CHAPTER XXXI
Exit the "Zug"
"What's that made fast to the shot-line, old man?" inquired Beverley, as Villiers, divested of his helmet and diving-dress, sat in the stern-sheets of the boat that von Giespert had unwittingly given over to the Titania's people.
"That?" replied Villiers. "I dunno. Ballast, I expect. There are tons of it down there. Wonder if it's lead?"
"If so, it's a fortune for anyone who can get it back to England," observed Harborough, unclasping his knife and digging the point into the block of metal.
"Tough for lead," he commented, "and yet too soft for iron, unless the stuff's badly corroded. By Jove! Villiers! I believe—yes, I'm sure—it's silver."
"Regular Tom Tiddler's ground then," remarked Jack. "When we left England silver was soaring. Wonder what it's worth now?"
"At any rate, we won't fly in the face of Providence," declared Harborough. "A few days more won't matter very much. When we've finished with the Fusi Yama, we'll lift some of this stuff."
"There's enough to sink the Titania," declared Villiers. "The hold of that ship must have been chock-full of silver. Rum sort of ballast."
"Probably a Spanish treasure-ship or a buccaneering craft that sunk with her booty," suggested Claverhouse. "They did that sort of thing once, I believe."
"Then that's settled," declared Harborough briskly. "Finish with the Fusi Yama, and then carry on with the silver that friend von Giespert, by the hand of pal Strauss, kindly discovered for us. How's the glass, by the by? I forgot to look this morning."
"It rose a point and a half after eight," reported Villiers, "and now it is dropping rather too rapidly."
"H'm!" exclaimed Harborough. "That's bad. It may interfere with our work, and we can't afford to lose much more plant. We'll work double shifts, and keep our weather-eye lifting."
By sunset the task of clearing the Fusi Yama's strong-room was accomplished, and an hour later the last of the gold was safely on board the Titania—an event that was signalized by three hearty cheers and splicing the "mainbrace" with discreet tots of champagne.
The while the glass was falling rapidly, although not so low as on the occasion of the devastating hurricane. Nevertheless, every possible precaution was taken. The boats were hoisted in and lashed down, awnings and side-curtains stowed, and additional cable veered out. The engine-room stood by ready to start the heavy oil-engines, and thus ease the strain on the anchor-chains should occasion arise. All hands were on board, preferring to face the storm in a staunch craft anchored in a fairly-sheltered lagoon to risking a wet and uncomfortable, if not dangerous, night ashore.
At midnight it was blowing a gale, but, in contrast to the preceding storm, there was no preliminary rain—simply a terrific blast of wind that heralded an almost uninterrupted blow.
It started from the nor'-nor'-east, or obliquely to the coast-line off which the Titania lay at anchor. Although the noise of the breakers on the reef was like that of a continual roar of thunder, the lagoon itself was only slightly agitated.
But when, at about 3 a.m., the wind veered four points to the east'ard, the beach became a dead lee shore. Huge billows, crashing madly upon the coral reef, swept in masses of white foam across the lagoon and churned themselves upon the beach, until in the pale moonlight the palm groves appeared to be growing from an undulating field of white water.
Pounding and thudding, quivering under the terrific pressure of the wind, the Titania held grimly to her cables. At one moment full fifty feet of chain, stretched taut and obliquely like an iron bar, would be visible; the next the yacht would lurch forward as a giant roller passed her by, and would threaten to overrun her anchors, until she "snubbed" with a sickening jerk that almost tore the stout mooring bits from the deck.
"It won't last long," declared Villiers, as a hissing shower of rain mingled with the driving spindrift. "Wind before rain, you know. It'll ease down by dawn."
He was right. By sunrise, although the wind was still high, its force had moderated considerably, and the sun rose in a grey sky, betokening fine weather before many hours had passed.
"Vessel making for the island, sir," suddenly announced Merridew, pointing dead to windward.
"By Jove! It's the Zug!" exclaimed Harborough.
"No doubt about it, sir," agreed Villiers, after a lengthy survey through his binoculars. "Wonder what she's doing here?"
The Zug was steering due south, and, therefore, on a slightly diverging course from the eastern side of the island; but when immediately abeam of the entrance to the lagoon, she ported helm as if to approach the narrow gap in the coral reef.
"Either von Giespert's mad or he doesn't know the risk he's running," said Harborough. "Make him a signal, Villiers. Say 'bar unsafe'."
"He's flying some sort of signal, sir," reported Jack. "Can't make out the flags; they're dead to windward."
"If we can't see his, he can't see ours," observed Harborough. "But we'll risk it, and give him a chance."
"I've got it, sir," declared Beverley. "It signifies short of provisions '."
Harborough shrugged his shoulders.
"What's wrong with the pigs and the bread-fruit trees at Ni Telang?" he remarked pointedly. "If I were von Giespert, I would tighten my belt a notch before I'd tackle the entrance to the lagoon. There's one thing, the wind's moderating, but look at the broken water on the bar."
"It doesn't look so bad from seaward," said Merridew. "He'll feel sorry for himself when he's in the thick of it, I fancy."
With a following wind, the Zug was rolling heavily and frequently obscured from view by the thick cloud of smoke from her funnel. When quite a mile from the reef, she suddenly fell off her course, vast quantities of steam issuing from her engine-room. She lost way, and was now rolling excessively in the trough of the seas.
"Looks like a boiler-explosion," exclaimed Harborough, glancing over the side at the still tumultuous water within the reef. "We'll have to get the boats ready for lowering, Mr. Villiers. They'll be wanted pretty badly, I expect."
The Zug was doomed. Von Giespert had again overreached himself, although the crew of the Titania had no suspicion of his desperate move. Von Giespert's orders to his chief engineer had been carried out only too well. The main steam-pipe, unable to withstand the abnormal internal pressure, had burst, the explosion killing everyone in the boiler-room, while the escaping steam had severely injured the chief engineer and his assistants.
Helpless in the trough of the seas, the Zug was now drifting rapidly on to the reef. Von Giespert, after bellowing incoherencies, ordered a storm trysail to be set in the hope that the vessel's head would pay off. But the moment the canvas was hoisted it blew to atoms.
As a last resource both anchors were let go. Owing to the depth of water outside the reef, it was a long time before they obtained a grip. When they did, the Zug was within two hundred yards of the coral barrier.
Momentarily she swung to her cables, then with a vicious snub both chains parted simultaneously. Seven minutes later, with a crash that was audible above the roar of the breakers, the Zug ended her career upon the outer reef of Nua Leha.