CHAPTER III
THE CASTAWAYS
Very small and pitiful appeared the tiny speck bobbing up and downupon that wide expanse of restless sea in the faint morning light. Butrapidly it took on form as the destroyer slid hissing through thesparkling water toward it. Through their glasses the boys could seethat it was a ship's lifeboat filled with men and that one of theoccupants was standing up and wildly waving a bit of cloth fastened toan oar.
"I'll say they're mighty glad to see us!" exclaimed Rawlins. "Bygravy, it makes me think of war times again! Confound those sneakingBolsheviks, they're as bad as the Huns."
"Worse," declared Mr. Pauling tersely. "The Germans had the excuse ofwar and these rascals are merely cutthroats. I wonder if this boat'sthe only one that escaped."
"We'll know in a moment," said Mr. Henderson. "Lucky we foundthem--there wasn't one chance in a million. Things like this make themost skeptical believe in the Almighty."
"And the fact that that bunch on the sub get away with it makes afellow believe in Satan as well," supplemented the diver.
A moment later the destroyer's engines ceased to throb; she slippedgently through the waves, and presently was resting motionless, risingand falling, while the ocean castaways bent to the oars and pulledaround in her lee.
Then a coil of line spun from the hands of a waiting bluejacket, theman in the bow of the lifeboat caught it and the next instant thehaggard-faced occupants of the little craft were being helped over thedestroyer's rail.
There were twenty-two in all--a motley, cosmopolitan lot, the typicalcrew of a modern steamship. Tow-headed, broad-faced Scandinavians;sallow, black-haired, blue-cheeked Spaniards, whose greasy trousersand grimy faces marked them as wipers, firemen and engine room crew; afew swarthy Italians; one or two who might have been of almost anynationality; two colored men; and a broad-shouldered, ruddy-facedindividual with keen, pale blue eyes who was evidently in command.
"Strike me pink, but we're lucky beggars!" exclaimed the latter, as heleaped on to the destroyer's deck.
"Are you the captain?" asked Commander Disbrow. "Glad to have savedyou. We got your radio yesterday morning, but had little chance offinding you. More luck than anything else. All your crew accountedfor?"
The Englishman drew himself up and saluted in true naval style. "No,Sir," he exclaimed. "I'm the chief officer, ship _Devonshire_,Liverpool for Trinidad and Demerara. Captain Masters lost 'is life,Sir--defending 'is ship, Sir."
"Brave man!" exclaimed Mr. Pauling. "Went down with his ship, Isuppose."
The Englishman turned and looked at him in surprise. "Whatever do youmean, Sir?" he exclaimed. "Bless us, the ship wasn't sunk, Sir.Captain Masters was shot down on his bridge, Sir."
"The ship wasn't sunk!" cried Mr. Pauling. "Then why are you adrift ina small boat and why did you send an S. O. S. and what _did_occur? Come, let's get this matter straightened out at once!"
"The ship was took, Sir. Made a prize of by the bloodysubmarine--begging your pardon for the word, Sir. It was this way,Sir. The dirty beggars never gave us arf a chance--played a dirty Huntrick on us, the swine! You see, Sir, we sighted a drifting boat fullof men and bore down and took them abroad, Sir, and no sooner werethey over the rail than they whips out their revolvers and orders our'ands up. Blow me for a bloomin' fish if we wasn't took that bysurprise, Sir, that we does it, Sir. All but the Captain and 'Sparks.'They were looking on--you know all hands always crowds the rails tosee what's going on when a boat's picked up, Sir--and it was all overin a minute. No sooner had they stuck us up than the bloomin' sub bobsup. With that we was all aback and that dazed, with the suddenness ofit and the sub and all, that we don't rightly know what to make of it,Sir. And then 'Sparks' makes a dash for his room and Captain Mastersfires at the dirty swine just as one of them jumps after 'Sparks.' Isee, poor 'Sparks' stagger and lurch into his door and the bloomin'beggar what shot him drops and the next second there's a rifle shotfrom the sub and Captain Masters springs up and pitches into the sea,Sir. You say you got a radio from the ship, Sir? Then 'Sparks' must'ave got it off before he died, Sir."
