Plans
Burgoyne's solitary meditations were interrupted by the appearance of
the purser and Barnes the steward, the latter carrying a tin pannikin
of lime juice.
"That's better, Mr. Burgoyne," exclaimed Holmes, seeing that the
patient had recovered consciousness. "My word, that was some fight by
all accounts. You didn't half sock the blighter."
Alwyn drank deeply before replying:
"S'pose it was," he admitted. "Goodness only knows why I did take the
fellow on, though. How long shall I have to stop here, do you think?"
"Matter of a couple of days," replied the purser. "Pity you didn't
settle that chap Strogoff. He didn't attend afternoon parade, thank
goodness, but he was fooling around all the blessed morning, finding
fault with things."
Burgoyne raised himself on one elbow. The movement sent a thrill of
pain all over his body.
"He didn't see Miss Vivian, I hope?" he asked anxiously.
"Young Bill? No. Young Bill was kept in the background, so to speak.
Hello! Here come the others. Hadn't any idea it was knocking-off
time."
Branscombe grinned sympathetically when he saw his chum.
"You low-down bruiser!" he exclaimed. "Did they teach you that in the
navy?"
"Partly," admitted Alwyn. "I'm afraid I departed somewhat from the
recognized canons of the ring towards the end. Had to, or I mightn't
have been here now. Well, any news?"
Phil divested himself of his soiled patrol coat, and revealed the
fact that he had encompassed his waist with an uncut length of about
ten fathoms of inch-and-a-half manila rope.
"A slight contribution to the general fund, eh, what, Withers?"
The Second Engineer produced his share of the day's plunder; one
hack-saw blade and four pieces of files each about three inches in
length.
"I had Satan's own job to get them," he explained. "The hack-saw
blade I managed by a sort of three-card trick, and old Li Whong never
twigged it. I spend most of the time in the workshop breaking off the
tips of eighteen-inch files and rounding off the jagged edges. Li
issued twenty-four out to the men, and twenty-four were returned; but
he didn't notice that, instead of eight eighteen-inch and ten
fourteen-inch, he received four eighteens and fourteen fourteens.
How's that, umpire?"
"Excellent," conceded Burgoyne.
"'Spose you haven't formed a satisfactory programme?" inquired
Branscombe. "Hardly to be expected from a battered old prize-fighter
like you."
"I have," replied Alwyn, "subject to alterations. In the first place,
any idea of surprising the guard must be scrapped. Although there are
more prisoners than guards when the _Malfilio_ is away, there's too
much alertness on the part of the pirates to warrant success. We'd be
bowled over like rabbits, especially if they caught us out in the
open with those machine-guns. What I propose doing is to select a
small crew--unfortunately I can't take it on, as I'm senior man
here--cut out one of the boats, provision her, and make a dash for
the Marshall Islands."
"That's all very fine," admitted Phil, after Alwyn had explained his
movements earlier in the day "Collaring the boat seems feasible; but
how about provisioning her? We can't lug fifteen days' grub down
through that tunnel and stow it away. And there's fresh water to be
taken into account. We've no barricoes. Even if we had, how could we
get, say, thirty gallons, or nearly three hundredweight of water to
the boat?"
"That is a proposition," admitted Burgoyne thoughtfully. "Ten gallons
ought to be sufficient, though. We must devise some way of getting
hold of a barrel or two. Now as regards provisioning the boat. Has
anyone a pencil?"
Withers supplied the required article.
"Phew!" ejaculated Burgoyne. "I feel like one of those 'Every Picture
tells a Story' advertisements we used to see in the papers at home.
You fellows carry on with your grub while I draw a rough chart of the
island. I don't think it will be very much out."
In spite of several interruptions, and at the cost of considerable
physical discomfort, Burgoyne completed the plan.
"Now," he continued, "there's a free passage right round the island
inside the reef. Here's our compound; there's where the fence ends on
the western side. Right underneath is a cave. If that won't suit,
probably the others will. What's to prevent us going down by means of
a rope and exploring? If everything's O.K. we can lower our reserve
stock of provisions, and hide the stuff in the cave until it's
wanted. Then, when opportunity serves, the crew told off to cut out
the lifeboat will run her round one dark night, provision, and be
more than hull down before dawn. If they fall in with a ship, so much
the better. If not, they can make the Marshall Islands, and in less
than a month there ought to be half a dozen cruisers off the island."
"Sounds all right," admitted Branscombe. "But how about a course?"
"I've a compass," replied Alwyn. "It's only a pocket one, and I don't
know what the variation and deviation are. But steer due south and
one can't go wrong. Whoever goes in charge of the boat takes the
compass."
"Who will?" asked Withers.
"Branscombe," replied the Third Officer. "At least, he's down for the
job. I can't go, unfortunately, but Phil is the only other officer
available who has had experience in boat-sailing and navigation."
"Thanks, old son!" exclaimed Phil.
