The men sprang to obey with alacrity, and were back on the pier in a very few moments. The flashlights and spare batteries were parcelled out. All was in readiness for the advance.
"The firing has been growing more and more distant," said the young naval officer, turning to Jack who stood beside him. "Doesn't it seem so to you?"
"Yes, it does," said Jack. "For several minutes now I have not heard a shot, and the last was very faint."
"From the look of things aboard the trawler, the deserted appearance ashore, and those receding sounds, I suspect the smugglers fled with our friends in pursuit," said Ensign Warwick. "Perhaps, however, they hoped to drive them off, and the crew of the trawler was called ashore to help. If that is the case, our men may be hard pressed. Come, we have taken all the precautions possible here. Let's go."
And with Jack beside him, Bob and Frank close behind and the sailors pressing on their heels, the young naval officer started up the pier.
CHAPTER XXIII
A SIGNAL FROM THE RADIO STATION
No signs of life were apparent as the glare of the searchlight played over the great building, resembling a dock shed in appearance, which bulked on shore at the end of the pier and slightly to one side of it.
No other buildings could be seen, nothing but the steep slope of a summer-browned hill, as, obedient to instructions, Robbins swept the rays of the searchlight over the surroundings.
"Nothing but that great warehouse," said Ensign Warwick to Jack.
"That building seems to me proof positive that this is headquarters for smugglers of Chinese coolies," said Jack. "Probably 'Black George'
housed them there before distributing them to the mainland. The boats from Mexico could run in here at night, discharge their coolies into that barracks, and nobody would be the wiser."
An exclamation from Frank drew their attention.
"Look there."
All gazed in the direction in which Frank pointed. On a shoulder of the hill behind the barracks, full in the glare of the searchlight, stood revealed a radio plant and antenna. Whoever aboard the Sub Chaser was operating the searchlight kept it fixed several minutes on this novel object.
"Not a sign of life there, either," commented the naval officer. "If anybody is around here, he's laying mighty low."
They were close now to the barracks. Long, low, solid-walled with not a window in the sides but with traps in the roofs to admit light and air, it bulked before them-dark, mysterious, forbidding.
At that moment the searchlight ceased its wandering, and the powerful glare came to rest full on the huge sliding doors barring the nearer end. Ensign Warwick turned and held up a hand to indicate he wanted the light kept in that position.
"I hear something," whispered Bob.
All stood immobile and silent, straining to hear. Distinctly there came to their ear a sibilant, whispering sound. It was from the barracks.
"Get out of the light," whispered Ensign Warwick. "Half to each side of the door."
He divided his forces, and all took up their positions. He motioned Bob and the sailor called Doniphan to him.
"You two are the strongest," he whispered. "That door isn't locked. You can see it is in two halves that roll back. Each of you push back one side, being careful to keep the door between yourselves and the interior. We'll crouch on the sides, ready for action if there is anybody within. The searchlight will play right through the doorway and light up the interior. Ready? Then, let's go."
Bob and Doniphan obediently set their shoulders and forearms against the great beams lacing the front of the doors. The latter swayed slightly, then gave. Steadily the two young fellows pushed back the doors, and the light struck through into the dark interior.
A moaning sound went up that rose and rose into an eerie shriek. The hair of the listeners stood on end. Frank and Jack crouching to one side leaned against each other instinctively.
"What's that?"
Bob and Doniphan now had succeeded in pushing the doors fully open. Bob joined his chums who were on his side of the door, Doniphan his comrades on the other. The powerful glare of the searchlight illumined the whole interior. It fell on a huddled group of men in the middle of the great barracks, whose frightened faces shone white and pale in the light. It was from them rose the shriek.
They were Chinese.
"Coolies. Smuggled coolies, as I live," exclaimed Ensign Warwick, "and scared stiff."
No wonder. With those doors opening so mysteriously, that strange light coming from the darkness, brighter than the noonday sun, searching out every nook of the interior, and with not a human being in sight, it was no wonder, indeed, that the ignorant coolies were frightened.
"Poor devils," commented the naval officer to Jack. "I have nothing against them. They are good enough fellows in their own surroundings, but have been made the pawns of these smugglers."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try to talk to them. Do the rest of you line up on each side of the doorway."
With that he stepped into the open.
"Who speaks English?" he called clearly.
The big group swayed a little, as if its members were ready to fly apart and break into flight. In a moment a Chinaman in civilian clothes, as distinguished from the sort of convict's uniform of dark blue pants and blouse worn by the others, stepped a pace or two forward. He moved unwillingly, but evidently was awed by the appearance of the naval officer in uniform.
"Me speakee Englis," he said. "Me Cholly Lung."
"All right, Charley Lung. I am an officer of the Navy. Out there is a great big warship. You keep these men quiet and nothing will happen to them. But if they make trouble the cannon will blow this building to pieces. You understand? You tell them that."
"Me unnastan'. Me tell 'em."
A quick jabber in Chinese followed, as Charley Lung faced his unfortunate compatriots.
"Allee boy sclared," Charley Lung declared, facing about. "No maken tlouble. What shall do?"
"Send each man to his bunk. Tell them to stay there."
Again the quick patter of Chinese on Charley's part. The coolies, some fifty in number, scampered away, diving headlong into the bunks lining the walls. Then the Ensign beckoned Charley Lung to him authoritatively.
He asked him a quick series of questions as to the whereabouts of "Black George," his assistants and the crew of the trawler. Charley looked bland. To every question he answered monotonously.
"Me no unnastan'. Me no unnastan'."
"Very well," said Ensign Warwick grimly. "You come with me. I think you do know."
Turning to Doniphan, he said:
"Doniphan, mount guard here. Get a rifle from the boat. We'll wait until you return. Tell Robbins to keep the searchlight playing in here, and explain why."
Doniphan was back in a very short time.