TREACHERY
FOR several days the _Olive Branch_ continued her headlong course
southwards, bound for the Magellan Straits, the gateway to the
Pacific.
During that time Tregarthen had little opportunity of speaking to
Captain Brookes. The little man was literally working night and day.
At length the line was crossed, without the observance of the
time-honoured custom of receiving Father Neptune and his court. Then,
as if the classic Sea God smarted under the slight, the _Olive
Branch_ encountered a terrific hurricane ere she had run clear of the
Doldrums.
It was as if the sea and sky conspired to wreak vengeance upon the
cruiser. The waves ran "mountains high," their rugged crest whipped
into clouds of spindrift by the tempestuous wind, while torrential
rain, accompanied by rapid and brilliant flashes of lightning,
blotted out the field of vision to less than a cable's length ahead.
Yet in spite of the elements the _Olive Branch_, her speed reduced to
a bare thirty knots, charged through the foaming waters. Everything
was battened down, and well it was, for instead of lifting to the
waves the cruiser dashed straight through them.
Tons of water swept her decks as far as the aftermost turret, the
spray flying in solid sheets high over her charthouse. Yet she
maintained a remarkably even keel, so that, had it been necessary,
her guns could have been fought with comparative ease.
Gerald, who, like the rest of the crew save those whose presence was
necessary in the chart-house, was compelled to remain below, could
not help admiring the steadiness with which the vessel behaved.
"Yes, she's a marvel!" assented Alec Sinclair, the first "luff."
"I don't want to alarm you, but this stability is owing to her low
metacentric height. It's only her speed that gives her safety, though
I would not give much for my life if she were caught broadside on by
one of those waves."
Fortunately these storms, though violent, are of comparatively short
duration, and, running directly across the path of a hurricane, it
was not long before the _Olive Branch_ emerged from the zone of the
tempest.
The sea still ran high, though the crests rarely broke inboard, but
the hatches were able to be unbattened, and the crew to breathe the
fresh air.
"Sail on the starboard bow!"
The officer of the watch, on hearing the hail, immediately acquainted
Captain Brookes. During the voyage several craft had been sighted,
but, with the exception of the _Puma_--which had previously been
ordered to rendezvous at a certain latitude and longitude--they had
invariably been carefully avoided. It was a matter of surprise,
therefore, that the captain ordered the cruiser's head to be turned
towards the strange vessel.
It did not take the _Olive Branch_ long to overhaul the craft, which
proved to be a German tramp steamer of about 4,000 tons. She was
rolling helplessly in the trough of the waves, alternately dipping
her topstrakes and showing the greater part of her bilge-keels, while
from her mainmast fluttered the international signal signifying that
her main shafting was broken.
Maintaining a bare steerage way the _Olive Branch_ was brought as
close to the disabled vessel as was consistent with safety, and by
the aid of a megaphone Captain Brookes expressed his intention of
giving the tramp a "pluck" into Pernambuco.
"Are you Engliche sheep of war?" asked the gold-laced Teuton in
command, knowing full well that in that case he would be freed from
the obligation of paying salvage.
"No," replied Captain Brookes, shortly.
"Den how much you want?" continued the German officer, astutely.
"The same as if this ship were a British Government vessel--nothing
at all. So stand by to get out a hawser."
The delighted skipper thereupon asked the name of the cruiser, but
Captain Brookes preferred to keep a mysterious silence. Possibly he
had ulterior motives in acting the good Samaritan, but Tregarthen was
unable to fathom them.
It was a hard task to bring the tramp's hawsers aboard the cruiser.
Twice they parted like pack-thread, but at the third attempt a strong
cable was secured to a stout "necklace" passing round the base of the
after-turret. Then, at a steady twelve knots, the _Olive Branch_
headed for Pernambuco, the disabled tramp wallowing astern like a
wounded porpoise.
[Illustration: Bending over the instrument was a young officer, his
head practically covered with a metal cap fitted with receivers.]
