Possibly this accident may have had the effect of reminding our lady skipper of something that had all but slipped her memory. Be that as it may, the loss of our propeller blades had no sooner been discovered than she issued certain orders, in response to which several heavy cases were swayed up on deck and opened, with the result that when the sun went down that night the Stella Maris was an armed ship, sporting two main-deck batteries of beautiful four-inch quick-firing guns of the most up-to-date pattern, six of a side, with two one-pound Hotchkisses on her forecastle, and four Maxims on her poop.
Chapter Six.
Kennedy’s Banshee.
It was shortly after noon, on our fifth day out from Moulmein, and we were just within the Malacca Strait, when the wind began to fail us; and by two bells in the first dog-watch it had fallen stark calm, and the yacht’s head was slowly boxing the compass. We were close enough in with the land to see from the deck the ridge of the mountain range that forms the backbone, as it were, of the Malay Peninsula, though not the coast line itself; but there were quite a number of islands in sight, some of which were of respectable size, while there were others that could not have had an area of more than a few acres—some of them indeed being scarcely more than rocks. Most of them, however, seemed inhabited, for even on some of the smallest we were able, with the help of our telescopes, to distinguish one or more ramshackle huts, some perched on the top of long, stilt-like poles; also there were at least a hundred small fishing craft in sight, as well as a few proas, probably coasting craft, becalmed like ourselves.
“Now,” said Mrs Vansittart, addressing herself to Kennedy and me as we sat upon the poop rail, longing for the sun to go down and leave us the comparative coolness of the night, “here is just where we miss our propeller. If it had not been for that accident I guess we could have started the engine; and we should at least have had the draught caused by the ship’s passage through the water to cool us; whereas we shall have to wait where we are and just simmer until a breeze springs up again. And I guess I see no sign of one as yet, while the glass stands very high. Mr Leigh, do you happen to know whether there is such a thing as a dry dock at Singapore?”
“I have never been to Singapore,” I replied, “so I cannot say for certain; but I seem to recollect having heard such a thing mentioned. Does not the Directory say anything about it?”
“There now! I declare to goodness that I never thought to look,” exclaimed the lady. “But,” she continued, “I’ll go and do so now; and if there happens to be a dock there big enough to take in this vessel, I guess I will have the Stella Maris docked and cleaned and another propeller fixed. We’ve got a spare one down below; and I guess Mackenzie is man enough to fit it, once we get into harbour, even if there is no dock—though I hope there will be one. I’ll turn up the Directory now, and see what it says;” and therewith she descended to the chart-room, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan as she went.
As soon as Mrs Vansittart was fairly out of earshot, Kennedy turned to me and said: