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The Great Airship

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW

BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY

BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO

[Illustration: "AIRSHIP IN SIGHT, SIR!"

_Page_ 180

_Frontispiece_]




The Great Airship

A Tale of Adventure

BY

LT.-COL. F. S. BRERETON


Author of "A Boy of the Dominion" "The Hero of Panama" "On the Field of
Waterloo" "John Bargreave's Gold" &c.


_Illustrated by C. M. Padday_

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW

       *       *       *       *       *

By Lt.-Col. F. S. Brereton


On the Field of Waterloo.
The Great Airship.
With the Allies to the Rhine.
Under French's Command.
Colin the Scout.
With Allenby in Palestine.
A Hero of Panama.
Foes of the Red Cockade.
Under the Chinese Dragon.
A Sturdy Young Canadian.
How Canada was Won.
John Bargreave's Gold.
With Shield and Assegai.
With Rifle and Bayonet.
In the King's Service.
The Dragon of Pekin.
One of the Fighting Scouts.
A Knight of St. John.
Roger the Bold.
The Rough Riders of the Pampas.
Indian and Scout.
The Great Aeroplane.
Tom Stapleton.
A Boy of the Dominion.

_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_




Contents


CHAP.                                                      Page

I. THE FAME OF THE ZEPPELIN                                   9

II. ANDREW PROVOST'S RESOLUTION                              25

III. DICKY HAMSHAW, MIDSHIPMAN                               42

IV. THE GREAT AIRSHIP                                        58

V. A TOUR OF INSPECTION                                      77

VI. CARL REITBERG, SPORTSMAN                                 94

VII. EN ROUTE FOR ADRIANOPLE                                111

VIII. THE BESIEGED CITY                                     126

IX. DICK HAMSHAW SAVES THE SITUATION                        144

X. A THRILLING RESCUE                                       166

XI. SOME FACTS AND FIGURES                                  187

XII. CARL ABOARD THE BIPLANE                                203

XIII. TO THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER                            222

XIV. A BRUSH WITH PATHANS                                   243

XV. THE GREAT ATTEMPT                                       260

XVI. RECORD HIGH FLYING                                     277

XVII. A DESPERATE SITUATION                                 297

XVIII. OFF TO NEW GUINEA                                    313

XIX. SAVED FROM THE NATIVES                                 331

XX. ADOLF FRUHMANN'S VENTURE                                349




Illustrations


                                                    Facing Page
"AIRSHIP IN SIGHT, SIR!"                           Frontispiece

ARRIVED WITH A BUMP FACING COMMANDER JACKSON                 80

THE COLLAPSE OF CARL REITBERG                               272

THE QUARTET SET OUT FOR THE AIRSHIP                         320




THE GREAT AIRSHIP




CHAPTER I

The Fame of the Zeppelin


There are exceptions, we suppose, to almost every rule, and this
particular Friday towards the end of June was such an exception. It was
fine. Not a cloud flecked the sun-lit sky. A glorious blue expanse hung
over a sea almost as blue, but criss-crossed in all directions by the
curling white tops of tiny wavelets, all that remained to remind one of
the atrocious weather which had prevailed. For the North Sea, Europe,
Great Britain, everywhere in fact, had been treated to a succession of
violent gales, to a continuous deluge of rain, to bitter hail, and
squalls of snow in some parts. And here and now, off the mouth of the
river Elbe the sun shone, the sky was a delight, a balmy breeze fanned
the cheeks of the passengers crowding the decks of the Hamburg-Amerika
liner.

"What a change! I began to wonder whether there was such a season as
summer. Have a cigar?"

Mr. Andrew Provost drew from an inner pocket of his jacket a
silver-mounted case, pulled the lid off and offered one of the contents
to his nephew.

"Not that one, Joe," he said, as the young man beside him placed his
long fingers on one of the weeds. "It's Dutch. Not that they're not good
smokes; I like 'em sometimes. But give me a Havana, and offer one to
your friends. There! That one! You'll like it."

"Thanks! I know 'em, Uncle. You always give me your best."

There was a smile on the handsome face of the young man as he obeyed the
directions of his Uncle Andrew. It was obvious indeed from their smiles,
the manner in which they paced the deck arm in arm, and from the
intimacy of their conversation, that the two were on the best of terms.
And why not? They were related, as we have stated. Then they had for
long been separated. Mr. Andrew Provost had not always been the
comfortable-looking individual he now appeared. For prosperous and
comfortable he looked without a doubt. Florid and sunburned, with white
hair and moustache which made his complexion seem to be even more ruddy,
he was tall, and slight, and gracefully if not robustly built. There was
something of a military air about him, and we whisper the truth when we
say that he was often enough taken for an old soldier, much to his own
secret gratification. Dark grey eyes looked out genially from a smiling
face upon the world and his fellows. His forehead was hardly seamed.
Care, in fact, seemed to have failed in its effort to reach him, or,
more likely perhaps, his genial, plucky nature had caused it to fall
easily from his shoulders. For the rest he was exceedingly well groomed,
and looked what he was, a prosperous, healthy gentleman.

"But it wasn't always like that, Joe," he told his companion, as they
paced the deck, basking in the sun. "Your Uncle Andrew wasn't always the
stylish dog he looks now. Not by a long way. I've been on my beam ends."

"Ah! Exactly."

"Know what that means?"

"To a certain extent. When you came home last Christmas I was down in
the dumps. Absolutely on my beam ends."

Andrew Provost turned to look with some astonishment at his nephew. He
inspected him critically from the top of his glossy Homburg hat to the
well-polished brown shoes which he wore. And the face finally drew all
his attention.

"Impossible!" he declared politely. "Joe on his beam ends! Joe in the
dumps--never!"

"True as possible, sir--I was desperate," repeated Joe, his face grave
for that moment.

"Well, well, perhaps so. I'm forgetting. I was young like you when I was
down. Young fellows make light of such matters. It's as well, perhaps,
or the world wouldn't go along half so easily. But I'd never have
thought it, Joe. You never said a word to me; you look so jolly."

No one would have denied the fact. Joe Gresson looked what he was, a
handsome, jovial fellow of twenty-seven. Fair and tall, and broader than
his uncle, he had deep-set eyes which gave to his smiling face an air of
cleverness. And the young fellow was undoubtedly clever. An engineer by
profession, he had graduated at Cambridge, had passed through the shops,
the drawing office, and other departments of one of the biggest
engineering concerns in England, and had finally struck out a line for
himself. He had been experimenting for the past four years.

"What's the good of being miserable because things don't go right,
Uncle?" he said with a smile. "I've told you how I took up engineering.
Well, I thought I had a good idea. I left the shops at Barrow and worked
on my own. Thanks to the few thousands I possessed I was able to carry
out some important experiments."

"Ah, my boy! Well, you succeeded?"

"Yes and no; I went so far with the work that I was sure that success
was possible. Then there was an accident. The whole affair was wrecked,
and I woke up to find myself without funds and in a terrible condition
of despair."

"On your beam ends, in fact--well, like me," said Mr. Andrew. "I'll tell
you about myself; then you'll give your yarn. I'll have to hear what
this work was. But my tale don't take long. Let's step up and down again
and I'll give it to you. Let's see--yes, I was a fiery, unmanageable
young idiot."

"Never!" interjected Joe.

"Like many other young fellows," proceeded Andrew, as if he had not been
interrupted. "I bluntly refused the post which my father offered me, and
cut away from home. I went to Canada, worked my way out aboard the
steamer, a cockleshell in those days, and half starved for the next few
months, for it was in the winter and there was no work to be had. But I
learned something. In the six months which followed my landing I acted
as a cook's boy, a porter, a fireman, and a clerk in a grocery store.
That's where I had my eyes opened. The country was opening up. I had
saved a few dollars. I set up a store of my own in one of the nearest
settlements, a mere hut knocked together with the help of a hammer and
some nails. But it paid. I saved all along. I built a real brick house,
and the sales went up like wildfire. Then I chose a manager and opened
up a second store away in the nearest settlement. It went on after that
almost by itself. I got to own a hundred stores. I bought property right
and left. Then I sold out. Now I'm merely an idler, come home to take a
long look round. On my beam ends one day, you see; up and prosperous in
the years that followed. Now, my boy, let's hear your yarn. Hallo,
what's the excitement? People are crushing over to the far side of the
ship."

The two had been so engaged in conversation that they had not noticed
the exodus of the other passengers, and now awoke to find themselves the
only tenants of that side of the deck. Arm in arm still they hurried
round the long deck cabin to join their fellow passengers. They found
them massed together on the starboard side, crushing towards the rails,
and for the most part with their eyes cast aloft.

"Wonderful! Marvellous! Extraordinary!" were some of the remarks they
overheard, emanating from the English people present. From the many
foreigners there came guttural cries of delight and shouts almost of
triumph.

"What is it? What's the fuss?" asked Mr. Andrew eagerly, craning his
head and looking aloft. "I can see nothing to cause such excitement."

"Nothing, mein Herr! Is that nothing--no?" asked a stumpy little
passenger against whom Andrew was leaning, twisting his portly frame
round with an effort. He shot a short, plump arm above his head, and
held a stumpy finger aloft. "Nothing?" he asked indignantly. "You call
that nothing at all, mein Herr? It is marvellous! It is magnificent!"

"But--but, what is? I--I--er--beg your pardon," said Andrew politely,
"but really I can't----"

"Look, Uncle," cried Joe sharply, pointing upwards himself. "It's a
little hard to see perhaps. That's what they aim at, of course. But
there's an airship there--a Zeppelin."

"Ah!" gasped Andrew, while the stumpy little foreigner, who had now
contrived to twist himself entirely round, stared angrily at him. Then a
broad, beaming smile of pride seamed his face, a fat, good-natured face
to be sure, while the light of recognition danced in his eyes.

"Ah! Mr. Andrew Provost," he exclaimed in thick but urbane tones. "We
have met again. This is fortunate. But you see now; you see the German
triumph. You see the Zeppelin with which they have conquered the air.
Ah, it is magnificent!"

Andrew had scarcely time to shake his hand and recognize this plump
little person. He was vastly impressed at the sight some four thousand
feet above him, and away to the left. He could have shouted with delight
himself. The object, in fact, claimed his whole attention.

"A Zeppelin!" he cried. "A real Zeppelin! One of Germany's air
dreadnoughts--magnificent!"

It was magnificent. Seldom yet have Englishmen had the opportunity of
seeing one of those leviathans of the air. At a period when balloons
have become common objects in the sky, when the whole world almost has
become accustomed to aeroplanes scooping through the air, the people of
most countries are still strangers to the sight of a mighty airship
swimming in space. And there was one, a long, sinuous hull of neutral
colour, so that even in broad daylight it was not too easily visible,
floating horizontally in the sky, like some gigantic cigar, while fore
and aft, immediately beneath the hull, were two boat-shaped objects, a
little darker than the mass above supporting them. There was the dull
hum of machinery too.

"Moving along slowly," gasped Andrew, still wonderstruck at such a
sight. "What's she doing?"

"Finishing a continuous run of twenty-four hours and more," declared the
little stranger, whom we will now introduce as Mr. Carl Reitberg. "Just
showing us how fresh she is, and how easy the task has been," he cried
in tones of the utmost pride. "See! She has more to show us. She has
taken in fuel from the steamer yonder, and could sail again for another
twenty-four hours. But she wishes to experiment with her bombs. Look,
mein Herr! There is a float down below her. She will pulverize it. She
will smash it. She will drop a bomb plumb into it, and, piff! it is
gone. That, mein Herr, is the work of the latest Zeppelin."

Perhaps a thousand passengers crowded the rails and watched the monster
of the air, and it was as Mr. Reitberg had so proudly announced. The
Zeppelin was manoeuvring away from the Hamburg-Amerika liner. Ahead of
her, some five miles to the east, was a dot upon the ocean. Andrew swung
his glasses to his eyes and fixed them upon that object.

"A float of some sort--yes," he said. "She is motoring towards it. Then
she will stop above it."

"No--not at all," declared Mr. Reitberg. "She will continue at her
fastest pace. Yet she will strike it. Watch. See--ah! Did I not say so?
It is marvellous! There!"

Was it imagination? Andrew fancied he saw a small, dark object fall from
one of the boat-shaped cars beneath the long Zeppelin. In a twinkling he
swung his glasses down upon the float half-immersed in the sea below.
Then a loud detonation reached his ears, while the float disappeared
miraculously, the sea being churned up and splashed all about it. Nor
was that all. There came from the ship above a succession of sharp
reports, while bullets of large size struck the sea immediately over
the spot where the float had been. Then another object dropped from the
airship. It burst into flames within two hundred feet of leaving the
hand which had projected it, and almost at once sent out a vast,
spreading mass of dense smoke, that spread and spread and spread till
the sky was obscured, till the airship was utterly hidden.

Mr. Carl Reitberg chuckled aloud, and danced with delight.

"Magnificent! Cunning! The latest thing!" he declared. "You see the
reason, Mr. Provost? No; then I will tell you. The ship, the air
dreadnought, you understand, discovers an enemy's ship, or shall we say
the enemy's war harbour, or arsenal, or magazine, or what you will? She
sails above it. She drops a bomb. Then, piff! the thing is done. The
ship is destroyed; the harbour is wrecked; the magazine explodes. Men
rush to and fro in panic--those who are left. For some are poisoned.
Yes, some die not from the effects of the explosion, but because the
airship has dropped also chemical bombs which burst and spread poisonous
fumes everywhere. But men are left, we will allow. There are gunners
there. They rush to the aerial guns. They load them; they attempt to
take aim. But--where is the ship? Gone? No--but where? The sky is all
smoke. There is no sign of her. She is invisible. _Nicht wahr?_ It is
too late; all the damage is done. The Zeppelin escapes to wreck more
ships, more harbours, more magazines."

He puffed out his stout little chest, gazed aloft at the dense and
spreading cloud of smoke, and waved his hands excitedly.

"It is magnificent!" he repeated for perhaps the tenth time. "It is a
triumph! None can approach it. Many have watched and scorned the idea.
Count Zeppelin has persevered. Germany has backed his efforts, and now,
_voila_!--there is the result. Triumph! The conquest of the air. Mastery
of the upper element; with none to gainsay us."

"But--but there are limits to the power of these ships," suggested
Andrew, his words almost faltering. "There are limits to their range of
travel."

Mr. Carl Reitberg put one fat finger artfully to the side of his nose.
It was perhaps a little peculiarity he had picked up in England, for we
hasten to explain that he was cosmopolitan. Carl Reitberg had spent many
of his fifty-three years in South Africa. There he had enjoyed the
protection of the Union Jack. He had a house in London now, and one also
at Brighton. It may be said that he had made his fortune, thanks to his
own astuteness and the opportunities given him by our British colonies.
But he was not English. He was not entirely German. He belonged to the
world. One day he was resident in Berlin, a second found him in London
or in Brighton, while as likely as not the following weeks saw him
parading the Champs Élysées in Paris, the Boulevards of Buenos Ayres,
the streets of Mexico, or Broadway, New York. In fact, and in short, he
was cosmopolitan.

"Limits, mein Herr!" he cried, still in those tones of pride, still
dancing on his toes. "None! That ship can sail continuously over a
thousand miles. Her wireless telegraph will reach within a hundred miles
of that distance. She can manoeuvre easily over a ship at sea and take
in further supplies. She is, in short, a cruiser. Do you wish to sail in
luxury to St. Petersburg? Hire, then, a Zeppelin. Do you desire to
escape _mal de mer_? Call for one of these huge airships and sail for
London. Do you fancy the conquest of some island kingdom? Mr. Provost,
you are rich; buy one of the air dreadnoughts and blow your enemies sky
high."

Andrew took his eyes from the spreading cloud of smoke overhead and
glanced at the excited orbs of the little fellow. Then he looked at his
nephew. And we tell but the truth when we say that his own eyes were
troubled.

"It is magnificent, but it is terrible," he said slowly. "Terrible for
those who have no aerial dreadnoughts. Yes, terrible. Their danger is
greater than I could ever have imagined. And you say that these
Zeppelins stand alone. There are no others?"

"None. But wait. Yes, there are others, also German. There are the
Parseval, the semi-rigid ships of the air," said Mr. Reitberg with a
truculent smile. "There are also the Gross ships; but the Zeppelins are
infinitely superior. Elsewhere there are none. France, what are her
ships? Russia, poof! we will not waste breath in discussing them.
England--mein Herr, she has the Alpha, the Beta, and the Gamma, mere
toy airships. They do not count."

There was a wide smile on his face now. Andrew winced at his words;
there were even beads of perspiration on his forehead, while lines had
knit themselves across his brow.

"You say that England has no such ships. Then she can build them, must
build them," he said.

"Must--yes! But can she? Impossible!" Mr. Carl Reitberg looked his pity.
"Impossible!" he repeated, while Andrew wiped his perspiring brow.

"I think not--hardly impossible, mein Herr," came in quiet tones from
Joe, a silent witness of all that had been passing.

"Eh! Not impossible? You think that a bigger Gamma would suffice? You
think that England could build such a ship as this Zeppelin without
experiment, without numerous failures--all, we will say, within a year?"

"I am sure."

"Sure! You joke. The thing cannot be done; I know England. Men are
clever there, but they have not studied these airships: they are
ignorant."

"Not quite--I disagree. In six months, in three, perhaps, such a ship as
sails above us could be erected; but better, with more power, a wider
range, and a greater capacity for destruction."

Mr. Carl Reitberg gasped; he pulled an elegant silk handkerchief from
his pocket and mopped his forehead. He was beginning to get annoyed
with the calm, not to say idiotic, assurance of this young man. He
looked Joe Gresson superciliously up and down, and then smiled urbanely.

"You are young," he said. "When you arrive at my age you will see your
error. I, who know, say that such a thing is impossible."

"And I, Herr Reitberg, while thanking you, say that it can be done. It
has been done, on a smaller scale. To-morrow, or let us say within three
months, England could possess an aerial dreadnought superior to any
Zeppelin. I am positive."

The smile left Mr. Reitberg's face. He looked at Joe as if he thought
him mad. As for Andrew, at first he had watched his nephew with every
sign of surprise, if not of disapproval. But now he smacked him on the
back encouragingly.

"Bravo, Joe!" he cried. "Stick to your guns. You say England could build
such a ship. Well, she's tried?"

"Yes; the Admiralty tried through their contractors, and failed."

"Ah, failed, yes!" lisped Mr. Reitberg. "So did Zeppelin. But he carried
on his experiments; he succeeded. Your people did no more."

"Others took on the work."

Joe returned the looks of his two companions firmly. "And succeeded," he
added.

"Who? You?" demanded Andrew eagerly.

"Yes; I did."

"Then I'd back you to do as you say. You declare that you could erect
such a ship as we have just lost sight of, but better, with greater
powers of movement, with greater range?"

"Certainly."

"Then why has mein Herr not done so?" asked Mr. Reitberg, with a lift of
his eyebrows and outspread hands. He was the essence, in fact, of polite
incredulity.

"I did on a small scale; then funds failed."

"Ah, yes! they always do, fortunately, mein Herr. Then your experiments
are ended. This ship is but a creation of your brain. It must remain so;
for funds are done with."

There was sarcasm in the voice. Andrew Provost resented the tone. He had
never liked Mr. Reitberg overmuch, though they had met in more than one
country and had dined together frequently. Besides, it roused his gorge
to feel that here was an example of British ineptitude. He knew his
nephew well enough by now, knew him to be a young man worth trusting. If
he said he could do this thing, then he could.

"By Jingo, I'll give him the opportunity!" he cried. "Joe, how much'd it
cost?"

"One hundred thousand pounds, perhaps. Not more; very likely a great
deal less."

"And within three months? Well, let us say, within six months?" asked
Mr. Reitberg incredulously. "Impossible! The money would be wasted. A
ship be built in that time, by men inexperienced in such work, a ship,
moreover, of almost unlimited range! You are dreaming, sir!"

Joe Gresson might have been excused if he had lost his temper. Instead,
he smiled at the little foreigner. "I am all seriousness," he said. "If
I had the means I would erect this ship, and prove her capacity to you.
She would sail where you wished; no part of the earth would be too far
for her."

"And I back him up in what he says. What this young fellow cares to
declare as in his power I feel is not impossible. Now, Mr. Reitberg,"
cried Andrew with no little warmth, "I'll stand by him."

Mr. Reitberg did nothing in a hurry. It was his very slowness which had
sometimes proved his success. But this discussion irritated him. He
liked to feel that the Zeppelin was beyond all attempts at imitation. He
considered that Joe was mad, or suffering from too great a shock of
confidence. In any case, it seemed to him that what he described as
possible was hopelessly out of the question. He tucked his short neck
deep into his collar, screwed his head on one side, and then began to
smile urbanely.

"Well, well," he said at last. "One hundred thousand pounds. What is it
to me, or to you, Mr. Provost? Build this airship. Prove her to be
better than a Zeppelin. Sail her round the world and then return to
England. If you do all this, say within nine months of this date, then I
return the cost of the venture. Is that a bargain?"

"Done!" shouted Andrew. "I'll back the boy. I'll find the money for him.
If we succeed within nine months, then the loss is yours. The ship
remains ours, while you pay for it. Let us step into the cabin. We'll
draft out a form of agreement. When that's signed we'll set to in
earnest."

It took but a half-hour to complete this necessary preliminary, so that
when they returned on deck again the huge cloud of smoke had
disappeared, while the Zeppelin was again in sight, a mere speck in the
distance.

"Like that, but better, faster, stronger, with greater range," said
Andrew, pointing up at her.

"Quite so--the impossible!" smiled Mr. Reitberg. "Do not blame me if you
fail, Mr. Provost. I hate taking other people's money, or running anyone
into large expense. Good luck to you!"

They shook hands on leaving the steamer at Southampton and parted. Joe
and his uncle took train for London, and that same evening found them
seated before the window of their private room at the hotel quietly
discussing the exciting future before them.




CHAPTER II

Andrew Provost's Resolution


Andrew Provost was not the man to shirk his liabilities, or to shrink
from an undertaking however difficult it might appear, and however
impetuous he may have been in his decision.

"No, siree," he exclaimed, sipping his after-dinner coffee, and then
pulling at a big cigar. "No, my boy, I ain't the one to back out, you
bet. That fellow Reitberg got my monkey up with his sneers and his crows
about those German Zeppelins. Boy and man I've lived under the Union
Jack, and what folks can do elsewhere, why, they can do 'em as well
where I've lived. Fire in at that agreement, Joe."

For the moment he had allowed a decided Yankee drawl to betray the
country from which he had so recently come, for in Canada they speak
much as they do in America, though the drawl and the accent are not so
accentuated. It showed that Andrew was stirred. In moments of excitement
he always developed a drawl; but if excited, he was also practical.

"Read that document, Joe?" he asked again. "Mind you, I admit that there
are many of my old friends who would call me a fool over this
business."

"Impossible, Uncle!" his nephew interrupted.

"Fiddlesticks, my boy! No offence, mind; but look at this matter
squarely. How do we stand? It's like this. We're aboard a
Hamburg-Amerika liner. We see a Zeppelin, and get a fine display, all
free and for nothing. We run up against a fat little fellow named
Reitberg, who's neither German nor English, nor anything in particular.
Anyway, he's made his money like me under the Union Jack. Well, now, he
crows about that ship, says there's not another nation could build one.
Gets riled too, when you say that England could, that you yourself
could. Shows plainly, though with some amount of politeness, that he
don't believe you, and then gets to crowing again. Isn't that enough to
put up a Britisher's back? Eh?"

"Well, it wasn't very pleasant certainly, rather riling. Made one
wince."

"Wince! Squirm! Look here, Joe, I never liked being beaten. If I did I'd
never have got to the position I have. I'd have been still running that
small store away outside Toronto, with its tin roof and its walls
tintacked together. It's because I didn't like being beaten that I'm not
there. And I don't like to think that Britishers are beaten. When you
said that you could build an airship better than a Zeppelin I believed
you."

"Awfully kind of you, too, Uncle," Joe declared, gratitude lending
unusual warmth to his tones.

"It _was_ mighty kind," came the half-smiling answer. "Then and there I
let myself into an expenditure of a hundred thousand pounds, and all
because I couldn't stand that fellow Reitberg's crowing, and, from a
mighty long experience, had confidence in my own countrymen. You'd said
that you could do it--that was enough for me. But it's very small reason
for such an expenditure when you come to look plainly at it. No offence,
Joe, mind that. You're my nephew; I've heard big things about you, and
if you've said you can succeed, why you shall. Your Uncle Andrew'll help
you."

They shook hands on it, exchanging a firm grip. But it must be allowed
that Andrew was really only putting the true facts before his nephew.
After all, what hard-headed business man--and Andrew was that if
anything--would promise such a huge sum simply because a nephew had
declared that he could build a ship of similar class to a Zeppelin, that
is, one lighter than air, but more powerful, more perfect, in every way
more desirable? Why, the fat, comfortable-looking Mr. Reitberg was even
then detailing the incident to a few of his cronies who were seated in
the smoking-room of his luxurious town house. There were five of them
present, none of whom would again see a fiftieth birthday,
comfortable-looking gentlemen, robustly built, running to fat if we were
asked for a concise description. They discussed the matter in English,
though all betrayed some accent. In fact, they had without exception
been foreigners, only three at least were naturalized Englishmen.

"It made me laugh afterwards," declared Mr. Reitberg, sitting up, and
withdrawing his cigar from between a pair of short, stumpy, fat
fingers. "You've met Andrew Provost?"

They had: all nodded. "From Canada--stores," said Mr. Julius Veldtheim
laconically. "Rich man--very."

"Said to be one of the wealthiest," added Mr. Herman Schloss, puffing a
cloud of smoke in the direction of the table bearing decanters and
glasses.

"Has a reputation for sagacity. Buys heavily from us," ventured a third,
whose name is of no consequence.

"And yet laid himself open to an expenditure of a hundred thousand
pounds--one hundred thousand pounds, gentlemen, on the word of a young
nephew who, whatever his merits, won't languish for want of
self-confidence."

"Ah! How? Why? He had a reason. Provost always has a reason. He's
sharp."

The questioner looked languidly across at Mr. Reitberg, and smiled as
that complacent gentleman smiled. He chuckled even. "I'll tell you," he
said, turning to them all. "There was a Zeppelin overheard as we crossed
from Hamburg. Well, its manoeuvring was wonderful. Provost was amazed.
He began to think that he would feel queer in this country if one were
to sail overhead. You see, this one dropped bombs, so we were able to
watch the actual thing that will occur in war. It frightened Provost. He
wondered why they hadn't any here. I told him."

"Ah! Why?"

"Because they can't build 'em. No one can."

"You are sure?" asked Mr. Veldtheim.

"Positive; I said so plainly. Provost got quite hot at the news. But his
nephew declared he could build one, that he had done so. Well, you know,
I could see what it was. I smiled; the young fellow's confidence was
really too pronounced. But Provost was too riled to notice. 'He says he
can build one. Then he can and will,' he sings out. 'I'll pay.'"

"Ah! One hundred thousand pounds," lisped Mr. Veldtheim.

"Yes, one hundred thousand pounds. 'You'll lose it all,' I told him, or
rather, I intimated that as politely as was possible. 'You'll never
succeed. I'm so positive, that if you do, and build a ship which can
sail round the world, all within nine months of this, why, I'll pay the
bill.'"

"Bravo!" cried Mr. Veldtheim. "Your money's safe. Zeppelins aren't built
in nine months, even by those who know all about 'em."

That seemed to be the general opinion of the company present. In fact,
one and all looking at the matter from their own point of view
considered that Andrew Provost had been guilty of a species of madness.

"Better by far hand his nephew a handsome cheque and have done with the
matter," observed Mr. Veldtheim. "It'd be easier and cheaper."

But, as we have intimated already, Andrew Provost was made of stubborn
material. Also, he had seen sufficient of Joe during their travels on
the Continent since his coming from Canada to assure him that he was
not overstocked with confidence. Or rather, to assure him that he was a
clever, painstaking fellow, who seldom declared his powers, but who,
when induced to do so, never overshot the mark. Consequently, when he
said that Mr. Reitberg was misinformed, Andrew Provost believed him. But
a statement was one thing; hard facts another.

"Just get to and read that agreement between Reitberg and myself," he
said again. "Then tell me all about this ship of yours. Recollect, I've
never seen it, nor heard of it either."

"Pardon, you've heard of it," said Joe shortly.

"Eh, heard of it? Come!"

"A year ago. There was a scare in England," Joe reminded him. "There was
even an airship scare in Germany. The papers were full of reports.
Brilliant lights had been seen in the sky. The noise of aerial motors
was heard. It was feared in England that a foreign spy was manoeuvring
over our magazines and arsenals."

Andrew looked sharply at his nephew over the rim of his cup. "Airship
scare? Yes, I remember; the papers in Canada were full of it--well?"

"That was my ship. People said that a mistake had been made; that folks
had imagined the ship. They said the same in Germany. But it wasn't
imagination: it was a real ship, the one I had built."

"And--and what became of it?" gasped Andrew--for this was news--"Why
didn't you sell it to the War Office authorities?"

Joe smiled. "War Office authorities! Know 'em?" he asked.

"Never met them--why?"

"They're too slow for words," declared Joe, laughing. "I'll tell you
about them. I went there, to the War Office. I got lost in the place,
it's so vast and has such huge lengths of corridor. And I'm inclined to
believe that the folks who work there get lost. Anyway, they couldn't
for an hour or more direct me to the department likely to have some
knowledge of airships. But I reached it at last and told my tale."

"Ah! You got home. Then, what happened! They sent right off to
investigate."

"The official who interviewed me, and who had, I imagine, as much
knowledge of airships as I have of turnips, informed me that he was
vastly interested and would put the matter before the authorities and
communicate with me. I left my address; I waited; I got tired of
waiting."

"What! How many days?"

"Six weeks. I wrote reminding them of my visit."

"Gosh! Six weeks! Then, what happened?"

"They sent a formal acknowledgment--the matter was having their
consideration."

Andrew Provost leaped from his chair and stood facing Joe, biting his
cigar fiercely. "You mean to tell me that that's the treatment you
received? That I might expect the same to-morrow if I went to the War
Office with a brilliant invention?" he demanded hotly. "Do you mean to
say that I'd as likely as not be interviewed by a fellow who knew next
to nothing about the matter, and that weeks would elapse before I heard
from 'em again, and then only after sending 'em a reminder?"

Joe laughed. "That was my experience," he said. "I dare say others meet
with the same. Tantalizing, eh, Uncle?"

"Tantalizing be hanged! If that's the sort of thing that happens, then
the sooner the crowd inside that office is hauled out and booted the
better. Guess live men are wanted--folks who can earn their pay--not
dolls and dullards. But let's leave 'em. Tell me about the ship--go on."

"She was wrecked; a violent gale sprang up."

"Ah! Usual thing. That's the weak part about those Zeppelins," said
Andrew. "They're unmanageable in a wind. A half-dozen and more of them
have been wrecked; so you suffered in the same way."

"No! The gale wrecked my hangar; it was flimsily put together. That was
the fault of having small funds. As to Zeppelins, I know that they have
that particular weakness. Wait till you see my designs. I'm not afraid
of a gale, and can manoeuvre into my hangar when gusts are blowing at
fifty miles an hour. Fact, Uncle! You'll see when we've finished."

Andrew Provost strode backwards and forwards before the wide-open window
of the hotel. He was thinking deeply, and more than once he cast a
shrewd, sharp glance at his nephew. This long-headed man was a little
uneasy. And who can blame him? For, in the first place, solely on the
strength of Joe's assertion, and because Mr. Reitberg had riled him, he
had taken up a challenge. And now he heard his nephew declare that a
fifty-mile gale was of no consequence, though to a Zeppelin airship it
would prove easily disastrous. Was Joe romancing? Or was he so carried
away by this work of his that his imagination made successes where they
did not exist?

"No; certainly not. He looks and is clever. If he says gusts don't
matter, they don't," thought Andrew, after another sharp look at his
nephew. "What appears difficult to believe may very well be simple when
one has seen his designs. Here, Joe," he cried. "We get drifting on; do
read that document, then show me your plans. I'll pay a cheque for ten
thousand pounds into your account to-morrow, and then you'll be able to
go ahead. Now, the document."

Joe picked it up from the table on which it was resting. Unfolding the
sheet, he disclosed at the top the arms of the Hamburg-Amerika Steamship
Company, and in the right-hand corner the name of the ship they had so
recently left. The date was scrawled in a firm hand beneath it, and then
there appeared the following words: "I, Andrew Provost, of Park St.,
Toronto, Canada, and of 29 Fenchurch St., London, England, guarantee to
build with the help of my nephew, Joseph Gresson, and others whom I may
appoint, an airship similar to the well-known Zeppelin; that is to say,
when inflated with gas the said ship shall be lighter than air. It
shall be capable of lifting not less than thirty tons, of progressing
against a wind at more than sixty miles an hour, and of traversing the
world in any direction, keeping in the air for that purpose as long as
shall be necessary, though she may be allowed to descend to the land for
necessary supplies, renewals, and repairs. Should I succeed with the
help abovementioned in building a ship capable of all this, and of
circling the world, and should that voyage be completed within nine
months of this date, then Carl Eugene Reitberg, of 42 Park Lane, London,
England, guarantees to pay the full cost of the building of the said
ship, and of her voyage, but not exceeding in all one hundred thousand
pounds. It is further agreed that a special form of passport shall be
obtained from the Foreign Office, and that the same having been
initialled by the various authorities of the countries over which the
ship may pass in her voyage shall be held to be proof of her voyage."

"Clear as crystal. And you can do it?" asked Andrew.

"Certainly."

"Then let's have the designs. How does your ship beat the Zeppelin?
What's she made of? Tell me everything; remember I'm ignorant. I just
know that an aeroplane is a heavier-than-air machine, and a Zepplin's a
lighter-than-air; that is, once she's inflated with gas. Fire away. I'm
dying to get in at the actual building."

Joe was a practical young fellow, and was not to be hastened. He
unlocked a leather bag lying near his feet and abstracted a sheet of
glistening paper. Spreading it out on the table, he showed his uncle a
big detail drawing of the machine he proposed to construct.

"It's not easy to follow the outline here," he said. "Wait till the
ship's finished. But you can see this much. She's long and pointed at
either end, and looks like a flattened cigar. That's how she differs
from the Zeppelins. She's built very flat, and extends on either side
till the top and bottom half come together in what may be called a
lateral keel."

"Why? Where's the reason?"

"To protect her against gusts of wind and gales. A Zeppelin can't
escape. Every breath plays on her big lateral bulk. In my ship the wind
strikes a thin keel on whichever side it comes, is divided there, and
passes over and under the ship, sliding as it were upwards and downwards
away from the gradually-sloping surfaces which lead from those keels. In
fact, the ship is almost as flat as a tortoise, and as wide
comparatively, though she's very much longer."

"And--and this flattening of the ship makes her laugh at gales?" asked
Andrew, staring at the plans before him.

"Certainly--her shape, and other fittings. Now, let's return to the
Zeppelin. It's a huge framework of aluminium, built very light and
covered with a material of neutral tint."

"Which holds the necessary gas."

"No, Uncle. Which merely covers the aluminium skeleton. Inside the
frame there are twenty or more balloonettes, inflated with gas. Thus if
one bursts, or two, or more even, the ship still floats."

"Canny that! Smart!" declared Andrew. "Well, yours? It's a similar
framework, I suppose? The same balloonettes? Where does the difference
come?"

Joe bent again to his bag and produced a parcel, which he rapidly
opened. He drew from the interior a sheet of shining material, which
might have been glass but for the fact that it was folded half a dozen
times. Placing it on the table, this sheet opened to its full capacity
as soon as the weight of his fingers was removed.

"Flexible and elastic, you see, Uncle," said Joe. "And yet not
extensible. See--it does not stretch. Transparent, of course--one of its
least advantages--but yet one of great value in the construction of an
airship."

"What! You don't mean to tell me you build the ship of that? How? What
part does it form? I--look here, Joe, you're romancing."

Joe smiled; his deep-sunk eyes took on the clever expression, to which
his uncle had become familiar. He placed two long objects on the table,
and stood leaning the tips of his strong fingers upon them. He might
have been a lecturer, and his uncle a student about to absorb his
wisdom. As for the objects he had placed on the table, one was a long
piece of the same transparent material, an eighth of an inch thick,
perhaps, two inches wide before it was bent, and now bent all the way
down its length into a right angle. In fact, composed of iron it would
be known simply as "angle iron". The other object was a tube, perhaps
half an inch in diameter, two feet in length, and of thinner material.
Both were transparent, and exceedingly light in weight, as Andrew
assured himself instantly.

"Go on," he said huskily. "What is the stuff? Not talc--that I can tell
easily. Not celluloid either--you'd never be such a fool as to build a
ship of such a highly inflammable material. That stuff's lighter, also.
What is it?"

But Joe was not yet to be persuaded into an answer. He spread the thin
transparent sheet out, caught the four corners, and taking a jug of
water, poured some of the contents into the centre of the sheet. Not a
drop penetrated it. Joe demonstrated the fact quietly and without show
of haste. Then he stepped to the window and cast the water out. A moment
later he was striking a match.

"Stop! Stop! How do I know that it isn't like celluloid?" cried Andrew
in some alarm. "Supposing it fires. Supposing there's an explosion."

Joe smiled. "It won't," he said curtly. "Look there."

The flame was licking round one of the corners of this thin sheet of
material. It blackened the surface above, while that below, immersed in
the flame, gradually changed colour. It became a dull red, then got
redder and redder till it was glowing. Slowly it changed its form, the
corner curled up into a globule. The latter separated itself from the
sheet and tumbled on to the glass-topped table, where it broke into a
number of smaller drops.

"Glass! No--too light by far. Not celluloid. Not talc. Then what is it?"
demanded Andrew impatiently, taking the various articles and examining
them. "Why, this angle piece is strong--as strong as aluminium!" he
cried.

"Stronger--stronger and tougher," asserted Joe. "You can bend it; it's
flexible. You can bend it double, and still it comes back to its
original formation. Aluminium would crack at once; even steel would.
Now, try the tube. See, it kinks when you bend it, though it requires
some strength to do that. Now, set it on its end on the floor; we'll put
a book on the top end. Sit on the book, Uncle."

Andrew did so--gingerly it must be confessed--for this transparent tube
with its small diameter and its walls less than an eighth of an inch in
thickness looked as if it would at once succumb to his avoirdupois. But
it did not. He sat boldly upon the book now. He balanced himself upon
the frail support and jerked his feet from the ground.

"Jingo!" he cried. "What in thunder is the stuff? It's strong, strong as
possible. Surprisingly powerful stuff. It bends if you use sufficient
force, yet doesn't break. It's tough; you've shown me that, for a knife
edge bites into it with difficulty. Then it softens and melts at a
fairly high temperature, proving that it can be easily treated and
moulded. Well?"

"I call it celludine," said Joe, not without some trace of pride in his
tuneful voice. "I dropped upon the stuff quite by accident, for at the
'Varsity' I was fond of working in a laboratory. Asbestos enters into
its composition, that I can tell you. It is easily manufactured, the
materials of which it is composed are inexpensive. It can be rolled into
plates and bars and drawn into tubes. Better than all, perhaps, when
bars and tubes and angle pieces are being built into a framework rivet
holes can be punched with the simplest pneumatic tool, while the joins
and the rivets can be instantly and securely welded together with an
electric heating iron. Thus every joint becomes a solid piece."

Andrew wiped his forehead--this was something--he even chuckled.

"Reitberg'd have fits," he laughed. "He'd be beginning to get anxious
about that money if he heard what you were saying. But get along. This
stuffs fine. I can see that, and I'm quite a child in such matters."

