P> +Quietly he made his way to the platform and awaited orders from the +bridge. The telegraph remained silent, the indicator on the dial still +pointing to "Full Ahead". +</P> + +<P> +By this time the water in the stokeholds was damping the fires, and +Crawford deemed it prudent to shut off steam and open the escape valves +in order to avert an explosion of the boilers. +</P> + +<P> +Knee deep in the oily water that slushed to and fro as the ship rolled, +the engineer of the watch groped his way through clouds of steam until +his self-appointed task was done. Then, after shouting in case anyone +else had remained below, he effected his retreat and at once made for +the bridge to report to the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"She's going, Mr. Preston," declared Captain Bullock. +</P> + +<P> +"She is, sir," agreed the Acting Chief. Experience had taught him the +now unmistakable symptoms of a foundering ship. +</P> + +<P> +"Call away the boats," continued the Old Man "If you've trouble with +that mob use your revolver, Preston. Don't hesitate. Remember we've +women on board. Use your discretion as to what boat you stow 'em in." +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief hurried off, pausing outside the wireless-room to give +Mostyn the last known position of the ship, which information was a +necessary adjunct to the SOS call. +</P> + +<P> +Peter had not been idle. The moment the seriousness of the situation +became apparent he was back at his post in the wireless-cabin. +</P> + +<P> +The shutting off of steam had automatically stopped the dynamo. In any +case, the explosion had severed the "leads". The main set was out of +action. Mostyn had to fall back upon the emergency gear. +</P> + +<P> +For quite ten minutes he contrived to call up, but no reassuring reply +came through in reply to the urgent appeal for aid. There were ships +within range of the emergency set, that Peter knew. He had spoken them +earlier in the evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Either atmospherics or else they've another Partridge and Plover on +board," he thought grimly. "Wonder where my birds are?" +</P> + +<P> +The two Watchers ought to have been on the bridge by this time. In +case of distress it was their duty to "fall in" outside the +wireless-cabin and await instructions. Neither had done so. +</P> + +<P> +The floor of the cabin had quite an acute list by this time. It was +only by propping his legs against the lee bulkhead that Mostyn could +keep seated. He realized perfectly well that the ship was sinking +rapidly, but it is part of an unwritten code of honour that a wireless +officer "stands by" until he is ordered away by his skipper or swept +from his post by the sea itself. +</P> + +<P> +Even as he waited, still sending out the unacknowledged SOS, he thought +of Olive Baird, wondering how she was faring in the horrors of the +night. If he only knew—but perhaps for his peace of mind it was as +well that he did not. +</P> + +<P> +Above the turmoil without came the report of two pistol shots in quick +succession. There was no mistaking the sharp cracks. They differed +completely from the detonations of the distress rockets that at +intervals were fired from the bridge, on the chance that a vessel in +the vicinity might proceed to the aid of the foundering ship. +</P> + +<P> +The pistol shots reminded Peter of something that he might otherwise +have overlooked. Without removing the telephones from his ears he +groped and found his automatic and a box of cartridges. +</P> + +<P> +"No knowing when it might come in useful," he soliloquized, as he +thrust the weapon into his hip pocket. "While I'm about it I might as +well get dressed." +</P> + +<P> +With considerable difficulty, owing to the now terrific list of the +ship, he contrived to throw off his oilskin and don his white patrol +suit over his pyjamas. Then, putting on his oilskin once more, he +waited. +</P> + +<P> +He had not much longer to wait. +</P> + +<P> +"Any luck?" inquired the Old Man, who was gripping the doorway of the +wireless-cabin with both hands in order to prevent himself slipping +bodily to lee'ard. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Then chuck it," continued the skipper. "Look nippy. She's nearly +gone. Where's your life-belt?" +</P> + +<P> +A slight recovery on the part of the stricken <I>West Barbican</I> enabled +Peter and the skipper to gain the weather bridge rail, the former +securing a lifebelt from the chest by the side of the chartroom. +</P> + +<P> +It was a weird and terrible sight that met Mostyn's eyes as he clung to +the rail. The vivid flashes of lightning threw the scene into strong +relief as the bluish glare illumined the night. +</P> + +<P> +Not only was the ship listing to port. She was well down by the stern, +her poop being practically submerged. From the lee side of the +boat-deck a row of empty davits overhung the black water, the lower +blocks of the disengaged falls flogging the ship's side like a series +of blows with a sledge-hammer. +</P> + +<P> +A cable's length away was one of the boats with only half a dozen +people in her. Another more laden was a little distance away, the +rowers laying on their oars. A third, deep in the water, was +laboriously putting away from the ship. A fourth, waterlogged, with +her bow and the top of the transom showing above the surface, was +drifting at some distance astern of the ship, while a fifth was +floating bottom upwards with five or six lascars struggling to clamber +upon the upturned keel. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to shift for ourselves, Mostyn," said the Old Man calmly. +"The best of luck!" +</P> + +<P> +The people in the sparely manned boat, noting the skipper and the +Wireless Officer on the bridge, began to back towards the foundering +ship. +</P> + +<P> +"Avast there!" bawled Captain Bullock. "Stand off. Keep clear of the +suction. She's going!" +</P> + +<P> +With a shudder like an animal in mortal pain the staunch old ship made +her final plunge. Amidst the rending of wood, as the enormous pressure +of confined air burst the decks asunder, and the crash of the funnel as +the guys carried away, she slid stern foremost beneath the waves. +</P> + +<P> +Then a violent rush of water swept Peter off the shelving planking of +the bridge. He was conscious of being flung heavily against some solid +object, turned round and round like a slowly spinning top, and being +dragged down, down, down. +</P> + +<P> +Vainly he tried to keep his breath. The pressure on his lungs became +intolerable. He was barely conscious of struggling madly in the +crushing embrace of the black water. +</P> + +<P> +Then everything became a blank. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Night of Horror +</H3> + +<P> +Acting Chief Officer Dick Preston, on receiving the Old Man's order to +get the boats away, lost no time in getting to the scene of operations. +The frantic rush of the lascars to the boat-deck warned him of what to +expect. He had seen the panic-stricken clamour of a crew of +white-livered dagoes, had watched them tumble pell-mell into the sole +remaining boat, and had witnessed the result—a swamped whaler and +twenty men struggling for dear life, and struggling in vain in the icy +cold water off the Newfoundland Banks. That was many years ago, but +the lesson had not been lost on Dick Preston. +</P> + +<P> +Hurriedly loading his revolver, the Acting Chief gained the boat-deck. +Already the native crew had swung out one of the boats, and a fierce +struggle was in progress between the lascars and the firemen as to who +should go away in her. +</P> + +<P> +There was no love lost between the two classes. They were of different +races, the lascars hailing from Bombay while the firemen were recruited +from the Coromandel coast; they were of different faith, the former +being Mahommedans, the latter Buddhists. It needed little to cause a +row. When it came to a struggle for life the natives were in a state +bordering upon madness. +</P> + +<P> +"Chup rao!" shouted Preston, levelling his revolver. "Belay there! +Stand fast!" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the lascars and firemen hesitated. Then, as the ship +shook and staggered as the bulkhead of No. 2 hold gave way, they surged +in a living torrent into the out-swung boat, regardless of the revolver +shots which the Acting Chief fired over their heads. +</P> + +<P> +Preston made no further attempt to restore order on the boat-deck. If +the men disobeyed orders he was no longer responsible for their safety. +</P> + +<P> +He passed along until he came to a knot of comparatively amenable +Madrasis, who had been gathered together by Anstey and two of the +engineers. +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o, old man!" exclaimed the Acting Chief to the Third Officer. +"Lower away! You take command, and good luck to you." +</P> + +<P> +Quickly, yet with good discipline, the boat was manned and +lowered—Anstey, the two engineers, and Mr. Shallop in the stern-sheets. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep in company, Mr. Anstey," shouted Preston, as the falls swung free. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, sir," was the reply, followed by the order: "give way." +</P> + +<P> +Anstey's boat was barely clear of the side when the first boat to be +swung out was let go with a run. Greatly overcrowded, it struck the +water with tremendous force. The impact broke her back, and in a +moment she filled, leaving the frantic natives floundering in the +water. Some were crushed as the sea flung the waterlogged craft +against the ship's side. Others strove to clamber into the boat, only +to destroy her slight buoyancy. In the mêlée knives were used with +deadly effect, until only half a dozen men, who had swum clear of the +boat, were left out of the thirty odd who had crowded into her. +</P> + +<P> +It had been both Preston's and Anstey's plan to get the women away +first; but each had quickly realized that this was out of the question. +For one thing, neither Mrs. Shallop nor Olive was on the boat-deck. +For another, it was useless to attempt to place them in the boats until +the panic-stricken mob was effectively dealt with. +</P> + +<P> +Two more boats, each under the charge of an engineer, and with three or +four stewards, got away with difficulty. The crowd on the boat-deck +had thinned considerably. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, then, where are the women?" demanded Preston. He was not +altogether certain whether they had already got away, for, save for the +less frequent flashes of lightning, the scene was in total darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are, Preston!" shouted a voice that the Acting Chief +recognized as the Purser's. +</P> + +<P> +A bluish glare, a prolonged flash, enabled Preston to see the missing +passengers. The Purser was literally dragging Mrs. Shallop along the +deck, while Olive was close behind. +</P> + +<P> +For once Mrs. Shallop was silent. She was unconscious. +</P> + +<P> +"I wondered why she wasn't complaining that she was not being treated +as a lady," thought Preston grimly. "That accounts for it." +</P> + +<P> +Together, the Acting Chief and the Purser unceremoniously bundled the +insensible woman into the last boat but one on the port side. Those on +the starboard were useless, for, owing to the excessive heel, they +could not be lowered clear of the sloping side. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Miss Baird." +</P> + +<P> +Guided by Preston the girl entered the boat, in which were three +lascars—one of them Mahmed, Peter's boy. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Mostyn?" shouted the Acting Chief. "Partridge! Plover! +Hurry up, now!" +</P> + +<P> +He called in vain. The two Watchers had already got clear of the ship. +Mostyn was still vainly endeavouring to get the SOS message through. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile the Purser, the Chief Steward, and the remaining natives had +lowered the last available boat. Preston was left alone on the +boat-deck—a fact that was revealed to him when the next +lightning-flash rent the sky. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the Captain?" he shouted, hailing the boats lying a short +distance away. "Anyone seen Captain Bullock?" +</P> + +<P> +By this time the water was washing over the well-deck. At any moment +the <I>West Barbican</I> might turn turtle. +</P> + +<P> +A voice from one of the boats replied: +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" bawled Preston. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," answered the voice. +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief was puzzled. It was not the Old Man's voice, but +perhaps Captain Bullock had been injured. He had not seen the skipper +since he left him on the bridge. Apparently the bridge was deserted. +It looked untenable owing to the great list of the ship. +</P> + +<P> +A muffled explosion, as yet another bulkhead gave way under the +pressure of water, warned Preston that it was time for him to go. It +was his duty to take charge of the boat in which were the two women +passengers. +</P> + +<P> +Leaping into the boat, Preston signed to Mahmed to help him with the +after falls, at the same time shouting to the other two lascars to +lower away handsomely. +</P> + +<P> +Although there was no one on deck to man the falls, it was a fairly +easy matter to lower away the comparatively light boat with only six +persons on board, the distance from the davit-heads to the water being +only about ten feet, so deep had the ship settled. +</P> + +<P> +"Fend off!" ordered Preston, as he jerked the lever of the patent +disengaging gear. +</P> + +<P> +Even as he spoke the heavy metal block of the lower after falls swung +violently outwards. In the darkness the Acting Chief did not see the +impending danger. +</P> + +<P> +The next instant the swaying lump of metal struck Preston full on the +temple. Without a groan or a cry he pitched headlong upon the +stern-sheet gratings. +</P> + +<P> +It was Mahmed who discovered the apparently lifeless form of the Chief +Officer. He communicated his discovery to his compatriots, and an +excited conversation ensued. Meanwhile the boat was drifting aimlessly +at less than ten yards from the <I>West Barbican's</I> port quarter. Until +it occurred to the lascars—who were arguing on a question of +precedence as to who should now give orders—that there was imminent +danger of the boat being swamped by the suction of the foundering ship, +they made no effort to man the oars. +</P> + +<P> +When about a hundred yards from the ship the lascars ceased rowing and +resumed their argument. +</P> + +<P> +All this time Olive had done what lay in her power to render Mrs. +Shallop's plight less painful. She was in utter ignorance of the +accident that had befallen the luckless Acting Chief Officer, although +she was rather puzzled at the lack of discipline displayed by the +lascars, and the fact that the officer in charge of the boat made no +attempt to check the dispute. +</P> + +<P> +Another vivid sheet of lightning illumined the scene, but Olive was not +looking into the boat. Her attention was attracted by the sight of two +men standing on the listing bridge of the ill-fated <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<P> +The glare was of sufficient duration to enable her to distinguish +Captain Bullock and Mostyn. She saw the former raise his hand and +beckon the boat to pull clear. He was shouting something, but in the +turmoil the words were indistinguishable. +</P> + +<P> +The long-drawn lightning flash ended, leaving the girl blinking in +Stygian darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Captain Bullock and Mostyn still on board, Mr. Preston," she +exclaimed, in anxious tones. "Can't we put back to fetch them?" +</P> + +<P> +There was no reply. +</P> + +<P> +In a louder tone Olive repeated the question of entreaty. +</P> + +<P> +Still there was no answer. +</P> + +<P> +The lascar bowman resumed his oar, pulling the boat's head round. +Finding his companion idle he prodded him in the back with his foot, +with the result that the man gave a few desultory strokes. In the +utter darkness the lascars had lost all sense of direction, and, +instead of pulling away from the ship, they were slightly closing with +her. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a hissing sound rent the air. It was the ship plunging +beneath the waves. The boat, caught by the turmoil of the tempestuous +seas, was thrown about like a cork. One of the men was hurled off the +thwart by the loom of his oar striking him in the face. The oar was +swept from his grasp and lost overboard. +</P> + +<P> +To Olive, crouching on the bottom-boards, it seemed as if the boat were +being lifted vertically. The movement reminded her of the sudden and +unexpected starting of a lift. Then, heeling terribly, the boat dipped +her gunwale under, and a cascade poured into her until Olive was +sitting waist deep in water. +</P> + +<P> +Her first act was to raise Mrs. Shallop's head. The shock of the water +had caused that lady partly to recover consciousness. She was moaning +and coughing. +</P> + +<P> +The violent motion lasted for quite a minute, then the maelstrom +subsided, and the partly waterlogged boat bobbed sluggishly on the +waves. The lascars, now roused to activity, were baling furiously with +their hands, since in the darkness it was impossible to find the baler +which was supposed to be in the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Preston!" exclaimed Olive once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Preston Sahib he dead man," was Mahmed's startling announcement, +although the words were delivered with the imperturbability of the +Asiatic. +</P> + +<P> +The horror of the situation gripped the plucky girl. Throughout the +period between the explosion and the foundering of the <I>West Barbican</I> +she had been perfectly self-possessed, her chief solicitude being for +her tyrannical employer. Now the full magnitude of the disaster became +apparent. She and the unconscious Mrs. Shallop were alone in the boat +with three apparently incapable lascars. Preston was, presumably, +dead; Mostyn she had seen standing on the bridge just before the ship +sank, keeping up the traditions of the Wireless Service to remain at +his post as long as the ship was afloat and the transmitting apparatus +was capable of being worked. +</P> + +<P> +The other boats were neither to be seen nor heard. Whether they were +still standing by or whether they were making for the nearest land the +girl knew not. +</P> + +<P> +She would have welcomed another lightning flash, out none came. The +electrical storm had passed. Rain was now falling heavily, and the +total absence of wind was ominous. It presaged a hard blow, possibly a +storm, at no distant date. +</P> + +<P> +Olive was thinking deeply. It was "up to her" to show the lascars that +a British woman is not helpless in a tight corner. +</P> + +<P> +"If only it were light," she thought. +</P> + +<P> +Then she remembered that the boats usually carried an emergency +equipment, an oil lamp amongst other things. +</P> + +<P> +"Mahmed," she ordered, "get the boat's lamp from the stern-locker and +light it." +</P> + +<P> +She would have found it herself, but for the fact that Preston's body +lay on the stern-gratings. She frankly admitted to herself that +nothing could induce her to grope her way past that in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +The two lascars were still baling in the bows. They too were reluctant +to go aft, where, by removing the stern-sheet gratings, they could deal +more effectually with the water in the bilges. +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed obeyed without protest. Olive could hear the search in +progress; first the clatter of the detached locker-cover, as it slipped +upon the stern-sheets, then the rasping of a metal-bound keg, and the +metallic clank of the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +"No can do, memsahib," reported Mahmed. "No light, no match." +</P> + +<P> +"Look again," commanded the girl. Unless some unprincipled person had +purloined them, there ought to be matches in a watertight box along +with the rest of the gear in the after locker. +</P> + +<P> +A further search proved futile. The boats and their gear had been +inspected by the officer of the watch only that morning, and had been +reported as being in good condition and fully equipped in every +respect. Either Anstey, as inspecting officer, had shirked his whole +duty or else, which to Olive seemed unlikely, the matches had been +stolen in broad daylight. +</P> + +<P> +"See if there are matches in Preston Sahib's pocket," said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +But Mahmed drew the line at that. In his quaint English he explained, +giving several reasons that seemed puerile. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it's hardly fair to get him to do what I daren't do myself," +thought the girl. Then, summoning up her resolution, she leant over +the stroke-thwart, and shudderingly groped for the Acting Chief's +pockets. +</P> + +<P> +To her delight she found a box of Swedish matches in the breast pocket +of Preston's drill patrol jacket. Before she could withdraw her hand +the supposedly dead man moved slightly, but none the less perceptibly. +That altered the situation. Olive was no longer dealing with a corpse, +but with a living person. Instinctively she placed her hand over +Preston's heart. It was beating very feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Here are matches, Mahmed!" she exclaimed. "Light the lamp quickly. +Preston Sahib is not dead." +</P> + +<P> +It seemed an interminable delay before Mahmed succeeded in getting the +lamp lighted. The matches were damp, the wick wanted trimming, and the +colza oil was a long time before it gave out a flame. +</P> + +<P> +At length the lamp was lighted, and there was quite a steady light, and +the transition from utter darkness imparted confidence. +</P> + +<P> +Giving a hasty look at Mrs. Shallop, to see that she was still in the +recovering stage, Olive turned to the more important work in hand. +</P> + +<P> +Preston looked a ghastly sight. One side of his face had been badly +injured, while the concussion had caused blood to ooze from his eyes, +nose, and mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Olive's first step was to wash the injured man's face and moisten his +lips with water. She had the good sense to use salt water for the +washing process, knowing that the contents of the water-beaker were +likely to be more precious than gold before the adventure was over. +Then, pillowing the patient's head on a sail and covering him with a +piece of tarpaulin, she debated as to what was to be done next. +</P> + +<P> +Clearly Preston's case required medical aid. Selwyn was in one of the +boats, but whether they were in company or not Olive had no idea. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold up the lamp, Mahmed," she ordered. "High up." +</P> + +<P> +The boy obeyed, while Olive, shading her eyes from the heavy rain, +peered around in case any of the other boats might be displaying a +light. It was a doubtful point. Even if they had, the torrential +downpour would tremendously curtail the range of visibility of the +low-powered light. +</P> + +<P> +In fact, held high above Mahmed's head, the rays simply illuminated a +circular patch of rain-threshed water, a little more than a dozen yards +in radius, Beyond was an impenetrable wall of darkness. +</P> + +<P> +An involuntary cry came from Olive Baird's lips. She could hardly +believe the evidence of her eyes, for floating inertly within an oar's +length of the boat was a man—Peter Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +Whether he was alive or dead Olive knew not. His usually tanned +features looked a ghastly greenish hue, his eyes were closed, and his +head was hanging sideways. His arms were moving slightly, but the +movement was purely automatic as the lifebelt-clad figure lifted to the +gentle undulations of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Startled by Olive's cry, Mahmed looked in the direction to which the +girl was pointing. His fright at seeing, as he thought, the dead body +of his master, was almost disastrous in its result. The upheld lamp +slipped from his nerveless fingers and fell clattering upon the +gunwale. For an instant it seemed uncertain whether it would drop into +the sea or not, but luckily a movement of the boat slid it inboard. +</P> + +<P> +But the fall had extinguished the lamp. Mahmed was in too much of a +blue funk to relight it. Olive settled the question by taking the box +of matches from him and lighting it herself. +</P> + +<P> +Neither of the two lascars for'ard would move a finger to row towards +the Wireless Officer. Superstition akin to panic held them in its +grip. They would not—they could not—use their oars. Every bit of +courage seemed to have oozed out of them. +</P> + +<P> +Seizing one of the spare oars lying across the thwarts, Olive, using +the unwieldy ash paddle-wise, slowly brought the boat nearer and nearer +the seemingly inanimate man. Had there been any wind the task would +have been almost impossible, owing to the high freeboard of the lightly +laden boat; but in the absence of even a faint breeze Olive was able to +accomplish her aim. +</P> + +<P> +With a sigh of relief she threw down the oar, and, leaning over the +gunwale, grasped Peter by one arm. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Peter takes Charge of Things +</H3> + +<P> +Exerting every ounce of strength, Olive tried and tried in vain to haul +Mostyn into the boat. In normal conditions he was no light weight, and +now, in his waterlogged clothing and wearing a cumbersome lifebelt, he +was so heavy that the girl could do no more than lift his head and +shoulders clear of the water. +</P> + +<P> +She called to the lascars for assistance, but the only reply she +received from the two men for'ard was: "No good; him dead man." +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed, however, although he had no doubt that he was handling a +corpse, came to her aid, although he worked with an averted face. Even +with his assistance Olive had a hard task, but at length Peter was +unceremoniously bundled over the gunwale, and placed in the +stern-sheets close to the unconscious Preston. +</P> + +<P> +Anxiously the girl gazed at his pallid face, hoping to detect some sign +of life. Then she began the operations as laid down in the +instructions for restoring the apparently drowned. +</P> + +<P> +In her schooldays Olive had been taught this useful knowledge, but she +had never before had an opportunity of putting the knowledge to the +test. She felt none too sure of it. Once or twice she found herself +wondering whether she was doing the wrong thing. +</P> + +<P> +For a full half-hour she kept up the respiratory exercises, until, in +the uncertain light of the lantern, she fancied that the colour was +stealing back to Peter's face. +</P> + +<P> +"He is alive; your master isn't dead!" she exclaimed to the hitherto +apathetic Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +The announcement had an electrical effect upon the Indian boy. Peter +dead was nothing to him; Peter living was his master for whom he had +undoubted affection and devotion. +</P> + +<P> +He began chafing Mostyn's hands, while Olive, now deadly tired, +doggedly continued her efforts. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn's heart was now beating. His nostrils were quivering. He was +breathing faintly, but with steadily increasing strength. Though +partially choked by the water he had involuntarily swallowed when +carried down by the ship, he had been saved from suffocation by his +lifebelt, which kept his head clear of the water after he had regained +the surface. +</P> + +<P> +Restoring the circulation was the next step. Fortunately both the +water and air were warm, and the dangerous consequences of a prolonged +immersion were mitigated. Had the disaster occurred in other than +tropical waters, the comparatively low temperature would have been +fatal. +</P> + +<P> +At length Peter opened his eyes. He was quite at a loss to grasp the +situation. The lamplight puzzled him. At first he was under the +impression that he was in his bunk, and that either Watcher Partridge +or Watcher Plover had roused him to take in a signal. Somehow that +didn't seem correct. Awkwardly he fumbled for the edge of the bunk +board. Instead, his fingers encountered the stern-grating. Then his +attention was wonderingly attracted by one of the knees of the after +thwart. It had been split, and the sight of it irritated him, although +he didn't know why, exactly. +</P> + +<P> +He was beginning to realize that he was in a boat. How he got there, +and why he should be in it, was a perplexity. It might be the Old +Man's motor-launch—but no! Something was wrong somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen fantastic theories flashed across his mind, only to be +dismissed so unsatisfactorily that the failure made him angry. One +thing he was certain of. Miss Baird was with him, but what she was +doing there was a baffling problem. He wanted to speak to her, but +hesitated lest that certainty should turn out to be an unreality. +</P> + +<P> +He was still cudgelling his brain when he fell into a fitful and uneasy +sleep. +</P> + +<P> +The short tropical dawn was breaking when Peter awoke. He was now +fully conscious of the events leading up to the foundering of the <I>West +Barbican</I>, but was still at a loss to account for his presence in the +boat. Stranger still it was to find that he had not been labouring +under a hallucination with regard to Olive Baird. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was sleeping on the bottom-boards, her head pillowed on a +lifebelt. On the next thwart sat Mrs. Shallop, looking extremely +dishevelled, with her black hair streaming in the wind. For once she +was silent. On recovering consciousness she had grumbled considerably. +Now there was no one to listen to her complaints. Peter had been +asleep; Olive was still slumbering. Preston, although awake, was +decidedly light-headed. As for Mahmed and the two lascars, they were +huddled together in the bows awaiting the appearance of the sun with +its beneficent warmth. +</P> + +<P> +Peter sat up wonderingly. His head swam a little, and he felt as weak +as the proverbial kitten. Some one had covered him with an oilskin. +He wondered who? +</P> + +<P> +It came as a nasty shock to see poor old Preston stretched alongside, +with one half of his face looking as if it had been battered in. The +Acting Chief looked at Peter, but there was no recognition in the look. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, old man!" exclaimed Mostyn. "How goes it?" +</P> + +<P> +The greeting was ignored. Preston made an effort to place his hand on +his head. The attempt failed. With a groan the Acting Chief rolled +over on his side. +</P> + +<P> +"Water!" he gasped feebly. +</P> + +<P> +Peter dragged the beaker from under the stern bench and moistened the +injured man's lips. His own throat felt dry and parched, but already +he realized the absolute necessity for husbanding the precious fluid. +</P> + +<P> +Preston sighed and closed his eyes. For the time being Peter could do +nothing more for the badly injured Acting Chief. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer was feeling far too "groggy on his pins" to stand. +Supporting himself by the gunwale, he knelt up and scanned the horizon. +The wind was fresh and the sea fairly high, though regular. The boat, +not under control, was driving broadside on to the wind, her high +freeboard and comparatively light load allowing her to scud at quite a +steady rate. Also, owing to the same circumstances, she rode the seas +well, only an occasional flick of spray finding its way inboard. +</P> + +<P> +The rain had ceased during the night, but the bottom-boards were awash. +The masts and sails were still rolled up and stowed in a painted canvas +cover. Beside them was a bundle of oars, and on top of them a rudder. +</P> + +<P> +The fact that the boat was not under control stirred Peter to action. +Having made sure that none of the rest of the <I>West Barbican's</I> boats +was in sight, he aroused the inert lascars. +</P> + +<P> +"Hai! hai!" he shouted. "Aft, you hands, and set sail." +</P> + +<P> +The men showed no great haste to execute the command. +</P> + +<P> +"Where go? India?" asked one. +</P> + +<P> +"Lay aft, both of you," exclaimed Peter sternly, although in his weak +state he found himself asking how he could enforce obedience. He knew +enough of the native temperament to realize that if he gave a command +and failed to see it carried out, his authority over the lascars was as +good as gone for ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Me tired," objected the other. "No <I>pani</I>, no <I>padi</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Without another word Mostyn produced and ostentatiously displayed his +automatic. There were great odds against its efficacy, after being +submerged for several hours. The cartridges were supposed to be +watertight, and were well greased. He had little fear on that score. +The difficulty lay in the fact that the delicate mechanism of the +pistol might have been deranged through the action of the salt water. +</P> + +<P> +He felt confident that he could rely upon Mahmed. The boy was a +devoted servant, and true to his salt. And Peter had no doubt about +Miss Baird's ability to aid him if the lascars proved openly mutinous. +For the present Preston was out of the running, while Mrs. Shallop was +literally and figuratively a "passenger". +</P> + +<P> +Greatly to Mostyn's relief the sight of the automatic acted like an +electric shock upon the two lascars. With great agility and speed they +began casting off the sail-cover and setting up the heavy mast. +</P> + +<P> +While they were hoisting the lug-sail Mahmed shipped the rudder, and +soon the boat was slipping along before the breeze. +</P> + +<P> +Peter had been puzzling over the course for some considerable time. +Against the westerly breeze he knew that days might elapse before the +boat made the Mozambique coast. Being light and not provided with a +centre-board, she was unable to sail at all close to the wind. In +fact, it was doubtful whether she would make to windward at all. On +the other hand, she would run well, and, with the knowledge that the +island of Madagascar was somewhere under his lee—it might be anything +between two hundred and four hundred miles—Mostyn decided that the +best chance lay in making for it. There was, of course, a great +possibility of several vessels being in the vicinity. If the boat were +sighted, so much the better. If not—well, they would have to "stick +it out" on very short rations. +</P> + +<P> +A thorough search in the after locker disclosed the fact that there was +an airtight tin containing fourteen pounds of biscuits, another lantern +and a pound of tallow candles, a lead-line, some rusty fishing hooks +and lines (relics of a long-forgotten fishing expedition), a hatchet, +grass rope, and half a dozen signal rockets. Elsewhere in the boat +were a small compass, a water-beaker about three-quarters full, spare +oars, baler, boat-hook, grapnel, and a jib and mizzen sails, besides +the lug that had already been set. +</P> + +<P> +The baler had been nearly filled with rain-water during the night, but +the lascars had drunk every drop. Peter, of course, was ignorant of +this, and when he served out a small quantity all round the lascars +must have congratulated themselves on their astuteness. +</P> + +<P> +The tin of biscuits was then broached, and one biscuit handed to each +person in the boat. Preston munched his ravenously, although every +movement of his jaw caused him intense agony. He was still +lightheaded, muttering incoherently about taking over the middle watch. +</P> + +<P> +Olive was hungry and ate the "hard tack" with zest, but Mrs. Shallop +pettishly declined her share as being unfit for a lady to eat. She +even began her now well-known speech of self-advertisement, when Peter +cut her short. +</P> + +<P> +"I can offer you nothing better," he said curtly. "I would advise you +to keep it, because you'll want it badly before long. And please +understand there must be no grumbling. It has a bad effect upon the +lascars." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely I can talk if I want to?" protested the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Within limits, yes," replied Mostyn. "But I would point out that it +would be far better if you did something useful. There's Preston, for +instance, he requires pretty constant attention." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Miss Baird can see to him," declared Mrs. Shallop. "She's younger +than I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Considering Miss Baird had three cases on her hands during the +night—you, Preston, and myself—I think she's done more than her fair +share," said Peter, and, filled with disgust, he turned to the helm, +which Mahmed had temporarily taken. +</P> + +<P> +He could see Olive's face flush under the selfish rudeness of the +parvenue, but the girl, repressing her impulse to reply heatedly, +remained silent. +</P> + +<P> +A stiff glass of brandy, and the sound sleep resulting from it, had +kept Mrs. Shallop in ignorance of her narrow escape from death in the +disaster to the <I>West Barbican</I>. She was in the habit of consuming the +contents of a bottle of strong waters per week. "By Dr. Selwyn's +orders," she would explain. "He says I must have it, and it must be +the very best." And Selwyn was never more astonished than when he +heard of the prescription that was attributed to him. When the ship +shook under the explosion a steward had rushed to Mrs. Shallop's cabin, +and, unceremoniously dragging that lady from her bunk, had carried her +along the alleyway to the companion ladder. Here the lady promptly +collapsed. Meanwhile Mr. Shallop, who had been in the smoking-room, +had gone on deck. In the darkness he saw nothing of his wife, and +concluded that she was amongst the first to get away in the boats. At +which he congratulated himself. He was spared the ordeal of being +cooped up with Mrs. Shallop, who would to a certainty vent her anger +upon him for having taken the sea voyage, although it was entirely on +her suggestion that the ill-assorted couple booked passages on the S.S. +<I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't going to be a picnic, I can see," soliloquized Peter, as he +glanced to wind'ard. "It's up to me to do something now. I wonder if +the Old Man would have logged me for this? Decent old chap, Bullock. +I suppose he's gone." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn was steering due east by compass. He had no idea of the +magnetic variation in this part of the Indian Ocean, neither had he any +knowledge of the deviation of that particular compass. By steering due +east he was hoping to effect a landing between the north and south of +Madagascar—a fairly generous target of 1000 miles in length. +</P> + +<P> +It was responsibility with a vengeance. Not only had the Wireless +Officer to take over executive duties; he had to navigate the boat, +regulate the supply of food and water, and maintain discipline until +such times as Preston recovered and was able to take command. Judging +by the injured man's appearance that day was still very remote. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Peter Mostyn, hiked by fate into the joys and difficulties of +command, accepted the situation with typical British grit. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll just carry on and make the best of it," he decided. "It won't be +for want of trying if I don't get the boat safely to shore." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Tidings from the Sea +</H3> + +<P> +"It's about time we had a letter from Peter from Cape Town, isn't it?" +inquired Mrs. Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn deliberately lighted a cigarette while he worked out a +mental sum. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," he replied. "Give the Royal Mail a chance, old lady. We +heard from the boy from Las Palmas. That ought to keep you satisfied +for another week or so. By that time we ought to see the announcement +of the <I>West Barbican's</I> arrival at Pangawani. Let me see: it was ten +days ago when we saw the news of her departure from Durban. By Jove, +old lady, we'll have a jollification when we know that the steelwork is +handed over to the Kilba Protectorate Government." +</P> + +<P> +There was no doubt about it. Captain Mostyn was worrying over the +contract. The actual manufacturing of the bridge material had caused +him very little anxiety. The keenness with which he had followed the +work, the personal attention he gave to all the details, and the +professional supervision of the whole process of manufacture had kept +him busy both mentally and physically. But from the time the +consignment was shipped on board the <I>West Barbican</I> at Brocklington he +was metaphorically on pins and needles. +</P> + +<P> +The contract was to include delivery at Pangawani. There were certain +risks in the long sea passage that were to be taken into account. +Unavoidable accidents might occur, that the most skilful master in the +Merchant Service could not avert. Pangawani Harbour, with its shifting +bar, had a sinister reputation in insurance company circles. That fact +had resulted in the refusal of every underwriter whom Captain Mostyn +approached to insure the steelwork to anything like its full value. +The best terms he could obtain were 75 per cent, while the <I>West +Barbican</I> was between the United Kingdom and Table Bay, and 66-2/3 per +cent between Table Bay and Pangawani. That meant the bankruptcy of the +Brocklington Ironworks Company should the steelwork fail to reach its +destination, since every pound of available capital had been sunk in +Captain Mostyn's "great push". +</P> + +<P> +Curiously enough, his anxiety was solely for the safety of the +steelwork. The knowledge that his son was on the very boat that was +taking out the consignment hardly entered into his calculations. An +indescribable faith in Peter caused him to regard the lad as being well +able to take care of himself, happen what might. The ship might be +lost, but Peter would be sure to come out all right. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn and his wife were still discussing the movements of the +<I>West Barbican</I>, and speculating upon the date of her arrival at +Pangawani, when one of the maids brought in the evening paper, which +was regularly left at the house by a newsboy from the village. +</P> + +<P> +The Captain's first consideration was given to the Shipping List. The +<I>West Barbican</I> did not appear. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you so, my dear," he remarked. "We'll have to wait a little +longer. Let me see; you want the serial page. Here you are." +</P> + +<P> +Peter's father, always methodical, took a paper-knife from the +writing-bureau and carefully cut the newspaper in half. Handing the +back page to his wife, he settled down to read the news, +notwithstanding the fact that most of it was reproduced from the London +dailies, which he had already digested early that morning. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mostyn settled down for a comfortable evening. The fire was +burning brightly in the open well-grate, the arm-chair was most +comfortable. With the serial page and a half-finished jumper to work +at while she read, Mrs. Mostyn meant to have a quiet and restful +evening's amusement. +</P> + +<P> +Presently she finished the instalment of the serial. She hardly knew +what to think of it. Its abrupt ending made her angry with the author, +or whoever was responsible for the conclusion, while the thrilling +curtain left her on thorns as to what was going to happen in the next +instalment. The rest of the page usually contained very little of +feminine interest, consisting mainly of sporting topics and lurid +testimonials to so-and-so's patent medicines. +</P> + +<P> +Quite casually her eye caught sight of a badly printed paragraph in the +Stop Press column. She read it through without the full significance +of it coming home to her. Then she re-read it slowly and haltingly, as +if every word was burning into her brain. +</P> + +<P> +"John!" she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Half a moment, my dear," protested Captain Mostyn, deep in an article +dealing with the coal industry. +</P> + +<P> +"John!" she said again. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn glanced over the top of his half of the paper. He did +not like being disturbed. It usually meant that his wife had +discovered a stupendous bargain in the sales column, with the +inevitable result. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Heavens, old lady!" he ejaculated, greatly alarmed at the grey, +drawn expression on his wife's face. "What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mostyn did not reply. With trembling hands she gave the paper to +her husband, and pointed to the grim announcement in the Stop Press +column: +</P> + +<P> +"Lloyd's agent at East London telegraphs, 'S.S. <I>Maréchal Foch</I> arrived +here to-day with eighteen lascars, survivors of the S.S. <I>West +Barbican</I>, which foundered in the Mozambique Channel on the night of +the 22nd. No trace has been found of the ship's officers and the +remainder of the crew. Survivors cannot give any explanation of how +the disaster occurred.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Peter!" gasped Mrs. Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +Her husband was thunderstruck. The gravity of the news had taken him +completely aback. He gave no thought to the precious steelwork. His +whole concern was for his son. +</P> + +<P> +The bald announcement was serious enough in all conscience. Reading +between the lines it gave scant hope that there might be other +survivors. Was it possible that Peter had in his prime fallen a victim +to the remorseless sea? +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing very definite, my dear," he remarked as calmly as he +could. "Perhaps to-morrow we'll hear that some more boats have been +picked up. Strange things happen at sea." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mostyn shook her head. After Peter's almost miraculous return +when given up for dead, after the S.S. <I>Donibristle</I> had been reported +"overdue, missing, and believed a total loss", she could hardly hope +for a second intervention of Providence. +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut," said Captain Mostyn, his forced manner belying the doubts +that assailed him. "Why shouldn't he turn up trumps a second time? +Why, I know an old pensioner at Portsmouth who, during his twenty-one +years' sea life, was reported killed four times. And he's hale and +hearty to-day at eighty-five, or he was when I heard of him a fortnight +ago. I'll see my friend Parsons at Lloyd's to-morrow. He'll keep me +posted as to the latest news. Peter will be all right, never fear." +</P> + +<P> +But Captain Mostyn had his doubts. He knew enough about the sea to +realize the possibility of his son going down with the ship. He argued +that the disaster must have been sudden, since there was no mention of +the ill-fated <I>West Barbican</I> having sent out wireless messages for +aid. That pointed to the vessel foundering in a few minutes; in which +case there had not been time to lower all the boats. Quite likely the +one containing the eighteen lascars was the only one successfully +lowered. Again, the absence of an officer in the boat pointed to a +complete disorganization of discipline. On the face of Lloyd's +telegraphed report things looked very black indeed. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Mostyn spent a sleepless night, but he hardly gave another +thought to his financial losses. Over and over again he tried to +reconstruct the scene on board the sinking liner, with the object of +convincing himself that his son had escaped with his life. Throughout +the long night he was building up suggestions and immediately +demolishing them on account of an incontestable flaw in the theory. +</P> + +<P> +Next day Captain Mostyn went up to town by his usual train, but, +instead of proceeding to the offices of the Brocklington Ironworks +Company, he went straight to Lloyd's. Here he was informed that no +further news of the loss of the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I> had been received, +but the detailed report of the Master of the S.S. <I>Maréchal Foch</I> was +expected by cable that day. +</P> + +<P> +The same afternoon there was a hurriedly convened meeting of the +directors of the Company. None of them had noticed the announcement +concerning the <I>West Barbican</I> in the papers, and Captain Mostyn's bald +statement came as a complete surprise. No definite steps could be +taken until the ship was officially reported lost, and then only would +the underwriters pay the 66-2/3 per cent of the value of the steel-work. +</P> + +<P> +A fortnight or more passed, with nothing to break the silence that +seemed to be brooding over the loss of the <I>West Barbican</I>. For some +reason the report of the captain of the <I>Maréchal Foch</I> had not +materialized. It afterwards transpired that he was in hospital at East +London. +</P> + +<P> +At last the silence was broken by the receipt of a Press Association +cablegram from Port Louis, Mauritius: +</P> + +<P> +"Portuguese sailing ship <I>Balsamao</I>, Lorenzo Marques to Goa, arrived +here to-day with sixteen Europeans and eleven Indians, survivors of the +S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>. Names of the Europeans as follows: Anstey, +Crawford, M'Gee, Peterson, Fulwood, Selwyn, Wright, Scott, Palmer, +Partridge, Plover, Smith, Fostin, Applegarth, and Shallop (passenger)." +</P> + +<P> +A ray of hope flashed across the minds of Peter's parents. The name +"Fostin": it was possible that it was a telegraphic error for "Mostyn". +The conviction grew until Captain and Mrs. Mostyn felt perfectly +convinced that the name in question was actually supposed to represent +that of their son. +</P> + +<P> +But, alas! disillusionment came next day when Captain Mostyn paid a +visit to the offices of the Blue Crescent Line, and was given a list of +the names of the officers and crew of the ill-starred <I>West Barbican</I>. +Amongst them was: "Geo. Fostin, steward". +</P> + +<P> +"We are afraid to have to admit that Captain Bullock is amongst the +missing," said the secretary of the Blue Crescent Line to Captain +Mostyn. "One of our senior and most experienced skippers, and on his +last voyage before retiring. The Chief Officer, Mr. Preston, is also +missing, also the Wireless Officer. It can only be surmised that they +stuck to the ship to the last and went down with her. The Wireless +Officer's name is—let me see." +</P> + +<P> +The official referred to the list in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"The same as yours, sir," he continued. "A relation, perhaps?" +</P> + +<P> +"My son," replied Captain Mostyn sadly yet proudly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Riding it Out +</H3> + +<P> +"What is the time, please, Miss Baird?" inquired Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Nine o'clock," replied Olive, consulting her wristlet watch, the only +one of five in the boat that had survived. +</P> + +<P> +"Too early for grub, then," continued Mostyn "We must economize. And +with water, too. It's going to be a scorching hot day." +</P> + +<P> +He omitted to add that in all probability there would be a stiffish +wind before long, possibly increasing to hurricane force. The thundery +rain, coming before the wind, pointed to a severe blow before many +hours were past. Meanwhile the breeze had dropped until the boat was +making less than one knot. +</P> + +<P> +Peter had practically shaken off the effects of his prolonged +immersion. He was feeling a bit stiff in the limbs, and had developed +a healthy hunger. The latter troubled him far more than the stiffness. +Work would relieve his cramped arms, but it would also increase the +pangs of the inner man. +</P> + +<P> +In the light breeze he could safely entrust the helm to one of the +lascars, provided he kept his weather eye lifting in case a sudden +squall swept down upon the boat. The native might or might not be able +to handle a sailing craft, but Peter was resolved to take no risks on +that score. He would rather place Olive at the helm, although in the +event of danger he meant to stick to the tiller for hours if needs be. +</P> + +<P> +"Due east, <I>mutli</I>," ordered Mostyn, having signed to the lascar to +come aft. +</P> + +<P> +The man nodded and repeated the compass course. Since Peter had +displayed his automatic the pair of lascars had been remarkably +tractable. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer's next step was to rig up a tent to shelter the +women from the blazing sun. Calling Mahmed to assist him, he lashed +the unshipped mizzen mast to the mainmast just below the goose-neck of +the latter, so that the boom could swing out in the event of a gybe +without fouling the almost horizontal ridge-pole. The after end of the +mizzen was propped up by a crutch made by lashing a couple of +boat-stretchers crosswise. Over this was spread the mizzen sail, the +ends of the ridge-tent being enclosed by means of the jib and a couple +of oilskin jackets. +</P> + +<P> +"There you are," declared Peter, surveying the result of the joint +handiwork of Mahmed and himself. "You'll be sheltered under the sail. +I would advise you both to sleep during the heat of the day." +</P> + +<P> +Olive declined, with a smile, adding that she preferred to be in the +open air. Mrs. Shallop hardly deigned to acknowledge the effort Mostyn +had made for her comfort as far as lay in the resources at his command. +</P> + +<P> +She had not been under the tent for more than a minute, when she +reappeared holding up a ring-bedecked hand for inspection. +</P> + +<P> +"I've lost a diamond out of this ring," she announced in a loud voice; +"and it's a valuable one. It cost a sovereign." +</P> + +<P> +Peter could not help smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever can one do with a female like that?" he soliloquized. "The +loss of a twopenny-halfpenny stone is of more consequence to her than +the chance of losing her life." +</P> + +<P> +Contriving to conceal his amusement he replied: "It can't have gone +very far, Mrs. Shallop, if you had it in the boat. We'll probably find +it under the bottom-boards." +</P> + +<P> +"Then make those blacks look at once," ordered the lady peremptorily. +</P> + +<P> +Peter pretended not to have heard the strident, imperious command. It +would have been waste of breath to point out that the boat could not be +searched without disturbing Preston, and that the awkwardly placed +bottom-boards could not be removed while the boat was under way. +</P> + +<P> +With a parting shot at the young officer for his incivility, Mrs. +Shallop retired to the tent and began to nag Miss Baird, who had shown +no disposition to assist in the search. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Mr. Mostyn," said the girl, when Peter warned her of the heat +of the sun. "I'm quite all right. You see, I took the precaution of +wearing a topee when we were ordered into the boat. May I steer?" +</P> + +<P> +For a second time that morning Mostyn relinquished the helm. Then, +having seen that Preston was as comfortable as possible, he sat on one +of the side-benches and chatted to the helmswoman. Even then he was +not idle, for, on the principle that "you never know when it may be +wanted", he took his automatic pistol to pieces and carefully cleaned +the mechanism, sparingly oiling the working parts with a few drops of +oil from the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know how this thing works?" inquired Peter casually. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied the girl promptly. "You have to pull back the hammer +for the first shot, and as long as the trigger is pressed the pistol +goes on firing until the magazine is empty." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder how you know," thought Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"This pistol doesn't," he explained. "Some simply act automatically as +long as the trigger is pressed. That's rather a drawback if a fellow's +a bit jumpy. He's apt to let fly a hail of bullets indiscriminately. +No! This pistol of mine cocks itself after every shot, and it requires +another pull on the trigger to fire each of the succeeding cartridges." +</P> + +<P> +"The one I saw was different," rejoined the girl. "It was my +brother's. He was killed at Ypres in '18." +</P> + +<P> +Peter politely murmured regrets, but inwardly he felt relieved that the +fellow who had instructed Olive into the mysteries of automatic pistols +was only a brother. +</P> + +<P> +Just then Preston roused slightly and asked for water. +</P> + +<P> +"Better, old man?" asked Mostyn, as he poured a few precious drops into +the baler, and held the rim to the Acting Chief's dry lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Hocussed an' sandbagged, that's what's happened to me," mumbled +Preston thickly. "Where the hooligan Harry am I?" And, with a sudden +movement, he jerked the baler out of Peter's hand. +</P> + +<P> +The man was obviously still delirious. Before Mostyn could decide what +to reply, Preston shut his eyes and went to sleep again. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn picked up the baler from where it had fallen under the +stern-bench. A couple of spoonfuls of fresh water had been wasted. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that land?" suddenly inquired Olive, pointing away on the port bow, +where a low, dark line was just visible on the horizon, looking very +much like a chain of serrated mountains. +</P> + +<P> +"Cloud bank," replied Peter briefly. Then in explanation he added: +"There's wind behind that lot, Miss Baird; probably more than we want. +It may head us too." +</P> + +<P> +Glancing into the compass hood to see that the girl was steering a +correct course, Mostyn rapped on the thwart immediately abaft the +canvas shelter in which Mrs. Shallop was either resting or brooding +over more or less imaginary grievances. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to unrig the tent," he announced. "There's a stiff breeze +bearing down on us." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like stiff breezes," retorted the lady promptly. "I'd rather +have the tent up to keep the wind out." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," replied the Wireless Officer. "It can't be done. In two +minutes the lascars will commence unrigging the tent." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn allowed a good three minutes to elapse before signing to Mahmed +and the lascars to take down the canvas. It was an absolutely +necessary step, in order to allow unimpeded access to the working +canvas, should it be required either to reef the sail or stow it +altogether. +</P> + +<P> +Having seen the task carried out, Peter proceeded to rig up a +sea-anchor. +</P> + +<P> +"It may come in jolly useful," he remarked to Miss Baird. "If we don't +want it I won't complain about useless work." +</P> + +<P> +With the assistance of the three Indians Mostyn bent a rope span to the +yard and boom of the mizzen sail. Through the centre of each span he +secured a stout grass warp, weighting the yard with the grapnel, so +that, if it became necessary to ride to the improvised sea-anchor, the +grapnel would keep the sail taut and in a vertical plane. +</P> + +<P> +By the time these preparations were completed the bank of ragged-edged +clouds had covered most of the sky to wind'ard. The sun was beginning +to become obscured, while there was an appreciable drop in the +temperature of the air. The wind had fallen away utterly, leaving the +sail hanging idly from the yard. The water no longer rippled under the +boat's forefoot. All was silent save for the creaking of the mast and +spars as the boat rolled sluggishly in the long, gentle swell. +</P> + +<P> +Keenly on the alert, Peter had taken over the helm, and was keeping a +sharp look-out to wind'ard. +</P> + +<P> +"Down sail!" he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +The canvas was lowered and stowed. As a precautionary measure Mostyn +had the sea-anchor hove overboard, trusting that at the first squall +the high, freeboarded boat would drift rapidly until brought head to +wind by the drag of the improvised floating breakwater. +</P> + +<P> +"It's coming," said Olive in a low voice, as a long-drawn shriek could +be faintly heard—the harbinger of a vicious squall. +</P> + +<P> +By now it was almost dusk, so dense were the clouds overhead. The +tropical sun had no power to penetrate the sombre masses of vapour. +Less than half a mile to wind'ard the hitherto tranquil water was white +with wind-lashed foam; while, in strange contrast, the sea-anchor was +rubbing gently alongside the boat in the perfectly smooth sea. +</P> + +<P> +Louder and louder grew the volume of sound, until with a vicious rush +the squall swept down upon the boat. For a few seconds, while she lay +broadside on, the boat heeled to such an extent, under the +wind-pressure upon her high sides, that the water was actually pouring +in over the lee gunwale. Then, spinning round as the grass rope +attached to the sea-anchor tautened, the boat rode head to wind and sea. +</P> + +<P> +In a brief space of time the terrific gusts had raised quite a +mountainous sea, with deep troughs and short, sharp crests which, torn +by the blasts into clouds of spindrift, flew completely over the boat. +So far she had ridden it out splendidly, the sea-anchor breaking the +more dangerous waves in a manner that was quite astonishing. Yet the +while the grass rope was snubbing wickedly in spite of its natural +springiness. Through the clouds of spray Peter could see that the +lascars for'ard were betraying considerable uneasiness lest the rope +should part. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn too realized the danger. He regretted that he had not doubled +the rope, but now nothing could be done beyond putting a temporary +"parcelling" round it where it passed through the bow fairlead. +</P> + +<P> +More than once the Wireless Officer gave a hurried glance at Miss +Baird. Outwardly the girl seemed perfectly self-possessed, and, with +her natural thoughtfulness, she was sitting on the stern-gratings and +doing her best to keep the still delirious Preston from sliding from +side to side with the erratic and disconcerting motion of the boat. +</P> + +<P> +The squall lasted for perhaps five minutes. Then, after a lull, came +another series of vicious blasts from a different point, that was +almost at right angles to the direction of the initial squall. This +had the effect of raising a nasty cross-sea, accompanied by a +torrential downpour of rain. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, at less than a couple of cable-lengths to windward, appeared +the misty outlines of a tramp steamer. She was labouring badly, +rolling almost rail under and throwing up showers of spray high above +her bridge. +</P> + +<P> +Standing up and keeping his feet with difficulty Mostyn frantically +waved to the vessel. Mahmed followed his example and also hailed in +his high-pitched key. Shouting was useless. No volume of sound short +of that of a fog-horn could possibly have carried that distance in the +face of the howling elements. +</P> + +<P> +The next instant the temporary clearing of the downpour gave place to a +blinding deluge. The steamer vanished as utterly as if she had +suddenly plunged to the bed of the ocean. +</P> + +<P> +"Has she seen us?" inquired Olive, raising her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fraid not," replied Peter, still staring in the direction where he +had last seen the tramp. "Couldn't do much if she did in this dust-up. +I'll risk a rocket, any old way." +</P> + +<P> +Some time elapsed before a rocket could be taken from its airtight +case, and the touch-paper ignited. Then with a hiss the detonating +signal soared obliquely upwards, its intended course deflected by the +terrific wind. +</P> + +<P> +It burst at less than a hundred feet in the air, but the report was so +faint and the flash so weak that Mostyn could only reiterate his doubts +as to whether the tramp could see or hear anything. +</P> + +<P> +"It's lucky she didn't run us down," he added. "I know those +blighters. They think they've got the whole ocean to themselves and +carry on at full speed. In fog it's often the same, the idea being to +get into better weather as soon as possible." +</P> + +<P> +For another ten minutes it blew hard, but, thanks to the improvised +sea-anchor, the boat was making very little leeway and riding head to +wind. Occasionally the crested tops of the cross-seas flopped in over +the gunwale, and the two lascars were kept baling steadily. Olive and +Mahmed were tending the still delirious Preston, the former holding him +to prevent further injuries to his badly damaged head, while the boy +kept a strip of painted canvas over the Acting Chief's body to shelter +him from the rain and spray. Mrs. Shallop was the only idler. +Refusing Peter's offer of his oilskin, she sat huddled up on the +bottom-boards, with the water swirling over her feet and her clothing +saturated with the torrential rain. Too dispirited to use her voice in +complaint, she sat and shivered in morose silence, posing as a martyr +and yet getting no sympathy from anyone. +</P> + +<P> +At length the wind ceased, although the rain continued in violence. +This had the effect of calming the water considerably, and Peter took +the opportunity of ordering the lascars to spread out the square of +painted canvas, and catch as much rain as possible to augment the +precious store of fresh water. +</P> + +<P> +Within an hour the sky cleared and the wind freshened into a one-reef +breeze. The sea-anchor was taken in and sail again set; but there was +the disquieting knowledge that the wind was dead in their teeth. +Either the boat must be kept "full and bye", gaining little or nothing +on each tack, or Mostyn must "up helm" and retrace his course on the +chance of making the now far-distant Mozambique shore, which meant that +the previous sixteen-hour run was utterly wasted. +</P> + +<P> +"If only we had a motor!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Mostyn's Watch +</H3> + +<P> +Just before sunset the wind dropped to a flat calm. Peter took +advantage of the practically motionless conditions to employ the +fishing-lines that had been discovered in the after locker. The hooks +were sharpened by means of the sandpaper fixed to the solitary box of +matches in the boat. Small pieces of biscuit, soaked in water and +rolled between the finger and thumb, served as bait. The lines were +old and far from sound, but might be relied upon to bear a steady +strain of about seven pounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Do we fish on the bottom, Mr. Mostyn?" asked Olive facetiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, rather," replied Peter, entering into the jovial spirit. "That +is, if your line is long enough. We're only about a mile from the +nearest land, and that's immediately beneath us." +</P> + +<P> +Olive lowered her line steadily. Before she had paid out half of it +there was a perceptible jerk and the line slackened. +</P> + +<P> +"I've struck soundings," she reported. +</P> + +<P> +At first Mostyn thought that the girl was still joking, but an +exclamation from one of the lascars, who was lowering one of the lines, +convinced him that the lead weights had touched something of a solid +nature. +</P> + +<P> +Taking Miss Baird's line, Peter held it between his extended first and +middle fingers. He could distinctly feel the lead trailing over a hard +bottom, as the boat was carried along by a slight current. +</P> + +<P> +"Strange," he ejaculated. "We're in less than five fathoms. I had no +idea that there was a shoal hereabouts." +</P> + +<P> +Steadying himself by the mast, Mostyn stood upon the gunwale and +scanned the horizon. North, south, east, and west the aspect was much +the same—an unbroken expanse of water, differing in colour according +to the bearing. To the east it was sombre, to the west the sea was +crimson, as it reflected the gorgeous tints of the setting sun. +</P> + +<P> +"No land in sight," he reported. +</P> + +<P> +The shoal proved to be a good fishing-ground, for, before the short +tropical dusk had given place to night, a dozen fair-sized fish, +somewhat resembling the herring of northern waters, had been hauled +into the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the use of them after all?" inquired Olive. "We can't cook +them, and raw fish are uneatable." +</P> + +<P> +"Unpalatable, Miss Baird," corrected Peter. "It is just likely that we +shall have to eat them. To-morrow we'll try curing them in the sun." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't we fry them over the lamp?" asked the girl, who obviously had +not taken kindly to the suggestion that the fish should be sun-cured. +She was extremely practical on most points, but she drew the line at +dried but otherwise raw herrings. +</P> + +<P> +"You might try cooking for yourself, Miss Baird," said Peter dubiously. +"You see, we have to economize in oil almost as much as with water; but +I think we can stretch a point in your favour." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case I'd rather not," rejoined the girl decidedly. "It +wouldn't be fair to the rest, and there's the oil to be taken into +consideration. I hadn't thought of that." +</P> + +<P> +Having caught sufficient fish for their needs, the anglers hauled in +their lines and stowed them away. Peter then shared out half a biscuit +apiece and a small quantity of water. This time Mrs. Shallop was not +too proud to accept the meagre fare. She ate her portion of biscuit, +and even suggested to her companion that if Olive had more than she +wanted she could give it to her. +</P> + +<P> +Watches were then set for the night, Mahmed and one of the lascars +taking from eight till two, and Peter and the other lascar from two +till eight; the time being determined by Miss Baird's watch. This +meant a long trick, but it was unavoidable. The three natives had been +standing easy most of the day, while Peter had had no sound sleep for +nearly thirty hours. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not going to sleep in that tent, Mr. Mostyn," declared Olive, +with an air of finality, speaking in a low voice. "I'd much rather +curl up on the bottom-boards. It's not nearly so stuffy." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it because Mrs. Shallop has been jawing?" asked Peter. "I'll tell +you what; there's a square of spare canvas sufficient to rig you up a +shelter between those two thwarts." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother!" exclaimed Mrs. Shallop, who, when she wanted, was +marvellously quick of hearing. "You can have the tent. I'll sleep +outside." +</P> + +<P> +And, before the astonished Peter and Olive could say anything, Mrs. +Shallop snatched up the piece of canvas and went for'ard. +</P> + +<P> +"She's ashamed of herself and is trying to make good, I think," +suggested Mostyn. "Well, your pitch is queered, Miss Baird, but +there's the tent." +</P> + +<P> +Without a word Olive disappeared behind the flap. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn could rely upon Mahmed to keep his companion "up to scratch", so +with an easy mind the Wireless Officer went for'ard, wrapped himself in +his oilskin, and was soon sleeping soundly on the bottom-boards. +</P> + +<P> +He was awakened by Mahmed at the stipulated hour. In his drowsiness it +was some moments before he realized where he was, and it rather +perplexed him to find his boy shaking him by the shoulder without the +customary "Char, sahib". +</P> + +<P> +It was a bright, starlit night. The wind was soft and steady, and the +boat was rippling through the water at at least four knots. +</P> + +<P> +Going aft, Mostyn peered at the compass. There was sufficient light to +enable the helmsman to steer without having to use the candle-lamp of +the binnacle. The course was still sou'-east, or four points south of +the desired direction. It was as close as the boat could sail; even +then she made a lot of leeway. +</P> + +<P> +"Not'ing to report, sahib," declared Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," was the rejoinder. "Carry on." +</P> + +<P> +The lascar told off to share Mostyn's watch came aft, rubbing his eyes +and yawning. +</P> + +<P> +"Me no well, sahib," he said. "Me tink me die." +</P> + +<P> +"Take the wheel," ordered Peter, using the term instead of tiller, +since the lascar was well acquainted with the word "wheel". +</P> + +<P> +The man grasped the tiller without another word. His little ruse was a +"wash-out", and, finding that his imaginary ailment received no +sympathy, he carried on as if nothing had happened. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn then proceeded to attend to his injured brother-officer, washing +his wounds and feeding him with biscuit. +</P> + +<P> +Preston was still very weak, but quite rational in his speech. His +prolonged sleep had restored his mental powers, but he was unable to +move without assistance. +</P> + +<P> +"What's happened, old man?" he inquired. "I've been racking my brains +to find out how I got laid out. I remember lowering away the boat, and +after that everything's a blank." +</P> + +<P> +"You got a smack with the lower block swaying," replied Peter. "At +least that's what I was told. They didn't pick me up for a couple of +hours or more after the ship went down." +</P> + +<P> +"And the Old Man?" asked Preston. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer shook his head sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fraid he's done in," he answered. "When the ship disappeared he was +with me on the bridge. I never set eyes on him after that." +</P> + +<P> +"Rough luck," murmured Preston. "His last voyage before he went on the +beach with a pension. Sound old chap too, although hard to get on with +at times." +</P> + +<P> +"One of the best," declared Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +There was silence for a few moments. +</P> + +<P> +"Mostyn, old son," exclaimed Preston. "How about a cigarette?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wish I could oblige you," replied Peter; "but there isn't a shred of +tobacco in the boat. I had my case full in the wireless-room when she +sank—a silver presentation case—and I quite forgot to ram it into my +pocket." +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief smiled wanly, and immediately regretted having done +so. It was a painful process, with one side of his face battered. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to have known better than that," he remarked reprovingly. +"Especially as you've been through much the same sort of thing before. +Tobacco takes the edge off a fellow's hunger. I suppose your case was +watertight?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," replied Peter. "But since I haven't got it I don't see +that it matters." +</P> + +<P> +"Mostyn, dear old thing, you don't deserve pity," said Preston. "Just +feel in the inside pocket of my coat. Luckily I haven't been in the +ditch." +</P> + +<P> +Peter did as requested, and drew out a cardboard box containing nearly +a hundred Virginias. +</P> + +<P> +"Lifted 'em from the Chief Steward's cabin," explained the Acting +Chief. "They would have gone to Davy Jones if I hadn't. Take charge +of them, old man. They'll last the pair of us for a fortnight, and by +that time——" +</P> + +<P> +"How about the lascars?" asked Pater. +</P> + +<P> +"Mohammedans," rejoined Preston briefly. "They aren't allowed to +smoke. At least," he added, "I don't think they do. Of course, +they'll come in if they want any. We'll see. Light up for me, old +fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"We collared a box of matches from you," said Peter. "These are all we +have on board. They are yours, of course, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Do they strike?" asked the Acting Chief. "I've had them for at least +a twelvemonth. Sort of emergency issue, don't you know. Try my +pockets, old son. I've a lighter somewhere, I'll stake my affidavit on +that—— Gently, old man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," exclaimed the Wireless Officer. "By Jove, Preston, you are a +marvel." +</P> + +<P> +"Rot!" ejaculated the other in self-depreciation. "Merely a case of +looking after one's own interests." +</P> + +<P> +Placing the end of a cigarette between Preston's lips Peter lit it. +The Acting Chief grunted contentedly. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a box of Turkish delight in my pocket," he continued. "Take +it and hand it to the womenfolk. All the joy hasn't gone out of life +yet, Sparks. Light up and get happy." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn did so. Never before had he so appreciated the soothing effect +of a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +In this complaisant state of mind he was addressed by the lascar at the +helm. +</P> + +<P> +"Mahometan smoke, Sahib; Sikh, Mahometan, too: him not smoke." +</P> + +<P> +Which resulted in the tip of another cigarette glowing in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel a jolly sight better for that," declared Preston gratefully, +when the cigarette was finished. "Think I'll have another caulk. +S'pose you don't mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," replied Peter. "Carry on. It will do you good. Are +your bandages comfortable?" +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the Acting Chief was slumbering more peacefully than +he had done since his accident. Mostyn, left to commune with his own +thoughts, squatted on the weather side of the stern-sheets so that he +could give an occasional glance at the compass, and keep an eye on the +lascar at the tiller. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long trick. It seemed as if the eastern sky would never pale +to herald the dawn of another day. +</P> + +<P> +At 4 a.m. the boat was put on the starboard tack, the wind still +heading her as before. Then, having trimmed sheets, Mostyn took the +tiller and ordered the lascar into the bows. +</P> + +<P> +At length the dawn broke—not a pale grey, as Peter had hoped for, but +with far-flung lances of vivid scarlet. That indicated rain and wind +before the day was done. +</P> + +<P> +There was a movement of the canvas awning, and, somewhat to Peter's +surprise, Miss Baird emerged cautiously, crawling, since there was no +other means of negotiating the narrow gap that served as a door. +</P> + +<P> +She was bareheaded, her hair trailing over her shoulders in two long +plaits. The outward and visible signs of her costume consisted of a +yellow oilskin. Silhouetted against the red glow of the sky she looked +as if she were outlined in deep gold. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Miss Baird," observed Peter politely. "You're out +early." +</P> + +<P> +"I simply couldn't sleep any longer," replied the girl. "I hope you +don't mind my intruding upon you? What a glorious sunrise." +</P> + +<P> +"From an artistic point, yes," agreed Mostyn. "But I'm afraid we'll +get it before very long." +</P> + +<P> +"She's a safe boat," said Olive with conviction. "She isn't exactly a +yacht, but, personally, I'm rather enjoying it." +</P> + +<P> +"Even on short rations?" inquired Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Up to the present, yes," was the reply. "It's rather a novelty being +served out with biscuits, but I'm not looking forward to the sun-dried +herrings." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said Peter, producing the box of Turkish delight, "these +will prove a welcome substitute for the herrings. No, don't thank me. +Preston's the fellow." +</P> + +<P> +With her eyes sparkling, Olive proceeded to count the luscious squares. +Mostyn looked on, wondering at the reason of her act. +</P> + +<P> +"Sixty-three, sixty-four," concluded the girl. "That's thirty-two for +Mrs. Shallop. You'll be witness, Mr. Mostyn, that it's a fair divide?" +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer had said nothing about sharing the sweetmeats. +Olive's generosity and fairness were all the more apparent. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm out of a post, Mr. Mostyn," she continued, with a light-hearted +laugh. "Mrs. Shallop and I are not on speaking terms." +</P> + +<P> +"That rather gives you a free hand. I'm very glad," said Peter gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," admitted the girl. "She has certainly been a bit trying of +late. Do have a piece of Turkish delight?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks," he declined. "Your share won't go very far. Besides, +I'm in luck too. Preston had a big box of cigarettes in his pocket. +So you're pleased to be free of Mrs. Shallop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather," replied the girl whole-heartedly. "The only thing that +troubles me is how I am to get home again, if we come through this +adventure safely." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about that, Miss Baird," declared Peter boldly. "I'll see +you safely home. You can be quite independent of that woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much," said Olive gratefully, and almost unconsciously +she laid her hand lightly upon Peter's arm. +</P> + +<P> +A thrill of pleasure swept across the Wireless Officer's mind. Then, +as if to seal the compact, the tropical sun in all its glory appeared +above the rim of the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a woman," exclaimed a strident voice from inside the tent. +"I'm a lady. I am really. My father was a naval officer—a captain." +</P> + +<P> +The man and the girl looked at each other. Olive's face was wreathed +in smiles. Peter actually winked. In the Eden that he had created the +presence of the Serpent was of no account. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Aground +</H3> + +<P> +The rest of the day until four in the afternoon passed almost +uneventfully. The breeze still held, but blew steadily from the same +quarter with hardly a point difference in eighteen hours. With one +reef in the mainsail the boat had all she could carry with comfort, +and, save for an occasional fleck of foam over the weather bow, was dry +and fairly fast. +</P> + +<P> +The disconcerting doubt in Peter's mind was whether the boat was making +good to wind'ard. Apparently she was, but whether the leeway +counter-balanced the distance made good, or whether the boat was +actually losing on each tack remained at present an insolvable problem. +</P> + +<P> +During the greater part of the day the heat of the sun was tempered by +the cool breeze, but late in the afternoon more indigo-coloured clouds +began to bank up to the east'ard. The roseate hues of early morn were +about to vindicate themselves as harbingers of boisterous weather. +</P> + +<P> +"Sea-anchor again, I suppose," soliloquized the skipper of the boat. +"Beat and beat and beat again, then drift to lee'ard all we've made. +We'll fetch somewhere some day, I expect." +</P> + +<P> +He rather blamed himself for not having put the helm up directly the +previous gale had blown itself out. Running before the easterly breeze +would have brought the boat within sight of the Mozambique coast before +now. On the other hand, how was he to know that the easterly breeze +would hold for so many hours? It rarely did. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a gamble," he thought philosophically. "I've backed the wrong +horse. I've got to see this business through." +</P> + +<P> +Once more the tent was struck. This time Mrs. Shallop, who had taken +possession when Olive came out, made no audible protest. Possibly she +was too busy eating Turkish delight. In that respect she acted upon +the principle of "Never leave till to-morrow what you can eat to-day". +</P> + +<P> +The sea-anchor was prepared ready to heave overboard. Loose gear was +secured, and the baler placed in a convenient spot to commence +operations should a particularly vicious sea break into the boat. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness set in. No stars were visible to mitigate the intense +blackness of the night. The candle-lamp of the boat-compass had to be +lighted in order to enable the helmsman to keep the craft on her +course. Its feeble rays faintly illuminated Peter's face as he +steered. Beyond that it was impossible to distinguish anybody or +anything in the boat, the bows of which were faintly silhouetted +against the ghostly phosphorescence of the foam thrown aside by the +stem. +</P> + +<P> +So far there was no necessity to ride to the sea-anchor. The wind, +slightly increasing in force, demanded another reef in the mainsail. +No doubt the boat would have stood a whole mainsail, but Peter was too +cautious and experienced to risk "cracking on" in a lightly trimmed +craft unprovided with a centreboard or even a false keel. +</P> + +<P> +The two lascars were told off to tend the halliards, Mahmed stood by +the mainsheet, while Peter steered. The latter, his senses keenly on +the alert, was listening intently for the unmistakable shriek that +presages the sweeping down of a squall. In the utter darkness the +sense of hearing was the only means of guarding against being surprised +by a violent and overpowering blast of wind. +</P> + +<P> +"It may not be so bad after all," he remarked to Olive, who had +insisted on keeping by him at the tiller. "There's rain. I expected +it. Luckily it's after the wind, so the chances are we've seen the +worst of it." +</P> + +<P> +It was now nearly ten o'clock. The boat had been footing it strongly, +since Peter had eased her off a point. The seas were high—so high +that between the crests the boat was momentarily becalmed. Yet, thanks +to Mostyn's helmsmanship, she carried way splendidly, until the ascent +of the on-coming crest enabled the wind-starved canvas to fill out +again. +</P> + +<P> +Very soon the few heavy drops gave place to the typical tropical +downpour. Even had it been daylight it would have been a matter of +difficulty to see a boat's length ahead. In the darkness it seemed +like crouching under a waterfall. Breathing resulted in swallowing +mouthfuls of moisture-laden air. In less than half a minute from the +commencement of the downpour, there was an inch or more of water over +the bottom-boards in spite of Mahmed's strenuous work with the baler. +</P> + +<P> +Contrary to Peter's expectations, the strength of the wind did not +appreciably diminish, but the rain had the effect of considerably +beating down the crests of the waves. +</P> + +<P> +It was now quite impossible to hear anything beyond the heavy patter of +the big raindrops upon the boat. It was a continuous tattoo that +outvied the roar of the wind. At this juncture the candle of the +binnacle lamp blew out. To attempt to relight it was out of the +question. Every part of the boat's interior was subject to a furious +eddy of wind. A match would not burn a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly good enough," decided Peter, wiping the moisture from his eyes. +"I'll get canvas stowed and out sea-anchor till the worst of this is +over." +</P> + +<P> +With his disengaged hand Mostyn tapped Mahmed on the shoulder. +Desisting from his task of baling, the boy looked into his master's +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell them to stow canvas," shouted Peter, indicating the invisible +lascars crouching against the main thwart. "I'll tend the mainsheet. +Look sharp!" +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed raised himself and began to crawl over the thwarts on his way +for'ard. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there was a terrific shock. The boat seemed to jump a couple +or three feet vertically, and then come to an abrupt stop with a jar +that flung Peter from the tiller, and pitched Mahmed headlong until he +was brought up by his head coming into contact with Mrs. Shallop's +portly back. Olive, taken unawares, was jerked in a for'ard direction, +until she saved herself from violent contact with stroke-bench by +grasping Peter's arm. The pair subsided upon the gratings, narrowly +missing what might have been a serious collision with the helpless +Preston. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn regained his feet in double quick time, and made a grab at the +tiller. The boat was aground, lifting to every wave that surged +against her port-bow. That she was badly damaged there could be no +doubt, since water was pouring in through a strained garboard. +</P> + +<P> +Steadying himself by the now useless tiller, Peter peered anxiously +into the darkness. Except for the phosphorescence of the breaking +water alongside, there was nothing distinguishable. Sea and sky were +blended into a uniform and impenetrable darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Everyone on board the boat, although fully aware of the immediate +danger, maintained silence. The grinding of the boat's planking upon +the sharp rocks, the howling of the wind, and the swish of the breaking +waves were the only audible sounds. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to Mostyn that, in his self-assumed position of skipper of +the boat, he must do or say something. He did neither. He could form +no sentence of encouragement; he was unable to take any action to +further safeguard the lives and interests of his companions. He felt +cool and collected, yet he had a suspicion that he "had the wind up". +Try as he would his benumbed brain would not answer to his efforts. +</P> + +<P> +It was Preston who broke the spell. Lying half-submerged in water, the +Acting Chief was taking things calmly in spite of his physical +disability. +</P> + +<P> +"Sparks, old man," he exclaimed, "you look like losing your ticket. I +do believe you've run us aground." +</P> + +<P> +The silence was broken. Peter laughed at his companion's quip. +</P> + +<P> +"We were making for land," he replied, "and now we've jolly well found +it. Get out the rockets, Mahmed." +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed had delivered Mostyn's order to the lascars. Already the sail +had been hastily lowered. Its folds served as a screen to break the +force of the wind, nevertheless, it was a difficult matter to keep a +match alight sufficiently long to ignite the touch-paper of the rocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Cheap and false economy, these things," thought Peter, as he wasted +three matches in a vain attempt to kindle the touch-paper. "Why didn't +the owners supply Verey pistols to all the boats?" +</P> + +<P> +At length the fuse began to sizzle. An anxious fifteen seconds ensued. +More than once the minute sparks looked as though they had given out, +only to reappear with a healthier glow. +</P> + +<P> +Then with a swish the rocket soared skywards, although with an erratic +movement as it was caught and tossed about by the wind. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn made no attempt to follow its course with his eyes. Holding a +hand to his brows he gazed in the direction in which he expected to see +land. +</P> + +<P> +A vivid glare overhead, as the rocket threw out a series of blue +star-shells, revealed what he wanted to know. Eighty or a hundred +yards ahead was a line of cliff, fronted by a gently shelving stretch +of sand. The boat had struck on the apex of a reef. She was neither +on a lee nor a weather shore, but rather on the dividing line of each. +</P> + +<P> +"Good enough," shouted Peter encouragingly. "Light the lantern, +Mahmed." +</P> + +<P> +The boy succeeded in getting the lamp alight. Even its feeble glimmer +put a different complexion upon things. +</P> + +<P> +Beckoning the lascars aft, Mostyn sent one of them back again to bend +the warp to the anchor and throw the latter overboard, in case the +badly damaged boat should be washed off the reef. +</P> + +<P> +This done, the question arose: how were the women and Preston to be +taken ashore? +</P> + +<P> +"Take Mr. Preston," said Olive. "I can walk." +</P> + +<P> +"Easy enough if it's shoal water right up to the beach, Miss Baird," +rejoined Peter, "That we'll have to find out. I think I'll rope you +together." +</P> + +<P> +Preparations for abandoning the boat having been completed, Peter led +the way, holding aloft the lantern. Behind him came the two lascars, +carrying the helpless Acting Chief. Olive followed, helping Mahmed to +assist Mrs. Shallop, who was uttering unheeded complaints about +everybody and everything. To guard against the possibility of any of +the party being swept away by the undertow, the halliards had been +unrove and were used as a life-line. +</P> + +<P> +It was not an easy passage. The rocks were of coral and irregular in +shape, with fairly deep fissures and sharp, jagged crags. Over these +ledges the breakers surged, throwing clouds of spray twenty feet or +more into the air. +</P> + +<P> +Sounding with the boathook Peter proceeded warily. At frequent +intervals he was waist-deep in water. Impeded by the drag of the +life-line, half suffocated by the salt-laden spray, and constantly +slipping on the kelp-covered rocks, he held on his way, wondering how +the others fared, until he gained the dry sand. +</P> + +<P> +The lascars had risen nobly to the occasion. Their solicitude towards +their disabled officer was so great that Preston felt very little +discomfort. Uncomplainingly they had endured torments from the sharp +rocks, that had cut their light footwear almost to ribbons. +</P> + +<P> +Olive Baird had made light of her part of the business, although both +she and Mahmed had their work cut out to half drag, half carry the +portly figure entrusted to their care. Mrs. Shallop seemed utterly +indifferent to the danger and inconvenience of the passage ashore. Her +chief anxiety, expressed in peevish accents, was regarding the loss of +her "valuable" diamond, which might either be in the boat or else +washed through the gaping seams into the trackless waste of sand. +</P> + +<P> +With feelings of thankfulness Peter marshalled his flock under the lee +of the cliffs. A hasty examination by means of the lantern resulted in +the discovery that the beach was well above high-water mark, so that +there was no necessity to undertake the hazardous task of scaling the +cliffs in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we, do you think, Peter?" asked Olive. She had dropped the +"Mister" quite naturally, since Mostyn had declared his intention of +seeing her home. +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhere in Madagascar," replied Peter. "Where, exactly, I have no +idea. We'll probably find out from the first natives we come across." +</P> + +<P> +"Are they savages?