CHAPTER XXVI
Harborough's Ruse
It was not until sunset that Villiers was forced to admit the probability that misfortune had overtaken Alec Claverhouse. The majority of the other fellows had already taken pessimistic views upon the subject of the airman's failure to return. Even Harborough, although he said little, was far from hopeful. He realized that the responsibility of the flight rested upon him, and he reproached himself for sending Alec on the trip, when, with very little trouble, the Titania might have proceeded to investigate the state of the rival expedition.
"Alec knows his job thoroughly," declared Trevear; "if he's been forced to come down the old bus will float."
"Unfortunately, Nua Leha's dead to windward," remarked Merridew.
"And Ni Telang's dead to leeward," added Beverley. "Of course he might have found that things were in a bad way with the Zug, and in that case he would have landed to offer assistance."
"It's no use kagging and hanging on to the slack," said Harborough briskly. "We'll take the Titania and search for him. Not at once, though. On a night like this it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If we start an hour before dawn, it will be daylight when we reach the farthest easterly position he's likely to be, after making due allowance for the drift of the sea-plane. Tell off a couple of hands to remain here, Mr. Villiers. The rest will go on board; they may be more than useful."
With this cryptic utterance Harborough led the way to the boats. Fortunately, there were plenty of tinned and preserved provisions on board the Titania, and she was practically ready for sea at half an hour's notice. Before midnight the remaining boats were hoisted in, the cable hove short, and the sail covers taken off; while, in case Claverhouse should make for the island during the hours of darkness, the searchlight was run in a vertical direction to serve as an aerial signpost.
All hands with the exception of the look-out then turned in to make up much needed arrears of sleep, for neither ashore nor afloat had they had a wink of sleep during the previous night, and had been working at high pressure during the succeeding day.
At 4 a.m. the duty watch was called, and twenty minutes later the Titania passed through the gap in the reef under power alone. Directly she rounded the north-eastern extremity of the reef all plain sail was made and the heavy oil engines shut down. For the present, speed was neither necessary nor desirable.
The first streaks of dawn found the yacht ten miles from Nua Leha, doing about five knots before a steady following breeze. A merchantman entering the danger-zone during the height of the unrestricted U-boat campaign could not have kept a sharper look-out than did the crew of the Titania for any sign of the overdue Cormorant.
It was noon before the peaks of Ni Telang showed above the blue horizon. Only once had the Titania altered her course, and that was to run two miles to the nor'ard to investigate a floating object that turned out to be a large open crate, possibly washed from the deck of a tramp during the hurricane.
"We'll pay friend von Giespert a visit," said Harborough. "Probably he'll wonder what we want, probably he won't. Time will prove."
The Titania was from two to three miles from the reef when Swaine, who had betaken himself to the cross-trees and was making good use of his powerful binoculars, hailed the deck.
"There's the sea-plane, sir," he announced. "Close to the beach, about a hundred yards to the right of that dark bluff."
Harborough, closely followed by Villiers and Bobby Beverley, swarmed up the rigging. There was little doubt about it. They could distinguish what looked like the sea-plane, floating head to wind, at about a quarter of a mile from the Zug's berth. Even as they looked a wreath of haze drifted down and hid a considerable portion of the island from view.
"Wonder if von Giespert's spotted us?" said Harborough, as the three men regained the deck, leaving Swaine to perform the task of conning the yacht through the passage between the reefs. "They've got the Cormorant right enough, unless our eyesight's very much at fault. Let's only hope that Claverhouse is safe."
Villiers went for'ard to see that the anchor was ready for letting go, and the anchor-buoy ready for streaming. He had not been there more than a couple of minutes before Swaine hailed again.
"Haze's cleared," he reported; "but I can't see the sea-plane."
The anchorage was now clearly visible from the deck, and, as the mast-head man had stated, there was not a sign of the Cormorant.
"Either she's been spirited away," thought Villiers, "or else we've been victims of an hallucination."