"Then it is hardly necessary for me to explain that I build my framework
of this celludine. That frame is wonderfully strong, stronger a great
deal than if composed of aluminium, and constructed far more rapidly and
at less cost. It has another advantage Zeppelins have broken up before
now, simply because certain portions of their frames have fractured
under great strain. With this material the flexibility is such that the
frame gives before a strain, grudgingly it is true, but gives without
receiving damage, and instantly returns to its former shape once the
strain is removed. Now let us proceed. I cover the frame with the same
material. It is waterproof and gas-proof. Note that, Uncle. I fashion
partitions of the same material. Thus my balloonettes are formed. There
is no need for the twenty and more balloonettes. All that weight is
removed. There are merely the partitions and the outer covering, and
since celludine is the lightest material of any that I have yet
discovered, you can follow that here I have a material with which I can
make a ship at once lighter than a Zeppelin, though of equal size, while
it is stronger and more flexible. Add the important fact that the whole
thing is transparent."

"Eh? Why? Where does the advantage come?"

It was natural, perhaps, that Andrew should not follow his reasoning so
quickly.

"Imagine the ship to be inflated and in the air," said Joe. "Well, gas
is transparent. So's the framework of the ship. She is invisible almost,
except for engines and gear of a similar description."

This time his uncle mopped his forehead busily. He was glad that he had
taken up that challenge. He was beginning to hope that some day it might
be his turn to gloat over Mr. Reitberg. He could even conjure up the
huge airship which Joe Gresson would build. Facts were in his case far
easier of digestion than any amount of theorizing, and here his nephew
was providing him with facts. As a practical man Andrew could decide
that this celludine was essentially suitable for the building of a
vessel to sail the air. Now he could realize better than ever that
success was possible. But a few hours ago he had been content to take
Joe's mere word for it. His own common sense now supported that belief.
He drew in a series of deep breaths, while he handled the samples before
him. Unconsciously it seemed his hand sought his handkerchief and he
mopped his fevered brow. Then he drew a cheque book from an inner
pocket, seated himself at a desk, and took up a pen.

"Pay Joseph Gresson ten thousand pounds," he wrote, and attached his
signature.

"There," he said, with a beaming smile, smacking his nephew heartily on
the back, "get to at the work, Joe. Call for more when you want it.
Don't stint yourself; spend freely if necessary, for there's no time to
waste. We've got to be up and doing. I'll teach Mr. Reitberg to have a
better respect for Britishers. What others can do, we can. Gosh! We'll
have that ship sailing before he's finished chuckling at our
helplessness."

We leave him then for the moment, filled to the brim with enthusiasm,
while we step aside to introduce a person of no little importance,
namely, Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw, R.N., Dick Hamshaw, lately out of
Dartmouth Naval College, and already known by officers and men as simple
and plain Dicky.




CHAPTER III

Dicky Hamshaw, Midshipman


"Of all the little bantams 'e's it," quoth Able Seaman Hawkins of H.M.S.
_Inflexible_ in a deep, hoarse whisper, leaning over the tiller of the
steam pinnace he was steering to place his thick lips close to the huge
ear of his comrade. "That 'ere shaver's just it all the time and no
mistake about it."

A long tongue of flame shooting out through the stumpy funnel of the
vessel at that precise moment lit up the afterpart, disclosing the fact
that Seaman Hawkins's face was divided by an expansive grin, while Able
Seaman Hurst's rugged and none-too-handsome features seemed to be made
up mostly of two rows of irregular teeth. The short stem of an extremely
black pipe was gripped between those same teeth, while smoke was issuing
from the nostrils. But a second later the pipe was dragged from its
position and found its way with extreme rapidity into a pocket.

"Stop that talking, men! One can't hear. Silence aft!"

The command came in quick, decisive tones, and yet in a voice that
betrayed the youth of the officer. For Dicky Hamshaw was young,
painfully young, we must admit. When he stepped the decks of His
Majesty's battleships no one deplored that fact more than Mr. Midshipman
Hamshaw. It was a defect which time would undoubtedly eradicate, but for
the moment it was annoying, to say the least of it. For ever on the
faces of the tars beneath his immediate command there lurked a queer
demureness, an indefinite something which he could never actually
fathom, but which told him as plainly as words that he was almost an
object of amusement. Not of ridicule, let us explain. No other officer's
orders were obeyed more smartly than those of Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw,
while your British tar is far too jealous of his good name to ridicule
an officer, even if such a thing were not decidedly contrary to
discipline. No; Dicky Hamshaw was very young, and looked younger than
his seventeen and a half years. Not a hair yet adorned his upper lip,
and there was not even a suspicious down budding from the square chin of
which he boasted. He was merely disgustingly young in appearance, tall
and slim and active, and full of a dash and jollity which had long since
captivated the tars.

"Just it--nothing more," repeated Hawkins in a hoarse whisper to Hurst.
"A bantam that's full of fight, and don't you make no mistake about it."

Precisely what "it" meant on this occasion the burly Hawkins did not
stoop to explain, and apparently Hurst needed no enlightenment. He
nodded, expanded his capacious jaws again, and then slowly introduced
the stem of his clay between his strong teeth.

"Stop that smoking aft! There's someone smoking."

Once more the order rang out crisp and clear, and in those very juvenile
tones. Let us say at once that it was Dick's boyish voice, perhaps more
than his youthful appearance, which excited the smiles of his men. But
in any case the crisp tones meant business. Hurst slid his pipe back
into its receptacle with alacrity and grimaced through the gloom at his
comrade.

"And 'e's got a nose," he ventured to Hawkins when a few moments had
elapsed. "Here are we away aft, and you'd have said as all the smoke was
blowed clear away behind us. But Dicky's got a nose for it. Blest if he
couldn't tell you what 'bacca it was. Not ship's I can tell you, mate,
but a bit of cake bought ashore at a place I knows of. What's he up to?"

"Keep her away a point to starboard," suddenly came from the midshipman.
"That'll do. Hold her so and keep her steady on that course. I fancy we
must be somewhere near the spot Anyone hear anything?"

"Nothing, sir?" came from Hurst, while Hawkins opened his thick lips to
cry "Aye! aye! sir," in recognition of the order given him. "Steady it
is, sir. Fancied I heard a cry away over here a minute or more ago, but
I ain't sure. There's no sayin'."

"Then keep your ears open, men, and--Hawkins."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"As we're away from the ship and it's dark I've no particular objection
to Hurst's smoking. All you men can smoke; but please don't forget to
listen carefully."

Had it not been dark expansive grins could have been seen on the faces
of the half-dozen tars manning this steam pinnace. For here was a
privilege granted without the asking, and one, too, which every one of
the men could fully appreciate. It was just one of those thoughtful
actions for which Dicky had become almost famous since he became a
full-fledged midshipman, and which added so much to his popularity. As
for Hurst, the mention of his own name caused him to bring one broad
palm with a resounding smack against his thigh. Hawkins could hear him
gurgling, and then listened to his low-toned whisper.

"Did you hear that? Spotted who was smoking. Spotted it was me," he said
hoarsely, his tones betraying delight if anything. "If that don't beat
me handsome! Here's he away for'ard a-listening for shouts and cries,
while the pinnace steams against the wind. He spots as someone's
smoking. And he says as sure as he can make it that it's me. That's
smart, mate, ain't it?"

"It's jest common sense, that's all," came the rejoinder. "Dicky ain't
asleep, not by a long way. He knows his men better perhaps than a sight
of the orfficers. And he knows you, Bill, and the smell of that 'ere
pipe. That's where his smartness comes in. He puts things together
quick, same as he'll clear up this here little business that's brought
us away from the ship at a time when we ought to be turnin' down and
alookin' forward to our suppers. Did you hear what it is exactly? They
was mighty quick in pipin' us away. It's something particular."

"Someone lost away out beyond the Needles, that's all I heard," came
Hurst's answer. "Anyways, there ain't much chance of our being able to
help. It's blowing hardish out here, and if a boat has foundered and
left her crew in the water, why, they'll stay there I'm afeard. It don't
take long to drown a man, even with the little sea there's running."

A sudden order had in fact disturbed the peace of shipboard life late
that evening. Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw, in all the glory of his mess kit,
was on the point of making his way to the gunroom, there to sit down to
an appetizing dinner, when he received an unexpected order.

"Mr. Hamshaw! Mr. Hamshaw!" he heard someone calling. "Pass the word to
Mr. Hamshaw, please. Ask him to step up on deck at once, bringing
oilskins with him."

Dicky's servant conveyed the tidings to him. Dicky himself tore off his
mess jacket with no very pleasant expression, dived into a workaday
costume, and grumbling at the ill fortune which had befallen him
stumbled up on deck.

"Yes, sir," he cried, halting before the officer of the watch and
displaying that smartness for which he was notorious. "Here, sir."

"Ah, Mr. Hamshaw, there's a Marconi in to say that someone's been lost
just outside the Needles. I can't get further information, and don't
know what sort of a craft it is that has foundered, nor how many were
aboard. But it's urgent. Tumble into the pinnace and get out as fast as
you can steam. Don't return till you have thoroughly searched the water
out there."

"Yes, sir." Dicky's youthful heart leaped with delight. True, he longed
for that dinner which he was leaving. But this order entailed an
independent command, and Dicky loved that more than anything. "Yes,
sir!" he repeated.

"And keep a lookout for another pinnace. The Admiral's sending one from
another ship. There, off you go. I'll send down to the mess steward to
tell him to keep things going hot for you. Smartly does it."

Smartly was always the way aboard that ship, and particularly when Dicky
Hamshaw was the officer. He tumbled down into the pinnace with the
rapidity almost of lightning. An active monkey would have been hard put
to to beat him.

"Push off there for'ard!" he shouted. "Now, ahead. Give her steam,
Perkins!"

The low-built pinnace went away from the ship's side into the night like
a sleuthhound, and but for the light she carried at her bow was quickly
invisible. They steamed out to the Needles at their fastest pace, and
then began slowly and thoroughly to circle the water outside, searching
every yard of it as far as they were capable. And had they heard a cry?

"Sartin," declared Hawkins, when Dicky appealed to him after the space
of a few minutes, and when the red glow from half a dozen pipes told
that the men were taking advantage of the privilege of smoking. "I heard
one a moment ago, faint-like, sir. Someone almost drowned already."

"Then give 'em a call. Perhaps that'll rouse an answer," said Dicky
anxiously. "Now, all together!"

A deep gruff call was sent up by the crew of the pinnace, Dicky's shrill
treble merging with the bass of the men. Then all listened, while
Perkins shut off steam and silenced his throbbing engines. Ah! A faint
cry reached their ears.

"Starboard, sir, starboard," called Hawkins. "I'm certain."

"Sure," grunted Hurst, snatching his pipe from between his teeth. "There
again, sir--listen."

There could be no doubt that Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw and his men had
heard a call for help, and the sound, faint though it was, set them in a
fever. At a command from the officer, Perkins sent steam whizzing and
hissing into his cylinders. Flames roared up the stumpy funnel of the
pinnace, while the propeller thrashed the water into white foam at the
stern, foam that could easily be seen in spite of the surrounding
darkness.

"Keep her away a couple of points then," shouted Dicky, leaning with
both hands on the gunwale of the craft and staring into the darkness.
"Keep a bright lookout forward there, and give me a shout if you see
anything. One thing's in our favour. There isn't another craft about
here, so we can plug along at our fastest."

Perkins had no hesitation in giving all the available steam to his
engines. By then, the pinnace having been the better part of an hour on
her journey, there was a fine head of steam, the gauge showing a
pressure which promised something approaching full power. It was not to
be wondered at, therefore, that the whole pinnace vibrated. The engine
roared. The propeller behind even threw white foam into the after
portion of the vessel. And so, for perhaps five minutes, they continued
plunging into darkness, each man of the crew straining his eyes to
detect something.

"Stop her! Let's listen again. Wait though--give another shout,"
directed Dicky, and at the command once more a hoarse growl was sent
across the heaving water.

"Nothing, sir--not a sound," cried Hawkins, when they had listened a
full two minutes. "Whoever it was who answered us before is drowned."

"No--I heard something. Silence!" called Dicky. "There! Hear it, any of
you men?"

"Yes, sir. There it is again," cried Hurst, now filled with eagerness.
"Listen, sir--there again! Well, I'm blistered!"

It was one of the seaman's choicest expressions, reserved for moments of
unusual excitement. He let his still-smouldering pipe drop into a pocket
and scratched his head with one rugged forefinger. And no wonder that he
was puzzled. A moment before he and Hawkins, and Dicky Hamshaw and the
remaining members of his crew would one and all have declared that they
heard a shout come from a point almost directly ahead. They felt sure of
the fact, could have made an oath upon it. And now it came from aloft,
from the sky in fact.

"I'm blistered!" repeated Hurst, stupefied at such a strange occurrence.
"Must be a sort of echo, sir."

"Hardly likely. Why, there it comes again, and from the sea this time
without doubt. Dead ahead, too. Put her at it, Perkins."

Once more the process of giving steam to the engine was repeated, and
presently the pinnace was tearing along through the water. Then of a
sudden her onward progress was arrested. She struck some object heavily,
canted to one side till the water poured in over the gunwale, and
righted all in a moment. There was a tearing, grating noise for'ard,
followed almost instantly by the hiss of water meeting something
intensely hot, and by dense clouds of vapour.

