"If you'll come with me, sir, I'll show them to you," answered Calamity politely, and led the way towards his cabin.
Suddenly he stopped near the after-hatch, from which a couple of the covers had previously been removed.
"Like to have a squint at the cargo?" he asked. "Guess it'll interest you."
The fussy little man looked surprised at the question, but he stepped up to the hatch, and, leaning over the combing, peered into the obscure depths below. While he was still in this convenient attitude an impelling force caught him in the small of the back, and he shot downwards into the hold, alighting head foremost on a heap of sand-ballast. Then, before he had recovered sufficiently to raise a shout, the hatch-covers were promptly clapped on again and he was left there in the dark to meditate on the ups and downs of a port official's life.
Having satisfactorily disposed of this inquisitive person, Calamity returned to the bridge and the Hawk began to steam slowly past the fort into the harbour. Two or three sentinels on the hill watched her progress, but they having seen her boarded by one of their officials doubtless concluded that all was well. Meanwhile Mr. Dykes had managed to convince the dusky cox'n in the waiting boat alongside that his master would remain on board, whereupon the man saluted, cast off the painter, and steered his boat shorewards.
When the Hawk had rounded the bend which hid the upper portion of the harbour from view, Mr. Dykes gave vent to a sudden exclamation of astonishment.
"Durned if that ain't our old bug-trap?"
Looking in the direction indicated by the mate, Calamity saw the pirate gunboat beached just beyond the jetty and lying on her side, evidently for the purpose of being repaired. His assumption, then, had been correct: this island was a secret coaling station and place of refuge for the very few German vessels which were still at large. However, he made no comment aloud, and in a few more minutes the anchor was let go and the Hawk swung peacefully at her moorings.
The situation in which Calamity had voluntarily placed himself by entering this harbour was, as he fully realised, fraught with infinite peril. He knew that if he now attempted to escape he risked being sunk by the guns on the fort, yet he could not remain where he was much longer without being subjected to investigations which would result in capture, if not worse. Under the circumstances, therefore, there was only one thing to do, and that was to attack the fort and capture it. This plan, viewed impartially, seemed hopelessly impossible, especially if, as appeared highly probable, the fort were strongly garrisoned. Still, Calamity did not hesitate between this and the only alternative—surrender.
He sent for the two mates to whom, in a few curt sentences, he outlined his plan of action. It was simple in the extreme, and, by reason of its amazing boldness, might even be successful. The Germans, he argued, though regarding the vessel with suspicion, would hardly anticipate the landing of an armed party, which was what he contemplated. The brief twilight would soon descend, and, the Hawk being safely bottled up in the harbour, the enemy would probably not worry much about her till the morning; therefore the attack was to be carried out as soon as darkness fell.