the pirates forced them out, despite their resistance, and soon the bridge was red with the blood of eleven corpses.
“Bodies into the sea!” yelled Corty, getting ready to throw the cadavers overboard.
“Hold on!” Harry Markel said to him. “The tide will bring them back toward the port. Let’s wait for the low tide, and it will take them out to sea.”
Harry Markel and his companions were now masters on board the Alert.5
6 Masters of the Ship
The coup had succeeded. This first part of the drama had been accomplished in all its horror and under conditions of extraordinary audacity.
After the Halifax, Harry Markel was now the master of the Alert. No one could suspect anything about the drama that had just taken place. No one would be able to denounce the crime committed in one of the most frequented ports of the United Kingdom, at the entry of Cork Harbor, host to numerous ships sailing between Europe and America.
At present, these criminals no longer needed to fear the English police. The latter would not track them down on board the Alert. They would now be able easily to take up once again their old habits of piracy in the far regions of the Pacific. They had only to weigh anchor and sail for the open sea. In a few hours, they would be outside Saint George’s Channel.
To be sure, when the students from the Antillean School arrived to embark on the Alert early the next morning, the ship would no longer be at its anchorage, and they would look for it in vain in Cork Harbor or in the port at Queenstown.
And then, once this disappearance was recognized, what explanation would they imagine to account for it? What hypothesis would come to mind? Had Captain Paxton and his crew been forced to set sail, without even waiting for their passengers? But for what reason? It was not bad weather that had forced the ship to leave Farmar Cove. The breeze from the open sea was barely noticeable as it reached the bay. The sailboats were still. For the past forty-eight hours, only a few steamers had been able to go in or out. The night before, the Alert had been seen at that spot, and, to suppose that, during the night, it had been boarded or that it perished in an accident from which remained not a single piece of wreckage—this all seemed far too implausible.
It seemed that the truth would not be known very soon, that it might never be known, perhaps, unless one of the cadavers, found on one of the shores, happened to reveal the mystery of this horrible massacre.
But it was important for Harry Markel to abandon the anchorage of Farmar Cove as soon as possible so that the Alert would no longer be there at sunrise.
If conditions were favorable when leaving Saint George’s Channel, instead of steering southwest in the direction of the Antilles, the Alert would steer to the south.
Harry Markel would be careful to remain out of sight from land, to stay away from the regular nautical routes taken by the ships that descend toward the equator. Under these conditions, leaving quickly would prevent him from being caught again, in case an aviso1 was sent to look for him.
Besides, nothing would lead anyone to believe that Captain Paxton and his crew were not on board the ship chartered by Mrs. Seymour. For what reasons it had taken to the sea, one could not know, and it would be best to wait at least a few days.
Thus, Harry Markel had all the luck in his side. His nine men would suffice amply to maneuver the Alert. They were, as stated before, very good sailors, and they had an absolute trust in their captain, which he had earned.
Accordingly, everything was falling into place to assure the success of this enterprise. A few days from now, the ship having not reappeared in Cork Harbor, the authorities would be inclined to think that, after having taken to the sea for reasons unknown, it had perished with all hands in the middle of the Atlantic. It would never occur to anyone that the escapees from the Queenstown prison had seized it. The police would continue their inquests and would extend them to the outskirts of the city. The county would be submitted to a very meticulous surveillance. They would also give the surrounding countryside the alert. In short, there would be no doubt that this gang of criminals would be caught without delay.
What was going to aggravate the situation for Harry Markel, however, was that the circumstances were not favorable to an immediate casting off.
In fact, the weather had not changed at all, and it did not appear that it would. That thick fog was still falling slowly from the lower zones of the sky. The stationary clouds seemed to come down to the surface of the sea. For a few moments, even the flashes from the lighthouse at the mouth of the bay were hardly visible.
In the midst of the deep darkness, no steamship would attempt to enter or leave. It would have run the risk of running aground by failing to make out the lights on the coast and on Saint George’s Channel.
As for the sailboats, they were no doubt at a standstill a few miles out in the open sea.
Moreover, the sea “felt no motion.” The bay waters were hardly undulating under the action of the rising tide. There was scarcely the mutter of a light splashing on the side of the Alert. The rowboat was barely swaying at the end of its mooring line at the stern.
“Not enough wind to fill up my hat!” exclaimed John Carpenter, accompanying this remark with the most frightful profanities.
They could not even consider casting off.
The inert sails would have hung from the masts, and the ship, pulled by the current, would have simply drifted across the bay to the port of Queenstown.
Generally, when the tide begins to be felt, the waters from the open sea bring a small breeze, and, even though that breeze would have been in the contrary direction, Harry Markel, by tacking, would have tried to depart.
The boatswain was familiar enough with that region so as to not compromise its course, and, once outside, the Alert would have been able to hold a good position in order to take advantage of the first gusts of wind. Several times, John Carpenter climbed to the top of the mast. Perhaps the cove, sheltered by high cliffs, was stopping the wind. No, nothing, and the weather vane on the mainmast remained still.
However, all hope was not lost, even if the wind did not pick back up before daybreak. It was only ten o’clock. After midnight, the tide would switch. At that moment, taking advantage of the ebb tide, would Harry Markel not try to reach the sea? Aided by its smaller boats, manned by the crew who would use them to tow it, would the Alert manage to leave the bay? No doubt Harry Markel and John Carpenter had thought about this measure.
What would happen if the ship remained immobile? When the passengers could not find the ship, they would come back to the port. They would learn that the Alert had cast off. They would look for it in the bay. And what if the Naval Bureau sent a fishing steamboat to meet up with it beyond Roche’s Point? What dangers would Harry Markel and his companions run then? Their ship, stationary, would be recognized, seized, searched … It meant an immediate arrest. It meant the police learning of the bloody drama that had cost Captain Paxton and his crew their lives!
One can see, there was a real danger in leaving, since the Alert was not certain to get very far; but there was yet another risk, no less real, in delaying their departure and remaining in Farmar Cove. At this time of the year, moreover, the calm periods extend sometimes for several days.
In any case, they had to make a decision.
