El Diablo, Page 24

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A FIGHTING CHANCE

  Mascola's boats advanced warily, spreading out and covering off thedefending fleet as they came. It would be a boat to boat, man to manfight in the darkness.

  Head-on, the opposing fleets collided with a crash which twisted theirkeels and racked their timbers. Lights merged together and becamestationary as hull locked with hull in a grinding embrace. The aliencrews swarmed to the decks and leaped across the rail upon the Americansailors who surged forward to meet them. Fists flashed in the darkness.Men met hand to hand. The night was filled with wild cries, thetrampling of heavy feet, the thud of contact of wood meeting wood andflesh meeting flesh. From the center of the struggling mass of men andboats came a sudden flare of light which dispelled the dark shadows castathwart the vessels and brought into bold relief the struggling figuresof the men who battled on the decks.

  "Fire!"

  The cry was taken up by every throat and echoed down the line. It cameto Kenneth Gregory on the extreme end of the left wing where he hadbeen directing the defense of his weakened quarter, by acounter-flanking movement. A boat afire! And right in the center of hisfleet! When the tank exploded hundreds of gallons of burning distillatewould flood the waters. But he dared not think that far. Whirling the_Richard_ about, and circling behind his line of boats he dashed away toface the new peril.

  The crew of the _Florence_ abandoned the attack at the first cry andsurged to the hold to fight the conflagration. A gasoline stove,carelessly left burning by one of that vessel's drunken crew, had beenoverturned by the shock of collision, and had fired the bilge. Fanned bythe rising winds, the flames were licking at the oil-soaked timbers andspreading rapidly toward the tanks in the bow.

  The alien crew of the _Florence_ fled in a panic of fear. Leaping to therail they flung themselves to the deck of a neighboring craft which wasalready backing away from the ill-fated vessel. From all sides, friendand foe alike drew away from the blazing fishing craft. For the timebeing the sound of conflict gave place to the rasp of reverse levers,hoarse cries of warning and the labored chug of heavy-duty motors goingfull astern. In the ever-widening cleared space about the ill-fatedderelict the lurid waters were churned into a roseate foam by thefrenzied lashing of the heavy propellers of the fishing craft as theirmasters sought to clear the dangerous area.

  As the _Richard_ sped on in the direction of the ever-brighteningglare, Gregory's mind kept pace with the rapid pulsing of the high-speedmotor. He must tow the blazing vessel clear of the fleet before thetanks exploded.

  Dodging among the retreating fishermen he grazed the _Curlew's_ hull andplunged into the open space. Warning cries sounded above the roar of theflames but he did not hear them. His plan, formed on the instant, mustbe put into execution at once. If it failed, the speed of the _Richard_would carry Dickie to a place of safety. It was a fighting chance. Thatwas all.

  Swinging the _Richard_ about, he drove straight for the _Florence_.

  "Take the wheel, and stand by," he cried to the girl. "If the tank goes,run."

  He leaped from his seat as the _Richard_ breasted the blazing hull andDickie found herself gripping the big steering wheel before she couldutter a protest. Gregory was already in the stern of the _Richard_.Grasping the stern-anchor chain of the speed-launch, he caught thewire-stays of the _Florence_ and pulled himself aboard, dragging thechain after him. For an instant he clung to the rail, shielding his facewith his arms. Then he scrambled on deck.

  Holding the _Richard's_ stern close to the _Florence's_ bow, Dickie Langsaw Gregory running across the deck. Saw his reeling figure silhouettedagainst the white glare of the blazing cabin-house. Heard the rattle ofthe heavy anchor chain of the alien fishing-boat. Keeping the _Richard_in place with an effort against the wind and chop, she waited. Heexpected her to stand by.

  His hair singed by the heat, with blistering face and burning lungs,Gregory dropped by the snubbing-post in the bow and tugged at the heavychain and knotted it about the block. Then he made the free end fast tothe chain of the _Richard_. Running to the rail he threw his body overand hung by his hands, searching the air with his feet. Then he felt thedeck of the _Richard_ beneath him.

  Dickie Lang had stood by.

  The next instant he was again at the wheel and the _Richard_ lungedforward.

  "Steady," cautioned the girl. "Don't take the slack so fast. Hard aport. Now kick your stern over. That's the stuff. Pay out. Now you'vegot her."