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly. They used to be half civilized only a few years ago, I +believe," replied Peter. "Thanks to the beneficent efforts of the +French Government, when Madagascar became a dependency of France, they +are now orderly and well conducted. Excuse me, Miss Baird, but there +are one or two things I have to see to." +</P> + +<P> +Calling to the two lascars, and bidding Mahmed stay with the rest of +the party, Peter took the lantern and walked to the water's edge. The +tide was fast receding, and most of the ledge was above the water. +</P> + +<P> +Satisfied on this score Mostyn made his way back to the boat, the +lascars following. Apparently the stranding had occurred at the top of +high water, and the wrecked craft was now perched upon a jagged ledge +of coral. She had not altered her position, except for lying well over +on her port bilge keel. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the boat was stripped of every piece of movable gear. +Twice the salvage party returned to the boat, until nothing was left +but the bare hull. +</P> + +<P> +Work for the night was not yet over. By the aid of the masts, sails, +and spars, four tents were rigged up under the lee of the cliffs, and a +fire was made with the dry kelp and driftwood, augmented by a few +detached planks from the boat. A double ration of biscuit and water +was served all round, followed by cigarettes for the men and Turkish +delight for Mrs. Shallop and Olive. The last commodity came entirely +from the latter's share, since the naval officer's daughter had already +eaten hers. Yet without the faintest compunction, and looking upon +Olive's generosity as a right, the worthless woman had no hesitation in +asking her former paid companion for more. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll buy some at the first shop we see," she added, as if Africa's +largest island was a hot-bed of up-to-date confectionery stores. +</P> + +<P> +To this the girl made no reply. In fact, she had hardly heeded the +fatuous remark. Gazing into the comforting glow of the fire, she was +deep in thought as to what the future held in store for the handful of +survivors from the S.S. <I>West Barbican</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Island +</H3> + +<P> +With the first streaks of dawn, Peter, who had been sleeping soundly in +the open, with his feet towards the still glowing embers, shook himself +like a great mastiff, and stretched his cramped limbs. It had been a +strange sensation sleeping on the hard ground after days and weeks on +the ocean. Some moments elapsed before he was fully aware of his +surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +He looked seawards. The flood-tide was making, and the wavelets were +lapping against the edge of the serrated reef. The boat was still +aground. Her anchor warp had not tautened, so that it was obvious that +she had not shifted her position on the top of the previous high water. +</P> + +<P> +The wind had piped down considerably, but was now blowing softly from +the west'ard. During the night the breeze had veered completely round +from east to west. +</P> + +<P> +"Just our luck!" thought Peter. "Now we have fetched Madagascar after +beating for hours against it, the wind shifts round. It would have +saved us hours if it had been in this quarter for the last twenty-four +hours. However, here we are, so I mustn't grouse." +</P> + +<P> +None of his companions showed signs of stirring. Silence reigned in +the tents. The scent of the morning air was mingled with the pleasing +reek of the camp-fire. Farther along the coast a number of seagulls +were hovering over some object and screeching, as they warily circled +round the coveted piece of flotsam. +</P> + +<P> +From where Peter stood, the landscape was rather limited. Less than a +mile to the nor'ard a bluff of about two hundred feet in height served +as the boundary of his vision in that direction. Southward the wall of +cliffs terminated abruptly at a distance of about a quarter of a mile. +Evidently beyond that the coastline receded, unless the light were +insufficient to enable the more distant land to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +"May as well stretch my legs," thought Peter. "I'll have a shot at +getting to the top of the cliffs and see what's doing. I wonder how +far it is to the nearest village?" +</P> + +<P> +He had to walk a hundred yards along the beach before he found a likely +means of ascent—a narrow gorge through which a clear stream dashed +rapidly. Yet the rivulet never met the sea direct. The water, +although of considerable volume, simply soaked into the sand and +disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +"We shan't need to go slow with the drinking-water," he said to +himself, as he gathered a double handful of the cool, sparkling fluid +and held it to his lips. "By Jove, isn't that a treat after water from +a boat's keg. Well, here goes." +</P> + +<P> +The ascent was steep but fairly easy. Nevertheless Mostyn was so out +of training, from a pedestrian point of view, that his muscles ached +and his limbs grew stiff long before he arrived at the top. +</P> + +<P> +At length, breathless and weary, he gained the summit and threw himself +at full length upon the grass. +</P> + +<P> +After a while he stood up and looked around. The sun was just +rising—and it appeared to rise out of the sea. From where he stood, +Peter could see right across the ground from west to east and from +north to south; and, save where the tall bluff cut the skyline, sea and +sky formed a complete circular horizon. +</P> + +<P> +Peter gave a gasp of astonishment. Instead of finding himself, as he +had expected, upon one of the largest islands of the world, he was on a +sea-girt piece of land barely three miles in length and two in breadth. +In vain he looked for other land. The extent of his view, assuming +that the point on which he stood was two hundred feet above the +sea-level, was a distance of roughly twenty miles, and, except for the +island upon which the boat had stranded, there was nothing in sight but +sky and sea. +</P> + +<P> +"So much for Madagascar," ejaculated the Wireless Officer. "I'm a +rotten bad navigator. Wonder where this show is, and if it is +inhabited." +</P> + +<P> +For the most part the island consisted of a fairly level plateau +covered with scrub. The southern part was well wooded with palms, +while the course of the little stream was marked by a double line of +reeds. +</P> + +<P> +In vain Peter looked for signs of human habitation. Not so much as a +solitary column of smoke marked the presence of any inhabitants. +</P> + +<P> +"This is out of the frying-pan into the fire with a vengeance," said +the Wireless Officer to himself. "We've plenty of fresh water, it is +true, but precious little to eat. And the boat is beyond repair with +the limited means at our disposal. Fire, did I say? We can obtain +that, so the possibility of having to eat raw or sun-dried fish is +removed." +</P> + +<P> +By this time the rest of the temporary sojourners on the island were +astir. From his lofty point of vantage Peter could see the three +Mohammedans at their devotions at some distance from the tents. Mrs. +Shallop was actually out and about, and had deigned to fetch a balerful +of water. Miss Baird had thrown fresh driftwood and kelp on the fire, +and was apparently undertaking the frying of some of the fish. Propped +up on a roll of painted canvas was Preston, slowly and steadily gutting +the herrings before grilling them in front of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, old man!" exclaimed Peter, when he rejoined the others and had +greeted Miss Baird. "Feeling better?" +</P> + +<P> +"Much thanks," replied the Acting Chief. "Soon be O.K., I hope. And +what have you been doing, Sparks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Taking my bearings," said Mostyn. "My festive chum, I've made a hash +of things. We're on an island." +</P> + +<P> +"Madagascar is an island," remarked Preston. "So why make a song about +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't Madagascar," replied Peter. "It's a small island. A +fellow ought to be able to walk right round it in a couple of hours +comfortably." +</P> + +<P> +Preston tried to whistle and failed miserably. The attempt was still +too painful. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem fond of putting boats ashore on small islands, old man," he +remarked. "How about grub? Seen anything in the edible line?" +</P> + +<P> +"A few coco-palms," announced Mostyn. "I didn't investigate. We may +strike oil." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather strike grub," rejoined the Acting Chief. "Well, there's +one blessing—we've cigarettes." +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast consisted of biscuits, fresh water, and fried fish. It was +meagre fare, but the hungry castaways relished it. They could have +eaten more, but Peter kept an iron hand on the biscuits, and fried fish +without biscuits was neither satisfying nor appetizing. +</P> + +<P> +The meal over, Mostyn set all hands—Preston excepted, by reason of his +injuries—to work. He meant to keep everybody employed—even Mrs. +Shallop. Idleness breeds discontent and discord, and he had no wish to +have either. +</P> + +<P> +The first task was to carry the tents and the small kit at their +disposal to the high ground beyond the edge of the cliffs. Peter and +the lascars managed the spars and canvas between them, while Olive and +Mrs. Shallop carried up the lighter gear. Once she made up her mind +that she had to work, Mrs. Shallop became quite energetic, finding her +way up the cliff-path with tolerable speed in spite of her bulk. By +ten in the morning the whole of the stuff brought ashore had been taken +to a spot a hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level, and placed in a +sheltered hollow within easy distance of the little stream that Peter +had discovered. +</P> + +<P> +While the two Lascars were setting up the tents, Peter and Mahmed +constructed a stretcher in order to get Preston to the new camp. +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief was practically helpless. At first it was thought +that his injuries were confined to his head; but after he had been +brought ashore his legs were found to have been crushed, and from the +knees downwards the limbs were devoid of any sensation of pain, and the +muscles incapable of responding to the dictates of his will. +</P> + +<P> +It required twenty minutes of hard yet cautious work to carry Preston +to the top of the cliffs, in spite of the fact that the path was fairly +easy for an unencumbered person. The difficulty was for the bearers to +keep their burden in a horizontal position, and at the same time +maintain their footing. For the greater part of the ascent Mahmed was +crouching and holding his end of the stretcher within a few inches of +the ground, while Peter was supporting his end on his shoulders and +cautiously feeling his way, since it was impossible for him to see +where he was treading. +</P> + +<P> +At length Preston was brought to the camp and placed in one of the +tents, while his bearers, hot and well nigh exhausted, threw themselves +at full length in order to rest and regain their breath. +</P> + +<P> +The next step was to salve the boat. This task required all available +hands, for the craft was heavily built of elm. +</P> + +<P> +By dint of strenuous exertions the boat was lifted clear of the jagged +coral, and dragged along the ledge and up the sandy beach well above +high-water mark. +</P> + +<P> +"That will do for the present," decided Mostyn. "She won't hurt there. +We'll have to patch her up and resume our voyage as soon as possible." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke sanguinely, but in his mind he realized that the task was +practically beyond the small resources at their command. With the +exception of a small rusty hatchet, that was discovered under the floor +of the after locker, a knife, and a marline-spike, there were no tools +available for the extensive repairs necessary to make the boat again +seaworthy. +</P> + +<P> +The time for the midday meal came round only too soon. Feeling like a +miser compelled to disgorge his treasured hoard, Peter served out more +of his carefully husbanded biscuits. These were augmented by coconuts, +which Mahmed and the lascars had obtained from some palms growing close +to the camp. Up to the present there were no indications of the +presence of bread-fruit trees, but, as Olive remarked, there was a good +deal of the island to be explored. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the time, Miss Baird, please?" inquired Preston. +</P> + +<P> +The girl consulted her watch. +</P> + +<P> +"Five minutes to twelve, Mr. Preston." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," rejoined the Acting Chief, then, after a slight pause, "is +your watch fairly accurate?" +</P> + +<P> +Olive shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I never possessed a fairly accurate watch," she replied. "Mine gains +about a minute a day, and every time I wind it I put it back a minute. +It was set by ship's time on the day the <I>West Barbican</I> sank." +</P> + +<P> +"Why so anxious to know the time, old man?" inquired Mostyn. "You +haven't to go on watch." +</P> + +<P> +"Never you mind, old son," rejoined the Acting Chief. "In due course +I'll enlighten your mind on the subject, but until then—nothin' doin'." +</P> + +<P> +For the next ten minutes conversation drifted into other channels. +Peter had almost forgotten about the mysterious inquiries of Mr. +Preston, when the latter inquired abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think is our position, Sparks?" +</P> + +<P> +"About fifty miles west of Madagascar," replied Peter. +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Wrong, my festive. Absolutely out of it," he stated with conviction. +"Say a hundred and fifty miles to the south'ard of Cape St. +Mary—that's the southern-most point of Madagascar—and you won't be +far out." +</P> + +<P> +"But, why——?" began the astonished Wireless Officer. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on," continued Preston. "It's now mid-summer in the Southern +Hemisphere. Consequently the sun must be overhead, or nearly so, on +the Tropic of Capricorn. Here, at midday, it's roughly five degrees +north of our zenith. That means we're well south of the island you +were making for." +</P> + +<P> +"But how's that?" demanded Mostyn. "I steered due east, and when the +wind headed us I tacked for equal periods." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you did," rejoined the Acting Chief drily. "You don't know the +deviation of the boat's compass. Neither do I, for that matter. It +might be points out on an easterly course. Again, there's a strong +current setting southward through the Mozambique Channel. Another and +by no means inconsiderable factor is that almost every boat when +close-hauled sails faster on one tack than the other. The net result +is that, unconsciously, you were faced well to the south-east instead +of making due east. However, here we are, and we must make the best of +it. Everything considered, old man, you haven't done so badly." +</P> + +<P> +By dusk everything was in order so far as their limited resources +permitted, even to the extent of building a light breastwork on the +windward side of the camp to protect the tents from storms from +seaward. The strenuous labours had kept the castaways' minds so fully +occupied that they had had no time to think about their difficulties. +</P> + +<P> +Tired in body, yet cheerful in mind, they slept the sleep that only the +healthy can enjoy. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Repairs and Renewals +</H3> + +<P> +At sunrise on the following morning Peter scaled the highest point of +the island, hoping that in the clear air his range of vision would be +increased sufficiently to make out land. +</P> + +<P> +He was disappointed. Nothing of the nature of land was in view. The +horizon, clear and well defined, surrounded him in an unbroken circle. +</P> + +<P> +He was considerably troubled in his mind over the situation. Desert +islands were all very well in their way, provided there was a chance of +getting away from them. Evidently this island was well out of the +regular steamer track, while sailing vessels, running between The Cape +and India and the Federated Malay States, would pass well to the +eastward in order to take full advantage of the monsoons. +</P> + +<P> +The boat was practically useless as a means of leaving the island. Had +there been a supply of nails in the locker, Peter would not have +hesitated to fasten a sheet of painted canvas over the holes in the +garboards, and then risked a dash for Madagascar. But without suitable +material that was out of the question. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally of an inventive turn of mind, Peter thought out half a dozen +plans to make the boat seaworthy; but, as fast as he worked out a +solution of the difficulty, objections apparently insurmountable caused +him to reject the scheme and start afresh on another tack. +</P> + +<P> +His previous error in navigation rather damped his enthusiasm, but with +Preston on the road to recovery he was no longer dependent on himself. +The Acting Chief had had years of experience of the Indian Ocean, and, +knowing the set of the chief currents and the direction of the +prevailing winds, would be of material assistance in navigating the +boat—provided she could be made seaworthy. +</P> + +<P> +Still pondering, Mostyn descended from the bluff and walked towards the +camp. A more urgent problem demanded his attention: that of catering +for the needs of his companions and himself. +</P> + +<P> +The biscuits would not last out much longer, coconuts were unsatisfying +fare, and apt to have injurious effect if used as a staple form of +food. Whether the island possessed other resources, either animal or +vegetable, had yet to be seen. Preliminary investigations had drawn +blank in that direction. +</P> + +<P> +Returning to camp, Mostyn found the others busily engaged in getting +breakfast. Mahmed had found some oysters, many of them a foot in +diameter, while the lascars had surprised and killed a small turtle. +</P> + +<P> +It was rather a curious fact that Mrs. Shallop, childishly ignorant on +most matters, was an authority on cooking. She just "took on" the +turtle as a matter of course, and by the time Peter returned the +choicest parts of the animal were stewing over a wood fire. In the +absence of a suitable pot, for the baler was far too small, the +self-constituted cook had employed the shell of the turtle as a +receptacle for the stew. The oysters were eaten raw, flavoured with +the vinegary milk of a young coco-nut. +</P> + +<P> +But the success of the meal was the result of Mahmed's investigations. +He had wandered towards the main coco-nut grove on the southern point +of the island and had discovered a number of "jack-fruits", a species +of bread-fruit. These had been sliced and roasted, forming a good +substitute for bread. The lascars, however, disdained the fruit, and +were content with the seeds, which they bruised and cooked in coconut +shells. +</P> + +<P> +For the moment the grim spectre of starvation had been driven away. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been thinking, Peter," remarked Olive during the rest-interval. +"Couldn't we make a canvas boat? We have plenty of sail-cloth, and we +could use timbers and planking out of the damaged boat." +</P> + +<P> +"Might," admitted Mostyn. "It would take some doing, and after all it +would be a frail craft to carry seven people. We might try it." +</P> + +<P> +He thought over the matter, and the more he did so the greater became +the difficulties. Even in calm water a canvas boat, unless properly +constructed of suitable materials, is a sorry craft. In the +high-crested waves of the Indian Ocean she would not stand a dog's +chance. +</P> + +<P> +Yet Olive's suggestion was not without good result. Based upon the +idea, Peter's thoughts returned to the damaged boat. Could that not be +patched with canvas and strengthened by woodwork so that it would be +once more seaworthy? +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, Olive!" he exclaimed. "I believe you've put me on the right +tack. Come on down to the boat. We'll take the lascars with us and +see what's to be done. The sooner we get away from this place the +better." +</P> + +<P> +Olive did not agree with the latter remark, although she made no +audible comment. She was rather enjoying the novelty of the situation. +Peter, on the other hand, had got over the glamour of desert islands. +An exciting time upon a coral island in the North Pacific had cured him +of that. It wasn't to be regretted from a retrospective point of view, +but he did not hanker after a repetition. +</P> + +<P> +By the aid of a tackle composed of the halliards and main-sheet blocks +the boat was canted over and finally lowered keel uppermost. The full +extent of the damage was then apparent. There was a jagged hole about +nine inches in diameter through the garboard strake and the strake next +to it on the port side about five feet from the stem. On the starboard +hand was a smaller hole close to the bilge keel, while there was a +slight fracture on the same side eighteen inches from the stern-post. +</P> + +<P> +"Rather a lash-up, what?" exclaimed Peter, as he noted the damage. +"Guess we'll be able to tackle that." +</P> + +<P> +He first directed one of the lascars to trim the jagged holes with the +axe. The next step was to smooth down the planking adjacent to the +gaps by means of canvas and wet sand. This done, the boat was lifted +on to her side and the bottom boards removed. A corner of the axe was +then employed to remove the brass screws from the stern-sheet benches, +while the gratings were sacrificed for the sake of the brass brads that +secured them. +</P> + +<P> +This task occupied the whole morning. +</P> + +<P> +After lunch, work was resumed. Strips of painted canvas, smeared with +a sticky substance smelling of turpentine, were laid over the holes and +tacked down with the brads. Over this canvas the dismembered +bottom-boards were firmly screwed. In less than an hour and a half +this part of the work was completed. +</P> + +<P> +The boat was then turned over on her keel, and the holes levelled flush +with the inside planking by means of clay found in the bed of the +little stream. Over this additional canvas was tacked and pressed into +position by strips of wood from the bottom boards, struts being fixed +between them and the under side of the thwarts to counteract the +pressure of the water. +</P> + +<P> +Well before sunset the task of making the boat water-tight was +completed, and Peter surveyed the result with intense satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow," he declared to Olive, who had been working as steadily as +anyone, "to-morrow we'll test her. I don't think she ought to leak +very much." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't we going to explore the island, Peter?" asked the girl +wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn capitulated. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, certainly, if you wish," he replied. "We can do that easily in a +few hours. I don't suppose you'll find it particularly interesting. +You see, the weather looks as if it will be fine for some days, and I +naturally want to take advantage of it. What do you say to a jaunt +before breakfast? We could take something to eat with us, of course. +That will leave the forenoon clear for testing the boat." +</P> + +<P> +This suggestion was acted upon, and soon after dawn on the following +day Peter and Olive set out on their tour of exploration. +</P> + +<P> +It was a very enjoyable walk for both: to Mostyn because of the +companionship of a jolly, unaffected girl; to Olive, because of the +novelty of it all. But there was nothing of an adventure about it. +The island was devoid of anything of a romantic nature. There were no +caves, no traces of former inhabitants. It would have taken a +high-flown imagination to weave a thrilling story round that isolated +chunk of earth rising out of the Indian Ocean. +</P> + +<P> +They saw no signs of animal life, beyond a few turtles basking on the +coral sands, and an occasional lizard scooting for shelter under the +trees. There was not a bird to be seen or heard. +</P> + +<P> +Nor did the vegetation give much variety, although Olive discovered a +grove of orange trees on the northern extremity of the island. To her +disappointment the fruit was intensely bitter and quite unfit to eat. +</P> + +<P> +They returned in time for breakfast, and were greeted warmly by +Preston. Mrs. Shallop eyed them with marked disapproval. Although she +refrained from making any remark, there was a specially sour look upon +her face. Perhaps she regretted having given her companion her +dismissal, since by so doing she no longer had control over the girl's +freedom. +</P> + +<P> +Directly the meal was over, Peter took one of the lascars down to the +beach. It was a perfect day for testing the boat, as the water was as +smooth as a millpond, and the tide being full there was little +difficulty in launching the repaired craft. +</P> + +<P> +To Mostyn's delight and satisfaction the boat answered admirably. The +canvas stood well, and beyond a few drops of water leaking through the +seams owing to the action of the sun's rays, the boat was practically +watertight. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly the good news was conveyed to the others at the camp, and +preparations were begun for the voyage. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Shallop had baked quite a quantity of jack-fruit, and had prepared +about thirty pounds of turtle-flesh, treating it with brine in order to +preserve it for future use. The water-beaker was filled at the stream, +and additional water carried in the shells of fully-matured coco-nuts. +By two o'clock in the afternoon, just as the north-east breeze sprang +up, the camp was struck and the gear stowed away on board the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, old man," said Peter to the Acting Chief; "no mistake this time. +You set the course and I'll see that it's kept." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o!" agreed Preston. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Voyage is Resumed +</H3> + +<P> +The boat lay riding to her kedge at less than twenty yards from shore. +She was in not more than two feet of water. Peter would not risk +bringing the boat closer inshore, lest, with her full complement, she +would grate over the coral and so injure herself. +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed was first on board, his duty being to assist the two lascars to +hoist Preston over the gunwale. This operation was successfully +performed without even a groan or a gasp from the injured man, and the +lascars returned to carry the portly Mrs. Shallop through the water. +</P> + +<P> +They had a difficult task this time, for the lady confessed to twelve +stone, and probably tipped the scale at fifteen. Nevertheless the +lascars tackled the job with such a will that their energy was more +than sufficient. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Shallop began to rock. The oscillations continued until in +desperation she clutched at the head of one of her bearers. At the +same moment his feet struck a particularly sharp patch of rock. Never +"strong on his pins", and additionally handicapped by an unequal share +of his fifteen-stone burden, the Indian found himself falling. The +prospect of being sandwiched between the sharp coral and the portly +mem-sahib was too much for his self-control. With a vigorous and +despairing effort he threw himself clear. The other lascar, unable to +maintain his charge, let Mrs. Shallop go with a run. +</P> + +<P> +For some seconds she floundered in eighteen inches of tepid water, her +horrified features mercifully obscured from the onlookers by a +miniature waterspout. Before Mostyn could go to her assistance she +regained her feet. For a very brief interval there was absolute +silence. Even the lapping of the wavelets upon the shore seemed to +have ceased. +</P> + +<P> +Then the storm broke. Mrs. Shallop's pent-up loquacity let itself +loose, after being kept under control for nearly forty-eight hours. +She stormed at the lascars until they took to their heels, but +fortunately they were ignorant of what she did say. Then she directed +her battery upon Peter, although he was quite at a loss to know why he +should be marked down in this fashion; while for vehemence her +expressions—to quote the immortal Pepys—"outvied the daughters of +Billingsgate". +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn suffered the storm in silence. Most people in their passions +"give themselves away", and in this instance Mrs. Shallop's outburst +simply confirmed Peter's doubts as to the lady's claims to be a naval +captain's daughter. +</P> + +<P> +But when Mrs. Shallop included Olive in her revilings Peter's square +jaw tightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Enough of this!" he exclaimed sternly. "On board—at once!" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Shallop hesitated, trying, perhaps, to find a flaw in the armour +of her youthful antagonist. For his part Peter kept his eyes fixed +steadily upon the infuriated woman, although he found himself inquiring +what he could do to enforce obedience should she prove obdurate. +</P> + +<P> +The tension was broken by Preston's gruff voice. From where he lay in +the stern-sheets the Acting Chief could see nothing of what was going +on. One ear was covered with bandages, but the other was doubly sharp +of hearing. To him a refusal to obey lawful orders was mutiny, whether +it came from a dago, "Dutchie", or, as in the present instance, from a +blindly angry woman. +</P> + +<P> +"You had one ducking by accident," he shouted. "You'll get another by +design—in double quick time—if you don't take your place in the boat." +</P> + +<P> +It was high time, Preston thought, that he had a say in the matter. It +was a drastic step to threaten a woman with physical punishment, but +there were limitations to the patience and forbearance of himself and +his companions. A person of the explosive and abusive temperament of +Mrs. Shallop in the boat was not only an unmitigated nuisance but a +positive danger. Shorthanded as they were, they could not afford to +run the additional risk of being hampered by an irresponsible passenger +should they get in a tight squeeze, when the safety of all concerned +depended upon coolness, quickness, and unhampered action. +</P> + +<P> +The prospect of another sousing quelled the termagant's spirit. Meekly +she waded to the boat and scrambled unassisted over the gunwale. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Olive!" exclaimed Peter. "To avoid a repetition of part of the +performance——" +</P> + +<P> +He lifted the girl in his arms and carried her through the water. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the lascars had returned, and the boat's complement was +now complete. The kedge was broken out and stowed, and under oars the +repaired craft headed for the open sea, where the dancing ripples +betokened the presence of a breeze—and a fair wind at that. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was at the helm, with one hand grasping the tiller and the other +shading his eyes from the dazzling sunlight. The two lascars rowed, +while Mahmed, armed with the lead-line, took frequent soundings until +the boat had drawn clear of the outlying reefs. +</P> + +<P> +"Way 'nough!" ordered Mostyn. "Hoist sail!" +</P> + +<P> +While the Indians were engaged in this operation the Wireless Officer, +handing Olive the tiller, made a hasty yet comprehensive survey of the +bilges. Except for a slight leaking 'twixt wind and water, the boat +seemed absolutely tight. The canvas patches, reinforced as they were +with woodwork, were standing the strain splendidly and gave not the +slightest indication of leaking. Whether they would withstand the +"working" of the boat in a seaway was still a matter that had to be +proved. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the course, old man?" asked Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep her at nor'-by-east," replied Preston. "Another thirty-six hours +ought to work the oracle." +</P> + +<P> +"It's nearly a dead run," reported Mostyn, after he had steadied the +boat on her course. +</P> + +<P> +"So much the better, s'long as you don't gybe her," rejoined the Acting +Chief. "Not so much chance of making leeway." +</P> + +<P> +Peter saw the force of this contention, but that did not alter the fact +that of all forms of sailing "running" was what he least liked. It +soon became apparent that there were others who were of a similar +opinion, for, as the boat rolled heavily before the hot, sultry wind, +Mrs. Shallop and the lascars were quickly <I>hors de combat</I>, showing no +enthusiasm when the first meal on board for that day was served out. +</P> + +<P> +Even Olive Baird, used as she was to sailing, felt the motion of the +boat uncomfortable. The light breeze was scarcely perceptible, +although it was making the sail draw well. Not only was the sun +pouring down with considerable strength, but the sea was reflecting hot +rays of dazzling light. +</P> + +<P> +Already the island astern was a mere pin-prick on the horizon. Ahead +and on either beam was the now monotonous expanse of sea and sky. +</P> + +<P> +Late in the afternoon a shoal of flying fish came athwart the boat's +course. Evidently they were being pursued, for they flew blindly, +several of them bringing up against the sail and dropping stunned upon +the thwarts. +</P> + +<P> +"Dolphins in pursuit, I think," explained Peter, in answer to Olive's +question. "I don't know about that, though," he added after a pause. +"Look at that." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed astern. Twenty yards away was the triangular dorsal fin of +a shark. +</P> + +<P> +"The brute," ejaculated Olive, with a slight shudder. "I hope he goes +off soon." +</P> + +<P> +But the girl's wish was not to be fulfilled. If the shark had been +chasing the flying fish he no longer did so. Perhaps he scented +promising and more satisfying fare, for without any apparent effort he +began to follow the boat, rarely increasing or decreasing the distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Hang the shark," exclaimed Peter. "Here, Olive, is a chance to show +what a good shot you are." +</P> + +<P> +He handed the girl his automatic. Without hesitation Olive took the +somewhat complicated weapon. Peter noted, with a certain degree of +satisfaction, that she handled it fearlessly, and at the same time with +proper caution. He had no cause to duck his head because of the muzzle +pointing in his direction. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't forget to release the safety-catch," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I've done so already," rejoined Olive, pulling back the mechanism that +performed the double action of cocking the pistol and inserting a +cartridge into the breech. +</P> + +<P> +It was not an easy target, even at twenty yards. Not only was the boat +yawing, but the dorsal fin of the shark was constantly on the move. +</P> + +<P> +The pistol cracked. Mostyn, intent upon preventing the boat from +gybing, had no opportunity of seeing the result of the shot. The girl, +replacing the safety catch, handed the weapon back to its owner. +</P> + +<P> +"Missed it, I'm afraid," she said. "But there's one good thing—the +shark's disappeared." +</P> + +<P> +"Scared stiff, if not hit," rejoined Peter. "Do you mind hanging on to +the tiller, while I clean out the barrel?" +</P> + +<P> +The day wore on. At six o'clock Peter roused one of the lascars, and +told him to take on for a couple of hours. Already the tent had been +rigged amidships, while the jib—useless, or nearly so, while +running—had been employed as a sun-screen for Preston. +</P> + +<P> +The sun sank to rest, its slanting rays turning the hitherto blue sea +into a pool of liquid, ruddy fire, that gave place to a spangled carpet +of indigo as the long undulations reflected the starlight. Away in the +west the young moon was on the point of setting. It was the sort of +sub-tropical evening that made the discomfort of the open boat pale by +its soothing influence. +</P> + +<P> +At eight Peter "took over". He had no desire for sleep, and was quite +content to keep watch until relieved at dawn by one of the lascars; but +he was somewhat surprised to find that Olive was likewise disinclined +to turn in. +</P> + +<P> +They watched the crescent moon dip behind the horizon; they saw the +stars pale as a slight mist rose from the waters of the Indian Ocean, +and the starlight give place to a darkness broken only by the feeble +rays of the binnacle lamp. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze on the port +quarter, and there was no longer any risk of gybing. The erratic +movement of the dead run had given way to the steadier "full and bye", +with sufficient "kick" in the helm to make steering a pleasure rather +than a monotonous routine. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the boat quivered and heeled over to starboard. The shock was +sufficient to rouse the sleepers. +</P> + +<P> +"Aground!" exclaimed Olive. +</P> + +<P> +Peter put the helm down. The boat responded instantly to the action of +the rudder. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he replied. "We've hit something. Wreckage, perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fish!" declared the girl, as with a trail of phosphorescence a +huge object darted under the keel and disappeared in the darkness. +"That shark." +</P> + +<P> +"Or another one," rejoined Peter. "There's one blessing: it isn't a +whale. Chup rao!" he called out to the jabbering lascars. +</P> + +<P> +In two or three minutes the awakened members of the boat's crew had +relapsed into slumber. Peter swung the boat back on her course, and +handed the tiller to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have a cigarette, if you don't mind," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"And one for me, old thing, while you are about it," added a bass voice +from the stern-sheets. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, Preston, I thought you were sound asleep," remarked Peter, as +he placed a cigarette to the Acting Chief's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Keeping an eye on you, old thing," retorted Preston, with brutal +candour, then in a lower tone he added. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say a word to the girl, but I believe we've sprung a leak. Hear +that? It's not the water lapping the boat's sides. It's water +trickling in fairly fast. Put a lascar on with the baler. That ought +to keep it under until we can see what's wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o," rejoined Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +He began to make his way for'ard, moving cautiously past the tent in +which Mrs. Shallop was breathing stertorously. But before he could get +to the nearest of the three Indians a wild shriek rent the air. +</P> + +<P> +For the moment Peter was under the mistaken impression that he had +trodden upon the sleeping form of Mrs. Shallop, but his fears on that +score were corrected by the lady exclaiming: +</P> + +<P> +"We're sinking. I'm in the water. Let me out! Let me out!" +</P> + +<P> +It was some time before the Wireless Officer could release the woman. +She had laced the flap of the improvised tent from the inside, +finishing up with a wondrous and intricate knot. In the darkness the +task was even more difficult. Peter solved it by wrenching one side of +the canvas away from the gunwale, and was rewarded by being capsized by +the impact of Mrs. Shallop's ponderous and decidedly moist figure. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Mahmed, acting upon his own initiative, had lighted the lamp. +By the uncertain light Peter found that his fears were realized. Water +was spurting in through a rent in the canvas patch on the gar-board +strake. +</P> + +<P> +A long, pointed object attracted his attention. It was the beak of a +large sword-fish. The creature had come into violent contact with the +boat, driving the formidable "sword" completely through the temporary +planking, two thicknesses of heavy canvas, and the intervening padding +of clay. The bone had broken off short, but the worst of the business +was that the sudden wrench had split the piece of elm forming the +outside of the patch, and through the long narrow orifice thus made, +gallons of the Indian Ocean were pouring into the boat. +</P> + +<P> +Desperately Peter strove to wrench the sword clear of the hole. It +swayed easily enough, but no amount of force at the Wireless Officer's +command enabled him to remove the long, tapering horn. +</P> + +<P> +"Bale away!" he exclaimed to the lascars, who were inertly watching +their sahib's efforts to free the swordfish's formidable spike. "Bale, +or we'll sink." +</P> + +<P> +"If you can't pull it out, push it back, old son," exclaimed Preston. +</P> + +<P> +Glancing up, Peter found the Acting Chief in a sitting position, +supporting himself with one hand grasping the after thwart. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn acted upon the advice, but he proceeded warily. It was a fairly +easy matter to knock out the sword with a metal crutch—it was merely +driving out an elongated wedge—but the question arose whether any +display of force would prise the temporary planking from its fastenings. +</P> + +<P> +At last to his satisfaction he felt the horny spike giving. After that +it moved easily. Peter pushed its point completely clear of the boat, +but the next instant the water poured in with redoubled violence, a +phosphorescent waterspout rising a good eight or ten inches above the +kelson. +</P> + +<P> +Seizing a piece of canvas Peter wedged it into the gaping hole. The +inflow was appreciably checked, but in order to withstand the pressure +it was necessary for some one to hold the "stopper" in position, until +repairs of a more substantial nature could be effected. +</P> + +<P> +Calling to one of the lascars, Peter bade him carry on with the +plugging process. +</P> + +<P> +Hot, wellnigh breathless, and spent with his exertions, Peter sat up. +He glanced aft. The feeble light from the binnacle showed him that +Olive was at the helm, calm and collected. Throughout the anxious five +minutes she had kept the boat on her course with the skill of a +master-mind—a vivid contrast to the hysterical woman whose incapacity +in a tight corner belied her oft-repeated statement as to her naval +forbears. +</P> + +<P> +And during that five minutes the breeze had freshened considerably. +Already the seas were breaking viciously, their white crests showing +ominously in the darkness. Another peril faced the crew. Could the +badly strained and leaking boat withstand the onslaught of the +threatened storm? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Picked up at Sea +</H3> + +<P> +"I'll attend to the leak, Peter," volunteered Olive. "That will leave +you free to shorten sail." +</P> + +<P> +"Topping!" exclaimed Mostyn. "Keep your foot on that pad of canvas. +Don't press too hard or the whole gadget may carry away." +</P> + +<P> +Reefing was a difficult matter, for the boat was driving heavily and +the canvas was as stiff as a board. Mostyn dared not risk lowering the +sail. The little craft had to carry way to prevent her broaching-to +and being swamped. It seemed incredible that in the short space of +five or six minutes the hitherto calm sea should have worked up into a +cauldron of crested waves and flying spindrift. +</P> + +<P> +In the contest with the elements Mostyn temporized. Putting the helm +up slightly and easing off the sheet, he released the pressure on the +canvas sufficiently to enable Mahmed and the two lascars to take in a +couple of reefs. At the same time the boat was travelling fast but was +well under control. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's hope it won't blow any harder," thought Peter. "She won't stand +much more wind, and she'd break her back if she had to ride to a +sea-anchor." +</P> + +<P> +One of the lascars came aft and reported that the reefing operation was +complete. Peter put the helm down to bring the boat back on her +course, when, with a report of a six-pounder quick-firing gun, the +tightly stretched canvas parted. Cloth after cloth was rent in rapid +succession until the severed sail streamed banner-wise before the +howling wind. +</P> + +<P> +Somewhat to Mostyn's surprise and satisfaction the boat showed no +inclination to broach-to. Possibly the fluttering canvas offered +sufficient resistance to the wind to enable her to answer to the helm. +</P> + +<P> +The next task was to set the jib as a trysail. It was almost useless +to expect the lascars to do that. Their knowledge of boat-sailing was +very elementary, having been gained in handling their native craft, and +occasionally the ship's boats under regulation rig and in charge of +their British officers. +</P> + +<P> +Ordering Mahmed to take Miss Baird's place at the leaking patch, Peter +handed the tiller over to the girl. There was no need to caution her +as to what was to be done. She knew perfectly well that safety +depended upon her ability to keep the boat's stern end on to the +following seas. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn had no fears on that score. He knew the girl's capability in +that direction by this time. Thanking his lucky stars that he was not +dependent upon the indifferent seamanship of the lascars, he went +for'ard with the jib which Preston had to relinquish as a covering. +</P> + +<P> +In almost total darkness Peter found the head and tack of the sail. +Fortunately the split mainsail was still held by the luff ropes, thus +enabling him to gather in the fiercely flogging fragments and secure +the lower block of the main halliards. +</P> + +<P> +To the latter he bent the head of the jib. It was now a fairly easy +matter to hoist the diminutive triangle of canvas and sheet it home. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll do," he exclaimed, as he relieved Olive at the helm. +</P> + +<P> +The girl nodded in reply. She was too breathless to speak. Her brief +struggle with the strongly kicking tiller had required all the strength +at her command. There was, she discovered, a vast difference between +the long tiller of a well-balanced sailing dingy on the sheltered +waters of the Hamoaze, and the short "stick" of a heavy ship's boat on +the storm-tossed Indian Ocean. +</P> + +<P> +Through the long hours till morning the boat ran before the storm. +Never was day more welcome. At dawn the wind piped down and the sea +moderated. The boat had made a fair amount of water, not only through +the leaking patch, but over the gunwale, and, in order to keep the leak +under, one of the lascars had to keep his hand down on the canvas +stopper while the other plied the baler. This they had to do turn and +turn about throughout the night, and by dawn they were both pretty well +done up. +</P> + +<P> +By nine o'clock, when the sun had gathered considerable strength, the +wind had practically died away, and the sea had resumed a smooth aspect +save for a long, regular swell. Only a few ragged wisps of canvas and +the now almost idle and ridiculously inadequate trysail remained as a +reminder of the night of peril. +</P> + +<P> +In vain Mostyn looked for signs of land. Nothing was in sight save sea +and sky. To make matters worse, the boat, which in that light breeze +would have made about three knots under her mainsail, was now barely +carrying steerage way. At that rate she might take weeks to fetch +land—if she ever did so at all. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast over—it was a more substantial meal than their previous ones +in the boat—Mostyn set the lascars to work to rig up jury canvas. The +damaged mizzen-sail, that had served as a tent, was pressed into +service, together with the tarpaulin. These were "bonnetted" together, +bent to the gaff, and sent aloft as a square sail, with the result that +the boat's speed increased perceptibly. Yet there was still a great +difference between her normal rate and that under the jury canvas. +</P> + +<P> +Smoking a cigarette after the meal, Peter let his thoughts run riot. +He wondered what his parents were doing; whether they had had by this +time any report of the <I>West Barbican</I>. If so, were they mourning him +as dead? +</P> + +<P> +"Rather rough luck on them," soliloquized the youthful optimist; "but +won't they be surprised when I roll up again?" +</P> + +<P> +Then his thoughts went to the Brocklington steel contract. He wondered +whether the Kilba Protectorate officials had sent to Bulonga for the +consignment. It seemed to him rather an idiotic thing to do, to have +the stuff dumped down in that out-of-the-way hole, when the <I>West +Barbican</I> might, with equal facility, have delivered it at Pangawani. +Perhaps, after all, it was for the best. The stuff might have gone +down in the ship, in which case Captain Mostyn would be a ruined man. +</P> + +<P> +The mysterious loss of the <I>West Barbican</I> had been a source of +frequent perplexity to Peter. He was thinking about it now, trying to +put forward a satisfactory theory as to the cause of the explosion. As +far as he was aware there were no explosives on board, a consignment of +gelignite, for use on the Rand, having been landed at Durban. +</P> + +<P> +His reveries were interrupted by one of the lascars shouting: "Sail on +port bow, sahib!" +</P> + +<P> +Peter sat up. The foot of the improvised square sail intercepted the +view for'ard. It was not until he made his way to the bows and stood +upon the mast thwart that he saw the craft which the lascar had +indicated. +</P> + +<P> +She was still a long way off, only her canvas and the upper portions of +her hull showing above the sky line. At that distance it was +impossible, without the aid of a telescope or binoculars (neither of +which was on the boat), to distinguish her rig or in which direction +she was heading. As she was a sailing craft, and, taking for granted +that she carried the same wind as the boat, the chances were that she +would soon disappear from sight. +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless Mostyn meant to leave nothing undone that might attract +the stranger's attention. Rockets were fired in the hope that the loud +detonation might be audible at that distance. The light they gave out +would be unseen in the terrific glare of the sun. +</P> + +<P> +At Preston's suggestion strips of canvas were soaked in lamp oil and +set alight at the end of the boat-hook. These flares gave out a dense +smoke that rose to an immense height in the now still and sultry air. +</P> + +<P> +For the best part of half an hour these signals were repeated at +frequent intervals. Then, to everyone's disappointment, the strange +sail faded from view. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not to be wondered at," remarked Preston. "You know what a +look-out at sea is like; and, in any case, they don't keep a fellow on +watch to see what's coming up astern." +</P> + +<P> +"They ought to," declared Olive. +</P> + +<P> +The Acting Chief was sitting up, his back supported by some spare +oilskins folded over the after thwart. +</P> + +<P> +At the girl's retort he winked solemnly with the eye that was not +covered with bandages. +</P> + +<P> +"Do we?" he asked. "Look astern now." +</P> + +<P> +To the surprise of everyone else in the boat a large sailing craft was +bowling along dead in their wake. She was now a little less than a +mile away, and had evidently been attracted by the signals made to the +craft that had so recently been sighted in vain. +</P> + +<P> +"A rum sort of packet, by Jove!" exclaimed Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"A dhow, my sweet youth," explained Preston. "'Tisn't often you find +'em so far south, but you'll see shoals of them up along the coast from +Mozambique and Zanzibar right up to the Red Sea and Persian Gulf. +Clumsy-looking hookers, but they can shift." +</P> + +<P> +It was Mostyn's first sight of an Arab dhow. He had seen plenty of +Chinese junks in Shanghai whilst he was on the Pacific trade. This +craft reminded him of them, only its rig was more in accord with +Western ideas. End-on it was impossible to see that the masts raked at +different angles, but the well-drawing lateen sails and the "bone in +her teeth" indicated that she was a swift craft ably managed. Even in +the light air she was moving at about six knots. +</P> + +<P> +The Wireless Officer leant forward and whispered in Preston's ear. +</P> + +<P> +"S'pose she's all jonnick, old man?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," replied the Acting Chief. "The slave-dhow and the gun-runner +are as dead as the dodo in these parts. Probably she's a trader from +Reunion, blown out of her course by the late hurricane. Nothing to +worry about, old son." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o!" rejoined Mostyn, and ordered the lascars to lower the sail +and to stand by with the painter. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the dhow, which was coming up "hand over fist", was about +a cable's length astern. From the boat it was impossible to see the +helmsman of the overtaking craft, owing to the foot of the lateen sail, +but in her low bows could be discovered three Arabs intently looking in +the direction of the now motionless little craft. +</P> + +<P> +Presently a high-pitched voice called out an order. The hitherto +listless Arabs for'ard sprang into activity. With a smartness that +would have evoked admiration from the most exacting seaman, the lateen +yards were lowered and squared fore and aft, while the dhow, still +carrying way, ranged alongside the <I>West Barbican's</I> boat. +</P> + +<P> +"Any port in a storm," thought Peter, as the lascar for'ard threw the +painter into the hands of one of the Arab crew. "I wonder what we're +in for now?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Dhow +</H3> + +<P> +Mostyn was the first to board the succouring craft. Somewhat dubious +as to the nature of his reception, he swarmed up the low side and +gained the deck. +</P> + +<P> +His arrival elicited no demonstrations, either of friendliness or +hostility, from the white-robed Arabs. They simply looked at him +without visible signs of curiosity; without even the formal salaam. +</P> + +<P> +There were five of the dhow's crew. Four, who had been attending to +the lowering of the sails, were standing amidships; the fifth, a +mild-looking, bearded man of more than average height, was at the long, +curved tiller. Save for his swarthy skin he might have passed for a +European, for his features were regular, his nose aquiline, and his +lips red and without the fullness of the typical African. He wore the +white "jebbah" and burnous, the only dash of colour being his red +Morocco slippers. In his white sash could be seen the leather-covered +hilt of a long knife. +</P> + +<P> +"English," explained Peter. "Wrecked—want passage." +</P> + +<P> +The Arab shook his head gravely, and motioned to Mostyn to get the rest +of the boat's party on board. +</P> + +<P> +"Mahmed!" sang out his master. +</P> + +<P> +"Sahib?" +</P> + +<P> +"You speak Swahili. Tell this man who we are and what we want." +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed came over the side and approached the Arab captain. Apparently +the former's attempt to speak Swahili was far from fluent, but the +desired result was obtained. +</P> + +<P> +"He for Dar-es-Salaam, Sahib," explained Mahmed "He promise passage one +hundred rupees a head." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll get it," replied Peter. "We'll give him one thousand rupees if +he puts into Pangawani." +</P> + +<P> +The Arab rejected the amendment. He was willing enough to give them a +passage, but he was not going to put into an intermediate port even for +the inducement of an addition three hundred rupees. +</P> + +<P> +Preston was the next to board the dhow. He managed it practically +unaided, for his lower limbs were regaining strength, and he was able +to use his left arm. The Arabs showed considerable interest at his +bandaged head, the captain going to the length of inquiring of Mahmed +how the injuries were caused. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Shallop and Olive followed. +</P> + +<P> +The two lascars completed the transhipment. They brought with them the +scanty personal belongings of the party, together with the water-beaker +and the rest of the provisions. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him we are ready to cast off," said Peter. +</P> + +<P> +Mahmed translated. The Arab skipper went to the side and cast envious +looks at the boat, for from the deck of the dhow the damaged planking +was not visible. With an instinct not confined to dhow-owners he was +loth to abandon a craft that Providence had figuratively thrust into +his hands; but upon consideration he was compelled to admit that the +gift was too unwieldy. Nevertheless, since he was unable to make use +of the boat, he was determined not to give others a chance of so doing. +</P> + +<P> +At his order a couple of Arabs, armed with knives and small-headed +axes, jumped into the boat. After removing the compass, oars, masts, +and remaining sails, and all other loose gear, they cut the gunwale +through to the water-line, regaining their own craft as the water +poured through the jagged rent. The painter was cut as close to the +boat as it was possible for a man to reach from the dhow, and the <I>West +Barbican's</I> boat, her mission accomplished nobly in spite of +difficulties, drifted slowly astern in a water-logged condition. Then, +the lateen sails rehoisted, the dhow resumed her course, hauling close +to the wind on the starboard tack, her head pointing practically +nor'-west-by-north. For the best part of an hour the survivors of the +<I>West Barbican</I> remained on deck, no attempt being made on the part of +the Arabs to offer them accommodation and shelter below. The captain +had handed over the helm to one of the crew, and with the other three +men was squatting on the deck. There was apparently no social +distinction between the Arab skipper and his crew. They were eating +<I>pilau</I> from a common dish, and talking loudly, as if oblivious of the +presence of the "Kafirs" and the three Moslem members of the rescued +party. +</P> + +<P> +At length Peter thought it was time to assert himself on behalf of his +companions. It was scant comfort to have to grill upon the deck of the +dhow, for the sails provided little shelter from the fierce rays of the +sun. +</P> + +<P> +Calling to Mahmed to accompany him, Mostyn made for the short ladder +giving access to the steeply shelving poop. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing Peter's intention the Arab captain stood up and warned the +intruder off, at the same time talking angrily to the Indian +interpreter. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell the accursed Kafir not to set foot upon the ladder," was what he +said, but translated by Mahmed the message was, "The sahib is kindly +asked not to approach while the crew are having a meal." +</P> + +<P> +Which was unfortunate. Out of deference to Arab customs Peter complied +with the request. The captain took it for a sign of weakness on the +Englishman's part. Had Mahmed translated literally, Mostyn would have +been on his guard. It would have been clear that the Arab had not any +intention of setting the party ashore at Dar-es-Salaam or at any other +port where the British flag was flying, otherwise he would never have +dared to insult a man who was quite capable of turning the tables on +him on arrival at a place within the sphere of British influence. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn waited more or less patiently until the <I>pilau</I>-eating party had +broken up. Then he again approached the Arab skipper, who was now +standing at the head of the poop ladder. +</P> + +<P> +The Arab avoided a reply to the direct request for shelter by demanding +immediate payment of the seven hundred rupees. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him," said Peter, "that the money will be paid directly we arrive +at Dar-es-Salaam." +</P> + +<P> +A faint smile fluttered over the Arab's olivine features. +</P> + +<P> +"Has the Kafir the money with him?