CHAPTER III
"Heave-to or I'll Sink You"
"Hear that noise? Sounds like an aeroplane overhead," exclaimedBranscombe.
It was high noon. The _Donibristle_ was approximately five hundredmiles nor'-west of the Sandwich Islands. The sky was clear andbright. Air and sea were shimmering under the powerful rays of thesun.
"Hanged if I can," replied Burgoyne, "I think you're mistaken, oldson. It's hardly likely that a seaplane would be buzzing round overthis part of the Pacific."
Nevertheless he craned his neck and gazed at the blue vault overhead.The two chums, off duty, were standing aft. Close to them Messrs.Tarrant and Miles were engaged in a heated argument over the meritsand demerits of the products of a certain firm of tabloid drugmanufacturers. Colonel and Mrs. Vivian were seated in canopieddeck-chairs under the lee of one of the deck-houses. Captain Blairand the Chief Engineer were pacing to and fro on the starboard sideof the deck, earnestly discussing a technical point in connectionwith the distilling plant. Hilda Vivian happened to be "listening in"in the wireless cabin, hearing vague sounds which Peter Mostynassured her were time signals from a shore station on the Californiancoast.
"What's that," sang out Tarrant, overhearing the Third Officer'sremark. "Aeroplane--what?"
Presently at least a dozen pairs of eyes were scanning the sky, butwithout success.
"Can you hear it now?" asked Burgoyne.
"No, I can't," replied Branscombe bluntly, "but I swear I did justnow."
"Would it be the dynamos you heard?" inquired Angus.
"No; aerial motor," declared the Fourth Officer firmly. "In fact," headded, "I believe I can hear it now."
"Ye maun hae a guid pair o' lugs," observed Angus caustically.
Branscombe said nothing more, but hurried on to the bridge. Aninquiry of the Fifth Officer and the two quartermasters resulted in anegative reply. Nothing had been seen or heard of an aircraft of anydescription.
"Good job I didn't bet on it," remarked Philip, when he returned andreported the result of his inquiries. "But no one can prove I didn'thear it," he added, with a marked reluctance to admit defeat.
"I certainly heard a buzz right overhead," announced Colonel Vivian."I rather pride myself on my hearing, but I'm hanged if I sawanything. Besides, if there were a seaplane so far out from land,wouldn't it have come down to within a few hundred feet and had alook at us?"
"I haven't seen an aeroplane for months," said Withers plaintively."At one time, when I was running from Southampton to Cherbourg andHavre during the war, the sky was stiff with 'em. Hardly everbothered to look up at the things. Now they're becoming noveltiesagain. It would seem like old times to see a Handley-Page again."
Meanwhile Mostyn was continuing to give practical lessons to HildaVivian.
"What an extraordinary noise," exclaimed the girl, removing thereceivers from her ears. "Much fainter than before."
Mostyn took up the ear-pieces. There was a call, but in a differentwave-length. He was "standing-by" on the 600-metre wave. Rapidlyadjusting the "Billi" condenser he failed to attain the desiredresult. Apparently the sending-out apparatus was of a totallydifferent tune. That discovery puzzled him, since almost every shipand station keeps within the narrow limit of the 600-metre wave.Disconnecting the pin of the receiving-gear, and placing thejigger-switch on the first stop, he connected up the short-waveearth terminal. The sounds were of greater intensity but still fellshort of the desired result. Deftly Mostyn manipulated therack-and-pinion gear of the "Billi" until the signal becamecoherent.
Unconscious now of the girl's presence, Mostyn grasped a pencil andalmost mechanically wrote the message that came through etherealspace. To her it conveyed nothing, being apparently a meaninglessjumble of letters.
"SK--finished," announced Mostyn, then, again aware of Miss Vivian'spresence, he continued. "Code message--they often send it in thatform. I'll decode it straight away."
He tried with every code-book at his command, but without success.None of the recognized books afforded a clue. It might be justpossible that Captain Blair would have a key in his possession.
"Sail on the starboard bow!" hailed the look-out man, just as thewireless operator dispatched a messenger to the Old Man.
At the hail Hilda left the wireless-room and went to the rail. Fewships had been sighted during the last two or three days, and hercuriosity was aroused by the appearance of the stranger. Branscombe,who was standing near her, hastened to offer her a pair ofbinoculars, at the same time pointing to a small black object,surmounted by a blurr of smoke, on the horizon.
"What is the name of the ship?" asked the girl.
"Sorry, Miss Vivian," replied the Fourth Officer gravely, "but I'mnot a thought reader. She'll probably make her number when she passesus."
The _Donibristle_ was logging eleven and a half knots, and since thestranger was making eighteen or twenty it did not take long for thelatter to become clearly visible to the naked eye. She was a lightcruiser of about 4000 tons, with two funnels and two short masts.From the deck of the _Donibristle_ it was seen that she carried a gunfor'ard, and three on her starboard broadside, so it was safe toconclude that her principal armament consisted of eight 4- or 6-inchweapons. Right aft, and visible only when the superstructure nolonger screened it, flew the White Ensign.
