"there's that candide asking for trouble, sir," replied pengelly, as he entered the captain's cabin. "we've just intercepted a message saying she's leaving st. vincent to-day."

"she's been reporting her movements long enough," said captain cain. "we'll see what we can do. we'll have to shift from here in any case. we'll find a suitable cubby-hole somewhere down the coast, even if we have to try the nigerian backwater. one good haul, pengelly, and we'll pack up and share the proceeds."

"we've done nothing much to write home about since we came south," grumbled the second in command. "sending a dago destroyer to the bottom doesn't put shot in our locker."

"quite so," agreed cain. "that's why i'm anxious to nab the candide. pass the word to mr. barnard that i want to be under way in an hour's time—just before high water."

when cain came on deck all preparations were complete, except for breaking out the anchor. the alerte was riding to the flood tide. the mud flats on either side of the estuary were covered. the air was hot, sultry and still. outside, the surf thundered heavily on the bar.

at five knots the alerte headed seawards, scraping past the submerged wreckage of the villamil to starboard and the island to port, where the now-abandoned signal-station alone remained as a visible reminder of the pirate submarine's brief and financially disappointing sojourn in the estuary of the wad-el-abuam.

just before two bells in the afternoon watch, smoke was observed on the southern horizon. twenty minutes later the dark grey hull of a fairly big steamer emerged from the patches of haze.

"she's the candide right enough," declared cain. "clear away the gun, my lads. one more hooker and our job's done.... no colours yet, mr. barnard. we'll let 'em have a good sight of the jolly roger in a brace of shakes. pick your boarding-party, mr. pengelly. see that everything's ready in the boat."

the two vessels were approaching on their respective courses which, if adhered to, would enable the stranger to pass a good half-mile on the alerte's port side. the pirate submarine held on in order to avoid arousing suspicion on the part of the stranger.

suddenly pengelly, who had been keeping the approaching craft under observation through a pair of powerful binoculars, turned to his superior.

"she's a yankee, by jove!" he exclaimed. "she's flying the stars and stripes."

"ay," agreed cain, with a grin. "and there's the name bronx city on her bows as large as life. yankee colours and yankee name don't turn a belgian tramp into a united states hooker. i'm too old a bird to be caught with chaff.... starboard a bit, quartermaster... at that!"

the eyes of the signalman, the gun's crew and the seamen standing aft with the rolled-up skull and cross-bones already toggled to the halyards, were all fixed expectantly upon the skipper of the pirate submarine as he stood at the extreme end of the port side of the bridge.

captain cain raised his right hand. at the signal the black flag was broken out, the international id hoisted at the fore, while an instant later a shot whizzed across the stranger's bows.

the warning was promptly acted upon. the intercepted craft reversed engines, lost way and then came to a stop. the stars and stripes remained fluttering in the faint breeze.

promptly pengelly and his men pushed off to the prize, under cover of the alerte's six-inch gun. before the boat ran alongside the stranger, the latter's accommodation-ladder had been lowered.

pistol in hand, pengelly, followed by his men, swarmed up the swaying ladder. at the gangway, supported by several officers and crew stood a tall, hatchet-faced man in white drill uniform and with his peaked cap tilted well over his left eye.

"what in the name of tarnation thunder do you want?" he demanded. "cocktails, lime-juice or milk? if you do, you won't get—so quit."

pengelly realised that cain had made a mistake. the vessel was not the candide disguised, but the bronx city, registered and owned in the united states. but having boarded her, pengelly had no intention of returning ignominiously to the alerte.

"no quitting this time, skipper," he replied firmly. "i'm not here to argue—this is my persuader."

he touched the barrel of his automatic with his left hand and then pointed to the alerte, which was still closing the prize.

"guess you'll swing for this," exclaimed the captain of the bronx city.

"more ways than one of killing a cat," retorted pengelly. "now, you—officers and men—for'ard you go and keep quiet, or it'll be the worse for you."

shepherded by half a dozen of the alerte's armed boarding-party, the crew of the yankee were made to go for'ard. pengelly turned to the old man.

"i don't know your tally," he remarked.

"cap'n hiram adams is my name," replied the skipper of the bronx city. "guess people know me from quebec round the horn and up to seattle and on this side of the herring-pond, too, i reckon. hope you're wiser."

"i am," rejoined pengelly curtly. "now let me see your papers."

accompanied by the prize-master and followed by two of the alerte's hands, captain adams went to his cabin, unlocked a safe and produced the necessary documents.

pengelly's eyes opened with astonished satisfaction. the bronx city, a twin-screw boat, had a rich cargo. she had come from beira with a heavy consignment of gold from lisbon. at accra she had picked up a thousand barrels of palm oil. amongst other articles enumerated on her manifest were ivory and ostrich feathers. in addition to her cargo, she carried nine portuguese passengers—residents of beira and quilimane—on their way to lisbon.

unable to decide what was to be done, pengelly ordered one of the hands to semaphore the alerte and inform captain cain of the identity of the prize and the nature of her cargo.

back came the reply: "stand fast. am coming on board."

cain lost no time in so doing. he was far more perturbed than was his second in command. he had gone against his resolution not to molest a united states ship. he had done so in all good faith—if such a term can be applied to rank piracy—but the fact remained that he had fired upon a vessel flying the stars and stripes.

long before the alerte's second cutter came alongside the bronx city, cain had made up his mind as to the course to pursue.

ascending the accommodation-ladder, he made his way to the bridge where captain hiram adams was standing under guard.

