Firing sounded from below decks. Seeing that attack was useless from this spot, Clyde’s companions rushed to the nearest companionway. Others were coming up to take care of the wounded. Propped against a stateroom door, Clyde listened to the sound of battle.
The gold thieves had arranged a path straight to the hold. They had carried the stolen metal in relays, protected by a handful of gun wielders. Below decks, they were holding back the crew while they loaded the sacks of gold into the motor boat.
The machine gun on that lowlying vessel gave the boat adequate protection. The gun was rattling now, preventing men from approaching the rails of the Patagonia.
As two men helped Clyde Burke to his feet, a wild, triumphant shout came from below. Uttered by a score of voices, it meant only that the crew had overpowered the rear guard that was holding them back. The men of the Patagonia had proven themselves too strong for the few who resisted them.
But amid that shout came a new sound — the sudden thrumming of the motor boat. The machine gun gave a last rattle as the flight began.
The men who were helping Clyde turned toward the rail. With them, Clyde saw events below.
The last sack of gold had been tossed into the waiting boat. With the signal to clear, the speedy vessel was swinging away from the side of the big ship.
In their eagerness for a quick getaway, the men who had received the gold were giving no more heed to the men who had made the raid upon the treasure vault of the Patagonia. Wild screams arose as the men who had tossed down the gold leaped for the motor boat to escape the attack of the crew that was breaking into the hold.
Not one of these desperate crooks reached his objective. The few who sprang forward found themselves precipitated into the sea. The others paused on the brink, shouting imprecations to the traitors who had abandoned them.
Turning, they opened fire upon the invading crew. Fighting to the end, their bullet-riddled bodies toppled and fell splashing into the ocean.
Seamen of the Patagonia reached the open hold and fired vainly at the departing motor boat. The cause was hopeless. Churning through the water, its submerged prow plowing up the swell, the strange boat was beyond recall. A lowlying streak speeding rapidly toward the horizon, it had departed with its cargo of stolen wealth.
PROPPED in his berth a few hours later, Clyde Burke heard further details. Clyde was one of the heroes of the fray — the only passenger who had joined the crew in the conflict against the raiders. His explanation of how he had wrested the revolver from an attacker was justification for the weapon in his possession.
A room steward gave Clyde final information. Nearly twenty men had been identified as members or allies of the raiding band. Of these, only five — three traitors in the ship’s crew — had survived. They were being held for piracy.
Each man had admitted that he had been paid to join in the plot; but all disclaimed knowledge of the men in the mystery boat. The captured wretches seemed only too eager to seek vengeance thrust upon those who had deserted them; but they were totally in ignorance of the identity of the men who had engineered the plot.
Then came a bit of news that was of special significance to Clyde. Among the slain raiders had been found the body of the radio operator. The man had deserted his post with the opening of the attack. He, like the others, had expected to escape in the boat that had taken the gold.
Before leaving the wireless room, the operator had put the equipment out of commission. At present, the Patagonia was steaming toward New York with no means of informing the world of what had taken place aboard!
Startling though that information was, the news explained more to Clyde Burke. He realized that the traitorous operator had been on duty when he had taken his radiogram to the wireless room.
The message to The Shadow had not been sent!
Somewhere, out on the broad expanse of slowly heaving blue that Clyde could see from his cabin porthole, was a swift, lowlying boat speeding toward a spot of safety with a fortune in stolen gold. The lives of many men had been sacrificed to gain that wealth.
Had Clyde’s message reached The Shadow, this crime could have been frustrated. From now on, Clyde knew, The Shadow’s task would be to regain the stolen gold and bring doom to the plotters who had let death rule in their thirst for wealth.
CHAPTER III
THE SHADOW ACTS
THE daring gold robbery aboard the steamship Patagonia became sensational news in the New York dailies. The bold act of piracy was unparalleled in the history of modern shipping.
From the time that the Patagonia reestablished contact by wireless, until the liner docked in New York — in the days of search and investigation that followed — the gold robbery remained the outstanding feature of front-page news.
Clyde Burke, a bona-fide newspaper correspondent, who had figured in the fray, immediately gained a position as special staff writer on the New York Classic. His signed articles, beginning with the actual episode and continuing through the period of search, were recognized by the public as the most authoritative records on the subject of the missing gold.
The Patagonia had been less than thirty miles offshore at the time of the attack. The escaping motor boat — a craft that was speedy despite its semi-submersible construction — had gained more than three hours’ start. That was enough to have enabled it to reach the coast, unload the gold, and take to sea again.
But the alarm from the Patagonia had created an effect that surpassed all expectations. With one accord, every possible arm of the law had swung into immediate action.
Piracy!
That electric word had roused Federal and State governments to instant action. Coast-guard cutters swung out to sea. Destroyers and submarine chasers joined them. Naval seaplanes swept above the coast.
All roads for miles back from the shore were patrolled by State officers. United States marines were placed on duty. Governors summoned national guardsmen for special work. From rock-bound Maine to smooth-beached Florida, thousands of watchers were alert.
Special action was taken toward investigation of rum runners in the belief that they might have been concerned in the bold expedition. Dozen of boats were brought into port. Not one answered the description of the mystery raider.
Conjecture supplanted fact. Experts agreed that the unknown ship might be a submarine — the Nautilus of Jules Verne’s story, brought into modern reality. If so, the raiders could be out of sight beneath the surface of the ocean.
Great depth, however, would be necessary to escape the observation of the air patrol. A submarine, too, would make slow progress beneath the water, and would be forced to come up eventually.
The Patagonia was a British ship; hence the naval vessels of Britain joined in the search. All foreign ports were watching. There was nowhere in the Atlantic where the pirates could have found a haven unknown. Yet seeking ships everywhere, were unrewarded.
There was also a theory that the gold robbers might have destroyed their boat after landing the stolen wealth. They could scarcely, however, have done this without leaving some trace of the deed. In all, the whole case was a mystery of the deep that seemed to baffle all discovery.
POSITIVE proof existed that the plans behind the raid had been arranged with the utmost cunning. The crooks aboard the Patagonia had been in utter ignorance of the details.
Each had been paid an advance sum, with promise of more — and all had taken their cash from one man. This individual was Jeremy Stock, an Englishman with a shady reputation as an international swindler. From some source, Stock must have received a tip that a boat would meet the Patagonia, and that he would receive his share of the spoils by attending to the job aboard the liner.