CHAPTER XII
THE "DUKE OF NEGROPONT"
Bang! went another quickfirer, and the accompanying screech denoted the fact that the pirates had let loose a shell. Another and another, followed by a couple of detonations and the rending of steel as the powerful missile burst.
Then the Independencia turned 45 degs. to port, and the object of her unwelcome attentions came into the view of the prisoners in the cabin.
"You're right, Cardyke," exclaimed the sub. "It's a West Indian liner; I can see by her funnels."
"British," announced the mid., as a waft of air partially cleared the smoke that was issuing from her steerage, revealing the red ensign fluttering from her ensign-staff. "They've blown her bridge and chart-house to smithereens."
"And planked a couple of shells through her quarters," added Fielding. "I wonder she doesn't make a dash for it, instead of slowing down."
Did the sub. but know it he might have realised the cause of the British vessel's apparent lack of enterprise. The ship was the Duke of Negropont, four days out from New Orleans. Lured by the display of distress signals from the Independencia, the liner had altered helm, and borne down upon the seemingly crippled cruiser. Then a shot was fired across the liner's bows, while the white ensign fluttered down from the cruiser's stern, and was replaced by the red flag of anarchy.
The skipper of the Duke of Negropont had received due warning of the depredations of the Independencia, but since it was reported that the pirate was seen in the vicinity of the Straits of Gibraltar he never for one moment associated the vessel flying the white ensign with the modern buccaneer. But directly the first shell whizzed across the Duke of Negropont's bows the captain of the liner ordered full speed ahead, at the same time starboarding his helm.
The next two shots, fired in deadly earnest, completely demolished the navigating bridge and chart-house, and wiped the skipper and the chief officer out of existence. The concussion and the sweeping away of the bridge brought the engine-room telegraph back to "stop," and the liner, losing way, brought up within a hundred yards of her aggressor.
Still covered by the Independencia's guns, the prize was boarded by two boats' crews, and the method of despoiling the liner was almost identical with that of the two previous captures.
There was, however, one departure. The second officer of the Independencia, a Spaniard who spoke English fairly well, gave orders for the Duke of Negropont's wireless operators to be brought before him. The senior, a man of twenty-three years of age, resolutely refused to transmit the message his captor dictated. Twice Gonzales, the second officer, ordered him, using threats of instant death should he refuse.
"No tricks," exclaimed Gonzales, menacingly. "I understand what you telegraph, so do as I say."
Then it was that the owners of the Duke of Negropont received the message:—
"Independencia in collision with unknown
vessel, 4.45 a.m. Lat. 40-22-10 N., Long.
22-9-16 W. Both sank; no survivors."
Directly this decoy message was sent, the wireless gear was destroyed, and the pirates proceeded to loot the ship. But they had reckoned without the British engineers and firemen, and some of the junior officers and deck-hands who had taken refuge below.
Ignoring the indicator pointing to stop, the chief engineer restarted the engines to full speed ahead, and simultaneously a swarm of men, armed with cross-bars, shovels, and rakes, and led by their officers with revolvers in their hands, rushed on deck. Taken by surprise, and alarmed by the hitherto apparently motionless vessel gathering way, the two boatloads of pirates were borne back. Men fell on both sides, but British valour prevailed, and in less than five minutes the survivors of the boarding-party were swimming for their lives in the wake of the Duke of Negropont.
Through the scuttle Fielding and his companions watched with mingled feelings the boarding and subsequent repulse of the pirates, and as the liner forged ahead the two British officers gave vent to a cheer. But their exultation was nipped in the bud, for Juan Cervillo, wild with fury, ordered the quick-firers to hull the Duke of Negropont between wind and water.
Three shots were sufficient. With an ever-growing list to port the liner sank lower and lower by the stern, her speed grew less and less, till a column of steam issuing amidships showed that the water had entered her engine-room.
Suddenly Cervillo's attention was directed towards a large vessel nearly hull down on the horizon. The look-out aloft reported that it was a four-funnelled craft, with white hull and yellow superstructure. Then the Spaniard realised that he was in a tight corner, for the oncoming vessel was a United States cruiser.
Without waiting to pick up the survivors of the boarding party, he ordered the Independencia to be driven at full speed ahead, and was soon in full flight in a southerly direction.
