The brute was now within half a dozen yards of the swimmer. It began to turn on its back, to make the best use of its triple row of teeth. Asger Holbaek disappeared. So did the shark. There was a violent upheaval of foam—foam tinged with blood.
Twenty yards from the centre of the agitated patch of water, the Dane's head reappeared. He had boldly attacked the shark, using as a weapon one of the jagged ends of the broken chains that were still secured to his wrists. The shark, bleeding profusely from a deep gash nearly thirty inches in length, was in no mind to persist in its endeavours to seize such a formidable prey. It disappeared, leaving a trail of oil and blood to mark its flight.
The Dane was now in shallow water. Finding his feet he waded shorewards, ponderously, slowly, majestically, until he gained the edge of the glistening sands. Then for the first time during his dash for freedom he turned and looked in the direction of the Paloma, and then resumed his way towards the coco-palms.
Suddenly the undergrowth appeared to be alive with practically naked nut-brown natives. Thirty or forty of them rushed towards the white man, but whether with demonstrations of friendship or hostility, Kenneth could not determine. Half-way across the stretch of beach Holbaek held up his hand. The natives gave vent to shouts of welcome, and surrounded by a body-guard of exuberant islanders the Dane disappeared from sight behind the dense scrub.
Almost at the same moment, Lopez, standing on the fo'c'sle gave a shout to attract Mendoza's attention and pointed dead ahead. The lagoon was dotted with the heads of swimmers. Taking full advantage of the diversion caused by their captain's successful dash for liberty, the Kanaka crew of the Svend had slipped quickly over the off-shore side of the Paloma. With praiseworthy discretion they did not make a direct line for the island, but swam parallel to the beach until they were out of pistol-range. Then, and only then, did they change direction and head for the island.
Wild with rage at the Dane's escape, Mendoza went almost mad with anger at the wholesale desertion of the Kanakas. He had set great store by the native crew of the Svend. They would have been invaluable when the time came for diving operations to secure the greatly desired black pearls. So docile had they been during their stay on board the Paloma, that Mendoza and the other mutineers never had any doubts regarding the willingness of the Kanakas to do their bidding.
The mutineer captain shouted an order. Men rushed to the after side of the boiler-casing, fumbled with and wrenched at levers. Down dropped a large portion of the steelwork, revealing a 75 centimetre quick-firing gun with mounting complete, together with a rack containing fifty rounds of light armour-piercing shell.
The secret of the boiler-casing—an attempt to probe which had been responsible for the premature outbreak of the mutiny—was revealed. The Paloma, although classed as a private yacht, was an armed buccaneering craft. Her absent owner, Count Cristoval Xarifa, was doubtless fully acquainted with the fact that the vessel was armed, and had chartered the craft with her original crew, mainly with the idea of kidnapping her charterer, who, judging by the sum he was able to afford for the charter, would be at least a moderately wealthy man.
In point of fact Xarifa, although a titled grandee, dared not show his face in Spain. He had been implicated in an anarchist plot at Barcelona. Financially at a low ebb, he had been an active partner in the "Spanish Prisoner" swindle, until the credulity and cupidity of his intended victims had been countered by a well-organized Press campaign in almost every civilized country on the face of the globe. His next "stunt" was to pose as a patriot, and to raise a sum of money to purchase and equip a war-vessel to assist in the war against the Riffs. He obtained the money, bought the vessel—the Paloma—and promptly left Spain for good. The engagement of an English skipper was part of the game of bluff; while Count Xarifa, although he professed his willingness to charter his craft for pleasure-cruising anywhere, took good care to instruct his agents to decline all offers until he received one that would mean sailing the Paloma to the Pacific. He had particular reasons for choosing the Pacific for the furtherance of his cunning and desperate scheme.
Even in his fury Mendoza had the sense to realize the futility of firing shell at a few wretched Kanakas swimming across a lagoon. He ordered the quick-firer to be loaded and trained on the beach. Then he waited.
The Kanakas were now making straight for the spot where Captain Asger Holbaek had landed. No sharks appeared to attempt to seize the swimmers, possibly because the fugitives were now making a tremendous splash and shouting at the top of their voices. Could Mendoza and his men but understand the native song they would not have felt flattered, for the Kanakas were shouting an impromptu doggerel in which they ridiculed the Spaniards for the way in which they had been utterly fooled.
Hurrying to the bridge Miguel Fe went up to Mendoza, spoke rapidly in a low voice, and pointed first to Mr. Heatherington and his companions and then to the gun.
The mutineer captain shrugged his shoulders—a gesture that indicated he had "let the cat out of the bag". Then, having watched the Kanakas gain the beach and disappear in the scrub, Mendoza gave orders for the gun to be secured and the screens placed in position.
He realized that in the case of the Svend and her captain he had cut rather a sorry figure.
CHAPTER X. MIGUEL FE'S OFFER
"Smart chap that Captain Holbaek," remarked Kenneth, when the two chums regained the seclusion of their cabin. "But, by Jove! I had the wind up when that shark went for him."
"I missed that part," observed Peter.
"What?" exclaimed Kenneth. "You didn't see the Dane tackle the shark? What were you doing then?"
"I was busy."
"About what?" persisted his chum.
Just then Mr. Heatherington rejoined the two lads. Kenneth, unable to account for his chum failing to witness the conflict between the man and the shark, turned to his father.
"Fancy Peter not seeing it," he said. "He told me he was busy."
"So I was," reasserted his chum. "While almost everyone on board had his attention fixed, I took the opportunity of pinching this."
He held up a small but powerful six-chambered revolver and a packet containing twenty-five cartridges.
"Then take care Mendoza doesn't find the thing on you," said Mr. Heatherington. "Where did you find it?"
"It belonged to one of the men who were floored by Captain Holbaek," replied Peter. "Judging by the state of the fellow's head I don't think he'll require a revolver again—unless the use of firearms is permitted in the infernal regions. I would have bagged two more only I thought they would be sure to be missed. One might not. 'Tany rate, I hope it won't. I say, that quick-firer in the boiler-casing looks a bit fishy, doesn't it?"
"It does," agreed Mr. Heatherington. "And it's rather remarkable that Gregory didn't twig it, when he was in command of the vessel. He smelt a rat when it was too late."
"After we had put him on to it," added Kenneth.
"In any case they meant to seize the vessel," said Mr. Heatherington. "Up to now I felt inclined to treat the business lightly. I thought that Mendoza was a bit of a ruffian—in fact I still think so—but that he was only bluffing to try and wrest the secret of the black pearls from us. Now I'm inclined to think that he's not only a ruffian but a black-hearted villain with some desperate purpose in view. He's as mad as anything over Holbaek's escape, and in all probability he'll vent his anger on us."
Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the steward.