"Holed, sir!" shouted Perkins. "There's water pouring in and flooding
the furnace. I'm up to my knees in it already."

"Stand by there! Get hold of that light, Seaton, and let's see what's
the damage. Stand by there, men. This looks like a bad business."

Dicky did not plunge into hysterics. On the contrary he was as cool as
one could possibly have wished. That the matter was serious he guessed
at once, though his inexperience left him doubting what had actually
happened. However, the rapidly rising water within the pinnace, the fact
that he already stood knee deep himself, went a long way to convince him
that his little command had met with an unfortunate accident. But he was
hardly prepared for the amazing swiftness of its termination. Hardly had
one of his men seized the light for'ard and held it aloft when, as if
that was the prearranged signal, the pinnace filled, waves washed in
over the gunwale while clouds of steam were shot from the furnace. Then,
with a heave and a wriggle and an almost audible sob the pinnace shot
away from beneath the feet of the crew who had manned her. Perhaps one
half-minute later Dicky's head appeared from beneath the water which had
submerged him. He opened his mouth and shouted:

"Stand by there, men! There's wreckage here. Hold on to it."

"Aye, aye, sir," came from Hawkins, his deep tones easily recognizable.
"Now, lads, answer to your names as I call 'em. Hurst."

"Here, sir."

"Perkins."

"Here, sir."

The answer was given with a gulp. Perkins was endeavouring to eject the
volume of water which he had so recently swallowed.

"Seaton, Carew, Tomkins."

"Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!" came with varying degrees of
quickness, and for the most part in distinctly gasping fashion.

"All present and aboard, sir," cried Hawkins, using that formula by
force of habit. "All clinging tight, sir."

"But to what? And there's that shout again. This is getting beyond me,"
declared the youthful Dicky, not in despondent tones it must be
declared, for never was there a lighter-hearted nor more courageous
individual. But in a manner which showed that the speaker was sorely
puzzled. No wonder, too, for that elusive call sounded now as if it came
from the sky again. It made the bulky Hurst actually tremble. He was
shivering already, for the water was cold, and this sudden immersion was
no joke under the circumstances. But now that call, three times
repeated, sent a cold shiver down his back, as if someone had suddenly
added a huge block of ice to the water.

"I'm jiggered," he stuttered, his strong teeth chattering. "From away up
aloft. Why, there's a man here, sir, tied up to this here wreckage."

It was too dark to see more than an inch in front of one's nose, but
Hurst could feel, and rapidly ran his fingers over the form of a man
supported on the wreckage to which he and his companions were clinging.
Was that wreckage the remains of a boat? Undoubtedly no. Then what was
it? Both Hawkins and Hurst endeavoured to elucidate what had become a
mystery. They ran their hands far and wide over spars and timber. They
stretched as far as they were able, while Dicky Hamshaw did likewise,
puzzled beyond expression by the strangeness of his immediate
surroundings. And then that far-away cry again fell on his ear.

"Silence, men," he commanded, in his most peremptory manner. "Now, give
'em a call--all together!"

The bellow which the half-submerged members of the crew sent out must
have penetrated some considerable distance. They waited for an answering
cry, and then were more completely bewildered. For of a sudden the
darkness overhead was split in twain by a beam of brilliant light, which
shot from a point far above them, a point so brilliant that they dared
not gaze at it. A moment before they were struggling in the water
surrounded by the densest darkness. Now, they and a huge circle about
them were brilliantly illuminated, showing seven forlorn figures bobbing
in the ocean about a mass of wreckage of curious formation secured to
which was the body of a man more forlorn than themselves. Dicky Hamshaw
wondered whether he were dreaming. He stretched out a hand and pulled at
the sleeve of that unconscious figure. And then he gazed aloft,
wondering from whence that light came, who could have cast it upon them,
and what manner of ship it was that floated there, invisible and
stationary yet a ship for all that; for a man or men were aboard it.
Cries had come from that direction, while their own shouts had been
followed by the sudden jet of light which now played about them. Was he
dreaming indeed? or could that actually be the figure of a man
descending through the very centre of the beam towards them, descending
at a speed which made him giddy, treading steps which there was no
seeing?

"Jingo!" he gasped. "This is getting too hot for anything. Why--why, the
man's on a rope. Now, what in the dickens supports him?"

What indeed? Not one of the men clinging to that strange wreckage in the
water illuminated so wonderfully could guess to what class of vessel
that rope could be attached. For nothing was visible aloft save that one
penetrating eye, that brilliant orb which shot down upon them its
dazzling beams. Hurst shivered yet again. Even Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw
was decidedly disconcerted and nonplussed by the uncanniness of the
situation. For that man, dangling from a rope, turning like a spider
hanging by a single thread, and swaying from side to side as the wind
caught him, appeared to be supported by nothing in particular. And yet
he was descending towards them at an amazing rate, and that too with no
effort on his own part. Someone above must be paying out the rope to
which he was attached. But who? Where was the spot from which he had
started? What sort of vessel hovered aloft?

"I'm hanged," ventured Dicky.

"It's just the queerest thing as ever I seed, sir," admitted Hawkins.
"But there's one thing I'm sure of. This here wreckage is what's left of
a waterplane. See there--one of the floats is on the top of the water.
There's generally two, so one can guess that the other's foundered, and
if it wasn't for this here one the whole affair would have sunk. It's
lucky for us and lucky for the man here. French, sir."

"Yes," agreed the young officer. "Looks it. Hallo!"

His last exclamation had been drawn from him by the sudden discovery
that the man at the end of that strange rope was now within a matter of
ten feet of him, swaying just overhead. In fact, in those few seconds
during which Dicky had turned to inspect the wreckage to which he was
clinging, the newcomer, descending as it were from the sky, had dropped
to within speaking distance. Who was he? Of what nationality?

"Ahoy!" shouted Dicky, nothing daunted. "Where do you come from?"

A face looked down upon him, a face cast into shadow by that brilliant
beam from above, and yet distinguishable to some extent by reason of the
reflection from the water. It was a bearded face, that of a man in his
early prime, strong, reliant, and dauntless, and bearing an expression
familiar to the young officer. Did he know this man? Impossible.

"Who's that?" came in stentorian tones.

"Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw, sir," bellowed Hawkins, taking upon himself to
answer; "he and the crew of the steam pinnace away from the Solent.
We've struck against the wreck of a waterplane, and the pinnace has
foundered."

"All present, I hope?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" shouted Dicky, for without a doubt the man above was a
naval officer. He had the cut of a nautical man from head to foot,
while whoever saw a man hang so comfortably in midair at the end of but
a single rope but a sailor?

"And you can stick tight for a while?"

"Certainly," answered Dicky.

"Then hang on; I'll be down again in a minute."

The man waved his hand. There came a cry from far up aloft, and then the
dangling figure was whisked upward at express speed, for all the world
as if he were seated in an elevator going aloft in a New York
skyscraper.

"I'm jiggered!" gasped Hurst, silenced up till now by the novelty of the
situation. "Why, look what's coming."

Down through the very centre of the beam, appearing once more to have
actually no point of support, there dropped a wide platform, over one
edge of which a man's head protruded. At lightning speed it fell towards
the wreckage, halting abruptly within two feet of the water as the man
signalled. Then it dropped a few inches lower, while a hand was
stretched out to Hawkins.

"Come aboard," that same cheerful, brisk voice commanded. "Where's the
officer?"

"Here, sir," shouted Dicky.

"How many men are you responsible for?"

"Six, sir; and this fellow lashed to the wreckage."

"Good! Then we'll soon finish this business. Now, on you come."

Very rapidly was the crew of the pinnace transferred to this strange
platform, and following them the unconscious figure of the man they had
come out to rescue.

"Hold tight!" came the order.

"Tight it is, sir," responded Hawkins.

"Then hoist."

The stranger signalled. Dicky felt the platform move upward. Then it
shot towards the sky, while of a sudden the beam died out, leaving them
all in darkness. It sent a chill down his back. Even the jovial and
careless midshipman was impressed by the uncouthness of this adventure.
Where was this stranger bearing them? What was to be the end of this
amazing rescue?




CHAPTER IV

The Great Airship


"Hold tight all! Don't move or you will make the platform sway, and then
it will be a job to keep your footing. Ah--up we go!"

The cheery individual, who had dropped so suddenly as if from the sky,
bringing help to Dicky and his crew, called out loudly, once he had
contrived with their help to cut asunder the lashings that bound the
unconscious figure of the man they had come to rescue, and had lifted
him aboard the platform which had borne him from aloft. He signalled at
once, and then, as we have recorded, the platform shot upward at
tremendous speed, while the brilliant light shedding its beams upon them
went out of a sudden.

"I'd as soon be aloft in a gale on a dirty dark night, so I would," the
bulky Hurst began to grumble, while he clutched at the smooth floor of
the platform, and finding no hold there, sought for the edge and gripped
it. For all had sunk upon their knees, standing being almost out of the
question, and in any case hardly a position to attract any of the
company. "There ain't no sayin' where this here platform ends and where
it begins, and if you was to fall where'd you go to!"

"Where? Davy Jones's locker!" laughed Hawkins, though his hoarse tones
told how the situation impressed him. "Right slick down to Davy Jones.
Just you quit grumblin', my lad, and get a hold on with your eyebrows."

"Silence, men!" came sharply from Dicky. The precarious position in
which he found himself, his unusual surroundings, and the uncertainty of
the future making him quite irritable. "Now, sir, will you kindly
explain where you are taking us. And first, let me thank you for turning
up just in the nick of time."

"Not at all! Not at all! Delighted to be able to lend a helping hand to
some of my own service."

"Navy, sir?" asked Dicky, though he felt sure of that fact from the very
first.

"What else, my lad? Commander Jackson, at present engaged in
experimental work."

"Aeronautics?" ventured Dicky.

"Perhaps; you'll see. Hold tight! Now that the light has been switched
off it makes this platform none too safe. That is, for anyone not a
sailor. Ah! They're slowing down the motor. We'll be aboard in a jiffy."

Their upward flight had indeed taken but a matter of a minute, and
already they were hundreds of feet above the sea. Not that they could
tell that for certain. But every one of the rescued crew had the
uncomfortable feeling that they were poised high in the air, with but
this flimsy platform between them and destruction. However, a few
seconds later they became aware of a dull, droning noise, hitherto
inaudible, while the speed of their strange lift had slowed
considerably.

"Keep your hands off the edge of the platform!" shouted their rescuer.
"Ah! Here we are! Come aboard, Mr. Provost."

The change from darkness to brilliant light was positively stupefying,
even more than it had been in the reverse direction. For now, as Dicky
and his crew crouched on the platform, fearful of moving to right or
left lest they should lose their footing, there was a gentle bump, a
flooring above their heads lifted, and in an instant they found
themselves in a wide gallery blazing with light and occupied by three
individuals. Another second and the platform came to a rest on a level
with the flooring of this gallery, while a well-groomed, white-headed
man stepped forward to greet them.

"Welcome!" he cried. "Well done, Commander Jackson! I was in a fever
till I saw you had them all on board. Gentlemen, allow me to welcome you
on your arrival."

It was Andrew Provost, well set up, thin and spare, and exceedingly well
dressed. More than that it was Andrew Provost with a new light in his
eye. He was almost truculent, and none who took the trouble to look at
him could doubt the fact that if ever there were a successful and a
contented man it was Andrew Provost.

"Permit me," he said, "to introduce my nephew, Mr. Joseph Gresson, the
inventor and builder of this wonderful ship. Step in, gentlemen, and
let us provide you with dry clothing and refreshment."

"And allow me to introduce Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw," cried Commander
Jackson, beaming upon the party. "Now, Mr. Provost, I think we had
better do something for this poor fellow who was lashed to the
waterplane. Let Alec take care of our guests for the moment."

"Alec! Alec! Of course; where is the fellow? Ah! There you are! Come
here, sir," cried Andrew, in mock tones of severity, beckoning to a
youth who till now had stood in the background. "This is Mr. Midshipman
Hamshaw, in command of the rescued party. Take him along to your cabin
and provide him with clothes. Hand the six men over to Sergeant Evans,
and ask him to see at once to their wants. There! I leave it to you.
We'll see what can be done for this poor fellow."

With his head still in a curious whirl, and his eyes turning from one
strange object to another Dicky obediently followed the young fellow who
had just been introduced as Alec, while Hawkins and the remainder of the
crew stepped along the curiously smooth, elastic floor of the gallery
after them. They reached a door, opened it and passed through, finding
themselves in a second wide gallery. But this was different from the
other; for it had doors on either side, while a railed-in square of
flooring near the centre showed a hatchway, leading by a shallow flight
of steps to a deck below, from which came the low hum of a motor.

"Sergeant Evans!" shouted Alec, and repeated the call.

"Here, sir!"

One of the many doors opened, and a tall, soldierly man appeared dressed
in the smart livery of a mess waiter. "Got something hot, sir," he said
brusquely. "I guessed food would be wanted, and so I set the cook to
work to prepare it. But they're wet, sir."

He nodded to the young naval officer and his men, and looked at them
with interest.

"Drenched," said Alec. "Pass the men along to Peters. Tell him to ferret
out clothing for 'em, and give 'em a meal. I'll take the officer to my
cabin, and we'll be in the saloon in five minutes."

