"here's a fine lash-up!" remarked broadmayne to his chum. "we look like getting it in the neck. i won't give much for our chances if our destroyers take up the chase. cain, or whatever his name is, may be a very clever and cunning rogue, but he's bitten off more then he can chew."
"it's rough luck on us," rejoined vyse. "i don't hanker after the idea of being sent to davy jones's locker by a british destroyer."
"pro bono publico," quoted the sub. "however, we must make the best of things and trust to luck. give me half a chance and my name's johnny walker as far as this hooker is concerned."
the chums were having a breather on deck before turning in. seven miles to the nor'west the wolf light was sending out its red and white flashes. the alerte, most of her scars patched, was making towards the scillies; but whether captain cain intended to use one of the numerous and secluded channels between the islands as a hiding-place, was a matter for speculation as far as broadmayne and his companion were concerned.
gerald and rollo had worked hard during the day. that, no one could deny. during the action with the surcouf they had remained passive spectators, taking refuge behind the conning-tower when the frenchman's shells began to rip the alerte's upper works. but when they saw the two men with the machine-gun topple headlong, they had made a simultaneous rush to the assistance of the badly-wounded men. this they did with a clear conscience. there was nothing in the act that could be construed as aiding and abetting the pirates in an unlawful act.
nor did they hesitate to tend the other wounded members of the crew. strangely enough, with all his elaborate preparations, captain cain had either neglected or purposely omitted to provide adequate surgical and medical stores, and in consequence the less severely wounded suffered terribly through lack of instruments and ether-chloroform. it was a painful business both to the wounded men and their unqualified surgeons to have to extract jagged slivers of metal without even the application of local anaesthetics. all the sub and his companion could do was to cleanse the wounds with warm water and iodine, and bind them with rough-and-ready bandages that from an antiseptic point of view would have made a medical man shudder.
broadmayne had completed his self-imposed task and was going on deck, when he encountered his late antagonist.
the ex-stoker's battered features wore a broad grin. extending a huge hand, he greeted the sub with a hearty shake.
"put it there, chum!" he exclaimed. "i was whacked proper. i'd like to know where you learnt that punch! an' don't you forget it: if ever you wants a friend, 'sides the one you've got already, jim soames—slogger soames—is the man."
"we're getting on," observed broadmayne, when he related the incident to vyse. "that fellow isn't a bad sort. wonder how he came to row on this galley. and several of the crew seem quite well disposed towards us. we might work it."
"work what?" asked rollo.
"induce some of them to put us ashore," replied the sub.
"bit risky," observed his chum. "not on our account," he added. "that i don't mind. it would be hard on those fellows if they were found out. cain seems a bit of a tartar."
"he may be," admitted broadmayne. "but he hasn't much of a hold over his men. and i fancy, although i'm not sure, that pengelly and he are parting brass rags. that conversation we overheard—about the cave behind a kitchen somewhere—struck me as if cain and his lieutenant don't hit it off together."
"well, cain won't truss us up for a flogging after the licking you gave soames," remarked vyse. "i don't mind admitting i felt a bit on the scared-stiff side when the bo'sun began playing with his cat-o'-nine-tails. and cain hasn't turned us into pirates yet."
"and never will," added the sub. "hello, we're altering course. what's the game now?"
the alerte was no longer heading towards the scillies. she had ported helm and was now making in the direction of land's end. she was showing her proper navigation lights and was fussing along just like any tramp bound up-channel.
it was a dark and clear night. although the sky was overcast and no stars were visible, there was a total absence of fog. it was easy to pick up the numerous lights marking the "chops of the channel." even the flash of the lizard—thirty miles away—could be observed, although under ordinary conditions its visibility extends over a radius of twenty-one miles only.
"there'll be a gale before very long," declared the sub. "the excessive clearness of the lower atmosphere is a sure sign of that. the alerte will have to seek shelter somewhere.... how about turning-in? i'm dog-tired. it's no use remaining on deck."
to this suggestion vyse readily agreed. he, too, was very sleepy. not since they left fowey had they had a good night's rest.
on the bridge were captain cain, pengelly, and a couple of hands. another was at the wheel, while the customary look-out was stationed for'ard. all the rest of the crew were below.
both the captain and his lieutenant were well conversant with this part of the dangerous cornish coast. in fact, although there was a chart on the chart-room table, neither of the two officers took the trouble to consult it.
presently captain cain turned to one of the hands and ordered him to lower the masthead lamp. it was the pirate skipper's intention to take the narrow, intricate channel between land's end and the longships; the absence of the masthead lamp would give the lighthouse-keeper the impression that the alerte was a small sailing craft. thus he hoped to weather cape cornwall and seek refuge on the bed of st. ives bay until the threatening gale had blown itself out.
giving the dangerous brisons a wide berth, the alerte opened out pendeen light. so far so good. it was now close on low water and no vessel would be entering or leaving st. ives harbour for the next four hours.
