[Illustration: cover art]

THE STOLEN CRUISER

[Illustration: "CRASH! A SHELL STRIKING THE BASE OF THE FUNNEL REDUCING IT TO ATOMS." Frontispiece]

THE STOLEN
CRUISER

BY

PERCY F. WESTERMAN

AUTHOR OF
"THE SEA MONARCH," "THE FLYING SUBMARINE" ETC.

CONTENTS

THE STOLEN CRUISER

CHAPTER I

THE "SCRAPPED" CRUISER

It was half-past eight on a May morning. The sun was obscured in a dense haze that the light south-westerly breeze failed to disperse.

Spithead lay enshrouded in the sea-fog, while from the deck of H.M. torpedo-boat destroyer Frome neither the low-lying land upon which Portsmouth is built nor the undulating downs of the Isle of Wight were visible.

"Boyne Buoy on the starboard bow, sir," reported the look-out.

"Thanks be!" ejaculated Lieutenant-Commander Douglas Drake to his companion, Sub-Lieutenant Paul Fielding. "I shan't be sorry to turn in."

The Frome had been out for night-firing off the Medmery Bank, but ill-luck in the guise of a fog accompanied her. For hours she cruised up and down, waiting for the bank of impenetrable haze to lift, while her consort, the Calder, was standing by ready to take the canvas target in tow.

It was a nerve-racking job, forging slowly ahead in the fog. In a heavy sea, provided the weather be sufficiently clear to enable the officer of the watch to pick up the various lights, the discomfort, even when battened down, is nothing compared with the blindworm tactics of keeping steerage way in a shut-in sky of dark grey clammy vapour.

"By George! It is clearing," exclaimed Fielding. "Surely that is Southsea Castle ahead."

"You're right. I only hope the admiral won't order us out to-morrow night."

"By the mark ten!" shouted the leadsman in the monotonous drawl that seamen affect when engaged in sounding.

"Fairly in the channel, thank goodness. How's that for navigation, Mr. Cardyke?" asked the lieutenant, turning to a midshipman who stood beside him on the diminutive bridge.

"Ripping, sir," replied the lad. "I suppose we'll be able to play on Friday?"

"I hope so," rejoined Drake. "We must bear a hand in licking the Sixth Division if it's humanly possible."

Lieutenant Douglas Drake was well under thirty years of age. Although "frightfully keen" on his duties, and a stickler for naval etiquette, he was at times almost boyish in manner. His chief fault—if fault it might be termed—was excessive self-confidence. That quality was undoubtedly an asset in the old lay-alongside-and-board-'em days; but in modern naval tactics, based upon hard and fast scientific lines, a blind reliance upon one's personal qualifications is apt to lead a man into trouble. There are occasions, of course, when self-confidence has its advantages. But woe-betide the unfortunate individual who, through blind "cocksureness," jeopardised his command and failed to achieve his object.

Drake had influence behind him, and with influence behind him a hare-brained young officer might do certain things with impunity that would soon bring him under the ban of official displeasure had he not someone of importance to back him. On the other hand, influence tends to make a man unpopular with his brother officers. Drake realised this, and acted accordingly; but although he succeeded to a certain extent in winning the regard of his comrades, he was often the victim of a harmless practical joke whenever the opportunity arose.

Sub-Lieutenant Paul Fielding was, on the other hand, a cautious man. He had need to be, since he had nothing in the shape of influence at his back. He was a strict disciplinarian, somewhat inclined to be off-handish at times, yet a true comrade and a loyal supporter of his superior officer. Fired by Drake's enthusiasm he began to acquire the belief that when an opportunity did occur the little Frome would acquit herself in a style worthy of the best traditions of the Service—and the time was at hand when his capacity was to be tried to the uttermost.

Arnold Cardyke, the midshipman "lent" to the destroyer, was a dark-featured, athletic-looking youth of sixteen. He was slightly above middle height, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, and was as hard as the proverbial nail. He was the son of an admiral, who himself was one of a long line of naval officers—for Cardykes were to be found in the Royal Navy in a continuous, and often multifold, line from the reign of King William III.

The young midshipman was doubly anxious for the Frome to be detained in harbour in order to effect the long outstanding periodical refit. One reason was that he wanted to go on leave to meet his brother, who was "paying off" after a two years' commission on the Pacific Station; the other was that he was exceedingly keen on cricket, and, with the reputation of being one of the best bats in the First Dartmouth Team, he was regarded as a pillar of strength in the forthcoming match between the officers of the Fifth and Sixth Torpedo-boat Destroyer Flotillas.

Of course, had there been any special duty to perform on board the Frome Cardyke would have cheerfully foregone both of the anticipated pleasures but, with the exception of the night-firing practice—which could be performed any time during the forthcoming six weeks—there was nothing likely to occur.

Arnold Cardyke was very proud of the honour of being "lent" to the Frome, which was one of the very latest "New River" class. She was 120 ft. over all, with a turtle-back deck fore and aft, a strikingly fine entry, and a pointed, cutaway stern. Funnels she had none, being propelled by the most up-to-date Diesel motors. At the after end of the fore turtle-deck was the gun platform, mounting two eleven-pounder automatic weapons, so arranged that they could command an arc of 210 degs. of the horizon, and could be trained to fire skywards up to within 10 degs. of a vertical line.

Underneath this platform, with the observation holes barely six inches above the back of the curved deck, was the conning-tower. Above was the "navigating bridge," which could be removed if going into action. Here was the slight shelter, called by courtesy the chart-room, and two powerful searchlights.

Immediately abaft the bridge was a light telescopic mast for signalling purposes. Wireless "aerials"—always the bugbear of naval officers while overhead gear was in vogue—had been consigned to the limbo of the past, and receivers in the wireless room "picked up" the messages with unerring fidelity.

Abreast the mast were two seven-pounder automatic guns, protected from Maxim fire by light steel shields forming a complete turret. Abaft the mast, and twenty feet from the guns, were the two 21 in. torpedo tubes, taking an improved Whitehead with an effective range of five miles. From this point was a clear run of deck-space—save for the ventilating cowls and hatchways, that could be respectively unshipped or battened down should occasion arise—to the aft torpedo-tubes.

On the poop turtle-back was the supplementary conning-tower, and another eleven-pounder gun.

"All out" the Frome could do forty-three knots. With her, speed was the primary consideration. To minimise windage every object that it was possible to construct in that fashion was wedge-shaped—even the shafting of the ventilators, while with her after turtle-back deck the destroyer could go astern at twenty-one knots without fear of being swept by the waves. She carried a complement of ninety men, of whom only fifteen were "engine-room ratings."