"We can now complete our tour of inspection," remarked Captain
Brookes, "since the presence of yonder craft interferes somewhat with
our preparations. Bring Mr. Stockton with you."
"Very good, sir," replied Gerald, and in a few minutes the captain
and his two _protégés_ were descending the steep iron ladder that
communicated with that part of the ship below the armoured deck.
Being below the water-line the place was lighted by electric lamps,
while every bulkhead and partition was traversed by a maze of wires,
hidden by metal casings, each painted in distinctive colours.
At length Captain Brookes stopped before a sliding steel door and
beckoned Gerald and Jack to enter. The two chums found themselves in
a small lobby, their progress barred by a door similar to the one
they had just entered. Carefully closing the outermost door their
guide proceeded to slide back the other panel, disclosing a small
room lighted only by the fitful bluish sparks emanating from an
electrical machine. Bending over the instrument was a young officer,
his head practically covered by a metal cap fitted with receivers
similar to those worn by telephone exchange operatives.
"This is our wireless room," said the captain, raising his voice to
make it audible above the succession of sharp reports like the crack
of a whip. "No overhead gear to be carried away in action or in a
gale; our wireless messages are received by an electrical current
passing through water. The apparatus is merely an extension of the
submarine signalling system. We are in touch with our agents at
Swanage in England, Plougastel in Brittany, Cape Cod in the U.S.A.,
and ere long with Sydney, N.S.W., and Antofagasta in Chili. Thus we
are well informed of events that are likely to call for our
intervention."
"Then that is how you learned the result of your experiments with the
_Zietan_, is it not?" asked Tregarthen.
"A shrewd guess, only it happens to be wrong," replied Captain
Brookes. "However, I'll enlighten you on this point."
From the wireless room he led the way for'ard, between walls of steel
that doubtless contained more wonders of mechanical triumph. Passing
the cable lockers he dived down a narrow hatchway, leading still
deeper into the bowels of the ship, till he arrived at the door of a
wedge-shaped room corresponding with the bow of the vessel. Here was
a table on which were several electrical coils and a pair of dials
resembling galvanometers.
"Here you are," continued the captain. "What do you make of this
contrivance?"
"I cannot say," replied Gerald, still nettled by the failure of his
previous conjecture.
"That apparatus gives us warning when we are passing over a submarine
cable. It used to be an accepted fact that the insulation of our deep
sea cables is so perfect that the 'leakage' is infinitesimal, but by
this instrument we can detect their presence in any depth down to one
hundred fathoms. This done, it is a comparatively simple matter to
grapple for the cable, hoist it to the surface and tap it. The great
disadvantage is that the ship must be brought almost to a standstill
to enable the 'detector' to act, and, of course, wholly so while the
wire is being brought on board."
"Then you tapped the Borkum and Lowestoft cable--I remember the
newspaper report stated that it was interrupted."
"No, I did not. If anything went wrong with that cable it was merely
a coincidence. What would be the use of tapping a cable if by so
doing it was made useless for transmitting messages? No, it was the
Middlekerke and Dumpton Gap lines we took on board, and consequently
heard the whole of the business concerning the _Zietan_, and a
considerable amount of other intelligence as well. Now I think you
have seen all that there is to be seen for the present," continued
Captain Brookes, after the engine-room had been inspected. "There is
one more marvel, on which I pride myself not a little, but until the
finishing touches are completed it would be better to say nothing
about it. Some day, and at no distant date, I hope to enlighten you
on that subject."
"One question I should like to ask--I hope you will not think me
impertinent or unduly inquisitive--that is, where did you obtain your
officers?"
The captain pursed his lips for a few moments before replying. "They
are, for the most part, gentlemen," he observed. "But, unfortunately,
they have fallen in the social scale, and wish to regard their past
as a closed book. I can tell you of a few cases, though, of course,
in strict confidence. Mr. Palmer, one of our lieutenants, for
example, was but a few years ago a commander in the Royal Navy. Ran
his vessel full tilt on the rocks, was court-martialled, and
'smashed.' As far as his friends are concerned, Palmer--though that
is not his real name--is supposed to be away for a three-years' tour
in the Rockies. Then there's White, the surgeon--also an _alias_, by
the bye. He was a well-known country doctor with a good practice till
he fell foul of a coroner's court over some trivial detail. It broke
him as far as England was concerned."
