CHAPTER XXVII.
A PILOT UNDER COMPULSION.
Dawn was just breaking as the "Pique" arrived on the scene of thedisaster. Her escape, of which her crew were totally in ignorance, wasowing solely to the fact that Karl von Harburg had fired his lasttorpedo at the ill-fated "Topaze." His means of offence were nowreduced, for the power of being able to deliver his antagonist asmashing blow below the surface was no longer possible: he could onlyram. Yet the captain of the "Vorwartz" hesitated to attempt to dealthus with the "Pique." The British cruiser had passed within twocables' length of where the modern buccaneer was running beneath thesurface; but the risks to himself by ramming a large armoured vesseltravelling at thirty knots were far too great.
Seeing that he could render no further assistance Captain Restronguetordered the "Aphrodite" to be submerged. It was the safest plan, foralthough he communicated with the "Pique" by wireless, the message wasnot in code, and the British cruiser, determined to take no risks, mightopen fire at the submarine.
The position of the "Vorwartz" was now, according to the detector, fortymiles S.W. of her pursuer. When Captain Restronguet came to fix herposition on the chart he knitted his brows in perplexity. The rivalsubmarine was, if his information was correct, actually within the deltaof the great Zambezi River.
"Now we have her!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet gleefully. "It will bea bit of a shock to Von Harburg when he finds that his return journey isbarred by the only craft he feared and one that he thought he haddestroyed."
"Do you think he's heard that the 'Aphrodite' was not smashed up afterall?" asked Hythe.
"It is doubtful. If he has I can only conjecture that he has decided toascend the Zambezi in the hope of eluding us. Otherwise I cannotsuggest any reason unless he wishes to form a base in this unhealthyPortuguese territory since his Sumatran refuge is closed to him."
"I have heard that the district is reeking with fever, sir," remarkedthe sub. "Many times men-of-war have sent exploring parties up theriver and almost invariably some, and once every man, of the crew havebeen stricken down. The Portuguese have, apparently, taken no activesteps to rid the locality of the mosquitoes. If the deadly climatecould be rendered habitable, as in the case of the Canal Zone at Panama,the Zambezi would be one of the greatest trading arteries of the world."
"Some day it will," said Captain Restronguet. "The British Governmenthas had its eye upon Portuguese East Africa for some time. Could thePortuguese Republic be induced to sell it there would be a splendidoutlet for Rhodesia, and under active management the Zambezi would makea splendid waterway. Even now it is navigable as far as KebrabassaFalls, nearly three hundred miles from the delta."
"It strikes me, sir, that we shall be grilling in a fetid atmospherebefore many hours are past," observed Devoran. "Why couldn't Karl vonHarburg stick to the sea?"
"There's nothing like variety," replied Captain Restronguetcomplacently. "After we've settled with the 'Vorwartz' we may have alittle shooting; lions and rhinos are fairly plentiful, to say nothingof smaller fry. But I do not think we need entertain fears of theclimate. It is only at night that the pestilential mists are reallydangerous. Every day just before sunset, we will submerge the'Aphrodite,' since there is reason to suppose there are deep holes inthe bed of the river for this to be done even if the normal depth isinsufficient. We shall not thus be inhaling the noxious gases, nor beexposed to the attacks of mosquitoes and other germ-bearing insects;whilst river-water passed through our condensers will be perfectlydrinkable."
According to the rosy views held by the captain of the "Aphrodite" thenew phase of the cruise was to be a sort of picnic; but he had reckonedwithout his host.
On arriving off the First Bluff Point, on the western side of the mainoutlet of the Zambezi, it was found that there was such a heavy tumbleon the bar that to attempt to cross it would be an impossible task.
The detector showed that the "Vorwartz" was maintaining her distance;evidently she was in luck, and had negotiated the difficult entrance inthe nick of time.
For twenty-eight days the "Aphrodite" lay in sight of the clump of high,straight trees, that lay very close together, giving the point theappearance of a cliff, to which the name of First Bluff Point owes itsorigin.
Meanwhile the news of the great disaster to H.M.S. "Topaze" had beensent by wireless to Cape Town by the captain of the "Pique," and in avery short space of time the Admiralty were in possession of the salientfacts of the latest outrage by Karl von Harburg. There was a panicamongst the merchantmen in East African waters; the scanty harbours ofthat coast were filled with ships whose skippers feared to put to sea.Even the mail-boats took particular care to give the supposedcruising-ground of the "Vorwartz" a wide berth; while the liners runningbetween London and Liverpool and Australia and New Zealand abandoned theCape route and stuck to that via Cape Horn.
People began to ask what was the use of having command of the sea whenone solitary submarine could do practically what it liked beneath thesurface. Vast sums had been spent to keep the British navy in a stateof efficiency and numerical supremacy; money had been poured out likewater to provide defence against hostile aircraft that might menace ourshores; yet one submarine--not a new invention, but merely a greatimprovement on existing types--was playing a one-sided game not onlywith British shipping, but with the mercantile marine of the whole ofthe nautical world. And now even warships were being sent to the bottomwithout so much as a glimpse of the attacker.
In the midst of this gloomy outlook came a consoling gleam of light.The "Aphrodite" was now known to have survived the attack made upon herby her rival; and to Captain Restronguet the entire civilized worldpinned its faith.
