The Vigil on the Cliffs
At ten o'clock, having snatched two hours of sound sleep, Burgoyne
was awakened by Phil Branscombe and Withers.
"What's it like outside?" was Alwyn's first question.
"Quiet," replied Phil. "What little wind there is is off shore for
us, an' there's just about enough starlight. I've got the pickets and
the block, Withers has the rope, and Minalto and Twill are outside."
Although, with one exception, every officer, passenger and man of the
_Donibristle_ knew of what was about to take place, and offers of
assistance had simply poured in, Burgoyne had been compelled to limit
the exploring-party to five. It was the absolute maximum and minimum,
since two were required to descend the cliff, and three to man the
rope by which the others were to be lowered and hauled up again.
The only one not in the secret was the Canuk, Miles. One night
recently he had not been in the compound, and, putting two and two
together, Captain Blair had concluded that the fellow was in touch
with one section of the pirate crew. On that occasion the prisoners
had been numbered off both in leaving and returning to the compound,
and although one was missing, the fact did not appear to trouble the
custodians of the gate. When Captain Blair taxed the delinquent, and
demanded an explanation, Miles pitched in a plausible yarn to the
effect that he had been working down below on board the
_Donibristle_, and had failed to hear the signal for the
working-parties to go ashore. Then, afraid of being found on board by
the pirates, he had lain low till the following day.
The Old Man accepted the statement without comment, but he fully
expected that any day the "drummer" would openly join the pirates.
To prevent him from "walking in his sleep" and stumbling across the
men working on the edge of the cliff, Miles was now closely watched
by three of the _Donibristle's_ crew, with instructions from the Old
Man that if the fellow attempted to leave his hut before daybreak he
was to be forcibly detained.
"I can't do more simply on suspicion," the skipper confided to
Burgoyne. "If I were sure that the miserable blighter was playing a
dirty trick, over the cliff he'd go one dark night, or my name's not
Roger Blair."
In single file and with the utmost caution the five adventurers made
their way to the cliff immediately above the caves that Burgoyne had
noticed during the fishing expedition. From the huts where the
pirates lived when ashore came the sounds of boisterous revelry. Not
a light was visible on the island, but the silhouette of the look-out
hill stood out sharply against the starry sky. There were alert men
stationed on that lofty perch, but whether they could discern the
five figures working silently on the edge of the cliff was extremely
doubtful, since the latter did not cut the sky-line. Nor could the
pirates on the hill command the expanse of beach below the cliff.
Muffling the head of one of the crow-bars with a piece of wet canvas
Jasper Minalto drove the iron rod deeply into the ground. The
operation was anxiously watched by the rest, fearful lest even the
dull thuds of the wood that served as a maul would betray their
presence.
"All right, so far," declared Alwyn. "Carry on, Minalto."
A second crow-bar was driven home at about a foot from the first and
parallel with the edge of the cliff. Between these and about six
inches from the ground the third bar was lashed horizontally. Under
the fork thus formed a stout beam was thrust, until its end projected
three feet into space, with fifteen feet left resting on the turf.
The beam had been removed under cover of darkness from one of the
tumble-down huts, and must needs be replaced before dawn.
To the outward end of the projecting piece of timber the snatch-block
had been securely strapped. Then the end of the coil of rope was
pressed over the sheave, a "bowline on the bight" having been made to
accommodate the descending man.
"All ready, I think," said Burgoyne quietly. "Stand by, and when I'm
ready, lower away handsomely."
With four men holding on to the rope the Third Officer slipped into
the bowline. The rope ran slowly through the well-oiled block, and
Alwyn vanished from sight.
It was an eerie sensation dangling at the end of a rope over a cliff
more than two hundred feet high. The darkness destroyed the idea of
distance, but the descent was none the less hazardous on that
account. Although every care had been taken in the surreptitious
making of the rope, and every precaution taken to test it, there
might be a weak spot that had escaped detection.
Almost from the first of the descent the rope began to turn until he
was spinning giddily; then, as the length of rope increased, a
swaying motion was additionally imparted, until several times Alwyn
bumped heavily against the face of the cliff. He was thus able to
check the rotary motion at the expense of sundry and various bruises.
"By Jove," he soliloquized, in the midst of this human punch-ball
performance, "it'll be rough on Young Bill if we ever have to lower
her down. It would scare her stiff right away."
The actual descent took four minutes. To Burgoyne it seemed much
longer, and it was with considerable relief that he felt his feet
touch the soft sand, and was able to extricate his cramped and
bruised frame from the embraces of the bowline.
There was no need to shout to the others to "'vast paying out!" The
release of the tension on the rope told them that the descent was
accomplished. Then, like a phantom, the bowline vanished as the
helpers hauled the rope to the top of the cliff. Within five minutes
Jasper Minalto joined Burgoyne on the beach. Since there was the
possibility of the rope's shortening with the release of his weight,
and contracting by the heavy dew, he took the precaution of bending
in a length of light line and weighting it with a lump of coral.