"vessel dead ahead, sir!" reported the lookout.
captain cain uttered an oath. he wanted to arrive at the desired position he had chosen for purposes of submersion without meeting craft of any description. here were the red, white and green lights of a steam vessel almost bows on to the alerte.
he ported his helm. the other vessel did likewise. each now showed the other her red and white navigation lamps, for on rounding cape cornwall the alerte had rehoisted hers. there was no danger of collision, but the two would pass far too close to captain cain's liking.
suddenly the dazzling beam of a searchlight leapt from the stranger's bridge. for fifteen seconds—no more—it played upon the alerte, throwing masts, funnel and upperworks into strong relief. then it vanished.
"destroyer!" exclaimed pengelly.
"let's hope she's satisfied," rejoined captain cain grimly, as he blinked at the sudden transition from the brilliant electric light to the darkness of the night. "no, curse her! she's turning."
a flashing-lamp began its preparatory blinks from the destroyer's bridge.
"what ship is that?" it inquired.
"reply memnon of bristol," ordered cain, addressing the signalman, who with ready presence of mind had fetched the aldis flashing lamp from the chart-room.
the destroyer's response was a curt invitation to stop. "i'll send a boat to examine your papers," added the message.
"by thunder you won't!" muttered captain cain, ringing the engine-room telegraph for "stop." "all hands below as sharp as greased lightning," he ordered. "mr. pengelly, warn the duty men to prepare for diving stations. i'll be with you in a brace of shakes."
both the destroyer and the supposed tramp were losing way; the former, owing to her heavier displacement and narrow beam, having to reverse her engines in order to prevent herself overrunning the alerte.
captain cain could hear the squeaking of blocks as the destroyer's boat was being lowered. he was rather dubious about the step he proposed taking. he estimated, although he had not taken soundings, that the alerte was in eleven fathoms, with a sandy bottom. in the absence of electrically propelled motors, the submarine had either to go up or go down. she could not maintain a midway depth, for although fitted with compensating tanks, these alone, without the assistance of the horizontal rudders—which were useless unless the submarine were making way—would fail to keep her at a constant depth. should the soundings prove much greater than he expected, the alerte's hull might be unable to withstand the enormous pressure of water. if, on the other hand, the depth were considerably less, then the alerte's mastheads would show above the surface, since there was no time to lower them before submerging.
the creaking of oars announced that the destroyer's boat had pushed off and was heading for the supposed memnon. again the dazzling searchlight was unscreened. there was no time to be lost.
descending the bridge at breakneck speed, captain cain ran to the after-end of the conning-tower. here, stowed in an air-tight box, was the smoke-producing apparatus used in conjunction with the dummy funnel to give the effect of a vessel with steam, propelled engines. in the same compartment were several explosive rockets.
disconnecting the pipe that conveyed the smoke to the base of the funnel the pirate captain laid the nozzle on the deck. then, hastily securing one of the rockets to a stanchion, he ignited the touchpaper.
the moment the detonator exploded, captain cain released the smoke cloud, descended the hatchway, and closed the water-tight cover.
"flood ballast tanks!" he shouted.
three minutes later, the alerte sank on practically an even keel to the bed of st. ives bay. the depth gauge registered eleven and a quarter fathoms, which meant that at high tide she would be lying in eighty-seven feet—sufficient to immerse the trucks of the masts to a depth of twenty-eight feet.
"that's done them!" exclaimed captain cain exultantly to his second in command.
"unless they depth-charge us," added pengelly gloomily.
"they won't—why should they?" rejoined the skipper. "they don't know but that we blew a hole in the old hooker and sank her for good and all."
"perhaps they'll send a diver down to report."
"not before daylight," declared cain. "and then, if i am any judge of the weather, it'll be too choppy for that."
for some minutes every one kept silent. although the watch below were almost overwhelmed with curiosity to know what had occurred, the captain gave strict orders that no conversation was to be permitted.
he was confident enough: pengelly was showing signs of nervousness. submarine work was not in his line. he was good enough for surface work—in fact, he was a good seaman—but he lacked the cold, calculating and resourceful courage of his chief.
"what's that?" he ejaculated, as a dull rasping sound penetrated the hull of the submarine, "they're sweeping for us."
