CHAPTER XIV

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET

"DON'T distress yourself, Mr. Sinclair," said Captain Brookes, "it may cause my guests considerable uneasiness. Reply by merely acknowledging the signal; no more. Then report to me the earliest moment at which the ship can be undocked."

When the lieutenant had retired the captain turned to his officers.

"This is a strange business, gentlemen," he remarked, briskly, "though we must be prepared to deal with little unpleasantnesses of this sort. In the first place I did not expect a British squadron in these waters, still less did I think they would worry me with messages of this kind. I can only conclude that a telegraphic message has been sent from Lota or Coronel apprising the fleet of our presence here. In any case they've been mighty smart about it."

"What do you propose to do, sir?" asked Lieutenant Slade.

"Do? Why, trick them. Look here, Mr. Tregarthen," he added, "I'll remember my promise to you, and what is more, it's my resolution not to commit any action that may be regarded as the act of a belligerent. Meanwhile it would be a good opportunity for you to write your report to the Admiralty, for, mark my words, they'll send a boat in the morning."

"I've already done so, sir," replied Gerald. "Do you wish to see the document?"

"No, no; I have the greatest confidence in you, Mr. Tregarthen; it would be a breach of etiquette on my part if I were to supervise your correspondence."

"I have not the slightest objection----"

"But I have, so please say no more on this subject. Ha! Here's Sinclair once more."

"Message dispatched as stated, sir. The bos'n reports ship will be ready to be undocked at midnight," laconically announced the officer of the watch.

"Very good--carry on," was the stereotyped reply.

Captain Brookes appeared to be in no hurry. The dinner seemed unduly prolonged, and it was six bells ere the captain set the example by going on deck.

Away in the offing the powerful beams of the searchlights of the blockading squadron played continuously on the town and harbour, while from the mastheads of the ships the flashing signals blinked incessantly. Judging by the number of beams there were at least four vessels, but of what strength the officers of the _Olive Branch_ were unable to ascertain.

In spite of Captain Brookes's coolness a sense of uneasiness pervaded the officers and men of the trapped cruiser, for without resorting to extreme measures it seemed impossible for the _Olive Branch_ to make a bid for freedom.

Punctually at midnight the sound of rushing water announced that the sluices to the culverts were opened, and three-quarters of an hour later the cruiser, now fit to proceed to sea, was warped into the centre of the harbour.

The commandante and the alcalde were sent ashore, all claims settled, and with stores and water tanks replenished, the _Olive Branch_ swung easily at her cable, awaiting the dawn.

"Do you recognise any of these vessels, Mr. Tregarthen?" asked Captain Brookes as the sun appeared over the summit of the Andes.

"Yes, sir; the one flying the commodore's broad pennant is the _Niobe_, protected cruiser; the others are the _Melampus, Cambrian_, and _Amethyst_."

"All out-of-date vessels on their last legs," commented the captain of the _Olive Branch_. "I suppose they are good enough for the ordinary work on this station; but, by Jove! it's lucky for them that I can keep myself under control. Either that commodore is mad, or he does not know the risk he's running."

"Is it madness to carry out orders, sir?" asked Gerald, quietly.

"Under certain conditions, yes; discretion should always be a proviso in such cases. But here comes a boat."

As he spoke a steam pinnace flying the white ensign came pelting towards the harbour, throwing up columns of spray as she plunged through the agitated water on the bar.

"Ship the accommodation ladder," ordered the officer of the watch, and for the first time in the commission of the _Olive Branch_ was this means of gaining access to the cruiser made use of.

"Desire the officer to step down to my cabin," said Captain Brookes, as he turned to leave the quarter-deck.

The pinnace made the foot of the ladder to a nicety, and a lieutenant in full uniform, accompanied by a "sub," came over the side, punctiliously, yet sourly, returning the salute.

"Hello, Tregarthen! What the dickens are you doing aboard this packet?" exclaimed the British officer in undisguised astonishment. "Don't you know me?"

"Yes, of course; it's Blake."

"Right, old man; but again, why masquerading in mufti on this hooker?"

