A PRISONER ON THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP
AT the moment of impact Gerald strove to ward off the oncoming vessel
with the unwieldy oar, but the blade found no holding-place against
the wet, heaving bows of the leviathan of destruction. Then, with the
carrying away of the mast, a block hurtling through the air struck
him a terrific blow over the head. Thousands of white lights flashed
across his vision as he found himself lying in the already flooded
cockpit; yet in his state of partial insensibility he was dimly
aware that Jack had seized him round the waist.
With a powerful heave Stockton literally threw his friend into the
dinghy, which had meanwhile floated alongside the yacht. Then,
springing into the little cockleshell, he whipped out his knife, and
with a swift sweep severed the painter. Not a moment too soon.
The colliding vessel had already stopped, and was gathering sternway.
The withdrawal of the sharp, wedge-shaped bows from the shattered
yacht caused the water to pour in with redoubled violence, and in a
smother of bubbles and foam the _Playmate_ plunged downwards to her
last resting-place.
Jack Stockton seized the oars, which fortunately had been left in the
dinghy, and rowed desperately towards the craft that had been the
cause of the disaster. Already she was a mere blur in the fog; once
lost sight of, the position of the two occupants of the dinghy,
adrift in mid-Channel without food or water, would be perilous in the
extreme.
Beyond the first hail perfect silence had been maintained on board
the huge grey vessel. As Jack gradually gained on her--for the
engines had apparently been reversed only for a few revolutions--a
rope was flung dexterously over his head. This he made fast to the
dinghy's bow-ring, and in absolute silence another coil descended
from the lofty fo'c'sle.
Deftly Jack passed a bight round his friend's body just below the
arms, and like a sack of flour Gerald was hoisted upwards. This much
Tregarthen remembered, though but dimly, and on gaining the deck he
lost consciousness.
When the young sub-lieutenant opened his eyes he found himself lying
in the uppermost of two bunks in a small yet conveniently arranged
cabin.
"Where the dickens am I?" he murmured, drowsily.
He sat up, and at once discovered that the pyjama suit he was wearing
was not his own; then he became aware that his head was throbbing
painfully, and on raising his hand to the aching place his fingers
encountered a strip of plaster.
Then the details of the collision flashed across his mind, and the
anxious question rose to his lips: "Where's Jack?"
Steadying himself by grasping the rounded edge of the bunk, Gerald
leant sideways. The effort nearly caused him to lose his balance, but
the result of his investigations showed that the lower bunk was
unoccupied.
For the space of quite five minutes the injured officer lay still,
striving to collect his thoughts as to where and when he last saw his
late companion.
Above the centre of the top bunk was an open scuttle, through which
the salt-laden breeze whistled like a youthful whirlwind. From where
he lay Tregarthen could see that the thickness of the vessel's side
at this opening was at least 7ins.--a truly enormous size for the
plating of any but a powerful war vessel, and even then it was
unusual to continue the armoured belt so far above the water-line.
Curiosity prompted the sub-lieutenant to essay another change of
position. This time he met with better success, and was able to look
through the narrow, circular aperture.
[Illustration: The mast snapped off close to the deck, and a block,
hurtling through the air, struck Gerald a terrific blow over the
head.]
His eyes dilated with astonishment. The fog had completely vanished,
and the sun shone brilliantly from an unclouded sky upon the deep
blue waters. But the change in the atmospheric conditions was not the
cause of the young officer's surprise; it was the apparent motion of
the water.
Without the faintest suspicion of a bow-wave--at least as far as
Tregarthen could judge--the huge vessel was tearing through the sea
at a terrific rate. Taking into consideration the height of the
scuttle above the sea-level, Gerald came to the conclusion that the
craft was a cruiser of the largest type, yet in spite of her size he
estimated her speed at not less than forty-five knots. The _Calder_,
lightly built as she was, could not attain that rate, her greatest
pace being a good thirty-eight knots. And with this extraordinary
speed there was a total absence of vibration or noise, save the
howling of the wind caused by the vessel's own motion, while the
faint pulsation of the engines, that had first betrayed her presence
in the fog, had entirely ceased.
Then Tregarthen made another discovery. The mysterious vessel was, as
far as he could judge by the position of the sun, heading nearly
south-west. That meant that, willing or unwilling, he was being
spirited away from the shores of Old England at a phenomenal
speed--but whither?
Gerald next proceeded to make a systematic investigation of the
cabin; but there was nothing to indicate the nationality or nature of
the vessel that had effected his rescue. He had an idea that she was
a British craft, as the only hail was given in his native tongue; but
he had heard the officers of German and Dutch vessels give orders in
perfectly good English to pilots and boatmen in home waters.
Besides the double bunks there were a portable wash-hand basin, a
bath slung from the ceiling, a small chest of drawers, a couple of
cane-seated chairs, and a looking-glass. On one of the chairs were
his clothes, in a perfectly dry condition.