Gradually the fog lifted, till the outlines of Southsea Beach could be followed almost as far as the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour; and now, with her speed increased to a modest ten knots, the destroyer slipped up the fairway against the surging ebb tide.

Just as the Frome was within a quarter of a mile from the Round Tower, where the entrance of Portsmouth Harbour is barely 250 yds. wide, a burst of sunshine dispersed the last vestige of the fog within the sheltered waters, though at Spithead the haze was as thick as ever.

[Illustration: RIGHT AHEAD CAME A HUGE BATTLE CRUISER.]

"That's awkward, sir," remarked Fielding. Lieutenant Drake did not reply, but motioning the quartermaster to put the helm over to port, and telegraphing to the engine-room for fifteen knots, nodded significantly to his subordinate.

It was indeed awkward. Flying from the yard-arm of the naval station of Fort Blockhouse was the signal burgee letter S—a triangular blue and yellow flag—denoting that submarines were either entering or leaving Haslar Lake. From the Semaphore Tower, and from the foremast heads of all the ships in harbour, the Pilot Jack was flying, showing that one of H.M. ships was under way, and a glance astern showed that the second-class cruiser Vindictive was entering.

Right ahead came a huge battle-cruiser, with a Government tug lashed on either side, and a gaudily painted tug panting ahead with an enormous hawser, and a sister tender puffing decorously astern of the leviathan.

"That's a bungled bit of work," commented Drake. "She can't go back with this tide under her; and the Vindictive following us up, too. Pass the word for a warning signal to be sent to the cruiser, Mr. Cardyke. These fellows must be as mad as March hares."

The increased speed just saved the Frome from being in a very tight corner, for, hugging the eastern side of the entrance, she gained the broad expanse of the harbour just as the towed vessel came abeam.

Still Drake had to keep his full attention on his course; but the sub. and midshipman could devote themselves to the melancholy spectacle—for the Impregnable was on her way to the marine knacker's yard. Her days as an effective unit were judged to be over, and, sold out of the Service, she was on her way to a Dutch port to be broken up.

The Impregnable was one of the earlier "Dreadnought cruisers," and in her time held the palm for speed. She was of eighteen thousand tons displacement, and had attained a speed of twenty-six knots. Her armament consisted of eight 12 in. guns—one pair for'ard, another pair aft, and the others en échelon amidships—as well as a secondary battery of twenty-five 4 in. quick-firers. She had two tripod masts and three huge funnels.

Very different the vessel looked from when, a few months previously, she had taken her place in the fleet at Spithead as an effective unit of the British Navy. Her topmasts were "housed," her boats and secondary armament removed, and her regulation coat of grey paint was streaked with rust and dirt. In her barbettes the 12 in. guns still grinned menacingly, but their teeth were drawn, their breech-blocks having been removed previous to sale.

"Seems like parting with an old friend," remarked the sub to Cardyke, for Fielding had served a commission on board of her. "To my mind, it's a mistake scrapping the older vessels so promptly. It's not my business to say so, of course; but still, that's my opinion."

"She'd do her little bit even yet," observed Cardyke. "She never has fired a shot in anger yet, has she?"

"No," replied the sub. "And she never will. We've seen the last of the old Impregnable, Cardyke."

But Sub-Lieutenant Paul Fielding was, for once, at least, hopelessly out of his bearings.

CHAPTER II

THE INTERRUPTED MATCH

The Frome came alongside the Fountain Lake Jetty, and her commander repaired to the commander-in-chief's office to make his report as to why the night gunnery exercises had not been carried out. To the relief of everyone on board the destroyer it was decided that the night-firing was to be postponed until after the little craft's refit, and in the interval the Frome was to lie alongside the jetty until her consort, the Blackadder, came out of No. 3 Dock.

"That's good!" ejaculated Fielding, as the officers went to dinner in the diminutive, cosy wardroom. "We'll have time to put in a few hours' practice at the nets. Have you seen the list of our team yet, Cardyke?"

"Thompson's sending out the names tomorrow. I know that we are in the team; Simpson gave me the cue," replied the midshipman. "The practice-nets will be available at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. I suppose we may go, sir?"

"Of course," assented Drake, good-naturedly. "The gunner will be in charge up to eight bells."

The four officers—for the engineer-lieutenant formed one of the party—fell to discussing everyday topics. "Shop" was rigidly tabooed in the Frome's wardroom unless absolutely necessary for Service reasons.

The following day, Thursday, passed almost without incident. Fielding and Cardyke put in a good morning's work at the practice-nets in the United Services ground; while Drake went ashore in the afternoon for a motor-drive.

Friday dawned bright and clear, with every prospect of a blazing hot day. Shortly after breakfast a newsboy brought off the daily papers to the ship, and for the next half-hour the officers "stood easy."

"By Jove! They think that something's happened to the old Impregnable," exclaimed Paul Fielding. "She ought to have turned up at the mouth of the Scheldt yesterday morning, and nothing has been seen or heard of her."

"Delayed by fog possibly," remarked the lieutenant-commander. "Still, it's no affair of the Admiralty's since the ship is sold."

"The paper hints at something mysterious."

"Naturally. There's been a dearth of news for the last month or more, and this is a good opportunity of arousing public interest. She'll turn up all right, with two tugs looking after her. Well, what's this?"

Drake turned to receive a message from a signalman.

"I say, you fellows," he exclaimed. "The Frome will be well represented in the Fifth Division Team. Thompson's sent a signal from the depot-ship asking me to play. They must be fearfully hard up for players, because I am awfully out of practice."

"Of course you'll play?" asked Fielding, eagerly, for Drake had a reputation as a hard slogger at no very distant date.

"I'll do my best, rest assured," replied Drake, modestly, as he deliberately folded his newspaper, and placed it in the rack. "But business first and pleasure afterwards—it's time for divisions."

The morning passed only too quickly, for there was much to be done in the way of routine, and at 2 p.m. Drake, Fielding, and Cardyke, all in mufti, went ashore. A taxi quickly bore them to the officers' Recreation Ground, where most of the rival teams had already gathered.

Matches between the officers of the various ships and torpedo destroyer divisions were a favourite amusement in the Portsmouth command, the game usually being followed by an informal dinner, the losing side having to pay all expenses.

Confident in the batting capabilities of the Fifth Division team, Drake expressed his willingness to eat his hat should they fail to win.

"Eating his hat" was the lieutenant's favourite figure of speech; but, somewhat to his surprise, Lieutenant Player, the skipper of the Sixth Division team, promptly made a note of his rival's promise in his pocketbook, amid the laughter of his companions.

