The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER IV

  Under Fire

  When Alwyn reached that part of the deck where he had last seen thepassengers he found it deserted. Miles, at the report of thecruiser's quick-firer, had bolted below. Young Tarrant, with thecharacteristic inquisitiveness that an Englishman often shows even inthe most dangerous situations, had gone for'ard to investigate theresult of the damage. Colonel Vivian, his daughter, and the stewardwere bending over the deck-chair on which Mrs. Vivian had beenreclining. She was still reclining but in a very different condition,for as Burgoyne approached he heard the steward say:

  "I can't do any more, sir. Weak heart... the sudden shock... no, sir,no sign of life. I'll have to be going. There's work for me to do upthere." He indicated the bridge, where, between the gaping holes inthe canvas of the bridge rails, could be seen prostrate writhingforms amidst the pungent eddying smoke. Grasping his first-aidoutfit, the man ran along the deck, seemingly unmindful of the factthat more shells would soon be playing havoc with the devoted_Donibristle_.

  The steward's words were only too true. The sudden and unexpectedshock, when the cruiser dealt her cowardly blow, had deprived Mrs.Vivian of life. Never very strong, and suffering from a weak heart,she had died before either her husband or her daughter could get toher.

  It was no time for expressions of regret. Alwyn's instructions wereimperative. The passengers must be ordered below.

  "As sharp as you can, Colonel Vivian," he said; "we don't know whatthat vessel will do next."

  The colonel pointed to the deck-chair with its inanimate occupant. Hewas incapable of doing anything of a heavy nature by reason of hisinjured leg.

  Alwyn glanced at Hilda. The girl understood and nodded silently.Raising the burdened chair they carried it down the companion-way,the colonel following as quickly as his crippled limb would allow.

  "You'll be safe here, I think," he said, but in his mind he knew thatthere was no place on board the ship where immunity might be foundfrom those powerful 4-inch shells. He could only hope that Providencewould shield the gently-nurtured girl from those flying fragments ofred-hot steel. "I must go on deck," he added. "I'll let you know whenwe're out of danger."

  At the foot of the companion ladder he stopped and beckoned to thecolonel.

  "I may as well tell you," he said hurriedly, "the cruiser is apirate, her crew mostly Chinese. She does two knots to our one.You'll understand?"

  "I do," replied the colonel simply. He had faced peril and death manytimes, but never before had he done so with his wife and daughter.

  "You know where Mostyn's cabin is," continued Burgoyne. "There areplenty of his things and I'm afraid he won't want them. Tell MissVivian to change into his clothes, cut her hair short, and disguiseherself as much as she can. If it isn't necessary there's not muchharm done; if it is--well, you know, sir."

  The Third Officer gained the deck just as the _Donibristle_ hadcompleted her turning manoeuvre and was steadying on her helm. Hisquick glance took in the situation at a glance.

  "The Old Man's going to ram her, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "That's thestuff to give 'em."

  "Lie down, sir!" shouted a voice. "Skipper's orders."

  The warning came from one of a group of men prone upon the deck.Alwyn was quick to obey. He realized the result of a deadweight of6000 tons crashing into the side of a stoutly-built steel cruiser.

  Full length upon the quivering planks, for Angus had risen to theoccasion and the _Donibristle's_ engines were pulsating harder thanever they had done before, Burgoyne could not resist the temptationto raise his head and watch the proceedings.

  From his unusual point of vantage, for his eyes were only about eightinches above the deck, Burgoyne had the impression that he waslooking at a cinematographic picture, as the light-grey hull of thepirate cruiser not only seemed to increase in size but also movedquickly from left to right.

  "Now for it!" he thought, and braced himself anew to meet the shock.

  But the impact never came. Without doubt the black-hearted villainswho controlled the cruiser knew how to handle a vessel, for almostthe moment the _Donibristle_ starboarded helm, the pirate craft beganto forge ahead. Rapidly gathering speed, she contrived to elude themerchantman's bluff bows by a matter of a few feet. It was closeenough to enable some of the former's crew to hurl a couple of bombsupon the _Donibristle's_ deck, where they burst with little materialeffect, although the double explosion caused a momentary panicamongst the prostrate men in the vicinity.

  Captain Blair had shot his bolt. He realized the fact. Anotheropportunity to ram his opponent would not occur. He could onlyattempt to seek safety in flight, and that, he knew, was a forlornhope, owing to the vast difference in speed between the two ships.

