“Perhaps they did--later,” suggested Mr. Henderson, “but they cannot escape us. They have only twenty-four hours’ start, we can make twice the freighter’s speed, and the nearest port is a good thirty-six or forty hours’ run in the direction they steamed.”
“Yes, but don’t count on their keeping that course,” said Rawlins. “They’re foxy guys and they may have steered south by east just to fool those boys in the boat. As soon as hull down they may have swung to east or west--or even turned on their tracks and headed north. Darned funny they were decent enough not to murder the whole crew. And my idea about the plane is that they’re using her for a scout to warn them of other ships. From a few thousand feet up, the pilot of the plane can spot a ship way below the horizon and the Devonshire can keep clear of ’em. Why, by glory! they could probably spot us and know we’re following them. I’ll say we’ve got some job cut out for us, if we’re going to try to run ’em down. And when it gets dark they can slip away, easy as is. Now I don’t want to butt in all the time, but my idea would be to fight them with their own weapons--play their own game and fool ’em. If we shift our course as if we’d given up or were on the wrong track and send out a few fake radio messages, they’ll think we’ve given up and they’ll beat it for some port. Then, by tipping off the port authorities, they can nab the bunch when they arrive.”
“Hmm,” muttered Mr. Pauling. “A very good plan, Rawlins, except for one or two flaws in it. For example, if we tip off the authorities, what is to prevent those on the Devonshire from hearing the messages and acting accordingly? And if we don’t know the course they’re actually taking, how can we shift ours in such a way as to make them feel sure we have abandoned the chase? Finally, how will we know what port they intend entering? They might sail for Europe or Asia or the South Seas, for all we know.”
“Well, you’ve stumped me on the first question, I admit,” chuckled the diver. “That’s your business Mr. Pauling--have to use some cipher I suppose. But the others are easy. If we send radio messages to some nearby port that we’re coming in--asking to have supplies or stores ready, for instance--those Bolsheviks will bite all right. And as far as knowing what port they’ll head for is concerned, if they think they’re not being chased they’ll go to the port where there’s the least danger and that’s where the ship’s papers are made out for--Trinidad or Demerara.”
“By Jove! I don’t know but what you’re right,” exclaimed Mr. Pauling. “I think I can arrange the cipher messages--in fact, in confidence, I can let you know that a code was all arranged long before we left St. Thomas. Every executive of every British and French colony down here knows it. We had reasons for not giving it to the Dutch in view of the suspicious actions of that Dutch tramp--and I’ll guarantee if the Devonshire puts into any British or French port, our piratical ‘reds’ will find they’ve stepped into a trap that’s set and baited.”
By the time Robinson reappeared on deck, looking a very different being from the haggard, dull-eyed seaman who had been rescued from the Devonshire’s boat, Mr. Pauling had conferred with Commander Disbrow and plans had been made in accordance with Rawlins’ suggestion. Robinson, when told of this, agreed with the diver that doubtless the “reds” intended sailing the Devonshire boldly into some port and then slipping away, one at a time. He also declared that he believed they would steam for either Trinidad or Demerara, as the ship’s papers were made out for those ports. In order to consult with him and secure his opinions, it was of course necessary to acquaint him somewhat with the activities of the fugitives, but he asked no questions and made no effort to learn more of Mr. Pauling’s mission than the latter saw fit to divulge.
“Was the Devonshire ever in Trinidad or Demerara, Mr. Robinson?” inquired Mr. Pauling. “That is, with Captain Masters and the other officers in command?”
“Not as far as I know,” replied the other. “I’ve been on her for three years and this is my first trip out here. She’s always been in the East Indian trade heretofore.”
“Ah, then that makes it still easier for the rascals,” commented Mr. Pauling. “They can readily pass themselves off for the ship’s officers. By the way, can you describe the appearance of any of the men who boarded the ship?”
“Strike me, Sir, but I was too struck ’twixt wind and water to take note of their appearance,” declared the officer. “I do remember one who appeared to be in command, however--a big chappie with a red beard.”