The Power that kept an expensive steam–patrol moving up and down those waters (they had dodged the two regular ships of the station with an ease that bred contempt) had newly brought up a third and a fourteen–knot boat with a clean bottom to help the work; and that was why the Haliotis, driving hard from the east to the west, found herself at daylight in such a position that she could not help seeing an arrangement of four flags, a mile and a half behind, which read: "Heave to, or take the consequences!"
She had her choice, and she took it. The end came when, presuming on her lighter draught, she tried to draw away northward over a friendly shoal. The shell that arrived by way of the Chief Engineer's cabin was some five inches in diameter, with a practice, not a bursting, charge. It had been intended to cross her bows, and that was why it knocked the framed portrait of the Chief Engineer's wife—and she was a very pretty girl—on to the floor, splintered his wash–hand stand, crossed the alleyway into the engine–room, and striking on a grating, dropped directly in front of the forward engine, where it burst, neatly fracturing both the bolts that held the connecting–rod to the forward crank.
What follows is worth consideration. The forward engine had no more work to do. Its released piston–rod, therefore, drove up fiercely, with nothing to check it, and started most of the nuts of the cylinder–cover. It came down again, the full weight of the steam behind it, and the foot of the disconnected connecting–rod, useless as the leg of a man with a sprained ankle, flung out to the right and struck the starboard, or right–hand, cast–iron supporting–column of the forward engine, cracking it clean through about six inches above the base, and wedging the upper portion outwards three inches towards the ship's side. There the connecting–rod jammed. Meantime, the after–engine, being as yet unembarrassed, went on with its work, and in so doing brought round at its next revolution the crank of the forward engine, which smote the already jammed connecting–rod, bending it and therewith the piston–rod cross–head—the big cross–piece that slides up and down so smoothly.
The cross–head jammed sideways in the guides, and, in addition to putting further pressure on the already broken starboard supporting–column, cracked the port, or left–hand, supporting–column in two or three places. There being nothing more that could be made to move, the engines brought up, all standing, with a hiccup that seemed to lift the Haliotis a foot out of the water; and the engine–room staff, opening every steam outlet that they could find in the confusion, arrived on deck somewhat scalded, but calm. There was a sound below of things happening—a rushing, clicking, purring, grunting, rattling noise that did not last for more than a minute. It was the machinery adjusting itself, on the spur of the moment, to a hundred altered conditions. Mr. Wardrop, one foot on the upper grating, inclined his ear sideways, and groaned. You cannot stop engines working at twelve knots an hour in three seconds without disorganising them. The Haliotis slid forward in a cloud of steam, shrieking like a wounded horse. There was nothing more to do. The five–inch shell with a reduced charge had settled the situation. And when you are full, all three holds, of strictly preserved pearls; when you have cleaned out the Tanna Bank, the Sea–Horse Bank, and four other banks from one end to the other of the Amanala Sea—when you have ripped out the very heart of a rich Government monopoly so that five years will not repair your wrong–doings—you must smile and take what is in store. But the skipper reflected, as a launch put out from the man–of–war, that he had been bombarded on the high seas, with the British flag—several of them—picturesquely disposed above him, and tried to find comfort from the thought.
"Where," said the stolid naval lieutenant hoisting himself aboard, "where are those dam' pearls?"
They were there beyond evasion. No affidavit could do away with the fearful smell of decayed oysters, the diving–dresses, and the shell–littered hatches. They were there to the value of seventy thousand pounds, more or less; and every pound poached.
The man–of–war was annoyed; for she had used up many tons of coal, she had strained her tubes, and, worse than all, her officers and crew had been hurried. Every one on the Haliotis was arrested and rearrested several times, as each officer came aboard; then they were told by what they esteemed to be the equivalent of a midshipman that they were to consider themselves prisoners, and finally were put under arrest.
"It's not the least good," said the skipper, suavely. "You'd much better send us a tow—"
"Be still—you are arrest!" was the reply.
"Where the devil do you expect we are going to escape to? We're helpless. You've got to tow us into somewhere, and explain why you fired on us. Mr. Wardrop, we're helpless, aren't we?"
"Ruined from end to end," said the man of machinery. "If she rolls, the forward cylinder will come down and go through her bottom. Both columns are clean cut through. There's nothing to hold anything up."
The council of war clanked off to see if Mr. Wardrop's words were true. He warned them that it was as much as a man's life was worth to enter the engine–room, and they contented themselves with a distant inspection through the thinning steam. The Haliotis lifted to the long, easy swell, and the starboard supporting–column ground a trifle, as a man grits his teeth under the knife. The forward cylinder was depending on that unknown force men call the pertinacity of materials, which now and then balances that other heartbreaking power, the perversity of inanimate things.
"You see!" said Mr. Wardrop, hurrying them away. "The engines aren't worth their price as old iron."
"We tow," was the answer. "Afterwards we shall confiscate."
The man–of–war was short–handed, and did not see the necessity for putting a prize–crew aboard the Haliotis. So she sent one sublieutenant, whom the skipper kept very drunk, for he did not wish to make the tow too easy, and, moreover, he had an inconspicuous little rope hanging from the stem of his ship.
Then they began to tow at an average speed of four knots an hour. The Haliotis was very hard to move, and the gunnery–lieutenant, who had fired the five–inch shell, had leisure to think upon consequences. Mr. Wardrop was the busy man. He borrowed all the crew to shore up the cylinders with spars and blocks from the bottom and sides of the ship. It was a day's risky work; but anything was better than drowning at the end of a tow–rope; and if the forward cylinder had fallen, it would have made its way to the sea–bed, and taken the Haliotis after.
"Where are we going to, and how long will they tow us?" he asked of the skipper.
"God knows! and this prize–lieutenant's drunk. What do you think you can do?"
"There's just the bare chance," Mr. Wardrop whispered, though no one was within hearing—"there's just the bare chance o' repairin' her, if a man knew how. They've twisted the very guts out of her, bringing her up with that jerk; but I'm saying that, with time and patience, there's just the chance o' making steam yet. We could do it."