A DESPERATE VENTURE
Slowly, like a convalescent taking his first walk and as yet doubtful of
his strength, the _Hawk_ began to push the seas aside and move ahead.
The engines, instead of working with rhythmic regularity, were banging
and thumping in jerky spasms--still, they were working--the bridge shook
with their ponderous vibrations, while the wire funnel stays tautened
and slacked as the smokestack quivered.
The first duty accomplished after the clearing up of the decks was the
disposal of the dead, which were placed in canvas bags weighted with
firebars to ensure their sinking. There were no prayers, services, or
ceremonies of any kind; they were simply dropped over the side....
In the hold Calamity and the mate were at work with their coats off and
shirt-sleeves rolled up. Some of the hatch-covers had been removed to
secure better ventilation and a couple of lanterns suspended from the
girders flickered feebly in the semi-twilight. Against the bulkheads
were two rows of mattresses arranged so as to leave a passage between
them, and on some of these lay wounded men, each with a coarse, black
blanket thrown over him. The Captain, assisted by Mr. Dykes, was
attending to the more serious cases in a manner which caused the mate
considerable secret astonishment. He had expected to see the skipper
perform the duties of surgeon in a rough and ready if not a brutal way,
and had felt a strong sympathy for his prospective victims. Instead,
Calamity handled the men with almost professional skill, performing even
serious operations with deft, quick fingers, and without either
nervousness or hesitation. A smile, a cheery word of encouragement, a
full-flavoured joke worked wonders, and a man, even in excruciating
pain, would grin feebly at some broad jest uttered by the Captain.
Dora Fletcher, who had thought better of her first hasty decision, was
dressing some of the minor wounds. To her, Calamity's new rôle came as a
startling revelation of a hitherto unsuspected phase of his character.
She, who had seen him commit acts of unquestionable brutality, now
watched him pass from bed to bed with an air of quiet assurance that
inspired even the worst cases with new confidence and hope. Men flinched
apprehensively as he approached to examine their injuries, but his
touch, though firm, was as gentle as a woman's, and their fears were
quickly set at rest.
He scarcely even glanced at the girl, and when he did so it was to give
some curt directions as from a surgeon to a nurse. Yet she felt
strangely happy and triumphant, for at last he had been forced to
recognise and to demand her assistance. She felt herself necessary to
him, and the terse orders, involving her co-operation in the work of
succour, seemed to her a tacit admission of the fact. Henceforth she
would at least be an entity in his eyes; he would have to acknowledge
her existence, even if he resented it.
After the Captain and Mr. Dykes had gone; throughout the whole night,
indeed, the girl remained at her post. She found plenty to do; giving
cooling drinks to those whose throats were parched with fever,
readjusting dressings which had worked out of place, and performing the
hundred and one offices which fall to the lot of a watcher of the sick.
At intervals during the night the mate or Smith would enter the dim
hold, which now reeked with the pungent odour of antiseptics, to proffer
their services, and once Mr. Dykes tried to persuade her to turn in. But
she rejected the suggestion indignantly, and ordered him out of the
place, whereupon he departed sheepishly. At about five o'clock in the
morning Calamity looked in again and seemed surprised to find her there.
"How long have you been on watch?" he asked.
"Since you left," she answered.
"Then you'd no right to. Dykes or Smith should have told off a man to
keep watch. Get off to your bunk. I don't want a sick woman aboard."
Without a word she left the sick-bay, and then, for the first time,
realised how exhausted she really was. Without troubling to undress, she
flung herself upon the bunk and was asleep almost before her head
touched the pillow.
All that day and the next as well, the _Hawk_ chugged her way in a
northerly direction, her speed never exceeding six knots and sometimes
falling below that. How McPhulach had contrived to patch up her engines
sufficiently to do even so much was a mystery no one but himself could
have explained. Still, they might break down again at any moment, and it
was absolutely necessary to find some port where the repairs could be
carried out more thoroughly, and with the proper appliances. In the
meantime much of the damage sustained in the encounter with the yacht
had been repaired. Paint and canvas had done much to cover the effects
of shot and shell, and outwardly, at least, the _Hawk_ had resumed her
normal appearance. But it was merely superficial, like the creams and
cosmetics used by a faded beauty to hide the ravages of time. In fact
she was, as Smith put it, "a whited bloomin' sepulchre."
On the second morning, as Miss Fletcher was going down to the hold, she
met Mr. Dykes.
"The skipper's orders are that you're to take four-hour watches, so that
you'll have a rest between each spell," he said.
She merely nodded and passed into the hold. The dim, yellow glow of the
lanterns was fading in the growing daylight, making the surroundings
more gloomy and depressing than even the half-light. She moved from bed
to bed with noiseless steps, performing various little services for the
sufferers. One man, who knew that he was dying, asked her to write down
and witness his last will and testament--a curiously pathetic
document--and for another she wrote a letter that was to be posted at
the first port the ship touched. In a far corner she found a man making
feeble efforts to undo the front of his shirt. He was too weak to speak,
and, wondering what he wanted, the girl unbuttoned it to find a small
silver crucifix suspended from a piece of string round his neck.