  For an instant the _Richard_ quivered with anger to find herself inleash by the fiery incubus at her stern. Then she settled doggedly towork and the two vessels began to gather way. To the right and left thefishing-boats scattered before them. The tanks of the blazing tow mightexplode at any minute. It was best to be in the clear. In the commonfear of the new danger the contending factions drew apart, friend andfoe uniting in the universal effort to gain a place of safety. The windcaught the blaze and fanned it upward in a solid sheet of flame whichblistered the varnish of the _Richard's_ stern-deck.

  "Get down," Gregory shouted above the roar of the speed-boat's exhaust.

  Dickie started to protest when she felt herself jerked roughly from theseat.

  "There's nothing you can do now. Lie still. Keep your head covered." Thetone was gruff, the words commanding, spoken by a man. A man who thoughtof the safety of others and placed it before his own. A man who was notafraid to take chances. Dickie's heart glowed with pride as she huddledin the _Richard's_ cockpit. It was worth while to know a man like that.

  Mascola watched the progress of the burning _Florence_ from the deck ofthe _Lura_. His blood-shot eyes gleamed red in the glow from the burningvessel and the lust of destruction surged into his heart. He was losingone of his best boats. Somebody must pay.

  In the light of the fire he saw the vessels of the defense scattered.Now would be his chance to crowd through to the fishing fleet. With thewind and sea at his back he would pile them up on the rocks. Jumping tothe _Fuor d'Italia_ he sped away to direct the attack upon the heavilyladen fishing-boats.

  Clear the fishing fleet and shunt the _Florence_ to the rocks with thewind and current. For the space of a few seconds it was Gregory's onlythought. The rising wind at his back was hot with the fevered breath ofthe burning tow. What did it matter if the heat was scorching his neck?Only a few boats remained ahead. Then he would be in the clear. If thetanks of the _Florence_ exploded he must crawl to the stern and cut thetow-line. The crested waves began to slap angrily at the speed-boat'shull. Then the _Richard's_ motor began to miss.

  "She's all right. Keep down. I can----"

  A muffled roar interrupted his words. The hull of the _Florence_ bulged.A jet of flame mounted upward from the deck. The engine-house totteredand collapsed in a shower of glowing sparks which filled the air andrained down into the _Richard's_ cockpit. A stream of burning oil surgedup from the hull of the derelict and tumbled into the sea, blazingfiercely on the crest of the waves.

  "Take the boat."

  Before the girl could gain the wheel Gregory was fighting his way to thestern. As Dickie's fingers closed on the steering-wheel he was slashingat the rope spliced to the chain. With blistered hands and burning lungshe hacked at the tough strands of hemp with his pocket-knife. Thethreads of the line snapped and crinkled from the heat. The water aboutthe speed-craft's stern was on fire. Tottering drunkenly, he bent lowand held his breath. The rope was more than half severed. The threadswere already parting from the strain. Then the knife slipped from hisblistered fingers and fell into the water.

  Mascola witnessed the explosion of the _Florence's_ first oil tank witha grim smile. The vessel was already clear of the fleet. She could do nodamage now save to the _Richard_ and her crew. With his eyes fixed onthe fire, Mascola prayed to his saints that the second and larger tankmight explode before Gregory could sever the tow-line. Fascinated by thesight, he moved farther to windward and watched.

  Kenneth Gregory's bleeding fingers tore at the straining fiber of thequiverin
g line which bound the _Richard_ to destruction. One by one thethreads snapped and curled in the heat radiated from the burning vessel.

  Dickie Lang huddled in the driver's seat and jerked the hull of thespeed-craft frantically against the strain of the tow-line. For aninstant death held them by a single strand. Then the line parted and the_Richard_ leaped to safety. The cool rush of air revived Gregory'ssenses and he found himself leaning weakly against the coaming of thespeed-boat. Then he heard the girl calling from the wheel.

  "Mascola's broken through."

  He gulped in the moist sea air and groped his way forward. Far asternthe wreck burned fiercely, bringing into bold relief the frowning peakswhich fringed the shore-line of El Diablo. As he caught at the rail forsupport he saw the flames leap skyward, blackened by smoke and bits oftimber. The waves burned brightly about the settling hull. Then came thesound of the explosion of the _Florence's_ second tank.

