Accustomed to comparatively short hours of sleep, as are usual afloat, Burgoyne was up and about before the sun rose. In spite of the unusual stability of his hard bed—it was the first night he had slept ashore for nearly four months—his rest was none the less good on that account; but once awake he felt compelled to dress and go out.

"What's up, old man?" inquired a drowsy voice, as Branscombe lifted a tousled head from his pillow—or rather a pile of folded clothes.

"Show a leg and shine, my festive," exclaimed the Third Officer. "Come along, let's see if we can put in a swim before breakfast."

Phil assented, dressed hurriedly, and accompanied Burgoyne into the open air. By that time the sun was just showing above the edge of the cliff. The reek of wood-fires mingled with the soft, cool air. Already in three separate canvas-screened enclosures the cooks of the respective crews were busy. Alwyn wondered whether Miss Vivian was one of the energetic ones.

"Our fair passenger has weathered another day, old thing," remarked Branscombe.

"Yes," agreed Burgoyne. "That's so. Hope we'll be able to work the stunt all right."

"It won't be for want of trying on your part," rejoined Phil. "Miss Vivian told me last night that you nearly jumped down her throat 'cause she'd washed her face."

"Was she angry about it?" demanded Alwyn.

"Not a bit, only amused."

"Amused?" retorted the Third Officer. "Just like a girl. She'd never see the serious side of things. I wouldn't mind betting that she'll disobey orders, and show a sparkling healthy complexion to every slant-eyed Chink that comes into the compound."

The two chums were passing within thirty yards of the hut with the canvas annexe that formed the "galley ". As they did so a grimy, laughing face with a mass of cropped hair appeared through a slit in the canvas, and a hand was waved in friendly greeting.

"You've lost your bet, old man," observed Phil. "Wonder if she heard what we were saying?"

"At any rate," rejoined Alwyn. "She's carried out orders. She probably realizes that this isn't a scene from The Pirates of Penzance. So far all's well, but honestly I don't like the look of things. There's something very fishy about the way that scoundrel Porfirio is treating us. This sort of conciliatory business has something behind it. I shouldn't be surprised if the blighter doesn't show himself in his true colours before very long."

The two chums walked to the extreme north-western point of the island, where further progress was barred by the sheer descent of cliff. It was hardly what Burgoyne had expected. He had hoped to find a path giving access to the shallow bay, but there was none.

Foiled of the chance of having a bathe, Burgoyne began taking stock of the surroundings. From where he stood the barrier reef enclosing the lagoon presented an unbroken wall of surf-lashed coral. There was not the suspicion of an opening. Immediately off the point the reef extended seawards for nearly a couple of miles, diverging shorewards until towards the north-eastern and south-western points of the island the lagoon narrowed to about one hundred yards. On the northern face of the island the coast was but slightly indented, the cliffs being of almost uniform height. But on the western side there was a bay of considerable width, bounded on the southern extremity by a hook-shaped spur of lofty ground, off which was an islet of about an acre in extent, and only about half the height of the nearmost cliffs of the main island. The cliffs did not drop sheer into the water, but were fronted by a broad and slightly-shelving beach of glistening white sand.

As far as Burgoyne could make out, this side of the island was undefended by guns in position. Evidently the authorities responsible for the safety of the secret base deemed the frowning cliffs to be sufficient protection. An army formed up on that beach would be useless for assault, since the smooth overhanging precipices were unscaleable.

Presently Alwyn, who had been silently contemplating the view, startled his companion by declaring:

"I'm going to explore that beach, old son!"

"Nonsense!" protested Phil. "The cliff's too smooth. There's not a single niche in it. You'd be smashed to a jelly for a dead cert."

"I'm not trying at present," said Burgoyne. "But I mean to some day. And by a rope."

"Rope! What rope?" asked his friend.

"We'll have to make up one from short ends," replied Alwyn. "It's easy to cut off short lengths and stow them under our clothes. Then at night, or at any odd time if it comes to that, we can make up a rope long enough to reach the beach, and strong enough to bear at least a couple of men. Then if we can get hold of some files——"

"You'll have a job, old son," interrupted Branscombe. "I was speaking to Withers about that very thing last night. There's a mighty sharp Chink in charge of the stores in the workshops, and he takes care to count every blessed thing in the tool line that's issued out, and when they are returned, he—— Hello! What's the move now?"

Breaking off in the midst of his description of Li Whong's methods, the Fourth Officer pointed in the direction of the conical hill which had attracted the chums' attention on their first journey from the tunnel to the compound.

