Seeing that he could render no further assistance Captain Restronguet ordered the "Aphrodite" to be submerged. It was the safest plan, for although he communicated with the "Pique" by wireless, the message was not in code, and the British cruiser, determined to take no risks, might open fire at the submarine.
The position of the "Vorwartz" was now, according to the detector, forty miles S.W. of her pursuer. When Captain Restronguet came to fix her position on the chart he knitted his brows in perplexity. The rival submarine was, if his information was correct, actually within the delta of the great Zambezi River.
"Now we have her!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet gleefully. "It will be a bit of a shock to Von Harburg when he finds that his return journey is barred by the only craft he feared and one that he thought he had destroyed."
"Do you think he's heard that the 'Aphrodite' was not smashed up after all?" asked Hythe.
"It is doubtful. If he has I can only conjecture that he has decided to ascend the Zambezi in the hope of eluding us. Otherwise I cannot suggest any reason unless he wishes to form a base in this unhealthy Portuguese territory since his Sumatran refuge is closed to him."
"I have heard that the district is reeking with fever, sir," remarked the sub. "Many times men-of-war have sent exploring parties up the river and almost invariably some, and once every man, of the crew have been stricken down. The Portuguese have, apparently, taken no active steps to rid the locality of the mosquitoes. If the deadly climate could be rendered habitable, as in the case of the Canal Zone at Panama, the Zambezi would be one of the greatest trading arteries of the world."
"Some day it will," said Captain Restronguet. "The British Government has had its eye upon Portuguese East Africa for some time. Could the Portuguese Republic be induced to sell it there would be a splendid outlet for Rhodesia, and under active management the Zambezi would make a splendid waterway. Even now it is navigable as far as Kebrabassa Falls, nearly three hundred miles from the delta."
"It strikes me, sir, that we shall be grilling in a fetid atmosphere before many hours are past," observed Devoran. "Why couldn't Karl von Harburg stick to the sea?"
"There's nothing like variety," replied Captain Restronguet complacently. "After we've settled with the 'Vorwartz' we may have a little shooting; lions and rhinos are fairly plentiful, to say nothing of smaller fry. But I do not think we need entertain fears of the climate. It is only at night that the pestilential mists are really dangerous. Every day just before sunset, we will submerge the 'Aphrodite,' since there is reason to suppose there are deep holes in the bed of the river for this to be done even if the normal depth is insufficient. We shall not thus be inhaling the noxious gases, nor be exposed to the attacks of mosquitoes and other germ-bearing insects; whilst river-water passed through our condensers will be perfectly drinkable."
According to the rosy views held by the captain of the "Aphrodite" the new phase of the cruise was to be a sort of picnic; but he had reckoned without his host.
On arriving off the First Bluff Point, on the western side of the main outlet of the Zambezi, it was found that there was such a heavy tumble on the bar that to attempt to cross it would be an impossible task.
The detector showed that the "Vorwartz" was maintaining her distance; evidently she was in luck, and had negotiated the difficult entrance in the nick of time.
For twenty-eight days the "Aphrodite" lay in sight of the clump of high, straight trees, that lay very close together, giving the point the appearance of a cliff, to which the name of First Bluff Point owes its origin.
Meanwhile the news of the great disaster to H.M.S. "Topaze" had been sent by wireless to Cape Town by the captain of the "Pique," and in a very short space of time the Admiralty were in possession of the salient facts of the latest outrage by Karl von Harburg. There was a panic amongst the merchantmen in East African waters; the scanty harbours of that coast were filled with ships whose skippers feared to put to sea. Even the mail-boats took particular care to give the supposed cruising-ground of the "Vorwartz" a wide berth; while the liners running between London and Liverpool and Australia and New Zealand abandoned the Cape route and stuck to that via Cape Horn.
People began to ask what was the use of having command of the sea when one solitary submarine could do practically what it liked beneath the surface. Vast sums had been spent to keep the British navy in a state of efficiency and numerical supremacy; money had been poured out like water to provide defence against hostile aircraft that might menace our shores; yet one submarine--not a new invention, but merely a great improvement on existing types--was playing a one-sided game not only with British shipping, but with the mercantile marine of the whole of the nautical world. And now even warships were being sent to the bottom without so much as a glimpse of the attacker.
In the midst of this gloomy outlook came a consoling gleam of light. The "Aphrodite" was now known to have survived the attack made upon her by her rival; and to Captain Restronguet the entire civilized world pinned its faith.
Although Captain the Hon. C. L. Sedgwyke had refused to make any public statement concerning the disaster to his ship until the impending court martial took place, he telegraphed a full report to the Admiralty. It was the plain, unvarnished story of a brave yet unfortunate British officer. He laid particular emphasis upon the fact that Captain Restronguet was in the "Aphrodite," ready and willing to grapple with the modern buccaneer, but only at earnest solicitation of the captain of the "Topaze" did he stand passively aloof in order to give the British cruiser a chance to distinguish herself.
