The ominous booming of the surf announced that the buccaneers of Boya were not yet roving on the high seas. In the starlight the spectacle of the heaving, tumbling, breaking waters over the chaos of uncharted and for the most part submerged reefs, was an awesome one.
Presently one of the searchlights was trained abeam until it played upon the coco-groves. The Paloma began to swing to starboard under full port helm, but the beam continued to be directed on a particular spot ashore.
"I've got it!" ejaculated Peter. "Look!"
"Not so loud," cautioned Kenneth, "what is it?"
"There's a board fixed to a palm trunk. See it? Evidently that's a mark of some sort. We've been keeping it dead astern for the last half minute."
"You're right, old son," admitted Kenneth. "If we find out nothing else we've learnt something. Hallo, they're reversing engines."
Quickly the Paloma lost way, the second search-light the while frantically sweeping the jungle of jagged rocks to port.
Lopez's directions had not been understood. Mendoza realizing the danger, had promptly taken way off the ship, and had ordered the pilot to be released from his ignominious position and to be brought up to the bridge.
After a seemingly interminable delay, during which the vessel was drifting to leeward and in dangerous proximity to the reefs in that direction, Lopez arrived on the bridge; managed to collect his wits sufficiently to indicate which of the half-tide rocks were the proper leading marks, and once more the Paloma forged ahead.
"We're done this time," confessed Peter. "The blighters have some sort of bearing on this course, but I'm dashed if I can twig it."
"Same here," agreed his chum. "It takes some knowing to make sure which of those chunks of rock are to be kept in line astern. Lopez is some pilot whatever else he might be."
"I wish I had his chances," sighed Peter.
"And what then?"
"I'd put the helm hard over and run the old hooker hard on the rocks," replied young Arkendale. "That would put the lid on Señor Mendoza."
"And ourselves as well, I fancy," said Kenneth. "No, I know a better plan than that."
"What is it?" inquired his chum.
Kenneth told him. Peter agreed whole-heartedly that the scheme was absolutely top-hole.
CHAPTER XVI. A COMPACT OF PIRACY
With the suddenness characteristic of the Tropics, dawn broke just as the Paloma was clear of the reefs of Boya. Speed was increased to fifteen knots, and a course shaped to bring the buccaneering craft to the position indicated by the distressed Talca.
Mendoza was in high spirits. For the present he felt inclined to be tolerant with his insubordinate officer; and when Lopez, now thoroughly aware of the enormity of his offence, apologized profusely and craved forgiveness, Mendoza, with his tongue in his cheek, accepted his assurances of loyalty.
"When we return after capturing the Talca," he added, "I will pilot the Paloma through the channel between the reefs. You will stand by me and correct me if I make an error; but with the information you have imparted, I do not think my navigation will be much at fault."
"Assuredly not, Señor Capitán," replied Lopez, with well-assumed humility. "It is necessary, after all, that someone, other than myself, should know the channel. I might be put out of action, for instance."
"Quite possible," rejoined Mendoza, with brutal candour.
"And so might you be," thought Lopez. "You will be if I see a chance!"
Going to the wireless cabin, Mendoza inquired if there were any reports received concerning the S.S. Talca.
"Wireless her and inform her that she need not send out further S.O.S. appeals," he ordered. "Inform her that the Peruvian S.S. Mendex is coming to her assistance and will tow her into port. Keep in touch with her at intervals and give her our position every half-hour."
Rapidly the Paloma drew near the spot where the Talca was in distress. A look-out man was sent aloft to scan the horizon in case other vessels might be bearing down in response to the S.O.S. signals; but no sign of another craft was to be seen.
"What have you done with the English boys?" demanded Mendoza of Miguel Fe. "To what action station have you posted them?"
"They refused to fight," replied the second in command. "I could see that it was useless to compel them to do so—or even to induce them to handle the ammunition. I believe they would warn the Talca if they had the slightest opportunity; so I sent them to the stokehold."
"I'll send them to a hotter place than that before I've done with them," remarked the captain angrily. "Can't you realize, Miguel, that if we compromise them we'll have a tremendous lever to use against that mule-headed Heatherington. Bring them along——"
Before Mendoza could complete his orders, the look-out reported a sail on the port bow, adding that the vessel appeared to be a steamer, but was not making way.
"She's the Talca!" ejaculated Mendoza. "All hands to stations!"
In order to avoid suspicion, for a supposed tramp would not be expected to do fifteen knots, speed was reduced to a mere eight. Peruvian colours were then hoisted and the International Code Signal XYP, signifying: "Have a tow-line ready", was toggled to the halliards, to be hoisted when within visual signalling distance. Fenders were put out ostensibly to mitigate damage, should the vessels touch during the preparations for taking in tow. Actually they were for a very different purpose.
A number of the crew were stationed in conspicuous positions, as if to undertake the task of bringing the towing hawsers to the bitts; but by far the greater portion of the hands lurked under the lee of the dummy boiler-casing, where the quick-firer with its gun's crew waited its opportunity should the intended prize offer a strenuous resistance.
It was not Mendoza's desire to force a fight. His crew were none too numerous to risk further losses. The affair on the beach at Talai had been a lesson. He reckoned on taking the Chilean vessel completely by surprise, and scoring an easy and practically bloodless victory. If so, well and good; if not, he would sheer off and pump shell after shell into the Talca's bridge and upperworks until she surrendered.
The two craft were now but half a cable's length apart, when the Paloma gave three blasts on her syren to indicate that her engines were going full astern. Still carrying way she ranged up alongside the Talca with the apparent idea of getting a towing hawser passed from the Chilean vessel's bow to her quarter.
Suddenly, above the hiss of steam, came the shrill blast of a whistle blown three times in rapid succession. Mendoza's pre-arranged signal to board was two blasts. His men, puzzled by the three, became irresolute. Some of them sprang from their place of concealment, and with brandished knives and flourished revolvers sprang for the ship's side to find that a good ten feet separated them from their would-be prize. The prospect of leaping short and tumbling into the sea to be either crushed between the two hulls or to be devoured by sharks acted as an effectual cold douche to their ardour.