“Oh yeah?” growled Steve. “Well, what’s Rigger goin’ to say about it? He said bring the mug up to the bridge.”
“He said bring him up if we can move him.”
“Well, ain’t that what I’m doin’, Bert? Wakin’ him up?”
Bert had opened the porthole. He turned around to argue with Steve, while Delka continued his role of possum with two purposes. His first was to give opportunity for the men who had sent down the bottle; they might need the time to plan his rescue. His second idea was to learn all he could by listening to Steve and Bert.
“Rigger ain’t in no hurry, Steve,” Bert stated. “He’s got to talk with the old man, up on the bridge. Get him primed to lay down the terms when we show up with this bird Delka.”
“The skipper’s welchin’, eh?” questioned Steve, glancing at Delka and flicking his light to make sure the prisoner was motionless. “I thought maybe he was gettin’ cold feet. What’s Rigger doin’ about it?”
“He don’t have to do nothin’. We own the boat, don’t we? Hilder may he captain of the Zouave, but Rigger Luxley gives the orders.”
“Then why is he lettin’ Hilder stall?”
“Just soft-soapin’ the old man, that’s all. Makin’ him think we ain’t goin’ to be too tough. Hilder’s got to cruise aroun’ in this tub after we’re through with it. An’ what’s more, he’s got to navigate it while we’re still on board. Savvy?”
“Sure! I get it, Bert. Well, leave it to Rigger. He’ll keep the old man in line.”
Steve began to shake Delka. He waited after one attempt; then became more rough. This time, the prisoner decided to respond. He came up to a sitting position and stared stupidly at the men who had come for him.
“O.K., Steve,” decided Bert. “Hoist him up.”
BETWEEN them, the two thugs supported the Scotland Yard man and moved him from the cabin.
Stumbling between them, Delka kept up the pretence that he was groggy. They reached a companionway. Delka became a heavy burden going up the steps. At last they reached the deck. Here the pair halted to regain their breath.
Eyes half opened, Delka looked cautiously about. He was on the forward deck of the tramp steamer.
Dim lights showed battened hatches and small, antiquated loading cranes. The bridge was just above; another flight of steps would be the next course.
There were men about the deck. Delka could make out their scattered figures. They looked like seamen but probably they were ruffians, like Steve and Bert. All except two; perhaps a few more. For Delka was positive that the note in the bottle had come from real friends on board.
Crew members had promised to aid him, if they could. But would their task be possible? From the conversation between Steve and Bert, Delka had learned that crooks must certainly outnumber real seamen aboard the Zouave. Hope dwindled within the prisoner as Steve and Bert began to move him toward the steps to the bridge.
It was then that Delka sensed a peculiar thrumming that sounded above the pounding of the Zouave’s engine. The purr was from high above, like the roar of an airplane motor. Steve and Bert heard it also; they stopped short and looked upward.
Dark night persisted above the feeble glow of the freighter’s top lights. No sign of an airplane’s riding lights. Nothing but a dreary half haze that formed a remnant of the broken fog.
Then the thrumming ceased. Silence reigned and the higher blackness. Steve and Bert stood puzzled.
They exchanged remarks.
“Sounds like some airplane,” growled Steve. “But what’s it doin’ offshore without no lights?”
“Maybe some guy got lost in the fog,” returned Bert. “Comin’ up from Florida or somewhere, maybe. Guess he’s spotted our lights, an’ is takin’ a chance on landin’ in the water.”
“So’s we’ll pick him up, huh? That’s a laugh, ain’t it? Fat chance Rigger will worry about that guy.”
“Well, it’s a cinch he won’t try to land on the deck. So what’s we got to do with it?”
The two thugs turned to drag their prisoner toward the steps to the bridge. At that moment, a man appeared at the doorway from the steps.
Delka was the first to see the newcomer, he needed no introduction to know that this was Rigger Luxley. Hard-faced, big-fisted, the man from the bridge glared at Steve and Bert.”
WHAT’S holding you mugs?” demanded Rigger. “I told you to bring Delka up to the bridge.”
“We’re bringin’ him, Rigger,” replied Steve.
“And mooning on the way,” snorted Rigger.
“On account of the airplane,” stated Bert. “We was listenin’ to it, Rigger. Up over the ship.”
“What airplane?” quizzed Rigger. “I didn’t hear any. I don’t hear one now.”
“Maybe it’s hit the water,” returned Steve. “We was just wonderin’. Anyway, Rigger, we had to get Delka awake before we could move him.”
“An’ we knew you was talkin’ to the skipper,” put in Bert. “Primin’ him for—”
“You mugs know too much!” rasped Rigger. “Come on! Load this dope up the steps so’s the old man can talk to him. I’m following.”
Rigger glared as his henchmen shoved Delka toward the steps. With a snort, the mobleader prepared to follow. Then, suddenly, Rigger wheeled. A downward swishing sound had caught his attention; following it came startled cries from along the deck.
Staring, Rigger saw a monstrous object as it swooped straight downward like a bird of prey. An autogiro, descending straight from the night, squarely upon the deck of the Zouave.
The huge, windmill blades above the ship were spinning as the pilot made his precarious landing. Then the autogiro reached the end of its descent. One wheel struck a hatch and jounced; the other wheel tilted to hit the deck.
For an instant, it looked as though the landing would prove disastrous. The lower wing keeled heavily, starting toward a sidewise overturn. Then the autogiro righted, swung half about. The lower wing crashed against a derrick. Struts crackled momentarily then the craft wavered to a standstill.
RIGGER LUXLEY bounded forward upon the deck, hand thrust to pocket, ready to draw a revolver.
He wanted to meet these intruders from the air; to challenge them and learn their identity. Rigger wanted no uninvited guests aboard the Zouave.
Half way to the autogiro, Rigger stopped short. He saw someone dropping from beside the plane. Rigger stared into the gloom, to make out the figure that he could barely discern.
Then from Rigger’s startled hips came a wild cry — one that was echoed by his minions as they rose from beside the rails of the Zouave. Leader and henchmen — all of New York’s underworld — had recognized the being from the autogiro.
In mocking challenge to the shouts of crooks came the burst of a strident laugh. Weird merriment broke from hidden lips beneath the lowered brim of a slouch hat. Automatics showed in the gloved fists of the cloaked figure that swept toward the center of the deck.
In one amazing second, men of crime had recognized their unexpected foe; and had heard his answer to their frantic outcry. The Shadow had come aboard the Zouave!
CHAPTER VII. THE RESCUE
To Eric Delka, the events which succeeded The Shadow’s arrival were startling episodes of furious battle. Steve and Bert had turned about at the foot of the steps, their action an instantaneous response to Rigger’s cry.
To Delka’s amazement, he was forgotten. He saw a revolver glimmer in Rigger’s hand; he realized suddenly that Bert and Steve were yanking guns as well. Like their leader; like the thugs along the deck, these two were springing out to deal with the common foe.
Automatics roared the opening of the fray. Delka saw tongued flashes from the cloaked apparition on the deck. He watched The Shadow whirl about and perform a sweeping fadeaway, as crooks fired in return.