.
"And Miss Vivian is just splendid," he continued lowering his voice. "We rigged her up a sort of caboose under one of the intake ventilators. She told Angus that she'd slept well, but she couldn't tackle rice and cold water, so I'm going to fill my pockets with biscuits for her. No objections, I hope?"
"Do the pirates worry you much?" asked Branscombe.
"Directly – no; indirectly – yes," was the reply. "They don't post guards in the engine-room, which is a blessing; but they are continually calling for more revolutions. Perhaps they imagine we're a South American republic – how's that for a joke, Branscombe?"
"Feeble," was the reply, "but get on with it."
"There's nothing much to get on with," continued the Second Engineer. "There was a talk of tinkering with the high-pressure slide-valves and stopping the engines, only Angus said that, if the Donibristle did break down, the cruiser would doubtless remove the prize crew and send her to the bottom – and us as well. So that didn't come off. But, I say, who's eating chocolate?"
"No one," replied Alwyn.
"You're wrong, old son," he replied presently, "or perhaps I ought to say 'Mr. Burgoyne' now? Fact remains, I smell chocolate. The air's stiff with it."
"Hanged if I can whiff it," exclaimed Alwyn. "Iodoform, yes, but not chocolate."
For answer the Second Engineer grasped Burgoyne's arm and led him across the compartment. With a sense of smell almost as acute as that of a dog, he led Alwyn to a dark corner formed by the angle of one of the cabin bulkheads with the ship's side. There, seated on an upturned bucket, was Miles – and there was no doubt now as to the reek of chocolate. Filled with indignation at the gross selfishness of the drummer, Burgoyne held out his hand.
"I'll trouble you to hand over what's left," he said curtly.
But Miles was not going to surrender his spoils without protest.
"Say, what for?" he asked. "If I took the precaution to lay in a stock, that is my affair."
Burgoyne with difficulty restrained his temper.
"At once," he exclaimed sternly. Having been trained from his early youth to manage men, he was not going to stand any nonsense from a coward.
The passenger gasped but complied. Burgoyne found himself possessed of a slab of chocolate weighing nearly a pound. The wretched fellow, taking advantage of the fact that during the chase the steward's pantry was unattended, had taken and concealed the toothsome stuff.
"Mr. Holmes!" sang out the Third Officer
The purser appeared.
"This is part of the ship's stores, is it not?" inquired Burgoyne.
Mr. Holmes replied in the affirmative, volunteering the additional information that the chocolate was stamped with the company's initials – a fact that in his haste the pilferer had overlooked.
"Right-o, Mr. Holmes," continued Alwyn. "That leaves me with a clear conscience. Take charge of the stuff and issue it out in equal shares to everyone aft. Keep back a share for Mr. Angus and the Third Engineer when they arrive."
But when Withers returned to the engine-room his pockets were bulging – not only with biscuits, but with small cubes of chocolate. Spontaneously, and almost without exception, every temporary occupant of the steerage had given up his share to Hilda Vivian.
CHAPTER VII
Ramon Porfirio
After four days and four nights of captivity, during which period the Donibristle had covered about 600 miles, the engines ceased their steady throb, and the prisoners heard the muffled roar of a chain-cable running through the hawse-pipe.
Speculation was rife as to where the captured merchantman had brought-up, while the majority of the captives expressed an opinion that, provided they found themselves in the open air, the locality of the anchorage didn't very much matter just at present. After nearly a hundred hours of close confinement, fed on meagre and monotonous fare, unwashed and unkempt, they welcomed the prospect of a change.
Their guards, too, had been removed. Evidently the pirates were now satisfied that the prisoners were no longer in a position to cause trouble; while in support of that theory a half-caste South American appeared and unbolted the dead-lights.
The flow of pure, balmy air through the now opened scuttles was like a draught of the sweetest nectar to the jaded and dishevelled men. There was a rush to see where the ship was lying, until at every scuttle two or three people were simultaneously trying to look out.
The Donibristle was lying in a circular and apparently completely landlocked harbour surrounded by tall cliffs. Further examination revealed a narrow gap, which, in turn, was fronted on the seaward side by a lofty ridge of rock, which, harmonizing with the cliffs of the island, presented at first sight an appearance of continuity. The cliffs were so high and close to the water's edge that from the Donibristle it was impossible to see what lay beyond – whether the ground rose to a still greater height, whether it was wooded or otherwise, or whether the island was of large or small extent.
About two cables away lay the Malfilio, also at anchor, while closer in shore were two vessels that Burgoyne rightly concluded were the ill-fated Alvarado and Kittiwake. A few sailing craft, bêche de mer traders seized by the pirates, were also to be seen, some of them lying aground with a heavy list.
It was now close on sunset. The tranquil waters of the harbour were shrouded in deepening shadow, while the horizontal rays of the setting sun bathed the summit of the eastern cliffs in a glint of reddish gold. Beyond that serrated line of sun-bathed cliff the sky was broken by three thin columns of smoke rising slowly in the still air.
"It's a snug berth at all events," observed Burgoyne, with a sailor's unerring instinct for a safe harbour. "But it would puzzle a stranger to find his way in."
"Will they set us ashore to-night, do you think?" asked Colonel Vivian.
Before Alwyn could reply the door was thrown open, and the engineer officers of both watches entered. That was a sign that their work in the engine-room was finished.
In the dim light no one noticed that Withers was not with them, but that instead there was a stranger, a tall, slender fellow of almost Withers's height and build, rigged out in the company's uniform, and with the peaked cap raked jauntily over the left eye. And until the "fellow" went straight up to the Colonel and took hold of his hands, even Burgoyne failed to recognize Hilda Vivian.
"We couldna let the wee lassie bide there," declared Angus apologetically, as if he were ashamed of having brought her along. "An' ye ken fine why."
"And where's Withers?" asked Burgoyne.
The old Scot shook his head.
"A' would do it," he declared, and went on to explain that the Second Engineer had insisted in donning a fireman's boiler-suit and giving his uniform to Miss Vivian.
"An' in the gloamin' they'll no ken the difference," he concluded.
"So far so good," soliloquized Alwyn. "But in daylight there may be quite a different story. The rascals have seen Withers and the other fellow going in and out of the engine-room. They'll twig a strange officer in a trice, I'm afraid."
But a glance at Hilda convinced him that running the risk had its compensations. The girl, even in her sorrow at her mother's death, was happy at being reunited to her father – her sole surviving relative. Clearly she was taking little or no thought for the morrow.
When it became a practically assured fact that the prisoners were to remain on board at least another night, there was general activity on the part of all the able-bodied men, with one exception, to fix up Miss Vivian in her new quarters. Willing hands quickly cleared out – it could not truthfully be said "cleaned out" – one of the cabins for her use, making far less fuss about having to sleep uncomfortably crowded than they had when they had fifteen hundred cubic feet more space.
The exception was Jules Miles, the Canuk bagman. At daybreak the survivors of the Donibristle's original crew were ordered on deck. Evidently the pirates were in a desperate