Burgoyne was not likely to fail through lack of precaution or by
neglecting to take proper steps to facilitate his return.
The cave exceeded the Third Officer's expectations. It was for the
most part dry, the floor being above high-water mark, and the
undisturbed sand at its mouth pointed to the fact that a long time
had elapsed since human feet had trodden it. Darkness prevented a
minute examination, and it was only by a sense of touch that the two
men were able to make their investigations.
About eighty feet in length, and with a gradually shelving floor, the
cave was less than five feet in height at its entrance, but soon
increased until Minalto was unable to touch the roof even with his
enormous reach. In width it averaged about twelve feet when half a
dozen paces inside its mouth.
There was water, too. Eagerly Burgoyne groped for and found the
steady trickle. Holding his hands cup-fashion he filled his palms
with water and held the liquid to his lips.
"Fresh!" he exclaimed to his companion. "We're in luck this time."
"But we've nothin' in the barrel line for tu put et in," added
Jasper.
"Not even a petrol tin," added Alwyn. "Ever drunk water out of a
petrol tin, Minalto?"
The Scilly Islander shook his head.
"Leave ut tu you, sir," he replied. "I've a-drunk water wi' three
inches o' paraffin on top of ut on the West Coast--Accra way. That
wur enough for I."
Gently jerking the rope, as a signal to Branscombe for the stock of
emergency rations to be sent down, Burgoyne gave his companion
instructions to bury the stuff in the cave. Leaving Minalto to carry
on, the Third Officer walked down to the water's edge, then, turning
abruptly to the left, followed the line of wet sand left by the
receding tide.
At every possible spot where the cliff might be scalable he
approached the base of the rocks, always without the desired result.
Carefully obliterating his footprints on the dry sand, he continued
his way until farther progress was barred by the abrupt ending of the
beach at a point beyond which the cliff rose sheer from the lagoon.
The secret base was an unscalable plateau with only one
approach--except by means of a rope--and that was the
carefully-guarded tunnel, where more than likely (although Burgoyne
was not certain on that point) the double portcullis was lowered
every night.
Disappointed but by no means disheartened Burgoyne returned to the
cave, where Jasper had completed his task and was awaiting him. To
him Alwyn related the results of his investigations.
"Lawks!" exclaimed Minalto. "You can swim, can't you, sir? What's
wrong with the reef? Can't us swim off to 'en and walk round to t'
harbour? I'd do it now, on my head like, if you're in no particular
hurry."
"Sharks?" queried Alwyn.
"Sharks!" repeated Jasper. "Ain't seen none since I've bin on the
island, an' many's the time I've watched the water an' within' I
could have a swim. What d'ye say, sir. Might I go?"
Burgoyne was fired by the man's enthusiasm. It was now midnight.
Allowing three hours to cover a distance of six or seven miles,
Minalto ought with luck to be back well before four. This would give
the party an hour and a half before dawn in which to "pack up",
replace gear, remove all traces of the night's work, and regain their
quarters.
"All right," agreed the Third Officer. "I'll come with you as far as
the end of the bay. Wish I could do the whole thing, only the others
would be scared stiff and think we'd done ourselves in. When I return
I'll get myself hauled up and wait on the top of the cliff. You know
the signal? Right, and don't forget to wipe out your footprints. The
tide will be at quarter flood on your return."
With many other cautions and suggestions, Burgoyne accompanied the
stout-hearted seaman to a spot where the reef approached to within
three hundred yards of the shore.
Taking off his shoes, and slinging them round his neck, Minalto waded
waist-deep into the water and struck out for the line of milk-white
foam that marked the reef. Burgoyne remained at the edge of the
lagoon until the phosphorescent swirl that marked the swimmer's
progress was merged into the darkness. He had no indication that
Minalto had reached the reef, for his white-clad form would be
indistinguishable against the ever-breaking wall of foam.
Retracing his way to the cave Burgoyne slipped into the bowline and
tugged three times at the rope. The signal was promptly answered, and
the swaying, roundabout ascent commenced.
"Well?" inquired Branscombe anxiously, when Alwyn landed safely on
the top of the cliff.
"All serene," replied the Third Officer, a little breathlessly.
"We'll have to stand by for a few hours. Minalto has gone on a voyage
of exploration. That chap gave me a thundering good idea. I was
getting a bit tied up in knots when I found there was no way up from
the beach, so he suggested walking along the reef--and he's gone and
done it," he added vernacularly.
Dispatching Twill to inform Captain Blair of the alteration of plans,
so that the Old Man would not be unduly anxious about their failure
to return at the suggested time, the three officers prepared to make
the best of their long vigil. They took fifteen minutes' shifts to
tend the rope, so that should Minalto return before they expected
there would be no delay in receiving his signal and hauling him up.