The sergeant went off at once along the gallery, motioning to Hawkins
and his comrades to follow; while Alec dived in through an adjacent door
and ushered Dicky into as nice a cabin as he had ever seen. Indeed, it
contrasted more than favourably with his own quarters aboard the vessel
from which he had so recently parted. It was flooded with light from a
couple of electric burners, and heated by a stove fitted in the far
corner which was also operated by electricity. There were pictures on
the walls, secured in a manner which he had never observed before, while
the walls themselves were of a milky-white colour.

"Sit down over here," cried Alec, doing the honours with obvious pride.
"You see, this cabin communicates with the next, and there's a common
bathroom. That'll be the place in which to pull off your wet togs. Hop
into a hot bath as soon as you've got 'em off. By then I'll have a
complete rig-out for you. We're about the same height and size, eh?"

He had been looking his guest up and down sharply, admiring his uniform,
in spite of its drenched condition. And short though his scrutiny had
been Alec had come to the conclusion that Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw was a
right good fellow. As for Dicky himself, the novelty of his surroundings
and the strange adventure through which he had passed had altogether
kept his attention from his new comrade. He had merely noticed that Alec
was a straight, active-looking fellow, with a pleasant smile and a jolly
manner about him. Now, as he thanked him for his kind attention he gave
the young man a quick, frank glance, which missed very little.

"I say, thanks awfully," he began. "What's--what's your other name?"

"Jardine--Alec Jardine. But Alec's good enough. Yours is Hamshaw, isn't
it, Dicky?"

"Yes, Dicky," grinned the midshipman. "It's stuck to me ever since I was
at Osborne. I hate it, I can tell you. Makes one think one is a girl.
It's an awful nuisance looking so frightfully young, ain't it?"

They could condole with one another there, for Alec Jardine suffered
from the same infliction. To be precise, he was within two months of the
midshipman's age, no longer a boy, and not yet a man. And as is often
enough the case with youth, he resented the position, found his age
embarrassing, and his obvious juvenility a nuisance to say the least of
it. But he did not allow it to damp his good spirits.

"We'll get over it, that's one good thing," he laughed. "I say, this is
simply a ripping ship. You'll have an eye opener. But pull those togs
off; I was thinking that mine would about fit you."

"To a T. Tell me about the ship--an airship I suppose? Something like a
Zeppelin?"

"A Zeppelin! Why, that type of ship can't hold a candle to this one!"
declared Alec loftily. "I've seen 'em. They're fine to look at, fast,
and have big lifting capacity. But see how they behave. Let it blow just
a little hard, and they're done for, that is if they happen to be
outside their sheds and run out of petrol. It's only a week or more ago
since one of them lost her way in a fog, ran out of spirit, and was
forced to descend. She dropped into the hands of the French, my boy, and
they soon had every one of her cherished secrets laid bare. Don't you
make any mistake. This ship's not a Zeppelin. She's in a different
street; she's just splendid."

The unstinted praise of a vessel with which he was as yet unacquainted
whetted Dicky's appetite for a complete inspection. But not yet. He was
wet and cold, and decidedly hungry. The news that Sergeant Evans had
imparted had made his mouth water. Dicky reminded himself that there was
a hot meal in prospect, and so that it might not be delayed he dragged
off his wet clothes, and immersed himself in a bath of steaming hot
water that Alec had made ready for him. In about ten minutes he
announced that he was fully dressed.

"And as hungry as a hunter," he told his new friend. "You wait and try
the same experience. I was almost in our gunroom. In any case I could
tell you what we were to have for dinner, because in a ship you can't
keep all galley smells away from your messroom. Then they passed the
word for Mr. Hamshaw. Of course I had to go, leaving the other fellows
to sit down to a meal which I really wanted. An hour's steaming made me
ravenous, and then came our ducking. I say, lead the way there's a good
fellow. But I'd like to see my men before I take a bite myself. Eh?"

"Quite right. Look to your command first, then to number one. Follow
down the passage."

Dressed in Alec's clothing, and looking spruce and smart, Dicky followed
his friend down the gallery, through the door by which Hawkins and his
comrades had departed, and so into the quarters of the crew of this
strange vessel. Nor did there seem to be need for anxiety for the
welfare of the gallant fellows who had accompanied him upon the steam
pinnace. Already they were changed and dressed in clothing hurriedly
dragged from lockers. Surrounded by swinging bunks on either side, with
one huge electric lamp shedding its light upon them, they were seated
about a long table with half a dozen strangers amongst them.

"All aboard and comfortable, sir," grinned Hawkins, standing as his
officer appeared. "We've fallen amongst friends, and liberal ones too,
sir."

"And have got a meal here what ain't supplied every day of the week by
the Admiralty, sir," gurgled Hurst. "Not by a long way."

Dicky grinned his delight; and then, suddenly recollecting that it was
not exactly the thing for an officer to listen to what might be
construed as abuse of the Admiralty, he turned on his heel and motioned
to Alec to lead the way.

"And you mean to tell me that we're high up in the air, floating in
space!" he cried.

"One moment. Here we are--three thousand two hundred feet up," said
Alec, stopping just outside the door of the men's quarters to inspect a
barometer affixed to the wall. "That high enough?"

Dicky was at once conscious of a creepy feeling down his back. "What!"
he gasped. "Three thousand feet?"

"Every inch of it. As safe as if you were on land; safer, perhaps,
because you never know what's going to pass overhead nowadays, do you?
What with airships and aeroplanes, the land's beginning to be a
dangerous place to inhabit. Come along. You wait till it's daylight and
you can see below. You'll get used to the height in a jiffy, and you'll
agree that flying's magnificent. Here we are. Sergeant Evans!"

He dived in through a doorway, ushering his friend into a large saloon,
in the centre of which stood a table laid ready for dinner. And here
again we record but the bare fact when we say that Mr. Midshipman
Hamshaw positively gasped. He was dumbfounded at the luxury he found
here, at the brilliant lights, at the huge table groaning with silver
and glassware, at the laden sideboard, and at the richness of the
decorations. Whoever heard of such things aboard a ship sailing in the
air?

"Wonderful!" he cried. "Why, I imagined there would be nothing but
machinery--huge, oily engines thumping and thudding away at one's side,
with just an odd corner for the captain and crew to rest in. This is
magnificent; there's nothing better in all London."

It was at least flattering to Andrew Provost's taste, since he had been
the designer of all this magnificence. But who could expect Dicky
Hamshaw to take notice of rich carpets, of glittering silver, of famous
pictures clinging to silk-brocaded walls, when there was food before
him? He was ravenous. Had Alec had any doubts about the matter before,
this smart and jolly young sailor soon set them at rest. He tackled that
meal with the same dash and energy with which he had undertaken the task
that had sent him post haste away in the steam pinnace. It was, perhaps,
half an hour later when, having eaten to his own and Alec's content, he
leaned back in his chair, accepted with a wonderful assumption of
coolness the cigarette which Sergeant Evans offered him, and setting a
flaming match to the weed, tossed his head back and sent a cloud of
smoke upward. A moment later he had leaped to his feet with an
exclamation of amazement. He might have suddenly come upon a pin-point
by the cry he gave. But undoubtedly something of real importance had
created this excitement. He stood with his head tossed back, his eyes
fixed upward, and his lips parted.

"What's that?" he asked. "It startled me. I--I've never seen anything
like it. One appears to be looking through an enormous window into
space. What's the meaning of it?"

His excitement caused Alec to smile, though he, too, looked his
admiration as he gazed upward.

"Wait a moment," he said. "I'll switch off the light here and then the
effect will be greater. Now, how's that?"

Well might Dicky give vent to exclamations of surprise and even of
admiration, for, as he said, he had never seen anything nearly like this
before. Up till now he had been far too busy with his meal to take note
of anything but his immediate surroundings. But now, when he quite by
chance cast his eyes upward, it was to become aware of the fact that
this saloon apparently boasted of no ceiling. If it had one, then it was
transparent; while, more wonderful than all, the supporting gas bag of
this airship, which he imagined must be above, had all the appearance of
being non-existent. Far overhead there burned one single electric lamp,
casting its rays far and wide, illuminating the interior of the saloon
brightly. But it appeared to hang to nothing, to be supported by no beam
or rod, while the saloon itself in which he stood was, so far as he
could see, attached to nothing. It was merely floating in the air,
riding in space in the most uncanny and inexplicable fashion.

"Jingo!" he cried, feeling that strange, creepy sensation down his back
again. "We're--we're safe, I hope?"

"As a house," laughed Alec. "But it does give one the creeps, don't it?
The first night we were aboard and I looked upward it gave me quite a
turn, even though I knew all the ins and outs of this wonderful vessel.
Looks as if we were hanging here from nothing, eh?"

Dicky admitted the fact, with something approaching a gasp.

"And yet you're as sure as sure can be that such a thing is out of the
question, absolutely impossible?"

"Well, yes," admitted the young officer, not too enthusiastically, for
that uncanny feeling that he was high in the air, and might easily find
himself falling with terrible rapidity, assailed him. And who can blame
the midshipman? Who that has found himself suddenly at the edge of a
tall cliff and looked over has not been assailed by a sensation of
uneasiness, by the natural desire to reach firmer and more secure
ground, to retire from a spot which might easily be filled with perils?
Then think of Dicky Hamshaw high above the sea, aboard a ship the size
and shape and contour of which were unknown to him, standing in a gilded
saloon to all appearances open to the sky, with no ropes, no
beams--nothing, in fact, to show him how it was supported. No wonder he
shivered. Even Alec forebore to smile. The situation was unpleasant and
uncanny to say the least of it.

"Place your two hands together and look between them," said Alec,
suiting the action to the word. "Don't stare at the light up there, for
it's so bright that it half blinds you. Look well to one side. Now. Eh?"

He expected an answer, but Dicky failed to give it. Gasps of
astonishment escaped his wide-parted lips, gasps denoting pleasure and
admiration. For up above, now that he had shielded his eyes from the
glare and looked away from the light, he could dimly make out huge
girders stretching from left to right, criss-crossing and interlacing
with one another. Here and there they ended apparently in nothing.
Elsewhere they could be traced to their junction with other girders. And
on beyond them, far overhead, he could even see stars, blurred a trifle
by the material through which he observed them.

"Well, of all the wonderful things of which I have ever heard, this
beats all!" he gasped at last. "What's the thing made of? There are
girders above there heavy enough to carry a 'Dreadnought'. There's a
huge framework that looks as if it were constructed of solid bars of
steel; and yet, to look at them in a half light, which just throws out
their outline, one realizes that they are made of something else,
something transparent--yes, that's the term--for when one stares direct
at the light, knowing full well that there are more girders in that
direction, none of them can be detected. George, this beats everything!
What's the meaning of it all?"

"The meaning of it all! Why, that Joe Gresson is about the smartest
fellow you ever heard of, that he's had the courage to employ a
substance for the framework, and almost every part of this ship, which
the average engineer would treat with scorn. In short, he's the
discoverer of a substance which he calls celludine, which isn't
celluloid, nor common glass, nor talc, and yet which is wonderfully like
all three substances. You'll hear more about it, my boy. You'll get the
same idea of Joe that I and all the others have. Look here! Just rap
your knuckles against the wall of the saloon."

Dicky did as he was bidden, though he was still so astonished at the
news given him that he did not even trouble to ask the reason.

"Well, how does it feel? Of course, there's a silk covering. Under that
is the celludine. There's the same stuff here under the carpet."

"Hard, and yet it gives," said Dicky. "Appears to be very thin, and yet,
I imagine, is very strong."

"That's celludine," cried Alec triumphantly. "Every wall, every door and
frame is composed of it. Only here, where there are cabins--and one
doesn't want to be stared at all day long--it's coloured a milky white,
and so isn't transparent. But the ceiling is, that's why you can look
aloft and see the stars floating overhead. But come along. We'll take a
breather. I'll lead you to a spot that'll raise your hair, but will give
you a better idea of this airship than you can possibly have imagined."

They left the saloon at once, and passing along the gallery paused to
look into a room on the far side. There they found Commander Jackson,
Andrew, and Joe comfortably seated, smoking and chatting quietly.

"Ah, comfortably dressed and fed, my lad?" sang out the Commander.

"Yes, thank you, sir," smiled Dicky. "And, I say, sir, what a ship we've
got to!"

"You'll say so to-morrow, when you've looked over her," came the answer.
"Where are you two youngsters off to?"

"Aloft," sang out Alec. "I'm going to give him a scare, and get him used
to the situation. But how's the foreigner, please?"

"Conscious and tucked up in a warm bed," answered Andrew. "There, cut
along, you two. But no mischief, mind. I don't care if I'm responsible
for Alec, but I'll not be having the Admiralty pouring all their
indignation upon my unprotected head because of the loss of a
midshipman."

That set Dicky flushing, while the Commander laughed loudly.

"There, off you get," he cried. "Trust a midshipman to look out for
himself."

They closed the door, hastened along the gallery, and passing through a
second door found themselves in the gallery upon which Dicky had first
set foot. Alec led him to the precise spot where the lift had finally
halted, and pointed to an opening overhead.

"It's the main hoist," he explained. "If we want to pick something up
from down below we lower that platform, just as we did to fetch your
party. If we desire to get aloft to the top of the ship we step aboard
the platform, now provided with rails; just so, Dicky, my boy, see that
all's secure and safe, and then touch a button. Whiz! Up we go!"