"Yes, yes!" cried Mr. Pauling. "That accounts for the message endinghalf finished; but go on, what happened after the captain and theoperator were shot?"
"Why, the blinkin' bloomin' devils just lined us up and ordered usinto a boat and sent a crew abroad the _Devonshire_ from the sub.And just afore they steamed off an left us, Sir, strike me purple hifa bloomin' airplane didn't show up! Blow me, but I thought we wassaved, Sir. But instead of savin' of us the blighted plane parses usby and goes along of the ship, Sir, and there we was adrift in an openboat with only a gallon of water and no provisions and no compass anda makin' up our minds to face death and old Davy Jones like properBritish sea-man--though only five of us was British--when we sightsyour little ship, Sir."
"What course did they steer?" snapped out Commander Disbrow.
"About south by east--as near as I could judge by the sun, Sir,"replied the officer.
The next instant, sharp, quick orders had been given, and, as if shotfrom a bow, the destroyer leaped into sudden speed and surged throughthe sea towards the south.
Then, as the rescued men were half starved and worn out, the questionswhich Mr. Pauling and his friends were so anxious to ask were put offuntil the latest victims of the dastardly "reds" could be fed andrested.
Twenty-four hours in an open boat, (twelve of them under a blazingtropical sun), without food and with but a gallon of water fortwenty-two men, might kill the average landsmen, but the survivors ofthe _Devonshire_ seemed to be affected very little by thehardships of their experience and declared that a hearty meal and afew hours' rest were all they needed to make them "perfectly fit" asRobinson, the chief-officer, put it.
While they were resting, Mr. Pauling and his companions were busilydiscussing this latest exploit of the men they were trying to run downand by deduction and reasoning were striving to fathom the "reds"object in taking possession of the _Devonshire_ as well as theirnext moves.
"My opinion is that they are making for some port in order to escapeunsuspected," declared Mr. Henderson. "They had no refuge they couldreach in the submarine or seaplane when they found us hot on theirtrail and approaching Aves. But by steaming boldly into port with afreight steamer, they could then desert and scatter without arousingsuspicions until they had disappeared."
"That's my idea also," affirmed Mr. Pauling. "But I'm at a loss tounderstand why they should continue to use the plane. If that appearedat any port, it would at once attract attention. I should haveimagined that they would have sunk it or destroyed it and would allhave taken to the _Devonshire_."
"Perhaps they did--later," suggested Mr. Henderson, "but they cannotescape us. They have only twenty-four hours' start, we can make twicethe freighter's speed, and the nearest port is a good thirty-six orforty hours' run in the direction they steamed."
"Yes, but don't count on their keeping that course," said Rawlins."They're foxy guys and they may have steered south by east just tofool those boys in the boat. As soon as hull down they may have swungto east or west--or even turned on their tracks and headed north.Darned funny they were decent enough not to murder the whole crew. Andmy idea about the plane is that they're using her for a scout to warnthem of other ships. From a few thousand feet up, the pilot of theplane can spot a ship way below the horizon and the _Devonshire_can keep clear of 'em. Why, by glory! they could probably spot us andknow we're following them. I'll say we've got some job cut out for us,if we're going to try to run 'em down. And when it gets dark they canslip away, easy as is. Now I don't want to butt in all the time, butmy idea would be to fight them with their own weapons--play their owngame and fool 'em. If we shift our course as if we'd given up or wereon the wrong track and send out a few fake radio messages, they'llthink we've given up and they'll beat it for some port. Then, bytipping off the port authorities, they can nab the bunch when theyarrive."
"Hmm," muttered Mr. Pauling. "A very good plan, Rawlin
s, except forone or two flaws in it. For example, if we tip off the authorities,what is to prevent those on the _Devonshire_ from hearing themessages and acting accordingly? And if we don't know the coursethey're actually taking, how can we shift ours in such a way as tomake them feel sure we have abandoned the chase? Finally, how will weknow what port they intend entering? They might sail for Europe orAsia or the South Seas, for all we know."
