The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story

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The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story Page 29

by Percy F. Westerman


  CHAPTER XXVIII

  The "Titania"

  The next three days passed without incident. The breeze heldsteadily, but owing to the foul state of the schooner's bottom, whichwas encrusted with barnacles and growing marine "whiskers" up to ayard in length, her speed was less than five knots. There werenavigation instruments and nautical works on board, so that Burgoynewas able to determine the latitude with tolerable certainty. Thefinding of the ship's longitude was a doubtful operation, since Alwynwas in ignorance of the exactness of the chronometer, but since thecourse was almost due south, and the ultimate goal a wide one,Burgoyne felt no misgivings on the score of longitude.

  At sundown on the third day the wind died down to a flat calm, andthe schooner rolled sullenly in the long swell. So violent was themotion of the main-boom, that the crew were compelled to stow themainsail. Even then the gaff of the fore-sail was charging about likea flail, while every movable object on deck was chattering with theerratic motion of the vessel.

  In case of a sudden squall blowing up during the night the three menremained on deck. There was nothing to be done. The wheel, lasheddown in a vain attempt to subdue the disconcerting jerk of the rudderchains, required no attention. The side lights were burning brightly.The air was warm, although there was a heavy dew. So the night passedslowly, the crew passing the time by yarning and considerablyreducing the stock of tobacco that Black Strogoff had unwittinglyleft for their comfort.

  Day broke. The weary crew looked in vain for the signs of anapproaching breeze. Even the swell had subsided until the surface ofthe sea looked like a burnished mirror against the rising sun. A fewdolphins playing near the ship were the only signs of life.

  "A regular Paddy's hurricane," remarked Burgoyne. "Looks as if it'sgoing to last. We may as well start up the engine, old son. Thesooner we get out of this belt of calm the better."

  "All right, skipper," replied Mostyn cheerfully, his tirednesstemporarily forgotten at the thought of once more getting way on thevessel.

  In less than ten minutes the motor was running, and the schoonerbowling along at a speed of seven and a half knots by the patent log.Giving time for the engine to get sufficiently hot for the paraffinto vaporize, Peter turned off the petrol and opened the paraffin-tap.Satisfied with the running of the engine, Mostyn returned on deck.

  "That's more like it," he exclaimed, as the faint draught of air setup by the motion of the craft fanned his heated face. "How long doyou think it will be before we pick up a breeze?"

  "Four or five hours, I expect," replied Burgoyne. "These belts ofcalm rarely extend more than forty miles in the tropics."

  "She'll do that on her head," declared Peter. Then he listenedintently. His ear, trained to catch the faint buzzing of a wirelessreceiver, had detected a pronounced slowing down of the hithertoregular pulsations of the engine.

  Without a word he dived down the motor-room ladder. He had not beenmistaken. The engine was slowing down. A rapid test located thefault. The carburettor was almost empty.

  "Choked jet," he said to himself; then, as an afterthought, he"turned over" to petrol again. Almost immediately the motor picked upand the shaft resumed its normal revolutions.

  "That means a choke in the feed-pipe," he decided, and, selecting asmall shifting spanner, proceeded to disconnect the unions.

  No paraffin flowed through the pipe. Mostyn glanced at the gauge onthe tank. It registered zero. Unaccountably the tank had emptieditself of more than seventy gallons of paraffin during the night.

  Further researches discovered the cause, although that could not giveback the wasted fuel. The paraffin-pipe was fractured, possibly bythe starting-handle when the engine back-fired, and now only about agallon of petrol was available.

  Burgoyne looked grave when Mostyn reported the latest misfortune.

  "We've paraffin for the lamps," he remarked. "About ten gallons in adrum in the forepeak. Can you patch up the pipe?"

  "If that were all the damage, old thing, it wouldn't much matter,"declared Peter. "I can fix that up with insulating tape in a coupleof minutes. It's the wasted kerosene that worries me."

  "S'pose we couldn't pump it out of the bilges?" asked Burgoyne.

  "We'll have to, in case it vaporizes and explodes," replied Mostyn."Of course, it isn't nearly so dangerous as petrol, but in hotweather----"

  "I mean to use it again," interrupted Alwyn.

  "'Fraid not," said the temporary engineer. "It's all slushing aboutin the bilge-water. If the schooner had been bone dry we might havemanaged it. However, ten gallons is better than none. I'll fix upthat pipe at once."

  Mostyn effected the temporary repair, poured the remaining oil intothe tank, and had turned over from petrol to paraffin in less thantwenty minutes. He even added a gallon of lubricating oil to thefuel, knowing that with the engine well warmed up the motor wouldtake almost anything in the way of liquid fuel.

  Thus nursed, the engine continued running for nearly three hours anda half; then, every drop of combustible being used up, the motorstopped. The flat calm still held.

  It held the rest of that day and the following night. Morning foundthe climatic conditions unchanged, and at noon Burgoyne ascertainedthat in twenty-four hours the schooner had drifted a little more thanten miles in a nor'-westerly direction, or in other words, she hadbeen carried by the North Equatorial Current farther from herdestination.

