VAGABOND VOYAGE

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 June 1938, Page 12

VAGABOND VOYAGE

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

ALROY WEST

(Author of “Stratosphere Express”)

CHAPTER VIII. Gallop complained that it was taking a long time for the captain to find a safe anchorage in order that the necessary repairs could be done to the low pressure cylinder. His forcasts of what would happen became more and more gloomy as watch succeed watch and the trawler still kept on her way. There was not a great deal to occupy Crockett or Howe, and they began to grumble. Gordon was kept busier because he was learning all about his duties in the engine-room. Peter could tell that Wicks was becoming anxious. So far as food was concerned there was nothing to worry about, but water was becoming rather scarce and there was not sufficient to last through the long portion of the voyage. He set a course nearer to the land and spent most of his time on the bridge. He appeared to be able to dispense with sleep. “Gallop’s nursing his engines far too much,” Wicks complained. “It isn’t making it any easier. But it’s no good talking to him about it. He always was obstinate.” The coast-line was monotonously flat, with the vague shadow of higher ground further inland. The beach was marked by a thin white line of surf. They passed within two cables of the wreck of a Russian tramp steamer. It was tilted over on the rocks and had been badly battered. The sun was blistering the paint on her sides. Wicks stared at it. “She hasn’t been there all that time,” he said slowly. “Probably came ashore during that storm which we experienced in the Bay,” Peter suggested. “Maybe. Doesn’t seem to be anybody aboard her.” “What about lowering the dinghy and having a look?” Wicks thought for a minute and then shook his head. “It’s not worth the trouble,” he decided. “It’s a nuisance getting the boat back on board again. Apart from that, there’s the risk of getting it stove in on a submerged rock. You can depend on it that the crew of that ship were either washed overboard or else got away in the boats. Both are missing as far as I can tell.” “We can keep a watch as we go along the coast,” Peter said; and was not contradicted. “We must watch the coast in any case,” the captain reminded him. “Gallop is getting more impatient than ever.” Shortly afternoon they sighted a possible anchorage and Wicks took the wheel from Drew. “Get Crockett forward with the lead,” he instructed. “You’d better be with him and check the results. We don’t want to finish up like that Russian ship.” Peter hurried to the bows and the trawler gradually nosed her way towards the shore and up a narrow inlet. At last the anchor was dropped and Wicks came from the bridge. He went to the engine-room to tell Gallop that he could get on the with the repairs. “How long with it take you?” he wanted to know. i Gallop shrugged his enormous shoulders. “Best part of a day,” he announced. “And I want some sleep before I do it.” “Naturally,” Wicks agreed, more for the sake of peace than anything else. Peter, left alone on the deck, gazed at the land thoughtfully. It didn’t look inviting. There was, as far as the eye could see on either hand, a sand belt. Looking inland, at a distance of between two and three miles of the shore, were the dunes. Away in the northern distance, little more than vague purplish shadows, were the mountains. Truly an uninviting spectacle. Peter, however, was not contemplating trying to penetrate into the interior. He knew that there was only a dreary expanse of sand which stretched for mile after mile. There was no help to be found from that source. Far to the south was Cape Blanco and the French territory. A journey ' that far was out of the question. It was little better than making northwards for the mountains of the Anti Atlas chain. Little help was to be expected from any of the Spanish Legion. Indeed, he doubted if the normal routine was being mantained. Apart from that, it would not be easy to find an outpost. There was a far better chance of escape in the shape of the Russian steamer. Peter calculated that she was lying about twelve miles along the coast. He had noticed that she was equipped with wireless and his scheme was to get away from the trawler, make his way along the coast, swim out to the steamer and try to get her wireless working in order to send out a broadcast for assistance. It was a desperate venture but very little less perilous than Wicks scheme of taking , the trawler across the Atlantic. He hoped to be able to obtain some . provisions and to equip himself as well as possible before making the , attempt. 1

Captain Wicks joined him as he was considering these things and making provisional plans. “Desolate place, isn’t it?" Wicks asked. Peter nodded his head. “It’s almost impossible to believe that people live here,’ he declared. He realized that he must make Wicks think that he had no intention of trying to get away.

“People live almost everywhere,” Wicks reminded him. “Perhaps the greatest wonder is how they manage to live all crowded together in a city. That isn’t natural, you know. It’s part of the artificial development which we call civilization.” Drew smiled.