Owing to the contour of the ground forming the prisoners' camp, the whole of the enclosed space was under direct observation, not only from the two block-houses, but from the hill as well. A few minutes before the flat top of the hill was seemingly bare. Now a tall flag-staff had been reared within the space of thirty seconds. Even as the chums looked, they saw a red-and-black flag broken out smartly at the masthead.

"What's that for, I wonder?" remarked Phil.

"Hanged if I know," replied Alwyn. "Precious little good I should imagine, since there's no wind. See anything seaward? I do, by Jove! There's a vessel nearly hull down."

"The Malfilio most likely," hazarded Branscombe. "Why doesn't she use wireless?"

"She does; to keep in touch with that seaplane of hers," replied Burgoyne. "But I don't fancy she would communicate by radio with her island."

"Why not? There's wireless on board the Kittiwake and that other craft, and they would have had ours if they hadn't blown the cabin to smithereens."

"Yes," agreed the Third Officer. "They've got the apparatus right enough, but Porfirio, although he's a rotten pirate, is no fool. If the island made use of it its position could be fixed by directional wireless, and that's what Porfirio doesn't want for obvious reasons. I think I twig the meaning of that flag. Look over there."

He pointed towards the eastern side of the island to a position slightly northward of the entrance to the tunnel. There, as on the last occasion when the Malfilio made the harbour, three heavy columns of smoke were rising. That was the pre-arranged signal that the pirate cruiser could make her base without fear of the island having fallen into other hands during her absence.

"She's evidently been disappointed," remarked Branscombe. "There is no other craft with her."

"Unless," added Burgoyne, "she's sunk her victim, in which case she wouldn't have had time to remove the cargo. Sorry we can't wait to see her negotiate the reefs, but if we are to have any breakfast we must be getting back. Talking of grub, old thing, reminds me: I'm going to ask Colonel Vivian to hold back at least one tin of stuff a day. It'll keep, and there's no knowing if we may want it in a hurry."

As the chums strolled back to the huts they noticed that the flagstaff on the observation hill had been lowered, while a few seconds later they heard the hum of an aerial propeller.

Scanning the sky, they spotted the Malfilio's seaplane flying at an immense height. Then, shutting off the motors, it volplaned steeply and vanished from sight behind the cliffs surrounding the harbour.

"That's what we want," declared Branscombe sententiously. "Pity we weren't in the Royal Air Force. Old man, we've been neglecting an important part of our education, what?"

"Yes," agreed Alwyn. "If either of us could manage that, we might be able to collar the seaplane one dark night, and be in Honolulu before daybreak. However, I still hold out hopes that we'll be able to cut out one of the small sailing craft."

"How far are we from Honolulu?" asked his companion.

"'Bout eight hundred miles, I think," was the reply. "And there's the North Equatorial Current against us, to say nothing of the Nor'east Trades. No, Honolulu's dead off as far as sailing there is concerned. I'd make for the Marshall Islands, or even the Gilbert Islands. It's farther, but one would stand a better chance. Heigh-o! We've got to find a boat first."

Breakfast was already in progress when they arrived at the camp. Directly the meal was over the men were paraded for inspection. Black Strogoff was not present for this function. He rarely was, according to Captain Davis, since he had a strong aversion to early rising. But the under-officer, Fernando, deputized for him, reading out instructions, written in peculiar English, with an accent that rendered the words almost unintelligible.

With one exception the routine of the various parties was the same as yesterday's; but four men were told off to provide fish for the Donibristle's crew. Later on Burgoyne found out that this was to be done every third day, the intervening days being allocated to fishing-parties drawn from the Kittiwake's and Alvarado's crews respectively.

"I'm on that, if it can be worked," decided Burgoyne. "You fellows know how to carry on with the crane."

The men expressed no surprise nor resentment at the Third Officer's decision to "put in for a soft job". Knowing Burgoyne to be a smart officer who never spared himself when there was work to be done, they guessed that he had something up his sleeve.

So when the working parties marched through the gate of the compound, one of the crew who somewhat resembled Burgoyne wore the Third Officer's drill coat and cap, while the latter in his shirt sleeves fell in with three others, and was supplied with lines and bait by an unsuspecting Chinese pirate.

After the customary precautions on the part of the guards, Burgoyne's party was taken through the tunnel to the beach. Alwyn suspected that the fishing operations would be conducted from the rocks, but to his great satisfaction the Chinaman pointed to a boat, and made signs for it to be launched.

The boat was a heavy one, being about eighteen feet in length and double-ended. There were air-tanks under the side benches, while, differing from ............