"Well, you've stumped me on the first question, I admit," chuckled thediver. "That's your business Mr. Pauling--have to use some cipher Isuppose. But the others are easy. If we send radio messages to somenearby port that we're coming in--asking to have supplies or storesready, for instance--those Bolsheviks will bite all right. And as faras knowing what port they'll head for is concerned, if they thinkthey're not being chased they'll go to the port where there's theleast danger and that's where the ship's papers are made outfor--Trinidad or Demerara."
"By Jove! I don't know but what you're right," exclaimed Mr. Pauling."I think I can arrange the cipher messages--in fact, in confidence, Ican let you know that a code was all arranged long before we left St.Thomas. Every executive of every British and French colony down hereknows it. We had reasons for not giving it to the Dutch in view of thesuspicious actions of that Dutch tramp--and I'll guarantee if the_Devonshire_ puts into any British or French port, our piratical'reds' will find they've stepped into a trap that's set and baited."
By the time Robinson reappeared on deck, looking a very differentbeing from the haggard, dull-eyed seaman who had been rescued from the_Devonshire's_ boat, Mr. Pauling had conferred with CommanderDisbrow and plans had been made in accordance with Rawlins'suggestion. Robinson, when told of this, agreed with the diver thatdoubtless the "reds" intended sailing the _Devonshire_ boldlyinto some port and then slipping away, one at a time. He also declaredthat he believed they would steam for either Trinidad or Demerara, asthe ship's papers were made out for those ports. In order to consultwith him and secure his opinions, it was of course necessary toacquaint him somewhat with the activities of the fugitives, but heasked no questions and made no effort to learn more of Mr. Pauling'smission than the latter saw fit to divulge.
"Was the _Devonshire_ ever in Trinidad or Demerara, Mr.Robinson?" inquired Mr. Pauling. "That is, with Captain Masters andthe other officers in command?"
"Not as far as I know," replied the other. "I've been on her for threeyears and this is my first trip out here. She's always been in theEast Indian trade heretofore."
"Ah, then that makes it still easier for the rascals," commented Mr.Pauling. "They can readily pass themselves off for the ship'sofficers. By the way, can you describe the appearance of any of themen who boarded the ship?"
"Strike me, Sir, but I was too struck 'twixt wind and water to takenote of their appearance," declared the officer. "I do remember onewho appeared to be in command, however--a big chappie with a redbeard."
"That's the one!" cried Rawlins. "By glory, I'd like to get my handson him!"
"So would I, old thing," declared Robinson. "But why the bally pirateslet us free is a stumper for me. They might have known some ship mightpick us up and we'd give the bloomin' gaff away."
"Yes, that is a puzzle," agreed Mr. Henderson, "but I suppose even menof their type have a limit to the murders they commit."
It had been decided to make for Dominica, partly because it was thenearest British island and the survivors of the _Devonshire_could be cared for there, and partly because Mr. Pauling and Mr.Henderson were anxious to see and talk with the officials regardingthe looting of the bank, which had occurred some time before and whichthey believed had been done by the same gang of rascals they weretrailing.
By the middle of the afternoon land was sighted, an opalescent, hazymass topped by great banks of clouds and looking, as Tom expressed it,"more like a dream island than real land."
As the destroyer drew rapidly nearer and sky-piercing peaks, vast bluegorges, endless forest-clad mountains, and wonderful golden-greenvalleys appeared, it looked more and more like a dream or a phantasy,for the boys could hardly believe that anything real could be sobeautiful. Still it was far away and as the little warship slidsmoothly through the incredibly blue sea that showed scarcely a wavein the massive island's lee, the boys stood gazing steadfastly at thismost picturesque and lovely of all the lovely Caribbean islands.
"Gosh, but I'm glad we decided to come here!" exclaimed Frank asRawlins joined them at the rail. "When you told us back at Statia thatSt. Kitts couldn't compare with Dominica I thought you were justjoking, but gee, this is simply wonderful!"
