The Pirate Submarine

by Percy F. Westerman

It was hard for the Sub to realise all that had occurred during the comparatively brief interval from the time the luckless Ibex left Fowey harbour. He was in a rather unenviable position. Captain Cain had undoubtedly saved his life and that of his companion. That, in Broadmayne's opinion, outweighed the pirate's cavalier treatment of his involuntary guests. In spite of his threats, Cain had respected their scruples and had not compelled them to perform any act amounting to piracy. And, with reference to the threatened flogging, the Sub was none too sure that the pirate captain would have proceeded to extremes.

And now Broadmayne had been officially called upon to give evidence against Captain Cain and his rascally crew. Ought he, he wondered, to reveal everything, even the secret of Cain's former association with the Senior Service as a commissioned officer?

Cain was a pirate, a freebooter, an absconding swindler; but there was this in his favour—he had never molested a British ship, and he had not been guilty of murder, for even in the engagement with the Surcouf he had given directions controlling the fire, so that although the Frenchman had been badly mauled, none of her crew had been slain, the casualties, as subsequently given out, amounting to five men wounded.

It was a perplexing problem for Sub-Lieutenant Broadmayne. More than likely, from his intimate knowledge of the Alerte, he would be appointed to some vessel detailed to accomplish either her capture or her destruction. He did not hanker after the job; but he decided, if it were to be his mission, he would do his utmost to carry it to a successful conclusion. With Broadmayne, Duty, spelt with a capital D, was the one object of his life as far as the Service was concerned.

Then his thoughts turned to Pengelly. It did not take long to dismiss him. Pengelly, he decided, was a mealy-mouthed, double-faced blighter, hand in glove with Cain, speaking fair to his face and yet never scrupling to cheat him out of his ill-gotten gains behind his back. No, he had not the faintest sympathy for Paul Pengelly.

There was that other character, Silas Something. Broadmayne did not remember his surname, but he knew the number and name of his lugger. So did Vyse, who had overheard the plotting conversation between Silas and Pengelly. Very well, then; Rollo Vyse could tackle that part of the business. It would be something for him to do. Broadmayne had not the detective instinct; Vyse had.

Giving his name to a messenger, Broadmayne was taken with little delay into the Commander-in-Chief's private office. Here, in addition to the admiral, his secretary and flag-lieutenant, were several lieutenant-commanders, including Raxworthy, of the destroyer Windrush. A couple of civilian shorthand writers completed the gathering.

"Now, Mr. Broadmayne," said the admiral, after a few preliminaries, "we want your story. Take your time and don't omit details. They may seem unimportant, but in the long-run they may be of great service. Now, fire away."

The Sub did so, keeping nothing back, with the exception of his knowledge of Captain Cain's previous history. By the time he had finished, both the shorthand writers, although they worked in relays, were visibly fatigued; but the naval officers showed no signs other than those of intense interest.

Broadmayne was then subjected to a lengthy string of questions. Charts were produced and studied, plans of condemned submarines, and lists of when and where they were sold for breaking-up purposes were consulted. Notwithstanding the fact that the admiral usually dined at seven-thirty, it was nearly nine o'clock before the "levee" broke up, Broadmayne being "requested"—otherwise ordered—to report at the Commander-in-Chief's office at nine-thirty the following morning.