CHAPTER VII
Sand-bagged
During the next three weeks there was plenty of work for all hands.It was hard work, too; but everyone stuck to it grimly anddeterminedly in spite of aching muscles, blistered hands, and avariety of small ailments consequent upon unaccustomed handling ofwhite-lead, paint, tar, pitch, and sooji-mooji.
The latter was unanimously voted a tough proposition. Composedprincipally of caustic soda, it is the shell-back's sheet anchorwhere old paint has to be removed. The amateur crew of the _Titania_found that it removed other things as well--for it burnt into theirfingers, had a decided tendency towards destroying their clothes, andnot infrequently spoiled their foot-gear.
There were other minor casualties. Griffiths, an ex-R.E. officer, andone of the two representatives of the British Army amongst the_Titania's_ ship's company, found by practical experience that amarline-spike has a sharp point, and that even when dropped from aheight of a couple of feet can rightly claim to be best man in anencounter with a human toe. Merridew, too, discovered, to his extremephysical inconvenience, that there are two ways of using an adze--theright and the wrong. Subsequent reflection on the part of the victimresulted in a decision that there was even a better way of dealingwith adzes--to leave them severely alone.
Also the amount of brain-work required to equip and provision theship was not small. Nothing superfluous was to be taken--only theabsolute essentials. In the old days, "when there was a war on",procuring stores for M.L.'s was a comparatively simple matter. Theofficer in charge signed a "demand note" for a quantity in excess ofwhat he actually required, taking this step to safeguard himselfagainst the parsimony of an official known as a Naval Stores Officer,who had a nasty habit of cutting down the demands. In the case of the_Titania's_ equipment this would have been a financial disaster. Eachman knew in effect it was his own money that he was laying out andacted accordingly.
Within eight days of the purchase the _Titania_ was docked, cleaned,and "compoed", undocked and berthed alongside a wharf. This had beendone by the yacht-yard hands, but Harborough and his "merrybuccaneers", as he generally referred to them, were toiling likegalley-slaves.
The grey, rust-stained sides had been scraped and had been given twoout of a final three coats of white paint, and white paint at thepresent time costs money. But it was money well laid out. The healthand comfort of the ship's company, as the yacht sweltered in theTropics, depended largely upon the almost non-absorbing properties ofwhite paint to the terrific glare of the sun.
The grimy decks were scraped and then scrubbed with wet sand; thedull varnish on the teak-work was removed and the bare wood giventhree coats of copal. The masts were rubbed down and painted apale-buff colour, and the whole of the standing and running riggingrenewed. Fortunately, the sails were in excellent condition.
"What arms are we taking?" asked Villiers.
"Nothing very formidable," replied Harborough, who, at his ownrequest, was no longer addressed as Sir Hugh by his fellowadventurers. "I don't anticipate any scrapping. Bloodthirstycannibals are back numbers in the part of the Pacific we are makingfor, and I don't suppose that our rival treasure-hunters will go tothe extent of armed aggression."
"Still, we ought to be prepared for emergencies," rejoined Villiers."There's virtue in the barrel of a Maxim gun."
Harborough shook his head.
"Not always," he replied. "When there's a hot-headed fellow fingeringthe firing-button, for instance. No, no; we'll dispense with a Maximor a Lewis. A couple of rifles will be useful, perhaps, and half adozen automatic pistols. I'll take a dozen 12-bore shot guns. It'sremarkable what a deterrent a charge of small shot can be. VereyLights and rockets we'll take. You might see to the ship's armoury.Most of the guns, the rifles, and two automatic pistols are alreadyat Thalassa Towers. Bring them down next time you have room in thecar. Oh, by the by, you might read this."
He handed Villiers a long blue envelope. Within was a communicationfrom the underwriters of s.s. _Fusi Yama_ agreeing to grant Sir HughHarborough the sole rights of salvage subject to a 5-per-centroyalty.
"Five per cent," exclaimed Harborough. "Evidently they think we're ona fool's errand. However, now everything is fair and above board. Weare the legitimate firm; Borgen & Co. are mere interlopers."
"Talking about Borgen," observed Villiers, "just step aft a minute.See that tramp lying alongside Anstruther's Wharf? The one with theblack, yellow, and blue funnel."
"Ay," assented Harborough. "Is she our rival?"
"I don't know--yet," replied Jack. "We haven't our intelligenceDepartment in full working order at present. All I know--on theauthority of the Yard Foreman--is that she's the _Geier_, one ofGermany's surrendered mercantile fleet, and she's just been sold to aSwedish firm."
