CHAPTER XXV
The Tables Turned
Gripping the cutlass, Jasper Minalto followed the Third Officer intothe open air, or rather to the edge of the belt of undergrowth thatmarked the fugitives' hiding-place.
This part of the island had undergone a complete transformation.Trees, scrub, and grass had vanished, leaving an expanse ofblackened, still smouldering ashes. The lagoon, previously screenedfrom the mouth of the cave, was fully exposed to an extent of almosta mile. On it, riding to a cable that hung perpendicularly from thehawse-pipe, was the schooner, with her sails lowered but looselyfurled in a way that no self-respecting seaman would have been guiltyof performing. There was the camp, too, with the shelter constructedfrom the wreckage of the life-boat lying upon the ground, and a firestill burning in the fire-place.
But what particularly attracted the attention of the two men was thesight of half a dozen or more motionless figures lying in strangeattitudes upon the ground.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "Minalto, my lad, your li'l ole caskhas done us a good turn. They're all dead drunk. Two, four, six,eight of them. One's not accounted for. We'll risk that one. Stophere, and don't let yourself be seen. I'll go back and bring Mostynalong."
Burgoyne returned to the cave.
"Game for a big stunt, Peter?" he inquired.
"Rather, I'm on," replied Mostyn promptly. "What's doing?"
"Bring as much rope as you can carry," said Alwyn, "and come along.We've got them cold. Yes, and bring Minalto's spear. We may have todo a bit of gentle persuasion in the clubbing line."
The three men advanced cautiously upon the silent forms of theprostrate pirates, but it was not until they were within twenty pacesof their intended prey that Burgoyne checked his companions.
No words were necessary. The three men could see for themselves whathad happened.
There were eight pirates all dead. One, a Malay, was lying with hishead and shoulders in the still-smouldering embers. The others, allbearing wounds of bullets or knives, had fought to a finish. Jasper'sli'l ole cask had vindicated its existence. Unused to spirits formonths past, the pirates had hailed the discovery of the keg withwild delight. The potent stuff had made them mad drunk, and in theirbeastly state of intoxication they had quarrelled, using knives andrifles to back up their senseless arguments until all had fallen.Apparently the Malay had survived the others, but had rolledhelplessly into the fire.
"Sarve 'em right!" exclaimed Jasper.
None of the three men felt any sense but that of gratitude for theirdeliverance. Humane though they undoubtedly were, they had no pityfor the ruffianly crew now lying dead almost at their feet.
"Now for the schooner!" exclaimed Peter, stooping and securing arifle and ammunition that had belonged to one of the villainousdead--an example which Jasper was not slow to follow.
"Steady!" cautioned Burgoyne. "There are eight here; where is theninth?"
"Black Strogoff?"
"Ay; he'll want watching. He's not on board."
"How do you know that?" asked Mostyn.
"The boat isn't alongside. Come on; we'll find her along the beach."
Skirting the shore of the little creek, they gained the beach frontedby the lagoon. Rather more than a stone's throw away was theschooner's boat with her bow a good twelve feet from the water'sedge. Tugging and straining at the boat was Black Strogoff, trying invain to anticipate the rising tide by launching the small butheavily-built dinghy into the water.
Revolver in hand, Burgoyne stealthily approached the piratelieutenant. The latter, furtively turning his head, caught sight ofthe three men whose capture he had so ardently desired, and now asdevotedly wished to avoid.
"Hands up, Strogoff!" ordered Burgoyne.
For answer the rogue whipped out an automatic, at the same timekneeling behind the boat and resting the muzzle of the weapon on thegunwale.
Without hesitation Mostyn and Jasper both raised their rifles andtook rapid aim. Both weapons barked simultaneously, even as BlackStrogoff wildly loosed ten rounds from his pistol. The next instantthe automatic was violently wrenched from the pirate-lieutenant'shand, leaving Strogoff not only defenceless, but with a dislocatedwrist and his face cut in half a dozen places by fragments of thesplayed nickel bullet.
"Surrender!" shouted the Third Officer, brandishing his revolver ashe leapt towards the pirate.
Strogoff had not the faintest desire to avail himself of the offer.He knew that capture meant death at the rope's end.
"Shoot away!" he replied tauntingly.
Burgoyne did nothing of the sort. It was one thing to exchange shotsin hot blood with a criminal; another to strike a human being down incold blood.
Strogoff saw the Englishman's hesitation and took his chance. Wadingwaist-deep, he began swimming for the schooner, which was lying atanchor less than four hundred yards distant.
"Don't fire!" cautioned Alwyn.
"Don't mean to," rejoined Peter, snapping the safety-catch of hisrifle.
"Launch the boat," continued Burgoyne. "We'll nab him long before hegains the schooner."
It was a man-hunt with a vengeance. The excitement of the chaseprovided far greater scope than merely shooting the swimmer throughthe head. To effect a capture appealed to their sporting instincts.Taking human life, or any animal life for that matter, did not,unless there were ample justification for it.
