CHAPTER XXXI The Capture of the Secret Base

"Yes, I'll admit that," conceded Captain Blair to Captain Davis, late of the S.S. Kittiwake. "We've had bad weather. It blew like great guns twelve hours after the life-boat got away from here. But Burgoyne knows what he's about. He's used to small sailing craft and so are the other fellows. He'll win through."

"A good many days have passed since the boat left," remarked Captain Davis. "He has had time to fetch the Marshall Islands and get a warship here long ago. Of course, he might have escaped the gale, or even struck the tail end of it."

The two skippers were having their after-supper yarn, and as usual conversation turned upon the subject of Burgoyne's dash with the life-boat. Both men had their doubts, but Captain Blair refused to admit his. The skipper of the Kittiwake, sanguine for the first fortnight, was beginning to express grave concern as to the possible fate of the life-boat and her crew.

"That bilious-faced Strogoff isn't back yet," continued Captain Blair. "There's no doubt about it, he's in pursuit of Burgoyne. If he'd found him he'd be back before this, especially as the Malfilio's expected back at any moment."

"Mind you, I'm only speculating on it," said Captain Davis. "But I've a notion that Strogoff took that Canuk passenger of yours along with him. When did you see the lubber last?"

"The night the life-boat got away," replied Captain Blair. "Or, rather, Mr. Tarrant saw him talking to Strogoff just before the evening muster."

"Pity you hadn't—" began Davis, then, clutching his companion's arm, he pointed to the two block-houses by the gate of the compound. "Something up over there," he added.

In the light of a couple of portable petrol lanterns considerable activity was observable amongst the guards. Their numbers were being much diminished by the withdrawal of twenty armed and obviously excited pirates, while the remainder were gesticulating violently, some pointing to the compound, others to the two machine-guns that commanded that far from delectable spot.

Presently the gate of the compound was unlocked, and Fernando, accompanied by half a dozen armed men, entered the enclosure. A whistle sounded—the signal for the prisoners to assemble.

In five minutes every officer and man remaining out of the original crews of the three captured vessels turned out and fell in, taking up their allotted positions, and forming three sides of a hollow square.

Into the centre strode Fernando and his bodyguard, and without further ado, without even calling the roll, the half-caste began reading in execrable English the orders for the night.

All lights and fires were to be extinguished. No one was to leave his hut until further notice. No shouting or demonstration of any sort was to be permitted. Any breach of these regulations would be punished by a heavy and prolonged burst of machine-gun fire upon the prisoners' camp.

"This looks like business, Angus," remarked Captain Blair to the Chief Engineer, after the parade had been dismissed and Fernando had left the compound.

"Ay, sure," agreed Angus. "Weel, I doot we'd best bide the noo. I ken fine yon Porfirio person has took mair than he can abide by. We'll be seein' shot and shell flyin' come the morn."

The Chief Engineer's surmise was a correct one. A wireless message from the Malfilio's seaplane had just been picked up in which the pilot informed Porfirio of the disconcerting news that a couple of large cruisers, some destroyers, and a few aircraft were looking for him.

The news was enough to strike terror into the hearts of the pirates who formed the garrison of the secret base. They knew perfectly well that it mattered little as to whether the Malfilio escaped, returned to the island, or was sunk. In any case they couldn't get away, and before long they would have a powerful squadron trying conclusions with them. They might fight to the last, but there was no escape. Surrender meant death, save for those who might obtain respite by turning evidence against the others.

To increase their desperation was the belief that Porfirio, Henriques, and Black Strogoff had deliberately abandoned them to their fate. The prolonged absence of the Malfilio and the disappearance of Strogoff with a band of boon companions seemed to confirm this theory, and when rogues distrust each other their plans fall to the ground.

All that night the feeling that there was something in the air kept everyone awake. The pirates were apprehensive and jumpy; their captives sanguine and excited, in spite of the tedious passage of the night hours.

Just as dawn was breaking Phil Branscombe went to the open window of his hut and listened intently. Then he turned to Withers, his "cabin-mate".

"Old bird," he announced, "I hear an aeroplane."

"The Malfilio's seaplane returning, I expect," rejoined Withers, stifling a yawn.

"Wrong, my festive!" exclaimed Phil ten seconds later. "They're British seaplanes."

Of that there was no doubt. Flying high they were already in the rays of the sun, while the ground was yet in shadow—three large biplanes fitted with both floats and landing-wheels. Above the island they separated, one passing over the harbour, another circling above the Observation Hill, and the third, swooping down to within a couple of hundred feet, described figures of eight above the prisoners' huts.

Presently a powerful Aldis light flashed from the third seaplane. Blinking rapidly it Morsed the following, "Are prisoners compelled to man batteries?"

