The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Compound

  At the conclusion of the pirate lieutenant's speech silence fell uponthe close ranks of the prisoners. Porfirio conferred with hissubordinates for some moments, then, turning abruptly, walked down tothe _Malfilio's_ boat. Henriques accompanied him; but Strogoff, whohad been told off to remain as a sort of deputy-governor of theisland, stood in the centre of the hollow square, his dark eyesclosely scrutinizing the faces of his captives.

  Presently he shouted:

  "Place all the luggage on the ground."

  The "luggage" for the most part consisted of handkerchiefs containingthe men's scanty and hurriedly-collected kit. Two or three of theofficers had brought small handbags, while the purser had taken theprecaution of landing a portable medicine-chest.

  "You have been searched for arms?" inquired the pirate lieutenant,addressing Branscombe, and without waiting for that worthy's reply hecontinued: "Goot; we will now the luggage search."

  It was not a lengthy business. One of the guards undertook theexamination of the kit, while Strogoff watched the proceedings. Sincethere was little of value, nothing was taken with the exception ofshaving- and looking-glasses, razors, and scissors.

  The prisoners, preceded and followed by armed guards, were thenmarched off. For a hundred yards or so they kept to the sandy beachuntil they arrived at a cleft in the precipitous cliffs, that hadbeen invisible when viewed from the deck of the _Donibristle_. It wasmore than a cleft, it was a narrow, steeply ascending defile, and theonly means of gaining the interior of the island from the harbour.Enclosed by bare walls of rock, never more than twelve feet apart,the path ascended by a series of zigzags, until at a distance of afurlong from the seaward entrance a natural barrier of graniteterminated the gorge. Here, piercing the cliffs at right angles tothe path, was a tunnel, the work of man's hands, driven through thesolid rock. Defended by machine-guns, the gateway to the island coulddefy an army corps.

  During German occupation the tunnel had been electrically lighted.The bayonet-sockets of the long-destroyed bulbs were still inposition, while here and there broken insulated wire protruded fromthe rusted iron castings.

  By the aid of torches made of resinous wood the guards illuminatedthe tunnel, through which a strong in-draught of warm air caused thelights to flicker and smoke.

  On the principle that "you never know your luck", Burgoyne kept hiseyes well open, studying the nature of the approach to the interior.One of the first objects that attracted his attention was a metalportcullis. It was already drawn up, and only a foot or so of thelower portion projected below the roof of the tunnel. Since nowinding mechanism was visible, he concluded that above the tunnel wasa large hall or cave, from which control of the portcullis andobservation of the approach through the gorge could be made.

  When about one-third of the inclined subterranean passage had beentraversed, Burgoyne noticed that the wall on one side was runningwith moisture, and presently he saw an iron plate, about two feet indiameter, set in a metal frame and secured by six butterfly-nuts. Itwas obviously a valve, the seating of which was by no meanswater-tight, for two or three fine sprays were spurting diagonallyacross the tunnel, and forming miniature rainbows in the glare of thetorches. As it was an inaccessible spot for a hydrant, Burgoyneformed the idea that the water formed part of the defences of thetunnel, and, if necessary, could either inundate the lowermost partor else set up an irresistible torrent against which no human beingcould stand.

  Presently daylight showed ahead. The guards extinguished theirtorches by dashing them on the ground, and stacked the still-smokingwood in a niche in the wall of the tunnel. Passing under anotherportcullis, and turning sharp to the right through an inclinedgulley, the prisoners arrived in the open air on the high land of thesecret base.

  Here they were halted. A pirate with the air of one havingauthority--he was equivalent to a barrack-master--carefully countedthe prisoners, and began picking out a few at haphazard. Those hechose were subjected to a minute search, but luckily there wasnothing found on them in the nature of arms or ammunition. Presentlyhe stood still with his horny hand raised as if about to bring itdown upon Hilda Vivian's shoulder.

  The officers of the _Donibristle_ were bringing up the rear of thecolumn of prisoners, but behind were six of the pirates. ConsequentlyBurgoyne was close to the girl, only the purser being between them.Alwyn saw Hilda shrink back. It was only a slight movement butnevertheless perceptible.

  "That's done it!" muttered the Third Officer, striving in vain tothink of a hurried plan whereby he might be able to save the girlwithout arousing instant and fatal suspicion.

  But a _deus ex machina_ had turned up at the critical moment. BlackStrogoff, who had not accompanied the prisoners, had just emergedfrom the tunnel, and his imperious harsh voice was shouting for oneFernando. The barrack-master turned on hearing his name called andhastened to his superior.

  When at length Strogoff dismissed the fellow the immediate danger wasover. There was no further attempt to search the prisoners, but oncemore Burgoyne realized that there were limits even to the vagaries offate, and that the presence of Hilda Vivian was causing complicationsthat indicated more trouble at no distant date.

  His anxiety was shared by the rest of his comrades. Up to thepresent, apart from the gruelling they had received during theone-sided engagement resulting in the capture of the _Donibristle_,they hadn't much to complain about. In fact it was rather amusing andexciting, this adventure, were it not that they were saddled with theresponsibility of concealing the sex and identity of a young andpretty girl.

  The march was resumed, the prisoners moving in fours with theirguards on either flank and in front and rear of the column. The routelay over fairly regular grassland that for nearly half a mile rosegradually. Well on their left was a grove of coco-palms, otherwisethe island seemed devoid of growing timber. Ahead lay a rounded hill,towering about two hundred feet above the general level of theplateau, while to the right were a number of wooden huts where thepirates lived when not required to be afloat.

  There were other buildings that served as workshops. The pulsationsof petrol motors, the rasp of circular saws, and the rapid beat of apneumatic riveting-tool, clearly indicated the purpose to which thesebuildings were put. And Burgoyne had good reason to believe that theworkmen were prisoners, since there were armed guards lolling aboutoutside the doors.

  As the _Donibristle's_ men continued their enforced march, theypassed patches of cultivated land and enclosed portions of pasture onwhich cattle and sheep browsed. There were men working in the fields,scantily-clad, bronzed and bearded fellows, who waved their hands tothe new-comers. Some of them shouted greetings, but the distance wastoo far for the words to be audible.

  "They're from the _Alvarado_ and _Kittiwake_, I guess," remarked PhilBranscombe. "So it looks as if we shall be on the same lay beforelong. Did you notice they've all grown magnificent whiskers?"

  "Aye," replied Burgoyne. "Couldn't help noticing that. 'Bearded likea pard' as Will Shakespeare wrote."

  "And we'll be in the same boat if we're here long enough," continuedBranscombe drily. "The blighters have collared our shaving-tackle.I've reason to believe my beard's red. What colour is yours, oldman?"

  He paused, deep in thought. Burgoyne made no reply. He, too, wasthinking.

  "By Jove!" continued the Fourth Officer. "I said 'we'll all begrowing beards'. What about Miss Vivian? Won't that give the showaway?"

  "Yes," agreed Alwyn gravely. "We aren't having amateur theatricals.The false beard stunt wouldn't work. They'd twig it."

  "We'll think of some wheeze, old man," rejoined Branscombe. "There'stime yet, although I'm not one to shelve a proposition until it's toolate."

  He caressed his chin, already showing four days' growth of softreddish down.

  "An' they collared our shaving-mirrors," he continued. "Wonder what Ilook like now? What was the idea?"

  "'Spose they thought we'd use them as heliographs," conjecturedBurg
oyne. "As for the razors, perhaps they've seen a nigger run amokwith one. I did once. It was in New Orleans, and the fellow raisedCain till he was scuppered."

  "But why safety-razors?" persisted Branscombe. Then, pointing to afence, he changed the subject by exclaiming: "And there's home sweethome, my festive!"

  The prisoners had now breasted the low ridge that, without takinginto consideration the isolated hill, formed the dividing ridge ofthe island. Right ahead they could see the north-western part of thesea-girt base, terminated on three sides of an irregularquadri-lateral by tall cliffs. The fourth or landward side wasenclosed by a lofty metal fence, made of pointed steel bars paintedwith the familiar "dazzle" affected by ships and fortificationsduring the Great War. In the fence was a large gate, on either sideof which was a blockhouse on a slight artificial mound, with a pairof machine-guns so mounted as to command the whole of the enclosedspace. Within the barrier was a conglomeration of huts, tents, andrough shelters, the whole forming the compound where the _Malfilio's_captives spent their scanty hours of rest and slumber.

