"You didn't help me when I was strung across that d.a.m.ned spar and I'm not going to help you," he said. "Still," he added, "I'll give you a bit of advice. When the time comes for you to man the guns and start blazing away at some ship or other, stand fast. Let the swivel-eyed blighter do his own murdering."

"That's all right," growled a voice, "but 'e'll start doin' it on us."

"Yes, and you'll ask his kind permission to take off your jumpers so's he can cut your throats easier," sneered Skelt.

"No, by G.o.d, we won't!" exclaimed someone truculently.

The new note of defiance was taken up. It was one thing to face the terrible skipper in his cabin, but quite another to swear to disobey his orders, when there was no immediate prospect of those orders being given. Their courage went up by leaps and bounds, and they discussed plans for defying the Captain's commands--in whispers.

"That's the right spirit," said Skelt encouragingly. "This skipper may be a holy terror, but he can't murder us all if we stick together. Just show him that you don't mean to put your necks in the hangman's rope for his sake, and he'll soon calm down, I'll swear. I know them bucko skippers: all froth and fury so long as they think you're afraid of 'em; but once they see you don't care a Dago's d.a.m.n for all their bullying, they become as meek as lambs. Oh, I know 'em! Sailed with one----"

The ex-boatswain's reminiscence was cut short by the sound of a whistle on deck. Next moment the foc'sle door was flung open and the second-mate put his head in.

"To your stations, every man!" he shouted. "Uncover the guns and stand by for orders!"

There was a rush from the foc'sle, and the first man to take his station and start peeling the tarpaulins off the machine-gun, was the fiery and defiant Jasper Skelt.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PRIZE

A slight haze hung over the water, so that sea and sky were merged in a film of brooding grey. Through this, looking strangely flimsy and unreal by reason of the mist, could be seen a large cargo-steamer of about five thousand tons. She was steaming in the opposite direction to the _Hawk_ at something like ten knots, and from her triatic stay fluttered a hoist of signal-flags indicating the question: "What ship are you?"

"What shall I answer, sir?" inquired Mr. d.y.k.es of Calamity.

"'British steamer _Hawk_. Singapore for London.'"

The signal was hoisted and the reply came: "British steamer _Ann_, Rio for Hongkong." At the same time the red ensign was hoisted at the stern.

"You say that when you first saw her she was flying the German flag?"

Calamity inquired of Mr. d.y.k.es.

"Yes, sir. I think she must have just pa.s.sed another German ship, for the ensign was being hauled down when I sighted her."

"H'm, she was German a few minutes ago; now she's British. Signal her to stop, Mr. d.y.k.es."

The signal was duly hoisted, but the steamer paid no attention and proceeded on her course, while from her funnel arose a thick cloud of black smoke, showing that the stokers were firing up. Although the skipper of the _Ann_ might resent being called upon to stop by what looked like another merchant vessel, this sudden attempt to accelerate speed, coupled with an unusual freedom in the use of national flags, was suspicious to say the least of it.

"Put a shot through her funnel, Mr. d.y.k.es," said Calamity.

With his own hands, the mate sighted the quick-firer on the bridge and then nodded to the boatswain, who was also chief gunner. Next moment a sheet of flame leapt from the muzzle, there was a terrific roar, and a sh.e.l.l struck, not the _Ann's_ funnel, but the supporting guys and pa.s.sed through a ventilating cowl above the engine-room. Despite this unequivocal hint, the steamer did not stop, and the foam under her stern showed that she was putting on speed.

"Aim for the chart-room and make a better shot of it," said Calamity.

Mr. d.y.k.es, greatly chagrined at his first shot having gone wide of its mark, again sighted the gun. Meanwhile the Captain was bringing round the _Hawk_ in the arc of a circle to get her in the wake of the retreating steamer.

Bang!

This time the mate had better luck, his second shot smashing through the chart-room and completely wrecking it.

"That ought to bring them to reason," he remarked complacently.

It did. Before the thin veil of smoke had drifted away a man was seen on the _Ann's_ stern, frantically calling up the _Hawk_ in the semaph.o.r.e code. A man on the privateer's bridge answered and then the other started to flap his flags about.

"Don't fire, stopping," read the message.

The foam under the stranger's stern was subsiding and an arrow of white steam shot into the air out of her exhaust-pipe. Already the distance between the two vessels was rapidly diminishing and soon they were within hailing distance. The skipper of the _Ann_ was the first to avail himself of this, for, making a funnel of his hands, he demanded to know what the sanguinary blazes was meant by this hold-up.

"I demand to see your papers," bellowed Calamity.

The other appeared to execute a sort of complicated war-dance on the bridge, wildly waving his clenched fists above his head. No words came for a second or more, and then a burst of raw, pungent, and kaleidoscopic profanity hurtled across the intervening s.p.a.ce, evoking by its wonderful variety the admiration even of the _Hawk's_ crew.

"Blimey!" murmured Smith in an awed tone, "it's a treat to 'ear a bloke handle cuss-words like that."

Even Mr. d.y.k.es, who rather prided himself on his mastery of the refreshing art of invective, was moved to wonder. Indeed, he made a mental note of several vituperative combinations whose force and originality impressed him.

When, at last, the master of the _Ann_ paused, presumably for want of breath, the crew of the _Hawk_ looked expectantly towards Calamity.

Would he be able to rise to the occasion and wither his opponent by a scorching blast of even deadlier profanity, or would he humiliate them by using the commonplace swear-words of everyday life? He did neither.

"I'm going to board you!" he shouted. "Make one attempt to hinder me and you go to the bottom."

His words, backed by the guns which were trained on the _Ann_, brought an immediate reply:

"Come aboard if you must, but for the love of G.o.d don't sink me."

"Fizzled out like a damp squib," muttered Smith.

"I guess he's played his long suit," remarked the mate, who also felt disappointed at the ign.o.ble collapse of the _Ann's_ skipper after such brilliant promise.

A boat was quickly lowered from the _Hawk_, and the Captain, before getting into it, gave Mr. d.y.k.es certain instructions.

"And remember," he added, "if you see any sign of trickery put a shot under her water-line amidships."

"Very good, sir," answered the mate.

A few minutes afterwards Calamity had reached the deck of the _Ann_, where he was met by the Captain and the first mate.

"I demand an explanation of this outrage!" bl.u.s.tered the former. "Are you aware that you are committing piracy? that----"

Calamity cut him short.

"I know perfectly well what I'm doing, or I shouldn't be here. Your papers, Captain."

"By what right do you ask for my papers?" demanded the other, who showed signs of again becoming truculent.