"Yes, I'll admit that," conceded Captain Blair to Captain Davis, late of the S.S. Kittiwake. "We've had bad weather. It blew like great guns twelve hours after the life-boat got away from here. But Burgoyne knows what he's about. He's used to small sailing craft and so are the other fellows. He'll win through."

"A good many days have passed since the boat left," remarked Captain Davis. "He has had time to fetch the Marshall Islands and get a warship here long ago. Of course, he might have escaped the gale, or even struck the tail end of it."

The two skippers were having their after-supper yarn, and as usual conversation turned upon the subject of Burgoyne's dash with the life-boat. Both men had their doubts, but Captain Blair refused to admit his. The skipper of the Kittiwake, sanguine for the first fortnight, was beginning to express grave concern as to the possible fate of the life-boat and her crew.

"That bilious-faced Strogoff isn't back yet," continued Captain Blair. "There's no doubt about it, he's in pursuit of Burgoyne. If he'd found him he'd be back before this, especially as the Malfilio's expected back at any moment."

"Mind you, I'm only speculating on it," said Captain Davis. "But I've a notion that Strogoff took that Canuk passenger of yours along with him. When did you see the lubber last?"

"The night the life-boat got away," replied Captain Blair. "Or, rather, Mr. Tarrant saw him talking to Strogoff just before the evening muster."

"Pity you hadn't—" began Davis, then, clutching his companion's arm, he pointed to the two block-houses by the gate of the compound. "Something up over there," he added.

In the light of a couple of portable petrol lanterns considerable activity was observable amongst the guards. Their numbers were being much diminished by the withdrawal of twenty armed and obviously excited pirates, while the remainder were gesticulating violently, some pointing to the compound, others to the two machine-guns that commanded that far from delectable spot.

Presently the gate of the compound was unlocked, and Fernando, accompanied by half a dozen armed men, entered the enclosure. A whistle sounded—the signal for the prisoners to assemble.

In five minutes every officer and man remaining out of the original crews of the three captured vessels turned out and fell in, taking up their allotted positions, and forming three sides of a hollow square.

Into the centre strode Fernando and his bodyguard, and without further ado, without even calling the roll, the half-caste began reading in execrable English the orders for the night.

All lights and fires were to be extinguished. No one was to leave his hut until further notice. No shouting or demonstration of any sort was to be permitted. Any breach of these regulations would be punished by a heavy and prolonged burst of machine-gun fire upon the prisoners' camp.

"This looks like business, Angus," remarked Captain Blair to the Chief Engineer, after the parade had been dismissed and Fernando had left the compound.

"Ay, sure," agreed Angus. "Weel, I doot we'd best bide the noo. I ken fine yon Porfirio person has took mair than he can abide by. We'll be seein' shot and shell flyin' come the morn."

The Chief Engineer's surmise was a correct one. A wireless message from the Malfilio's seaplane had just been picked up in which the pilot informed Porfirio of the disconcerting news that a couple of large cruisers, some destroyers, and a few aircraft were looking for him.

The news was enough to strike terror into the hearts of the pirates who formed the garrison of the secret base. They knew perfectly well that it mattered little as to whether the Malfilio escaped, returned to the island, or was sunk. In any case they couldn't get away, and before long they would have a powerful squadron trying conclusions with them. They might fight to the last, but there was no escape. Surrender meant death, save for those who might obtain respite by turning evidence against the others.

To increase their desperation was the belief that Porfirio, Henriques, and Black Strogoff had deliberately abandoned them to their fate. The prolonged absence of the Malfilio and the disappearance of Strogoff with a band of boon companions seemed to confirm this theory, and when rogues distrust each other their plans fall to the ground.

All that night the feeling that there was something in the air kept everyone awake. The pirates were apprehensive and jumpy; their captives sanguine and excited, in spite of the tedious passage of the night hours.

Just as dawn was breaking Phil Branscombe went to the open window of his hut and listened intently. Then he turned to Withers, his "cabin-mate".

"Old bird," he announced, "I hear an aeroplane."

"The Malfilio's seaplane returning, I expect," rejoined Withers, stifling a yawn.

"Wrong, my festive!" exclaimed Phil ten seconds later. "They're British seaplanes."

Of that there was no doubt. Flying high they were already in the rays of the sun, while the ground was yet in shadow—three large biplanes fitted with both floats and landing-wheels. Above the island they separated, one passing over the harbour, another circling above the Observation Hill, and the third, swooping down to within a couple of hundred feet, described figures of eight above the prisoners' huts.

Presently a powerful Aldis light flashed from the third seaplane. Blinking rapidly it Morsed the following, "Are prisoners compelled to man batteries?"

Regardless of Fernando's warning, at least half a dozen men signalled replies, using any fabric nearest to hand to "flag-wag" the reassuring message that all hands were within the limits of the fence.

"O.K." flashed the seaplane's lamp, and then the information was promptly transmitted by wireless to the Armadale.

Meanwhile the second seaplane had dropped a message, with distinctive streamers attached, close to the Observation Hill. It was an ultimatum, ordering the garrison to surrender at discretion, and signify the same by hoisting a white flag within thirty minutes of the receipt of the demand.

But the ill-advised action on the part of the machine-gunners in the block-houses destroyed the chance of the pirates surrendering without bloodshed. The seaplane over the prisoners' camp offered an irresistible bait, and a burst of machine-gun fire was directed upon the rapidly-moving aircraft.

Retribution came swiftly. The seaplane, absolutely untouched, rose steeply until it was impossible for the pirates to elevate their machine-guns sufficiently to bear upon the aerial target. Then in quick succession it released four powerful bombs. One secured a direct hit, blowing a block-house to atoms, while the others, falling close to the second machine-gun post, damaged it so severely that only three badly-scared men emerged from the ruins, and fled panic-stricken to a shelter of a more substantial nature.

Remaining aloft sufficiently long to wireless the news to the Commodore and to wind up her trailing aerial, the seaplane volplaned down and made a faultless landing close to the huts occupied by the Donibristle's crew.

"We'll hike you all out of this in another three or four hours," declared the flight-lieutenant to the crowd of merchant seamen gathered round the machine, "but you'll have to bear a hand. In case the pirates start reprisals on you, take these."

He handed out canvas bags containing Service revolvers and ammunition, sufficient to arm eighty men.

"Right-o!" he continued. "Our heavy guns will start firing in half a shake, but don't get the wind up. We've located your position all right. Your only danger is if these yellow blighters start running amok this way. If they do, shoot hard and straight. Well, cheerio! My work's not done yet. I'm spotting for the Armadale—one of our crack cruisers."

"One moment," interposed Captain Blair. "Have you any news of my Third Officer, Mr. Burgoyne?"

The Flying Officer shook his head.

"Never heard of him," he replied. "What do you want?"

"He got away from here in a boat to obtain help," replied Captain Blair. "We thought perhaps it was he who reported the existence of t............