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That has nothing to do with the bargain," replied Peter, through his +interpreter. "He will be paid promptly and in full when he has carried +out his part of the deal, but for that sum we must have suitable +accommodation." +</P> + +<P> +For a while the Arab looked decidedly sulky. Then, with another smile, +he gave a perfunctory salaam and shouted an order to two of his crew. +</P> + +<P> +The latter promptly disappeared under the poopdeck, where they spent +some time shifting gear from one place to another. +</P> + +<P> +When at length they reappeared, the captain led Mostyn to a fairly +spacious but low-roofed cabin on the port side of the dhow, and +immediately abaft the poop bulkhead. +</P> + +<P> +"That will do for the women," thought Peter. "Now for a place where we +can sling our hammocks." +</P> + +<P> +His request through Mahmed for additional accommodation was curtly +turned down on the score that it was impossible. Already two of the +Arabs had been turned out of their quarters to make room for the Kafirs. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't kick up a shine over that," decided Peter. "Preston and I +can have a shelter on deck. We have a right to make use of our own +sails. I suppose the women will be safe down here? No lock on the +door, but I can show Olive how to jamb it with the blade of an oar. +Now there are the lascars to fix up." +</P> + +<P> +That difficulty was quickly settled, the two lascars agreeing to the +Arab's suggestion that they should take possession of a small cuddy +for'ard, access to which was gained by a small, square hatch just +for'ard of the raking foremast. Mahmed, at his own request, was to +remain with his master and Preston. +</P> + +<P> +Olive and Mrs. Shallop were duly shown the quarters assigned to them. +The latter, for a wonder, raised no objection to the place. Peter +could not help thinking that perhaps her overbearing nature had been +thoroughly cowed by the rebuff she had met with on re-embarking in the +boat. +</P> + +<P> +It was Olive who took exception to the place. +</P> + +<P> +"I think, if you don't mind," she said, "I'll get you to rig me up a +shelter on deck. It's rather stuffy down there for two. You have no +objection, I hope, Mrs. Shallop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not in the least," replied the lady loftily. "It's nothing to do with +me. You can please yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said the girl promptly. +</P> + +<P> +Peter concurred. Although he was curious to know why Olive should have +objection to the cabin—it had been swept out—he refrained from asking +why. He could only come to the conclusion that Olive was reluctant to +be in her late employer's company more than was actually necessary. +</P> + +<P> +"It was stuffy down there," declared the girl. "No scuttle—I'd much +prefer a canvas screen on deck." +</P> + +<P> +The rest of the day passed uneventfully. About four in the afternoon +land was seen broad on the starboard beam. What land it was Peter had +no idea. The Arabs were silent upon the subject. Preston could +advance no suggestion beyond the theory that it might be Cape St. Mary, +on the southernmost extremity of Madagascar. +</P> + +<P> +"If so, old man, we were all out of it," he added. "On the course we +were steering we would have missed the whole island. Strange things +happen at sea." +</P> + +<P> +At sunset the Arab crew turned their faces towards Mecca and prostrated +themselves on the deck. In their acts of devotion they were joined by +the lascars. +</P> + +<P> +"Black heathens!" snorted Mrs. Shallop contemptuously, laughing loudly. +</P> + +<P> +It was the act of an uneducated fool. People of that type, both male +and female, have done so before to-day, often with serious results to +themselves and others. +</P> + +<P> +"For Heaven's sake shut up!" hissed Preston apprehensively. "You may +get a knife across your throat for this." +</P> + +<P> +Peter too felt far from comfortable when the Arabs regained their feet. +There could not have been the slightest doubt that they had heard the +mocking laugh, and had there been trouble the lascars would have held +aloof, or even have sided with their co-religionists. But, grave and +inscrutable, the crew of the dhow carried on as if the unseemly +interruption was beneath their notice. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll keep watch to-night after this," said Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"P'raps 'twould be as well," agreed Preston. "That woman is a perfect +curse—I'm not much use, but I'll take a trick. If there's any sign of +mischief I can give you a shout. Got your automatic handy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather." +</P> + +<P> +"Pity you hadn't shown it, off-handed like," continued the Acting +Chief. "A little moral persuasion of that description goes a long way +with these gentry. I remember once getting into a jolly tight corner +at Port Said. It was my own fault to a great extent, but I was only an +irresponsible 'prentice in those days. I shifted a dozen low-down +Arabs with the stem of a pipe. They thought it was a six-shooter. +It's as likely as not that our friend the skipper has spotted that +bulge in your hip pocket." +</P> + +<P> +"And taken it for a purse with a thousand rupees in it," added Peter. +"Yes, I think I'll have to keep my weather eye lifting." +</P> + +<P> +Preston and the Wireless Officer had rigged up a canvas shelter +amidships, spreading the covering ridge-wise on a gantline stretched +between the mainmast and the for'ard end of the hatch. The hatch was a +large one, measuring roughly thirty feet by ten, and was covered with +canvas held down by bamboo battens. This, with the tent, took up the +greater part of the deck space amidships. +</P> + +<P> +Farther aft, but on the centre line, a tent made from the boat's mizzen +sail had been set up for Olive's use. Provided the weather remained +fairly quiet it formed quite a sheltered and comfortable retreat. +</P> + +<P> +The Arab captain had raised no objections to the execution of this +plan, although it had been carried out without his sanction. Peter and +Mahmed had set up the shelters without any hesitation. The former was, +indeed, prepared to assert his right to do so in consideration of the +fact that he had not pressed his claim for more accommodation under the +poop-deck. +</P> + +<P> +It was late before Mostyn turned in. For quite an hour he had stood on +deck with Olive, watching the moon sinking lower and lower in the +heavens until it dipped beneath the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +Peter gave no hint to the girl of his misgivings, nor did Olive refer +to her reasons for refusing to share the cabin with Mrs. Shallop. +After all, knowing the lady, he was not surprised at the cultured +girl's reluctance to be in her company more than was absolutely +necessary. +</P> + +<P> +At about ten o'clock Peter bade the girl good night. Creeping in under +the flap of his shelter he found Preston fast asleep on one side of the +deck-space and Mahmed, equally somnolent, lying right across the +entrance. He stirred as Peter made his way over him, but instantly +fell asleep again. +</P> + +<P> +"Fortunately I'm not sleepy," thought Mostyn, as he settled himself +upon his share of the rough bedding, which consisted of oilskin coats +and a rafia mat. +</P> + +<P> +On deck all was quiet, save for the occasional creaking of the blocks +and the ripple of water at the dhow's bows. With the exception of the +helmsman the Arab crew had gone below before Peter had retired to his +shelter-tent. The lascars had also retired to their assigned quarters +for'ard. +</P> + +<P> +The night was calm and sultry. At twelve the solitary watch on deck +was relieved; it apparently being the custom on board the dhow for the +helmsmen to work three hour-tricks both by day and night. +</P> + +<P> +Peter heard the two men talking for a few minutes in a low tone; then +the Arab off duty went below, his slippers pattering softly on the deck. +</P> + +<P> +Another hour passed. Nothing of an unusual nature happened. Mostyn +began to wonder whether his precautions had been in vain. He was +feeling a bit sleepy by this time, but he had no desire to arouse his +injured companion. He was content to take Preston's word for the deed, +but if he were to keep awake he simply must have some fresh air. +</P> + +<P> +With this purpose in view Peter crept cautiously across the sleeping +Mahmed, drew aside the flap of the tent, and gained the open air. It +was now a fairly bright starlit night. The cool breeze thrummed +tunefully through the scanty rigging, gently filling the huge, +triangular, lateen sails. The foot of the mainsail was cut so low that +from where Mostyn stood, just abaft of the foremast, the shelving poop +was hidden from view. +</P> + +<P> +Bareheaded and lightly-clad he grasped one of the weather-shrouds and +drunk in great draughts of the ozone-laden air. He realized the relief +of being no longer responsible for the safety of his charges, so far as +seamanship and navigation were concerned. Day after day, night after +night in an open boat had considerably dimmed his ardour for exercising +command. +</P> + +<P> +After a while he wanted a cigarette, but remembered that he had left +his share in the breast-pocket of his drill tunic. +</P> + +<P> +"Better be turning in again," he soliloquized, with visions of malaria +in his mind. "It's rather a risky game hanging about here." +</P> + +<P> +Even as he turned to regain the shelter a shriek rent the air. Less +than ten feet from where he stood were a couple of Arabs kneeling +beside the collapsed tent. One was holding the canvas down with hands +and feet, while the other, knife in hand, was raining furious blows +upon the defenceless and sleeping men pinned beneath. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Fight to a Finish +</H3> + +<P> +A mad fury seized upon the Wireless Officer. Without giving a thought +to the automatic pistol in his hip-pocket he hurled himself upon the +treacherous Arabs. +</P> + +<P> +Strong, agile, and carrying weight, his sudden and unexpected onslaught +took the pair as completely by surprise as their murderous attack had +taken their victims. +</P> + +<P> +With a crashing blow from his left Peter felled the fellow with the +knife, stretching him insensible upon the deck and hurling the +glittering steel into the lee scuppers. +</P> + +<P> +So headlong had been Mostyn's rush that its impetus proved his undoing. +His foot caught in the folds of the canvas. He tripped across the limp +and inert body of one of the occupants of the overturned tent, and with +a dull thud he measured his length upon the deck. +</P> + +<P> +He regained his feet quickly, but not before the second Arab had +recovered from the shock of the unexpected diversion. The next moment +Peter and the Arab were wrestling furiously. +</P> + +<P> +With a mighty heave the Wireless Officer swung his lithe and muscular +antagonist from the deck, but the Arab's fingers were gripping Peter's +throat in a sinuous and tenacious hold. Swaying, turning in short +circles, the two combatants struggled. It was a question of who should +be able to hold out longest—the Englishman with his windpipe almost +closed or the Arab with his ribs strained almost to bursting-point and +his lungs as empty as a deflated tyre. +</P> + +<P> +Once Peter swung the Arab round in the pious hope that he might crash +his opponent's head against the mast, but the fellow, although on the +point of suffocation, contrived to turn aside. Then with a sudden +movement he released his grip on the Englishman's throat, transferring +his attention to Mostyn's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Peter's fairly long hair afforded a secure hold for the Arab's fingers, +while his thumb slithered down Mostyn's forehead preparatory to the +typically Arab trick of gouging out his opponent's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you?" spluttered Peter. +</P> + +<P> +Releasing his hold of his foeman's body, he put a rallying effort into +a terrific uppercut. The blow was well-timed. The Arab was simply +lifted from the deck. His arms outstretched, his fingers still +grasping a generous helping of Peter's hair, he described a perfect +parabola, Arab Number Two thudded unconscious upon the deck by the side +of his previously vanquished compatriot. +</P> + +<P> +Dazed and breathless, Peter strove to recharge his lungs. He was +barely conscious of the blood flowing from the raw patches whence his +hair had been uprooted. It was his throat that pained terribly. He +seemed still to feel the claw-like fingers pressing remorselessly into +his windpipe. Every gasp of air rasped his lacerated tongue, which, in +his imagination at least, had swollen until it threatened to complete +the choking process that his opponent had failed to achieve. +</P> + +<P> +The respite, agonizing though it was, was a short one. A warning +cry—whence it came Peter knew not—put him on the alert. +</P> + +<P> +Approaching with swift, cat-like movements were two more Arabs, one of +whom was the captain of the dhow. The latter had a knife in his hand, +its long blade shimmering in the starlight. The other fellow, although +he wore a knife in his sash, relied upon an iron bar as a weapon of +offence. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time during the encounter Peter remembered his automatic. +The thought gave him confidence for the renewed struggle, but his +fingers, trembling with the muscular reaction, fumbled as he drew the +pistol from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +He was a fraction of a second too late. Before he had time to level +the weapon the Arab with the bar dealt him a terrific, flail-like blow. +Stepping aside and stooping, Peter avoided the swing of the weapon by a +hairbreadth, but the automatic was struck from his grasp and flew half +a dozen yards along the deck. +</P> + +<P> +The Arab, carried half-round by the impetus of the swing of the bar, +finished up by dealing the captain a heavy blow upon the wrist that +caused him to drop the knife. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly Peter saw and seized his opportunity. Grasping the Arab +sailor round the waist he advanced upon the captain, using the former +as a shield and battering-ram. +</P> + +<P> +Retrieving the knife with his left hand, the skipper of the dhow +advanced cautiously, to be confronted at every approach by the +struggling, helpless form of his compatriot. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-272"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-272.jpg" ALT="TWO TO ONE" BORDER="2"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center"> +TWO TO ONE +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It was a strenuous task for Mostyn. Already sorely tried by his +previous and successful combat, he realized that the unequal struggle +could not last much longer. The weighty and frantically kicking Arab +was surely wearing out his last remaining strength, while the +comparatively uninjured captain was awaiting his opportunity of rushing +in and knifing the exhausted Englishman. +</P> + +<P> +Peter had "seen red", now he was beginning to "see white", for a mist +swam in front of his eyes. He felt his knees giving way under him. He +was no longer able to hold his human buckler clear of the deck, and the +Arab's bare heels were beating an erratic tattoo on the planks. +</P> + +<P> +Seizing his chance, the Arab captain sprang. The steel glittered in +the starlight. Peter could see that. He braced himself to receive the +stroke, when a dazzling reddish flash stabbed the air, followed almost +simultaneously by a loud report. +</P> + +<P> +As far as Peter was concerned the fight was finished. He lay +unconscious on the deck, sandwiched between his living buckler and the +body of the treacherous captain of the dhow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Olive deals with the Situation +</H3> + +<P> +A violent slatting of canvas was the first comprehensible sound that +greeted Peter's ears as he began to recover his senses. +</P> + +<P> +He opened his eyes and stared perplexedly at a light. It came from a +familiar object—the boat's lamp. He could not understand why the +sails were shaking, unless for some reason the boat had been allowed to +run up into the wind, which was great carelessness on some one's part, +he reflected. +</P> + +<P> +Yet, somehow, he wasn't in the <I>West Barbican's</I> boat, but on the deck +of something far more spacious. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to sit up. The movement was a failure, resulting in a +throbbing pain in the region of "Adam's apple". Remaining quiet for a +few minutes he racked his bewildered brains to find a solution to the +mystery. +</P> + +<P> +He was lying on his left side, his head supported on a folded coat. +His forehead was bound round with a wet cloth. Why he knew not. It +wasn't his head but his neck that was giving him pain. +</P> + +<P> +And what was the boat's lantern doing there? +</P> + +<P> +Then he became aware of a hand touching him lightly on the forehead. +He recoiled at the touch, and, turning his head, saw Olive kneeling on +the deck beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he exclaimed feebly. "Where am I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Still on the dhow," replied the girl. "You—we—are all right now." +</P> + +<P> +"Are we?" rejoined Peter, still mystified. "Why is she run up into the +wind? Can you give me a drink of water?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn drank with difficulty. The liquid was refreshing to his parched +tongue and lips, although it was a painful task to swallow. Then he +looked at the girl again. +</P> + +<P> +Her face was deathly pale, even in the yellow glare of the lantern. +She was bareheaded, her hair, loosely plaited, falling over her +shoulders. There were dark patches on the hem of her badly worn skirt. +</P> + +<P> +Then in a flash Mostyn remembered everything up to the time when he had +lost consciousness—the treacherous attack upon his sleeping +companions, his double fight against the four Arabs. Where were they +now? +</P> + +<P> +He staggered to his feet, and would have fallen promptly had not Olive +held him up. Carefully she piloted him to the coaming of the hatch. +</P> + +<P> +Although Peter's bodily strength was slow of recovery his brain was +rapidly regaining its normal functions. Seated on the hatch, with the +cool breeze fanning his face, he was able to take stock of his +surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +The dhow was not under control. Her lateen foresail was aback. The +masterless tiller was swaying to and fro as the vessel gathered stern +way. +</P> + +<P> +Close to the mainmast were the disordered folds of the tent, on which +lay the motionless forms of Preston and Mahmed. Reclining against the +short poop-ladder was Mrs. Shallop, her brawny arms bared to the elbow, +and her black hair grotesquely awry. Peter could have sworn that she +was wearing a wig. +</P> + +<P> +Neither the two lascars nor the Arabs were to be seen, but the +disordered, blood-stained deck bore traces of the desperate fight, +while lying close to the fife-rail of the foremast was Mostyn's +automatic. +</P> + +<P> +"Are they dead?" inquired the Wireless Officer, pointing to the bodies +of the Acting Chief and Mahmed. Somehow he could not bring himself to +mention them by name. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Preston's got a knife-thrust in the shoulder," replied Olive. +"Mahmed has half a dozen wounds, but he's still living. We dressed +their injuries as well as we could—Mrs. Shallop and I." +</P> + +<P> +"And where are the lascars?" +</P> + +<P> +"Locked in for'ard," announced the girl. "We thought we would let them +stop there a bit until we sorted things out. The Arabs? Mrs. Shallop +attended to them. I helped a bit. She wanted to throw them overboard. +We lowered them into the after hold—all five." +</P> + +<P> +Peter swallowed another draught of water. He suspected, not without +reason, that he presented a pretty sight in the starlight. His shirt +had been split across both shoulders, his right knee showed through a +long rent in his trousers. His hair was matted with dried blood; his +face was scratched and his neck swollen and purple-coloured. In +addition, he was bespattered with the blood of at least one of his +vanquished antagonists. +</P> + +<P> +"We may as well release the lascars," he said "It's about time we got +the dhow under control." +</P> + +<P> +Together Olive and Peter went for'ard and cut the lashings that secured +the forepeak hatch. It was quite a considerable time before the +lascars summoned up courage to appear, not knowing what had happened, +although they had heard the struggle and guessed what was taking place. +Fortunately they guessed wrongly. They were not in the power of the +ferocious Arabs, and their relief was plain when they realized that +Mostyn Sahib was still in command. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately both men were acquainted with the management of a dhow. +The foresail was filled and the helm put up, and once more the unwieldy +craft was set upon her course. +</P> + +<P> +There was little or nothing to be done for Preston and Mahmed. The +former had recovered consciousness, having sustained a clean cut in the +shoulder. It was Peter's servant who had borne the brunt of the +initial attack, the Arabs, ignorant of his presence in the tent, having +been under the impression that they were knifing his master. +</P> + +<P> +Already Olive and Mrs. Shallop had washed their wounds and bandaged +them with the cleanest linen obtainable, which happened to be the +burnous of the Arab captain. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you must sleep, Peter," said the girl authoritatively, after +Mostyn had done his best for the dhow and her new crew. "You'll be fit +for nothing to-morrow if you don't. No, I won't tell you anything more +now. We'll be quite all right." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn obeyed the mandate. Apart from being utterly fatigued he rather +liked being ordered about by the self-possessed and capable girl. In +default of suitable bedding and covering, for the well-tried sail had +been hacked almost to shreds, he stretched himself on a clear space of +deck and was soon sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +When Peter awoke it was broad daylight. Olive was not to be seen, but +Mrs. Shallop had evidently been asserting herself—this time to good +purpose; for, strange to relate, she was at the helm, while the lascars +were engaged upon the finishing touches of "squaring up" the deck. +</P> + +<P> +All traces of the encounter had been removed, and the planks had been +scrubbed and washed down. Preston and Mahmed had been carried into one +of the cabins under the poop-deck, where already the Arabs' former +quarters had been "swept and garnished". +</P> + +<P> +Seeing Peter stir, Mrs. Shallop threw him a curt greeting, with the +additional advice that if he went aft he would find something to eat. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn took the hint. He was feeling peckish. As he stooped to clear +the break of the poop he heard the woman shouting to the lascars to +"get a move on, as I don't want to hang on here no longer than I can +help"—a contradiction of terms which, however, had the desired effect +upon those for whom it was intended. +</P> + +<P> +In the aft cabin Peter found Olive presiding over a charcoal brazier +and a brass coffee-pot, from which fragrant and almost forgotten odours +were issuing. The dhow's larder had been raided, with the additional +discovery of dates, dried goat's-flesh, bread, and several commodities +of doubtful origin. +</P> + +<P> +Peter enjoyed the meal immensely in spite of his inflamed gullet. +Then, over a cigarette, he heard Olive's account of her part in the +desperate fight. +</P> + +<P> +It appeared that the Arabs failed through a lack of concentration in +their initial attack. Instead of four of them dealing with Peter and +Preston (one of the crew had to be at the helm) two crept towards the +tent in which the Acting Chief and Mahmed were sleeping while a third +secured the hatch over the lascars, and the fourth directed his +attention upon the cabin in which Mrs. Shallop had taken up her abode. +</P> + +<P> +Awakened by the uproar, Olive slipped out of her shelter, and hid in +the angle made by the rise of the poop and the adjoining bulwark. The +place was not only in shadow; it was hidden from the view of the Arab +at the helm. +</P> + +<P> +Horror-stricken, the girl watched the drama until she saw that Peter +had thrown himself upon the would-be assassins. Up to that moment she +had thought that he was struggling under the folds of the overthrown +tent. +</P> + +<P> +Then horror gave place to a strange fascination as she followed +Mostyn's plucky and desperate struggle against the two Arabs. She +wanted to go to his aid, but her limbs refused the dictates of her +brain, apart from the fact that she was without a weapon of any +description. +</P> + +<P> +As in a hideous dream she saw the Wireless Officer struggle until he +had overcome his antagonists, only to be attacked by the captain of the +dhow and the Arab who had returned from his task of securing the +lascars. +</P> + +<P> +The period of trance-like inaction passed. Olive stole stealthily +towards the three combatants with the desperate intention of throwing +herself upon the captain, as he manoeuvred for an opening. She saw the +iron bar descend and Peter's automatic slither along the deck. The +Arabs, too intent upon settling with the Englishman, paid no attention +to the little weapon. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly the girl grasped the automatic. Even in her haste she +remembered to release the safety-catch and to see that there was a +cartridge in the breech. +</P> + +<P> +Levelling the pistol she pressed the trigger. The Arab captain threw +up his arms and staggered upon the almost exhausted Peter, bearing him +to the deck together with the fellow whom he had used as a human shield. +</P> + +<P> +Still at a loss as to the outcome of the fight, Olive waited, finger on +trigger, watching the writhing forms almost at her feet. Presently the +Arab sailor extricated himself and fumbled for the knife in his sash. +</P> + +<P> +Again the pistol cracked, and the fellow collapsed in a limp heap +across the body of the captain of the dhow. +</P> + +<P> +Checking her almost irresistible inclination to ascertain whether Peter +was dead or alive, the girl made her way aft, remembering that there +were five Arabs and that only four had been accounted for. +</P> + +<P> +A loud, very masculine-like voice, uttering a string of curses that +would have done credit to a Thames bargee, greeted Olive's ears. As +she stooped to clear the low poop she was just in time to see Mrs. +Shallop deliver a clean and beautifully timed punch on the point of the +Arab's jaw. The luckless fellow, lifted completely off his feet, +crashed heavily against the bulkhead and slithered limply upon the deck. +</P> + +<P> +This much Olive saw by the aid of a horn lantern hanging from the +deck-beam. Then, as Mrs. Shallop turned, the girl was also aware that +there was a knife sticking into the woman's left shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Olive offered her assistance. Mrs. Shallop, seemingly aware of the +knife for the first time, waved her back. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing to make a song about," she protested in a gruff voice. "When +I want your help I'll ask for it—not before." +</P> + +<P> +And with this ungracious refusal Mrs. Shallop went back into her cabin +and shut the door; leaving Olive, feeling considerably bewildered now +that the reaction was setting in, standing close to the unconscious +Arab. +</P> + +<P> +It was some moments before she pulled herself together sufficiently to +go on deck. By this time the dhow had run up into the wind and was +gathering sternway with her lateen foresail aback. Olive hardly heeded +the fact. Her first care was to ascertain whether any of the three +were still living. +</P> + +<P> +Peter looked a ghastly sight, a generous portion of his hair torn out +by the roots and blood trickling down his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +A hasty examination showed that he was still alive and apparently +without serious injury. Olive washed the stains from his face and +rested his head on an improvised pillow. Then she went to the +assistance of Preston and Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +With difficulty she removed the collapsed tent, for in the mêlée the +Acting Chief had rolled over upon the folds of the canvas. He too +looked a pretty object, for the old wounds on his head had reopened, +while in addition he had been stabbed. Olive deftly dressed the +injuries and turned to Mahmed. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know what to make of the Indian boy. He was so chipped +about that she was unaware whether he was alive or dead. +</P> + +<P> +Olive was still engaged in doing her best to patch Mahmed up when Mrs. +Shallop appeared upon the scene. Somehow she had contrived to put a +dressing over her wound, although it must have been a difficult task to +tie the knot that held the bandage in position. +</P> + +<P> +"Bit of a mess, ain't it?" she remarked. "We'd best clean up a bit. +How about heaving those blacks overboard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are they all dead?" asked the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it," was the unconcerned reply. "But they soon will be, +so overboard with them." +</P> + +<P> +"No," declared Olive firmly. "It's not right—it's murder." +</P> + +<P> +"It would have been murder for us if they hadn't knuckled under," +rejoined Mrs. Shallop. "When they come to their senses there'll be +more trouble, you mark my words." +</P> + +<P> +Olive glanced in the direction of the Arab captain. Already he was +showing signs of returning consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that hatch under the poop, close to your cabin?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How on earth should I know?" retorted Mrs. Shallop. "It's no odds to +me what it is." +</P> + +<P> +The girl went aft, lifted the hatch, and lowered the lantern into the +cavernous depths. The place was an after-hold, its for'ard end +terminating in a strong transverse bulkhead, while the curved timbers +and raking sternpost comprised the remaining walls. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll lower the Arabs down that hatch," declared Olive firmly, when +she rejoined her companion. "They'll be safe enough in there." +</P> + +<P> +"No; overboard with them," persisted Mrs. Shallop. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be tried for murder on the high seas if you do," continued +Olive. +</P> + +<P> +The threat caused the woman's blood-thirsty schemes to evaporate. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, then," she conceded grudgingly. +</P> + +<P> +With very little assistance Mrs. Shallop dragged the unresisting forms +of the five Arabs aft, after searching them in a very methodical +fashion for concealed arms. This done, she passed a rope round each +Arab in turn and lowered him into the hold; while at Olive's suggestion +a stone jar filled with water was placed in their prison. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess they'll be scared stiff when they come to," was Mrs. Shallop's +grim comment, as she closed and secured the hatch. "Where's any food? +That job's made me feel quite peckish." +</P> + +<P> +She disappeared into her cabin, while Olive, left to her own resources, +began her watch and ward by the side of the still unconscious Wireless +Officer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The End of the Voyage +</H3> + +<P> +Three days later the dhow was bowling along up the Mozambique Channel +with the Madagascar coast showing broad on the starboard beam. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was once more in charge of things. He had made a quick recovery +from his hurts, although he still experienced a difficulty in +swallowing. +</P> + +<P> +Preston too was making favourable progress. His latest wound was a +clean cut. Up to the present there had been no complications, and his +amateur nurses had good reason to think that none would be forthcoming. +</P> + +<P> +With Mahmed things were different. Twenty-four hours elapsed before he +regained consciousness. He was suffering from at least half a dozen +deep knife wounds and several others of a lesser degree of danger. In +addition to a serious loss of blood, he was in a high fever. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was greatly concerned over the dangerous state of his trusty +servant. He had thought of putting into the nearest port in Madagascar +and landing Mahmed for medical treatment, but the boy besought Mostyn +Sahib so fervently that he should not be left that Peter decided to +carry on. +</P> + +<P> +There was no longer any doubt about the dhow's position. On board, +Mostyn had discovered, amongst other articles of navigation, a +British-made sextant, and, as soon as the Acting Chief recovered +sufficiently Preston had fixed the latitude. The absence of a +chronometer mattered little, since the Madagascar coast was visible to +starboard. +</P> + +<P> +By the aid of Arab charts it was found that the dhow was now within six +hundred miles of Pangawani, the nearest port in the Kilba Protectorate, +and, indeed, the nearest territory under British rule. Provided the +wind held, the dhow ought to reel off those six hundred miles in from +five to six days. +</P> + +<P> +Everything considered, Peter congratulated himself. In a stout, +weatherly craft, although on very unconventional lines according to +British standards, there was little cause for anxiety on the score of +danger. There were ample provisions of sorts, and sufficient fresh +water to enable the dhow to carry on without being under the necessity +of putting into any port to revictual. +</P> + +<P> +The Arab prisoners gave little trouble. Given food and water and +medical stores of their own providing, they accepted the changed +conditions with typical Moslem fatalism. Twice a day they were allowed +on deck singly, ostentatiously covered by Mostyn with his automatic; +and, without the slightest show of opposition, they returned to their +place of captivity in the hold directly they were so ordered. +</P> + +<P> +Amongst other articles discovered in the Arab captain's cabin was a +leather bag, containing gold and silver coins of an approximate value +of £120. This Peter placed in a large trunk, which, in default of lock +and key, was secured by driving in several long nails. He told no one +of his find, but resolved to hand over the money to the port +authorities as soon as the dhow arrived at Pangawani. +</P> + +<P> +After distinguishing herself by knocking out her Arab assailant and +making herself useful until Peter was able to resume control, Mrs. +Shallop had drifted back into her old style. For hours at a stretch +she remained in the cabin assigned to her. When she did appear she +indulged in outbursts of complaints against everything in general. +</P> + +<P> +Peter now suffered her in silence. He could afford to do so, knowing +that within the next few days he would be relieved both of her company +and his responsibility. +</P> + +<P> +On the fifth day following the acquisition of the dhow, the Comoro +Islands were sighted on the starboard bow. There were now plenty of +craft to be seen, from tramp steamers to dhows. Mostyn let them pass +without attempting to communicate. A sort of spirit of independence +possessed him. Having gone thus far without outside assistance he was +determined to see the business through. Had urgent necessity arisen he +would have stopped a large vessel and requested medical attention, but +Mahmed was making good progress, and was so emphatic in his desire to +remain with his master, that any thwarting of his wishes in that +direction would have more than counterbalanced any good that a doctor +might have done. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until the morning of the eighth day that land was sighted on +the port bow. Once again, after days of adventure, Mostyn was gazing +upon the African mainland. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to be jolly careful how you approach Pangawani Harbour, +old son," cautioned Preston for the twentieth time. "For goodness sake +don't put the old hooker on the bar and kipper the show." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't intend to," replied the cautious Peter. "The Arab chart isn't +much good. It's on too small a scale. I'll bring up and signal for a +pilot, unless there's another vessel making the port. If so, I'll +follow her in." +</P> + +<P> +As ill luck would have it the wind dropped about midday, and Mostyn had +the mortification of seeing the entrance to Pangawani Harbour at less +than five miles away, without being able to gain a hundred yards +through the water. At times the dhow was appreciably drifting away +from the desired haven. Until close on sunset she was becalmed. Then +a stiff off-shore breeze sprang up. +</P> + +<P> +There was no help for it. Throughout the night the dhow was under way +close hauled, passing and repassing the entrance without being able to +cross the bar. Even after the wind had freed her, Peter would not have +risked the intricate entrance in the darkness. So, with the roar of +the surf borne to his ears, Peter kept watch during the darkness, until +dawn revealed the fact that the dhow was immediately abreast of and +less than a mile from the actual fairway. +</P> + +<P> +Yet the harbour was denied him. The sea breeze gave place to another +calm, and it was not until the sun was high in the heavens that the +customary onshore wind began to make itself felt. +</P> + +<P> +There were other craft making the harbour. Several dhows were in +sight, their crews, tired of waiting for the breeze, laboriously +sweeping the ponderous craft. Farther away was a gunboat, her +white-painted sides looking strangely unfamiliar to people accustomed +to the "battleship grey" of warships in home waters. +</P> + +<P> +"She's down from Zanzibar," declared Preston. "She's got a soft job +nowadays, but those fellows had a sticky time when I was on the coast. +No, I don't think she's coming in here, otherwise we might have had a +tow in." +</P> + +<P> +The dhow was now gathering way under the fair breeze. A cable's length +astern was another dhow, the crew of which had just relinquished their +sweeps and were preparing to hoist sail. Mostyn noticed that the +white-robed skipper was intently watching him, and that the curiosity +was shared by the rest of the Arab crew. +</P> + +<P> +"P'raps he recognizes the old hooker," he remarked to Olive, who was +standing with him on the poop. "He'll be puzzling his brains to know +what we're doing on board." +</P> + +<P> +Even as he spoke a distinct splash astern attracted his attention. +Stepping aft he was just in time to see a brown figure diving into the +water in the wake of another who was swimming a good ten feet beneath +the surface. +</P> + +<P> +Then there was another splash and the performance was repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" exclaimed Mostyn. "We've been done. Our prisoners are +escaping." +</P> + +<P> +"Have escaped," corrected Olive as five heads, appeared above the +surface. +</P> + +<P> +One of the Arabs was swimming strongly, at the same time shouting to +his compatriots on the nearest dhow. Two others were making slower +progress for the reason that each was encumbered by supporting a +disabled man. +</P> + +<P> +Without let or hindrance the escaped prisoners gained the dhow astern +and were hauled upon deck. Then, putting her helm down, the succouring +craft went about and headed for the open sea. +</P> + +<P> +"They've done us in the eye," declared Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm rather glad," said Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"So am I in a way," agreed Mostyn. "Saved us a lot of trouble, handing +'em over, attending their trial, and all that sort of thing. But it's +a bit of a mystery how they managed to break out of the ship." +</P> + +<P> +Leaving the lascar at the helm, Peter went below and examined the hatch +of the after-hold. It was intact and secured. Raising it he peered +below. The mystery was a mystery no longer. Unknown to him there were +two square ports right aft and just above the waterline, which, when in +harbour, were used to facilitate stowage of cargo. Seizing their +opportunity, the prisoners had kept observation until they saw a +friendly dhow within easy distance, and had made their escape through +one of the ports. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm also very glad," continued Peter, "that there's a gunboat +within sight, otherwise we might have had to try conclusions with a +dozen armed Arabs." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the second lascar. +</P> + +<P> +"Hoist the pilot flag," he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +The pilot flag—S International—was quickly forthcoming. In the +absence of a set of signal flags on board, Olive, under Peter's +direction, had made the required flag out of some white linen and a +square of blue cloth from the Arab skipper's wardrobe. +</P> + +<P> +The signal was answered with far greater dispatch than at Bulonga, and +within half an hour the Pangawani pilot boat was alongside. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" was the greeting of the dapper clean-shaven official, as he +came over the side and regarded with undisguised astonishment the +bedraggled and somewhat battered crew of the dhow. "Hello! You look +as if you've been in the wars. Where are you from?" +</P> + +<P> +Before Mostyn could reply Preston broke in: +</P> + +<P> +"Davis, old son!" he exclaimed. "Cut the cackle and get us in. I'm +dying for a whisky and soda." +</P> + +<P> +"Great Scott!" ejaculated the pilot in astonishment. "Preston, by the +powers! We heard that you were lost in the <I>West Barbican</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"All you hear isn't gospel, my bright youth," rejoined the Acting Chief +sententiously, as he took a cigarette from the case offered by the port +official. "Hardly expected to see you here, if it comes to that." +</P> + +<P> +"They transferred me from Zanzibar in November last," exclaimed Davis. +"It's a move up. Here I'm practically my own boss." +</P> + +<P> +He walked towards the tiller, turned on his heel, and glanced +shorewards. +</P> + +<P> +"You can tell your fellows to stow sail," he continued. "We'll tow you +in." +</P> + +<P> +"By the by," inquired Peter. "What is the date? We seem to have lost +count." +</P> + +<P> +"The eleventh of January," was the reply. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap36"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Round of Surprises +</H3> + +<P> +During the rest of the day the picking up of dropped threads was a +continual source of astonishment to Peter Mostyn, although it was not +the first time that he had been cut off from the outside world. +</P> + +<P> +The dhow was berthed alongside the newly constructed wharf, fronting +the modest building which housed the customs and port officials of +Pangawani. The two lascars were sent to a native merchant seamen's +compound, until they could be shipped back to Bombay in accordance with +the terms of their engagement. Mahmed, greatly against his wish, was +transferred to a native hospital, on the promise given by Mostyn Sahib +that he would be allowed to accompany his master as soon as he was able +to do so. Mrs. Shallop, declining offers of hospitality from the wife +of a Customs officer, betook herself to a small hotel close to the +railway station from which the line, broken only at the as yet +unspanned Kilembonga Gorge, starts on its eight-hundred-mile run to the +provisional capital of the Kilba Protectorate. +</P> + +<P> +Olive Baird, on the other hand, gratefully accepted Davis's offer to +stay with his wife until an opportunity occurred for her to take +passage home—the opportunity being determined by Peter's ability to +accompany her, and thus carry out his promise. +</P> + +<P> +Dick Preston sturdily declined to go into hospital. Already he had +arranged to share rooms with Peter at the Pangawani branch of the +Imperial Mercantile Marine Club of which both officers were members. +</P> + +<P> +Before Peter relinquished his command, certain formalities had to be +gone through, amongst which was the examination of the vessel by the +port officials. +</P> + +<P> +The dhow's cargo was small and comparatively worthless. There were no +papers to prove her identity or of where she came. +</P> + +<P> +"What's in that chest, Mr. Mostyn?" inquired the official, pointing to +the box containing the money, the lid of which Peter had nailed up. +"Coin, eh? All right, we won't open it yet. I'll wait till we get it +ashore, but I'll put a seal on it for our mutual safeguard.'" +</P> + +<P> +In fact he affixed three seals bearing the impression of the arms of +the Protectorate of Kilba. +</P> + +<P> +"One more thing," continued the port official. "You'll have to make a +declaration before the Head Commissioner. I'll come along with you. +We may catch him before dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"Not in these trousers," objected Mostyn, indicating his disreputable +garments. "And I must go to the post office." +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o," agreed the official cheerfully. "Nothing like killing three +birds with one stone. You and I are about the same build. Let me fit +you up. Comyn is my tally." +</P> + +<P> +In a very short time obvious deficiencies in Peter's wardrobe were made +good. Then, accompanied by his newly found friend and benefactor, he +called in at the post office and dispatched a cablegram to his parents. +</P> + +<P> +The message was characteristic of Mostyn. He did not believe in paying +for two words when one would do, especially at the rates charged by the +cable company. It was simply: "O.K. Peter". +</P> + +<P> +Having discharged this act of filial duty, Mostyn suffered himself to +be led into the presence of the Head Commissioner of the Kilba +Protectorate, who happened to be on official duty at Pangawani. +</P> + +<P> +With the Commissioner was the Director of Contracts. Both were under +thirty-five years of age—Britons of the forceful and energetic type to +which colonial development owes so much. +</P> + +<P> +They were sitting at a large teak table littered with papers and +documents. The Director of Contracts was reading a typed cablegram. +</P> + +<P> +"Infernal cheek, Carr," he exclaimed to his colleague. "We've no use +for cheap German stuff in the Protectorate. We'll turn it down." +</P> + +<P> +The subject of his righteous wrath was a tender from the Pfieldorf +Company offering to supply steelwork "exactly according to the plans +and specifications of a contract that has unfortunately failed to be +executed", delivering the material at Pangawani within thirty-six days +of receipt of telegraphic order, for the sum of £55,000. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" ejaculated the Commissioner. "Tick the blighters off while you +are about it. I'd rather see the Kilembonga Gorge unbridged till the +crack of doom than have the place disfigured—yes, dishonoured, if you +like—by a Hun-made structure. It was a bad stroke of luck when the +Brocklington people's stuff went to the bottom of the sea." +</P> + +<P> +The walls and doors of the official buildings were far from soundproof. +Peter, standing with Comyn outside the door, heard the words +distinctly. To him they conveyed only one explanation: that in +transport from Bulonga to Pangawani the vessel chartered for the +conveyance of the steelwork had met with disaster. +</P> + +<P> +Comyn tapped at the door and was bidden to enter. +</P> + +<P> +"I've brought Mr. Mostyn to report to you, sir," he explained. "Mr. +Mostyn was in charge of the dhow that landed seven survivors of the +<I>West Barbican</I> this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"We've just been talking of the <I>West Barbican</I>, Mr. Mostyn," said the +Commissioner. "We were saying how unfortunate it was that an important +consignment for us was lost in the ship. By the by, are you any +relation of Captain Mostyn, one of the managing directors of the +Brocklington Ironworks Company?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's my father, sir," replied Peter. "I'm afraid, though, that I fail +to understand your reference to the loss of the steelwork." +</P> + +<P> +"Hang it, man," interposed the Director of Contracts, "surely you ought +to know. You were on the ship when she went down." +</P> + +<P> +"And I know it," agreed Peter grimly. "That she went down, I mean. As +for the steelwork, that was landed at Bulonga a day or so before the +disaster occurred." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" demanded the Commissioner and Director of Contracts in one +breath. +</P> + +<P> +Peter repeated his assertion. +</P> + +<P> +"Glorious news!" exclaimed the Commissioner. "Bless my soul, what +possessed them to dump the stuff in a miserable backwater in Portuguese +territory?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's for you to say, sir," replied Mostyn. "I took in the wireless +message when we were a few hours out from Durban. It came from the +Company's agent, and obviously must have emanated from here." +</P> + +<P> +"Obviously fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Director of Contracts. "If +it had I would have been responsible for it. Fire away, let's have the +whole yarn." +</P> + +<P> +For the best part of an hour Mostyn kept his listeners deeply +engrossed. The Commissioner completely forgot that there was a meal +waiting for him. Here was an enthralling narrative with an unsolved +mystery attached. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you any available funds, Mr. Mostyn," he demanded bluntly, when +Peter had brought his story to a close. +</P> + +<P> +"Precious little, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Then let me make an offer. If you accept you will be rendering a +public service and doing your father's firm a thundering good turn. +You are in no immediate hurry, I take it, to be sent home?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter thought not. +</P> + +<P> +"Good," continued the Commissioner. "In that case you can act as +representative to the Brocklington Ironworks Company, and deliver the +goods before the contract date. You've a good sixteen days clear. +I'll give you a credit note for a thousand pounds, and you can make +your arrangements for chartering a vessel to bring the consignment +round from Bulonga. As a matter of fact there's the <I>Quilboma</I> lying +in harbour at the present time, waiting for cargo. She'd do admirably, +and you can get quite reasonable terms. Once the jolly old stuff is +planked down on the wharf here your father's firm has carried out its +obligation, you know." +</P> + +<P> +It did not take long for Peter to accept the offer. He metaphorically +jumped at it. +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o," said the Commissioner, as he dismissed his newly accredited +agent of the Brocklington Ironworks Company. "Get a move on. Over you +go and the best of luck." +</P> + +<P> +Still feeling considerably mystified, Mostyn left the building. +Outside he parted with Comyn, the latter impressing on him that he +would be only too pleased to be of assistance to him in any matter and +at any time during his stay at Pangawani. +</P> + +<P> +Peter went to the post office a second time. Again he cabled to his +father, but with a reckless disregard of the money he was putting into +the cable company's exchequer. He did not even wait to put the message +into code, but stated that the consignment of steel-work had not been +lost in the <I>West Barbican</I>, but had been landed at Bulonga. He +proposed chartering a tramp and bringing the consignment to Pangawani. +</P> + +<P> +"That'll buck the governor up, I reckon," he soliloquized, as he handed +in the cablegram. +</P> + +<P> +His next move was to interview the master of the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I>, who, +as luck would have it, was also part owner, and being badly in want of +a cargo agreed to undertake the run to Bulonga and back at a very +reasonable figure. +</P> + +<P> +"When can you get under way?" inquired Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Tide time to-morrow night," was the reply. "Say about six o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +Peter's peregrinations that day were by no means finished. After being +held up and interviewed by the local representative of the <I>Kilba +Protectorate Gazette</I>, who was also a correspondent to one of the +principal London dailies, he found out Olive and told her of his latest +plans. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't take much more than a week—perhaps less," he explained. "I +don't think that in any case you will be able to find a homeward-bound +vessel by that time." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't trouble to do so," declared the girl. "Mr. Davis and his wife +are no end of good sorts." +</P> + +<P> +Preston received the news of Peter's venture with considerable envy. +</P> + +<P> +"Wish I were fit enough," he remarked; "I'd come along and help you +through with it. Keep your eyes open, old man, and see if you can find +out anything about the <I>West Barbican</I>. It seems to me that somebody +in Bulonga might be able to throw out a good hint as to the cause of +the explosion. I may be wrong, but those are my sentiments. When do +you sail?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter told him. +</P> + +<P> +"That's unfortunate, my lad," rejoined the Acting Chief. "These people +here are giving us a lush-up to-morrow evening. Couldn't wait, I +suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Tide time," he replied briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Any time between six and nine," added Preston. "Ask the Old Man—he's +not your boss, you're employing him—to put it off say till a quarter +to nine. Then you'll be able to have most of the fun; Miss Baird and +Mrs. Shallop will be there, of course, although I guess neither of us +is particularly keen on the old woman's presence." +</P> + +<P> +"She turned up trumps when she tackled the Arab," Peter reminded him. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, get on with it," interposed Preston good-humouredly. "It +will be an ordeal for me, watching you fellows enjoying yourselves, an' +the doctor's shoved me on to a light diet. He didn't want to let me +go, but I'll be there, even if it snows ink." +</P> + +<P> +So back to the harbour Mostyn went to interview the skipper of the +<I>Quilboma</I> once more. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tain't for me to raise objections," declared the captain, "but it's +cutting it mighty fine. Fallin' tide's at nine, d'ye see?" +</P> + +<P> +He tilted back his topee and scratched his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you what," he continued. "I'll take her over the bar at seven +o'clock and drop killick outside, if 'tis as calm as it is to-day. Mr. +Davis's launch can put you off, and then we'll get under way directly +you come aboard. Make it four bells, if you like. There won't be much +time lost, seeing as I haven't to smell my way out on a falling tide." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man's assertion that there would be but little time lost +finally dispelled Peter's misgivings. He would have foregone the +doubtful pleasure of the lush-up ashore rather than have risked the +chance of still further delaying the delivery of the Brocklington +Ironworks Company's contract; but now, with these reassurances, Mostyn +felt that he could accept the hospitality of the new-found friends +without any pinpricks of conscience. +</P> + +<P> +Punctually at the time stated Peter presented himself at the club. +Already the Head Commissioner and the port officials were there to +welcome their guests. +</P> + +<P> +A little later a rickshaw trundled up to the entrance, and Preston put +in an appearance, assisted by a couple of the club servants. +</P> + +<P> +Then, in Peter's eyes at least, a radiant vision arrived, as Olive +Baird, simply yet daintily dressed in one of Mrs. Davis's evening +frocks, and escorted by her host and hostess, was ushered into the +ante-room. +</P> + +<P> +Her introduction to the Head Commissioner took a very considerable +time—at least Peter thought so—while others of the Pangawani +community flocked up to the girl like flies round a honey-pot. +</P> + +<P> +At length the Head Commissioner suggested that it was time to adjourn +to the dining-room. +</P> + +<P> +"We're all here, I take it?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Shallop hasn't arrived yet," replied one of his colleagues, who, +although deputed beforehand to take the lady into dinner, was in total +ignorance of what she was like or of her rather outstanding mannerisms. +"We sent a rickshaw to her hotel an hour ago, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Before the Commissioner could make any remark upon the lady's absence a +native servant approached, salaamed, and offered a silver plate upon +which was a pencilled note. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me a moment," said the Commissioner to his guests. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled aside the bamboo chik that separated the ante-room from the +foyer. As he strode out Peter noticed that there was a tall man in a +drill uniform standing in front of a couple of native policemen. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn was not in the least curious. He was aware that the leisure +time of a highly-placed official is hardly ever free from interruptions +upon matters of state. But he was considerably surprised when a couple +of minutes later the Head Commissioner pulled aside the curtain and +said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mostyn, may I speak to you for a few moments?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter went out. The uniformed officer and the two policemen were +standing stiffly at attention. +</P> + +<P> +The Commissioner without any preamble plunged into facts. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Inspector Williams of the Kilba Protectorate Police Force," he +announced. "He holds a warrant for the arrest of Mrs. Shallop, or, to +give her—or, rather, him—his correct name, Benjamin Skeets. He is +very badly wanted at home for extensive frauds on the United Trusts +Banking Company. His partner in crime, Joseph Shales, whom probably +you know under the name of Mr. Shallop, is already in the hands of the +Union of South Africa Police. I suppose this is news to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is, sir," replied the astonished Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"You had no suspicion of the true sex of Mrs. Shallop?" +</P> + +<P> +"None whatever." +</P> + +<P> +"Had he any money when he came ashore?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not to my knowledge, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the fact remains," rejoined the Head Commissioner drily, "that +Mr. Benjamin Skeets has given us the slip; although, we hope, we may +possibly lay hands on him before long. He can't get very far away. +All right, Williams, carry on. Keep me informed directly you hear +anything of a definite nature. Come along, Mostyn; we'll rejoin the +others. Not a word about this till after dinner." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap37"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +How the Steelwork Arrived +</H3> + +<P> +There was no doubt about it: Mr. Benjamin Skeets was a very crafty +fellow. By adopting the disguise of a woman, and acting up to the part +of a vulgar parvenue, he had completely covered his tracks, and had +thrown dust into the eyes of everyone with whom he had come in +contact—up to a certain point and then only with one exception. +</P> + +<P> +Messrs. Skeets and Shale were no mere novices in crime, and their +daring <I>coup</I> of defrauding the United Trusts Banking Company of the +round sum of £30,000, and their subsequent disappearance, had both +mystified and astonished the British public by its audacity, and had +completely baffled the greatest detective experts of Scotland Yard. +</P> + +<P> +Skeets had lived up to his disguise very thoroughly. Even the +subsequent engagement of Miss Olive Baird had been undertaken solely +with the idea of elaborating the smaller but by no means unnecessary +details of his disguise. Since there was no reliable description of +Mr. Joseph Shales, who was the unseen partner in the deal with the +banking firm, it was a fairly simple matter for him to get out of the +country under the guise of the husband of "Mrs. Shallop". +</P> + +<P> +It had been the intention of the precious pair to leave the <I>West +Barbican</I> at Cape Town; hence Mrs. Shallop's anxiety to get a wireless +message through as soon as the ship came within radio range of Table +Bay. But the absence of a reply from Skeets's confederate at Cape Town +had so startled the fugitives that they decided to go on until they +found a convenient port, preferably in India, where they could lie low +and live on their ill-gotten plunder. +</P> + +<P> +The foundering of the <I>West Barbican</I> had upset their calculations. +Practically the whole of the pair's booty went down with the ship. Mr. +Shallop, otherwise Shales, having no further use for his destitute +partner, went off in one of the ship's boats which was eventually +picked up. Arriving at Cape Town he took the ill-advised step of +looking-up a pal. The latter was already languishing in a South +African penal establishment, and Mr. Shales, upon making inquiries, was +enlightened by an acquaintance of the convict, who chanced to be an +astute detective. +</P> + +<P> +The outcome of this meeting was that Mr. Shallop, under the mellow +influence of strong waters, said more than he would have done had he +been in his sober senses. Recovering from his maudlin state he found +himself in custody. +</P> + +<P> +Having no belief in the worn proverb concerning honour amongst thieves, +and perhaps fully convinced that his partner in crime had been lost in +the disaster to the <I>West Barbican</I>, Joseph Shales confessed to a minor +part in the United Trusts Bank frauds, at the same time laying the +blame upon the missing Benjamin Skeets. +</P> + +<P> +The immediate result was that directly the news was cabled that more +survivors from the <I>West Barbican</I>, including Mrs. Shallop, had been +landed at Pangawani, the Kilba Protectorate Police were instructed to +arrest the much-wanted Benjamin. +</P> + +<P> +Before Mostyn left to go on board the <I>Quilboma</I> he had an opportunity +of saying farewell to Olive, and at the same time telling her of the +astounding news. +</P> + +<P> +"And to think that she—or, rather, he—bluffed the whole jolly lot of +us," he added. "Even the Old Man and Doctor Selwyn were taken in +completely." +</P> + +<P> +"Not all of us, Peter," rejoined the girl softly. "I knew—but not at +first." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" ejaculated the astonished Mostyn. "You did? When did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not until the <I>West Barbican</I> was sinking," replied Olive. "I found +it out then: I couldn't help it. Of course, I didn't know exactly what +to do, and I knew nothing whatever of the crime she—I mean, he—had +committed. But I meant to tell you some day, Peter." +</P> + +<P> +"We are well rid of him," remarked Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," agreed the girl thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, she added +frankly. "But if it had not been for Mrs. Shallop I might never have +met you, Peter." +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn departed radiantly upon the voyage on which depended the fate of +the Brocklington Ironworks Company's contract. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until the day following that Davis, in his official +capacity, completed the inspection of the dhow. When he came to knock +off the lid of the box in which Mostyn had nailed up the gold and +silver coins, he found that, although the seals were intact, the money +had vanished. +</P> + +<P> +Davis gave a low whistle. +</P> + +<P> +"That stuff's been lifted before the dhow put into Pangawani," he +declared to his assistant. "The seals being intact proves that." +</P> + +<P> +His companion laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"After sneaking £30,000 friend Skeets wouldn't scruple to lift that +little lot," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"S'pose so," conceded Davis. "We'll go and report the loss; but I'm +afraid that Mrs. Shallop has got well away with it this time." +</P> + +<P> +Which was exactly what had happened. As far as the authorities at +Pangawani were concerned Benjamin Skeets had vanished, seemingly into +thin air. Although the daily train from Pangawani up-country had been +rigorously searched at every intermediate station, soon after the +flight of the much wanted man was made known, no one unable to give a +good account of himself or herself had been discovered. With the +exception of the <I>Quilboma</I> no vessel had left the port during the +previous twenty-four hours. Native police and trackers had scoured the +bush for miles in the vicinity of Pangawani without picking up any +traces of the fugitive. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Peter Mostyn was speeding south on board the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I>. +From the moment the harbour launch had placed him on the deck of the +tramp outside Pangawani bar, he was entirely cut off from news of the +rest of the world. The <I>Quilboma</I> was not fitted with wireless, her +owners, since the relaxation of Board of Trade regulations on the +termination of the war, having dispensed with what they considered to +be an unprofitable, expensive, and unnecessary outfit. +</P> + +<P> +The tramp was only of 1500 tons gross register, and with a speed of +nine knots. Her engines were of an antiquated, reciprocating type, +while her coal consumption was out of all proportion to her carrying +capacity. Had she been plying in home waters she would never have +passed the official re-survey; consequently her owners, one of whom was +her skipper, took good care to confine the <I>Quilboma's</I> activities to +the Red Sea and Indian Ocean. +</P> + +<P> +In fine weather, and aided by the current constantly setting southward +through the Mozambique Channel, the <I>Quilboma</I> was actually making +between eleven and a half and twelve knots "over the ground". Three +days after leaving Pangawani she arrived at the entrance to Bulonga +Harbour. +</P> + +<P> +Six hours elapsed before she was berthed alongside the rotting wharf, +to dry-out in a bed of noxious mud as the tide left her. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn got to work promptly, and with his accustomed enthusiasm. He +had the good luck to find the Portuguese agent on the spot. The +preposterous storage charges were discussed, haggled over, and settled; +gangs of native workmen were hired, and the task of loading up the +<I>Quilboma</I> with her bulky but precious cargo began. +</P> + +<P> +It was now that Peter met with a sudden and unexpected check, for, on +inspecting the metalwork, he found that even in a comparatively short +time the moist, tropical atmosphere had attacked the steel in spite of +the coating of oxide it had received before leaving England. +</P> + +<P> +To deliver it in this state meant a possible, nay, probable rejection +by the consignees; but fortunately the skipper of the <I>Quilboma</I> rose +to the occasion. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a couple o' kegs of oxide aboard," he announced. "Put the +niggers on to it, and let 'em give the stuff another coat." +</P> + +<P> +"Over the rust?" queried the conscientious Peter, +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man winked solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's to know?" he asked. "Paint's like charity: covers a multitude +of defects." +</P> + +<P> +"That won't do for me," declared Peter. "I'll have every bit of the +scale chipped off before the least flick of paint is put on." +</P> + +<P> +The skipper shrugged his shoulders but refrained from audible comment. +Although in his mind he considered his charterer to be a silly young +owl, especially as he was bound to a time limit, he had to confess that +Mostyn was doing the right thing. +</P> + +<P> +It took the native workmen two days of unremitting toil (Peter and the +Portuguese agent took care that it was unremitting) to clean the +steelwork and recoat it with oxide. Then the loading commenced. +</P> + +<P> +With the perspiration pouring down his face, Mostyn supervised the +removal of the ponderous girders from the enclosure, the Chief Mate +being responsible for the storage of the material in the hold. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the Old Man, puffing like a grampus, hurried up to Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"Those four long bits won't stow," he announced. "Our main hold ain't +long enough, not by five feet." +</P> + +<P> +"Will they stow on deck?" asked Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"And capsize the old hooker in the first bit o' dirty weather we run +into?" rejoined the skipper caustically. "You don't catch me doing +that, my dear sir. We'll have to leave 'em behind, and the <I>Thylied</I> +can pick 'em up. She's about due to leave Port Elizabeth, and ought to +be here in a week's time." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Skipper," said Peter firmly. "You contracted to bring this +consignment from Bulonga to Pangawani. I gave you the dimensions of +the longest girders before we came to terms, and you declared to me +that you could stow the whole of the consignment. And you'll have to +do it." +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't a matter of life an' death," expostulated the Old Man. "I'll +make a liberal abatement in the freightage charges and— +</P> + +<P> +"You won't," declared Mostyn firmly. "You won't, because you've got to +ship every bit of that steelwork; so get busy." +</P> + +<P> +The skipper of the <I>Quilboma</I> was one of those easy-going, obliging +sort of fellows who can rarely make up their minds and act unless +dominated by a person of strong, individual character. He was inclined +to let things drift, and would assuredly choose the line of least +resistance regardless of the consequences. As a navigator he was +passable; as a seaman he lacked the alertness and decision necessary to +shine at his profession. For years he had been in command of the +<I>Quilboma</I>, and not once in that time had he found himself in a really +tight corner. It was luck—pure luck—which might at a very +inopportune moment let him down very badly. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you suggest then?" he growled. +</P> + +<P> +"I suggested deck cargo," replied Peter. "You turned it down. I don't +question your authority or your wisdom on that point. The rest is up +to you." +</P> + +<P> +"A' right," rejoined the Old Man. "You just hang on here and keep +these niggers up to scratch. I'll fix it up somehow." +</P> + +<P> +And "fix it up somehow" he did; for when at sundown Mostyn returned to +the ship he found that the long, heavy girders <I>were</I> stowed. The Old +Man had had the bulkhead between the main hold and the boiler-room cut +through—it did not require much labour, so worn and rusty were the +steel plates of that bulkhead—with the result that one end of each of +the troublesome girders was within six inches of the for'ard boiler. +</P> + +<P> +At length the loading-up was completed. Steam was raised in the wheezy +boilers; the Portuguese customs officials were "suitably rewarded", and +clearance papers obtained; and at four in the afternoon the <I>Quilboma</I> +crossed the bar of Bulonga Harbour, starboarded helm, and shaped a +course for Pangawani. +</P> + +<P> +Head winds and an adverse current made a vast difference to the speed +of the old tramp. She had taken but three days to run south; five days +still found her plugging ahead with Pangawani a good fifty miles off. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Quilboma</I> was now making bad weather of it. Her foredeck was +constantly under water, as she pitched and wallowed against the head +seas. The glass was falling rapidly. Unless the ship made harbour +before the threatened storm broke, it would be impossible to cross the +bar until the weather moderated. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man began to look anxious. +</P> + +<P> +At midday Peter was with the skipper on the bridge when the Chief +Engineer approached the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"Coal's running low," he reported without any preliminaries. +</P> + +<P> +"How long can you carry on for, Mr. Jackson?" inquired the captain. +</P> + +<P> +"For five hours; less maybe," was the reply. "She's simply mopping up +coal on this run. Goodness knows why, 'cause I haven't been pressing +her overmuch." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man nodded. He quite understood. To run the antiquated +engines at anything approaching full speed ahead might easily result in +the patched-up boilers refusing duty altogether. +</P> + +<P> +"Five hours'll about do," he declared. "Keep her at it, Mr. Jackson." +</P> + +<P> +The Chief Engineer departed. He was not so sure that he could "keep +her at it". Under normal conditions the coal taken on board at +Pangawani ought to have been more than enough for the round trip. +Unaccountably the consumption was much above the average, with the +awkward result that the bunkers were nearly empty. +</P> + +<P> +"Pangawani ain't Barry Roads," remarked the Old Man to his charterer. +"There isn't a tug at Pangawani; but I'd bet my bottom dollar that, if +we were this distance from Cardiff, there'd be a round dozen o' tugs +buzzing round an' clamouring to give us a pluck in. No, laddie, we'll +have to do it on our own, and we'll jolly well do it, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently the Old Man's got a 'do or die' spasm," thought Peter, +bearing in mind his previous experience with the weak-willed master of +the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I>. "Let's hope it will last." +</P> + +<P> +By four in the afternoon the Old Man sang to a different tune. The +<I>Quilboma</I> was now within ten miles of Pangawani; but so low was the +pressure in her steam-gauges that she was making a bare five knots. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll signal the first old hooker we fall in with and get her to give +us a tow," he decided. +</P> + +<P> +"Not much chance of sighting a vessel off Pangawani, is there?" asked +Mostyn. +</P> + +<P> +"You never know your luck," quoted the Old Man sententiously, as he +stared apprehensively at the storm clouds banking up to wind'ard. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later the skipper of the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I> underwent +another change of character. +</P> + +<P> +He blew the whistle of the engine-room voice-tube. +</P> + +<P> +"How goes it, Jackson? Last shovelful out of the bunker? How are you +off for oil? Yes, any sort. Fair amount—good. Well, stand by: I'll +fix you up." +</P> + +<P> +The threatening storm had completely roused the Old Man to definite, +practical action. He surpassed himself, and, incidentally, surprised +himself and others into the bargain. +</P> + +<P> +Shouting to some of the hands he ordered them to bring axes and to +smash up one of the quarter-boats. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't stand there lookin' into the air," he bawled angrily. "Lay aft +and do what you're told. I know what I'm doin'. Carve up that blank +boat and pass the dunnage down to the stokehold, and be mighty slick +about it." +</P> + +<P> +The men, realizing the object of what had previously seemed to be a +wanton act of destruction, set to work with a will. In a very few +minutes the quarter-davits on the port side were looking very gaunt and +forlorn, while a good five hundredweights of wood soaked in crude oil +helped to feed the ravenous furnaces. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later another boat shared the fate of the first, while, in +addition, the crew collected various inflammable gear and passed it +below, where sweating firemen threw the impromptu fuel into the +furnaces. Bales of cotton waste soaked in oil were added to leaven the +whole lump, until the <I>Quilboma's</I> stumpy, salt-rimed funnel threw out +volumes of smoke that spread for miles astern like a grimy, +evil-smelling pall. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Quilboma</I> was now within sight of her goal. Broad on the port bow +could be discerned the long, low beach fringed with a quavering line of +milk-white foam and backed by the waving coco-palms and the picturesque +bungalows of Kilba's principal port. +</P> + +<P> +"How long will that little lot last you, Mr. Jackson?" inquired the Old +Man per voice-tube. "Forty minutes? Ay, I'll see to that." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to one of the lifeboats. The deck-hands, grasping the +significance of this display of dumb-show, threw themselves upon the +boat. Axes gleamed and fell with a succession of mingled thuds and +crashes. Planks, timbers, knees, breast-hooks, thwarts, masts, and +oars—all went below to the still insatiable maw of the devouring +element. +</P> + +<P> +The skipper of the <I>Quilboma</I> made no attempt to signal for a pilot. +For one reason, he knew the dangerous entrance intimately; for another, +it was doubtful whether the pilot could come out and board the vessel. +Yet another: the ship could not afford to wait, with her steam pressure +falling and the storm perilously close. +</P> + +<P> +"Starboard—meet her—at that—steady!" +</P> + +<P> +The skipper, standing beside the two quartermasters at the helm, was +about to take his sorely tried craft over the dangerous bar. It +required pluck, but there was no option if she were to make port at +all. It had to be now or never, for, if the <I>Quilboma</I> failed to make +the bar, she would either be dashed to pieces on the reef or drift +helplessly at the mercy of the gale. +</P> + +<P> +With the wind now broad on the starboard beam the old tramp rolled +horribly. Peter, hanging on to the bridge-rail, fancied that every +piece of steelwork in the hold had broken adrift. Groaning, thudding, +quivering, swept by sheets of blinding spray, the <I>Quilboma</I> staggered +towards the danger-zone. At one moment her propeller was almost clear +of the water; at the next the labouring engines seemed to be pulled up, +as the madly racing blades sank deep beneath the surface of the +broiling sea. +</P> + +<P> +Now she was in the thick of it. Tossed about like a cork, wallowing +like a barrel, the old tramp was almost unmanageable. One of the +quartermasters was juggling with the wheel of the steam steering-gear +like a man possessed, as he strove to keep the old hooker on her +course. To port and starboard the ugly reef was showing its teeth, as +the remorseless breakers crashed and receded with a continual roar of +thunder. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a thud, different from the rest of the hideous noises, shook +the ship from stem to stern. For a moment—to Peter the pause seemed +interminable—she seemed to hang up. Then, with a sickening, sideways +lurch she dragged over the hard sand into the comparatively deep and +sheltered waters beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"Done it, by Jove!" exclaimed the Old Man, as he rang down for +half-speed ahead. "We're in." +</P> + +<P> +But he was trembling like a person in a fit. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty minutes later the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I> berthed alongside the quay. +The order to draw fires was a superfluous one. The furnaces had burned +themselves out. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap38"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Completion of the Contract +</H3> + +<P> +It was too late to commence unloading that day. Peter, having notified +the authorities of the arrival of the consignment, and having arranged +for the Government surveyor to inspect the steelwork on the following +afternoon, made his way to the Davis's bungalow. +</P> + +<P> +So far all was well. The time-limit fixed for the delivery of the +Brocklington Ironworks Company's contract was still forty-eight hours +off, and there was no apparent reason why the stipulated conditions +should not be complied with. +</P> + +<P> +Olive greeted him warmly. Mr. and Mrs. Davis made him welcome with +typical overseas sincerity, and he spent a most enjoyable evening. +</P> + +<P> +At daybreak gangs of natives were set to work to clear the <I>Quilboma's</I> +hold. By noon the bulk of the steelwork lay upon the quayside. At +four in the afternoon the material was examined, tested, and passed by +the representative of the Kilba Protectorate Government, and an hour +later Peter sent another cablegram to his father: +</P> + +<P> +"Contract completed O.K. Official confirmation follows." +</P> + +<P> +This pleasurable duty performed, Mostyn went to pay Mahmed a visit. He +found his boy progressing favourably, his many wounds having healed +without any sign of complications. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll soon be able to send you back to India, Mahmed," said Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"Me no want go India, sahib," protested Mahmed. "Me stay all one-time +with you. Me good cook, me wash-brush sahib's clothes. Me do +eb'rything." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm going back to England," announced his master. "There I don't +know what will happen. I may not get another ship for a very long +time." +</P> + +<P> +"No matter," rejoined Mahmed, with sublime optimism. "Me stay with +sahib. Me make <I>char</I> for sahib." +</P> + +<P> +Peter left it at that. He little knew that Mahmed spoke with the +tongue of prophecy. +</P> + +<P> +Later on in the evening the Head Commissioner sent for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in a pressing hurry to get home, Mr. Mostyn?" he inquired, +after congratulating him upon the successful voyage and happy +termination of his trip on the S.S. <I>Quilboma</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Peter thought not. Providing that he was not detained to give evidence +in the Skeets case, he was in no immediate hurry. Apart from the +pleasure of meeting his parents again, he was not particularly keen +upon returning to England. +</P> + +<P> +He was well aware of the state of affairs in the wireless service at +home; how hundreds of skilled operators were "on the beach" through no +fault of their own, and that the prospect of immediate re-engagement +was very remote. Wireless officers were just now much in the same +position as Tommy Atkins. While there was a war on, and wireless men +were in great demand for sea-service, the various shipping companies +were almost falling over each other and themselves in their efforts to +secure skilled operators. Now that the war is ancient history, and sea +risks are falling to pre-1914 level, the services of wireless officers +are no longer in great demand. The slump in shipping has dealt a +severe blow to radio-telegraphists. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," agreed the Head Commissioner, when Mostyn had stated his +views. "As a matter of fact we are developing wireless communication +in the Protectorate as we find it far cheaper than and quite as +efficient as ordinary telegraphy. Setting up telegraph posts for +elephants and rhinos to butt into is an expensive game. So I sent for +you. I can offer you a really good Government appointment, with free +quarters, and splendid prospects of rapid promotion. You're just the +type of fellow I want; so what do you say?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter did not reply. He was thinking deeply, struggling with a very +complex proposition. +</P> + +<P> +"And six months leave in England on full pay every two years, with free +passage out and back," added the Head Commissioner, as an extra +inducement—a bait that had often beforetimes turned the scale. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks awfully, sir," said Peter, "but I'd like to have some time to +think things over." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," agreed the official, but at the same time he felt rather +disappointed. He had been fully prepared to find that Mostyn would +jump at the tempting offer. According to what he had heard, Mostyn was +a man of action. It rather puzzled him that the Wireless Officer +should hesitate to close with the offer of a rattling good post. "Take +a day to think things over and then let me know." +</P> + +<P> +As soon as the interview was at an end Peter hurried round to consult +his older and, perhaps, more experienced chum Preston. +</P> + +<P> +He found the Acting Chief sitting in a deck-chair under the veranda of +the club-house. Preston, like Mahmed, was making a rapid recovery, and +already he was able to walk for a few yards with the aid of a stick. +</P> + +<P> +"You silly young blighter!" he exclaimed, when Peter told him of his +interview with the Head Commissioner. "Why on earth didn't you jump at +it? The pay they're offering you is equal to a cool £800 a year at +home, to say nothing of extras chucked in. By Jove! If it had been +me—— I suppose there aren't any more plums knocking around for a +has-been shellback of forty like me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't jump at it, old man," replied Peter slowly. "I couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"On Miss Baird's account," explained Mostyn. "You know I promised to +see her safely back to England, and I simply couldn't go back on my +word." +</P> + +<P> +Preston grunted. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she so very keen on going?" he demanded. "From what I've heard and +seen I don't think she is. Look here, Mostyn, old son. I'm going to +be the Grand Inquisitor for once, being almost old enough to be your +father. Are you fond of the girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Peter without hesitation. He was sure on <I>that</I> point. +</P> + +<P> +"And is she fond of you?" continued the Grand Inquisitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Think so," was the non-committal reply. "Not so sure about it, +though," he added. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I am," rejoined Preston, with a dry chuckle. "I've been +keeping my eye upon the pair of you for some considerable time back. +Look here, old son; you're a decent sort of fellow with a clean run an' +all that. That's what counts with a girl, after all's said and done. +You've been offered a rattling good berth with nothing of the 'blind +alley' touch about it. All you want now is a sheet-anchor—a jolly +sensible girl as a life-partner; one with whom you're not likely to +part brass-rags in less than a twelvemonth. Bit of a mixed metaphor, +isn't it; but you know what I mean? That girl is Miss Baird; so don't +stand hanging on to the slack. Ask her to be your wife." +</P> + +<P> +Peter said nothing. He was very agreeably surprised to hear the +hitherto matter-of-fact Acting Chief launching out upon such a subject. +</P> + +<P> +"For goodness sake don't think that I'm starting a matrimonial agency +stunt, old thing," continued Preston. "I know many a young fellow +who's run aground on the rocks 'cause he's been a fool to get spliced +without looking ahead. You're different. There, I've had my say. +Full speed ahead and you'll win. And good luck to you." +</P> + +<P> +Thanking his old chum, Mostyn went off feeling considerably elated. +Preston's views completely coincided with his own, and the Acting +Chief's words of encouragement helped to fill up the gap in Peter's +resolution. +</P> + +<P> +The ordeal in front of him was a trying one, he expected; far more +stupendous and momentous than he had ever experienced. His adventures +while on the books of the S.S. <I>Donibristle</I> and the S.S. <I>West +Barbican</I> were light by comparison. +</P> + +<P> +"No use putting things off," he decided; and, acting upon this +resolution, he presented himself at the Davis's bungalow. +</P> + +<P> +Not the shadow of a chance did he have to broach the momentous subject +to Olive. Davis and his wife were so hospitable that they never left +Peter and Olive alone for one moment. +</P> + +<P> +At eleven, with his mind still unburdened, Mostyn returned to his +quarters. +</P> + +<P> +At dawn, after a restless night, he arose, bathed, shaved, and dressed, +and went out. +</P> + +<P> +He was by no means the only early riser. The white population of +Pangawani make a point of getting exercise before the heat of the +tropical day. Watching from afar Peter saw signs of activity at the +Davis's bungalow. Native grooms were leading three ponies round to the +front of the veranda. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later Peter strolled, outwardly unconcerned, past the +house, just as Olive and her host and hostess were coming out. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, old man!" exclaimed Davis. "Topping morning, isn't it? We're +off for a canter through the orange groves. Come along." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, do," added the two ladies. +</P> + +<P> +"Delighted," replied Peter. +</P> + +<P> +Davis shouted to a native groom to saddle another pony. +</P> + +<P> +Mostyn eyed the mount with a certain degree of misgiving. He would +have been perfectly at home in the saddle of a motor-bicycle at +anything up to fifty miles an hour. There the control was entirely in +his own hands. A pony, he reflected, isn't a machine; it is an animal +possessing brains and possibly an obstinate will. If the brute took it +into his head to exceed ten miles an hour Peter wouldn't guarantee to +keep his seat. He didn't profess to be a horseman, but in the +circumstances he simply had to risk it and take his chance. +</P> + +<P> +His horsemanship was far better than he had expected it to be, although +Olive gave him points on the management of a pony. It was an +exhilarating canter along the stretch of broad, white sands, followed +by a steady climb to the summit of Mohollo Head. +</P> + +<P> +"Pull up for a minute, Olive," suggested Peter. "My pony is a bit +winded, I think. Let's admire the view." +</P> + +<P> +Quite naturally the girl fell in with the suggestion. Davis and his +wife were still riding on ahead. +</P> + +<P> +It was an ideal morning. The sun was still low in the eastern sky. A +fresh breeze stirred the broad leaves of the coco-palms. The foam +lashed itself upon the distant reef, while within the rocky barrier the +water was as calm as a mill-pond. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't this topping!" exclaimed Peter, with a comprehensive sweep of +his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Delightful," agreed Olive. "I shall be very sorry to have to say +good-bye to Pangawani." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's whole-hearted admiration gave Mostyn the looked-for opening. +With sailor-like alertness he seized the opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why leave Pangawani?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Olive looked at him wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean, Peter?" she asked. "When do you think you will be +going home?" +</P> + +<P> +"In two years time, I hope," he replied. "But that depends upon you." +</P> + +<P> +"Upon me?" rejoined the girl, a faint colour stealing across her +half-averted face, as she suddenly realized the point of her +companion's remarks. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see," explained Mostyn, "I've been offered a Government post +out here—a jolly good one. I couldn't accept it because I hadn't +spoken to you about it. We agreed, I think, that I should be your +guardian—'guardian' is a rotten term, isn't it?—until I saw you +safely home." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, please, let that stand in your way," said Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"It will," declared Peter, "unless——" +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes or so later Davis exclaimed to his wife: "Hello! Where +are the others?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," was the reply. "I quite thought they were following. +Trot back and see; I'll wait here." +</P> + +<P> +Another five minutes and Davis rejoined his wife. Deliberately he +dismounted, charged a pipe, and lit it. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no hurry," he reported. "They're quite all right. I saw from +a distance that I was <I>de trop</I>, so I beat a strategic retreat." +</P> + +<P> +Davis finished his pipe, filled up and lit another. +</P> + +<P> +At length the sound of the now walking ponies' hoofs upon the soft +ground announced the arrival of the laggards. Then into the glade rode +Peter and Olive, both looking radiantly happy. +</P> + +<P> +"Congratulate me, old man!" said Peter excitedly He did not need to +explain. +</P> + +<P> +Davis rammed his still-burning pipe into his pocket—he had good cause +to remember it later—and extended a sun-burnt hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You lucky dog!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Wireless Officer, by Percy F. 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