“Evidently town life doesn’t appeal to you,” he commented. “Yes it does. I’m like everybody else. Why do thing I’m taking this goldenly to have a good time and to give myself a chance of leaning back and taking life easily. But I really came along to point out to that travelling is not exactly a healthy pastime along this coast. The people who do live in these parts have some very nasty ideas of hospitality. "I’ve heard a good many tales from some of my friends —and most of them were pretty grim.- The Arabs frequently leave mutilated bodies lying on sand so that others can get a better idea of what will probably happen to them. “Maybe you’ll bear that in mind, Mr Drew. If you do leave the ship I shall feel that it is my duty to follow you and bring you back. I shouldn’t like to come across your body somewhere among the sand dunes —especially if the Arabs had been decorating it.” “Bear in mind what I’ve told you. anyway.” “I’ll do that,” Peter told him. The peril of falling in with Arabs, however, made no difference to his determination to escape from the trawler. He knew that Wicks would have no compunction about murdering him once the voyage was drawing to a close and his services were no longer required. On the other hand. Gallop was just as big a villain, and would treat him the same once they managed to get ashore. After a time Peter went down to his cabin. The dinghy was being launched and the men were going ashore. Gallop, glad of the rest, was lying in his bunk. He opened one eye sleepily as Peter entered the tiny cabin.

“Don’t you feel like going ashore?” Peter asked. The engineer shook his head. •“I feel like sleeping,” he grunted. “That’s all I want.” Realizing that it was imposible to do anything so long as Gallop remained in the cabin, Peter went back on deck. “Do you feel like stretching your legs ashore?” Wicks asked him. He shook his head. “I feel a bit fagged,” he explained. “I’d prefer to stay on deck if it’s all the same to you, sir.” Captain Wicks nodded curtly. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I’m going to see if there is any sign of water anywhere. I very much doubt it, all the same. However the search will keep the men quiet.” Peter watched the dinghy reach the shore, and saw Howe jump out to pull it up the beach. For a few minutes the men capered about. Then, with Wicks in charge, they set off for the dunes. “Fat lot of good looking for water there,” Peter thought. Then his eyes narrowed It was far more likely that Wicks was plotting some mischief or other. He hurried to his cabin and roused Gallop. “What do you want?” the engineer demanded. Peter explained, and Gallop slipped from his bunk. “He’s up to something right enough,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s just as well you told me. What about leaving them on shore. We could get the ship out of this, couldn’t we?” “I shouldn’t like to try it,” Peter said. “You’d have to be down below, and I couldn’t very well be steering and heaving the lead. It’s a tricky inlet. I’m very much afraid that we should only manage to run her aground. Gallop nodded his head.

“It was only an idea which flashed into my mind,” he confessed. “Now that I’ve had a chance of thinking it over, I can quite see that we couldn’t manage it. For one thing, the engine wouldn’t stand much more, and we’re still some distance from a place where we could slip off with the gold.” “A considerable distance,” Peter remarked drily. “It would’t be so far if you would consider handing it over and getting the reward. It should be fairly substantial.” Gallop shook his head. “Nothing doing,” he said firmly. “I want a good share. To be exact. I want half.” He stretched himself. “What about you swimming ashore and bringing the dinghy back? Then you can take me and we can have a look at those sand dunes and find out just what little game is attracting the dear captain at the moment. He’s a changeable cuss!”

Peter did some quick' thinking. “It wouldn’t do for us both to go ashore,” he pointed out. “Suppose Wicks returned another way and missed us. He’d realize that we had trailed off on our own and might feel tempted to leave us behind."

Gallop scratched his neck. “I’m not so sure about that," he said. "There’s the engine to be overhauled." “Couldn’t Gordon do it? Or is he really ignorant about such matters?” Gallop’s eyes almost closed. He clenched his mighty fists. “If that pasty-faced apology for a man is stringing me I’ll strangle him,” ne said between his teeth. Then he shook his head. “He’s not much good," he announced. “I’m sure of that. But Wicks might risk it. After all, he has to pay me a pretty good share. He’d be pretty confident that there wouldn’t be risk so far as leaving us behind is concerned. But he couldn’t get across without me." He shook his head again. Peter made one more effort. “He might be pretty efficient with sail," he suggested. Gallop whistled. “I didn't think of that,” he said quickly. “It would be possible to rig up a sail or two He’s a wizard with sail, is the captain. Owned a schooner at one time. She was pretty fast, too. He certainly knew how to get everything he wanted out of her. Maybe you're right. Can you slip ashore

and get that dinghy? You’ll have to stay on board the ship until I get back.”

He took a step forward and grasped Peter by the shoulders. “I’m going to trust you.” he announced. “You’re going to get the boat and bring it for me. Then you’ll row it to the shore with me, and bring it back to the ship afterwards. It does not matter if Wicks does turn up, you’ll keep the boat here until I arrive on the shore. Get the idea?” Peter nodded his head. “I understand,” he said slowly. “And I’ll follow out your directions.” “That’s all right," said Gallop. “It might not arouse so much suspicion if I stay in the dinghy and try my hand at fishing,” Peter suggested. “It would be a good plan,” the engineer agreed. They put the scheme into action. Peter slipped off his clothes and dived over the side. He swam to the dinghy, launched it and rowed back to the trawler. Gallop helped him aboard. He quickly dressed, slipped down to his cabin —ostensibly for his pipe and tobacco —and then took his place in the thwarts.