"I'll say 'tis!" replied the diver. "Every time I see it I get a newthrill. And you'll find it mighty interesting, too. It was right offDominica that Rodney licked the French and changed the history of theWest Indies. There's a mountain lake in a crater and an active volcanocalled the Boiling Lake here and over on the other side there's anIndian settlement where the last pure-blooded Caribs in the WestIndies live."
"Oh, I do hope we stay long enough to see some of the place!" criedTom.
"Why couldn't we have been here instead of at St. Thomas or St. John?"
"Perhaps, if you'd radioed the skipper of the Dutch tramp or thered-bearded chap, they might have accommodated you and come here,"laughed Mr. Pauling who had approached. "But, joking aside, I'd liketo see more of Dominica myself. It's certainly a glorious sight."
"What do they raise here?" asked Mr. Henderson, who had also joinedthe group.
"Limes mostly," replied Rawlins. "The famous Rose lime juice all comesfrom Dominica. Father used to come here regularly for green limes andjuice. It's the biggest lime producing country in the world, I'veheard him say."
"Oh, I see the town!" cried Frank. "Right there at the mouth of thatbig valley!"
"Yes, that's Roseau," said Rawlins. "Not much of a town, but with amighty fine botanic station. And you'll find the natives interesting,too. Lots of them still wear the old creole dress and they all speak aqueer Frenchy sort of lingo called Patois."
"Why, I thought it was an English island," exclaimed Tom.
"So 'tis," the diver assured him. "But lots of the people don't speakEnglish. It's been French and British by turn and it's between twoFrench islands--Guadeloupe and Martinique--and the country people andmost of the town's people are more French than British."
The island was now in plain view and as the sun sank into the west,the great masses of clouds above the deep green mountains turnedslowly to gold and then to rosy pink; the vast gorges and ravines tookon shades of violet and deep purple; the sea appeared like a sheet ofamethyst, and as the destroyer slowly lost headway and her anchorplunged overboard, a magnificent rainbow sprang as if by magic frommountain side to mountain side, spanning the valley with amulticolored bridge.
Even before the destroyer's anchor had splashed into the sea and therattle and roar of her chains echoed from the hills, she wassurrounded by a flotilla of gayly painted small boats. Some wereordinary rowboats, but many were queer-looking little craft, like bigcanoes with projecting bows like the rams of old style warships andone and all were manned by pleasant-faced, brown-skinned natives whogabbled and chattered in a strange, utterly unintelligible jargon. Butbefore the boys had more than a glimpse of the boats and theiroccupants, they were forced to scurry under cover, as from a clear skyrain poured down in torrents, blotting out the distant mountains andveiling the near-by quay and town with a white curtain.
"Golly!" exclaimed Tom. "It's pouring cats and dogs and there wasn't acloud overhead."
Rawlins laughed. "That's Dominica all right!" he replied. "Rainiestspot in the world, I guess. My father used to say they measured therainfall here by yards and not by inches."
"But how can it rain when there are no clouds?" persisted Tom, to whomthis phenomenon was most mystifying.
"I think I can explain that," volunteered Commander Disbrow. "It's themoisture laden air from the Atlantic blowing across theseforest-covered mountains. The moisture is condensed and falls as rainbef
ore it has time to gather in a vapor and form clouds. I've seen thesame thing in the Azores."
But now the rain had ceased as abruptly as it had begun and presentlythe ship's cutter was in the water. Five minutes later the boysstepped ashore at the little stone and concrete pier.
While Mr. Pauling, Mr. Henderson and Commander Disbrow turned up thehill towards Government House, the two boys and Rawlins strolledthrough the quaint little town and entered the big botanic station.Never had Tom and Frank been so delighted or so enthusiastic over newand strange sights as in Roseau, for it was utterly unlike anythingthey had ever seen or imagined. The chattering colored women in theirlong, trailing, stiffly starched, gaudy dresses with brilliant silkfoulards or kerchiefs about their necks and their jaunty, rainbow-huedturbans gave a very foreign, out-of-the-world effect to the spot. Thenarrow cobbled streets, with the open ditches, filled with swiftlyflowing water; the French names over the shops and stores; and thewooden houses with outjutting balconies forming shelters for greatcasks of lime juice, trays of cacao beans, and diminutive nativeponies--all lent a most picturesque touch to the place. The boys evendeclared that the miserable huts with their walls made partly fromdiscarded kerosene tins and rusty corrugated iron and which were oddlysandwiched in between the good buildings only added to the attractionsof the little town.
