"sail on the starboard bow, sir!"
captain cain, binoculars slung round his neck, clambered up the almost vertical teak ladder to the temporary bridge.
it was in the forenoon watch—seven bells, to be exact—of the day following the pirate captain's visit to devonport. the alerte, ploughing along at an easy five knots, was abeam and nearly five miles to the south'ard of bolt tail. all that iron-bound coast betwixt bolt head and bolt tail stood out clearly in the sunlight. to the west'ard the lower lying ground bordering bigbury bay was invisible, while to the east'ard the start was fading into the grey mists that sweep down when the cold dartmoor air mingles with the warm atmosphere of the english channel.
the mist was certainly spreading. unless captain cain was very much mistaken, soon the granite cliffs of devon would be blotted out by the watery vapour.
"i'll risk it," he decided.
at an aggregate speed of eleven knots, the alerte and the strange vessel rapidly closed. soon it was apparent that the latter was a collier; more, she was well down to plimsoll mark. from the data captain cain drew the following conclusions:
she was bound foreign. evidently she hailed from the tyne, and since the welsh coalfields supply the iron furnaces around swansea with as much coal as they want, it was as futile for a tyneside collier to carry coals to the bristol channel ports as it would be for her to carry that commodity to newcastle. she was standing too far out to be shaping a course for plymouth, while her size and draught indicated that she was not an ordinary coasting collier.
"make our number, mr. barnard!" sung out the skipper.
the "number," consisting of four flags of the international code, was already toggled ready for instant use. the first letter was h, but the combination did not appear in the pages of the list of shipping. captain cain had seen to that.
the four-flag hoist had hardly reached the halyard block when the stranger replied with her number.
"kjvt, sir," sung out mr. barnard.
reference to the list revealed the stranger to be the s.s. pickfast of newcastle, a subsequent signal, axsr, indicating that she was bound for kingston, jamaica.
the alerte's next move was to hoist her code flag over the letter "h," signifying "bring-to, i have something important to communicate." to which the collier replied by the single flag "c" indicating "yes," and at the same time altering helm and stopping her engines.
"lower away a boat, mr. pengelly," ordered captain cain. "a couple of hands below there and bring jones on deck."
in two minutes the boat, steered by pengelly and with jasper chamfer in the stern-sheets, was bounding towards the collier pickfast.
without a word, the grim northumbrian mate of the pickfast caught the heaved bowline and took a turn. as the alerte's boat swung alongside, a rope ladder was lowered to the accompaniment of an invitation to come aboard.
the pickfast's old man had descended from the bridge and was awaiting his visitors. he was a short, thick-set tynesider, with huge shoulders and bowed legs, a shrewd face and a taciturn manner.
"eh, lad!" he exclaimed, addressing pengelly. "what dost want?"
"a passage to jamaica for this man," replied pengelly, feeling that it would be a waste of time to beat about the bush. "we'll pay you fifty pounds in cash."
the old man threw a quick comprehensive glance over the little admiralty inspector. he noted also that the would-be passenger was without luggage.
"i'll ha' nowt to do wi' him," he declared bluntly. "i've no call for passengers myseen. police after him?"
"no, no," pengelly hastened to reassure him. "all aboveboard, captain. he came aboard us in a hurry, i'll admit. we were bound for new orleans, but had our orders countermanded at falmouth. jones is his name; ordered a long sea voyage for the benefit of his health. come on, captain. fifty pounds easily earned."
"coals an' bananas; them's my freight," remarked the skipper of the pickfast. "passengers aren't in my line. still, it's easy money if he'll take things as he finds 'em. all right, mr. jones, i'll take you."
and with the air of a man who has conferred a great personal favour, the captain pocketed the notes and waddled in the direction of the bridge. with equal alacrity mr. pengelly clambered over the side and dropped into the waiting boat. the painter was cast off and the collier's propeller began to churn the water.
mr. jasper chamfer had started on his involuntary voyage to jamaica.