"What are you going to do with him?" asked Peter, when by the unitedefforts of the three men the boat was launched and the oars manned.
"Maroon him on the island," replied Burgoyne grimly. "He'll have thesame chances as we did, anyway, and if he wins through----"
He stopped suddenly, let go the tiller, and sprang to his feet.
"Your rifle--quick, Peter!" he exclaimed hurriedly.
Mostyn handed over the weapon. The rowers laid on their oars andturned their heads to see what their companion was aiming at.
Black Strogoff was now only fifty yards ahead, swimming strongly inspite of his broken wrist, but close behind him was a dark,triangular-shaped object following the disturbed wake of the swimmer.
It was the dorsal fin of an enormous shark.
The pirate, unconscious of the dire peril that threatened him, swamsteadily towards the schooner. Burgoyne, looking along the sights ofthe rifle, hesitated to fire, for the shark and the swimmer were inline with the muzzle. He might hit the shark, but the bullet wouldthen ricochet and settle Strogoff into the bargain.
"Look out!" shouted the Third Officer. "Sharks!"
At the warning the pirate-lieutenant turned his head just in time tosee the monster's dorsal fin disappear. The shark was turning on itsback in order to seize its prey.
With a blood-curdling scream Black Strogoff threw up his arms anddisappeared.
Thirty seconds later the boat was over the spot, where anever-widening circle of ripples surrounded the blood-tinged patchthat indicated the manner of Black Strogoff's death.
Burgoyne, pale under his tan, slipped the safety-catch of his rifle,laid the weapon in the stern-sheets, and resumed the tiller. As hedid so he noticed that the boat's bottom boards and gratings wereawash.
Kicking aside the stern-sheets grating, Alwyn felt for the plug. Itwas in position and jammed hard into the bung-hole.
"We've sprung a leak!" exclaimed Mostyn, stating an obvious fact;then, laying aside his oar, he quickly extracted a cartridge from oneof the rifles, and inserted the bullet in a small hole just under themiddle thwart.
Peter and Jasper exchanged meaning glances. One of the two had firedthe shot that had completely penetrated both sides of the boat,although one of the holes was above water-line. Each, by that glance,tried to insinuate that the other was the culprit, at the same timeproving that the shot that had disabled Black Strogoff was his.
"We'll appraise responsibility when we've finished the job," declaredBurgoyne. "Now, steady all. Give way."
Keeping a keen watch on the apparently deserted schooner, the ThirdOfficer steered the boat
in her direction, holding a rifle ready tofire at the first sign of resistance.
"Easy all! Lay on your oars," ordered Burgoyne.
The boat, being bluff-bowed and laden, soon lost way, drifting idlyat a distance of about twenty yards from the schooner.
Burgoyne fancied he heard a scuffling sound like metal being draggedacross the deck. It might have been the grinding of the badly securedmain-boom and yard as the vessel rolled sluggishly in the gentleswell.
"Take both oars, Minalto," continued Burgoyne. "Peter, old son, standby with a rifle. Unless I'm much----"
Before he could complete the sentence the head and shoulders of anegro appeared above the low bulkhead. There was a flash, and abullet sung past Burgoyne's right ear.
The rifles of the two Englishmen cracked in unison. Leaping a fullthree feet in the air, the negro fell writhing across the rail, and,slowly overbalancing, toppled into the sea.
The boarders waited, finger on trigger, for a full minute. All wasquiet on board. Burgoyne judged it prudent to take possession of thecraft.
"Stroke ahead, Jasper.... Good enough."
Minalto fended off the dinghy as she ranged up alongside. Then,holding the slack of the painter in his left hand, he grasped themain shrouds and swung himself on to the chain-plate.
Burgoyne was about to follow Minalto's example when Jasper,relinquishing his hold and raising a shout of alarm, fell backwards.Missing the gunwale of the boat by a hair's-breadth, he fell with aterrific splash into the water. Where his hand had been grasping thebulwark not a second before, a glittering knife was quivering, itspoint sunk an inch deep into the teak rail.
Leaving Jasper to shift for himself, Burgoyne leapt on deck just intime to see Ah Ling disappearing into a low deck-house just for'ardof the wheel.
The door crashed to. Alwyn could hear the Chinaman hurriedlybarricading it. Then a spurt of flame leapt from one of the sidescuttles, and a revolver bullet chipped the mainmast.
"Keep where you are, Peter!" shouted Burgoyne. "I'll manage this partof the show. Where's Minalto?"
"In t' boat," replied that worthy.
"Hurt?"
"No, sir."
"Then stay there," said the Third Officer peremptorily.
Burgoyne had already thrown himself flat upon the deck behind theraised coaming of the main hatch. With his rifle by his side heexposed no more than a part of his head, his right shoulder and armto the fire of the trapped Chinaman.