But when they reached the gardens and strolled along the perfectlykept drives and walks between broad green lawns dotted with everyimaginable tropic shrub, palm, and flower, and wandered through darkavenues of clove, nutmeg and cinnamon trees, with the air heavy withthe mingled odors of orchids, jasmine and spices, they could not findwords to express their appreciation.
"Gee, a fellow could wander here for a week and not see it all!"declared Tom.
"And say, wouldn't it be just great to ride up that valley into themountains?" cried Frank. "Golly, it looks wild and interesting."
"It is," Rawlins assured him. "Maybe you'll have a chance to try it.You can go to the Mountain lake and back in a day and anyway you canclimb up Morne Bruce here to-morrow morning and have a fine view ofthe valley."
Reluctantly, the boys turned back and taking a different route throughthe town, reached the waiting boat. To the boys' intense delight,although their elders chafed at the delay, Mr. Pauling told them thathe planned to stay in Dominica to await expected news of the_Devonshire's_ arrival at Trinidad or Demerara and that he had noobjection to their proposed ride up the valley as it would beimpossible for the _Devonshire_ to reach port within the nexttwenty-four hours.
As a result, the enthusiastic boys could scarcely wait to eatbreakfast the next morning, but hurried ashore with Rawlins and foundthe ponies, which the diver had ordered through one of the nativeboatmen the night before, waiting for them.
Even their boyish imaginations had never prepared them for thebeauties, the constant surprises, the strangeness and the interests ofthat ride. They passed for miles beside the tumbling, roaring riverthrough endless lime orchards; they climbed steep grades that woundaround hillsides glorious with masses of brilliant flowers; they rodeunder arches of giant bamboos rising fifty feet above their heads, andas they mounted higher the way led through forests of stupendoustrees, enormous tree ferns, and tangled, cable-like lianas, where evenat midday, it was like twilight. Often the narrow road wound aroundthe verges of terrific precipices and, involuntarily, the boysshuddered and drew back as the sure-footed mountain ponies pickedtheir way so close to the brink that stones, dislodged by theirpassage, went crashing down to the dark forest a thousand feetbeneath. Sometimes too, they halted for brief rests and listened tothe flute-like songs of the "mountain whistler" or watched hummingbirds flashing like living gems among the flowers of orchids orbegonias.
Then at last they came out upon the topmost mountain ridge and as theheavy mist, which Rawlins told them was a cloud, drifted away, theylooked upon a vast sea of forest-covered mountains with a glimmeringlittle lake nestled among the verdure in a bowl-like crater at theirfeet. Here, above the clouds, they ate their lunch and, heedless ofthe drenching rain, returned down the mountains late in the afternoon.As they came out upon the waterfront, they saw smoke pouring from thefunnels of the destroyer.
"Holy mackerel!" exclaimed Rawlins. "They must have heard something.They've got steam up."
Scarcely had the three scrambled into the waiting cutter, when thelittle craft was speeding towards the destroyer and to Rawlins'questions the petty officer in command replied that the Commander wasonly awaiting their arrival before sailing.
No sooner had the cutter left the dock than the roar of the winchengines and the incoming cable told of the anchor coming in, andscarcely were the diver and the two boys over the little ship's sideand the cutter hooked to the davit falls before the destroyer wasforging ahead and making for the open sea.
"What's up?" cried Rawlins as he gained the deck. "Get a message?"
"Yes, an hour ago," replied Mr. Pauling. "Here it is."
The diver and the two boys glanced eagerly over the slip, and read:"_Devonshire_ and crew held according to request. May, InspectorPolice. Port of Spain."
"Hurrah!" cried the boys in unison. "They're caught!"
"I'll say they are!" exclaimed Rawlins. "Walked right into our trap!"