It was a case of whiz with a vengeance. Dick had obediently followed his
guide on to this lift, and now he felt his knees bend beneath him, while
the smooth, elastic floor on which he stood shot upward at terrific
speed, flashing through an oblong opening in the framework overhead, a
framework quite transparent for the most part, with that arc light
flashing down upon them without the smallest hindrance.

"Saves climbing, don't it?" shouted Alec, for the noise of a motor
drowned the ordinary voice. "But if the thing refuses to work you can
mount to the top of the ship by a stairway erected round the lift. Ah!
Here we are. Hang on to your hat; it's blowing."

Dick felt a fresh gale of wind fanning his cheek, which alone told him
that he was now in the open. He followed his friend across a flat,
smooth deck and found himself clutching to a railing. And now for the
first time he began to gather some information as to the contour and
size of this amazing vessel. He might have been upon the upper deck of a
second _Lusitania_, only this deck shelved off gradually on either side
till it was lost in the darkness. That arc lamp, however, helped him
wonderfully, and pacing beside Alec he began soon to wonder at the
length of the ship as well as at her breadth. She was immense. It was
hard indeed to believe that she was actually floating in space. And yet
that must be so, for Alec bade him look downward.

"See for yourself," he said. "We're right forward, close to her nose,
and there are no cabins beneath us. You can see clear through the ship
down to the ocean. See the beacon lights along the shore, the lights of
the vessels, and the blaze away there in the distance. That's where your
ship is lying."

Even at night-time the sight was an amazing one, and left Dick
stupefied. But what would it be in the morning, when there was no
darkness to hinder his sight, and when he would be able to gaze directly
downward from that terrific height?

"Let's go down," he said after a while. "I feel positively silly out
here. I suppose it's because I'm not used to such a sight. How did you
feel when you first attempted it?"

Alec laughed outright. "Feel? Awful!" he cried. "Everyone does at first,
and wonders whether they're funking. Wait for the day. You'll get to
love the view, particularly when you've learned how safe this vessel is.
Come along; to-morrow there'll be a heap to show you."

They turned back toward the lift again and paused there for a moment.
For beyond doubt there was at every turn something to attract the
attention. A minute before it had been the lights about the Needles, the
lamps on the shipping, the blaze from the Solent, where the warships
were lying at anchor. Now it was the interior of the ship, seen through
her transparent upper casing. Yes, there was the saloon, with Sergeant
Evans and a helper clearing the table. Nearer at hand were Andrew
Provost, Joe Gresson, and Commander Jackson, still smoking and chatting
as they lolled in their chairs. While away aft, in the men's quarters,
the figures of Hawkins and Hurst and his shipmates were distinctly
visible. They were smoking heavily, and between the clouds of smoke
Hawkins's arm could be seen moving with some animation.

"He's just it," he was reiterating, "that there midshipmite is as
artiful as a bag o' monkeys, and if he was to be left aboard this ship,
why, there'd be mischief brewing, particularly with the young gent
that's joined him."

And how Dick Hamshaw wished that he might remain. The first glimpse of
this amazing vessel made him long for the day to come, so that he might
investigate every corner. Then, he supposed, he'd have to depart. He and
his men would take their places on that platform again and be lowered to
terra firma. But the most unlikely things happen. He found that to be
the case when he and Alec again joined their elders.

"Read that," said Commander Jackson, tossing a sheet of paper towards
him. "We sent a wireless to your ship, and told 'em of your rescue. It
seems they'd just heard of this airship through the Admiralty, and had
orders to detail a party for her working. We've saved 'em the trouble.
Read it."

Dick did, with flushing cheeks and beating heart. "Glad hear safety
Midshipman Hamshaw and crew of pinnace," he read. "Have received orders
from Admiralty to detail an officer and party for work aboard the
airship. Keep Mr. Hamshaw and party if considered suitable."

"Hooray!" shouted Dick, filled with delight.

"One moment," interrupted the Commander with a quizzing grin. "If
considered suitable, I think. Well, now, one has to consider."

"Don't scare the young fellow," cried Andrew jovially. "There, Dick,
we'll take you. Just go along and tell your men, and then turn in.
You've had enough adventure and excitement for the evening."

When, ten minutes later, Dick laid his head upon a soft pillow and
pulled the clothes about him he could not believe that he was really
aboard a flying vessel, could not credit the fact that he and his men
were resting three thousand feet above the ocean.




CHAPTER V

A Tour of Inspection


"Hallo there! Turn out! It's a grand morning and there are things worth
seeing."

It was the cheery Alec who aroused Dick Hamshaw on the day after his
rescue outside the Needles and his introduction to the airship. Dick
wakened with a start, rolled over comfortably, and blinked at his new
friend.

"Eh! My watch. Not it," he grumbled sleepily. "I was off late last night
and have had the dickens of a nightmare since. Fancied I was aloft in a
big airship. Leave a fellow alone to sleep, do."

Alec shook him, laughing loudly. "So you call our airship a nightmare!"
he cried. "That's a nice thing to do when the Admiralty have offered you
and your men as part of our crew and Mr. Provost has accepted you. I'll
tell the Commander. You'd better be getting back to your ship, for there
are dozens of fellows who'd be only too glad to come aboard here."

That brought the great Dicky to his senses. He sat up on an elbow, still
blinking at Alec with half-open eyes. Then those sharp orbs of his
opened widely, the light of full understanding returned to them, and in
an instant he was out of bed.

"My word, but I've been dreaming the whole affair over again, and
couldn't think it could be true. And it's real? Eh? Actually a fact that
I'm on board an airship high in the air. How high did you say?"

Alec made no answer. He stepped across the carpeted floor of this roomy
cabin, with its milk-white walls and furniture, and its pictures secured
to those same walls by tiny cleats of transparent material, and turning
back some hangings exposed a window three times the size of an ordinary
porthole, and provided with a pane of what one would have imagined was
glass. But it bent with the force of the wind. Half open, the frame
projected into the room at an angle to Dick, and glancing at it he
caught a reflection of the sun, now bright, and a second later blurred
as the pane bent and the surface was altered. The simple fact brought
him bounding after Alec. He ran his fingers over both sides of the pane,
bent the material backward and forward, and then tapped it with his
knuckles. That done he suddenly gazed upward, only to find himself
disappointed.

"You don't expect to have transparent roofs to your cabins too, do you?"
laughed Alec. "A fellow couldn't undress without half the crew seeing
him. No, the ceilings of the dressing-rooms, cabins, and so forth are
made opaque. But this window gives you a good idea of the stuff of which
the ship's made. Now, take a squint below."

Dick did as he was bidden, and instantly clutched tight to the frame of
the window. For down below, down a terrible distance, was a smooth,
oily surface which he guessed was the ocean. And on it were a number of
minute dots at irregular intervals, while away to the right was a
blurred patch of white, which might be land or anything else. The sight
made him absolutely giddy. A glance away to his right showed him the
under-surface of this enormous ship, transparent, it is true, but of a
bluish-grey colour owing to the shadows cast upon it. It was immense. It
stretched away from him in an easily-curving line till it was lost in
the distance. And beneath it there was nothing, nothing but thin elusive
air, and far, far below that muddy ocean.

"Jingo!" he gasped.

Alec grinned. "Makes a chap feel queer at first," he said. "But, as I've
told you before, it's as safe as houses. Here, tumble into a tub. It'll
buck you up, and when you've been on top with me and had a general look
round you'll feel as right as a trivet. Shave?"

"Eh?" asked Dick.

"Do you shave?"

"Er, no--that is to say, not always."

"Lucky beggar! I have to. A beast of a job, and takes half the morning.
You pop into the tub. We've a bath between us, and I dare say by the
time you've finished I shall have managed to get rid of this growth.
Awful bore I find it."

Dicky couldn't help but grin. He stepped across to Alec, forgetful now
of the strange sight he had witnessed outside, placed himself directly
in front of him, and closely scrutinized his features, maintaining a
gravity there was no fathoming.

"Poor beggar!" he said at last. "Awful hard lines, ain't it? You'll find
it difficult to get down to breakfast."

To be perfectly truthful, there was not so much as a single hair on
Alec's chin or lip, any more than there was on Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw's.
And the gravity of his guest, his candour, and those twinkling eyes
quite made up to Alec for any soreness he may have felt at this somewhat
personal declaration. He flushed a rosy red, and then burst into loud
laughter.

"Oh well, perhaps I imagined it a bit," he said. "If I stick to the
razor things'll come along in time. There, into the tub. I'll be along
in a jiffy."

Ten minutes later, in fact, they were dressed and ready to leave the
cabin, Dick having found his own clothes dried, brushed, and neatly
folded beside his bed.

"I say," he began, "how do you come to be aboard? Tell me."

"Cousin of Joe's: going to be an engineer one of these days. Accepted
his invitation in a jiffy. Come on. Breakfast'll be ready in half an
hour, so we've time to make a round of the ship. Now, up we go to the
top deck of all; it'll give you a good impression of the vessel."

[Illustration: ARRIVED WITH A BUMP FACING COMMANDER JACKSON

_Page 85_]

They stepped into that strange lift again and were whisked on high. A
minute later they were in the open, with a brisk breeze blowing about
them and the genial rays of the sun pouring down upon them. Gazing in
every direction Dick found himself stepping upon a flat deck of
transparent material, immediately beneath which he could easily see the
beams that supported it. Down lower still, beneath a deep space, which
common sense told him must be filled with gas, were more beams, curving
neatly to complete the shape of this ship, and beneath them again,
stretching on either side of a central gallery a number of cabins, some
with transparent roofs, others with opaque material let into the
ceilings. And yet deeper, forming the lowest portion of the ship, was
one long compartment, through the roof of which he could see engines,
with a couple of men attending to them.

"Let's get along aft, then we'll make forward," said Alec, showing the
various parts of the ship with pride. "I'll tell you something about
her. She's longer than the latest Zeppelin, and equally deep from top to
bottom. You can see that her shape is flattened from above downward,
which makes her very much wider than a Zeppelin. Care to come out to one
of the side keels?"

Dick hesitated. Then catching sight of a rail passing from this main
deck down the easily-sloping side of the vessel he nodded. After all, he
wasn't going to be beaten by Alec.

"Right," he said. "Get ahead."

They clambered over the main rail to find themselves on a narrow way
provided with very shallow steps. This brought them after a minute right
out to the farthest lateral edge of the ship, to that lateral keel, in
fact, which Joe Gresson had made such a point of. And there the rail
ended abruptly. Alec leaned over it and invited Dick to join him.

"Ripping, eh?" he asked. "Getting your balance at last, I expect. Don't
seem so dreadful now, does it?"

It did not by a great deal. The midshipman was bound to confess that he
was becoming accustomed to his surroundings. More than that, the huge
bulk of this floating monster, the fact that she never even trembled,
while the weight of himself and his comrade now brought right out to the
farthest edge caused no sign of heeling, impressed him vastly with the
stability of the vessel. He was beginning to catch some of Alec's
enthusiasm. He was longing to peep into every corner, to get to
understand every detail. And we must remember that Mr. Midshipman
Hamshaw was not unacquainted with things mechanical. What naval officer
can be in these days, indeed, when the old wooden walls have long since
departed, and when your modern ship is composed of steel, while almost
every movement aboard her, however trivial, is, where possible, carried
out by some cleverly-contrived mechanical means? No, Dick had a fondness
for mechanics. And here, aboard the airship, he guessed that his
fondness was to be gratified to the utmost.

"Let's get back to the deck again," he said at last, when they had gazed
below at the muddy ocean. "I'm dying to see more. Now, what are these
rails for? It beats me your having a deck on top of the ship. But I
suppose it's necessary. Why rails on the deck? That's what I can't
fathom."

But he saw the reason a little later, for Alec took him to a sunken deck
house, which, seeing that its roof was dead level with the deck, might
be expected to offer no resistance whatever to the air. Opening a trap,
he ushered his new friend in, though the contents were plainly to be
seen without that manoeuvre. And there, anchored to the floor, was a
pair of spreading planes, as transparent as glass, strong and flexible,
attached at their centre to a boat constructed of the same material.

"An aeroplane!" he gasped. "Here, on an airship? Why?"

"For scouting. To act as a messenger. To take passengers to and fro when
it's necessary."

Alec spoke loftily, watching Dick's amazement with secret delight.
"That's why there are rails on the deck outside," he explained. "She
starts from 'em."

"But--but how does she return?" asked Dick, somewhat bewildered, for
whoever heard of an aeroplane flying towards an airship and settling
upon it? But Alec dismissed the question with a shrug of his shoulders,
and a wave of his hands.

"Ain't there enough deck to please you?" he asked. "Do you want to
provide a drill ground? You just operate a motor; this sunken hangar
rises with the aeroplane, and there you are, ain't you?"

Dick felt the truth of the words. The huge monster on which he had found
refuge presented a deck wide enough and long enough to provide safe
landing for any aviator. As for this plane upon which he looked, it was
obviously meant to float in the water, in fact, it was a waterplane,
though the long, centrally-placed boat, to which the planes were
immediately attached, was provided with wheels also, to enable it to
roll upon the rails, and also to land either on this deck or on terra
firma. It was, without shadow of doubt, the last word in the science and
manufacture of a heavier-than-air machine.

"Ripping!" exclaimed Dick. "You've been in her?" he asked admiringly,
with just a suspicion of jealousy in his voice.

"Once: I'm going again. You'll come too."

"From here? At this height?"

