THE "MAD WARSHIP"
The manifesto had arrived simultaneously at every newspaper office in
London, Paris, and Berlin.
It was printed on paper of a texture and quality which is generally
in use in small Continental newspaper offices. From certain
peculiarities of the printed characters, it was seen that the type
from which it was printed must have been cast in Spain.... The
manifesto was neatly folded and enclosed in an envelope of octavo
size, and the actual sheet-size was what is known in the printing
trade as double-crown. The postage stamps were Spanish, the place of
posting, as revealed by the office post-marks, were in some cases
Malaga, and in some, Algeciras. The fact that, whether posted at one
place or the other, the date of the posting was identical, supported
the view that at least two persons had been concerned in the despatch.
The manifesto itself ran:
"To THE CIVILIZED NATION (_sic_).
"Whereas, we, the company known as the Nine Men of Cadiz, have been
placed by universal decree outside the law, and whereas it is against
our desires that such decrees of outlawry should exist against us,
both from the point of view of our own personal comfort and safety,
and from the point of view of the free exchange of commercial (_sic_)
relationships.
"Now, therefore, we decree--
"That unless an immediate free pardon be granted to each and every
man on board the _Maria Braganza_ and liberty be given to him to go
his way peaceably without arrest or fear of molestations (sic), the
owners and crew of the _Maria Braganza_ will declare war upon the
commerce of the world. It will loot and destroy such shipping as may
with advantage be so looted and destroyed, and in the end will fight
to the last against its aggressor.
"(Signed) By order of the Nine.
"POLTAVO."
It is no exaggeration to say that the publication of this manifesto
caused a panic, not only in shipping circles, but throughout the
civilised world. The sea held a hidden danger, neither life nor
property was secure.
That the fears of the community were justified was proved by the
story of the _Taglan Castle_, and within a fortnight came the story
of the North Atlantic outrage.
The _Caratana_, the fastest mail-ship afloat, as well as being nearly
the largest, was sixty hours out of New York with 350 passengers on
board, when she came up with a strange warship flying a red flag.
The warship hoisted an unintelligible signal, which the captain of
the _Caratana_ did not understand. It was followed by one of which
there could be no mistaking the meaning:
"Stop, or I will sink you."
The captain of the Atlantic liner knew all that was known about the
_Maria Braganza_, and at once realised his danger. If he did not
realise it, there came a shell from the warship which passed astern.
Fortunately, there was a mist on the water, which grew heavier every
minute--a dense bank of fog, not usually met with so far east.
The captain of the _Caratana_ decided upon the course of action he
would take. Very quickly he signalled "I surrender," and rang his
engines to "stop." The men on the warship seemed satisfied with his
action, and no further demonstration was made against the liner.
Such was the "way" on the big ship that, although her propellers had
ceased to revolve, she continued her course--nearer and nearer she
grew to a thick patch of the fog that lay ahead of her. The _Maria
Braganza_ may have suspected the manoeuvre, for she signalled "Go
astern."
For answer, the captain of the _Caratana_ put port and starboard
engines full ahead, and, whilst men were running to their stations on
the warship, the _Caratana_ slipped into the fog-belt.
In an instant, the _Maria Braganza_ was blotted from view.
The liner captain put his helm over to starboard, and it was well
that he did so, for, with a reverberating crash, the warship opened
fire in the direction in which he had disappeared. Shell after shell
came flying through the thick mist, and the thud of their impact as
they struck the water came to the ears of the affrighted passengers.
The sound of spasmodic firing grew fainter and fainter every minute
as the great steamer went threshing through the swirling fog, until
it ceased altogether.
Although no harm had befallen the liner, the news of the attack
produced a profound sensation. Its effect was to paralyse the
business of ocean travel. The "Mad Warship" terrorised the seas.
It was on the day the report of this new outrage reached England that
T. B. Smith located Poltavo.
* * * * * * *
There languished in a prosaic prison cell at Brixton Gaol a Monsieur
Torquet, who was admittedly a victim of police persecution. That
much T. B. himself was prepared to admit.
Monsieur Torquet was suspected not of a crime against any particular
section of society, but indeed of being accessory to a crime against
humanity; and T. B. was prepared to run a tilt at the very Habeas
Corpus Act rather than release his grip upon the stranger with the
straggling beard who had so heavily insured the _Taglan Castle_
before she started out on her adventurous voyage.
This Monsieur Torquet, brooding in the loneliness of his cell at
Brixton, had very nearly reached the limits of his patience; the
silence and the indifference had crushed what little spirit there was
in him.
For two months he had lain without trial, in a cell which had a table
on which were pen, paper, and ink. He had not in all that time
touched the one or the other, but on the day that the Atlantic liner
came across the _Maria Braganza_ he sat at the table and wrote a
brief note to the governor of the prison. Within an hour T. B. Smith
was ushered into the cell, and remained with the man for some time.
Then he came out, and sent for a shorthand clerk, and together they
returned.
For four hours the three men worked, one questioning and translating,
one answering at first sullenly and with periodic outbursts of
temper, and later eagerly, volubly--and all this time the clerk wrote
and wrote, until one note-book was exhausted and he sent out for
another.
It was late in the evening when he said:
"And that, monsieur, is all."
"All?" T. B.'s eyebrows rose. "All? But you have not explained the
whereabouts of Lolo?"
The prisoner was frankly puzzled.
"Lolo?" he repeated. "M'sieur, I do not understand."
It was T. B.'s turn to be astonished.
"But the rendezvous--there was to be some rendezvous where the ship
would come to pick up any member of the Nine who might become
detached."
The man shook his head, and at that moment an idea occurred to T. B.
He drew from his pocket a copy of Baggin's little "cross with the
nobs," as it had been named at Scotland Yard.
"Do you know this?" he asked.
The man looked at it, and smiled.
"Yes--Poltavo drew that for me on the last occasion I met him in
Paris."
"What does it mean?"
Again the prisoner shook his head.
"I do not know," he said simply. "Poltavo was telling me something
of his plans. He drew the cross and was beginning to explain its
meaning, and then for some reason he stopped, crumpled up the paper,
and threw it into the fireplace. At the time I attached some
importance to it, and, after he had gone, I rescued it, but----"
"You don't understand it?"
"I don't," said the man, and T. B. knew that he spoke the truth.