LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      If the breeze did not increase during the night, if casting off was impossible, would Harry Markel and his companions have to abandon the ship, board the rowboat, row to the back of the cove, run up into the countryside in the hope of escaping the police searches, and, if this attempt failed, try another? Perhaps, after having taken refuge in some shoreline cave for the day, they could perhaps wait for the wind to pick back up and, once night had fallen, return on board?

      But when the passengers, early the next morning, would find the ship abandoned, they would return to Queenstown. Men would immediately be sent to seize the Alert and bring it to port.

      It was then that Harry Markel, the boatswain, and Corty conversed about these different questions, while the others stayed together on the forecastle.

      “Bloody breeze!” repeated John Carpenter. “There’s too much when you don’t want any, and not enough when you do!”

      “And if the tide doesn’t bring any wind,” added Corty, “it isn’t with the ebb tide that it’ll blow from land.”

      “And the skiff that’s going to arrive tomorrow morning with its passenger cargo!” exclaimed the boatswain. “Will we have to wait for them?”

      “Who knows, John?”

      “After all,” admitted John Carpenter, “there are only about ten of them, according to what the newspaper says. Young men with their professor! We were quite capable of getting rid of the Alert’s crew, and we’ll be able …”

      Corty was shaking his head, not that he disagreed with John Carpenter, but he thought it necessary to voice this reflection:

      “What was easy during the night will be less easy during the day. And then, these passengers will have been brought by people from the port who may know Captain Paxton! What will we answer when they ask why he isn’t on board?”

      “We’ll tell them that he went ashore,” replied the boatswain. “They’ll come aboard. The skiff will return to Queenstown. And then …”

      It is certain that, in this deserted Farmar Cove, at a moment when no ships would be in sight, these desperate men could easily have their way with the passengers. They would have no hesitation about committing this new crime. Mr. Patterson and his young companions would be massacred without even being able to defend themselves, as had the men of the Alert.

      However, as was his custom, Harry Markel was letting them talk. He was reflecting on what had to be done about this very threatening situation in which they now found themselves because of the impossibility of reaching the open sea. He would not hesitate, but perhaps it would be necessary to wait until the following night, yet another twenty-some hours. And then, there was still the serious complication that Captain Paxton would be known by one of them, and how to explain his absence on the very day—one may say, at the very hour—when the Alert was supposed to cast off?

      No, what was best would be for the weather to allow them to set sail and get away, in the darkness, some twenty miles to the south of Ireland. It was a great misfortune that they were prevented from raising anchor and escaping any pursuit.

      After all, maybe it was only a matter of being patient. It was not eleven o’clock yet. Would not a modification in the atmospheric conditions occur before dawn? Yes, perhaps, even though Harry Markel and the other seamen, accustomed to observing the weather, could not make out any favorable signs. The persistent fog caused them very legitimate concerns. It indicated an atmosphere soaked in electricity, one of those “rotten weather” spells, as the sailors say, from which nothing can be hoped and which might last for several days.

      Be that as it may, the only thing to do, for the moment, was to wait; Harry Markel responded no more than that. When the moment came, they would decide if it was best to abandon the Alert and seek refuge in some point of Farmar Cove in order to reach the countryside.

      In any case, the fugitives were stocking up on food, after having helped themselves to the money locked in the Captain’s drawers and in the sailors’ bags. They would wear the crew’s clothes, found in their quarters—a less suspect attire than that of escapees from Queenstown.

      Thus armed with money and provisions, who knows if they would not succeed in eluding the police searches, and in embarking on a ship at some other Irish port, and then in making themselves safe in another continent?

      So, there were five or six hours yet to pass before a decision had to be made. Harry Markel and his gang, hunted by the constables, were exhausted when they arrived on board the Alert. In addition, they were dying of hunger. Consequently, as soon as they became masters of the ship, their first priority was to get themselves some food.

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