eight hours later the alerte dropped anchor in studland bay. here she was not likely to be disturbed, nor would her presence excite much attention. since she flew no signal for a pilot, the pilots for poole harbour let her severely alone. a vessel might lie there for a week without attracting official notice, since that anchorage is frequently made use of by craft bound down channel. provided the wind kept between sou'sou'-west and north it was a secure berth, but should the wind fly round to any other point a heavy swell soon rolls into the bay, making it a matter of urgency for the vessels lying there to up-anchor and proceed.
the anchorage suited captain cain admirably. he was within a couple of hours' run of his rendezvous with the fairy, and by this time captain silas porthoustoc ought to be on his way down-channel with his cargo of arms and ammunition. until the alerte received the fairy's belgian cargo little could be done to augment the pirates' treasury.
at length the evening fixed for the meeting of the pirate ship and her tender arrived. seven in the evening, with neither moon nor stars to mitigate the darkness of a november night, the alerte weighed, gave old harry rocks a wide berth and shaped a course to carry her well clear of st. alban's head.
at ten o'clock she was at the rendezvous. the prearranged signals were made, but no reassuring reply blinked through the darkness.
midnight came and went. at 4 a.m. the middle watch was relieved, but still no sign of the motorlugger fairy.
"old porthoustoc's let us down, pengelly," declared captain cain petulantly. "he's made a lash-up of things. shouldn't be surprised to hear that he's under arrest either at dover or dunkirk."
"not he, sir," replied pengelly confidently.
both men had remained on deck all night, in their eagerness to welcome the fairy alongside. every quarter of an hour the flashing signals from the alerte stabbed the darkness, but not the suspicion of an answer was received.
there was practically no wind. it was a belated st. martin's summer. the air was warm and moist, with patches of haze sufficient to obscure the rays of anvil point light a bare twelve miles off.
"flashing light on our starboard quarter, sir!" shouted one of the hands.
"that's her, then," declared pengelly.
"what's the silly fool doing so far to the west'ard?" demanded captain cain, whose temper had not been improved by his long vigil. "port twelve, quartermaster. watch for the next flash and keep her on that."
a quarter of an hour later the two vessels met, the fairy with her canvas stowed and her motor coughing noisily.
"sorry we'm late," said silas apologetically, as the fairy was made fast alongside her big consort. "wind fell light up-along. motor jibbed sudden-like. never knowed 'un to play the fule afore. tide carried us well to loo'ard afore us could get un gwine agen."
"all right, i hope?" asked captain cain.
"ay, an' why not?" rejoined silas porthoustoc, as if the question were unnecessary, and that running a cargo of munitions was a mere bagatelle. "i'll come aboard. she'll lie nicely there," he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of the fairy, which was grinding softly against the fender-protected side of the alerte.
silas, who like many another of his fellow-fisherfolk would have related anecdotes of his wife's sister's husband's cousin or other remote connection, kept up a running fire of family history. without the slightest provocation, he would launch out details of relatives whom one never knew, never wanted to know and in all probability never did know. but when it came to what he had done he was almost as mute as an oyster. there was precious little ego in silas porthoustoc's cosmos.
"what's the matter with your hand, silas?" asked pengelly, noticing in the lamplight that the old man's left hand was encased in bloodstained bandages.
"'urt 'un," was the reply, surly and almost resentful, as if the skipper of the fairy had been called upon to make a confession of professional incompetence.
he did not think it necessary to add that the injury had been sustained thirty-six hours previously, when, in a nasty lop off the nord hinder, the precious cargo consigned to captain cain was in danger of making a swift passage to the bed of the north sea. only silas porthoustoc's prompt action in jamming the slipping sling had prevented the disaster; but it was at the expense of a crushed hand and a badly lacerated finger.
as soon as the fairy was secured alongside the alerte, the latter's foremast derricks were swung outboard with the necessary tackle rove. there were cases of automatic pistols, each weapon concealed in an air-tight tin and packed in tallow. the tins bore the name of a well-known firm of tinned beef exporters and the cases were entered in the manifest as containing pressed beef. three thousand rounds of small-arms ammunition followed, similarly disguised. then came a crate with a card nailed to it, describing its contents as a sewing-machine. it was: "it sowed death broadcast"; for on the case being broken open there was revealed a machine-gun, firing the same calibre ammunition as that of the pistols, automatic in action and air-cooled. this had been ordered as an afterthought. as that class of article went it was cheap.
the mate and the boy of the lugger next set to work to shovel aside a thick layer of coal in the fairy's hold. this done, they laid bare what appeared to be the lugger's kelson, a long, roughhewn piece of timber. under this was passed wire slings. the eyes of the slings were engaged in the hook of the lower block of the alerte's derrick-purchase.