Possibly this action unsettled Drake, for, instead of coming up to his average, he was clean bowled before the end of the first over. The wickets fell in quick succession, and in spite of the determined stand of young Cardyke, the Fifth closed with a miserable forty-three. As for the Sixth, they soon piled on runs till the scoring-board stood at 108.

"Now then, Drake," exclaimed Player, boisterously. "Where's your hat?"

Drake began to glare at his tormentor; then, realising the absurdity of "getting his rag out": "See what I'll do to-night," he replied. "A Drake always keeps his word."

Just at that moment a marine orderly, mounted on a bicycle, rode at a high speed over the turf, threw himself out of the saddle abreast of the pavilion, and, with a salute, handed Drake an envelope.

Without a word the lieutenant-commander opened the buff covering, read the contents, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

At length Drake dismissed the messenger, thrust the missive into his pocket, and strolled casually out of the pavilion. The news was important, but it was almost as important that none of his companions save his subordinates should know its import.

Outside the pavilion Drake beckoned to Fielding, and the two strolled a few yards away from the others.

"Looks like business, sir," commented Fielding, as he read the momentous news. "I thought there was something fishy when the papers hinted at it this morning."

"It's a rattling good chance, Fielding, my boy—a rattling good chance. If we don't score I'll eat my——"

But recollecting that he had already promised to masticate more than he wished for, Drake checked himself in time.

"Mr. Cardyke," he exclaimed, as the midshipman passed on his way to the pavilion. "Not a word to the others, mind. A message has just come from the commander-in-chief ordering us to put to sea with the utmost promptitude on particular service."

"Anything startling, sir?"

"Only that news has been received that the Impregnable has been seized on the high seas. How, when, or where we have to find out. Our instructions are to investigate, and take action if necessary."

"I hope, sir, there will be plenty of 'if necessary' about it."

"So do I," agreed Drake, grimly. "We've the chance of a lifetime—and I mean to make the most of it."

CHAPTER III

THE DESTROYER'S QUEST

Within a quarter of an hour of the termination of the match Fielding and Cardyke were on board the destroyer, Drake having gone post-haste to the commander-in-chief to receive definite instructions as to the course of action.

Already the water police were busily engaged in hunting up the absentees of the crew. Those who were gone away from the port on leave could not conveniently be recalled, and other men were drafted in to fill up the complement. Stores were being hastily dumped on board, the usual "red tape" formalities having perforce to be dispensed with. Fresh water was being supplied to the tanks by one set of hoses, while another pipe was in use filling up the double bottom petrol tanks with liquid fuel. Fortunately, owing to the fact that the night-firing had not taken place, the magazines were filled with quick-firing ammunition, and the delay occasioned by having to "ship powder" at one of the buoys in harbour was obviated. It was primarily on this account that the Frome was selected for the purpose of investigating the mystery enshrouding the Impregnable.

"I wonder if there will be a scrap?" asked the mid. "It's about time we had something exciting. What do you suppose is the matter?"

"Goodness only knows. You heard what Drake said," replied Fielding, as he struggled into his uniform with more haste than he usually displayed, for the sub. had the reputation of being a careful, deliberate man in the matter of dress, and gold lace won't stand rough usage.

"He said 'seized on the high seas,'" continued Cardyke. "By whom?"

"County Court officials, probably. Don't take it for granted that there's anything serious, Cardyke. We may be sent on a fool's errand. Ah! Here's Drake coming aboard!"

"A rummy affair, by George!" exclaimed the lieutenant-commander as he entered the wardroom, and threw a bundle of papers on the table. "The news came from the ss. Wontwash, an American tramp that put into Dover this morning. Her master reports that he was somewhere between the Owers and the Royal Sovereign lightships, the weather being thick. A temporary lifting showed him the Impregnable lying a quarter of a mile or so on his port bow, with a large cargo vessel, name and nationality unknown, lashed alongside with a considerable list to port. Two hundred yards astern of the Impregnable was a tug with red and yellow bands on her funnel—that's one of the Dutchmen, you'll remember. The tug was sinking by the head, apparently deserted. There was no mention of the second tug.

"Captain Emory, the master of the Wontwash, thinking that a collision had occurred, hailed to know whether he could be of any assistance, but to his surprise he was peremptorily ordered, in broken English, to sheer off.

"He complied slowly, he says, and before the fog shut out the Impregnable and the vessel alongside her he saw what he believed to be a number of small quick-firers being hoisted out of the latter into the cruiser, whose decks were swarming with men.

"Being without wireless Emory could not communicate with the shore until he came within signalling distance of the Royal Sovereign light. The lightship forwarded the report by wireless, and, allowing for errors in transmission, the story seems remarkably mysterious.

"The Admiralty is in a bit of a hole. Nominally the Impregnable, sold to a Dutch private firm, is beyond their control. The Dutch Government has been communicated with, and they are sending a destroyer to make inquiries. But since, by virtue of the conditions of sale, the cruiser is to be broken up, and not to be used as a vessel, we still hold a certain amount of authority over her, and my orders are to see that the terms of sale are complied with. Now, gentlemen, you know as much as I do about the business. We must find the Impregnable, take possession of her—by force, if necessary—and bring her back to port pending Admiralty investigation. All ready, Mr. Spanner?" he added, addressing the engineer-lieutenant.

"All ready, sir," repeated Spanner. "The whole of the petrol-tanks are filled."

The officers went on deck. Men were busily engaged in easing off the steel hawsers by which the destroyer was secured to the jetty. The signal for "permission to part company" was fluttering from her mast. head. Aft the awnings had been unrigged, and were being handed down for stowage below.

Presently a hoist of signal flags was run up to the yard-arm of the semaphore tower.

"Permission, sir," reported the signalman of the destroyer, laconically.

The engine-room telegraph bell clanged, the water churned under the destroyer's stern as her propellers began to revolve. The last "spring" that held her to the shore was cast off, and the Frome started on her mission of investigation.

Three hours later she was off Beachy Head, but, although keeping in touch with Portsmouth Dockyard by means of wireless, and communicating with every vessel that passed up and down that busy highway—the English Channel—the Impregnable seemed to have vanished, leaving no trace behind her.

"Wreckage, sir," reported the look-out.

Heading towards the spot, and ordering the propellers to be stopped, Drake got his glasses to bear upon the spot. There were a number of oars, some gratings, a large hatch, and a yellow-painted lifebuoy, bearing the name "Hekla, Rotterdam."

"That's the name of one of the tugs, sir," said Fielding. "So the master of the Wontwash has not been telling a mere fairy tale."

