His arms rose and fell rhythmically, making not the least sound as they cleared the water and then dived back at full stretch. The Saint could keep up that graceful overarm for hours, but on this occasion he had no need for such a display of stamina. His trained muscles drove him forward tirelessly at a pace that ate up distance. He steered a wide circling course to keep well out of the danger zone between the Old House and the ship, where he might have been spotted by a pair of keen eyes in one of the rowboats or by anyone who happened to be looking across that reach of water from either side, for the moonlight was strengthening with every minute an act of cussedness on the part of Nature which made the job in hand a more ticklish proposition for both Saint and Tiger alike. Even so, it was not very long before he came up under the motor ship's cruiser stern, after covering the last hundred yards under water with only three cautious floatings-up for breath.
He clung there for a moment's rest, and then worked his way along the seaward side, where it would be safest, forward to the bows, hugging close in to the hull. It then occurred to him that the climb up the anchor chain, in full view of the island and the ship's bridge, would be a very chancy method. Yet the vessel's sides rose sheer and unbroken for six feet before they were cut by the lowest row of portholes.
But once more his luck held. As he swam slowly along, pondering this problem, he ran right into a rope ladder which hung .down from the deck. It couldn't have been more conveniently provided if he had asked for it to be lowered against his arrival, but a little thought gave him the reason for its presence. It must have been dropped for the Tiger and his principals to come aboard, and since then the tide must have swung the ship right round on her moorings. And there it was, temporarily forgotten, and just the very thing he wanted.
The noise of the donkey engine, throttled down though it was, and the creaking of the derricks which were taking the gold on board, was louder now, and he could hear the sound of sea boots grating on the deck, and the subdued voices of men. As far as he could gather on his way up they were working on the after hold, for he heard nothing from directly above him.
The Saint came level with the deck and peeped over. All was clear at that point and forward of it, but he could see a few figures clustered round the small hatch aft, and an arm of timber stood out against the sky with a square case dangling at the end of it. Fortunately, they were all intent on their task, and already he had banked on the ship being short-handed, so that all the crew there was would be occupied with other things than loafing about getting in his way. With a quick heave, the Saint gained the rail, went over, and landed on the deck without sound. Facing him was an open door and a companionway. He jumped for it.
On the first step he paused and listened, but the work was going steadily on, and clearly nobody had noticed the dripping dark shape that had slipped over the rail and leaped across the exposed bit of deck.
"So far, so very good!" said the Saint, and a smile of joyous anticipation flitted across his lips. "Once aboard the lugger and the gold is mine!"
The companion ran down into a dimly lighted alleyway, and there the Saint hesitated. That was a risky place to loiter in. Cabins were also risky they needed only the turning of a key to turn them into prisons. But he wanted a few seconds to rest and plan the next move, and bad to take his chance.
There was a promising-looking door right opposite him, and he tiptoed across the alley and turned the handle very softly. But the door must have been locked, for his gently increasing pressure failed to make it budge. The Saint was promptly intrigued by that locked door. It immediately drove all thoughts of safety and rest and scheming out of his head, and in his reckless fashion he resolved to have a look inside that cabin with the least possible delay, whether it was occupied or not and, listening with his ear to a panel, he came to the conclusion that the unbroken silence within laid more than a shade of odds on its being empty. But to open a locked door required more implements than he had on him, and he was about to go in search of the engine-room workshop to collect suitable apparatus when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
In a flash he located their origin round the nearest corner of the passage. The Saint retreated a little way up his companion ladder an unwise move, since it left him with a very groggy line of withdrawal if the man glimpsed him and raised the alarm; but Simon, ever an opportunist, was curious to see who it was that had time to spend below when all hands were toiling to get the cargo loaded in the shortest practicable time.
He peeped one eye round the angle of the bulkhead, and then drew back sharply.
It was Bloem, carrying a tray on which was a plate with a pile of sandwiches and a siphon. The Saint glanced back over his shoulder, but behind him the deck was still deserted, though he was in imminent danger of discovery by anyone who happened to pass and glance down. For an instant he meditated flight but only for an instant. The deck would be an unhealthy place for Simon Templar to wander around just then, and, besides, there was the door to open and Bloem to tail up in case the Boer were bringing the Tiger a little supper.
The Saint flattened himself atainst the bulkhead; and, as the footsteps drew level with him, he tensed up ready to take instant action, if Bloem noticed him. But the Boer was already turning away when he came into view, and Simon's eyes fired up as he saw that Bloem was making for the locked door.
Bloem set the tray down on the floor, fumbled for a key, and turned it in the lock. He pushed the door half open, and the Saint could see one corner of the cabin, for the lights were on inside. Then Bloem bent down to pick up the tray, and as he did so Simon dived from the eighth stair.
The Saint landed on one hunched shoulder, and that shoulder impinged accurately over Bloem's kidneys. The man gave a grunt of agony. All the weight of Simon's leaping, falling body was hurtling on behind that muscular shoulder, and Bloem was caught off his equilibrium. The impact sent the Boer toppling over, and his head was bumped forcefully against the floor as Simon crashed on top of him.
Bloem was absolutely out, but the sound of the scuffle might possibly have been heard. The Saint was on his feet again with the speed of a fighting panther. He grabbed Bloem by the collar and yanked him into the cabin; then he snatched in the tray. In a moment he had the door shut and had turned with his back to it to see what his impulse had let him in for.
It was not till then that he saw someone sitting quietly on the bunk.
"Oh, how d'you do, Auntie?" said the Saint, who was always polite, and Agatha Girton's lips curved ironically.
"You're really rather a wonderful man, Mr. Templar," she remarked.
Chapter XVII
PIRACY
Coming from the opposite side of the tor to that of the Saint's take-off, Patricia and her two lieutenants had no need to make a detour. They approached the Tiger's ship on the sheltered side. The hull of it cast a deep and spacious shadow over the moonlit waters, and all the attention of the crew would be concentrated toward the island and away from the swimmers, so that the only precautions the raiders had to observe were those of slipping through the quiet sea without noise.
When the sides of the ship loomed above them, Patricia forged ahead and led the way up under the bows. There they rested for a moment, clinging with cramped fingers to the edges of the plates, while their leader reconnoitred.
She swam back a little way to get a clear view of the anchor chain, and saw the same disadvantages in that line of attack as the Saint himself had envisaged. Then, being the freshest of the trio after the swim, she moved along the side to prospect for an alternative route. Thus she discovered the rope ladder which the Saint had used, and returned to inform the others of their good fortune. They followed her back Orace was plugging doggedly on, but Algy was in great distress, and had held them back considerably in the last quarter mile and the girl caught the lower rungs and pulled herself out of the water.