"And the men?"
"Are mostly the discarded victims of the British Admiralty's short
service system, with a sprinkling of merchant seamen who have been
ousted by cheap and inferior foreigners."
"Are you not afraid that some of them will desert and reveal the
secret of the _Olive Branch_?"
"It matters little so long as they do not desert in a body; but,
thanks to the condition under which they are engaged, I do not
anticipate any trouble in that direction. No man is acquainted with
the whole of this vessel's mechanism. Even the officers' duties are
not entirely interchangeable. For instance, Sinclair, the gunnery
Jack, would be helpless on the Z-rays; Taylor--oh! I have forgotten
something, after all. With the load of responsibility on my shoulders
it's a wonder that I am not even more forgetful. There's Taylor, the
scientist; he runs the laboratory with Guy Temple as his assistant. I
have not yet shown you his sanctum."
The laboratory was a spacious apartment on the starboard side of the
base of the fore-turret, with a hatchway communicating with the orlop
deck. In one corner was a wide bench covered with test tubes,
retorts, and similar articles used in chemistry, while on the floor
were ranged nearly a hundred cylinders.
"Where's Mr. Taylor?" asked Captain Brookes, of an alert young
officer who was engaged in some experiment of scientific research.
"I have not seen him during the last two hours, sir."
"H'm!"
"Shall I send for him, sir?"
"No, it does not matter particularly. Now, Mr. Tregarthen. Here are
the explosive charges for the 6in. shells. The projectiles are
discharged with Whaddite, an improved form of cordite, but what do
you think is the composition of the bursting charges? I'll tell you;
it's liquid air. With this explosive a 6in. is more deadly than a
thirteen point five shell charged with lyddite. No armour plate can
withstand it. Directly we have parted company with the tramp we have
in tow, I'll give a demonstration of its power."
The captain's words were interrupted by the appearance of a
lieutenant, pale-faced in spite of his tanned complexion, and
evidently labouring under suppressed excitement.
"Sir," he exclaimed. "Will you come on deck? The officer of the watch
has sent me to say that there's treachery aboard the _Olive Branch_."
"Oh, is that so?" asked Captain Brookes, calmly, then turning to
Tregarthen he requested him to accompany him to the quarter-deck.
"Well, Mr. Sinclair," exclaimed the captain as the officer of the
watch hurried to meet him. "What's amiss?"
"I observed someone in that vessel astern signalling from the shelter
of the bridge, sir," he explained. "I couldn't make out the message,
and judging by the manner in which they signalled I took it for
granted that the sender wished to avoid outside attention. When I
strolled aft the flag-wagging ceased, so I sent Mr. Weeks to your
cabin to investigate. He informs me that Mr. Taylor is in the
stern-walk and is signalling to yonder German."
"How could he gain the stern walk without attracting the attention of
the sentry on the half-deck?"
"I believe, sir, that he slipped over the rail when no one was
looking, lowered himself to the canopy of the gallery, and thence to
the stern-walk; that's a comparatively easy matter."
"Very good, Mr. Sinclair; carry on as if nothing were amiss."
Thereupon Captain Brookes made for the shelter of the after-turret,
whence from the sighting-hood he could command an uninterrupted view
of the German vessel without being observed.
"Can you understand German?" he asked.
"Fairly well, sir," replied Gerald.
"Then see what you can make of that," pointing to the rapidly waving
flag. "I shall require corroboration."
"'_Make an attempt to leave the ship tonight; we will be awaiting
you,_'" read Gerald.
"That's it," assented Captain Brookes. "They've finished for the
present; but I've learnt enough."
[Illustration: chapter IX]