  Giving the _Donibristle_ full starboard helm until she heeledoutwards a good fifteen degrees, the Old Man steadied her when shewas heading in a totally different direction to that of herassailant. In addition she was dead in the eye of the wind, and thesmoke pouring from her funnels, and from the three separateconflagrations on deck, served to put up a screen between her and thepirate. By the time the latter had turned in pursuit (she circledrapidly under the contrary action of her twin screws) the_Donibristle_ had gained a good two miles.

  "She'll be winging us in a brace of shakes," declared Captain Blair,as the steward deftly bound lint over the Old Man's forehead. "Clearout of this, Barnes. You fellows too. She's out to cripple us, not tosink the old hooker. I'll carry on by myself."

  The officers, quartermaster, and hands on the bridge had no option.They protested unavailingly. Captain Blair had a way of getting hisorders carried out. Reluctantly they obeyed. They knew that thebridge would be the principal objective of the hostile guns, that itwas doomed to destruction, and that the rest of the ship would comeoff lightly.

  Burgoyne received the Old Man's order when he was half-way up thebridge ladder. Full of admiration for the grim, resolute figure ofthe wounded skipper, standing in solitude upon the shell-wreckedbridge, he turned and gained the deck.

  A figure, crawling on hands and knees from underneath a pile ofshattered, smouldering woodwork, attracted the Third Officer'sattention. To his surprise he recognized Mostyn, the senior wirelessofficer Until that moment Burgoyne, like everyone who had seen thewireless cabin disappear with the explosion of the 4-inch shell, hadtaken it for granted that its occupant had been blown to pieces; butby one of those freaks of fate Mostyn had not only survived, but hadescaped serious injury. He had been temporarily stunned, bruised, andcut in a score of places, his one-time white patrol uniform wasscorched, torn, and discoloured, but he had emerged wrathful if nottriumphant.

  "The blighters!" he muttered. "Another twenty seconds and I'd havegot the message through. Can you get me something to drink, old son?"

  "I'll get you below, out of it," said Alwyn. "They'll reopen firesoon, I'm afraid."

  He bent to raise the wounded operator, but Mostyn expostulatedvehemently.

  "Don't," he exclaimed. "It hurts frightfully. I'll carry on by myselfif you'll stand by."

  He crawled painfully to the companion-way. There his bodily strengthgave out, and he collapsed inertly against the coaming. Finding thatMostyn was insensible and no longer capable of feeling pain, Burgoyneliterally gathered him in his arms and carried him below. Before hehad handed over his burden to the care of the steward, the shipquivered from stem to stern, and a hollow roar reverberated 'tweendecks. The pirate had reopened fire.

  Burgoyne regained the open. He did not feel particularly happy athaving to do so. It would have been preferable to remain in thecomparative shelter afforded by the thin steel plates and bulkheads.There was no reason why he should not take cover except that some ofhis comrades were exposed to the far-flying slivers of steel.

  The after funnel had carried away. Guided by the unsevered wire guysit had fallen inboard, and was lying diagonally across the riddledcasings and a couple of boats that were slung inboard. Smoke pouringfrom the base of the funnel was sweeping aft, hiding the b
ridge andfore part of the ship in a pall of oil-reeking, black vapour.

  He glanced astern. The pirate vessel was coming up hand over fist,and with a certain amount of caution had taken up a position on the_Donibristle's_ starboard quarter. She thus achieved a doublepurpose. She was no longer impeded by the smoke from her intendedprey; and there was no risk of her propellers fouling ropes andbaulks of timber deliberately thrown overboard from the merchantman.

  The pirate's bow gun spoke again, followed almost simultaneously bythe for'ard quick-firer of the starboard battery. A heavy objectcrashed upon the _Donibristle's_ deck from overhead. Owing to thesmoke the Third Officer could not see what it was.

  "Our other smoke-stack, I think," he soliloquized. "By Jove! What arethose fellows up to?"

  His attention was directed towards a group of men standing aft. Withan utter disregard of danger, seven or eight men were throwingarticles into one of the quarter-boats--their scanty personalbelongings, tins of provisions, and kegs of fresh water.

  "Belay there!" shouted Burgoyne. "Time enough when you get the orderto abandon ship. Take cover."

  Even as he spoke the staccato sound of a machine-gun came from thefor'ard superstructure of the cruiser. The luckless men, caught inthe open by the hail of nickel bullets, were swept away like flies.Nor did the machine-gun cease until every boat in davits on the_Donibristle's_ port side was riddled through and through. Splintersof wood flew in all directions. Metal bullets rattled like hailagainst the steel framework of the deck-houses, and zipped likeswarms of angry bees when they failed to encounter any resistancesave that of the air.