The cruiser flying the stars and stripes was the West Virginia, whose captain had been warned to keep a look-out for a possible encounter with the pirate cruiser Independencia, of a supposed speed of twenty-two knots, but in reality doing a bare twenty. Pelting along as hard as her 23,000 horse-power engines could drive her, she was just in time to rescue the survivors of the Duke of Negropont's passengers and crew who had taken to the boats. Ten men of the pirate cruiser were also picked up.
The delay in performing the work of rescue saved the Independencia from capture, and although the West Virginia hung on doggedly in pursuit, and sent off wireless calls for assistance, daylight found the American cruiser alone in a waste of waters, with never so much as a trail of oil from the fugitive ship to indicate her position.
It was a near shave for Juan Cervillo. Not for one instant did he expect to fall in with a cruiser so far from the shores of Florida, and had it not been for a seaman giving a casual glance round, the West Virginia might have approached within range of her 8 in. guns before being discovered. The last venture had failed disastrously. The prize had slipped through his fingers without so much as one ounce of bullion being taken from her. Forty of his men were lost—a serious item—although, as their comrades remarked with callous indifference, there were fewer left to share the booty. Worst of all the United States cruiser would proclaim it far and wide that the pirate ship was on the fringe of West India waters.
The management of the Independencia was practically in Juan Cervillo's hands. It was he who decided what was to be done, and in which direction the course was to be. He rarely consulted with his subordinates as to the plan of action. In this case he acted independently. He resolved to steer eastward for twelve hours, then head northward to the Arctic Circle, where he would be comparatively secure till the vigilant watch was relaxed. If he could cross the steamship tracks betwixt the Old and New Worlds without being discovered, well and good. If tackled by a man-of-war he must exercise trickery in order to escape. If he should fall in with a liner he would capture her, taking good care that she left no trace behind her.
Having laid his plans Cervillo retired to his cabin, and touched a bell. In response to the summons a petty officer appeared.
"Take a guard with you, and bring the English officer here," he ordered. "See that he is properly secured, and that the fellow does not have the least chance to do mischief."
Five minutes later Fielding, with his hands securely fastened behind his back, was led into the Spaniard's presence. For a few moments neither man spoke, but stood looking at each other as if to detect a weak spot in their respective armour.
"Señor officer," began Cervillo, languidly resting himself and lighting a cigar, "the time is for explanation. I hold you prisoner —you and the other I took from the captured ships. If men-of-war come, then I place you on deck so they no can fire—see? Good! Now I tell you fair, we go north to sea of ice. P'r'aps we fall in with English or American warship. If not, den no necessity for you to stop—unless you 'gree to pay ransom."
"Precious little ransom you'll get out of me, you rogue!" interrupted the sub.
"Precious little?" repeated Cervillo, arching his eyebrows. "We see soon. No can keep without pay; no pay, den we put you and your comrades ashore. Cold, señor; no food—all ice and snow—die miserably. That I swear."
"Carry on, then," remarked Fielding, coolly.
"What you mean—carry on?" demanded Cervillo.
"Do your worst, you white-livered sweep. There's a hangman's rope waiting for you, sure enough. Already you're a doomed man.
"Quien sabe?" said the Spaniard. "But be assured, señor, you will not be there to see the spectacle. I say no more. Tink over my words, and if you no write promise to pay thirty hundred English pounds—an' your companions, they, too, will pay—then I will do what they call maroon—eh?"
The interview was at an end. The guard closed around the young sub-lieutenant, and walking as firmly as he could—for Fielding was somewhat hampered by the muzzle of a revolver being jammed into his boot—he passed disdainfully out of Cervillo's cabin.
The Spaniard meant to keep his word this time. Although he realised that an order on a British banker might in all probability be difficult to convert into ready money, there was a chance that his agents might be able to realise on the draft. Should the order be forthcoming, Cervillo would be willing to spare the lives of his hostages, although, once in the almost deserted Arctic, they would be of no use as deterrents to gun-fire. On the other hand Cervillo knew that he had already been guilty, not merely of piracy, but of murder on the high seas, and one or two more crimes would make very little difference. He would either bend or break the Englishman's stubborn character.
But there were more important matters for the pirate captain's attention. Within the next forty-eight hours the Independencia would be in the thick of the liner-track across the Atlantic. Without doubt a chain of cruisers would by this time be stationed at comparatively close intervals between Cape Clear and Cape Race. The risks of detection were great; but should the gauntlet be run in safety the wily Spaniard would have plenty of opportunity of devising a means whereby he could save himself and the rich booty at the expense of his rascally crew.