The four made no attempt to move. Half-hoping against hope they waited until the vessel showed above the horizon. A few minutes later they were no longer in doubt.
The Paloma was returning to Boya.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE END OF THE "PALOMA"
"To the shore!" exclaimed Kenneth, breaking into a run.
The others followed, wondering what possessed the lad to make for the water's edge rather than seek shelter in the rugged interior. Even Mr. Heatherington was content to let the leadership of the party rest with his son. Kenneth had done so well up to the present that his father realized the lad had a natural gift for initiative combined with sound judgment.
Kenneth had not made up his mind on the spur of the moment. Already he had worked out a plan—a desperate one that was only to be taken in dire necessity, should the Paloma and her villainous crew put in an appearance before the four Britons got away.
That plan had to be executed now!
What was more, it must succeed entirely. There could be no half measures. Short of absolute achievement the result would recoil with dire consequences upon the instigator and his companions. It was the Rubicon of their adventure.
A quarter of an hour's strenuous exertion, involving climbing and descending precipitous ravines and forcing their way through patches of undergrowth, brought the four to the beach fronting the outer lagoon, and about half a mile to the nor'-east of the channel between the rocks leading to the inner harbour.
"Keep out of sight," exclaimed Kenneth. "Let the palm trunks screen you."
They looked seaward. Already the Paloma had slowed down before attempting to negotiate the intricate and winding passage between the outer reefs. From her foremasthead was displayed a three-flag hoist of signals.
"What does that mean?" asked Kenneth appealing to Captain Gregory.
"Can't say," replied the skipper. "It may be an International Code signal, but without a code-book I'm done. Asking if it's O.K. to come in, I should think."
"I never counted on that," thought Kenneth. "Since that signal will remain unanswered the pirates may smell a rat."
"What are we waiting here for anyway?" asked Peter.
Kenneth, lying flat on the ground and peering along the fairly regular line of palm trees, had found what he was looking for.
"You'll see in half a shake, old son," he replied. "We're going to shift the position of one of the leading marks. See that tarred board? As it now is, they keep in line with yonder rock, and that takes the Paloma through the narrowest part of the channel. If we shift it ten yards—not more—they'll pile the yacht on the reefs."
"Good business!" ejaculated Peter. "My word, Kenneth, you're a terror!"
"Am I?" rejoined his chum. "Come on. There's a lot to be done, and precious little time to do it."
Arriving at the spot where the board was fastened to one of the palm trunks, the four found that the task of shifting the leading mark was easier than they expected. The salt air had rotted the iron fastenings. The board came away at the first wrench.
"How are you going to secure it again?" asked Peter.
The question was a poser. Kenneth had counted upon using the original spikes.
"We'll have to take turns to hold it," he declared. "If you keep behind the trunk and hold the edge of the board they won't spot the difference."
"With a good glass they'd pick up your fingers at two miles distance," said Captain Gregory. "Stick the knife into the back of the board and hang on to that. Five minutes spell for all hands ought to do it."
Preparations were barely completed when the Paloma appeared in sight again, for a projection of the cliff had hidden her from view during one part of her course.
Evidently she had decided to come on notwithstanding the fact that her signals had been ignored. Already she was abreast of the heap of scrap iron that marked the spot where the Talca had piled herself upon the rat-trap-like ledges.
"Mendoza's got some pluck to attempt it on a day like this," observed Peter. "It's blowing fairly hard."
"No one but a fool would try it," declared Gregory. "It's a good thing we didn't get away in the boat. She'd be matchwood by this time."
During the last twenty minutes the hitherto flat calm had given place to a stiff on-shore breeze that could hardly be considered dangerous to a vessel, except when steaming slowly in a narrow channel and with the wind broad on the beam. As it was, the whole expanse of reef was swept with white-crested breakers, which presented a spectacle calculated to cause the greatest anxiety to the most experienced mariner. Yet, in spite of the adverse conditions, the Paloma was coming in.
With her generous top-hamper she was rolling heavily. Now and again she had to be given lee helm to bring her head up to meet the staggering blows from the rollers that swept over the reefs to wind'ard.
At last she successfully passed through the most intricate and dangerous part of the channel. Under ordinary circumstances she would starboard helm and, with the wind astern, make straight for the outer lagoon, keeping the leading marks in line until within a cable's length of the beach.
Confident of having won through, the captain of the Paloma rang down for increased speed. Still wallowing in the following sea the ship swung round and steadied on her course—keeping the rock and the purposely altered leading mark ashore in line.
Breathlessly three of the party hidden in the palm-groves watched the Paloma rushing to her doom. The fourth, who happened to be Kenneth, was unable to watch the scene of destruction. It was his turn to support the decoy board, and resisting an almost overpowering desire to peer round the edge of the woodwork, he stuck gamely to his task, although he found himself wishing that the Paloma would not strike before his spell of duty had expired.
A succession of heavy crashes announced that the pirate vessel had run almost bows-on upon the rocks.
"She's done for!" exclaimed Mr. Heatherington.
Kenneth threw the board to the ground. It had served its purpose. Concealment was no longer necessary.
The impact had broken the back of the comparatively lightly-built yacht. Her bows were high above water. From the foremast the rest of the vessel had already dipped back and disappeared in deep water. Her funnel and mainmast had gone by the board when she struck. Terrific rollers were breaking over her fore deck, sending clouds of spray fifty feet or more into the air.
Of her crew not one was to be seen. Most of the pirates had gone down with the major part of the ship. Those who happened to be for'ard at the time of the impact had been swept overboard by the irresistible force of the waves.
The four remained patrolling the beach for the next two hours in order to render assistance should any of the Paloma's crew contrive to reach the shore alive. Wreckage—in spite of the comparatively small quantity of wood used in the construction of the vessel—drifted to the island, but nothing sufficiently intact to be of service. Even the stoutly-built boats were shattered, either when they were wrenched from the davits or else during their passage across the multiple ledges of breaker-swept coral.
"It's no use hanging on any longer," declared Captain Gregory. "They never had a dog's chance in that sea. A fine craft gone, although she was built foreign; but as for the rascals in her——"
Words failed him.
The others showed no signs of elation. They had gained freedom. Their victims were ruthless pirates who did not hesitate to commit cold-blooded murder; yet there was a kind of sentiment—it could hardly be termed regret—over the tragic end that had overtaken the villains.