Britons are generally supposed to be a phlegmatic race, but when they have an attack of hero-worship they get it pretty badly. Captain John Restronguet was the hero of the day. A photograph that an amateur photographer on the "Persia" took of him during the "Aphrodite's" passage through the Red Sea appeared in all the papers, edition de luxe copies were sold by hundreds of thousands, and the firm who bought the copyright for one guinea made nearly £30,000 out of the transaction. Restronguet coats, hats, and boots were all the rage; in fact the name Restronguet applied to any article ensured it a ready sale. The nation was Restronguet mad.
But the captain of the "Aphrodite" was not a man to have his head turned by fatuous hero-worship. He knew perfectly well that in the course of a few years his name would be a mere byword. Reports of his popularity had been transmitted to him by his agents. He merely shrugged his shoulders, and impressed upon the wireless operator who received the messages to maintain a strict reticence as to their nature. He had a mission to perform, and he meant to accomplish it. Thus, with ill-concealed impatience he waited and waited till, with his crew, he became heartily sick of the sight of First Bluff Point and the forbidding bar of the mighty Zambezi.
On the morning of the twenty-ninth day of the "Aphrodite's" detention a native boat, manned by half a dozen blacks, was observed to have managed to cross the bar and was bearing down towards the vessel. In the stern was a European, a sallow-faced man dressed in dirty white clothes and a broad sun-hat.
As soon as the boat came alongside the bowman dexterously threw a rope, and when this was made fast the white man, without waiting for an accommodation ladder to be shipped, swarmed up on deck.
"Me pilot," he explained, with a deep bow and a flourish of his hat. "Me pilot 'pointed by Republic. Me take you in."
"Is it safe to cross the bar?" asked Captain Restronguet eagerly.
"Yes, senhor; me take you in for so many milreis," and he held up the fingers of both hands four times.
It was a matter of nearly nine pounds--thrice the amount the Portuguese expected to receive. It was part of his nature to make allowances for being beaten down.
"I'll make it gold to the value of eighty milreis if you put me inside the bar to-night," said Captain Restronguet.
"Me take you up to Marromea--that am de port--for dat," exclaimed the pilot gleefully. "How much you draw?"
"Twelve feet," replied Captain Restronguet.
The Portuguese had no need to make a calculation to arrive at the depth in "bracas," since the British fathom is almost identical with the Portuguese "braca."
"Too ver' much," he exclaimed, shaking his head.
"I can reduce it to seven feet."
"How can do? You no throw cargo oberboard?" asked the astonished Portuguese.
Without replying, Captain Restronguet gave an order for the emergency tanks to be emptied, and still greater was the pilot's amazement to find the vessel rising higher and higher out of the water.
Suddenly it occurred to his slow-witted brain that the craft he had boarded was a submarine, and since the only submarine he had heard of was the "Vorwartz," that had made the passage under cover of night, he came to the startling conclusion that he had boarded the pirate vessel. His olivine features turned a sickly yellow till there was hardly any contrast between his face and the whites of his eyes, and turning, he made a rush for the side.
"Steady, my worthy friend!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet, as Devoran and Kenwyn caught the Portuguese by the shoulders. "A contract is a contract. You've got to pilot my vessel over the bar."
"Mercy, senhor!" whined the fellow falling on his knees.
"Get up, you idiot!" said Captain Restronguet sharply, but all to no purpose; the pilot maintained his entreaties at the top of his voice.
"I believe he imagines he's on board the 'Vorwartz'," suggested Hythe.
"Perhaps," agreed the captain, then addressing the pilot he told him that he was in no danger, and that he was on the "Aphrodite."
But the man was so terrified that the words fell on deaf ears. His terror was increased by a sudden commotion over the side as his native crew, hearing the cries of their master, took their paddles and made off for the shore as hard as they could urge their cumbersome craft.
At last Captain Restronguet became out of patience with the craven pilot. At a sign from him Devoran whisked the Portuguese to his feet and led him for'ard. Here he again collapsed, grovelling on the deck. It was now nearly high water, and unless something were done another delay of twelve hours at least--possibly of days--would necessarily ensue.
Drawing his automatic pistol he clapped the muzzle to the pilot's temple. The touch of cold steel did what words had failed to do. Abject terror was banished by the stern menace of that small yet powerful weapon.
"No shoot, senhor capitan!" howled the wretched man. "Me take you ober: no shoot."
Captain Restronguet replaced his pistol, the pilot, still shaking, stood in front of the helmsman in the fore-conning-tower and directed him by movements of his hand. Four minutes sufficed to bring the "Aphrodite," rolling like a barrel, through the agitated water on the bar, and thus after nearly a month of inaction the avenging submarine floated in the turgid waters of the broad Zambezi.