  In vain the men took turns in going aloft to the cross-trees in thehope of seeing the water ruffled by a welcome breeze. As the sun rosehigher and higher the heat was so intense that the deck was almosttoo hot to tread upon, while below the air was suffocating. AlthoughMostyn and Minalto had pumped the bilges dry, the whole craft reekedof paraffin, mellowed by a dozen distinct odours.

  "Cheer up," exclaimed Burgoyne, trying to rouse his companions from astate of lethargy. "Things might be a jolly sight worse. Remember themen who made the British Empire what it is to-day had to endure thissort of thing every time they encountered the Doldrums."

  "Yes," grumbled Peter. "They might have; but they knew what toexpect--before steam was known, I mean. We are different. Spoilt bycivilization, so to speak, and when we are deprived of luxuries whichwe call necessaries, we grouse. Our motor, for example, it's like ahalf-baked chestnut, neither one thing nor the other."

  "It has helped us, Mr. Mostyn," observed Hilda.

  "True, Miss Vivian," agreed Peter guardedly. "Helped us move with thepatch of calm. What was the old seamen's dodge of raising the wind?"

  "Pitching a tale of woe to charitable passers-by, I guess," repliedthe girl.

  "No, not that way, I mean," continued the Wireless Officer. "Wasn'tit whistling or scratching the mast, or some such stunt? I'm afraidI've forgotten."

  "Sail-ho!" shouted Minalto from the fore cross-trees. "On our portbow, sir."

  The schooner, drifting idly on the placid surface, had swung round sothat her bows were pointing nor'-nor'-east. Consequently, if thevessel sighted were approaching, her course would be roughly the sameas that of the schooner if the latter had had steerage-way.

  "What is she?" inquired Burgoyne, preparing to swarm aloft with BlackStrogoff's binoculars slung round his neck.

  "Can't make out, sir," was the reply. "Steamer. I think, 'causethere's no canvas as I can see."

  "Let's hope it isn't the _Malfilio_," thought Alwyn, as he graspedthe hot, tarry shrouds, and cautiously ascended the none too soundratlins.

  Gaining the elevated perch, Burgoyne levelled the glasses in thedirection of the distant vessel.

  "She's not the _Malfilio_, thank goodness, Jasper," he remarked."She's a steamer schooner-rigged, and with one funnel; hull paintedwhite. We'll signal her and get her to give us a passage."

  In default of a set of International Code flags, Burgoyne hoisted adark blanket rolled into a ball, and under it two pennants hastilycontrived by cutting up one of the cabin curtains. This was asubstitute for the special long distance signals made by a ball andtwo cones point downwards, but its signi
ficance was clear to everyexperienced seamen. It meant: "Come nearer; I have somethingimportant to communicate".

  Rather anxiously Burgoyne watched the approaching vessel. From hisown point of view he would have preferred to let her pass by. Hewould have liked to bring the schooner into port solely on his ownresponsibility, even if it took a couple of months. But there wereimportant considerations. There were his comrades in captivity; therewas Hilda. It was highly important that the proper authorities shouldbe informed of the actual fate of the three missing merchant ships inorder that Ramon Porfirio and his band of pirates should be renderedincapable of doing further mischief.

  In about half an hour after the hoisting of the signal, theapproaching craft altered helm and steered towards Burgoyne'scommand.

  She was a schooner-bowed vessel of about 400 tons, painted white hullwith a green boot-top. Her single funnel emitted no smoke exceptlittle puffs of bluish vapour. She flew no ensign. Most of her crewwere blacks, but on the bridge were two white men in white drilluniforms.

  "She's motor driven," declared Peter. "That funnel is only aconcession to appearance, even though it does carry out the exhaust.Wonder what she's doing here?"

  "We'll soon find out," replied Burgoyne. "She is or was, at one timea private yacht. Have you collected all the gear you require, MissVivian? We are going to beg a passage in yonder vessel, and they maybe in a hurry."

  The stranger slowed down, but made no attempt to lower a boat. Whenwithin hailing distance, one of the officers on the bridge shoutedthrough a megaphone.

  "Schooner, ahoy! What do you want?"

  "What ship is that?" inquired Burgoyne.

  "_Titania_, of Southampton," was the reply. "What are you?"

  "No name," replied Alwyn. "We're survivors of the S.S. _Donibristle_.Can you give us a passage?"

  Evidently the name of the missing merchant vessel was unknown to theofficers of the _Titania_. They conferred for a few minutes, then theone who had previously hailed raised his hand.

  "Right-o!" he replied. "Stand by to take a warp. I'll run alongsideyou."

  Under the action of the twin screws, the _Titania_, skilfullyhandled, ranged up alongside the diminutive schooner. In a very shortspace of time the crew of the latter with their scanty belongingsstood on the _Titania's_ deck.