Ah Ling was evidently prepared to put up a stiff fight. With Orientalfatalism he seemed to realize that his chance of escape was hopeless,but at the same time he had no intention of surrendering. Nor hadBurgoyne any desire to invite the Chink to give himself up, for withAh Ling a prisoner the fugitives would be constantly in fear that theCelestial would free himself. And Alwyn had had experience of theferocity and diabolical cunning of Chinese.
"'Tany rate," he soliloquized. "It's a fair scrap. One against one,not three."
A hand grasping an automatic appeared through one of the scuttles onthe port side of the deck-house. Burgoyne promptly fired at it. Thehand remained, although the marksman felt sure that at thatcomparatively short range it was impossible to miss.
Ejecting the still-smoking cylinder, Burgoyne thrust anothercartridge into the breech, keeping the cut-off of the magazine closedin order to provide against the possibility of a blind rush on thepart of his yellow antagonist.
At the second shot the automatic fell to the deck and the hand waswithdrawn. Yells of pain issued from the deck-house.
"That's got him!" ejaculated Burgoyne, and, springing to his feet, herushed towards Ah Ling's retreat. It was a false, almost fatal move,for as the Third Officer emerged from behind the cover of thehatchway a tongue of flame leapt from the deck-house close to therise of the door-step. The bullet literally sent some of theEnglishman's hair flying.
Partly dazed by the nickel missile, Burgoyne retained sufficientpresence of mind to drop flat upon the deck and wriggle back to hiscover, but not before Ah Ling had fired two more shots that werequite ineffectual.
Burgoyne decided that he was up against a tough proposition. He hadto take into consideration the fact that he was not only fighting awell-armed man but a wily one into the bargain. Ah Ling had certainlygot the best of the first round, for Alwyn's rifle was lying on thedeck beyond reach of his hand and in an uninterrupted line of firefrom the deck-house.
"That hand was a dummy," decided Burgoyne. "The whole time the Chinkwas lying on the deck waiting for me. When I get hold of that rifleagain, I'll let him know what's what."
He scorned the idea of calling upon his comrades to throw him anotherrifle, nor would he entertain the suggestion that they should join inthe scrap. Somehow it didn't seem quite British. The odds were level,and that appealed to his sense of fair play.
Keeping close to the deck, Burgoyne crawled to the base of themain-mast, thanking his lucky stars that nine inches of heavy oakfaced with iron comprised the construction of the main-hatch coaming.That was sufficient to stop a bullet, otherwise Ah Ling would haveraked the woodwork and rendered the Englishman's position untenable.
From the spider band of the main-mast Alwyn took a coil of lightrope. With this he retraced his course, and, arriving at his"sniper's post", proceeded to throw a bight of the rope over therifle until it engaged in the upturned bolt.
"That's the ticket!" he chuckled, as he retrieved the weapon. "Now,my festive Chink, you're going to have the time of your life."
Aiming at the lower part of the door at a height of a foot oreighteen inches from the deck, Burgoyne sent bullet after bulletcrashing through the woodwork; then, varying the performance, hepeppered the whole exposed front of the deck-house indiscriminatelyuntil he could see daylight through it.
Not a sight nor a sound of the Celestial could be seen or heard.
"No hurry," decided Alwyn, bearing in mind his former rashness. "ByJove! This is where a stink-bomb would come in jolly handy."
"When you've done smashing up his happy home, old bird!" sung outMostyn from the dinghy, "where do we come in?"
"You sit tight," replied Burgoyne. "The Chink very nearly pipped me.He's as artful as a waggon-load of monkeys. I'll let you know whenyou're wanted."
Placing his rifle by his side, Alwyn resumed his passive attitudetowards the silent and invisible Celestial. There could be verylittle doubt, he reasoned, that Ah Ling had survived that fusillade.
For quite five minutes he remained on the alert, but a strange,uncanny silence seemed to brood over that bullet-riddled structure.
"I'll put in five more rounds," he decided. "Then I'll investigate atclose quarters. The blighter must be done in absolutely by thistime."
He was on the point of carrying his intention into effect when Mostynhailed excitedly:
"He's done you, my festive! The Chink's half-way to shore."
Burgoyne sprang to his feet and looked over the side. Swimmingtowards the little inlet was a Chinaman, bareheaded and with hispigtail trailing in the water. Ah Ling, he knew, wore a pigtail. Veryfew of the Chinese pirates did, but he was evidently not a believerin the Western craze that was sweeping over the yellow republic. Butit might be just possible that there had been a third man on boardthe schooner.
Unhesitatingly the Third Officer ran aft and peered into the riddleddeck-house. It was empty as far as human beings were concerned. Therewere a couple of rifles and several pistols, while raised at an angleof about 45 degrees to the floor was a sheet of steel that, while notstout enough to stop a direct hit, was capable of deflecting anobliquely striking bullet.
Unseen and unheard, Ah Ling had abandoned his defences and hadslipped over the taffrail. He was now within fifty yards of theshore, where, to the horror of Burgoyne and his companions, HildaVivian was standing gazing with perplexity at the captured schooner.