“Sink her? No, bless my soul, no. What would you sink her for? Tell him to use gentle persuasion, and not give up the ore. An ordinary crew cannot fill the hold with ore which a hundred and fifty men refuse to allow them to touch. You don’t need to fight. If Frowning-shield will just line up his hundred and fifty men along that reef, one glance at their interesting faces will convince any ship’s captain that he’d be safer out at sea.
“I think the Wychwood will answer our purposes very well. She is large and fast. Try to find out, if you can, exactly what Schwartzbrod promised Frowningshield and his men, and let me know when you return. Now, captain, I think you understand pretty well what your new duties are, so get off for the south just as quickly as you can. Meanwhile we must be moving on toward the Grand Hotel. I’m rather anxious to meet that dinner, and on the way we will send a telegram to Mrs. Simmons and the family. After that we three roisterers will make a night of it, for I must go up to London to-morrow.”
Mackeller worked industriously at his smelting, dumping the gold down into the abandoned mine after his assistants had left him for the night. He was anxious to hear what had become of the Rajah, and what had happened to Captain Wilkie threatened with imprisonment, but no letter came from Lord Stranleigh, which was not to be wondered at, for all Stranleigh’s friends knew his dislike of writing.
The third morning after Stranleigh’s departure Mackeller received a long telegram which had evidently been handed in at London the night before. At first Mackeller thought it was in cipher, but a close study of the message persuaded him that no code was necessary for its disentanglement. It ran as follows:
“Take half a pound of butter, one pound of flour, half a pound of moist sugar, two eggs, one teaspoonful of essence of lemon, one fourth glass of brandy or sherry. Rub the butter, flour, and sugar well together, mix in the eggs after beating them, add the essence of lemon and the brandy. Drop the cakes upon a frying pan, and bake for half an hour in a quick oven.”
Mackeller muttered some strenuous remarks to himself as at last he gathered in the purport of this communication. He detained the telegraph boy long enough to write a line which he sent to Lord Stranleigh’s residence at a cost of sixpence.
“What have you done about the Rajah—Mackeller.”
Late in the afternoon the telegraph boy returned, and bestowed upon the impatient and now irascible Mackeller the following instructions:
“For two persons alone at the mouth of a pit take one plump fowl, add white pepper and salt to suit the taste, one half spoonful of grated nutmeg, one half spoonful of pounded mace, a few slices of ham, three hard-boiled eggs, sliced thin, half a pint of water, and some puff paste crust to cover. Stew for half an hour, and when done strain off the liquor for gravy. Put a layer of fowl at the bottom of a pie dish, then a layer of ham, then the slices of hard-boiled egg, with the mace, nutmeg, pepper and salt between the layers. Put in half a pint of water, cover with puff paste, and bake for an hour and a half.”