Divining his need, she placed it in his hand, and the coarse, misshapen
fingers closed over the Symbol; thus he died.
Soon afterwards the Captain entered and passed between the beds,
stopping to ask each of the patients how he was getting on, and giving a
cheery word of encouragement to everyone. At last he reached the bed
where Dora Fletcher stood over the dead figure, whose fingers still
clasped the little silver crucifix.
"H'm," he grunted, "another loss. Anything to report?"
In a few words the girl described the condition and progress of the
various patients. At the conclusion Calamity nodded, but made no
comment.
"I should like to ask you a favour, Captain," she said quietly.
"A favour? Well, what is it?" he demanded in a tone that was the reverse
of encouraging.
"Do you think you could give this poor fellow"--she indicated the dead
man on the bed--"a Christian burial? I--I think he would have wished
it."
A look of mingled surprise and annoyance came into the Captain's face as
he glanced at the unconscious figure.
"The man's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, of course," answered the girl, puzzled by the question.
"Then what difference can it make to him how he's buried?" demanded
Calamity, and, without waiting for an answer, walked away.
Later on that day Mr. Dykes urged the request again at Miss Fletcher's
desire.
"I can't make distinctions," replied the Captain. "The man's got to take
his chance of paradise with the rest. I'm not going to give him an
unfair advantage over the others. Besides, this is a cheerful ship, and
I don't intend to depress the living by reading burial services over the
dead. They'll get their proper ratings without my assistance."
So that evening the corpse, sewed up in canvas and weighted with a
piece of pig-iron, was cast over the side without ceremony.
Early on the following morning the look-out upon the foc'sle head
reported land on the starboard bow.
The news brought the men rushing on deck at once, for the sight of land
to sailors at sea is always an interesting event, savouring of
adventure, women, and wine. The news was immediately reported to the
Captain, who hurried on to the bridge and scrutinised the seeming cloud
for some time through the glasses which Smith, who was on watch, handed
to him.
"H'm," grunted Calamity, "an island."
"One of the Palau Group I should say, sir."
"Which means that it's German--eh?"
"_Was_ German, sir," corrected the second-mate.
"There's no knowing; among so many scattered islands it's quite possible
that one or two may have been overlooked by our cruisers."
"Maybe, sir," answered Smith doubtfully.
Calamity again focussed the glasses on the dark smudge in the dim
distance. As he had just pointed out to the second-mate, it was quite
possible that some of the small islands which went to make up what was
once called the Bismarck Archipelago had escaped official annexation.
This seemed the more probable since two German vessels, the gunboat and
the commerce-destroyer, were apparently still at large in these waters.
Both ships, particularly the former, would require a coaling station not
too far away, and what more likely, therefore, than that there should be
one hidden away among these innumerable islands?
The _Hawk_ slowly bore down upon the land, but her speed was now so
reduced that night had set in before those on board were able to get a
really good view. By the following morning, however, they found
themselves within a mile of it, and its palm-fringed beaches could be
seen plainly from the deck. There was nothing about the island to excite
wonder or interest, save that it just happened to be dry land amidst a
boundless waste of blue waters. Numbers of such islands, many of them
far larger, were to be met with in these latitudes.
Yet, because it was land, and suggestive of illicit pleasures, there was
an air of suppressed excitement aboard the _Hawk_. Throughout the day
she coasted slowly round it, but never once did a canoe or a catamaran
put off to trade; indeed, not a vestige of human life was to be seen. At
last, after they had nearly completed a circuit of the island, a small
harbour was sighted at the eastern extremity. On a hill, overlooking the
entrance, was a structure which suggested a fort, and this at once gave
Calamity the idea that the gunboat which had hitherto eluded him was
probably ensconced within this harbour. To "dig out" the pirate and take
possession of her spoils was the first thought which occurred to him,
but another and a stronger motive made him decide to enter the harbour
at all costs. This was the fact that the _Hawk's_ engines were next door
to useless, and, unless they could be more effectually repaired, would
become entirely so. It was quite possible, he reflected, that if the
island really was a German station, there would be appliances for
dealing with engine-room mishaps.
So, towards sundown, he steered boldly for the harbour, even blowing the
steam syren to call attention to his visit. The flagstaff on the fort,
he noticed, was bare, although as the _Hawk_ drew nearer it was possible
to make out an inconspicuous wireless installation.
"German without a doubt," he remarked to himself. "If it were British
the Union Jack would be floating up there."
He turned to Mr. Dykes and in a few words explained what he wanted done.
The _Hawk_ was to pose as a harmless American merchantman which had put
in for the purpose of trying to obtain some coal. The large crew,
totally out of proportion to the number required to man a peaceful
"tramp," were to remain in the foc'sle, except one or two who were to
lounge about the deck for show purposes. Therefore in a very few minutes
the decks were deserted except for the look-out and a couple of grimy
firemen who leant over the bulwarks expectorating into the water. Half
an hour later, the _Hawk_ reached the mouth of the harbour and the syren
emitted three ear-piercing shrieks.