Regardless of Fernando's warning, at least half a dozen men signalled replies, using any fabric nearest to hand to "flag-wag" the reassuring message that all hands were within the limits of the fence.

"O.K." flashed the seaplane's lamp, and then the information was promptly transmitted by wireless to the Armadale.

Meanwhile the second seaplane had dropped a message, with distinctive streamers attached, close to the Observation Hill. It was an ultimatum, ordering the garrison to surrender at discretion, and signify the same by hoisting a white flag within thirty minutes of the receipt of the demand.

But the ill-advised action on the part of the machine-gunners in the block-houses destroyed the chance of the pirates surrendering without bloodshed. The seaplane over the prisoners' camp offered an irresistible bait, and a burst of machine-gun fire was directed upon the rapidly-moving aircraft.

Retribution came swiftly. The seaplane, absolutely untouched, rose steeply until it was impossible for the pirates to elevate their machine-guns sufficiently to bear upon the aerial target. Then in quick succession it released four powerful bombs. One secured a direct hit, blowing a block-house to atoms, while the others, falling close to the second machine-gun post, damaged it so severely that only three badly-scared men emerged from the ruins, and fled panic-stricken to a shelter of a more substantial nature.

Remaining aloft sufficiently long to wireless the news to the Commodore and to wind up her trailing aerial, the seaplane volplaned down and made a faultless landing close to the huts occupied by the Donibristle's crew.

"We'll hike you all out of this in another three or four hours," declared the flight-lieutenant to the crowd of merchant seamen gathered round the machine, "but you'll have to bear a hand. In case the pirates start reprisals on you, take these."

He handed out canvas bags containing Service revolvers and ammunition, sufficient to arm eighty men.

"Right-o!" he continued. "Our heavy guns will start firing in half a shake, but don't get the wind up. We've located your position all right. Your only danger is if these yellow blighters start running amok this way. If they do, shoot hard and straight. Well, cheerio! My work's not done yet. I'm spotting for the Armadale—one of our crack cruisers."

"One moment," interposed Captain Blair. "Have you any news of my Third Officer, Mr. Burgoyne?"

The Flying Officer shook his head.

"Never heard of him," he replied. "What do you want?"

"He got away from here in a boat to obtain help," replied Captain Blair. "We thought perhaps it was he who reported the existence of the pirate Porfirio."

"May have done," rejoined the Australian flying officer dubiously. "I'm from the seaplane carrier Murchison, and all I know is that we received sealed orders to proceed here. Well, s'long, and the very best of everything."

The seaplane had barely risen a thousand feet, when with a shrill scream a heavy shell hurtled through the air from one of the invisible warships. From a distance of twelve thousand yards the 9.2-inch missile struck its objective with a precision that was the result of the work of the highest scientific instruments purposely constructed for the destruction of mankind and mankind's defences.

Landing fairly upon the cup-shaped summit of the Observation Hill, it completely transformed the configuration of the landscape. Jagged scraps of sheet-iron and splintered baulks of timber flew high in the air, accompanied by a cloud of black smoke and dust. In an instant the pirates' carefully camouflaged observation post was wiped out, and with it the principal range-finding station of the secret base.

For the next half-hour the bombardment was hotly maintained. At first the pirates replied feebly, but by degrees they warmed to their task, working their 6-inch quick-firers well in spite of the numerous disadvantages under which they were placed.

One by one the concealed guns on the edge of the cliff were knocked out by direct hits upon the concrete gun-pits. Occasionally a battery would cease fire for about ten minutes; then the desperate gunners, who were fighting with halters round their necks, would re-man their weapons in the faint hope of "getting one home" on the daring destroyers which were rapidly approaching the island.

At length the 6-inchers of the secret base ceased to reply. Not a pirate remained in the emplacements save the dead and dying. The rest had fled to their deep subterranean retreats, whence by bombs and machine-gun bullets they still hoped to take a heavy toll of the invaders.

By ten in the morning the heavy gun-fire had almost died down. The cruisers had reduced distances to 2500 yards, and were occasionally firing mainly with the idea of keeping the pirates penned down to their underground shelters.

A quarter of an hour later the crews of the captured merchantmen, who were now able to roam at will over the north-western part of the island, noticed a destroyer negotiating the intricate passage between the reefs and the northern side of the secret base. She had run the gauntlet of the light quick-firers commanding the main approach channel, and had not come off lightly, for the funnels were riddled in several places, while there was a gaping hole in her hull just abaft her after torpedo-tube. Although the damage was mainly above the water-line, her powerful steam-pumps were hard at work.