"You haven't gone yet, dear old thing," rejoined Burgoyne. "However,
there's no harm in thinking things out. Another point is the crew.
One hand will be sufficient. I would suggest that Scilly Islander,
Minalto."
"A decent sort," conceded Branscombe.
"Yes," resumed Alwyn. "He started boat-sailing early in life. It's a
sort of instinct with the Scilly Islanders, since they can't go a
couple of miles in a straight line without having to make use of a
boat. He's a bit slow on the up-take, but he can interpret an order
intelligently. He's got initiative, and doesn't hang on to the
slack----"
"My child!" ejaculated Withers, rolling his eyes. "Why this
thusness?"
"You'd know quick enough if I could lay hold of you," declared
Burgoyne with mock severity. "Now, buzz off, if you don't mind. I
have some sort of idea that my head's aching."
Burgoyne did not get up on the following day, nor on the next. Before
he was fit to resume control a week had passed. Phil Branscombe
"carried on" for him, and the forced labour proceeded as leisurely as
the pirate crew permitted.
As far as the occupants of the compound were concerned, Black
Strogoff was a back number. Not since Burgoyne's encounter with the
Peruvian had he put in an appearance. One result of the quarrel
between Ramon Porfirio and Strogoff was the latter's transference to
the _Malfilio_, where he was less likely to cause trouble than if
left to influence a certain section of the pirates ashore. Fernando,
Strogoff's understudy, was undoubtedly a brute and lacked the
intelligence of the Russo-German, and the various members of the
crews of the three captured ships soon found that Fernando could be
easily hoodwinked.
During the week in which Burgoyne was detained within the compound,
he was kept well in touch with the progress of events. The _Malfilio_
during that period remained in harbour. Withers, who had been sent on
board the cruiser to assist in executing repairs reported that her
machinery was far from being in an efficient state, and that during
her last trip to sea she had burst the main steam-pipe of her
starboard engine. What had transpired during that short cruise he was
unable to ascertain; but it was evident that Ramon Porfirio was in a
very "jumpy" state.
In point of fact, the _Malfilio_ was overhauling an oil-tanker when
the steam-pipe gave out. Consequently the pursued vessel got away;
but whether she had any suspicion of the nature of the cruiser was a
matter for doubt in the pirate captain's mind. If she had, then her
escape would mean that the world would know of the existence of a
pirate craft in the North Pacific, and in due time things would be
made far too hot for Señor Ramon Porfirio.
Alwyn saw a good deal of Young Bill during his convalescence. The
girl's visits brought balm to his mind, but he would not have felt
quite so elated had he known that Hilda impartially distributed her
favours between all the "sick bay" cases amongst the _Donibristle's_
crew.
"I suppose you are properly fed up, being cooped on this island?"
asked Burgoyne.
"Not at all," replied Miss Vivian. "It's rather exciting, especially
wondering how we are going to get out of it. If things get no worse
there's not much to complain about. It was very hard losing Mother,
and both Dad and I feel the loss very much. But apart from that
there's nothing much to worry about--except carrying out your
orders, sir," she added, with an enigmatical smile.
"I'm glad you did that," said Alwyn.
"Supposing I had refused to wear these clothes, and insisted upon
keeping my face clean? As it is, I renew my charcoal powder three
times a day."
"Had you refused I should have taken steps to compel you," declared
Burgoyne firmly.
"I don't see how," remarked Hilda.
"It is unnecessary to give details," said Alwyn, his face growing
stern. "I can tell you this; if those ruffians had found out your sex
you would have been shot."
"Shot?" repeated the girl, unable to conceal her astonishment. "By
whom?"
"I should have done it," was Burgoyne's startling reply. "With the
full consent of your father. If you wish to know why, ask him."
Hilda Vivian changed the subject abruptly. Nor did Burgoyne ever have
to refer to the matter again It was, he reflected, a brutally drastic
step to take, but it had the desired result. The girl realized that
it was not an idle masquerade, but the shadow of a great peril, that
compelled her to assume the rôle of ship's boy.
A surprise awaited Alwyn when he was able to resume duty. Captain
Blair had made a rapid recovery, and was now able to resume his
interrupted control of the _Donibristle's_ officers and crew to the
extent permitted by Señor Ramon Porfirio and company.
Alwyn accepted the change most cheerfully. Although for certain
reasons he was loth to relinquish many of his responsibilities, he
was now left with a relatively free hand. He could pursue his
investigations with less fear of inside interruptions, since any
question of routine would be made direct to the skipper. He would
also be able to take command of the lifeboat, if and when she started
on her long voyage to the Marshall Islands. It was rather rough luck
on Branscombe, he reflected, being done out of that part of the
excitement, but there was no question as to who was the better man at
handling a small sailing-boat.
At the first opportunity Burgoyne broached the subject to Captain
Blair. The Old Man listened carefully to the Third Officer's recital,
then, to the latter's utter astonishment he said:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Burgoyne, but I refuse to give you or anyone else
permission to make the attempt."