THE GALAPAGOS FISHERMEN.
IN spite of the drastic reduction in length, and the fact that the
motors in the bow section were still disabled, the "Meteor" was able
to maintain a respectable speed of ninety miles an hour. Owing to her
comparatively small midship-section she offered less resistance to
the wind than do the standard types of British dirigibles.
Apart from the restriction in crew and store space the only
disadvantage of the reduced "Meteor" was the fact that she yawed
considerably. Formerly she was "drawn" by the for'ard propellers and
"pushed" by the after ones, but now the tractors were out of action
the whole of the driving effort was aft. Consequently the motion was
rather erratic, the greatest inconvenience being experienced by those
of the crew stationed in the bow division.
"You there, Callaghan?" asked the Captain at the telephone
communicating with the new wireless room; for previous to abandoning
the two midship compartments the wireless operator had transferred
his delicate apparatus to a cabin immediately abaft the for'ard
motor-room on the starboard side.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Irishman.
"Call up the 'Repulse,' will you, and ask the Admiral if he can
conveniently detach a light cruiser. Tell him we are still in pursuit
of Durango, who is on board a tramp, nationality unknown. Our present
position is 1° 45' 20" N. lat., and 86° 2' 10" W. long.,
approximate."
"That ought to settle the business," continued Vaughan Whittinghame,
turning to his comrades in the observation room. "I hardly like the
responsibility of compelling a strange vessel to heave-to: it might
lead to awkward international complications; besides, it would be a
difficult matter for us to board her, even if her skipper offered no
objections."
"Let's hope the Admiral will be willing to detach a cruiser," added
the doctor. "There is no reason why he should not, as far as I can
see, since things have quieted down in Valderia. It reminds me----"
Dr. Hambrough's reminiscences were interrupted by the wireless man
entering the observation room.
"What's amiss now, Callaghan?" asked the Captain, who could read bad
news on the Irishman's face.
"Something wrong, sir," replied the operator. "I can't call up the
flagship, nor any other ship or station, if it comes to that. I was
very particular, sir, when I transferred the gear----"
"When was it last used?" asked Vaughan.
"At seven o'clock last Tuesday, sir."
"That was before the storm. I shouldn't wonder if the same electrical
disturbance that crippled our motors has not played the wireless a
nasty trick. Any way, Callaghan, see what you can do, Unfortunately,
we have not Monsieur de la Fosse with us."
The Irishman backed out of the cabin.
"Must make the best of a bad job," continued the Captain without
visible signs of annoyance at the latest misfortune. "At any rate, we
shall have to use discretion when we tackle the business with the
tramp. What course do you suggest, Mr. Dacres?"
"I think we ought to wait until we overhaul the vessel, sir; then,
when he have discovered her nationality, we can act accordingly. It's
a seventy-five per cent chance that she's either a British or a
Yankee."
"But, surely, if she were," demurred Setchell, "that rascal wouldn't
have the cheek to be taken on board?"
"You must remember Durango is as full of resource as a Christmas
turkey is full of stuffing," replied Dacres. "He's had the cheek to
pose as an Englishman--an Englishman, mind you!--more than once. It's
pretty certain, if the tramp sails under a red ensign, that Durango
has bluffed her 'old man.' Bluffing, as a fine art, is a valuable
asset."
The "Meteor" was now heading N.E. by N., at less than five hundred
feet above the sea. She was passing over a number of small sailing
craft that reminded the sub of a scene off the Dogger.
"They are principally engaged in carrying turtles from the Galapagos
to Panama," remarked Gerald. "Recently there's been a big demand for
turtles, and the industry has revived. It's strange that most of the
export trade should be carried on in craft like those; yet one rarely
hears of any of them coming to grief."
"I hope that Durango hasn't been put on board one of them!" suggested
the irresponsible Setchell.
"Don't say that," expostulated Dacres.
"Mr. Setchell has named a possibility," added Captain Whittinghame.
"The thought never occurred to me. If, when we overhaul the tramp, we
are satisfied that Durango is not on board we can return and make
investigations amongst the turtle fleet. It will be a week or more
before they fetch Panama."