As soon as the dinghy reached shallow water, Gallop jumped over the prow and splashed his way ashore. “I’ll find out what little game Wicks is playing,” were his last words before making for the dunes.

Peter waited until the engineer was out of sight, and then helped himself to some things which were in the locker. He filled the flask he had obtained from his cabin from the small keg of water; and also had a refreshing drink. Then he pulled out the plugs, put them in his pocket, and jumped out of the boat, As the water began to pour in he pushed it out into deep water. Then, after a quick glance about him, he set off to the north in the direction of the place when the Russian steamer had been wrecked.

He was elated at the success of his plan. It was very probable that Wicks had taken the hands ashore in order to discuss something with them And that something was quite likely to have reference to the engineer. Wicks obviously would like to cut down the number of people who had a share in the gold. Nevertheless, it was certain that he would not attempt any drastic action until the crossing had been made. Gallop was too good a man to be dispensed with, and should have realized that. His vulnerable point, however, was his distrust of the captain. Peter felt that he had played on that quite well.

It was tiring plodding through the loose sand, and he started to bear towards the dunes in the hope of finding firmer ground. He wondered what Wicks would do when he returned to the ship. He would certainly be furious about losing the dinghy. Peter had taken the precaution of putting the spare plugs in his pocket. The crew would have to drag the boat —quite a heavy task—and then cut some new plugs. It would certainly hold them up, because Wicks would not feel like leaving the dinghy under water any longer than he could help.

Wicks might take it for granted that his mate would be killed by Arabs, or die of starvation. But on the other hand he might decide that it was far too risky leaving things in the air. He might want to make a further call, either at the Canary Islands, or more probably. at St Louis on the way to Cape Verd. He would not be too comfortable if there was the slightest chance that his mate had been able to get into touch with the authorities. It was always possible to encounter an outpost of the Foreign Legion. So Peter- felt certain that Wicks would make some sort of an attempt at pursuit.

The walk to the dunes was exquisite agony. The sand was too soft so that his feet sank down at every step, and the burden of the heat was almost intolerable. At last, however, he came to the dunes and found that the ground was much firmer. He had a small compass with him, and carefully took his bearings before penetrating this region.

Hour after hour seemed to go past as he wound about at the base of the dunes. After a time he had a rest, munched a biscuit and drank a little water. This refreshed him and he continue on his way. There was never the slightest indication of pursuit, and at last he began to feel more confident of his ability to reach the Russian steamer.

He was taking a considerable risk, but he felt that it was much to be preferred to the almost certain risk of being murdered by Wicks at the end of the voyage. He felt pretty sure that even if a pursuit of the trawler was started, Wicks would manage to slip away. Some of the things Gallop had told him helped to give him this impression.

By the time he took his second rest, Peter calculated that he had covered about five of the 12 miles to the wreck.

There was some slight comfort in the thought that this was, if anything a conservative estimate. He moved onwards again, and a curve in the coast brought him within sight of the sea once more. It was a welcome sight, if only for confirmation that he was going in the right direction. He wasted a few minutes in order to climb a dune and look for any sign of either trawler or wreck. It was impossible to see either of them. Annoyed with himself for losing time in this way, he moved on at a slightly increased pace.

It was oppressively hot and Peter felt that he had been walking through a perpetual oven. After a time he came to a low hill and sat down under the shadow cast by one of the boulders. He took another sip of water from his precious supply and then rested, glad to be out of the glare of the sun. Evidently he dozed through sheer fatigue, for he awakened with a start. His first thought was to jump up and run, because he heard sound of talking. Then he realized that this would be futile, only serving to attract attention.

He crouched against the boulder and waited. Once his head had cleared from the effects of sleep he knew that it could not be Wicks and his party, because the sounds were coming from the wrong direction.

Suddenly a camel came into sight followed by another, and then a third. They were being led by Arabs clad in in dirty garments. Five more Arabs followed the baggage camels. Peter noticed that they carried rifles. After them came a few wretched blacks huddled together and with their hands fastened behind their backs. Two Arabs brought up in the rear, and had another captive between them. Peter’s first though was one of relief that he had not been detected. Then he was seized with a sudden fury, for the last prisoner was a girl—and a European girl! Even as he watched, she stumbled and was jerked cruelly to her feet by her captors. (To Be Continued)