  By this time the speed of the _Donibristle_ had fallen to a bareseven knots. The destruction of both funnels and consequent reductionof draught had counteracted the strenuous efforts of Angus and theengine-room staff to "keep their end up". Far below the water-line,working in semi-darkness owing to the fact that the hammering towhich the boat had been subjected had broken the electric-lightcurrent, unable to see what was going on, the "black squad" toiledlike Trojans in the unequal contest with the fast and powerfullyarmed pirate.

  A glance astern showed the Third Officer that the _Donibristle_ wassteering a somewhat erratic course. The straggling wake was evidenceof that. Perhaps it was intentional on the Old Man's part in order tobaffle the pirate gun-layers; but Burgoyne decided to make sure onthat point.

  Crossing to the starboard side, so that the partly-demolished deckstructure might afford a slight amount of cover, Alwyn ran for'ard.Scrambling over mounds of debris and crawling under the wreckedfunnels he hurried, holding his breath as he dashed through thewhirling wreaths of smoke.

  At last he arrived at the starboard bridge ladder--or rather wherethe ladder had been. Only two or three of the brass-edged stepsremained. Here he paused. The edge of the bridge hid the skipper fromhis view. He retraced his steps for a few paces and looked again.There was the Old Man still grasping the wheel. The sides of thewheel-house were shattered, daylight showed through the flat roof,but Captain Blair remained at the post of honour and danger.

  It was evident that he had been hit again. One arm hung helplessly byhis side. The white sleeve of his tunic was deeply stained.

  Burgoyne hesitated no longer. He wondered why the Second Officer hadnot noticed the skipper's predicament, but the Second had followedthe First, and was lying motionless across the dismounted binnacle.

  Without waiting to cross over to the port side and ascend by thealmost intact ladder, Burgoyne swarmed up one of the steel railssupporting the bridge, and gained the dangerously swaying structure.

  The Old Man looked at him as he approached.

  "Women aboard," he muttered, like a man speaking to himself. "Womenaboard and the dirty swine are firing into us. Worse than Huns."

  "Shall I carry on, sir?" asked Burgoyne.

  "No," was the reply. "But--yes. Carry on, I've stopped somethinghere. Feel a bit dazed."

  He stood aside and allowed Alwyn to take his place at the wheel. Inthe absence of a compass there was nothing definite to steer by. The_Donibristle_, like a sorely-stricken animal, was merely staggeringblindly along at the mercy of her unscrupulous pursuer.

  Then it dawned upon the Third Officer that the cruiser had not firedfor some minutes. It was too much to hope that the pirate, sightinganother craft, had sheered off. He glanced aft, across thedebris-strewn decks, tenanted only by the dead. The pirate cruiserwas still there. She had closed her distance, and was about twocables' lengths on the merchantman's starboard quarter. She hadlowered the White Ensign, and now displayed a red flag with the skulland crossbones worked in black on the centre of the field. This muchAlwyn saw, but what attracted his immediate attention was the plainfact that he was looking straight at the muzzles of four of thepirate's quick-firers, and, as the cruiser forged ahead, thosesinister weapons were trained so that they pointed at themerchantman's bridge and the two men on it.

  Burgoyne realized that if those guns spoke he would not stand a dog'schance. Through long-drawn-out moments of mental torture he waitedfor the lurid flash that meant utter annihilation. He wanted toshout: "For Heaven's sake fire and finish with me."

  Yet the quick-firers remained silent, although not for one moment didthe weapons fail to keep trained upon the _Donibristle's_ bridge.There were machine-guns, too, served by yellow, brown, and whitefeatured ruffians, who were awaiting the order to let loose a tornadoof bullets upon the defenceless merchantman.

  The tension was broken by the appearance of a gigantic mulatto, who,clambering on to the domed top of the for'ard gun-shield, began tosemaphore a message. He sent the words slowly, coached by aresplendently-garbed villain who spelt out the message letter byletter.

  The signal as received read thus:

  "Surrend ers hip savey our lifs. Ifno tuues ink shipa ndnoq uarta."

  "What's that fellow signalling?" asked Captain Blair. Faint with lossof blood he could only just discern the slow motion of the colouredhand-flags.

  Burgoyne signified that the message was understood, and bent to speakto the wounded skipper.

  "They've signalled, 'Surrender the ship and save your lives; if notwe will sink you and give no quarter'."

  The Old Man raised himself on one elbow. The pulse on his uninjuredtemple was working like a steam piston.

  "Surrender the ship!" he exclaimed vehemently. "I'll see them toblazes first."