By this time a stiff south-easterly breeze had sprung up, so that the
drift of the airship was considerable. In less than an hour it had
developed into half a gale.
"That's the worst of this part of the globe," remarked Dacres. "In
the Doldrums it is either a flat calm or blowing hard enough to carry
away one's sticks. There are no half measures."
"Sail in sight, sir," announced one of the look-out men. "Dead
ahead."
"It's one of those Galapagos boats," declared Captain Whittinghame,
after making a careful scrutiny through his binoculars. "Poor brute!
she's tried to steal a march on the rest of the fleet and has run
into this gale of wind."
"She's got it well on her starboard quarter, though," said Setchell.
"She's almost running free."
"The worst direction for a craft of that build," added Gerald. "Look,
there goes her canvas, ripped to ribbons."
The turtle boat--she was barely thirty feet overall and entirely
open--was now at the mercy of the waves. Wallowing sluggishly in the
trough of the huge crested seas she was in momentary danger of being
swamped.
Captain Whittinghame was not long in making up his mind. He quickly
weighed the difficulties: the "Meteor" unable to manoeuvre so easily
as before; the practically crippled motors; the urgency of the quest,
all flashed through his brain. On the other hand, human life was in
danger.
As quickly as possible the "Meteor" was brought head to wind and
about half a mile to leeward of the dismasted craft. With the
propellers running ahead just sufficiently for him to counteract the
force of the wind the airship rolled and pitched like a barrel.
"Clear away a coil of three-inch manila," ordered Vaughan
Whittinghame. "Stand by to veer out a buoy."
Several of the crew of the "Meteor" hastened to carry out their
captain's orders and, in spite of the howling wind, they succeeded in
getting the necessary gear on the upper deck.
The men in the turtle boat, seeing that help was at hand, were waving
their arms frantically.
"Pity those fellows didn't make use of their energy in cutting away
that raffle and riding to it," remarked Dacres. "What will happen
when we forge ahead with that craft in tow, sir?"
"We'll lie steadier than we are at present," replied the captain.
"All the same, we'll approach her stern-foremost. It will give the
propellers a better chance."
Round swung the "Meteor," dropping half a mile to leeward during the
operation, but as soon as she made towards the crippled boat the new
conditions suited her admirably. Instead of rolling she settled down
to a steady undulating motion.
"Pay out the rope," ordered Captain Whittinghame.
The airship was now only two hundred feet above the raging sea. As
soon as the whole coil, one hundred and thirteen fathoms in length,
was paid out and allowed to trail in the water, she forged ahead
immediately over the disabled craft.
Dexterously one of the crew of the latter caught the trailing rope
and made it fast round the stump of the foremast. Just then a
tremendous broken sea was observed to be bearing down upon the
already sluggish vessel.
The three men who formed the crew saw it coming. The master attempted
to put the helm down, but the craft had not yet gathered way. A shout
of terror, barely audible above the roar of the wind and water, arose
from the men; the two who were for'ard deftly fastened themselves to
the slack of the rope trailing from the "Meteor." The helmsman,
seeing what they were about, promptly abandoned the tiller, ran to
the bows, and cast off the tow-rope. Even as he did so the huge wave
surged down upon the doomed craft and swept completely over her. She
sank like a stone.
"Take a couple of turns round the capstan," shouted Dacres, who saw
what had occurred; then thrusting the starting lever hard down he
bade one of the crew stand by while he himself went to the guard-rail
to direct operations.
Fortunately the master of the lost craft was a man of powerful
physique and held on to the rope like grim death. His two companions,
being lashed on, were in no actual danger, but could the master
retain his hold sufficiently long to enable him to be hauled into
safety?
Whittinghame had now ordered the motors to be switched off, and the
"Meteor," scudding before the gale, no longer dragged the three men
against the hard wind. Foot by foot the three-inch manila came home.
It had to be stopped while the first of the rescued men was assisted
over the bulging side of the airship, and again when the second was
hauled into safety.