  "Mascola's broken through. Can't you hear me? Are you hurt?"

  Gregory staggered to the seat and dropped beside the girl.

  "I'll be all right in a minute," he said. "Keep going. I can't see verywell yet. You say he got through?"

  "Yes. He's trying to crowd the fishing fleet to the rocks. Look!"

  In the light that the burning vessel astern cast upon the waters ahead,Gregory saw a confused jumble of boats crowded close against thesaw-toothed reef.

  "Damn him!" he grated. "We'll beat him yet. Slow down. Give me thewheel."

  Dickie relinquished the steering-wheel with reluctance.

  "We ought to be putting to sea," she observed as a sudden gust of windand rain assailed them. "This is a bad place to be caught napping."

  Gregory's eyes glowed with the lust of battle. "No," he gritted. "We'regoing to stay and fight. Mascola's not going to win on a fluke if itcosts me every boat I have."

  In a frenzy of activity he threw the _Richard_ wide open and sped awayto gather his scattered boats for a flank attack upon the alien fleet.

  Mascola was in high good humor. His boats were crowding the fishermenbackward in the direction of the reef. Forced to the rocks they wouldhave no chance in the face of the approaching storm. What was the lossof the _Florence_ in comparison to the destruction of a dozen or morefully equipped fishing vessels, laden to the water-line with theirvaluable cargoes?

  Repairing to the cabin of the _Lura_, the Italian refreshed himself witha drink. A shout from without brought him hurrying to the deck. Bearingdown upon him at full speed came the cannery fleet. His vessels werebroadside. They would strike him full on the beam. Cut his boats in two.Mascola shrieked out an order to put about and face the enemy. Hiscaptains sprang to their respective wheels and battled desperately amongthemselves for steerage way.

  Then came the crash.

  Skirting the mass of snapping grinding hulls, Gregory shot through withthe _Richard_ and came among the fishing-boats. Some were alreadygrazing the reef. A line from the speed-craft pulled them again tosafety and launched them around Mascola's rear. Fighting their waythrough the press of the alien craft they circled and renewed the attackfrom the opposite flank. Mascola's fleet was caught broadside betweenthe Americans.

  The din of the battle mingled with the roar of the wind. Again men metover the rail. Knives flashed in the sullen glare from the burning_Florence_. Pistol shots echoed above the tumult and the air was filledwith flying splinters.

  Slowly and inexorably Mascola's fleet was ground back. An alien craft,reaching the clear space to the rear of the battle line, turned hastilyabout and fled down the narrow channel leading to the sea. Anotherfollowed. Still another.

  Mascola strove vainly with shouts and curses to stem the tide of hisretreating vessels, but the boats brushed by him and continued on theirway. Soon the exodus became a rout with hull scraping hull in the effortof the alien boats to gain sea-way in the channel.

  In a few minutes the last of Mascola's fleet, leaking badly and settlinglow in the water, lumbered by with rapidly pulsing motor in thedirection of Northwest Harbor.

  "We beat him at his own game." Kenneth Gregory repeated the words againand again. Blood flowed from a jagged cut in his cheek. His face andhands were raw and blistered, but his eyes were shining with the lightof victory.

  In the shadow of the _Pelican_ his arms closed about Dickie Lang and hedrew her to him. "We beat him," he cried. "You, and the boys, and I."

  The girl struggled for a moment, then lay passive in his arms. He wasdelirious from the fire and the battle. He did not know what he wasdoing. Freeing herself with an effort from his clinging arms she drewaway.

  "We must put to sea," she cried. "Before the storm breaks."

  Gregory roused at her words and turned quickly away.

  "Yes," he answered. "You're right. I forgot."

  Within a few minutes the cannery fleet was heading down the main harborchannel in the direction of the open sea.

  Then the storm broke. Battling desperately into the teeth of the gale,the fishing-boats plunged head-on into the curling waves. Lashing thesea into white-caps, the wind picked up the water and hurled it to thedecks in great clouds of choking, blinding spray.

  In a last dying flare the flames leaped upward from the charred hull ofthe _Florence_ as she lay pillowed on the rocks. And in the feeble glow,only Hawkins, who was looking astern, saw the shadowy outline of a longgray boat nosing her way about the island.

  The _Gray Ghost_ was running before the storm.