Captain Cain was a good walker. In quick time he covered the distance between Cawsand and Cremyll, crossed by means of the ferry to Devonport, and hastened along Union Street. Here he posted two missives: one in Chamfer's handwriting, addressed to the local bank (that would bear the Plymouth postmark, which was no small advantage); the other to his own bankers, instructing them that on the receipt of securities to the extent of twenty thousand pounds they were to sell out and transfer the proceeds to the firm of Señor Paquita, Calle Rancagua, Copuapo, Chile.
"Guess that fool Pengelly would look a bit sick if he knew," soliloquised Captain Cain, as he turned to retrace his steps. "It's all in the game. If I don't look after Number One, who else will?"
CHAPTER V
THE RENDEZVOUS
"SAIL on the starboard bow, sir!"
Captain Cain, binoculars slung round his neck, clambered up the almost vertical teak ladder to the temporary bridge.
It was in the forenoon watch—seven bells, to be exact—of the day following the pirate captain's visit to Devonport. The Alerte, ploughing along at an easy five knots, was abeam and nearly five miles to the south'ard of Bolt Tail. All that iron-bound coast betwixt Bolt Head and Bolt Tail stood out clearly in the sunlight. To the west'ard the lower lying ground bordering Bigbury Bay was invisible, while to the east'ard the Start was fading into the grey mists that sweep down when the cold Dartmoor air mingles with the warm atmosphere of the English Channel.
The mist was certainly spreading. Unless Captain Cain was very much mistaken, soon the granite cliffs of Devon would be blotted out by the watery vapour.
"I'll risk it," he decided.