"That's so," assented the lieutenant-commander. "I suppose we ought to secure that lifebuoy as evidence. Stand by with a boathook there."

Slowly the Frome forged ahead, but with little way on she was scarcely under control. The lifebuoy was passed ten yards to leeward.

"Be careful of the propellers, sir," cautioned Fielding. "There's a lot of wreckage about. Shall we pipe away the collapsible?"

Drake assented, but as Cardyke went aft to take charge of the Berthon one of the starboard propellers became entangled in a length of floating grass-rope. In a second the fibre was wound round the tail shafting as hard as a steel band.

"Hang it!" muttered Drake. "That's done it. I wish to goodness I'd sent away the boat instead of drifting into the middle of this stuff."

In four minutes the Berthon was slung outboard by means of the quadrant davits, and her crew rowed towards the derelict lifebuoy.

"Here you are, sir," said the bow-man to Cardyke, as he dexterously whisked the salvaged object into the boat. "There's some scrawl on it."

Scored deeply into the canvas were some words written in pencil. The midshipman examined the writing, but it was beyond him to decipher its meaning. It was in Dutch, a language that Cardyke was not familiar with, although it bore a slight resemblance to German.

On returning to the Frome the mid. produced his prize; but his superior was too intent upon the damage to the propeller to take very much notice of it. Nor was it till Cardyke pointed out that there was writing upon the buoy that Drake gave his attention to it.

"Scuttled. Finder please notify V. der Coote,
Rotterdam.—Stalkart, master, tug Vulkan."

"We've some good evidence here, by Jove!" exclaimed Drake. "Now comes the task of running down the miscreants."

"But the propeller?"

"Let it rip. We'll run her on three."

"That ought to give her twenty-three knots at the very least, sir," suggested Spanner, who had come up from the engine-room to report.

"Not with the helm slightly over to counteract the unequal drive," observed Drake. "She'll do seventeen comfortably, and I doubt whether the Impregnable in tow will be making more than seven. I'll carry on, even if there's only one propeller left."

Communicating his find by wireless Drake received instructions to cruise eastward, in order to effect a junction with two destroyers sent out from Dover, unless she picked up definite information from passing vessels that might enable her to follow in the track of the filibustered battle-cruiser.

"It won't do to fall in with the Dover t.b.d.'s," remarked Fielding. "They'll know we are crippled, and our chances of gaining kudos will be knocked on the head."

"I don't mean to if I can avoid it," agreed Drake. "We'll shape a course S.S.E. for a couple of hours, and then N.N.E. for another two hours, and so on. We'll still be carrying out instructions, you see, but it will be a precious long time before we get in touch with the Dover destroyers."

Fielding and Cardyke smiled. They knew Drake well enough by now to know that if there were a way of gaining his end he would generally do it successfully and diplomatically.

"It's my private opinion," continued the lieutenant, "that the Impregnable is not heading up-Channel at all, but rather towards the Atlantic. I don't know why, but that's my firm conviction; so the longer we take before we hear any news the sooner we'll be able to retrace our course. I only hope that the other destroyers sent from Portsmouth and Portland won't snap her up."

"So do I, sir," agreed Fielding.

"Sail-ho, on the starboard bow," sung out the look-out man.

"A tramp, judging by the smoke," remarked the sub. after the lapse of a few minutes.

Soon the vessel was observed to be steaming eastwards, so slowly that the following wind drove her smoke in a dense, trailing cloud over her bows.

Directly the Frome was within signalling distance the tramp made her number.

"SS. Steephill Castle of Hull," announced Fielding, after consulting the register. "She's light, by George! One blade of her propeller is quite clear of the water."

"Yes; I shouldn't care to be caught out in dirty weather in a craft so high in ballast as that," added Drake. "We'll close, and ask her if she has any information to give."

Drake made known his request by megaphone, and in reply the master of the tramp shouted from the bridge—

"Cruiser, two masts and three funnels, in tow. Passed her three and a half hours ago. Thought she had broken down."

"On what course?" asked Drake, eagerly.

"Due west, I should think, sir," replied the "old man." "Anything amiss?"

"We hardly know till we find her," replied the lieutenant, guardedly.

The Steephill Castle dipped her ensign in farewell, and the Frome returned the compliment; then, describing a quarter-circle, the destroyer headed due west on her quest for the filibustered Impregnable.

CHAPTER IV

THE OUTRAGE ON THE HIGH SEAS

It will now be necessary to follow up the events relating to the object of the torpedo-boat destroyer Frome's search.

The scrapped Dreadnought-cruiser Impregnable had been sold by public auction, the purchaser being Mynheer Van der Coote, shipbreaker, of Rotterdam. According to the usual terms of sale the purchaser was bound to complete the breaking-up of the ship within six months. The machinery could be utilised again, and, in consequence, was in fair order. Owing to the fact that it would be necessary to employ a large engine-room and stokehold staff to take the ship across to Holland under her own steam, Mynheer Van der Coote took the far more economical course of sending two powerful tugs to Portsmouth to tow the Impregnable to her last port.

Directly the cruiser gained Spithead the two dockyard tugs cast off and returned. The last link with Great Britain had been severed; the purchase money had been paid, and the obsolete craft was now private property.

Before the Warner Lightship was abeam the fog enveloped the ship, so that her tugs were quite invisible. Captain Stalkart, the master of the leading tug, therefore eased down to half speed, reduced the scope of hawser by one half, and steered a compass course towards the English Channel. The tugs' syrens kept up a continuous and discordant bellow—one prolonged blast followed by two short blasts, signifying that they had a vessel in tow—for the appalling risks of a collision in a fog were more than doubled by reason of the fact that the unwieldy craft lumbering astern was almost incapable of being manoeuvred with any degree of celerity.

At 4.45 the master of the tug heard the characteristic blast of the reed-horn of the Owers Light vessel, and deeming that the warning came from a bearing well on his port bow, altered his course a couple of points to starboard.

Suddenly a black shape, distorted out of its proportion by the watery atmosphere, loomed up dead ahead. There was no attempt made by the vessel—for such it was—to give warning of her presence. She was simply forging ahead with bare steerage way.

Signalling to the rearmost tug to go full speed astern, the master of the leading tender promptly gave orders for the engines to be stopped. He dared not go astern, otherwise the momentum of the Impregnable would cause the giant vessel to overrun her diminutive escort. As it was the cruiser forged ahead till the tug was swept alongside.

Just then the mysterious vessel, that had made no attempt to get out of the way, went astern, and, describing a graceful curve, ran alongside the Impregnable. There was a rending of steel as the ex-cruiser's torpedonet-booms were shorn from their securing-lashings by the wall-sided vessel. The next instant fifty men poured upon the Impregnable's upper deck; hawsers were passed out and the two ships were soon locked in a close embrace.