The sound had scarcely died away when a boat, manned by natives and with
a white man seated in the stern-sheets, put off from a small, wooden
jetty beneath the fort. When within hailing distance, the man in the
stern stood up and put both hands to his mouth.
"Wie heisst das schiff?" he bawled.
"Don't get you," answered Calamity; "have another try."
"Vot schip vos dot?" bellowed the other, who was evidently some sort of
port official.
"This is the American steamer _Hawk_, Singapore for Valparaiso."
"Vy you no show your flarg?" inquired the official, his boat coming
nearer the _Hawk_ every moment.
"Sorry; if I'd known it was your birthday, guess I'd have hoisted a bit
of bunting," replied the pseudo Yankee skipper, and gave an order which
resulted in the Stars and Stripes fluttering out astern.
The reply, however, did not appear to please the official.
"You 'eave-to!" he commanded. "I vant to see your papers."
Calamity rang down "Stop," the engines ceased thudding and a couple of
men came out on deck and threw a rope-ladder over the side. A moment
later the boat came alongside and the official, a short, fat little man,
ascended the ladder with some difficulty, alighting on deck hot and
breathless. Meanwhile his coffee-coloured cox'n having made the boat
fast to a rung of the rope-ladder, sat down and lighted a cheroot.
"You vas der Captain?" asked the newcomer of Calamity, as soon as he had
recovered his breath.
"Yes."
"You must produce your papers."
"If you'll come with me, sir, I'll show them to you," answered Calamity
politely, and led the way towards his cabin.
Suddenly he stopped near the after-hatch, from which a couple of the
covers had previously been removed.
"Like to have a squint at the cargo?" he asked. "Guess it'll interest
you."
The fussy little man looked surprised at the question, but he stepped up
to the hatch, and, leaning over the combing, peered into the obscure
depths below. While he was still in this convenient attitude an
impelling force caught him in the small of the back, and he shot
downwards into the hold, alighting head foremost on a heap of
sand-ballast. Then, before he had recovered sufficiently to raise a
shout, the hatch-covers were promptly clapped on again and he was left
there in the dark to meditate on the ups and downs of a port official's
life.
Having satisfactorily disposed of this inquisitive person, Calamity
returned to the bridge and the _Hawk_ began to steam slowly past the
fort into the harbour. Two or three sentinels on the hill watched her
progress, but they having seen her boarded by one of their officials
doubtless concluded that all was well. Meanwhile Mr. Dykes had managed
to convince the dusky cox'n in the waiting boat alongside that his
master would remain on board, whereupon the man saluted, cast off the
painter, and steered his boat shorewards.
When the _Hawk_ had rounded the bend which hid the upper portion of the
harbour from view, Mr. Dykes gave vent to a sudden exclamation of
astonishment.
"Durned if that ain't our old bug-trap?"
Looking in the direction indicated by the mate, Calamity saw the pirate
gunboat beached just beyond the jetty and lying on her side, evidently
for the purpose of being repaired. His assumption, then, had been
correct: this island was a secret coaling station and place of refuge
for the very few German vessels which were still at large. However, he
made no comment aloud, and in a few more minutes the anchor was let go
and the _Hawk_ swung peacefully at her moorings.
The situation in which Calamity had voluntarily placed himself by
entering this harbour was, as he fully realised, fraught with infinite
peril. He knew that if he now attempted to escape he risked being sunk
by the guns on the fort, yet he could not remain where he was much
longer without being subjected to investigations which would result in
capture, if not worse. Under the circumstances, therefore, there was
only one thing to do, and that was to attack the fort and capture it.
This plan, viewed impartially, seemed hopelessly impossible, especially
if, as appeared highly probable, the fort were strongly garrisoned.
Still, Calamity did not hesitate between this and the only
alternative--surrender.
He sent for the two mates to whom, in a few curt sentences, he outlined
his plan of action. It was simple in the extreme, and, by reason of its
amazing boldness, might even be successful. The Germans, he argued,
though regarding the vessel with suspicion, would hardly anticipate the
landing of an armed party, which was what he contemplated. The brief
twilight would soon descend, and, the _Hawk_ being safely bottled up in
the harbour, the enemy would probably not worry much about her till the
morning; therefore the attack was to be carried out as soon as darkness
fell.
When this had been explained Calamity and his officers set about making
preparations for the landing. A party consisting of as many men as could
be packed into the ship's boats was to effect a landing under cover of
the darkness, while those left on board were to open fire on the fort
with the machine-guns directly the enemy discovered the attack. By this
means it was hoped to cover the landing operations and prevent the
defenders turning their heavier guns on the storming party. To this end
Mr. Dykes was placed in temporary command of the _Hawk_, Calamity
himself undertaking to lead the attack from the shore.
In a remarkably short space of time the preparations were complete, and
the only thing they waited for now was darkness--the swift, enveloping
darkness of the tropics.