With considerable effort he managed to dress; then, staggering
towards the door, he threw it open.
To his great surprise he saw a sentry standing without. He was a
tall, burly-looking sailor, dressed in a uniform somewhat resembling
that of a British seaman, although the blue jean collar was of a
deeper shade, and black tape replaced the white ornamentation worn in
the Royal Navy. The man had no name on his cap-ribbon, but a device
representing a leaf upon his right arm. A black leather bandolier
encircled his waist, a cutlass taking the place of a bayonet. He
carried "at the slope" a rifle of a similar pattern to the latest
form of Lee-Enfield, except that the stock was terminated 6ins. from
the muzzle, which was enclosed at that end by a metal cylinder of
about 3ins. in diameter. A portion of this cylinder was flattened,
apparently for the purpose of using the sights.
This much Tregarthen took in at a glance, but with a peremptory
gesture the man indicated that all egress was debarred. There was
nothing to do but to obey the mute instructions. Gerald retreated to
the cabin, and immediately he heard the sound of a key being turned
in the lock. He was a prisoner.
Gerald--too much astonished to concentrate his thoughts--sat down in
complete bewilderment. The tragic events of the ill-fated cruise, the
mysterious nature of the vessel that had rescued him, the unsolved
problem of his friend's disappearance, and finally the ignominy of
being held in captivity, crowded in upon his already aching brain.
Then an irresistible desire to smoke came over him. He felt in his
pocket for his pipe, till, remembering that he had left it in the
cabin of the _Playmate_, he bethought him of his cigarette-case,
fervently hoping that its contents had escaped damage from the
sea-water. To his surprise he found the case filled with a different
kind to those he was accustomed to. Evidently his captors meant to
allow him every comfort.
Without compunction he began to explore the contents of the chest of
drawers. With one exception they proved to be empty, and, what was
more, evidently new and unused. In the top drawer, however, was a
case containing a brush and comb and shaving materials--also in a
perfectly new condition.
In the midst of his investigations the door was unlocked, and, with a
preliminary knock, a little, alert-looking man attired in a neat and
well-fitting uniform entered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Tregarthen," he exclaimed. "I trust you are
feeling better? My name is White, at your service, and I am the
senior surgeon on board."
"Thanks, sir, I am feeling nearly fit. But might I ask what ship is
this, and why I am kept under lock and key?"
The doctor shook his head deprecatingly.
"I regret I can give you no information on that point. You must, I am
afraid, wait till you have seen the captain."
"But my friend--is he safe?"
"He is safe."
"And----"
"No more questions, if you please, Mr. Tregarthen," interrupted the
surgeon, firmly, and in a manner that betokened the uselessness of
further inquiries. "Meanwhile, before the captain sends for you, some
light refreshment will doubtless be beneficial. I am pleased to see
that you are little the worse for your misfortunes."
So saying the medico withdrew, and a steward silently entered the
cabin, bearing a tray on which an appetising meal was tastefully
spread.
This man was even more unsociable than the doctor, and with as few
words as possible he left the cabin, the door being again locked.
Left once more to his own reflections Tregarthen acknowledged that
the mystery was almost as dark as before. He had made two
discoveries. Firstly, Jack Stockton was safe on board, though
possibly a prisoner like himself. Secondly, the ship was more than
likely manned by a British-speaking crew, but whether British or
American Gerald was unable to say.
At length the sun sank beneath the horizon--a red ball of flaming
fire in an indigo sky.
Gerald glanced at his watch. It was a half-hunter, and the
well-fitting case had not admitted any water during his immersion The
hands pointed to a quarter to seven.
Here was another mystery. He knew full well that at home the sun set
at 7.15 p.m. The ship's course was, as far as he could judge,
south-west. How, then, could the apparent discrepancy be accounted
for? Perhaps his watch was wrong.
Anxiously Tregarthen waited, listening intently for the ship's bell.
Punctually at seven--the second hour of the second dogwatch--came the
dim sound of the bell--_ting, ting--ting!_ Two sharp blows followed
at a longer interval by another. His watch was right, then, and since
the course was not easterly he could only conclude that by a hitherto
unattainable speed the mysterious vessel had already gained a
latitude corresponding to that of the Bay Of Biscay.
Ere the short twilight deepened into night the cabin was brightly
illuminated by the warm glow of a pair of electric lights, one at the
middle of each bulkhead.
"Well, there's nothing to amuse myself with, so I might as well turn
in," thought Gerald, for the excitement of the day, coupled with the
fact that he had had but a short spell of sleep the previous night,
was beginning to tell. He was on the point of divesting himself of
his clothing when the door was unlocked, and a young man evidently an
officer, entered.
"The captain wishes to see you, sir," he announced, bringing his hand
to his forehead with professional smartness.
[Illustration: chapter V]