Kenneth and Peter worked with the rest. They could not well do otherwise, since refusal meant punishment and stoppage of their none too plentiful and unappetizing fare. They were kept at it so hard and continuously that they had little opportunity to study the nature of their surroundings.
During the extreme heat of the day work was suspended, the Spaniards indulging in their customary siesta. With blistered hands and aching backs the chums were only too glad to follow the men's example. Late in the afternoon work was resumed and maintained at high pressure till sunset. This went on for three days before the rebunkering of the Paloma was completed.
At the same time men were told off to prepare one of the empty storehouses as quarters for the prisoners, the building being surrounded by a high fence of barbed wire. When the task was finished to Mendoza's satisfaction, Mr. Heatherington and Captain Gregory were conveyed ashore.
Kenneth saw his father approaching. Dropping his sack of coal he hurried towards him, heedless of the angry shouts of the bos'n, who was acting as overseer of the coaling-party.
"What are they going to do with you, Pater?" asked his son anxiously.
"I haven't the faintest idea," replied Mr. Heatherington. "Mendoza has been breathing out threatenings and slaughter, but as usual he's got precious little change out of me. Take care of yourself, my lad, as well as you can. I'll be——Look out, Kenneth!"
The lad turned at the warning. Bounding towards him was the bos'n, brandishing a heavy stick and shouting excitedly in Spanish. Up went the stick to deliver a ferocious blow. Kenneth realized that the fellow meant mischief. He stood his ground until the blow was almost on the point of falling upon his shoulder. Then, side-stepping with the agility of a matador, Kenneth let the stick swish through the air within an inch of his arm.
With a snarl the Spaniard made ready to repeat the blow. The lad deliberately retreated a couple of paces, the bos'n pressing him hard. Then, without the flicker of an eyelid to denote his purpose, Kenneth rushed in, planted the fellow a straight right on the point of the chin and sent him sprawling on the ground.
The guards escorting Mr. Heatherington stood stock-still with astonishment. They had never seen a man knocked clean off his feet by a blow with a fist. A knife-thrust was more in their line to settle an argument. They made no effort to molest the bos'n's victor, possibly because they had no liking for the man with his hectoring methods.
"I'll come along with you, Pater," said Kenneth quietly. "Peter's up there."
The party moved on, Kenneth walking between his father and Captain Gregory, the Spaniards forming their escort offering no objection.
"How is young Arkendale sticking it?" inquired Mr. Heatherington. "I feel sorry for him—inviting him to get mixed up in this business."
"He's all right, so far," replied Kenneth. "Lopez has promised to make the pair of us into pirates or something of that sort. He hasn't done so yet, and he never will. Hallo, there's Peter."
Arkendale dropped his spade and came to meet them. Like the rest of the working-party he was perspiring profusely and covered with coal-dust. He made an attempt to force a cheerful smile, but the result was anything but a success.
More mutineers, desisting from their labours, strolled up and joined the armed guard, but no attempt was made to interrupt the conversation between the captives. Kenneth's drastic resentment of the bos'n's treatment had created a favourable opinion of him amongst the lawless mob. They might have admired the youth's pluck: they certainly were glad that the bos'n had been floored.
Suddenly the guard stiffened. The man in charge of the party motioned to the two chums to stand back, and to Mr. Heatherington and Captain Gregory that they should resume their progress. The reason was soon apparent. Mendoza had just come ashore.
Saying a hasty good-bye, Peter picked up his burden and made towards the pier, Kenneth walking by his side until he came to the place where he had deposited his load of coal.
"Stop!" ordered Mendoza, addressing Kenneth. "What do you mean by knocking down the bos'n?"
"He threatened me with a stick and I had to defend myself," declared the lad.
"That is no excuse," said the mutineer captain.
"Isn't it?" retorted Kenneth. "What would you have done in the circumstances? The attack was unprovoked, and I merely used my fist against a man with a cudgel."
Mendoza nodded.
"So?" he ejaculated. "Well, we will see how you can fight with and not against us. For the present I say no more."
"What does he mean, I wonder?" remarked Kenneth, after the mutineer captain had passed out of earshot. "Is it a threat?"
"I rather fancy he thinks he'll make pirates of us," suggested Peter. "If he does he'll find out his mistake. Look here, old son; what's to prevent us doing a bunk? The island isn't very big, but it's honey-combed with hiding-places."
"Might," admitted Kenneth dubiously. "But what then? We can't get away from the place. We've no food, unless we can exist on coco-nuts. And if the blighters didn't find us they'd make it doubly hot for my father and Gregory. 'Tany rate the idea's worth considering. We'll have to find out how the land lies."
THE BOSUN IS SURPRISED—Page 134
But the opportunity was not yet; for on the following day the chums were not allowed to land. They were kept hard at work on board, trimming the coal in the bunkers, under the orders of a swarthy, ill-tempered individual, who held the rank corresponding to that of chief stoker in the British Navy.
There was no doubt about it: Mendoza was "hustling some". The Paloma was being prepared for sea at high pressure. The hands were regularly drilled at small-arms practice and with the quick-firer. Each man had his battle-station, most of them being out of sight until the moment came for the vessel to reveal herself as a modern corsair. Those of the crew who were not sufficiently recovered of their injuries received at Talai were sent ashore to undertake light duties, such as providing guards for the prisoners. Day and night operators were listening-in on the Paloma's wireless, endeavouring to intercept messages from shipping in the vicinity that might give a clue to a possible prize. With coal in abundance the vessel could now bank fires ready to work up to forced draught as soon as it was necessary to weigh and proceed.
At three in the morning, a week after the Paloma's arrival at Boya, Mendoza was roused from his sleep by the news that a message had been intercepted from the S.S. Talca of Valparaiso, homeward bound from Nagasaki with a general cargo. She had taken a cargo of nitrates to Japan, this being her maiden voyage. According to the wireless message, which gave her position, the S.S. Talca had broken her tail-shaft, and was appealing for aid in the form of a tow into the nearest port, where the requisite repairs could be effected.
Leaping from his bunk, Mendoza began to dress hurriedly. The buccaneers of Boya were about to fall upon their unsuspecting prey.
CHAPTER XV. COMPULSORY PILOTAGE
According to the latitude and longitude reported by the Talca's wireless, the distressed vessel was only eighty miles from Boya—little more than five hours hard steaming. During that time the call might be answered by other ships in the vicinity; but up to the present the Paloma's operator had not picked up any such message. So far everything was in the buccaneers' favour.