"What is she?" inquired Colonel Vivian.
"I can't tell yet," replied Captain Blair, who, having finished hisconversation with the Chief, was making his way to the bridge withMostyn's "chit" in his hand. "I don't even know her class. The navy'sdeveloped so many weird and hybrid types during the war, that itwould puzzle Solomon to know t' other from which. Had them all at myfinger-ends at one time. S'pose you don't recognize yonder cruiser,Mr. Burgoyne?"
"No, sir," replied the Third Officer, lowering his binoculars. "Shehasn't even her name painted on her lifebuoys. Hello! Her buntingtossers are busy."
From the cruiser's bridge the International E.C. fluttered up to thesignal yard-arm.
"That means 'What ship is that?'," explained Branscombe to Hilda.They had now crossed to where Colonel Vivian, Burgoyne, and severalof the ship's officers off duty were standing.
"How interesting," muttered the girl. "What do we do now?"
"Make your number," replied Alwyn, loth to keep out of theconversation. "There it is: KSVT."
"That's not a number," objected Hilda.
"We call it a number," persisted the Third Officer. "Those four flagssignify that we are the S.S. _Donibristle_, 6200 tons, registered atNewcastle-on-Tyne. Now they are making the next hoist--ATVH. Thatmeans Vancouver, our port of departure, and--by Jove, there's theID."
Without waiting to give Hilda the interpretation of the two-flagsignal, Burgoyne made a dash for the bridge, followed by Branscombeas a good second. Yet it was quite apparent to Colonel Vivian, hisdaughter, and Mr. Tarrant, that there was something of extremegravity in that signal. Mrs. Vivian, being a little farther away, hadnot noticed the general exodus, while the remaining passenger--thedrug drummer--showed no interest in the appearance of the cruiser.
Almost every officer and man on the deck of the _Donibristle_ knewthe significance of the signal. They had not served in the OuterPatrol during the Great War, when the examination of neutralmerchantmen was an everyday occurrence, without learning tounderstand the peremptory command: "Heave-to instantly, or I willfire into you".
Such a mandate coming from a vessel flying the White Ensign was notto be treated with levity or contempt. Deeply puzzled, Captain Blairstepped to the engine-room telegraph and was about to ring for "Stop"when a startled voice--the First Officer's, although it was hardlyrecognizable--shouted:
"They're not bluejackets, sir; they're Chinks."
Just then the cruiser, which was bearing broad on the _Donibristle's_starboard beam, ported helm. Turning sixteen points, and moving halfas fast again as the merchantman, she rounded the latter's stern andsettled down on a parallel course at a distance of a cable's lengthon the _Donibristle's_
port side.
"Tell the operator to send out a general SOS call," ordered CaptainBlair hurriedly, "add 'attacked by pirate' and give our position."
He gave a quick glance in the direction of the cruiser. She had nowdrawn slightly ahead, so that she overlapped the _Donibristle_ byabout half her length. Meanwhile she had diminished speed until bothvessels were moving through the water at approximately the same rate.
Just then a man scrambled on to the cruiser's bridge-rail and held apair of hand signal-flags at the "preparatory". Then, without furtherpreamble he semaphored: "If you use wireless I sink you".
The Old Man bent his head and spoke through the engine-roomspeaking-tube.
"Mr. Angus," he said in level even tones, "can you give me an extratwo knots?"
Apparently the reply was favourable, for the skipper replaced thewhistle with a gesture of satisfaction.
"Get the passengers down below, Mr. Burgoyne," he added; "there'll besparks flying in half a shake. Heave-to, indeed. I'll show 'em how Iheave-to. Pass the word for the hands to take cover."
Alwyn hurried off the bridge. He had barely reached the foot of theladder when the pirate, aware that their commands with reference tothe wireless had been disobeyed, opened fire with one of the beam4-inch guns.
At that extremely short range it was almost an impossibility to misssuch an easy target. With a terrific crash the wireless cabin simplydisappeared, while fragments of the shell killed the Chief Officer onthe spot, severely wounded one of the quartermasters, and gashedCaptain Blair's forehead from his right eyebrow to his right temple.
The Old Man staggered, fell against the binnacle, and slid strugglingto the deck. Branscombe rushed to his aid, but before he could reachhim the skipper regained his feet. Half-blinded with blood, and dazedby the concussion, his one thought was the safety of his ship.
With a bound the Old Man sprang to the wheel, thrust the dumbfoundedhelmsman aside, and rapidly manipulated the steam steering-gear untilthe helm was hard-a-starboard. As he felt the ship answer he becameas cool and steady as a rock. Deliberately he "met" and steadied her,until her bows pointed almost at right angles to the pirate's beam.
It was an audacious manoeuvre. The iron-nerved, tough old skipper wasabout to ram his opponent and send the cruiser, with all her rascallycrew, to the bottom of the Pacific.