He antic.i.p.ated no difficulty in pa.s.sing the Customs. None of the officials would detect in the harmless-looking slab that resembled sheet-glue one of the strongest explosives possible to obtain. They were "traveller"s samples" and as such were allowed duty free.
So within ten minutes of leaving the _West Barbican_ Ludwig Schoeffer was bowling along in a rickshaw, drawn by a huge, muscular Zulu "boy", en route for a small hotel that overlooked the harbour.
On the following day Schoeffer"s explosive, with the detonator timed for its maximum limit, was stored in No. 3 hold of the S.S. _West Barbican_, as one of the twenty odd cases of hardware consigned by the well-known firm of Van der Veld to Senhor Perez Bombardo of Beira.
Simply but effectively disguised, Schoeffer saw the crate whipped on board and lowered into the hold. So far so good. It looked as if he were certain of success. He chuckled as he conjured up a mental picture of the head director of the Pfieldorf Company handing over a substantial cheque.
During the rest of the _West Barbican"s_ stay at Durban, Ludwig Schoeffer lay low. For the present he had done all that was necessary.
His deep-laid scheme was progressing favourably.
His idea was to signal the ship by means of wireless and, by spurious authority, order her to Rangoon. It was not unusual for ships of the Blue Crescent Line to receive unexpected orders when on the high seas, since they held roving commissions once they were round the Cape and had landed their mails.
And, since it would take longer than the seven days to make Rangoon, the _West Barbican_ would end her career mysteriously in mid-Indian Ocean.
At ten one morning the _West Barbican_ stood out to sea bound for Beira and Pangawani, at which latter place she was to land the consignment of steelwork for the Kilba Protectorate.
At four the same afternoon Schoeffer walked into the offices of the wireless company at Durban.
"I want this message sent to the _West Barbican_," he announced, handing in a form written in code--the private code of the Blue Crescent Line.
The clerk accepted the form without demur. He had no idea of its meaning, nor had he any way of finding out. Not that he wanted to.
Messages in code were the rule rather than the exception.
The message as received and ultimately sent off by the sh.o.r.e operator was as follows:
"SW. TLB. FEW. CNI. TLXQ. VP AELB TNI PU. AEMQ".
Ludwig Schoeffer paid the eighteen shillings demanded and obtained a receipt. Then, having got an a.s.surance that the message would be dispatched within an hour, he wished the clerk good afternoon and walked briskly to the waiting rickshaw.
The bogus message read, when decoded:
"I have received telegraphic instructions from your owners for you to proceed straight to Rangoon, where you will unload steelwork, proceeding thence to Port Sudan".
CHAPTER XVIII
The Difference of a Dot
"h.e.l.lo, Sparks; you look a bit off colour?"
This was Dr. Selwyn"s greeting as Mostyn, having handed over the watch to Plover, walked into the doctor"s cabin.
"I feel it, Doc," replied Peter. "Touch of the old complaint--malaria."
Selwyn had detected the symptoms the moment the Wireless Officer showed his face inside the door. Peter was trembling violently. He was feeling horribly cold, and his head was aching badly.
"Taken any quinine?" asked the medical man.
"Yes," was the reply. "My ears are buzzing already."
"Then turn in," ordered Selwyn. "I"ll make you up a draught. Keep as warm as you jolly well can. This will make you perspire freely before midnight, and you"ll be fit by this time to-morrow."
Peter waited while the doctor made up the medicine, and then staggered to his cabin, where Mahmed, greatly concerned, helped his master into bed and piled blankets and a bridge-coat upon his shivering body.
It was now one bell in the first dog watch.
At two bells Peter was still awake and trembling with cold spasms when Watcher Plover hurriedly entered the cabin.
Plover had no idea that Mostyn was down with malaria, and it was not unusual for him to find Peter lying on his bunk when off duty.
"Call for the ship, sir," he reported. "No bloomin" error this time.
SVP as sure"s my name"s Plover."
Mostyn kicked off the blankets and rolled out of the bunk. He staggered as he stood up, and would have been glad of Plover"s a.s.sistance. But the Watcher, having delivered his message, had gone back to his post.
With a terrific buzzing in his ears Peter almost dragged himself along the alleyway and up the bridge-ladder. Many a time he had regretted the absence of a second wireless officer. Now, above everything, he wanted an efficient subst.i.tute; but, of course, none was available.
Entering the wireless-cabin, he picked up the telephones and gave the acknowledgment. Then, a pencil in his trembling hand, he waited for the text of the message to come through:
"SW. TLB. FEW. CNI. TLXQ. VP AELD TNI PU. AEMQ".
Yes, Peter had that all right, but, ever on the cautious side, he asked for the message to be repeated.
"Here you are," he said, handing the duplicate message to his a.s.sistant. "Nip off with that to Captain Bullock."
"Don"t you look rummy, sir?" remarked Plover, noting for the first time Mostyn"s drawn features.
"Am a bit," admitted Peter. "I"ll be all right by the morning. Skip along."
Watcher Plover "skipped along" at his usual stolid pace to the Old Man"s cabin, while Peter, almost incapable of controlling his trembling limbs, somehow contrived to regain his bunk.
"Signal just come through, sir," reported Plover, as he handed the pencilled form to the skipper.
"All right," replied the Old Man brusquely. "Hand me that book; the second on the left. That"ll do, carry on."
It did not take Captain Bullock long to decode the message, but a frown of perplexity spread over his forehead as he read the momentous words.
Then he rang the bell and ordered Plover to return.
"Who received this?" he asked.
"Mr. Mostyn, sir; he had the signal repeated."
"All right. You may go."
The a.s.surance that the Wireless Officer had personally taken down the code message removed all doubts from Captain Bullock"s mind.