"i am sorry, cap'n adams," said cain, after he had requested pengelly to introduce him; "there's been a mistake on my part."

"sure thing," replied the yankee skipper. "but i calculate there ain't no darned mistake about that."

he pointed to the skull and cross-bones flying from the alerte's ensign-staff.

"there isn't," agreed cain, with a disarming smile. "the mistake was entirely upon my part. i took you for the candide. s'pose you haven't spoken her?"

"nope."

"she's doubtless skulking at st. vincent, scared stiff and afraid to meet me," continued the pirate. "well, cap'n adams, i'm not going to do you any harm. i'm not going to touch an ounce of your cargo——"

"but, sir," interrupted pengelly, holding out the ship's papers. "look here."

cain gave a quick glance through their contents. most of the cargo, including the gold, was portuguese property. it was a great temptation.

"i know my business, mr. pengelly," he said sternly. "now, cap'n adams, to resume. you'll be free to resume your voyage in a few days. in my own interests i am reluctantly compelled to employ you for my own protection. if you give no trouble you'll receive none. is that clear?"

captain hiram adams nodded. a grim smile spread over his lean features. after all, he was coming out lightly. his ship was not to be sunk; his cargo was to remain intact.

"guess it's your funeral—not mine," he replied. "get busy!"

cain proceeded to get busy. his first step was to send for the bronx city's wireless operator.

as soon as the fictitious message announcing the ramming and sinking of the alerte had been sent out, cain ordered the operator below, locked the door of the wireless cabin, and placed an armed guard outside.

"gee! guess you're some lineal descendant of ananias, cap'n!" exclaimed the master of the bronx city admiringly. "reckon you'd make a pile in wall street in next to no time."

cain's next step was to place pengelly with five men in charge of the bronx city, and to order the chief and second officers of the latter on board the alerte.

"just as a matter of form, cap'n adams," he remarked: "it will save a heavy strain on your steward's department.... now, mr. pengelly, keep station four cables astern of me, if you please; speed twelve knots. under no consideration, should we sight another craft, will the bronx city communicate."

the pirate captain returned to the alerte. if the misleading wireless message "went down," then the alerte had yet another lease of life and activity. the possible presence of british and foreign warships off the rio del oro was a danger which he fully appreciated. once the coast was clear of that type of craft he could prey on merchantmen during the next few weeks with comparative impunity. he was very keen to snap up the hitherto much-advertised candide.

he felt considerably elated over the bronx city affair. his magnanimity would be an asset in his favour. his discrimination in refusing to plunder a cargo carried under the stars and stripes would show that he was not a wild dog at large. altogether, he was very pleased with himself.

for the rest of the day the alerte, with the bronx city keeping demurely in her wake, kept a southerly course. as night fell she stood in towards the coast, sighting land soon after dawn. ahead lay the bahia arenas, an enclosed anchorage nearly ten miles in length and averaging one in breadth, with an extreme depth of fourteen fathoms. separated from the atlantic by a long low, sandy island, it received the faltuba river, a fairly deep stream meandering between banks of mangroves and bounded for miles by miasmic swamps.

years ago the portuguese had attempted to convert bahia arenas into a commercial port. they built a stone fort, wharves and huts. the experiment was a failure. they had reckoned without the deadly climate. it was healthy enough for vessels lying at anchor in the sandy bay, but no european could for any length of time withstand the pestilential air that rose from the mangroves. the fort fell into decay, the wharves rotted. when in course of time the french took over the country between cape blanco and british gambia, they sedulously avoided any scheme to open out the faltuba river, and consequently no shipping had occasion to use bahia arenas for commercial purposes.

the entrance was an easy one. even at low springs there were eighteen feet of water on the bar, with an additional height of twelve feet at high water.

once inside, the alerte signalled to the bronx city to heave to. captain cain boarded the american and took charge of the bridge.

"i am going to run your ship aground, cap'n," he announced to the yankee skipper. "you'll come to no harm. the mud's soft. you'll come off before next springs—say in a week's time. by then, we shall be miles away."

captain hiram adams made no audible comment. he merely put his tongue in his cheek.

two miles up the river and hidden from the sea by a spur of high ground thickly covered with coco-palms, captain cain ordered the quartermaster of the bronx city to put her helm hard-a-port.

at a speed of about five knots, the ship ran aground on the starboard side of the river, ploughing through the soft mud for quite her own length before coming to a dead stop. there she lay, on an even keel, with her bows within a hundred yards of the bluff of hard ground.

"you're lying nicely, cap'n," observed cain, as he prepared to withdraw the prize-crew. "i've taken the liberty to remove certain essentials of your wireless; but i'll do my level best to send the stuff along to your nearest agents."

returning on board the alerte, cain's first act was to send for her wireless operator.

"any signals from the candide?" he inquired.

"none, sir," was the reply. "i've had the 'phones on almost continuous-like since midnight."

"well, carry on," rejoined the captain, paying no heed to the man's carefully-worded complaint.

"unfeeling swine!" muttered the operator, as he made his way back to the wireless cabin. "me carry on after sixteen hours' trick? not much."