Captain Stalkart, knowing that something was amiss, but ignorant of what had actually occurred, shouted through his megaphone for the other tug to come alongside. She promptly complied, making fast on the port side of the Impregnable, and slightly astern of the first tug.

Under the impression that a serious collision had occurred, and wishing to do his best to save the huge vessel he was towing, Stalkart gave orders for the powerful centrifugal pumps to be manned, and the suction-pipes to be led aboard the Impregnable; but ere the hoses could be coupled up a score of men armed with revolvers and automatic pistols lowered themselves over the cruiser's side, and on to the two tugs.

The phlegmatic Dutchmen, finding it useless to resist, promptly ran below, their retreat being hastened by a few pistol-shots fired over their heads. To do the crews of the tugs personal injury was evidently not the intention of the assailants.

As for Captain Stalkart, the minute he saw how things were turning out, he ran into the chart-room and seized a revolver. Fortunately for his own sake he did not attempt to fire, nor did the aggressors find him for some considerable time. During that interval he wrote a hurried message on one of the lifebuoys, and heaved it over the side.

Meanwhile, in addition to the work of pillaging both tugs of everything that might be of service, the modern buccaneers were busily engaged in transhipping stores, arms, and ammunition from the tramp to the Impregnable.

It was soon evident that they had laid their plans carefully beforehand, and that the capture of the Impregnable was not an act on the spur of the moment. From the hold of the steamer twenty-five seven-pounder quick-firers with their mountings were soon hauled up, and placed in position on the captured cruiser. Tons of oil were pumped into her double bottoms; water and provisions were stowed away in the usual tanks and store-rooms.

Down in the Impregnable's engine-room men—experienced mechanics—were overhauling the machinery. Only a few weeks before the cruiser had been in commission with a nucleus crew, and, as is usually the case, her engines had lacked proper attention, but in less than a couple of hours the filibusters had succeeded in firing the oil-fuel burners and raising steam.

This done the Dutchmen were ordered to come up from below, and were placed in one of the store-rooms of the after-flats of the cruiser. The Vulkan had been scuttled and was sinking fast, but ere she dropped beneath the waves her master, the taciturn Stalkart, rushed from the chart-room, where he had been concealed, on to the bridge. Volubly cursing and shaking his fist at the rascally crowd who had sunk his ship, the captain remained bravely at his post, scorning the gestures that indicated that he should save himself.

The Vulkan's bows rose high in the air as her stern slipped beneath the surging cauldron of foam. In another instant the loyal skipper would have gone to his doom, when a lariat whizzed through the air. The noose tightened round Stalkart's portly waist, and, amid a round of jeers and ironical laughter, the Dutchman was hauled ignominiously but effectively on board the Impregnable.

The second tug suffered a similar fate; but just then a lifting of the fog revealed the presence of the ss. Wontwash.

For a few moments all was confusion, the crowd of men on the Impregnable's deck running below to hide themselves from the inquisitive gaze of the undesirable steamer. The Dutchmen, thinking that assistance was at hand, began to clamour for aid, till quieted by the silent threat of a revolver being pointed at them.

Seizing a megaphone the leader of the pirates—for that they were to all intents and purposes—sprang upon the fore-bridge.

"You vill clear out of dis!" he shouted. "No vant 'elp; go 'way."

The Wontwash's skipper was completely taken aback. Naturally he was at first under the impression that the tramp alongside the Impregnable was engaged in salvage work, and did not want outside interference that might lead to reduction of the salvage court's award; but when he saw that the steamer alongside bore no name, and that the men were far in excess of the number of an ordinary crew, and, in addition, armed, he decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and promptly did as he had been peremptorily told—he sheered off.

Directly the Wontwash was lost to view in the still thick haze men were lowered over the taffrail of the vessel that had effected the seizure of the battle-cruiser, and the words "Steephill Castle, Hull," were prominently painted on her stern. Ere this was completed the final stages of transferring the stores were finished, and the Impregnable's propellers began to revolve slowly.

The vessels then parted company, the pseudo Steephill Castle proceeding up Channel, while the Impregnable, steaming at a steady fifteen knots, headed due south.

Forty miles from the Sussex shore she eased down. The word Impregnable was erased from her stern and Independencia substituted. Her crew were mustered aft, divided into port and starboard watches, and told off to their respective quarters. The men were literally the scum of the Mediterranean ports—Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, Algerines, and Egyptians, with a renegade Englishman (formerly a naval petty officer) as bo'sun. The officers were mostly Spaniards, the captain being a native of Barcelona, and a member of a formidable Anarchist society.

All hands knew that theirs was a desperate and unlawful enterprise—piracy. The stake was a high one, the inducements great. In a few days all hands would either be wealthy or doomed to an ignominious end.

Juan Cervillo, the leader of the rascally crew, was a Spaniard of good family He had served as an officer in the Spanish Navy; but, imbued with revolutionary sentiments, he became mixed up in an anti-monarchist plot. Exposed, he was arrested, brought to trial; and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment.

Before he had done twelve months of his sentence he contrived, with the assistance of his revolutionary associates, to effect his escape from the prison-fortress of Saragossa. For some months he lay hidden in Barcelona, when his daring, undoubted courage, and vehement denunciations of all authority, gained him a prominent position amongst the anarchist community of that city.

As a delegate he attended the secret revolutionary conferences in Paris, and London, and the Mediterranean seaports; and in the course of his wanderings contrived to gather together a band of seafaring rascals in whom the piratical instincts of their forefathers lay dormant.

It wanted but a leader, bold, determined, and unscrupulous, to bind them together into a formidable band—and that leader was forthcoming in Juan Cervillo.

A daring raid upon one of the leading banks in Rome, and an equally successful coup in the commercial quarter of Marseilles, provided Juan Cervillo with ample funds. He could have retired into some remote South American town, and lived a life of luxury; but the desire for adventure and the lust for gold were too great.

With the money at his disposal he proposed to buy a swift cruiser, prey upon the world's sea-borne commerce, and recoup his outlay tenfold.

Then it was that the possibility of securing a discarded British warship occurred to him. Careful and guarded inquiries revealed the information that the Impregnable was leaving Portsmouth for Holland. He resolved to intercept her—and succeeded.

The next few days were to be spent in wholesale depredations; then, as soon as the high seas became too unsafe to continue his nefarious exploits, he meant to convey his booty to some out-of-the-way port, and, temporarily satisfied with his war upon civilisation, he would lie low till a favourable opportunity again occurred.

