The Scuttling of the "Donibristle"
On the morning following the departure of the U.S.S. _Yosemite_ from
the vicinity of the secret base the forced labour parties turned out
to find the rain descending in torrents. It was the first rainy day
since the arrival of the _Donibristle's_ crew, and they viewed the
climatic conditions with marked disfavour.
There was no wind. Overhead from a mirky, dark-grey sky the heavy
drops were falling vertically, thudding upon the corrugated iron
sheets like the beating of a hundred kettle-drums and rebounding from
the puddles already formed, until as far as the eye could see--a
distance of less than fifty yards--everything appeared to be a
confused blurr of moisture.
"There'll be wind behind this lot," remarked Captain Blair. "Let's
hope it'll blow over before Thursday."
It was his first day outside the compound. Partly owing to the desire
to share the discomforts with his men and also to make himself
acquainted with the harbour, he had insisted upon taking charge of
the working-party told off to proceed to the beach.
Ramon Porfirio was in a hurry to complete the operations hindered by
the appearance of the _Yosemite_, which were to result in the
blocking-up of the southern approach channel by sinking the
_Donibristle_ in about eight fathoms of water between the detached
ridge and the southern arm of the cliff enclosing the harbour. It was
for this purpose that buoys had been laid down in order to warp the
_Donibristle_ to the position chosen for the act of scuttling.
Already the vessel's masts and derricks had been taken out of her,
and the wreckage of the funnels and bridge removed. Almost everything
of a portable nature likely to be of use to the pirates had been
landed, until with the exception of her engines and boilers very
little remained but the hull and a few fittings considered of no
value for removal.
Ill-equipped for the wet weather the _Donibristle's_ company turned
out and awaited the arrival of Fernando, who invariably superintended
the calling of the roll. About fifty feet away and just visible
through the rain were the _Kittiwake's_ crew, who for the last week
or more had been engaged in excavating dug-outs and trenches on the
cliff through which the approach-tunnel had been driven. Farther away
and lost to view, the remnants of the _Alvarado's_ men were mustering
for their daily toil.
Presently the skipper of the _Kittiwake_, seeing Captain Blair with
his men, strolled over to him.
"Mornin', Blair," said Captain Davis. "Not a nice sort of morning for
you to be turning out. Feelin' fit?"
"Fairly," admitted Captain Blair. "Eh, what is it?"
For the _Kittiwake's_ Old Man had taken the _Donibristle's_ skipper
by the arm, and was leading him away from the rest of the party.
"A word in your ear, Blair," replied Captain Davis, lowering his
voice "You've got a young woman amongst your crowd, haven't you?"
"How on earth did you get to know that?" demanded the astounded
skipper.
"'Taint a question of my knowing," rejoined Captain Davis. "There are
others in the know also I'm just warning you, Blair; you can count on
Captain Davis and the _Kittiwakes_ to help you put up a fight if need
be, although the lot of us don't stand a dog's chance."
"Thanks for the warning, Davis," replied Captain Blair grimly. "I'll
act upon it."
The arrival of the half-caste overseer terminated the conversation.
Captain Blair, greatly perturbed, walked slowly back to his men.
An hour later the soaked and dispirited prisoners were launching
several of the boats, amongst them the lifeboat that Burgoyne had
definitely in view for the projected flight from the island. It was
raining so heavily that by the time the boats ran alongside the
_Donibristle_ the bottom-boards were floating, in spite of the fact
that the plugs had been withdrawn and the water allowed to drain out
before launching.
Wearing an almost new dark blue bridge-coat that looked suspiciously
like the skipper's, Black Strogoff was sheltering under the boat-deck
when the working-party arrived. With him were half a dozen pirates
armed with automatic pistols.
"You there!" shouted Black Strogoff on catching sight of Captain
Blair. "Come you here. Do you know what is to be done? Run out warps
ahead and astern, buoy and slip the cables to move the ship round
that point. You understand? Good; then do it, and tell me when the
work is finished."
