throughout the three days during which the sea was raging furiously in the grip of the terrific gale, the alerte remained submerged. occasionally the giant seas sweeping over the stones rocked her ever so slightly. the noise of shingle carried over the rocky ledge to wind'ard could be distinctly heard like a continuous roll of distant thunder, but as far as actual danger went the alerte was as safe as if she had been lying at heavy moorings in the most sheltered berth in falmouth harbour.

the difficulty of maintaining a constant supply of pure air was overcome by means of chemicals; so much so, that there was a slight excess of oxygen that had a peculiarly exhilarating effect upon the crew. even the usually morbid and pessimistic pengelly began by attempting feeble jokes. he next became boisterous and excitable, while on the third day even the light-hearted crew looked askance at him, so erratic was his behaviour.

several of the hands showed signs of excessive excitability. the epidemic was spreading. had the alerte remained submerged very much longer, all hands might have gone mad under the influence of the super-oxygen charged atmosphere.

fortunately for them, captain cain noticed the symptoms. he decided to break surface and remain with the hatchways open for at least an hour, even at the risk of the heavy seas pouring inboard.

at two in the morning of the fourth day the alerte was brought to the surface. greatly to her skipper's surprise—for the glass had risen far too rapidly to prognosticate fine weather—the storm had blown itself out. crested waves were surging over the stones and thundering upon godrevy island, but the pirate submarine was in comparatively sheltered water, rolling sluggishly to the long atlantic swell.

captain cain's chief anxiety was now on account of the oil fuel. the gauges showed that there was only one ton left in the tank. by some means he must get into communication with captain silas porthoustoc and arrange for the fairy to proceed to a rendezvous with a cargo of liquid fuel.

for the present the alerte rode to a single anchor, double watches being set to give the alarm should a vessel be sighted, although the position of the pirate submarine was well out of the way of traffic, owing to the proximity of the reef known as the stones. at a few seconds' notice the alerte could submerge. meanwhile, the hull of the submarine was being swept by a current of pure, ozone-laden air.

"mr. pengelly!" shouted the skipper.

the second in command hurried along the alleyway, performing a fantastic two-step.

"pull yourself together, man," exclaimed captain cain sternly. "we're in a bit of a fix."

pengelly's light-hearted demeanour fell from him like a shedded garment.

"what is it now, sir?" he inquired anxiously.

"precious little oil-fuel left," replied the captain. "look here: do you know portreath? what sort of a harbour is it?"

"not enough water for us," replied pengelly. "you're surely not going to take the ship into port?"

"no fear," responded cain grimly. "but i want to send a boat ashore. you'd better take her. we must arrange with porthoustoc to supply us with oil. while you are ashore, you might get hold of a batch of newspapers. we don't appear to be getting much information by wireless."

"there'll be a heavy breaking sea across the mouth of portreath harbour," objected pengelly.

"a chance for you to display your seamanship," added cain, with grim humour. "we'll run up along before daybreak and then retrace our course. people ashore will think we're outward-bound. pick your crew. i'll write a letter to old silas, giving him instructions."

just before dawn the alerte brought st. agnes' head broad on the starboard beam. then she turned and ran leisurely down the coast, bringing up off the little harbour of portreath just as the sun appeared above the gaunt and rugged cornish hills.

to the coast-watching station she made a signal announcing herself as the s.s. eldorado of sunderland from bristol to whitby, following up with a request to know whether it was practicable to send a boat ashore.

portreath station replied that it could be done, but care was necessary on account of the disturbed state of the bar.

"carry on, mr. pengelly," ordered the inexorable captain cain.

the boat made the harbour safely. pengelly, on stepping ashore, was met by one of the customs men.

"hello!" remarked the latter. "rather unusual you coming in here, isn't it?"

"i have to post important letters," replied pengelly.

"lucky you didn't bring up off here a week or so ago," commented the official. "we'd have to have searched you."

"what for?" asked the alerte's second in command, with well-feigned innocence.

"'cause of that pirate what was knocking about. well, she's gone, thank goodness! i wasn't none too keen myself, putting off to a vessel that might have been manned by cutthroats."

"we heard something about it," remarked pengelly. "rumours, of course. what did happen?"

"she blew herself up over t'other side of godrevy island," announced the man, with a sweep of his hand in the direction of st. ives bay. "just as the windrush—destroyer, she be—was about to nab her. they'll be starting salvage operations when the swell settles—maybe to-morrow."