"And thence back to Germany," commented Harborough. "Verily the waysof our politicians passeth understanding. However, if Kristian Borgenhas a finger in that pie we'll have to watch the _Geier_."
Villiers laughed.
SANDBAGGED]
"Shouldn't be surprised if the _Geier's_ people haven't been watchingus pretty carefully for the last few days," he remarked. "Don't youthink it would be as well if a couple of us slept on board in future?Several of the cabins are quite habitable."
"There's a night watchman," observed Harborough.
"Yes, for the whole of this yard," added Jack. "He can't beeverywhere at once."
"Very good," agreed Harborough. "Pick out two of the crowd and warn'em for sleeping aboard."
"I'll take the first week," volunteered Villiers. "Beverley will,too. And we may as well have Tommy on board."
Tommy was an Aberdeen terrier belonging to Sir Hugh--a sharp-faced,long-nosed little animal who seemed to be perpetually asleep with oneeye open all the time.
"Good enough," agreed Harborough. "Seen O'Loghlin about? I want tospeak to him about those diving-dresses."
Four more days passed--the days in strenuous activity, the nights inutter tranquillity. Villiers and Beverley found the new arrangementquite comfortable. They were afloat once more, even though the_Titania_ was berthed alongside a wharf in a sheltered tidal river.During working-hours a "brow" or gangway gave access to the vessel,but when the working-party packed up, the brow was removed, and theonly means of direct communication with the shore was a wire "Jacob'sLadder" that led to a long raft moored between the _Titania_ and thejetty, whence a wooden ladder, its lower rungs slippery with weed asthe tide fell, enabled access to the wharf.
It was Saturday evening. Manual work on board had been set aside tobe resumed early on Monday morning. Beverley, who was beginning tofeel the strain of long hours and hard toil, had turned in early.Villiers, with the small table of his cabin covered with technicalbooks, was deep in _Norrie's Epitome_ and _The Nautical Almanac for_1920.
"Yacht, ahoy!"
Jack heard the hail but did not stir. Calls of that sort were common,considering that there were half a dozen yachts, with hands living onboard, lying in the tier out in the stream.
"_Titania_, ahoy!"
"For goodness sake why didn't you say so before?" exclaimed Villiersto himself. "Where's Tommy? Why didn't he bark, I wonder?"
Getting into his pilot-coat, for the night air blew coldly down theriver and contrasted forcibly with the warm cabin, Villiers went ondeck.
"Ahoy, there!" he exclaimed.
On the edge of the wharf stood a man with his back to the feeblegleam of a gas-lamp.
"Telegram for Harborough, yacht _Titania_," he announced. "Prepaidwire."
"Come aboard," said Jack.
"Sorry, sir," was the reply. "I'm a stranger to this sort of game. Nohand at ladders, I'm not."
Considering the awkward means of gaining the _Titania's_ deck, theman's objection was reasonable enough, so Villiers descended thewire-rope ladder, crossed the raft, and ascended the vertical steps.The tide had almost finished on the flood, and there were only a fewrungs to scale.
"Prepaid, eh?" remarked Villiers. "All right. I have
a pencil. Let'sgo under the gas-lamp."
The next instant a multitude of dazzling lights flashed before hiseyes, and without a cry he pitched head-long on his face.
* * * * *
"Jack, old thing!" shouted Beverley, throwing back his blankets andjumping from his cot. "What's the time? Why, it's eight bells! Who'sturn is it to light the stove this morning?"
Receiving no reply from the adjoining cabin, Bobby laid hold of asponge, dipped it in the water-jug, and made his way softly toVilliers' berth. He opened the door and looked in.
"What's he doing?" he thought in wonderment, for the cot had not beenslept in. The lamp was still alight, but on the point of burningitself out. It was an oil-lamp, for the electric-lightingarrangements were not yet in working order. The table was litteredwith books, two of them open, while a pipe, with a small heap ofwhite ash, lay upon the open page of the _Nautical Almanac_.
"I believe he's been swotting all night, the mouldy old book-worm,"thought Beverley. "Now he's gone to the bathroom to shove his heatedbrow in cold water."
But the bathroom was empty. A hurried search brought no sign of hischum--nor of the dog.
Fearful of his own surmises, Bobby looked over the side. Almost thefirst thing he noticed was the dead body of Tommy left stranded onthe mud by the falling tide, but of Villiers not a trace.
Even as he looked at the unfortunate Aberdeen, a swell threshedsullenly against the evil-smelling mud and lifted the dog's body acouple of feet or so nearer the weed-covered piles. A steamer hadjust passed--a tramp, outward bound, with the name _Zug_--Malmo, onher stumpy counter.