There was no option but to obey. Calling Burgoyne and Branscombe
Captain Blair allotted them their respective posts, sending the
former away in a large pulling cutter to pass the bow warp to the
nearmost buoy. He also took the opportunity of conferring hurriedly
with Alwyn on another matter.
In the absence of steam the work of warping out had to be carried out
by hand. The cable was slipped, and, under the united efforts of the
score of men walking away with the bow warp, the _Donibristle_ moved
slowly, almost reluctantly, through the rain-beaten waters of the
harbour.
As the battered hulk passed within a cable's length of the pirate
cruiser, Ramon Porfirio stepped to the rail of the _Malfilio_ and
shouted a curt order to the sheltering Strogoff. Apparently the
command was to the effect that the work must be hurried up, for the
pirate lieutenant, emerging from his retreat, gave a brief and surly
reply. Then, bawling to Captain Blair to tell the men to haul away
quicker, he retired to his temporary den.
"Meaning, I suppose," observed Captain Blair to Branscombe, "that the
_Malfilio_ is about to sail and that Porfirio wants the job finished
before he weighs. How is that fractured steam-pipe getting on, by the
by, Angus?"
"It's patched up," reported the Chief Engineer with a dry chuckle.
"She'll be raising steam I've nae doot, but she'll blaw yon patch
clean out when they wark up tae onything like a pressure."
Captain Blair's surmise was a correct one. Porfirio, having picked up
the wireless messages exchanged between the British, American, and
Japanese cruisers engaged in searching for the missing merchant
vessels, was aware that they had given up hope of finding the
survivors and were returning to their respective bases. He was a
believer in the old adage "Men and ships rot in port ", and was loth
to keep the _Malfilio_ and her polyglot crew in harbour any longer.
Inactivity not only meant no prizes; the pirates, lawless except for
the iron rule of their captain, were particularly apt to get out of
hand when their enthusiasm flagged by standing idle.
But before he set sail he wanted to see the _Donibristle_ sunk in the
South Approach Channel. That entrance, he considered, was a weak spot
in the natural defences of the secret base, and by sealing it against
the passage of all but the smaller craft he would be able to devote
all his resources to the defence of the sole remaining approach. Not
that Ramon Porfirio had any desire to pit the guns of the island
against a squadron of warships. He hoped to be able to disappear
decently long before the secret was out, leaving Henriques and
Strogoff to shift for themselves. Similarly Black Strogoff was
fostering a plan to get away from the island with the bulk of the
booty in specie, and, once clear, obtain his revenge on Porfirio by
denouncing him to the British Admiralty or the U.S. Navy Board.
At length the _Donibristle_ was warped out until her bows nearly
touched the sheer face of the cliff that formed the detached screen
to the anchorage. Hawsers were then led from her port quarter and
starboard bow, until she swung straight up and down the Southern
Approach Channel. A cable's length more and the ship arrived at the
scene of her watery grave.
Captain Blair, looking much like a parent would when called upon to
sacrifice a child--for the idea of scuttling his ship was hateful to
him in the extreme--shouted for the boats to be recalled. The
life-boat, in which Burgoyne and half a dozen men had been working,
ranged alongside under the _Donibristle's_ port quarter. Astern of
the life-boat was a gig; while a couple of cutters and another
gig--the latter only manned by pirates--came alongside the starboard
accommodation ladder.
"We're in eight fathoms of water, Mr. Burgoyne," sang out the Old
Man.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Third Officer.
Captain Blair turned and made his way to the spot where Black
Strogoff was standing.
"We are in position," he reported gruffly.
"And about time, too," was the ungracious response. "All right, tell
your men to push off."
The skipper of the _Donibristle_ then crossed to the starboard rail,
and leaning over the side ordered the men to lay off at a distance of
about half a dozen boats' lengths. Then, calling to everyone of his
party on board to abandon ship, he waited until the deck was clear of
all but Black Strogoff and two or three of his followers, and
lowering himself by a rope gained the gig on the port side.