She was no longer in danger of being under fire, for not a gun could be brought to bear upon her now that she had rounded the north-eastern extremity of the island. Moving slowly, and with the leadsman in the chains continually sounding, she weathered the north-western end of the island, and, lowering boats, dropped anchor almost directly abreast of the cave which Burgoyne had found so helpful during his preparations for flight.

Presently a rocket soared from the destroyer's deck taking with it a line that fell well beyond the edge of the cliff.

Instantly there was a rush on the part of the merchant seamen, and in twenty minutes four stout rope ladders afforded communication between the beach and the top of the cliff.

Up the ladders swarmed bluejackets, armed with rifles and bayonets, while boxes of smoke bombs, Lewis guns, and ammunition were dexterously hauled to the summit.

During these operations a second destroyer entered the lagoon and added her quota to the landing-party. By noon the entire force of three hundred men, including a draft hastily transhipped from the Rockhampton, was ready to move forward.

One of the observation seaplanes gave a pre-arranged signal to the cruiser and the bombardment ceased. Simultaneously the landing-party advanced for a systematic searching of the pirates' subterranean lairs.

Their method of working was simple and effective. At the entrance to each dug-out they summoned the inmates to surrender. The invitation was invariably declined with expressions of rage and defiance until a smoke bomb was neatly lobbed into the underground retreat. In a very brief space of time a dozen or more half-suffocated rogues would appear staggering through the smoke, to be secured and bound almost without resistance by the burly Australian bluejackets.

Work over, the conquerors settled down to play. Their first effort in that direction was to provide a sumptuous meal for all hands.

There was fresh meat in plenty, and ample stocks of flour, tea, sugar, and coffee. The bluejackets, taking possession of the galleys, soon had enormous fires going. Those not employed as cooks whiled away the time in playing rounders, football, and leap-frog until a bugle sounded for tea.

It was a joyous feast. The bluejackets enjoyed it with the zest of men having successfully accomplished a difficult task; the merchant seamen, because for the first time for many weeks they were revelling in the delights of freedom. Their irksome captivity was fast fading into the limbo of reminiscence. Once more they were at liberty to do almost as they wished without the ever-present dread of their armed guards. No longer had they to toil under conditions approaching slavery at the behest of Ramon Porfirio and his minions.

Although Captain Blair and the remaining officers of the Donibristle made many inquiries, no one seemed to be able to supply any information concerning Burgoyne and his companions. None of the landing-party was aware of the presence of two of the officers of the scuttled merchantman on board the Armadale. All they could say was that they sailed in execution of sealed orders, but as to what prompted these orders they were entirely in the dark.

Amongst the hilarious throng there was one man who felt utterly despondent. Although Colonel Vivian had borne up wonderfully from the time Hilda had left the island, he was now overcome by the thought that he had lost both wife and daughter. In the case of the latter he felt sure that, had she survived, the story of her rescue would have been known throughout the length and breadth of Australia. He forgot that the success of the expedition depended upon absolute secrecy, and from the fact that none of the men from the Rockhampton and the two destroyers knew anything of the missing life-boat and her crew, he formed the conclusion that the boat had been overwhelmed by the furious gale.

After the meal Captain Blair, in the course of conversation with the officer commanding the landing-parties, asked what steps he proposed taking with regard to the embarkation of the former captives.

"Sure, I don't know," replied the Commander "The Commodore will have to settle that point. See, the Armadale's making for the anchorage."

Slowly, and with just sufficient way to enable her to answer to the helm, the cruiser, flying the Broad Pennant of the Commodore of the squadron, approached the deep channel through the reef. Men were in the chains, heaving the lead, but she came in with a decided assurance as if her navigating officers were well acquainted with the intricate passage. Two cables astern came the Rockhampton, followed by a destroyer, while in the rear of the procession steamed the seaplane carrier, which had already received all the members of her aerial brood.

Splendidly handled, although the bend in the approach channel was so acute that the helm had to be supplemented by reverse action of their twin propellors, the cruisers gained the inner harbour of the secret base, where they moored with ample room in the spacious land-locked basin, amidst the cheers of the men lining the lofty cliffs.

Suddenly Phil Branscombe gripped Captain Blair's arm.

"Look, sir!" he exclaimed. "On the after-bridge of the nearest cruiser. Yes, by Jove! it's old Burgoyne and our wireless merchant. They're waving to us."

"So they are, by thunder!" almost yelled the excited Old Man. "Lads! There's Burgoyne and Mostyn. Give them a loud one."

And for once not in accordance with the accepted ideas of British reserve, the survivors of the Donibristle let themselves go. Their enthusiasm was caught up by their former comrades in adversity, and the cliffs echoed and re-echoed to the stentorian cheer.