  They must have been a source of wonder to the neatly groomed andattired officers. They were all more or less in rags, and tannedalmost to a deep red colour. Burgoyne, Mostyn, and Minalto allsported beards of different hues: red, blond, and black. Hilda, inher man's dress, bareheaded, and her growing locks nearly reachingher shoulders, was for the first time since leaving the secret basepainfully conscious of her unorthodox appearance.

  The _Titania's_ skipper stepped forward to greet them, smartlysaluting the girl.

  "My name's Swayne," he announced. "This is my partner, PaddyO'Loghlin. Pleased to be of service to you."

  "Thanks awfully," replied Burgoyne. "I've met you before. You were inthe old _Bolero_ in '18."

  "I was," admitted Swayne, "but I can't recall your tally."

  "Not in these whiskers," agreed Alwyn with a laugh, after he hadintroduced himself and his companions. "I was R.N. in those days. Ourlight cruiser was moored ahead of your packet in Dover Harbour."

  "Good old days!" exclaimed Swayne whimsically. "Not that I've much tocomplain about as things go nowadays. We're bound from Nua Leha forSydney. Will that suit?"

  "Admirably," agreed Burgoyne.

  "Your schooner," continued the skipper of the _Titania_. "Seems apity to cast her adrift."

  "Please yourself," said Alwyn. "We came by her cheaply enough, andshe's served our purpose. If she's of any use to you, take her by allmeans."

  "You've an engine on board," remarked O'Loghlin.

  "But no petrol or kerosene," announced Mostyn. "Jolly good littlemotor, too."

  "I'll accept your offer, Mr. Burgoyne," said Swayne. "We'll put acrew on board, and a hundred gallons of fuel, and let them navigateher to Nua Leha. We can pick her up later on. I've a fairly smartKanaka navigator, and plenty of natives to spare until later on.We've been doing a bit of salvage work amongst the islands, and nowwe're off back to Sydney to replenish stores. Come below. Will youhave anything to eat? As regards cabins we can easily fix you all up.Last trip we had thirteen all berthed aft. No, it wasn't unlucky forus. Quite the reverse. 'Spose you heard about the treasure recoveredfrom the Fusi Yama? Kit? H'm, we can rig you out all right, but thelady--yes, Miss Vivian, we've a sewing-machine on board. A couple ifyou like."

  While the crew of the _Titania_, under the supervision of O'Loghlin,were preparing the schooner for her independent cruise, Swayne busiedhimself to attend to the wants of his self-invited guests.

  Pending the making up of suitable attire, Hilda was provided with newclothes of masculine cut. Burgoyne and Mostyn, after the luxury of ahair trim and shave, were completely "kitted out" from Swayne's andO'Loghlin's ample wardrobes, while Fontayne, the third Englishman ofthe _Titania's_ complement, took Minalto in hand if for no otherreason than that Fontayne hailed from the county nearest theScillies.

  "They've fuelled and provisioned the schooner," announced Swayne whenHilda, Burgoyne, and Mostyn returned to the saloon. "You may as wellsee the last of her. By that time grub will be ready."

  They went on deck. The schooner's motor was running free, emittingdense columns of bluish smoke from her exhaust. Half a dozen Kanakas,under the charge of a big, full-faced Fijian, were in possession.

  "All ready?" shouted O'Loghlin. "Let go."

  The schooner forged ahead, ported helm, and swung round in her coursetowards the distant island of Nua Leha. Five minutes later the_Titania's_ engines began to purr rhythmically, and at a steadytwelve knots she headed south. Soon the schooner was a mere dot onthe horizon, and then only did her late crew go below.

  The meal was a sumptuous one as far as the guests were concerned. Inhonour of their fair passenger Swayne and his companions spared noeffort to do the thing in style. Rose-tinted shades newly placed overthe electric lamps threw a warm glow on the clean linen table-cloth.(The table-cloth was the only one on board, and usually the three mensat down to a coverless board, but that fact was sedulously keptdark.) The cutlery had been brightly polished; china took the placeof the customary enamelled ware. Mahommed Bux, the Indian stewardwhom Swayne had engaged at Sydney, had risen splendidly to theoccasion, and a dinner served in a style that would have done creditto many a noted French chef was duly appreciated.

  They celebrated the occasion--the men being ex-officers of HisMajesty's Service--by loyally drinking the King's health, then overthe wine the story of the captured _Donibristle_, the secret base,and the adventures on Swan Island were related to the attentive andastonished hosts. Burgoyne kept back nothing in the recital.

  "All I ask," he concluded, "is to keep the matter dark when we arriveat Sydney. The safety of our comrades in captivity depends largelyupon a swift and successful coup, and I haven't the faintest doubtbut that the Australian Navy will see to that, and do the job aseffectually as the _Sydney_ tackled the _Emden_ at Cocos Keeling."

  "You'll be there to see it done, you lucky dog," remarked Swayne.

  "I don't know. I hope so," replied Burgoyne.

 

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