CHAPTER XII
THE BATTLE ON THE BRIDGE
Now, it was all very well for Captain Riggs and me to sit down there inthe forecastle of the _Kut Sang_ and consider ways and means of savingourselves and the steamer from the Devil's Admiral; but, although we mademany plans, we had to drop them all. There was no way out of the placeexcept through the scuttle, and we worked at that and schemed about it;but the wooden frame was bound inside with steel ribs, and on the outsidewith chains, and we had no tools equal to the task. Nothing but ajack-screw could wrench the covering from the deck.
When the starboard ports turned gray with the light of morning we hadgiven up. There was nothing to do but wait for something to happen, andall we could foresee was our doom in the vessel.
The sea had calmed, and Captain Riggs unscrewed one of the ports andlooked out just as the sun popped up over the hills of the Philippinecoast.
"Land!" shouted Captain Riggs, as he opened the port, and I climbed up onthe bunks and opened a port for myself. "That's the Zambales coast ofLuzon, and they have been making a good easting all night; but we arerunning north now--see that point ahead? It's really an island--theLittle Sister, I am sure--and Dasol Bay lies to the north up the channelbetween the island and the mainland. He's running to get into thatchannel behind the island and scuttle her there--he knows his business."
In a few minutes the island stood clear of the coast, and I could make itout, low and green and fuzzy, with a rim of white sand running back tothe fringe of the jungle and a ruffle of combers on the shingle. We couldhear the boom of the waves ashore, beating at the base of the barrenbrown hills of the coast.
"He's well off the track of the steamers here," said Riggs, "but he won'tdelay much longer now, unless he can get in behind the island and then hecan take his own time, because he can pick up a sail before he is sightedthrough the ends of the channel. That island caps a little bay, and he'llbe snug as a bug in a rug to do his work. Let's have a look on deck andsee what's up."
Rajah leaped out of his bunk, and, after looking around for a minute inconfusion at his strange quarters, drank the water we had saved for himin the pannikin, and then put his face to a port-hole and surveyed theland.
I took the lead up the companion with the pistol ready, hoping that oneof the pirates might be close to the tiny slit I had cut in the board andwould offer a target. I applied my eye to the hole.
The Rev. Luther Meeker, still in his suit of duck and pongee shirt andbattered pith helmet, just as I had seen him on the mole in Manila, waspacing the bridge in the calm, commanding way that marks the manaccustomed to command. He was puffing contentedly at a cigar, and therewas something amusing in the manner in which he cocked his head to oneside to survey the sea and then the land with a critical eye.
From side to side he tramped, swinging on his heel at each end of thebridge like a grenadier sentry, and giving Petrak, who had the wheel, astern look as he passed. Buckrow was at the port end of the bridge, witha glass to his eyes scanning the rim of the sea; but Meeker, or Thirkle,kept aloof from his men, and he might well have been an admiral on thebridge of his flagship--the Devil's Admiral, indeed!
"Take a look at them," I whispered to Riggs, and made way for him at thescuttle peephole.
"Blast him!" raged Riggs as he saw the scene on the bridge. "I neverthought I would live to see the like of that!"
"But how does he keep her engines going? The fireroom crew must know whathas happened," I said.
"What's left of 'em do," said Riggs. "He's likely got a few men below whothink they will get a share of the loot if they keep up steam. Perhapsthe Filipino chief is at his post keeping the chinkies going--leave thatto the devil on the bridge--he knows his game."
He drew back into the companion, and I looked out again. I could see apair of shoes sticking out past the donkey-engine, just abaft theforemast; but the machinery hid the man from me. Presently a strip ofcanvas fluttered in the breeze, and Long Jim stood up, with a sail-needleand a length of sail-twine in his teeth, and cut out a square oftarpaulin on the deck.
"Look at the cockney," I said to Riggs. "I can't make out what he is upto."
He studied the sailor for a minute, and then drew back and whispered:
"Sewing sacks to carry the gold away. They are getting ready to scuttleher. The starboard boats are hanging in the davits, ready to lower awaywhen we are behind the island. There is a channel a mile wide in there,and deep soundings. He may find an anchorage until night and then getaway in the dark, but I'm afraid he won't take that long, because heknows a coast-guard cutter is liable to spy him out. This coast is beingwatched pretty close by the navy and the Japs and the customs, becausethere is so much blockade-running."
"It may be that he is planning to maroon us on the island."
"That wouldn't be his way. The Devil's Admiral never leaves a man alive.Four men will get out of the _Kut Sang_, and you know who they are. Heain't the man to take a chance of meeting you or me, or even letting ustell about him. It's 'Dead men tell no tales' with him, you may be sureof that."
I took my turn at the little window, which was not wide enough to let themuzzle of my pistol through, or I would have fired upon them. Theyeach wore a pair of pistols, big, black, long-barrelled weapons.Thirkle's were quite plain, for he swung them from a belt over his whitejacket, as I could see when he approached the openings at each end of thebridge where the ladder-heads ended.