"that's something to be thankful for," said pengelly sententiously. "not that they'd have got much out of the old eldorado out yonder. there are enough risks at sea without the chance of being scuppered by a bloomin' pirate.... where's the post office, mate?"

the customs man gave the required information. pengelly walked away, posted silas porthoustoc's instructions and purchased a quantity of provisions and a big budget of newspapers.

he returned to the harbour and found that none of the boat's crew had deserted. he would not have been greatly surprised if some of them had made themselves scarce. he himself felt tempted to clear out, when his feet touched honest cornish soil. it would be an easy matter to make his way to penzance and arrange with old silas to share the plunder. but there were difficulties. he might betray cain and obtain king's pardon, but what would happen to the booty then? its secret hiding-place would be divulged. he would not be a penny the better. and, if cain evaded capture, his—pengelly's—life would not be worth a moment's purchase. possibly, similar fears had exercised a restraining influence on the boat's crew. once "in the swim" it was a difficult matter to escape the whirlpool.

"better look alive," cautioned the customs man, looking down from the lofty quay-side. "there's a nasty sea-fog banking up."

the boat shipped a considerable amount of water in clearing the harbour, and by the time she ran alongside the alerte the fog was so thick that the shore was entirely blotted out.

"well, what's the news?" demanded captain cain.

"haven't looked, sir," replied pengelly, tossing the bundle from the boat to the deck of the alerte. "from what i've heard, they think us properly scuppered."

the boat was hoisted up and secured. at slow speed the pirate submarine nosed her way through the fog, intending to make for a certain secluded "sound" in the scillies, there to await the arrival of the fairy with the oil.

having given the quartermaster the course, cain selected a couple of newspapers and told the bo's'un to pass a number of them for'ard for the hands not on duty.

one of the newspapers was the western gazette. this the captain handed to pengelly, knowing that the latter would derive interesting local information from it. the times cain retained and figuratively proceeded to devour with the avidity of a man who has for days been cut off from all accounts of the world's doings.

"hello, pengelly!" he exclaimed, "we're fugitives from justice."

"i know that," rejoined pengelly, with a show of asperity.

"'tany rate," resumed cain, "there's a warrant out for the arrest of thomas trevorrick and paul pengelly for fraud in connection with the polkyll shipbreaking company. we're assumed to have absconded and to be hiding on the continent. there's two hundred pounds reward."

both men smiled grimly at each other. evidently there was no connection in the minds of the authorities between trevorrick and the pirate captain cain.

"and the memnon is officially reported as being destroyed," continued captain cain. "the admiralty state emphatically that she is the vessel that attacked the cap hoorn. they weren't far out there, pengelly, but listen! this is a gem! 'in consequence of the destruction of the memnon, all danger to shipping through piratical action is now considered at an end. accordingly orders have been issued to the naval patrols engaged in hunting down the pirate to return to their respective bases.' well, that's given us a new lease of life. wait till we replenish our fuel tanks and we'll give my lords a nasty eye-opener." this time both men laughed boisterously. fickle fortune was treating them with lavish favour.

for some minutes there was silence, each reader deep in his paper.

"by jove!" suddenly ejaculated pengelly. "listen to this, sir: 'an inquest was held——'"

"don't want to hear about inquests," interrupted captain cain. "don't suppose mine will worry me. why should i trouble about other people's?"

"you will about this one," persisted pengelly doggedly. "it's silas porthoustoc. he was found dead in his garden. heart disease, they say. the inquest was held in the keigwin arms last monday."

"confound the fellow!" almost shouted captain cain angrily. "what possessed him to shuffle off this mortal coil at this time above all others, and to leave us in the lurch? ten thousand thunders! think of the oil-fuel we'll have to whistle for!"

"and i've only just posted his orders," added pengelly. "what did you tell him? will that give us away?"

"no, it won't," declared the skipper. "it will convey nothing to outsiders. 'scilly blooms' and 'jersey potatoes' won't give them a clue, trust me for that. all the same, it's infernally annoying."

"it is," agreed pengelly.

both men relapsed into silence.

"i hope porthoustoc got that abrahams fellow down from london to dispose of the booty before he turned up his toes?" mused cain.

"wonder if silas hid the stuff where i told him to?" soliloquised pengelly. "well, it's all or nothing as far as i am concerned."