"Because I cannot help it," replied Gerald. "To be exact, I'm a prisoner, though only a nominal one. Also, I'm on leave. In another twenty-three days I am supposed to rejoin the _Calder_, but I'm afraid I shan't."

"We'll rescue you, old fellow, never fear."

"Don't be so sure about that. It's a long story, but this letter will explain matters. Now you had better be off, for the captain awaits you in his cabin, and the officer of the watch looks as if he's growing impatient." So saying Gerald handed the lieutenant the document he had prepared, and withdrew to where Stockton was observing, with mixed feelings, the pinnace of the _Niobe_ as she lay alongside.

In less than a quarter of an hour the English lieutenant, accompanied by Captain Brookes, reappeared on the quarter-deck. Without betraying any of the circumstances of the interview the former went over the side, and the pinnace steamed swiftly back to her parent ship.

"Well, gentlemen, it's only right that you should know the true state of affairs," began the captain. "I have affirmed that, save for the matter concerning the detention of Mr. Tregarthen and Mr. Stockton, I have never committed any action against the British Government that warrants such interference, and therefore I question the commodore's right to demand our surrender. If, in the execution of my self-imposed duty, I have unfortunately been compelled to take stern measures with the _Afrika_, that quarrel is between the German authorities and myself. On that score I have made my protest to the commodore of yonder squadron."

An hour later the pinnace returned, the lieutenant bearing a verbal message from the British commodore that he was there to carry out orders, not to quibble over them, but that he was prepared to put Captain Brookes's protest before the Admiralty in a favourable light should the surrender be immediately carried out.

This message the lieutenant gave in the presence of all the officers of the _Olive Branch_, possibly imagining that the moral effect might be greater.

Captain Brookes's swarthy countenance darkened.

"Go back to your ship, sir!" he thundered. "Inform your superior officer that I scornfully refuse his terms. Here is the _Olive Branch. If he wants her, let him come in and take her_."

A low murmur of applause from his officers greeted this announcement, and once again the English lieutenant returned to his ship.

"I am beginning to repent of our bargain, Mr. Tregarthen," remarked the captain. "But, by Jove! I'll keep my word. We are safe enough for the time being, for they will never dare to enter the harbour without obtaining the consent of the Chilian Government. Meanwhile I can only hope for an on-shore gale and a dark night."

All that day and the night following the blockading squadron remained on the _qui vive_, but on the next morning the gale that Captain Brookes wished for had begun.

Dead on shore it blew, the crested breakers thrashing upon the shallows that flanked the entrance. The sky was overcast, and heavy rain descended incessantly. At about noon the waves became so high that the British ships, already rolling their main decks under, stood out to sea so as to escape the discomforts of an on-shore berth. Nevertheless, as night fell, the searchlights played with unceasing vigilance upon the harbour of Talcahuano.

"Confound those searchlights!" muttered Captain Brookes, then turning to Gerald he exclaimed, "Look here, Mr. Tregarthen, does my compact forbid me the use of the Z-rays? I think not."

Gerald did not know what to reply. This act alone could hardly be termed a belligerent one, and at the same time no permanent damage to _personnel_ or material was likely to ensue.

"I'll risk it," continued the captain, and giving orders to clear deck for general quarters, he made his way to the conning-tower.

One glance at the foaming bar where the water gleamed silvery white under the beams of the concentrated searchlights showed him that the plan was a desperate one. A deviation of half a cable's length to port or starboard would be fatal even to the _Olive Branch_, for no vessel could run aground on those deadly shoals and hope to survive.

Suddenly, as if by the touch of a magic hand, the searchlights vanished, leaving only a black expanse of storm-tossed waters. Captain Brookes had made use of the Z-rays.

Slowly the anchor came home from its muddy bed, the engine-room telegraph signalled full speed ahead, and at her utmost possible speed the _Olive Branch_ dashed towards the bar, every revolution of her propellers bringing her nearer the alert yet mystified British squadron.

She was running the gauntlet. Perils unseen awaited her ahead and on either hand. Another five minutes would decide her fate.

_(Another long instalment of this splendid serial next month.)_