Throughout the rest of the day the work of preparation proceeded. Amongst other things the wireless aerial was sent aloft. The installation was the original set belonging to R 81, but for good reasons Trevorrick cut out the transmission gear. Communication by wireless was apt to be a two-edged sword. By its use the position of the pirate ship Alerte might be located to within a mile. Receiving was a different matter. It would enable the Alerte to gain valuable information regarding the presence of shipping in her vicinity.
Jasper Chamfer was soon carried off to the ship. Trevorrick's invention of his cupidity and treachery was only too successful. At the thought that the enterprise which was to make them rich was in jeopardy through the action of the double-dealing Admiralty official, the crew were ready to go to any length to muzzle him most effectually.
At eight o'clock on a rising tide, and with the seven-day-old moon well down in the west, the Alerte slipped her moorings.
CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST HAUL
IN spite of her premature departure, the Alerte was well found for her work. Everything that Trevorrick and Pengelly could provide had been placed on board, or had been arranged for at the earliest possible opportunity. Yet Trevorrick smiled grimly when he reflected that here was a modern pirate vessel proceeding to sea absolutely unarmed with the exception of a service revolver and fifty rounds of ammunition.
Pengelly, whose acquaintance with Falmouth Harbour and the river Fal was extensive, conned the ship from the bows, transmitting his orders to the quartermaster at the above-water steering apparatus. Trevorrick, in peaked cap, bridge coat and rubber boots, tramped up and down the temporary structure amidships. He was feeling rather anxious, not on account of his recently adopted profession, but as to whether the Alerte would clear St. Anthony Point without either grounding or being challenged by the Falmouth Customs officials. He was one of those devil-may-care fellows who never hesitate to take risks and face the consequences provided they have had a run for their money. Ignominious capture at this early stage of the proceedings would be the limit of bitter disappointment.
Slowly the Alerte smelt her way down the intricate channel of Polkyll Creek. Once her rounded bilge scraped the mud, but without losing way she dragged over the slippery obstruction. Ahead lay the dark, tree-clad hills of the right bank of the Fal.
"Hard-a-starboard!" shouted Pengelly, supplementing these instructions by ordering the port engine to "go astern."