"shut up!" exclaimed captain cain sternly. the grinding noise continued for fifteen long-drawn-out seconds. then it ceased as abruptly as it had commenced. shortly afterwards, the muffled thud of the destroyer's engines were heard, loud at first then gradually diminishing.
"she's off," declared captain cain. "what we heard just now was the sinker [1] of a mark-buoy. she's probably making for falmouth for shelter—or else under the lee of lundy. they've done us out of a comfortable berth, pengelly; we've got to shift."
"now?" asked pengelly dubiously.
"not until an hour before high water," decided the other. "we'll break surface and drift, using our engines only if absolutely necessary. with the set of the flood tide we ought to be swept through the sound midway between godrevy island and the stones. there's a minimum of fifty feet at high water."
"how about the lighthouse-keepers?" objected pengelly. "ten to one they've been warned."
"any more objections?" asked captain cain, losing his temper. "stow it, man. why didn't you go in for gardening? that's more in your line, i think."
with that captain cain went to his cabin, and, after warning one of the men to call him at six bells (3 a.m.), calmly went to sleep.
at the appointed hour the skipper was roused.
fresh as paint, he began preparations for bringing the alerte to the surface.
absolute caution was essential. the destroyer might not have gone: she might be anchored in the bay. the atmosphere might be still clear, the stars might be shining brightly. until the submarine broke surface, there were no means of ascertaining what the above-water conditions were. and even with the periscope extended to its greatest height, the masts would be well above the surface before the eye-piece gave any indication of what was in the vicinity.
at length the alerte, shedding tons of water through the scuppers in the superstructure, broke surface. eagerly the captain threw open the hatch and came on deck. it was raining heavily. there was little or no wind. a heavy ground swell was setting in from the atlantic. all these conditions supported cain's declaration that there was a severe storm approaching.
shouting to the watch on deck to turn out, the captain hurried to the bridge and took rapid bearings by the standard compass. to the south-'ard the harbour lights of hayle bore s. 22 w.; st. ives red light, s. 70 w., while godrevy lighthouse was on a bearing s. 88 e. transferring these data to the chart, cain found the alerte's position to be favourable for his project—to allow her to drift through the narrow passage known as the sound into deeper water under the lee of an extensive shoal of half-tide rocks known as the stones.
a sailor dashed up the bridge-ladder.
"we've brought up a mark-buoy with us, sir," he reported. "what are we to do with it?"
there was no hesitation in the skipper's reply. in a trice he had considered and decided upon what was to be done. if the buoy were thrown overboard, it would serve as a guide to the destroyer's operations for examining the supposed wreck. if it were not there, then a vast area of the bay would have to be swept before the naval officers discovered that the "wreck" was no longer in the bay. the longer they took to make this discovery, the better the chances of the alerte getting safely away.
"cut the rope and unstrand the ends," he ordered, "then heave the buoy overboard."
by so doing, it would give the impression that the buoy rope had parted in rough weather. in all probability the coast watchers would find the buoy pounding against the rocks off godrevy point.
almost imperceptibly the alerte continued to drift. every half-minute captain cain took angles with his sextant, while pengelly attended to the compass bearings. although the shore lights were visible, it was an impossible matter to distinguish the outlines of the coast. conversely, no one ashore—not even the lightkeepers of godrevy lighthouse—could discern the black hull of the alerte as she was borne with all lights extinguished towards the gateway to safety. even at a hundred yards the steady downpour of rain was sufficient to obliterate her from watching eyes.
presently, the alerte entered the red sector of the lower godrevy light. she was now in the danger zone. there was quite a nasty tide-rip, while the thunder of the breakers across the stones on one hand and upon the rock-bound godrevy island on the other, were indications that spelt disaster to any vessel that missed the passage of the sound.
it was an anxious time. more than once captain cain grasped the handle of the engine-room telegraph, fearing that the ship was drifting too close to the breakers. then with remarkable suddenness the alerte passed beyond the warning red sector.
"all clear, pengelly!" exclaimed the skipper. "we're through. pass the word to the hands to lower masts and funnel and make all snug. smartly, but with no unnecessary noise. keep the lead going, there."
in ten minutes the work of snugging down was completed. the soundings gave a depth of ten fathoms.
captain cain descended from the bridge—slowly this time.
"hands to diving stations!" he ordered.
for the second time that night the buoyancy tanks were flooded. the alerte, two and a half miles e. by n. of her previous and enforced resting place, lay snug and sound to await the passing of the threatening storm.
