Meanwhile, the launch's engine had been started. The mechanic, ignoring Mendoza's frantic appeals to back, kept the reverse gear in the neutral position, thus enabling the whaler on her starboard side to remain with her forefoot grounding on the sand.
The two hands told off by Lopez jumped ashore, and made their way to the spot where one of the Paloma's shells had burst with devastating results. It took them some time to make their selection, for those of the natives who were able to drag themselves away had done so. Those who were unable to do so were for the most part too badly wounded to be of use.
Finally the two mutineers discovered a native whose injuries consisted of a badly lacerated leg, portions of shrapnel having torn the tendons and prevented him from making good his escape.
There was no consideration for their prisoner on the part of his captors. They dragged him by his arms down to the boats. The jolting must have given him excruciating pain, but the native preserved a stoical demeanour and hardly a groan escaped from him.
"He'll do," commanded Lopez, giving the prisoner a casual glance. "Secure his arms in case he gives trouble, and drop him on the bottom boards. All ready? Easy astern, then."
The motor-launch backed away from the beach, towing the whalers with their complement of groaning, cursing and dejected mutineers. It was not until the boats were nearly alongside the Paloma that Mendoza showed signs of reasserting his authority.
"Hoist up and turn-in the boats, Miguel," he ordered addressing his second in command. "We'll wait until to-morrow before we start and search for the pearls."
"Will it be safe to do so with the natives hostile to us?" asked Miguel Fe. "The quick-firer filled them with terror; but that won't prevent them interfering with the diving operations if they've sense enough to avoid crowding together in the open. Besides, where are our native divers? That is not one, I hope?"
Mendoza glanced in the direction of Miguel Fe's outstretched arm, and noticed for the first time with any degree of comprehension the wounded islander.
"No, sir," replied Lopez.
"Then why have you brought him off to the ship?" demanded the mutineer captain.
"I have a plan," was the reply. "If we can discuss it between ourselves—you, Miguel, and me—I think it ought to settle the problem of how to settle with the natives. Then we can get to work with the pearls without being interrupted."
In the captain's cabin, Lopez unfolded his scheme. He began by pointing out that up to the present all attempts to gain possession of the secret of the pearl beds were fruitless. Heatherington had refused either to be frightened or to be cajoled into revealing the position of the beds; they could not search for them without native divers; even if any were available, there would be considerable risk of attack on the part of the inhabitants of Talai, especially as they appeared to be guided by the gigantic Dane, Holbaek. Meanwhile, Lopez pointed out, the crew of the Paloma were becoming discouraged. They had not bargained for wounds and disappointments. They had anticipated a sort of get-rich-quick business, with very little risk and every chance of making good their escape. And coal was running short. Unless the Paloma could rebunker within the next few days she would be useless to remove the treasure even if it were located.
Mendoza and Miguel Fe reluctantly admitted the truth of Lopez's assertions.
"But what, then, is your plan?" asked Mendoza. "What has the wounded native to do with it?"
Lopez hesitated. An unscrupulous young villain, even he had his doubts as to how his superior officer would regard his suggestion.
"I am waiting," said Mendoza.
"Señor, José Nundico is dead," announced Lopez.
"That I know," rejoined the mutineer captain with a shudder, "and I have no wish to be reminded of it. Also I fail to see what connection there is between Nundico and the wounded savage."
"It is proposed to throw the corpse of José Nundico overboard," continued Lopez. "My suggestion is that the body be placed in the dory we took from the Svend and that the native be sent away to bear the corpse of José company. The savage will to a certainty make for the shore; the Kanakas will recognize the dory and run to take possession of it. You know how smallpox decimates the South Sea Islanders. In a month's time Talai will be deserted. Those of the inhabitants who have not succumbed to the disease will have taken to their canoes, and made for one of the islands to the west'ard. Then we shall have an uninterrupted opportunity to search for the pearls."
"But what will happen to us, with Talai teeming with smallpox?" asked Mendoza dubiously.
He had not the faintest hesitation to put Lopez's scheme into execution, but for the possible consequences that might with poetic justice recoil on him.
"There will be no risk—or at least not so much as we are running at present with a bad case of the disease on board," replied Lopez. "We need not land: we can conduct all our operations from the boats and give the beach a wide berth."
"That's all very well," interposed Miguel Fe, who had hitherto been a silent listener to the conversation, "but what are we to do during the month's wait? The men will be out of hand; we're short of fuel, and unless we are uncommonly fortunate we are not likely to obtain any. Isn't that so, Capitán Mendoza?"
The Spaniard addressed nodded moodily.
"There's no reason why we shouldn't help ourselves from any vessel we fall in with," resumed Lopez. "I know of an island less than eighty miles to the south-east—we can make it easily with the coal still in our bunkers—where we can be as snug as you please. It's an ideal hiding-place. No vessel would dream of approaching it, because of the reefs and the barren aspect of the island. I was there some years ago, when I was serving on board a Chilean collier."
"I thought you said no vessel would risk making the island?" interrupted Miguel Fe, eagerly seizing at the chance to catch his rival tripping.
"Yes, but you see we were on special charter," explained Lopez. "We were taking a cargo of coal to the island to rebunker the German cruisers from Kiau-Chau. We waited there a week or more but they didn't arrive. Afterwards we learnt that they were in danger of being trapped by a Japanese squadron; they went south and round the Horn, and were finally destroyed by the British off the Falklands."
"So you took the coal back," remarked Mendoza.
"No, Señor Capitán, we did not," declared Lopez. "Our instructions were to remain there for a definite period. If, at the end of that time, the German cruisers did not appear, the cargo was to be sent ashore to await their coming. We landed it in the ship's boats and by means of rafts—and a horrible, back-breaking job it was, I well remember."
"And the coal should still be there?" asked Mendoza.
"It should be," replied Lopez.
"You know the approach?"
"I could take the Paloma in with safety," asserted Lopez confidently. "She draws one and a half fathoms less than the Monoz when carrying a full cargo of coal."
"Good!" commented Mendoza. "Fetch me the chart, Miguel. What is the name of the island?"
By this time Mendoza's mercurial temperament had risen from zero to blood-heat. Already his lively imagination was figuratively sweeping him off his feet.