  Between the two blockhouses a halt was called, and the prisoners wereagain counted. Although no attempt was made to search any of them,they were evidently meant to be kept under strict surveillance, sincethe pirates had taken the precaution of counting them in spite of thefact that they had been under an armed guard during their journeyacross the island. That boded ill for any adventurous individual whofelt tempted to escape.

  Through the gateway the new arrivals were herded. Then they were toldto halt and kept waiting until Strogoff appeared, riding on amotor-cycle of American manufacture and recent make. He had unbuckledhis sword and lashed it to the frame, and the fact that indismounting he had forgotten it and had got considerably mixed upwith the scabbard did not improve his temper.

  "Listen!" he shouted to the prisoners, who were concealing theirhilarity under a wooden-faced demeanour. "In two hours you will beready for work. Four men will be cookers--I mean, cooks. Twelve usedto engines will go to the smiths-shop. The rest to the fields. Theofficers responsible will be for the good work and behaviour of themen. At six o'clock--not one minute in advance--you knock off andreturn to compound. No use to give trouble."

  He pointed meaningly in the direction of the machine-guns.

  "We have wounded officers and men with us," protested Burgoyne.

  Black Strogoff waved his hand deprecatingly.

  "The cookers--no, cooks--they can look to the sick men," he replied."Do you not think you will have so much to eat that four men take alltheir time to get it ready? If you want to know more ask the_Kittiwake_ captain. You waste time," he added meaningly. "Only onehour fifty minutes more."

  The pirate lieutenant signed to two of his men to bring along therecumbent motor-cycle; then, followed by the guards, he strode to thegate, conscious of a rapidly swelling bump on both of his shins.

  "Let's get a move on, lads!" exclaimed Burgoyne cheerfully. "We'vegot to find a place to sling our hammocks and get ourselves sortedout. We'll have to lie low for a bit until we find our feet, I'mthinking."

  At first sight it seemed as if the huts were untenanted, butpresently in one corner of the compound Burgoyne noticed smokearising in a thin cloud in the still air.

  "Stand easy!" he ordered. "Mr. Holmes, you might come with me andinterview the people tending that fire."

  As Burgoyne and the purser approached they found that the fire wasburning in the centre of a roofless, three-sided canvas screen.Voices raised in heated argument could be heard above the cracklingof the burning logs. The men were evidently unaware that there werenew-comers to the compound.

  "D'ye call that the proper way?" demanded a deep voice. "You aren'tin a land of plenty, sonny, and don't you forget it."

  "I've allus cut one up like this afore, sir," replied a rathersubdued voice.

  "Then you waste half of it," continued the first speaker withasperity. "Seeing we only get one sheep a week 'tween the lot of us,it'll have to go a jolly sight further, Sammy, or you'll be lookingfor another job."

  Warned by a look on the face of the culprit, the deep-voiced manwheeled abruptly and saw Burgoyne and the purser standing by the openside of the screen.

  "What, more of them?" he exclaimed, glancing at the marks of rank onthe Third Officer's torn and dirty drill uniform. "Glad to meet you,present circumstances notwithstanding. My name's Davis, Cap'n Davis,master of the S.S. _Kittiwake_. What's your tally?"

  Burgoyne told him and introduced the purser.

  "Come along to my cabin," continued Captain Davis. "Sorry I can'toffer you a drink 'cept water. I'm on the sick list or you wouldn'thave found me. I'm usually killing time in these black-beardedrogues' smithy."

  "That's where I shall probably be soon," rejoined Burgoyne. "In anhour and three-quarters, I expect. So I'm in a bit of a hurry. Ithought you could put me up to a tip as to how to billet my men."

  "How many?"

  Alwyn told him.

  "H'm. Yours was a lump of a ship. But there's plenty of room here. Wewere practically the first-comers, so we had the pick, so to speak.The _Alvarado's_ people took the next best in the matter of site. Wedon't mix much, 'cause they're Yankees who don't cotton on toBritishers much. So we keep ourselves to ourselves. Now, how willthis little lot suit you?"