"Can you get hold of another length of signal halyard, Phil?" asked
Alwyn. "Another three hundred feet of it."
"I dare say," replied Branscombe. "I'll have a jolly good shot at
getting it, anyway. What's the scheme?"
Burgoyne rubbed his aching shoulders.
"If you'd been barged into the cliff umpteen times, old son, you'd
know," he declared grimly. "We want a guide-line, stretched taut and
about eighteen inches inside the rope. That'll prevent anyone being
bumped, and also spare them the luxury of an impromptu
merry-go-round. We'll have to lower Young Bill, and we may as well
make things as comfortable as possible for her."
"Quite so," agreed Phil. "I'll get some line tomorrow, even if it
makes my figure look like that of a portly alderman. It wouldn't be a
bad idea either to get hold of some spare canvas. You'll want some
sort of awning or tent for the boat, and it will come in handy. For
one thing, we can wrap Miss Vivian up in it when we lower her."
"What for?" asked Withers.
"To protect her in case any loose stones fall from the cliff,"
explained Branscombe. "'Sides, if she's covered up she won't be quite
so frightened when she's being lowered. At least, I shouldn't think
so."
For some minutes silence reigned, save for the ever-present dull
rumble of the surf. Then Withers apparently without any reason, began
chuckling to himself.
"What is it?" asked Phil.
"What's the joke," added Alwyn. "Out with it."
"Nothing much," replied Withers. "Only a reminiscence. This cliff
recalled it."
He paused, his eyes fixed seaward.
"Let's have it, old son," prompted Branscombe.
"I thought I saw a vessel's masthead light out there," declared the
Second Engineer. "Must have been mistaken.... The yarn? Oh, it was
merely an incident. It was in '14, just after war broke out. I was on
a collier awaiting orders at Whitby. Everyone was on thorns over the
spy scare. Well, one night, there was a report that lights were
flashing on the cliff, and a crowd of fellows went off to
investigate. Having nothing better to do that evening, I went too.
Sure enough there were lights about every half minute. About two
miles from Whitby we ran full tilt into a couple of men striking
matches, so they were promptly collared."
The narrator paused and looked seaward again.
"What happened?" asked Burgoyne.
"Nothing--they were released," replied Withers.
"I can't see anything funny in that," remarked Phil.
"Well, it was funny--and pathetic, too," explained Withers. "They
were deaf mutes. One lived in a small cottage near Kettleness, and
the other's home was in York. They had missed the last train for
Kettleness and were walking along the cliff path to Whitby. Their
only means of communicating with each other was by lip-reading, and
since it was dark they stopped and struck matches whenever they
wanted to converse. They had used up three boxes of matches by the
time we came up. Poor blighters! As likely as not they didn't know
there was a war on; if they did it was obvious they hadn't heard
about the regulations concerning coastwise lights. But, by Jove!
surely those are vessel's steaming lights?"
"It is, by smoke!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "A steamer going south. I can
just distinguish her port light."
"The _Malfilio_ perhaps?" suggested Branscombe.
"Not she," declared Withers. "That steam pipe of hers will take at
least two days more before it's patched up."
"I can see her green, now," announced Alwyn "She's altering course.
If she holds on she'll pile herself upon the reef."
Helpless to warn the on-coming vessel--for even had the three
officers been provided with means of signalling they would have
incurred heavy penalties by the pirates and the wrecking of all the
formers' carefully laid plans--the watchers on the cliff awaited
events.
The vessel was now steaming dead slow--at least she took an
unconscionable time in approaching. That was in her favour. It might
give the look-outs the opportunity to hear the roar of the surf;
while, even if she did strike, and were held by the coral reef, she
would not be likely to sustain serious damage.
Suddenly a dazzling glare leapt from the vessel and the giant beam of
a searchlight swept the island. From where the three officers lay
prone on the grass they could see the rim of the cliff outlined in
silver. The crest of the Observation Hill was bathed in the electric
gleams, but elsewhere, owing to the depression towards the centre of
the plateau, the island was in darkness. So carefully chosen was the
site of the various buildings that nowhere from seaward could they be
visible.
"A warship!" declared Burgoyne. "I say, this complicates matters.
Let's get back to the huts, or we'll be missed. We can return before
dawn."
Cautiously the three officers made their way down the slight slope,
where the darkness, by contrast with the slowly traversing beam of
light overhead, was intense.
When within fifty yards of the nearest of the prisoners' huts
Burgoyne gripped his companions' arms.
"Lie down!" he whispered.
Both officers obeyed promptly. Alwyn, on hands and knees, went on.
Presently he rejoined them.
"It's too late," he said in a low voice. "There is an armed pirate
outside every hut."