Thus, while the Frome, lured on a false scent, was running westward, the Independencia ex-Impregnable was steaming southward, ready like a beast of prey to pounce down upon the first unsuspecting merchant ship that came across Cervillo's course.

CHAPTER V

OVERHAULED

"I believe we're on a fool's errand," remarked Fielding to the midshipman.

They were on the bridge; Drake had turned in. It was now two bells of the middle watch (1 a.m.), and the Frome was still heading westward as fast as her motors could impart power to the three undamaged propellers. Beyond the rhythmical purr of the engines, the "swish" of the water as the destroyer's knife-like bow cleft the waves, and the mournful slatting of the signal halliards against the mast, hardly a sound was audible.

"Why, sir?" asked Cardyke, lowering his night-glasses, and stepping behind the shelter of the "storm-dodgers."

"Why—because I think we are. We ought to have overhauled our quarry hours ago—certainly before sunset. With lights out, they might easily alter course, and let us run by them like a blind man past a notice to trespassers. What's more, we're right out of the beaten track. All up-Channel traffic will be heading for St. Catherine's light, and we're well to the south'ard of the Start by now.

"It's a cool bit of work, snapping up a ship almost in sight of Portsmouth, and in the English Channel, too," remarked Cardyke.

"Yes, and it's the audacity of it all that gives the beggars a chance of success. But what can be the object of a tramp lumbering along with a disabled cruiser in tow? She'll be spotted at sunrise, mark my words; but I'm afraid the Frome won't have a look in. Well?"

The monosyllable was addressed to a seaman who had scaled the bridge-ladder.

"Message, sir; wireless," replied the man, laconically.

"H'm!" grumbled Fielding, taking the slip of paper. "The admiral wants to know our position, I suppose. That will mean a recall, and a wigging for not carrying out orders. I wish we'd crippled the wireless for a few hours. Take this, Cardyke, and see what it's all about."

The midshipman took the paper, and entered the little chart-room. The next instant he was by the sub.'s side.

"She's at it again," he exclaimed. "Here's an urgent call for assistance from ss. Yosen Maru, lat. 50-2-14 N., long. 3-45-9 W., steaming NNE.¹/₄E. Requires urgent assistance. Pursued and fired upon by large unknown vessel. How's that?"

"Forty miles off, and a general call will bring a dozen vessels to her assistance," replied Fielding, gloomily. "Cut below and inform Drake."

Cardyke bounded down the steep ladder, and made his way to the wardroom. The lieutenant was awake in a moment.

"We've been tricked," he exclaimed. "But we'll be in time yet. Pass the word for Mr. Black."

Drake was soon on the bridge, and the Frome's course was altered towards the position given by the Yosen Maru. As soon as Black, the gunner, came on deck, orders were given to clear for action.

The wireless operator repeatedly called up the vessel in distress, which was known to be a Japanese liner bound for London. But beyond the first call for aid no message came from the threatened vessel. The ominous silence told its own tale.

With the spray flying in cascades right over the fore-bridge, for the wind was now dead ahead, the Frome thrashed her way through the darkness. An hour and a half passed, then—

"Rocket, throwing blue and red stars, sir," announced one of the men stationed on the bridge.

"Whither away?"

"Dead ahead, sir. There's another."

"That's the Yosen Maru, sure enough," exclaimed Drake. "We'll be in time, after all."

The grey dawn was paling in the eastern sky as the Frome eased down within a cable's length of the huge Japanese liner, and a couple of the destroyer's boats were promptly lowered and manned, Fielding being in charge of one, and Cardyke of the other.

It was soon evident that the Yosen Maru was helpless and drifting broadside on to the fairly stiff breeze. Her rudder had been shot away, and a gaping hole under her counter, a few feet above the waterline, showed that a shot had been fired with disastrous result. Her accommodation ladder had been lowered, and no attempt had been made to haul it up again, so towards this means of entry the destroyer's boats gave way.

Fielding was the first to board, and at the head of the ladder was met by a group of calm, imperturbable Oriental officers.

"We have been boarded by pirates, sir," announced one of the Japanese, in excellent English. "A large cruiser intercepted us and ordered us to heave-to. We asked the reason, and in reply a shot was fired across our bows, and another shattered our rudder. Under the circumstances we could do nothing more than ease down. We were boarded by a boat's crew, and the villain in charge demanded to see our papers, pointing revolvers at the passengers and crew to keep them intimidated. Our purser was compelled to hand over the whole of the bullion in the strong-room, to the value of three hundred thousand yen, some of our stores and provisions were stolen, and ten of our first-class passengers, including General Oki, who is on a mission to the British Court, and Mr. Hokosuka, the eminent financier of Nagasaki, were taken out of the ship. Finally having done considerable damage in our engine-room by means of a charge of dynamite, the rascals returned to their ship, and steamed off."

"Was the pirate ship alone?" asked Fielding. "And did she clear off under her own steam?"

"Certainly," replied the Japanese officer. "She headed S.S.W., going about twenty knots, as far as I could judge."

"I told you we'd been fooled," exclaimed the sub. to Cardyke. "The Impregnable was not towed away—she managed to raise steam, and apparently did very well. I'd like to have a few moments with the skipper of the Steephill Castle. The lying rogue is more than likely in league with these up-to-date pirates."

"Well, gentlemen," continued Fielding, turning to the officers of the Yosen Maru, "we had better be off, and try to overhaul the pirate vessel. We can do very little by way of assistance to your ship, I fear."

"Quite true," replied the spokesman. "The weather is moderate, and we have plenty of sea-room. Before they put our wireless out of gear we heard that the British cruiser Dionysius was coming to our aid, as well as the Red Star liner Scandinavia."

"Then you'll be well looked after," said the sub. And saluting the Japanese officers, he descended the accommodation ladder.

"Those rascals are not wanting in cool cheek,—holding the passengers as hostages, I suppose," commented Drake, when Fielding had made his report. "Well, I suppose we must call up Portsmouth, and inform the admiral of what has occurred. But there's nothing to prevent us overhauling the Impregnable. At all events I'll have a shot at it."

This was Drake's chief fault: he was overanxious to make an individual score. The glory of capturing the Impregnable was to be the Frome's, if possible. The idea of co-operation with the other British destroyers was distasteful to him. "Alone I did it" was to be his motto, the "I" including the officers and crew of the little craft under his command.

As fast as her three undamaged propellers could drive her the Frome tore in the direction the pirate cruiser was supposed to have taken. Eagerly glasses were brought to bear upon the horizon, in the hope of discerning a cloud of smoke—the oil-laden vapour from the Impregnable's liquid fuel.