"It will take about an hour at this clip to have the island abeam," saidRiggs, after he had gone below and looked through the ports. "They aredriving her again. Likely he has an agreement with the black gang tostick to the fireroom; but whatever it is he won't keep his word. It'sdeath for every man Jack of 'em when he has finished with 'em."
Long Jim was plying the needle again, and Buckrow and Thirkle wereholding a conference at the wheel and studying a chart. I could see thered head of Petrak nodding to them as they submitted some point to him;but he kept his eyes ahead of the steamer, evidently steering for somepoint of land. Thirkle finally folded up the chart and tucked it inhis pocket; and Buckrow took his post again at the port end of the bridgeand studied the western horizon.
I saw a Chinese in blue nankeen come out of the starboard passage belowthe bridge and cautiously look up at the bridge. He did not see Long Jim,so intent was he on looking up; but when the cockney drew a pistol hescreamed shrilly and fled into the passage, his long queue sticking outbehind like an attenuated pennant, so swift was his flight.
Thirkle and Buckrow came down to the fore-deck and gathered the sackswhich Long Jim had fashioned. Before they went down the 'tween-deckscompanion Thirkle looked forward toward the forecastle and hesitated aminute, as if he were in doubt about our being secure enough. But he wentdown after the others, and we heard hammering behind the bulkhead again.
Petrak remained at the wheel, a jaunty figure with a white canvas cap onhis flaming head and one of Captain Riggs's best Manila cigars betweenhis teeth. He managed the wheel with one hand, holding a pistol readywith the other, and looking the ship over from time to time.
"They are steering to pass in behind the island," said Riggs, as I wentbelow. "It is about four miles ahead now, and they are at half steamagain, because the reefs are bad in here--coral-banks and ledges runningout from the mainland. When they get her in the lee of the island they'llmake a quick job of her, and us, too."
"If I don't make a quick job of them with the pistol," I said.
"You keep three bullets--you'll need them when the green water isspilling in here," and he gave me a significant look.
Despair was upon him again, but I could not bring myself to feel thatdeath awaited us. Weak and hungry and thirsty, life was still strong, andthe desire to live, if only to have vengeance on Thirkle and his men,kept up my courage.
"There is some way out--some way we can get the upper hand. When thewater comes in I'll be ready to give up, but not until then."
He smiled sadly and shrugged his shoulders, looking pityingl
y at Rajah,who was playing at some sort of a game with grains of rice in a pannikin.We went up the ladder again to see what the pirates were about, for itwas quite still in the hold, and silence seemed more ominous than atelltale clatter.
Buckrow and Long Jim came up with a bulging sack slung in a rope. Thirklegave them a hand up the ladder to the boat-deck, but he let them do thehard work.
Petrak slipped a lashing over the wheel and leaned over the bridge-rail,grinning down at them, and made some remark which caused Buckrow to laughso inordinately that he dropped his end of the rope, and the sack fell onthe head of the ladder. He pulled it up on the deck, and, thrusting hishand into his trousers-pocket, drew out a handful of gold coins andhurled them up at Petrak.
They struck the remnant of the storm-apron and rattled to the fore-deck,some of the glittering disks pelting Thirkle, who was halfway up theladder. Petrak threw out his hand to catch the coins, and I saw that hiswrists were still encircled by steel bands.
Thirkle reprimanded them, and Petrak went back to the wheel, and Buckrowand Long Jim hoisted the sack into the boat and stowed it. While Petrakheld the spoke of the wheel with one hand, he rasped at the iron upon itwith a file, cutting away the heavy manacle.
Riggs and I took turns at the scuttle, and saw Thirkle and Buckrow andLong Jim carry up a dozen or more sacks. Some were put in the secondboat, farther aft and out of the range of our vision, hidden as it wasfrom us by the corner of the superstructure.
During the time they were below we could hear them smashing thetreasure-chests. While they were busy in the storeroom I hacked away atthe scuttle-board, which was thick and of hard wood, well seasoned bycontinual wetting and drying in the tropic sun.
To make matters worse, I found that it was full of brass nails driven infrom the outside, and Riggs told me some sailor had put a border of nailsround the board and made a crude nameplate by spelling out the name ofthe vessel with nail-heads. The blade of my knife encountered thesenails, and I made slow work of cutting a hole large enough to admit themuzzle of our pistol.
When they had all the gold up they stowed the boats with tinned goods andcasks of water. Then they opened a bottle of wine and drank its contents,and Thirkle hurled it toward the forecastle, and it smashed on the ironplates within a few feet of us. Buckrow and Long Jim disappeared in thesaloon after this, and Thirkle looked his chart over again and motionedto Petrak to alter the helm.
"He's heading her in for the strait," said Riggs. "He had better allowfor that tide-rip that comes down through, or she'll have her head swunground at this speed before he knows where he is at."
The steamer seemed to be gradually losing headway, and the throbbing ofher engines was becoming less pronounced. I observed, also, that thesmoke from her funnel was beginning to hang over her and curl down uponthe bridge. But, in spite of her slowing down, the musical ripple at herbow increased, and Riggs said it was due to the set of the currentagainst us, which came through the channel very strong, as the island cutout a deep current and brought it to the surface of the sea in the narrowpassage between the island and the mainland.