The scuttling was quickly accomplished. In order to prevent the
vessel from being raised at any future date the Kingston Valves were
not employed to flood the ship, but in each of the holds and in the
engine-room explosive charges had been placed in position ready to be
electrically fired from the deck.
"You know what to do, Perez?" inquired Black Strogoff, addressing an
olive-featured ruffian whose costume consisted of a pair of canvas
trousers, a poncho made of pampas grass, and a cork lifebelt.
The man nodded. He had no great liking for the task, and was
wondering what would happen to him if the charge was sufficiently
powerful to blow up the decks as well as shattering the keel plates.
"You will feel only a slight shock," declared Strogoff reassuringly,
but Perez noted that the lieutenant showed no inclination to remain.
In point of fact Strogoff hurried down the accommodation ladder,
jumped into the gig, and ordered the men to row twice the distance of
the other boats from the ship before he signed to Perez to depress
the firing-key.
Simultaneously with a muffled report the charges burst. Without
waiting for the good ship _Donibristle_ to sink under him the
operator took a flying leap over the side, hit the water with a
tremendous splash, and struck out frantically, swimming as fast as
the huge cork lifebelt permitted.
The _Donibristle_, her keel-plates rent asunder, sank rapidly, with a
slight list to port. Amidst a smother of foam caused by the escaping
of the confined air, she settled on the bed of the channel, with
about five or six feet of her upperworks showing on the starboard,
and less than one foot clear on the port side.
Above the hiss of escaping air and the turmoil of the agitated water
came the voices of a dozen men shouting at once:
"The life-boat's taken under."
The gig containing Black Strogoff appeared on the scene, just as five
or six men forming the life-boat's crew were scrambling over the
gunwales of the boats nearest them.
"What game of fools is this?" demanded the lieutenant angrily.
"Life-boat's sunk. Pinned down by the foot of one of the davits,"
announced one of the men.
"Sunk like a stone, with her sides crushed like an egg-shell," added
another.
"Just about as much as we could do to get clear," declared a third.
"She was gone in a brace of shakes. An' where's Mr. Burgoyne?"
"Anyone seen Mr. Burgoyne?" inquired Captain Blair loudly.
"I seed 'im in the boat, sir," declared the bowman of the lost
life-boat.
"So did I, sir," volunteered another seaman. "He was a-holdin' on the
yoke-lines, and was goin' to tell us to----"
"He was a blamed idiot," declared Strogoff. "What did he mean by
hanging on alongside when the ship was sinking?"
"She went that sudden-like," explained the bowman.
"Didn't give us no chance no-how."
"Anyone else missing?" demanded Captain Blair.
There was a pause, then half a dozen voices replied in unison:
"Yes, sir, Minalto, the quartermaster of the port watch."
"No sign of them?"
Several of the men peered into the now transparent water, for the
sand disturbed by the sinking vessel had now settled. Twenty feet
below the surface, pinned down by something engaging the starboard
gunwale, the life-boat could be seen with fair distinctness. She was
lying on her beam ends with her bows slightly lower than her stern.
"Can't see 'em, sir," replied one of the men. "P'raps they're trapped
between the boat and the side of the ship."
"You might have given us more warning," said Captain Blair addressing
the taciturn lieutenant. "If you had I should not have lost a
promising officer and a smart seaman."
"Imbeciles, both of them," snapped Black Strogoff. "They have
themselves only to blame. It is none of my affair."
"Now I come to think on it," resumed the irresponsible bowman. "I
think I saw Mr. Burgoyne mixed up wi' some gear as we dipped.
An'----"
Captain Blair held up his hand to enjoin silence. Having succeeded in
bluffing Black Strogoff he considered it high time for the mendacious
recital to terminate. He was too good an actor to risk wrecking the
piece by an excess of "gagging".