It was a tricky passage into the lagoon, for a fairly heavy ground-swell, hardly perceptible off the island, made the Titania evince a tendency to yaw just at the critical moment. Scraping a ledge of coral by a none-too-wide margin, she gained the sheltered lagoon, rounded-to, and dropped anchor.
Before the canvas was lowered and stowed a boat was observed putting off from the Zug, but Claverhouse was not one of its occupants. Seated in the stern-sheets in a white drill uniform was von Giespert.
"Good-day, Sir Hugh," hailed the German, when the boat was within twenty yards of the yacht. "Your visit surprises me. I hope you are aware that the time-limit you imposed is not yet half expired?"
"I am perfectly aware of that, Herr von Giespert," replied Harborough. "We are here on a very different business. I understand that one of my sea-planes is here."
"Sea-planes?" repeated von Giespert, with well simulated astonishment. "I do not understand."
"Let me enlighten you," said Harborough, and proceeded to outline his version of what had taken place.
"You are obviously mistaken," persisted the owner of the Zug. "Look where you will there is no seaplane of any description here. Perhaps you are misled by taking that tent for the missing machine. And as regards your aviator, you may accept my assurance that it would be a pleasure to me to be able to restore him to you. Unfortunately, since he is not here, that is impossible."
Harborough's brows contracted.
"I have the right to search the island," he declared bluntly. "Are you prepared to give me permission to search your ship?"
Von Giespert assumed an air of injured dignity. Up to the present he had played his part well, for, the moment the approaching Titania had been sighted, he had sent a boat ashore and had quickly scuttled the Cormorant by the simple expedient of smashing the floats.
"Your request is an insult, sir," he replied. "As such I can only refuse it. To accede would be throwing away my dignity. Remember, that ship flies the German flag, and England is now at peace with Germany. Virtually, the Zug is German territory, and should you persist——"
"You would resist by force of arms, eh?" added Harborough.
Von Giespert hesitated. To admit that would also be acknowledging that he feared the result of the search.
"No, no," he replied; "but I would at once make for the nearest port where there is a German Consular Agent and enter a complaint of the outrage to the German flag."
"Then there is no more to be said," rejoined Harborough, and, ignoring the Hun, he turned and went below.
"We are certainly in a bit of a fix," he admitted, conferring with Villiers and Beverley. "There's something fishy about this business. I'm rather inclined to arm a boat and board the Zug, but if Claverhouse isn't on board then we'll let ourselves in for damages. I couldn't swear positively that I saw the sea-plane, neither could you. We saw something which we took to be the Cormorant, and, taking it for granted, we allowed an illusion to get the better of us."
Both Villiers and Beverley admitted that they might have been mistaken. The powers of suggestion which had, as they now thought, conjured up the sea-plane, had now destroyed the belief.
"We're wasting time," continued Harborough. "Claverhouse may be drifting farther and farther away every moment. We'll weigh and run a hundred miles to leeward, if necessary. I won't throw away a single chance of getting him back."
He went on deck and gave orders for the cable to be hove in. Under the action of the powerful capstan twenty fathoms came on board easily and rapidly; then came a decided check.
"Foul bottom," declared Villiers, as he leant over the cathead and peered into the clear water. "The fluke's caught in a rock, I'm afraid. We'll try tripping the hook."
Accordingly, the nun-buoy was fished on board, and the slack of the stout hempen rope that led between it and the crown of the anchor was hauled in until the yacht's bows were right over the anchor.
Every available man tailed on to the rope, but even with the aid of a tackle the anchor stubbornly refused to leave the bed of the lagoon.
"And we haven't a diving-dress on board," lamented Swaine.
"I'm not going to borrow one from the Zug, in any case," said Harborough resolutely. "Avast heaving and slack away. I'll get power on the ship and see what that will do. Something's bound to go."
Something did. With both engines running at full speed, the yacht forged ahead until the cable snubbed and her bows dipped a good two feet below the water-line. Then with a heavy lurch the Titania held on, the fluke of her anchor grinding on the coral bottom.