At eight bells Fielding and Cardyke turned in for a well-earned rest but their sleep was soon to be rudely disturbed. Just before noon the slumbering officers were aroused by a messenger with the news that the Impregnable had been sighted.

"No mistake this time, I hope, sir?" asked the sub., as he swung himself up the bridge-ladder three steps at a time.

"That's the old Impregnable," asserted the lieutenant-commander, confidently. "The question is how the dickens are we to do the trick? We can't very well use the quick-firers, or we may bowl over some of the Japanese hostages. For the same reason we dare not let loose a torpedo."

"We can hail her, sir, and demand her surrender. If she refuses we must hang on, call up the other destroyers to our assistance, and take forcible possession of her."

"Do you think they'll open fire, sir?" asked Cardyke, eagerly.

"Hardly likely, you young fire-eater," replied Drake, with a grim smile. "They won't risk going so far. They know we have wireless; but if they thought they could do the trick without witnesses they wouldn't hesitate to try and sink us."

"They didn't sink the Yosen Maru."

"No; that strengthens my opinion that they won't go to extreme measures. There was none of the cut-throat, walk-the-plank style of the eighteenth-century pirate about them. No, I don't anticipate much difficulty but we'll be prepared."

An hour later the Frome was only a mile astern from her chase. The Impregnable's speed was visibly diminishing.

"They've a cool cheek, by Jove!" ejaculated Fielding. "They've actually painted another name on her."

"Yes," agreed Drake, who, like his subordinate, was making good use of his binoculars. "It's Independencia. That's Spanish, I believe."

"They're hoisting their colours," continued the sub. "A Brazilian ensign. Won't do, my hearties. You can't bluff us."

"She's slowed down, sir," exclaimed Cardyke. "Her propellers are going astern."

"What ship is that?" shouted Drake through a megaphone, as the Frome slowed down at cable's length on the Independencia's starboard quarter.

"Brazilian cruiser Independencia, from Cherbourg for Bahia Blanca," was the reply.

"A bit out of your course, old man," muttered Drake. "Stand by, we are sending a boat."

"For why? We want no communication."

"Then you'll have to want. If you give us any trouble we'll blow you out of the water," and the lieutenant pointed significantly towards the foremost torpedo-tube, around which its crew were standing ready to launch home the deadly weapon.

It was mere bluff on Drake's part. He dared not, as he had said, let loose a torpedo, and the weapon was only a practice one, its war-head being stowed away below. But to Drake's satisfaction the captain of the pirate-cruiser agreed to receive the boat.

"That's good!" ejaculated Drake. "Now, Fielding, off you go. Round up their gold-braided gentry and lock them up in the chart-room. Take possession of the bridge, and make them follow in our wake. They are only milk and water pirates, after all."

"Am I to take away the whaler, sir?" asked Cardyke.

"Very good. But when Mr. Fielding has taken the necessary steps to secure control over the prize, you will return—you understand? Good—now look alive, or we'll have someone else's finger in the pie." And Drake gave a hasty, comprehensive glance astern, heaving a sigh of relief that the horizon was unobscured. Here was the Frome's chance, he meant to make good use of it.

The mid. was wearing his dirk—the practically useless emblem of authority—and in addition he buckled on a holster containing a Service revolver. Both boats' crews, armed with rifles and bayonets—for the old British cutlass that worked such doughty deeds in days gone by is now a thing of the past—tumbled into the little craft as they lay alongside.

"Give way!" ordered Fielding, and the order was repeated by Cardyke in the whaler.

With less than a dozen yards separating the two boats the boarders pulled lustily towards the gigantic cruiser as she lay rising and falling slightly to the Channel rollers.

There was no accommodation ladder, that article having been unshipped before the vessel was put up for sale, so Fielding's boat ran alongside the starboard quarter, where a number of "chocks" afforded a rough and ready sort of ladder. The bow-man laid hold of a torpedo-boom bracket with his boathook, and the sub. prepared to ascend, Cardyke's craft lying just astern.

On the Independencia's deck no one was visible save a quartermaster who was leaning over the stanchion-rails. Having no man-ropes to assist him, Fielding's task was an awkward, not to say dangerous, one. He was half-way up the thirty-odd feet of freeboard, with a couple of bluejackets at his heels, when a noose rope was adroitly thrown over his shoulders, and jerked tight. Simultaneously a lariat descended into the whaler, caught Cardyke round the waist, and before any of his men could prevent it, the mid. was jerked up into the air.

With a crash two pieces of iron were dropped into the boats, staving out their garboards.

The pirate cruiser's propellers began to churn the water, and the Independencia gathered way. The bow-man of each boat endeavoured to secure a hold, but the drag of the water-logged craft was too great.

[Illustration: A NOOSE WAS ADROITLY THROWN OVER HIS SHOULDERS AND JERKED TIGHT.]

The predicament was an ignominious one. The boats' crews were swimming around their swamped boats, their officers were prisoners in the hands of the men they had hoped to capture, and the Frome, ere she could give chase, had to pick up the immersed bluejackets.

Meanwhile, the Independencia, steaming at twenty knots, was rapidly leaving the destroyer astern, while Drake could only shake his fist in impotent rage.

CHAPTER VI

TRAPPED

Midshipman Cardyke was soon hauled upon the quarter-deck of the pirate cruiser, and, in spite of his struggles, was secured by half-a-dozen ruffians. His revolver and dirk were taken from him, then he was lashed to one of the quarter davits, and left in that ignominious position to reflect upon the circumstances under which he had been snared.

He knew that his captors had a definite object in securing him to the davit. He was in full view of the Frome, and his late comrades could easily distinguish him through their binoculars. A hasty glance over his shoulder revealed the fact that there were several of the passengers of the Yosen Maru, and some of the crew of the Dutch tugs, in equally exposed positions. It was obviously intended that they were placed there in order to prevent the British destroyer from opening fire upon her gigantic antagonist.

In the meantime Fielding was causing his captors a good deal of trouble. He had contrived to take a turn round a projection on the ship's side with the line that had caught him; and although his assailants hauled on the rope till it was on the point of breaking, they could not succeed in landing their bag. Neither could the sub. disengage himself from the toils of the running bowline, for his idea was to slip out of the noose and cast himself into the sea, trusting to be picked up by his own craft.

As for the two men who had followed him, one had leapt back into the swamped whaler. The other stuck gamely to his superior, and Fielding, looking down, recognised the man as Tom Hardy, the coxswain of his boat.

