The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story. Westerman Percy Francis
fuselage. Even as the machine rose from the water, dangling at the end of a wire rope, her wings swung back and folded themselves against the body, and in this compact form the aerial scout vanished from sight behind the Malfilio's superstructure.
This much Burgoyne saw before he was compelled to follow the remaining officers and deck-hands, including the Cockney who had been told to stand by the whistle lanyard, and who, during the operation of swinging in the boats, had seen his officer's signal for recall.
Once 'tween decks, the men were herded for'ard and locked up in the forepeak, an armed pirate being stationed on the hatchway. The remnant of officers and the passengers were ordered aft, and secured in the steerage, where they found Captain Blair, Mostyn, and the other wounded. There were four cabins at their disposal, the whole separated from the rest of the ship by a transverse bulkhead in which was a single sliding door. Outside this a sentry was posted, while, as an additional precaution, that for some reason was not taken in the case of the men, four villainous-looking Orientals, armed to the teeth, were stationed with the prisoners. The dead-lights were screwed into the scuttles, and the captives warned that any attempt at tampering with them would be punishable with death; and, since the electric light had failed, the steerage was dimly illuminated by half a dozen oil-lamps.
The door had not been locked more than a couple of minutes before the prisoners heard the thresh of the twin propellers. The S.S. Donibristle under her new masters was steaming ahead, under greatly reduced speed, in the wake of the pirate cruiser Malfilio– but whither?
The reaction of the excitement and peril of the last few hours now set in, and a state of lethargy took possession of most of the prisoners. The hot, confined, ill-ventilated space, the reek of iodoform pervading everything, and a sheer hunger and fatigue all combined to suppress any desire for conversation. For some hours the silence was broken only by the moans of the wounded and the clank of the freshwater pump, as the parched men quenched their burning thirst with frequent and copious draughts, while constantly their Chinese guards, with their expressionless yellow faces and slanting eyes, paced to and fro, like sinister demons from another world.
Hour after hour passed. Darkness succeeded daylight. At intervals the guards were changed, and at about nine o'clock a negro brought in a small sack of ship's biscuits.
About midnight Miles attempted to start a conversation by grumbling to Tarrant about the bad methods of the Mercantile Marine, and the British Columbian and Chinese Line in particular, in allowing ships to leave port in a defenceless condition. Tarrant promptly "shut him up", amidst a murmur of applause from the men in the vicinity, for the drummer's anxiety for his own safety, and disregard of the plight of his companions, had not failed to be noticed.
"That's the way to deal with him, Mr. Tarrant," remarked Alwyn. "We've quite enough to put up with without having to listen to the yapping and whining of a spiritless fellow like that."
"Yes, it's deucedly unfortunate," said Tarrant, "but so far we haven't been badly treated."
"No," agreed Burgoyne, "we haven't. They've spared our lives, although that rather puzzles me. One would have thought that, being pirates, they would emulate the Hun and do the 'spurlos versenkt' stunt. Piracy is a hanging matter, and having gone thus far it's a wonder they didn't go the whole hog. However, they haven't and I don't think they will now."
"I always thought that there was no such thing as piracy nowadays," remarked the purser, "at least only in a small way in the China seas."
"Then you'll have to revise your ideas, Holmes," rejoined Burgoyne. "It came as a shock to all of us. One of the aftermaths of the Great War, I suppose, and the very audacity of it brings temporary – let us hope – success. This game can't last long. Once the world gets wind of it there'll be British, Yankee, and Jap light cruisers and destroyers on the Malfilio's heels, and she'll be rounded up in double quick time."
"I wonder where they are taking us," said Tarrant.
"That I can't say," replied Alwyn. "But, if it's any information to you, I can inform you that we've been steaming roughly nor'west for the last six hours."
"How do you know that?" inquired Branscombe in astonishment. "Here we are cooped up without a chance of seeing a single star, and yet – "
"I've a compass, laddie," replied Burgoyne. "A liquid pocket compass, and I mean to stick to it as long as I jolly well can. Naturally, in playing a billiard handicap, a fellow…"
He continued discoursing upon the irrelevant subject of billiards for more than a minute, his companions expressing no surprise at the sudden change of topic. It was not until the Chinese sentry had passed and was out of earshot, that the former theme was resumed.
"That chap might understand English," observed Burgoyne. "Well, I can also tell you this; if we hold on our course sufficiently long, we'll fetch up on one of the Aleutian Islands, or else on the coast of Kamtchatka."
"Give me something a little warmer," protested Tarrant. "There's nothing like getting used – "
A voice, hoarse, masterful, and at the same time, slightly incoherent, interrupted the conclave. Captain Blair was recovering consciousness and making a considerable song about it.
"Mr. Angus," he shouted, "can't you whack her up a bit more? Three knots if you burst. The cowardly skunks – women on board, and the villains are shelling us. Mr. Angus, are you there?"
In a trice Burgoyne was by the Old Man's side, fearful lest he should divulge the fact to the pirate that there had been more than one woman on board.
"It's all right, sir," he said soothingly. "We've got the heels of them."
"Eh?" exclaimed the skipper. "Who's that?"
"Burgoyne, sir."
"And we've given 'em the slip, eh? Yes, the firing's stopped right enough. Where am I?"
"In good hands," replied Alwyn. "You've been knocked about a bit, but Holmes and the steward have patched you up all right."
"Yes, I remember," rejoined Captain Blair. "I told you to carry on, and everything's O.K.?"
Reassured on that point, the Old Man gave a long sigh, closed his eyes, and sank into a sound slumber.
Towards morning Burgoyne noticed, by consulting his compass, that the Donibristle had altered her course and was steering due west.
"Kamtchatka's off," he announced, as Tarrant appeared munching a biscuit. "They've altered course four points to the west'ard."
"And that means?" asked the Consular Service man. "That we make Japan if we carry on as we are going," replied Alwyn.
"H'm; s' long as they land me within easy distance of my destination I welcome the alteration," observed Tarrant. "But perhaps they're making for a coral island or something of that sort. Are there any hereabouts?"
"Evidently they mean to give Hawaii a wide berth," said Burgoyne. "After that there are only a few small islands – the Ocean Islands they're called. I've never been there, because they lie to the nor'ard of our regular track and a good way south of the Yokohama-San Francisco route."
"Uninhabited?"
Burgoyne shook his head.
"I've told you all I know," he asserted. "It isn't much. But we'll find out in due course, I expect."
Shortly afterwards the bulkhead door was unlocked, and Withers was unceremoniously shown in.
"What's for brekker?" he asked. "I'm ravenous."
"Ship's biscuit and lukewarm water, old son," replied Branscombe. "What are you doing here?"
"The blighters are letting us work watch and watch," said the Second Engineer, voraciously biting off chunks of the tough biscuit. "I've had my stand-easy, and they sent me aft to get some grub before I'm on again. Angus will be here in another quarter of an hour."
"And the men?" asked Burgoyne "How are they standing it?"
"Fine, everything considered," replied Withers "Even though they are being fed on rice as if they were Chinks." He glanced at the Chinese guards. They were bunched together close to the bulkhead door, resuming an