Getting way off the ship Harborough ordered the cable to be hove-in. This time the links came in steadily but slowly. There was more than the weight of the anchor at the end of the massive chain.
Suddenly Villiers gave a shout of astonishment.
"At that!" he ordered, and at the same time motioning to the hand at the capstan to stop heaving. "Evidence!" he shouted. "We've fished up the remains of the Cormorant."
This time there was no doubt about it. One of the flukes was embedded in the sea-plane's motor, and with it was a large portion of one of the wings, a part of the wreckage of the fuselage, and a float bearing unmistakable signs of being stove in by means of an axe.
"That's conclusive," said Harborough sternly. "Since von Giespert won't listen to reason, I'll have to teach him a lesson. Get that piece of wing aboard for evidence, although I guess he's tumbled to it already. He's been watching us all the time, the blackguardly sweep. We'll bluff him. If that fails, then we'll use force, but only as a last resource. He's asking for it all the time."
Kaspar von Giespert took more than an interested view of the developments of the next hour. He was considerably perturbed when, through a telescope that decorously protruded through a gap in a storm-dodger, he watched the impromptu salvage operations of the scuttled sea-plane.
He took a more cheerful view of life when the Titania got under way and proceeded seawards, but at the same time that evolution considerably mystified him. He could not understand why the Englishman should retire so tamely from the argument when he had undisputable evidence to support his case.
Von Giespert was on the point of shaking hands with himself and abusing some of his crew—an indication that he was regaining his normal state of mind—when Strauss announced that the Titania had turned sixteen points to starboard and was again making for the island.
"We'll fight her," declared von Giespert vehemently, for he realized that the game was a desperate one. "Serve out the arms, Herr Strauss. Himmel! What would I give now for a submerged torpedo-tube? Would that she piled herself upon the reef. She nearly did it last time."
"Harborough is more cautious this time," observed Strauss. "He's coming in under power."
"He is, curse him," growled the other.
The two Germans watched in silence as the Titania, with her exhaust chortling noisily, passed through the narrow gap and starboarded helm, steering for the opposite part of the lagoon to that where the Zug lay at anchor. That was another puzzler to the already bewildered von Giespert.
Presently the yacht reversed engines and lost way broadside on to and at about a mile from her rival. Then, to the consternation of the crew of the Zug, a large gun, of a calibre certainly not less than 4.7 inches, was ominously visible betwixt fore- and main-masts. Simultaneously, and without any preparatory signal, a hoist of the letters VOX—"I am going to semaphore to you"—fluttered from the Titania's main truck.
Slowly, reluctantly, the answering pennant was displayed from the Zug.
"I thought you informed me that yonder yacht was unarmed," exclaimed von Giespert, turning furiously upon his henchman, Strauss.
"She was when we left Southampton, Herr Kapitan," replied Strauss. "That I can swear to, because we had her under observation all the time. Of course, she might have——"
"They're semaphoring," interrupted von Giespert. He himself could not follow the quick movements of the red and yellow hand-flags, but most of the Zug's crew could. More than that, they could read the peremptory message although it was sent in English.
"Hand over my airman, Claverhouse, instantly," it read, "or I will blow your bridge and charthouse to blazes."
Von Giespert chose the first alternative.
Three quarters of an hour later the Titania, with Alec Claverhouse once more on board, was bowling along at a steady nine knots for Nua Leha.
Then it was that Harborough, with a playful movement of one hand, toppled the formidable 4.7 inch gun through the hatch into the fore-hold. The mounting followed with a distinctly "tinny" sound. The feat was an easy one, since the "gun" consisted of a twelve-foot length of stove-pipe, and the mounting a piece of sheet iron and an empty oil-drum.
"So friend von Giespert is breathing out threatenings and slaughter, eh?" he laughed. "From what I know of him, his bark is worse than his bite, but we'll have to watch him pretty carefully in the future."