Also the amount of brain-work required to equip and provision the ship was not small. Nothing superfluous was to be taken—only the absolute essentials. In the old days, "when there was a war on", procuring stores for M.L.'s was a comparatively simple matter. The officer in charge signed a "demand note" for a quantity in excess of what he actually required, taking this step to safeguard himself against the parsimony of an official known as a Naval Stores Officer, who had a nasty habit of cutting down the demands. In the case of the Titania's equipment this would have been a financial disaster. Each man knew in effect it was his own money that he was laying out and acted accordingly.
Within eight days of the purchase the Titania was docked, cleaned, and "compoed", undocked and berthed alongside a wharf. This had been done by the yacht-yard hands, but Harborough and his "merry buccaneers", as he generally referred to them, were toiling like galley-slaves.
The grey, rust-stained sides had been scraped and had been given two out of a final three coats of white paint, and white paint at the present time costs money. But it was money well laid out. The health and comfort of the ship's company, as the yacht sweltered in the Tropics, depended largely upon the almost non-absorbing properties of white paint to the terrific glare of the sun.
The grimy decks were scraped and then scrubbed with wet sand; the dull varnish on the teak-work was removed and the bare wood given three coats of copal. The masts were rubbed down and painted a pale-buff colour, and the whole of the standing and running rigging renewed. Fortunately, the sails were in excellent condition.
"What arms are we taking?" asked Villiers.
"Nothing very formidable," replied Harborough, who, at his own request, was no longer addressed as Sir Hugh by his fellow adventurers. "I don't anticipate any scrapping. Bloodthirsty cannibals are back numbers in the part of the Pacific we are making for, and I don't suppose that our rival treasure-hunters will go to the extent of armed aggression."
"Still, we ought to be prepared for emergencies," rejoined Villiers. "There's virtue in the barrel of a Maxim gun."
Harborough shook his head.
"Not always," he replied. "When there's a hot-headed fellow fingering the firing-button, for instance. No, no; we'll dispense with a Maxim or a Lewis. A couple of rifles will be useful, perhaps, and half a dozen automatic pistols. I'll take a dozen 12-bore shot guns. It's remarkable what a deterrent a charge of small shot can be. Verey Lights and rockets we'll take. You might see to the ship's armoury. Most of the guns, the rifles, and two automatic pistols are already at Thalassa Towers. Bring them down next time you have room in the car. Oh, by the by, you might read this."
He handed Villiers a long blue envelope. Within was a communication from the underwriters of s.s. Fusi Yama agreeing to grant Sir Hugh Harborough the sole rights of salvage subject to a 5-per-cent royalty.