"Get out of this, Hardy," exclaimed the sub., breathlessly. "Strike out for it. The Frome will pick you up."

"Orders is orders, sir," replied Hardy. "You said as how I was to follow you, and here I am. Besides, I'm not much of a hand at swimming, sir."

"All right!" said Fielding, grimly. "But you'll find yourself in a bit of a fix."

The sub. appreciated the coxswain's devotion; for Hardy was an excellent swimmer in spite of his statement to the contrary, and was willingly surrendering his chance of escaping from the doubtful hospitality of the pirate crew.

All the while there was an incessant jabbering going on above, the Dagoes shouting and dancing about on deck, enraged at the stubbornness of their principal captive.

"Can you get at my revolver, Hardy?" asked the sub., who had been vainly attempting to free his arms sufficiently to reach the weapon in his holster.

"I'll try, sir; but what for? They'll plug you, sir, sure as fate."

"We'll put a bullet through this line, and swim for it."

"What about Mr. Cardyke, sir?"

"Cardyke? Has he been caught too? That alters the case. Where is he?"

"Hauled aboard."

"I hope the villains haven't hurt him. Look here, Hardy, I'm going to make a dash up and over the side. Follow me as smartly as you can. Good heavens! What have they done to young Cardyke?"

For, happening to look up, Fielding saw the mid. lashed to the davit. Thinking that the pirates were about to drop the lad, bound as he was, over the side, the sub. was seized with a sudden and desperate resolution.

The men on deck had desisted hauling upon the rope. With a smart jerk Fielding unhitched it from the eyebolt that had proved such a stumbling block to his captors, then scrambled swiftly and agilely up the remaining distance of freeboard.

In a trice he was over the stanchions, and before the olive-coloured mob could realise it, the sub. was in the midst of them, hitting out with his fists with terrific force. In this he was ably seconded by the coxswain, and for a few moments it seemed as if the two Britishers would clear the quarter-deck.

The Dagoes rallied, and, unfortunately for Fielding, although he had freed his arms from the bowline, the noose had slipped as far as his ankles. A lithe and muscular Algerine seized the end of the rope, and Fielding, his legs literally jerked from under him, fell heavily on the deck.

For another fifteen seconds Hardy stood over the prostrate body of his officer, holding out like a bersark. Luckily the sub. had not used his revolver, nor had Hardy drawn his bayonet. The pirates seemed unwilling to do injury to the officer, but their consideration was not extended towards the gallant and devoted bluejacket. A Spaniard, advancing stealthily from behind, dealt the coxswain a heavy blow across the head with a hand-spike, and Hardy fell to the deck.

"You no play fool wid me. Me Juan Cervillo, capitan ob dis ship," announced the head of the lawless mob, standing in a tragedian's attitude, with arms folded and chest expanded, before the overpowered sub. "You jus' behave. No hurt."

Fielding did not reply. He was humiliated. One thing he regretted in particular was that in his headlong rush his iron knuckles had not come in contact with Cervillo's sleek, oily features.

At a word from the pirate captain the sub. was carried up to the after-bridge, and ignominiously secured to a semaphore post. Here he was left to enjoy his surroundings as best he might, and reflect upon his undignified position.

Meanwhile some of the crew were holding a consultation as to what was to be done with the still unconscious Hardy. Some advocated dropping him overboard, others, judging the British bluejacket by the low standard set up by the renegade petty officer who acted as quartermaster, were of the opinion that if the coxswain recovered from the crack over the head he might become a useful member of the crew. So Hardy was lifted and unceremoniously carried for'ard.

With anxious gaze Cardyke watched the rapidly receding destroyer. He could see her manoeuvring slowly through the water, her two remaining boats being engaged in the work of picking up the swimmers. Drake was paying dearly for his disinclination for co-operation: two officers and the coxswain missing, two boats and the men's rifles hopelessly lost, and his reputation very much at stake.

"I wish the Frome would blow this vessel out of the water," thought the mid., but instantly it occurred to him to wonder what would happen to Fielding and the rest of the captives if the destroyer did open fire. Beyond doing damage to the unarmoured portion of the pirate ship, the Frome's comparatively light ordnance would make little or no impression upon her gigantic antagonist.

"She's following us, by Jove!" exclaimed the mid. "I wish I had a pair of binoculars, and was able to use them. I wonder what Drake is going to do?"

Yes, the Frome was tearing along, yet gaining slowly, for the stokers of the Independencia were toiling their hardest, pumping crude petroleum into the complex array of burners. Columns of black smoke, tinged with flame, shot from the tall funnels of the cruiser. Every possible inch that could be got out of her was made use of. Her neglected engines were beginning to run more smoothly. She might hold her own, or might even shake off the pursuing destroyer.

The midshipman could not help noticing the lack of discipline amongst the motley crew. Seamen, with a couple of revolvers stuck in their belts, and cigars in their mouths, would stroll aimlessly along the quarter-deck, give a glance at the British destroyer, and curtly question their officers as to the position of affairs. Some of the latter were not above accepting cigars and cigarettes from the men. The officers were decked out in gaudy uniforms, while the men wore coarse canvas jumpers and trousers. Some wore canvas shoes, others rope-soled boots, but the majority went bare-footed. The only person who seemed to be able to exercise any real authority was Juan Cervillo.

Nearer and nearer drew the Frome till she was but a couple of miles astern, steering a course well on the Independencia's port quarter, and studiously avoiding her wake. The destroyer did not court further trouble by running over a grass hawser or other obstruction purposely thrown over by the chased ship.

Cardyke felt much easier in his mind when he saw that the Frome was gaining. He had such a supreme faith in his comrades that he felt certain that rescue was merely the question of a few hours at the very outside. Of what was to be done to effect this desirable business he had no idea; but it would be managed all right. Before sunset he would be having dinner in the destroyer's wardroom.

Presently Cervillo climbed up to the after-bridge, and, taking his stand close to where Fielding was secured, watched the destroyer through a telescope. After a lengthy examination he called to one of his officers, who in turn gave voluminous directions to a party of seamen. In a leisurely manner they began to bring up ammunition for some of the quick-firers mounted amidships on the starboard side of the ship.

Cardyke could see that the muzzles were depressed and trained slightly abaft the beam; but unless the cruiser ported her helm it would be a matter of impossibility to fire upon her pursuer.

Bang! A sharp report, followed by a shrill screech of the projectile, announced that the Frome had opened fire with one of her foremost guns. The missile struck the water at less than two hundred yards to starboard, threw up a column of water thirty feet in the air, and ricochetted thrice ere it dipped for the last time.

It was purposely aimed wide of the chase, but it showed that the destroyer meant business.