Jack nodded his head.
“She was a fine boat, eight thousand tons, carried three hundred passengers, and was heavily insured at Lloyd’s. The insurance is not paid yet; the underwriters want a few more particulars before they hand over £200,000—you see, it is a fairly stiff sum! She lies five miles off the coast, well away from the steamer track, and was out of her course. The captain talks of fog, and currents—and everyone knows the Red Sea is the very devil! I believe the rocks grow! The office people here, I happen to know, are looking for a trustworthy chap to carry on for a few weeks, whilst things are straightened out a bit; a man to keep off the Arab cut-throats, and have an eye to everything till she is formally taken over: you see, there is a lot of stores and liquor on board. They want a steady level-headed gentleman, who can turn his hand to most things, from a boat to a windlass; he is not picked up easily on this coast! Now, suppose you lend a hand, and go in for the berth; they will send you down in the steam-launch with a couple of Lascars, and pay you handsomely. I believe there is money in it besides—perhaps a big haul.”
“And that’s just what I am in search of, these two years, so I’m your man,” announced Jack with emphasis.
“Mind you, it is not a kid-glove job; you run a good many risks, both from the Arabs, and others.”
“I don’t mind that; nothing venture, nothing have. Can you give me a hint of the whereabouts of the coin?”
“No—not exactly; it would be libellous. However, unless you are a regular thickhead, you will soon see how the land lies, and if you do find out anything strange, communicate with Suakim at once.”
“And if I find nothing but stale stores, and rats?”
“You must risk that, and take your chance; it is just a bit of a gamble, but mind you, I’ve given you what you are hunting for all over the place, and that is, a straight tip.”
Three days later found Jack Truman en route to the Mangalore; he had received information and orders from headquarters, was to await full instructions from London, and to keep watch over the wreck—for possibly four weeks, or longer. The new commander was despatched to his berth in a little steam-launch, accompanied by two Lascars, and had provided himself with plenty of tobacco, a Martini rifle, revolver, screwdriver, pincers, matches, and a change of clothes. After some hours’ steady steaming, the Mangalore came into sight. She lay over at an angle of thirty degrees, with her decks awash, and sleepy seas breaking over them.
Her position was undoubtedly precarious, and she was anything but an inviting abode—in short, she was a water-logged wreck. Far away from the Mangalore lay the African coast, with a fringe of jagged hills behind which the crimson sun was setting; prominent among the hills, was one almost like a tower, but no tower—or even hut—was on that desolate shore.