"handsomely now, my lads!" cautioned captain cain, to the man manning the running part of the tackle. "walk back with her—here she comes."
torn from its bed of coal the huge bunch of timber rose slowly. by means of grips one end was dipped sufficiently to allow the twenty-five feet of woodwork to clear the hatchway coamings. higher and higher it rose, the fairy listing acutely during the operation, while even the alerte heeled under the strain on her masthead.
"at that!" shouted captain cain. "swing her gently, lads!"
inboard swung the derrick, its load swaying eight feet above the deck in spite of the efforts of the hands at the grips.
"ease away handsomely!" exclaimed the pirate captain. "stand from under!"
with a dull thud the baulk of timber was deposited upon the steel deck of the alerte. the slings were cast off, and while some of the hands lowered and secured the derrick, others set to work seemingly to dismember the twenty-four feet of rough pine.
it was an easy task. snugly hidden between the slabs was the much-wanted six-inch quick-firer. its mounting followed, and was immediately bolted down to the deck just abaft the rise of the fo'c'sle.
"carry on, cap'n porthoustoc," exclaimed cain, after the necessary exchange of banknotes had been effected. "look out for us on the 1st, and we'll have a rare cargo for you. chenal du four at sunset. it'll be slack water at nine."
"very good, cap'n," replied silas, touching his grizzled forelock. "us'll be there."
the warps were cast off, the fairy's motor began to cough and splutter, and ten minutes later the lugger was lost to sight in the darkness.
but the night's work was far from being accomplished as far as the alerte's crew were concerned. the six-inch quick-firer was mounted; it had to be concealed from outside observation. to attempt to screen the weapon from any one on deck would have been a senseless task. the construction of the submarine prevented that. even her conning-tower stood out gaunt and unashamed when viewed from the deck; but from another vessel that armoured structure seemed to be merged into the 'midship superstructure and bridge.
a cutter, hitherto carried abaft the 'midship deckhouse, was man-handled for'ard. unlike the other boats, it was clench-built of elm; but in order not to impede the alerte's diving capabilities, the garboard strakes had been cut away. it was a simple though lengthy task to saw through the timbers next the keel and cut through breasthook and transome, with the result that the cutter was longitudinally divided into two parts. quick-release clips of gun-metal were then fitted to keep the two portions into some resemblance of a boat. the reunited parts were then placed keel uppermost over the quick-firer, a tarpaulin being stretched over all to hide the missing garboards.
throughout the long night the hands toiled, captain cain giving practical assistance besides directing operations. he worked his men hard—he believed in it—but he never spared himself.
it wanted an hour to dawn when the task of making all snug was completed. dawn ought to reveal the alerte as a harmless tramp, her powerful ordnance stowed away under the boat. but captain cain was not satisfied.
"we'll submerge before we stand easy, lads," he shouted. "eighteen fathoms'll find bottom. diving stations, all hands!"
down sank the alerte, the tell-tale débris of splinters, shavings, an sawdust floating away as she submerged. she rested on the bottom in a very faint tideway, certainly not more than one knot. the crew piped to breakfast, completed the meal and expected a "stand easy."
they were disappointed. the alerte was to break surface before dawn, lest the operation be seen by a passing vessel. then and only then, as she cruised towards the french coast, were the hard-worked men allowed a brief spell of leisure.
"anything in sight, mr. pengelly?" sang out the captain, as he slithered over the weed-encumbered deck to the bridge-ladder.
the second in command was sweeping the horizon with his night-glasses. it was pitch dark—the period of intense darkness between the false and the true dawn.
"nothing in sight, sir!" reported pengelly.
the words were hardly out of his mouth—in fact, captain cain had not time to telegraph "easy ahead," when a loud voice, coming from close alongside, hailed:
"ship ahoy! throw us a line!"
