“We had no idea where the people responsible for these disappearances were getting their information. Such arrangements as to the decision to ship, when, how and how much, are made in conditions of intense secrecy. They, whoever ‘ they’ are, had impeccable sources of information. Calvert says he knows those sources now. After the disappearance of the first three ships and about six million pounds’ worth of specie it was obvious that a meticulously organised gang was at work.”
“Do you mean to say – do you mean to say that Captain Imrie is mixed up in this?” Charlotte asked.
“Mixed up is hardly the word,” Uncle Arthur said dryly, “He may well be the directing mind behind it all.”
“And don’t forget old man Skouras,” I advised. “He’s pretty deep in the mire, too – about up to his ears, I should say.”
“You’ve no right to say that,” Charlotte said quickly,
“No right? Why ever not? What’s he to you and what’s all this defence of the maestro of the bull-whip? How’s your back now?”
She said nothing. Uncle Arthur said nothing, in a different kind of way, then went on:
“It was Calvert’s idea to hide two of our men and a radio signal transmitter on most of the ships that sailed with cargoes of bullion or specie after the Headley Pioneer had vanished. We had no difficulty, as you can imagine, in securing the cooperation of the various exporting and shipping companies and governments concerned. Our agents – we had three pairs working — usually hid among the cargo or in some empty cabin or machinery space with a food supply. Only the masters of the vessels concerned knew they were aboard. They delivered a fifteen-second homing signal at fixed — very fixed – but highly irregular intervals. Those signals were picked up at selected receiving stations round the west coast – we limited our stations to that area for that was where the released crews had been picked up – and by a receiver aboard this very boat here. The Firecrest, my dear Charlotte, is a highly unusual craft in many respects.” I thought he was going to boast, quietly of course, of his own brilliance in designing the Firecrest but he remembered in time that I knew the truth.
“Between 17th May and 6th August nothing happened. No piracy. We believe they were deterred by the short, light nights. On 6th August, the Hurricane Spray disappeared. We had no one aboard that vessel – we couldn’t cover them all. But we had two men aboard the Nantesville, the ship that sailed last Saturday. Delmont and Baker. Two of our best men. The Nantesville was forcibly taken just off the Bristol Channel. Baker and Delmont immediately began the scheduled transmissions. Cross-bearings gave us a completely accurate position at least every half-hour.
“Calvert and Hunslett were in Dublin, waiting. As soon –”
“That’s right,” she interrupted. “Mr. Hunslett. Where is he? I haven’t seen——”
“In a moment. The Firecrest moved out, not following the Nantesville, but moving ahead of its predicted course. They reached the Mull of Kintyre and had intended waiting till the Nantesville approached there but a south-westerly gale blew up out of nowhere and the Firecrest had to run for shelter. When the Nantesville reached the Mull of Kintyre area our radio beacon fixes indicated that she was still on a mainly northerly course and that it looked as if she might pass up the Mull of Kintyre on the outside – the western side. Calvert took a chance, ran up Loch Fyne and through the Crinan Canal. He spent the night in the Crinan sea-basin. The sea-lock is closed at night. Calvert could have obtained the authority to have it opened but he didn’t want to: the wind had veered to westerly late that evening and small boats don’t move out of Crinan through the Dorus Mor in a westerly gusting up to Force 9- Not if they have wives and families to support – and even if they haven’t,
“During the night the Nantesville turned out west into the Atlantic. We ‘thought we had lost her. We think we know now why she turned out i she wanted to arrive at a certain place at a certain state of the tide in the hours of darkness, and she had time to kill. She went west, we believe, firstly because k was the easiest way to ride out the westerly gale and, secondly, because she didn’t want to be seen hanging around the coast all of the next day and preferred to make a direct approach from ‘the sea as darkness was falling.
“The weather moderated a fair way overnight. Calvert left Crinan at dawn, almost at the very minute the Nantesville turned back east again. Radio transmissions were still coming in from Baker and Delmont exactly on schedule. The last transmission came at 10.22 hours that morning: after that, nothing.”
Uncle Arthur stopped and the cheroot glowed fiercely in the darkness. He could have made a fortune contracting out to the cargo shipping companies as a one-man fumigating service. Then he went on very quickly as if he didn’t like what he had to say next, and I’m sure lie didn’t.
“We don’t know what happened. They may have betrayed themselves by some careless action. I don’t think so, they were too good for that. Some member of the prize crew may just have stumbled over their hiding-place. Again it’s unlikely, and a man who stumbled over Baker and Delmont wouldn’t be doing any more stumbling for some time to come. Calvert thinks, and I agree with him, that by the one unpredictable chance in ten thousand, the prize crew’s radio-operator happened to be traversing Baker and Delmont’s wave-band at the very moment they were sending their fifteen second transmission. At that range he’d about have his head blasted off and the rest was inevitable.
“A plot of the Nantesville’s fixes between dawn and the last transmission showed her course as 082° true. Predicted destination – Loch Houron. Estimated time of arrival – sunset. Calvert had less than a third of the Nantesville’s distance to cover. But he didn’t take the Firecrest into Loch Houron because he was pretty sure that Captain Imrie would recognise a radio beacon transmitter when he saw one and would assume that we had his course. Calvert was also pretty sure that if the Nantesville elected to continue on that course — and he had a hunch that it would – any craft found in the entrance to Loch Houron would receive pretty short shrift, either by being run down or sunk by gunfire. So he parked the Firecrest in Torbay and was skulking around the entrance to Loch Houron in a frogman’s suit and with a motorised rubber dinghy when the Nantesville turned up. He went aboard in darkness. The name was changed, the flag was changed, one mast was missing and the superstructure had been repainted. But it was the Nantesville.
“Next day Calvert and Hunslett were storm-bound in Torbay but on Wednesday Calvert organised an air search for the Nantesville or some place where she might have been hidden. He made a mistake. He considered it extremely unlikely that the Nantesville would still be in Loch Houron because Imrie knew that we knew that he had been headed there and therefore would not stay there indefinitely, because the chart showed Loch Houron as being the last place in Scotland where anyone in their sane minds would consider hiding a vessel and because, after Calvert had left the Nantesville that evening, she’d got under way and started to move out to Carrara Point. Calvert thought she’d just stayed in Loch Houron till it was dark enough to pass undetected down the Sound of Torbay or round the south of Torbay Island to the mainland. So he concentrated most of his search on the mainland and on the Sound of Torbay and Torbay itself. He thinks now the Nantesville is in Loch Houron. We’re going there to find out.” His cheroot glowed again. “And that’s it, my dear. Now, with your permission, I’d like to spend an hour on the saloon settee. Those nocturnal escapades . . .” He sighed, and finished: “Tm not a boy any longer. I need my sleep.”
I liked that I wasn’t a boy any longer either and I didn’t seem to have slept for months. Uncle Arthur, I knew, always went to bed on the stroke of midnight and the poor man had already lost fifteen minutes. But I didn’t see what I could do about it. One of my few remaining ambitions in life was to reach pensionable age and I couldn’t make a better start than by ensuring that “Uncle Arthur never laid hands on the wheel of the Firecrest.
“But surely that’s not it,” Charlotte protested. “That’s not all of it. Mr. Hunslett, where’s Mr. Hunslett? And you said Mr. Calvert was aboard the Nantesville. How on earth did