Although Captain the Hon. C. L. Sedgwyke had refused to make any publicstatement concerning the disaster to his ship until the impending courtmartial took place, he telegraphed a full report to the Admiralty. Itwas the plain, unvarnished story of a brave yet unfortunate Britishofficer. He laid particular emphasis upon the fact that CaptainRestronguet was in the "Aphrodite," ready and willing to grapple withthe modern buccaneer, but only at earnest solicitation of the captain ofthe "Topaze" did he stand passively aloof in order to give the Britishcruiser a chance to distinguish herself.
Britons are generally supposed to be a phlegmatic race, but when theyhave an attack of hero-worship they get it pretty badly. Captain JohnRestronguet was the hero of the day. A photograph that an amateurphotographer on the "Persia" took of him during the "Aphrodite's"passage through the Red Sea appeared in all the papers, edition de luxecopies were sold by hundreds of thousands, and the firm who bought thecopyright for one guinea made nearly L30,000 out of the transaction.Restronguet coats, hats, and boots were all the rage; in fact the nameRestronguet applied to any article ensured it a ready sale. The nationwas Restronguet mad.
But the captain of the "Aphrodite" was not a man to have his head turnedby fatuous hero-worship. He knew perfectly well that in the course of afew years his name would be a mere byword. Reports of his popularityhad been transmitted to him by his agents. He merely shrugged hisshoulders, and impressed upon the wireless operator who received themessages to maintain a strict reticence as to their nature. He had amission to perform, and he meant to accomplish it. Thus, withill-concealed impatience he waited and waited till, with his crew, hebecame heartily sick of the sight of First Bluff Point and theforbidding bar of the mighty Zambezi.
On the morning of the twenty-ninth day of the "Aphrodite's" detention anative boat, manned by half a dozen blacks, was observed to have managedto cross the bar and was bearing down towards the vessel. In the sternwas a European, a sallow-faced man dressed in dirty white clothes and abroad sun-hat.
As soon as the boat came alongside the bowman dexterously threw a rope,and when this was made fast the white man, without waiting for anaccommodation ladder to be shipped, swarmed up on deck.
"Me pilot," he explained, with a deep bow and a flour
ish of his hat."Me pilot 'pointed by Republic. Me take you in."
"Is it safe to cross the bar?" asked Captain Restronguet eagerly.
"Yes, senhor; me take you in for so many milreis," and he held up thefingers of both hands four times.
It was a matter of nearly nine pounds--thrice the amount the Portugueseexpected to receive. It was part of his nature to make allowances forbeing beaten down.
"I'll make it gold to the value of eighty milreis if you put me insidethe bar to-night," said Captain Restronguet.
"Me take you up to Marromea--that am de port--for dat," exclaimed thepilot gleefully. "How much you draw?"
"Twelve feet," replied Captain Restronguet.
The Portuguese had no need to make a calculation to arrive at the depthin "bracas," since the British fathom is almost identical with thePortuguese "braca."
"Too ver' much," he exclaimed, shaking his head.
"I can reduce it to seven feet."
"How can do? You no throw cargo oberboard?" asked the astonishedPortuguese.
Without replying, Captain Restronguet gave an order for the emergencytanks to be emptied, and still greater was the pilot's amazement to findthe vessel rising higher and higher out of the water.
Suddenly it occurred to his slow-witted brain that the craft he hadboarded was a submarine, and since the only submarine he had heard ofwas the "Vorwartz," that had made the passage under cover of night, hecame to the startling conclusion that he had boarded the pirate vessel.His olivine features turned a sickly yellow till there was hardly anycontrast between his face and the whites of his eyes, and turning, hemade a rush for the side.
"Steady, my worthy friend!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet, as Devoranand Kenwyn caught the Portuguese by the shoulders. "A contract is acontract. You've got to pilot my vessel over the bar."
"Mercy, senhor!" whined the fellow falling on his knees.
"Get up, you idiot!" said Captain Restronguet sharply, but all to nopurpose; the pilot maintained his entreaties at the top of his voice.
"I believe he imagines he's on board the 'Vorwartz'," suggested Hythe.
"Perhaps," agreed the captain, then addressing the pilot he told himthat he was in no danger, and that he was on the "Aphrodite."
But the man was so terrified that the words fell on deaf ears. Histerror was increased by a sudden commotion over the side as his nativecrew, hearing the cries of their master, took their paddles and made offfor the shore as hard as they could urge their cumbersome craft.
At last Captain Restronguet became out of patience with the cravenpilot. At a sign from him Devoran whisked the Portuguese to his feetand led him for'ard. Here he again collapsed, grovelling on the deck.It was now nearly high water, and unless something were done anotherdelay of twelve hours at least--possibly of days--would necessarilyensue.
Drawing his automatic pistol he clapped the muzzle to the pilot'stemple. The touch of cold steel did what words had failed to do.Abject terror was banished by the stern menace of that small yetpowerful weapon.
"No shoot, senhor capitan!" howled the wretched man. "Me take you ober:no shoot."
Captain Restronguet replaced his pistol, the pilot, still shaking, stoodin front of the helmsman in the fore-conning-tower and directed him bymovements of his hand. Four minutes sufficed to bring the "Aphrodite,"rolling like a barrel, through the agitated water on the bar, and thusafter nearly a month of inaction the avenging submarine floated in theturgid waters of the broad Zambezi.