CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT

  Captain Abraham Prout, master and part owner of the topsail schooner_Myrtle_, of 120 tons burthen, came on deck on hearing the mate give theorder "All hands shorten sail!"

  It was six o'clock in the morning, still dark and very cold, for the_Myrtle_ was on the fortieth parallel of the Southern Hemisphere, andthe month being June it was mid-winter. There were flakes of snowflying about. For the last three days and nights it had either beensleeting, raining, or snowing, or else all three together; but the windwas fair, and there was every prospect of the schooner making a quickpassage from Albany to Hobart.

  "There's something behind this muck, Abe," remarked the mate, who, onthe strength of being the "Old Man's" brother-in-law, was on familiarterms with Captain Prout. "The old hooker won't carry her topsails withthe breeze a-freshenin'. Best be on the safe side, says I."

  "Quite right, Tom," agreed the skipper. "New topmasts cost a mort sighto' money in these hard times. Anything to report?"

  "Nothin'," replied the mate, laconically.

  He shook the frozen sleet from the rim of his sou'wester and turned toinform one of the crew, in polite language of the sea, that "he'd betterget a move on an' not stand there a-hanging on to the slack."

  "There's some tea a-goin', Tom," announced Captain Prout. "Nip belowan' get a mug to warm you up a bit."

  The mate fell in with the suggestion with alacrity. The skipper, havingseen the hands complete their task of "gettin' the tops'ls off her,"went aft to where the half-frozen helmsman was almost mechanicallytoying with the wheel.

  Through sheer force of habit Captain Prout peered into the feeblyilluminated compass-bowl. Even as he did so, there was a tremendouscrash.

  The _Myrtle_ trembled from truck to kelson, while from aloft a jumble ofsplintered spars, cordage, and canvas fell upon the deck like aminiature avalanche.

  Captain Prout's first impressions were those of pained surprise. Forthe moment he was firmly convinced that the schooner had piled herselfupon an uncharted rock, but the absence of any signs of the vesselpounding against a hard bottom reassured him on that point.

  Although in ignorance of what had occurred, the tough old skipper roseto the occasion.

  "Steady on your helm!" he shouted to the man at the wheel. "Don't lether fall off her course."

  The helmsman obeyed. It was no easy matter, since he was enveloped in afold of the mainsail and the _Myrtle_ was towing the main-topmast and aportion of the cross-trees alongside.

  Alarmed by the commotion, the "watch below"--two men and a boy--rushedon deck, while the mate, issuing from the after-cabin with a tinpannikin of tea still grasped in his hand, raised his voice in astrongly worded enquiry to know what had happened to the old hooker.

  "Get a light, Tom, an' we'll have a squint at the damage," shouted theOld Man. "One of you sound the well and see if she's making any. Dick,you just see if them sidelights are burning properly."

  The mate disappeared, to return with a hurricane lamp.

  "Jerusalem!" he exclaimed. "Ain't it a lash up?"

  The mainmast had been broken off five feet below the cross-trees, withthe result that the main and throat halliard blocks had gone with thebroken spars, while the mainsail, with the gaff and boom, had fallenacross the deck. The shroud halliards still held, and the wire shroudsthemselves trailed athwart both bulwarks. Apparently the foremast wasintact, since it was the main topmast stay that had parted under thestrain.

  This much Captain Prout saw, noted, and understood, but what puzzled himwas a telescoped object, looking very much like an exaggerated top-hat,that lay upon the deck between the mainmast fife-rail and the coaming ofthe main hatch.

  "Guess it's a meteorite," hazarded the mate.

  "Meteorite, my foot!" ejaculated Captain Prout, scornfully. "If't hadbeen, 'twould ha' gone slap bang through the old hooker, an' we'd havebeen in the ditch."

  "It's had a good try, anyway," rejoined the mate. "Half a dozen deckplanks stove in."

  He held the lantern close to the mysterious object.

  "Looks like a bloomin' bath," he continued, "and I'm hanged if thereisn't a whopping big bird in it. Rummiest birdcage I've ever set eyeson."

  The cause of the damage to the _Myrtle's_ top-hamper and deck planks wasZ64's observation basket. Instead of falling into the sea anddecorously sinking to the bottom, as von Sinzig had hoped, thecontrivance had struck the only vessel within a radius of a hundredmiles. With its head and neck driven completely through the aluminiumside of the basket was a large eagle. The huge bird had struck thesuspended basket such a tremendous blow that the impact had wrenchedaway the metal clips securing it to the bottle-screws.

  "Standin' an' looking at the blessed thing won't clear away thisraffle," said the Old Man with asperity. "Set to, all hands. Secureand belay all you can and cut the rest adrift."

  "Heave this lot overboard, Abe?" questioned the mate, kicking the basketwith his sea-boot.

  "Best let 'un stop awhile," decided the skipper. "Pass a lashing roundit. Be sharp with that topmast, or it'll stove us in."

  Quickly the mate and a couple of hands cut away the rigging that heldthe topmast alongside. The heavy spar, which had been bumping heavilyagainst the side, fell clear. The _Myrtle_, no longer impeded by thetrailing wreckage, forged rapidly through the water, although she wasnow carrying foresail, staysail, and outer jib only.

  By this time day had broken. The snow had ceased falling, and rightahead the pale sun shone in a grey, misty sky.

  The crew, having made all ship-shape as far as lay in their power, werecuriously regarding the cause of the catastrophe. They rather lookedupon it as a diversion to break the monotony.

  "There's a log of sorts, sir," exclaimed one of the men, fumbling withthe leather straps that secured the unused petrol bomb. The missile hadbeen badly dented, but luckily the safety cap was intact. Had it notbeen so, the bomb would have ignited on impact, and the _Myrtle_, hersnow-swept deck notwithstanding, would soon have been enveloped inflames from stem to stern.

  "Don't fool around with it, Ted," said another of the crew, who, anR.N.R. man, had seen life and death in the Great War. "It's a bomb."

  "Well," observed Captain Prout, "that's more'n I bargained for. I'vetaken my chances with floating mines, but it's coming too much of a goodthing when these airmen blokes start chucking bombs haphazard-like."

  "Best pitch the thing overboard," suggested the mate.

  "No," objected the Old Man. "If we do, we've no evidence. Someone'sgot to pay for this lash up. Government broad arrow on the thing, too.That fixes it. When we make Hobart I'll raise Cain or my name's notAbraham Prout."

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels