Slowly, like a convalescent taking his first walk and as yet doubtful of his strength, the Hawk began to push the seas aside and move ahead. The engines, instead of working with rhythmic regularity, were banging and thumping in jerky spasms—still, they were working—the bridge shook with their ponderous vibrations, while the wire funnel stays tautened and slacked as the smokestack quivered.

The first duty accomplished after the clearing up of the decks was the disposal of the dead, which were placed in canvas bags weighted with firebars to ensure their sinking. There were no prayers, services, or ceremonies of any kind; they were simply dropped over the side....

In the hold Calamity and the mate were at work with their coats off and shirt-sleeves rolled up. Some of the hatch-covers had been removed to secure better ventilation and a couple of lanterns suspended from the girders flickered feebly in the semi-twilight. Against the bulkheads were two rows of mattresses arranged so as to leave a passage between them, and on some of these lay wounded men, each with a coarse, black blanket thrown over him. The Captain, assisted by Mr. Dykes, was attending to the more serious cases in a manner which caused the mate considerable secret astonishment. He had expected to see the skipper perform the duties of surgeon in a rough and ready if not a brutal way, and had felt a strong sympathy for his prospective victims. Instead, Calamity handled the men with almost professional skill, performing even serious operations with deft, quick fingers, and without either nervousness or hesitation. A smile, a cheery word of encouragement, a full-flavoured joke worked wonders, and a man, even in excruciating pain, would grin feebly at some broad jest uttered by the Captain.

Dora Fletcher, who had thought better of her first hasty decision, was dressing some of the minor wounds. To her, Calamity's new rÔle came as a startling revelation of a hitherto unsuspected phase of his character. She, who had seen him commit acts of unquestionable brutality, now watched him pass from bed to bed with an air of quiet assurance that inspired even the worst cases with new confidence and hope. Men flinched apprehensively as he approached to examine their injuries, but his touch, though firm, was as gentle as a woman's, and their fears were quickly set at rest.

He scarcely even glanced at the girl, and when he did so it was to give some curt directions as from a surgeon to a nurse. Yet she felt strangely happy and triumphant, for at last he had been forced to recognise and to demand her assistance. She felt herself necessary to him, and the terse orders, involving her co-operation in the work of succour, seemed to her a tacit admission of the fact. Henceforth she would at least be an entity in his eyes; he would have to acknowledge her existence, even if he resented it.

After the Captain and Mr. Dykes had gone; throughout the whole night, indeed, the girl remained at her post. She found plenty to do; giving cooling drinks to those whose throats were parched with fever, readjusting dressings which had worked out of place, and performing the hundred and one offices which fall to the lot of a watcher of the sick. At intervals during the night the mate or Smith would enter the dim hold, which now reeked with the pungent odour of antiseptics, to proffer their services, and once Mr. Dykes tried to persuade her to turn in. But she rejected the suggestion indignantly, and ordered him out of the place, whereupon he departed sheepishly. At about five o'clock in the morning Calamity looked in again and seemed surprised to find her there.

"How long have you been on watch?" he asked.

"Since you left," she answered.

"Then you'd no right to. Dykes or Smith should have told off a man to keep watch. Get off to your bunk. I don't want a sick woman aboard."

Without a word she left the sick-bay, and then, for the first time, realised how exhausted she really was. Without troubling to undress, she flung herself upon the bunk and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

All that day and the next as well, the Hawk chugged her way in a northerly direction, her speed never exceeding six knots and sometimes falling below that. How McPhulach had contrived to patch up her engines sufficiently to do even so much was a mystery no one but himself could have explained. Still, they might break down again at any moment, and it was absolutely necessary to find some port where the repairs could be carried out more thoroughly, and with the proper appliances. In the meantime much of the damage sustained in the encounter with the yacht had been repaired. Paint and canvas had done much to cover the effects of shot and shell, and outwardly, at least, the Hawk had resumed her normal appearance. But it was merely superficial, like the creams and cosmetics used by a faded beauty to hide the ravages of time. In fact she was, as Smith put it, "a whited bloomin' sepulchre."

On the second morning, as Miss Fletcher was going down to the hold, she met Mr. Dykes.

"The skipper's orders are that you're to take four-hour watches, so that you'll have a rest between each spell," he said.

She merely nodded and passed into the hold. The dim, yellow glow of the lanterns was fading in the growing daylight, making the surroundings more gloomy and depressing than even the half-light. She moved from bed to bed with noiseless steps, performing various little services for the sufferers. One man, who knew that he was dying, asked her to write down and witness his last will and testament—a curiously pathetic document—and for another she wrote a letter that was to be posted at the first port the ship touched. In a far corner she found a man making feeble efforts to undo the front of his shirt. He was too weak to speak, and, wondering what he wanted, the girl unbuttoned it to find a small silver crucifix suspended from a piece of string round his neck. Divining his need, she placed it in his hand, and the coarse, misshapen fingers closed over the Symbol; thus he died.

Soon afterwards the Captain entered and passed between the beds, stopping to ask each of the patients how he was getting on, and giving a cheery word of encouragement to everyone. At last he reached the bed where Dora Fletcher stood over the dead figure, whose fingers still clasped the little silver crucifix.

"H'm," he grunted, "another loss. Anything to report?"

In a few words the girl described the condition and progress of the various patients. At the conclusion Calamity nodded, but made no comment.

"I should like to ask you a favour, Captain," she said quietly.

"A favour? Well, what is it?" he demanded in a tone that was the reverse of encouraging.

"Do you think you could give this poor fellow"—she indicated the dead man on the bed—"a Christian burial? I—I think he would have wished it."

A look of mingled surprise and annoyance came into the Captain's face as he glanced at the unconscious figure.

"The man's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, of course," answered the girl, puzzled by the question.

"Then what difference can it make to him how he's buried?" demanded Calamity, and, without waiting for an answer, walked away.

Later on that day Mr. Dykes urged the request again at Miss Fletcher's desire.

"I can't make distinctions," replied the Captain. "The man's got to take his chance of paradise with the rest. I'm not going to give him an unfair advantage over the others. Besides, this is a cheerful ship, and I don't intend to depress the living by reading burial services over the dead. They'll get their proper ratings without my assistance."

So that evening the corpse, sewed up in canvas and weighted with a piece of pig-iron, was cast over the side without ceremony.

Early on the following morning the look-out upon the foc'sle head reported land on the starboard bow.

The news brought the men rushing on deck at once, for the sight of land to sailors at sea is always an interesting event, savouring of adventure, women, and wine. The news was immediately reported to the Captain, who hurried on to the bridge and scrutinised the seeming cloud for some time through the glasses which Smith, who was on watch, handed to him.

"H'm," grunted Calamity, "an island."

"One of the Palau Group I should say, sir."

"Which means that it's German—eh?"

"Was German, sir," corrected the second-mate.

"There's no knowing; among so many scattered islands it's quite possible that one or two may have been overlooked by our cruisers."

"Maybe, sir," answered Smith doubtfully.

Calamity again focussed the glasses on the dark smudge in the dim distance. As he had just pointed out to the second-mate, it was quite possible that some of the small islands which went to make up what was once called the Bismarck Archipelago had escaped official annexation. This seemed the more probable since two German vessels, the gunboat and the commerce-destroyer, were apparently still at large in these waters. Both ships, particularly the former, would require a coaling station not too far away, and what more likely, therefore, than that there should be one hidden away among these innumerable islands?

The Hawk slowly bore down upon the land, but her speed was now so reduced that night had set in before those on board were able to get a really good view. By the following morning, however, they found themselves within a mile of it, and its palm-fringed beaches could be seen plainly from the deck. There was nothing about the island to excite wonder or interest, save that it just happened to be dry land amidst a boundless waste of blue waters. Numbers of such islands, many of them far larger, were to be met with in these latitudes.

Yet, because it was land, and suggestive of illicit pleasures, there was an air of suppressed excitement aboard the Hawk. Throughout the day she coasted slowly round it, but never once did a canoe or a catamaran put off to trade; indeed, not a vestige of human life was to be seen. At last, after they had nearly completed a circuit of the island, a small harbour was sighted at the eastern extremity. On a hill, overlooking the entrance, was a structure which suggested a fort, and this at once gave Calamity the idea that the gunboat which had hitherto eluded him was probably ensconced within this harbour. To "dig out" the pirate and take possession of her spoils was the first thought which occurred to him, but another and a stronger motive made him decide to enter the harbour at all costs. This was the fact that the Hawk's engines were next door to useless, and, unless they could be more effectually repaired, would become entirely so. It was quite possible, he reflected, that if the island really was a German station, there would be appliances for dealing with engine-room mishaps.

So, towards sundown, he steered boldly for the harbour, even blowing the steam syren to call attention to his visit. The flagstaff on the fort, he noticed, was bare, although as the Hawk drew nearer it was possible to make out an inconspicuous wireless installation.

"German without a doubt," he remarked to himself. "If it were British the Union Jack would be floating up there."

He turned to Mr. Dykes and in a few words explained what he wanted done. The Hawk was to pose as a harmless American merchantman which had put in for the purpose of trying to obtain some coal. The large crew, totally out of proportion to the number required to man a peaceful "tramp," were to remain in the foc'sle, except one or two who were to lounge about the deck for show purposes. Therefore in a very few minutes the decks were deserted except for the look-out and a couple of grimy firemen who leant over the bulwarks expectorating into the water. Half an hour later, the Hawk reached the mouth of the harbour and the syren emitted three ear-piercing shrieks.

The sound had scarcely died away when a boat, manned by natives and with a white man seated in the stern-sheets, put off from a small, wooden jetty beneath the fort. When within hailing distance, the man in the stern stood up and put both hands to his mouth.

"Wie heisst das schiff?" he bawled.

"Don't get you," answered Calamity; "have another try."

"Vot schip vos dot?" bellowed the other, who was evidently some sort of port official.

"This is the American steamer Hawk, Singapore for Valparaiso."

"Vy you no show your flarg?" inquired the official, his boat coming nearer the Hawk every moment.

"Sorry; if I'd known it was your birthday, guess I'd have hoisted a bit of bunting," replied the pseudo Yankee skipper, and gave an order which resulted in the Stars and Stripes fluttering out astern.

The reply, however, did not appear to please the official.

"You 'eave-to!" he commanded. "I vant to see your papers."

Calamity rang down "Stop," the engines ceased thudding and a couple of men came out on deck and threw a rope-ladder over the side. A moment later the boat came alongside and the official, a short, fat little man, ascended the ladder with some difficulty, alighting on deck hot and breathless. Meanwhile his coffee-coloured cox'n having made the boat fast to a rung of the rope-ladder, sat down and lighted a cheroot.

"You vas der Captain?" asked the newcomer of Calamity, as soon as he had recovered his breath.

"Yes."

"You must produce your papers."

"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.

When this had been explained Calamity and his officers set about making preparations for the landing. A party consisting of as many men as could be packed into the ship's boats was to effect a landing under cover of the darkness, while those left on board were to open fire on the fort with the machine-guns directly the enemy discovered the attack. By this means it was hoped to cover the landing operations and prevent the defenders turning their heavier guns on the storming party. To this end Mr. Dykes was placed in temporary command of the Hawk, Calamity himself undertaking to lead the attack from the shore.

In a remarkably short space of time the preparations were complete, and the only thing they waited for now was darkness—the swift, enveloping darkness of the tropics.