Dacres, keenly on the alert, saw that the master's strength was
ebbing. Quickly bending a stout rope round his waist and calling to
three of the crew to take a turn, he leapt over the guard-rail, slid
down the convex slope and grasped the wellnigh exhausted master by
his wrists.
Forty seconds later the sub and the man he had risked his life to
save were standing almost breathless upon the upper deck of the
airship.
"Take them below," ordered Dacres, "coil away this rope and make all
snug, then clear upper deck."
Directly this was done the "Meteor" forged ahead and quickly settled
down to her former pace.
As soon as the rescued men had been supplied with food and drink
General Whittinghame asked them whether any steamer had passed them.
To this the master replied that one had, about four hours previously.
His description of her left no doubt but that she was the craft which
had picked up Durango and his companions from the waterlogged
flying-boat.
"Do you know her name?" asked his questioner.
"No, señor, I do not. Do you, Enrico?"
The man addressed shook his head. Neither could his companion give a
satisfactory answer. He remembered that it began with Q, and that the
name of the port she belonged to was Boston.
"Good!" ejaculated Captain Whittinghame when, his brother had
interpreted the information. "She's a Yankee. I don't suppose we
shall have much trouble now. Four hours ago, eh? Allowing her eight
knots at the very outside with this sea running we ought to overhaul
her in less than half an hour. Tell those fellows not to worry. We
will pay them well for the information and put them ashore at Panama,
or else the first vessel we speak that will serve their purpose."
Vaughan had not over-estimated the time taken to overhaul the Boston
tramp. Eighteen minutes after resuming the chase the look-out
reported a column of smoke rising above the horizon. Four minutes
later the sought-for vessel was plainly visible.
On her short rounded counter appeared the words "Quickstep, of
Boston, Mass."
Being high in ballast she was rolling furiously. Cascades of water
were pouring from her scuppers. Spray was flying in sheets over her
bows and dashing against the wheel-house on the bridge, for owing to
a sudden change of wind she was plugging almost dead into the teeth
of the gale.
"It is impossible to communicate with her with this sea running,"
remarked Captain Whittinghame. "All we can do is to slow down and
wait until the gale moderates."
As he spoke an oilskinned figure was observed to stagger out of the
wheel-house and make his way to the starboard side of the bridge.
Casting off the halliards leading to a block on a shroud between the
two stumpy masts he hoisted a signal.
Owing to the direction of the wind it was for the time being
impossible to read the flags, and it was not until the 'Meteor'
forged ahead and was almost abeam of the tramp that Dacres could
interpret the message.
"I--F--that's something to do with communicate," he announced.
"Where's the code-book?"
"Here you are," replied Setchell rapidly turning over the pages.
"'I--F: I cannot stop to have any communication.' Like his
impudence!"
"Or Durango's," added Whittinghame. "We cannot acknowledge, so we
will mark time on the 'Quickstep.' How's the glass, Mr. Dacres?"
"Steady, sir, with a slight tendency to rise. This gale will soon
blow itself out."
"Then the sooner the better," declared the Captain.
The rest of the day passed in tedious inaction Night fell, and the
bow searchlights of the airship played incessantly upon the tramp.
Day dawned and found, as Dacres had predicted, that the gale had
expended itself, and although the seas still ran high, the angry
waves were rapidly subsiding.
It was now safe for the "Meteor" to approach within hand-signalling
distance. The officers and crew of the "Quickstep" were all on deck,
curiously regarding the airship, but there were no signs of Durango
and the two Valderians.
"What airship is that?" came from the tramp.
"The 'Meteor.'"
"We doubt it."
"But we are; if you'll heave-to and send a boat we will prove it."
"What do you want?"
"You have three men on board, rescued from a water-logged boat."
"What of it?"
"One is the outlaw, Durango."
"I guess not."
"You guess wrongly, then. Durango and two Valderians."
"Sure? He said he was a Britisher."
"We'll soon prove it if you send a boat."
"I will. We'll heave-to."
Captain Whittinghame slapped his brother on the back.
"At last!" he exclaimed.