"It's a bad hole in there," he said. "He needs more speed to handle herright in there and--"
"Something is up!" I told him, as I saw Thirkle listen a second and stepquickly to the engine-room telegraph and throw it over.
I could hear the sharp clang of the bell; but the next instant there wasa terrific roar, and the superstructure began to vomit steam through theengine-room skylight just abaft the little wheel-house.
"The boilers!" yelled Riggs. "She's blowing off, and there is asteam-pipe gone, or somebody below has opened her whole insides up."
The _Kut Sang_ was a white volcano amidships, and I saw Thirkle yellingfrantically, and Buckrow and Long Jim appeared in the passage below andyelled to Thirkle, waving their arms, and then dashed up the ladder tothe bridge.
Suddenly they started back and grouped themselves about Petrak at thewheel with drawn weapons, and the next instant I saw a half-dozen formsemerge from the welter of steam and dash at the pirates.
They were Chinese and Filipino stokers, but one of them seemed to be theleader, and he wore an engineer's cap and was stripped to the waist. Isaw the puffs of smoke from the pistols of the four pirates--Petrak puthis back to the wheel and fired over Thirkle's shoulder--but the awfulracket of the steam-pipes drowned the reports.
Two of the Chinese fell at the first volley, and a third, evidentlywounded, turned in his tracks and jumped over the rail. Another hackedviciously at Thirkle with a long knife, but he could not reach him.Thirkle stood with his feet wide apart, and his helmet on the back of hishead and fired coolly and swiftly.
The Filipino in the engineer's cap dropped the iron bar with which he hadadvanced in the rush, and put both hands to his stomach, and stood withinsix feet of Thirkle, looking at him in a surprised way, and finally threwup his hands as if he had lost his balance and curled over backward tothe deck.
A Filipino toppled over the bridge-rail and struck in a heap on thefore-deck, and lay still, but I could not tell whether it was the fall ora bullet that had killed him.
One Chinaman slid down the ladder-rail whirling like an acrobat in theair before he landed, and another followed him, but they were the twolast, and Buckrow and Long Jim started after them. The first started forthe forecastle and began to throw off the chains, standing between me andthe deck, so that I could not see what was happening for a minute. Heworked frantically, jabbering all the while, and, as I thought, callingto his companion.
He couldn't have been at work more than a minute, but to me it seemed anhour or more, and I prayed that he might succeed in opening the scuttle,and I wondered at his surprise if he should throw back the sliding-boardand see me come out with upraised pistol.
But a pistol spoke close at hand, and the narrow slit in the board let inthe sun again and I saw the Chinaman fall just outside. Buckrow and LongJim were running back to the bridge. Thirkle yelled something to them andthey nodded and went through the starboard passage.
The uproar of the escaping steam was dying out, and I told Riggs what Ihad witnessed. The Filipino in the cap was the chief engineer, and weknew that he had led a last sortie against the pirates, determined to diein a last effort to defeat them rather than be shot down or left todrown.
"Sally Ann!" said Riggs. "If that chinkie had cleared away the chainsthere we might have got out of here and put in a hand's work, too. Hewon't have steerage way on her--her engines have gone dead now. Feel herswing with that current?"
"They've started again," I said, feeling a tremor in the vessel.
"Here we go!" cried Riggs. "They've opened her sea-valves!"
We listened and stared at each other for a minute while the water suckedand gurgled and the _Kut Sang_ began to vibrate from the flood pouringinto her. Gradually her head began to swing to seaward away from theisland, as the current caught her, and, as I looked out I saw Thirkle andBuckrow in the forward boat, lowering away.
"There they go!" I yelled, and we dashed below, hoping that we would havea shot at them as they got clear of the vessel, but, as the ship wasswinging outward, and our ports were so far forward, we were keptswinging away from them, and all we had was a bare glimpse of the twoboats pulling away from the ship, one of them being towed.
The island was close at hand, a half-mile or more, although it seemedalmost within reach, but we lost sight of that in a minute as the head ofthe _Kut Sang_ stood toward the open sea, and her stern began to settle.
"They had to get out of her when Pedro cut her engines out andlowered her boilers. It rushed their game, because he wanted to hideher in behind the island, but it won't make much difference now, Mr.Trenholm--hear that? She's filling rapidly."
We were drifting broadside in the current now, sweeping down the coastand sinking at the same time.
I ran up the companion and began to struggle with the scuttle-boardagain, hoping that the Chinaman who was seeking shelter from the pirates'bullets had made i
t possible for us to escape. The board was looser, andI slipped it to one side nearly an inch, and then it jammed again.
"Trenholm! Trenholm!" yelled Riggs frantically from below.
"What is it?" I called, hating to lose a second in my efforts to get theboard free.
He did not answer, and I called to him again. Before the words were outof my mouth I was sprawling on all fours on the deck below.
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