The possibilities of a swoop away from the broad deck of the airship,
till a little while ago seeming to be so insecure, and now, compared
with the machine he was inspecting, so broad and strong and trustworthy,
was almost appalling. Dick wondered whether he could really screw his
courage up to board this aeroplane, to sit in that flimsy boat and wait
for the machine to move along the rails, to gather speed, and then to
hurl herself over the side of the vessel. It made that old, creepy
sensation return. Dick was one of those fellows gifted with an acute
imagination, and consequently suffered on occasions. Here, then, was an
occasion, and he was bold and open enough to admit the fact that he
hardly viewed the prospect with enthusiasm.

"But you will soon," Alec told him. "It's simply a case of getting used
to the sensation, and then you long to go out. But let's leave the deck.
You can see that we carry guns. They're provided by the Admiralty. Yes,
my boy, by the Admiralty. You see, both the War Office and the Admiralty
have been stirred up by Mr. Provost. They had to move. They had to
inspect this ship when she was completed. And inspection was enough for
the two authorities. They began to stir, to get a move on with a
vengeance, and, as a result, we've men aboard sent by the two services,
guns up here, and on the deck below, a wireless apparatus, and an
officer from either service, Commander Jackson for one, while the
soldier is to come to us almost immediately. Of course, I ain't
forgetting Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw."

He grinned a wicked grin at Dick and went racing away from him. As for
the young sailor, he gave chase on the instant, so that presently the
ship rang with their merry cries. And indeed, they made a race of it,
for Alec made for the gangway built around the lift, racing down the
steep stairs as fast as active legs could carry him. Dick, however,
proved his salt and his training. Finding a smooth, central girder of
that strange and transparent material, he wrapped his legs round it, and
went shooting like a descending rocket to the deck below where he
arrived with a resounding bump, to find himself directly facing
Commander Jackson.

"'Mornin', sir!" he gasped, drawing himself up and touching the peak of
his hat. "Fine weather, sir."

"For monkey tricks, yes," laughed the Commander. "Well, lad, how do you
like the vessel? Seen the aeroplane? Eh? Like a trip aboard her? I'm the
coxswain."

"Rather, sir," gasped Dick. "This is the finest thing I've had to do
since I joined the Navy."

"Indeed! You've been an officer a long while I take it," smiled his
senior. "Quite one of the older ones, Dick, eh? Come; I'll stop
quizzing. Let's get along to the engines; Joe Gresson has gone there.
There's no keeping him away from them. Come; you'll see the height of
simplicity combined with the uttermost efficiency that has yet been
attained."

Dick did indeed inspect a machine which, with its components, gave
extraordinary power to the ship. To put the description with the utmost
plainness, he found when he descended to the engine-room three sets of
engines, of moderate size, and of the internal-combustion variety. There
was nothing remarkable, perhaps, about the engines themselves, except
that they were a modification of the Diesel.

"You see, a Diesel uses extremely high compression," Joe Gresson
explained, leaning one hand affectionately on an engine which happened
not to be working. "That can be managed easily ashore, and in the air
also. But compressors are required in addition to the engine, for the
explosive charge, consisting of the crudest oil, must be injected into
the cylinders by pneumatic power at a critical moment, and that power
must be at higher pressure than the contents of the cylinder. To me the
most important question was the one of fuel. I barred petrol."

"Why?" Dick ventured to ask. "It's used on other airships."

"And other ships suffer from explosions and from fire. Petrol is too
inflammable, particularly upon a ship which is lifted by a huge volume
of gas. So I chose crude paraffin oil, the sort of oil that you can
obtain in any part of Europe, almost in any part of the world. To
discover a carburettor which would vaporize this crude oil was
difficult. But a friend came to my help, and here you see the result.
Our engines run steadily and strongly."

He pointed to the other two, which, as he said, were turning over
noiselessly and with a rhythm that told its tale plainly. Even Dick had
sufficient experience of this class of engine to know that the running
was excellent. But beyond that he was somewhat fogged. For besides some
machinery housed in at the end of each motor, and a certain number of
switches and levers common to any engine-room, there was nothing to
indicate in what manner the power of the engines was conveyed, nor in
what direction. Where was the propeller? How did these motors operate
it? By electricity? Perhaps, for he could see a large dynamo revolving
at the far end of the cabin. But he was by no means certain. He asked
the question instantly, causing Joe to raise his head, open a port at
the far end of the cabin, and invite him to look through it.

"We're a little aft of amidships here," he explained, "and form the
lowest attachment to the vessel. We're dead in the central line, and the
weight of these motors and of other accessories housed in what compares
with the keel of an ordinary ship, keeps her perfectly steady. Now, look
yonder. That is the tail end of the ship. You can see the propeller,
and as it is revolving and you cannot, therefore, distinguish its
outline I had better tell you something about it. To begin, it's both
propeller and rudder. See, I wish to turn the vessel. I press this lever
to the right and at once the propeller swings in the same way, driving
the tail of the ship to the left. See, I reverse the motion. Or,
perhaps, I wish to descend or rise--hold tight, please, gentlemen, while
I give our friend here a little demonstration! But first, let me say
that the propeller itself is forty feet in diameter, presents half a
dozen blades, the pitch of which can be instantly altered, while the
blades are encircled by a tube some twenty feet in depth from back to
front. Thus the air drawn into this revolving tube cannot escape to
either side, and the blades lose no efficiency, while one can readily
understand that when the ship is travelling quickly, particularly
against a head wind, the alteration in the pitch of the blades makes for
greater speed and more effectual use of the power. Now, hold tight,
please. We'll show our friend of what we are capable."

At a touch upon a lever the propeller that Dick was watching, and which
was rotating very slowly, suddenly gathered speed, till it was but a
mere haze in the distance. He felt the whole ship move forward, while a
touch on another lever bent the propeller downward, and to his
consternation the deck he stood on canted badly, the vessel headed
downward and went hurtling towards that muddy ocean which he could see
below him. The sensation was in fact paralysing. It was worse, perhaps,
when it was reversed, and the nose of the ship shot upward, setting the
deck at such an angle that Dick had to cling hard to the railings
fending the motors. But a moment later, at a touch from the inventor,
she came to an even keel, the propeller ceased to rotate, while the
vessel came to a halt.

"Now, see how we rise at will," said Joe, watching Dick's face with
delight, for it pleased the young inventor to notice the open admiration
with which the youthful sailor regarded everything. "Now, I pull this
handle. We fall. I reverse the movement. We shoot upward, but always
keeping the horizontal position."

It was really remarkable, for the mere touch of the inventor sent the
ship up and down, for all the world as if she were suspended in space,
and his fingers controlled the switch of some hoisting machinery.

"How's it done?" asked Dick eagerly. "How does the power get to that
propeller, for instance? Your motors are here. There are no chains, no
shafts, nothing save these cased-in things at the end of each motor,
which might be pumps for all I know."

"And happen to be exactly what you have mentioned. They are pumps, of
the rotary variety, and the material they deal with is that same common,
crude paraffin on which our motors run. See those pipes. They are of the
best, cold-drawn steel. They convey the oil from our pumps to the
various propellers, to the lift and to any part where we have need for
power. No corner is too sharp for them. They run anywhere, and, as you
can imagine, convey the power of these engines with a certainty there is
no gainsaying. Of course, at the far end we have other rotary motors.
The oil pumped at this point, and under high pressure, is unable to
escape from the steel pipes. At will we pass it into our distant motors,
allowing some to escape back in this direction through a bypass. If the
bypass is pulled wide open, the motors beyond do not turn; for the oil
fails to reach them. If it is closed, there is no escape for the oil. It
reaches the motors at its highest pressure, and operates them at full
power, as powerfully, in fact, as if this engine down here driving the
pumps was away up there close to the propeller with the shaft directly
coupled to it. In short, and as an interesting fact, our propellers and
other gear are operated by hydraulic power, applied after the latest
principle."

"Which is a lesson that will keep you for a while," smiled the
Commander. "Ah, there's our host, and I hear the breakfast gong
sounding. Come, Dick, my lad, you could eat, you think? the great height
at which we fly does not rob you of your appetite?"

Not by a long way. The young fellow was beginning to revel in his
strange surroundings, and to quite like this residence at a height. More
than all, he was vastly interested in the intricacies of the vessel. And
we record only the fact when we say that he and Alec spent the whole of
the morning in a close and thorough investigation, an investigation
which disclosed, among other matters, the interesting fact that
centrally-placed propellers, operating in tubes built transversely at
either end of the ship, controlled her sideways movements, making
entrance to a hangar easy, while she could be caused to descend or rise
by others, located fore and aft likewise, with their tubes built in the
vertical direction. As for the huge framework that held the gas, it was
divided into twenty compartments, to each of which pipes of that strange
transparent material led. These latter ended in one large branch which
was attached to a machine at one end of the engine-room. Joe explained
its action with a gusto that showed it to be one of his pet items, one
on which he prided himself not a little.

"What's the good of a ship which has to constantly return to land for
gas supplies?" he said. "We take ours with us. Not compressed and in
steel cylinders. Anyone can do that. But in the form of fuel. We carry a
matter of seven tons, and can get a further supply in any part of the
world. A gas producer of my own designing deals with the stuff, and at
desire we can supply gas to replace leakages. Not that we experience
those. Otherwise it would not be safe to smoke. But each one of our
compartments aboard the ship contains a proportion of air. When we want
to go higher, or lift a bigger weight, we simply set the producer going,
and by means of one of our motors pump gas to the top of the
compartments. Simple, isn't it? But it makes us wonderfully independent.
That's why we've undertaken to make a trip round the world."

"Round the world? When?"

"Now--to-morrow, that is to say."

"And--and I go with you?" gasped Dick.

"Of course; you've been detailed by the Admiralty."

The shout which the midshipman gave might have been heard at the far end
of the vessel. The prospect filled him with delight, so that he was
simply boiling over with enthusiasm and anticipation. Nor did his
excitement evaporate as the day advanced. For the ship manoeuvred over
the ocean, and was put through her paces. Towards evening, however, her
nose was turned to the north-east, and as night fell she hovered over
England. Slowly she descended, obscured in darkness, till her pilot was
able to pick up his bearings. A distant light of curious colour caught
his eye and he sent the ship towards it. Then, when directly overhead
that same brilliant light suddenly shot from the ship and flooded the
buildings beneath. Dick found himself looking down upon a huge shed,
placed in a wide-open place, and--could he believe his eyes?--the shed
was moving, revolving, actually turning. It made him giddy. Or was it
this wonderful ship which was turning?

"It's the revolving hangar, of course," Alec told him, with a laugh.
"You see, if the wind's blowing, we head up to it. The hangar opens away
from the point from which the gale comes. We manoeuvre opposite it,
and enter easily. You watch. No one is wanted to hang on to ropes. Our
pilot can manage the ship in any direction. See, we've dropped opposite
the shed; but we're not quite head on. We're getting near it, however,
for those propellers located in the cross tubes are being set to work.
Ah! that's better. See, we're creeping in. Now our huge lateral keels
run into wide slots built into the sides of the hangar. They engage and
run in farther. Right! We're home. Welcome to our kennel."

And what of the trip promised by Joe Gresson, and of the adventures it
might and certainly should bring in its train?

"Jingo!" cried Dick, as he hastened to the post office to send a
telegram requesting that his full kit might be sent to him. "Jingo, if
we don't have a cruise worth talking about, well--well, my name ain't
Dicky."




CHAPTER VI

Carl Reitberg, Sportsman


It may be imagined that the manufacture of an airship such as Dick
Hamshaw had been introduced to, the child of Joe Gresson's clever brain,
was not the work of a day. Four months had slipped by since that
eventful day on which the young inventor and his uncle, Andrew Provost,
had witnessed the flight of the Zeppelin outside Hamburg, and had
accepted Carl Reitberg's somewhat arrogant challenge.

Nor did the trial flights of this wonderful vessel escape public notice,
though, it is true, her hull was practically invisible. But the rescue
of a naval party sent to help a foundered aviator was bound to be
reported, so that on the very morning after Andrew and his friends
reached their hangar, the journals were filled with this new mystery,
while columns, indeed, were devoted to this new airship.

"Sensational rescue at sea by the crew of a strange airship," Dick read.
"Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw and a party of six men aboard a steam pinnace
were left struggling in the water owing to their craft colliding with a
half-submerged waterplane. Who is the owner of the airship? To what
nationality does she belong? Another air peril. Ship reported to be
practically transparent and, therefore, almost invisible."

There was quite a furore about the affair, and no wonder, since England
was still a laggard, and still employed her officers, capable and
dashing enough themselves, in playing with toy airships--to wit, the
Alpha, the Beta, and the Gamma. Other nations were pushing ahead. To us
had belonged the mastery of the sea for years, the heavier element
hemming our tight little island around. Now the lighter element was in
danger of conquest by some other nation, by a nation which at any moment
might prove to be an enemy, and which, within a few hours might have her
air fleet hovering over our ports, our arsenals, our war harbours, even
over London itself. Was this, then, a newcomer to add to our perils?

"I shall make it clear at once," said Mr. Provost, with that decision
one expected of him. "I shall send a statement to the papers. You ain't
afraid of the thing being copied, eh, Joe?"

Joe smiled at that. He was a young man of singularly few words; one read
his answers often enough by his features. He shook his head vigorously
now, and laughed outright.

"Afraid! no. Why should I be, Uncle? They can copy the design any time.
But they can't manufacture celludine. That is my secret, yours if
anything happens to me, the British nation's whenever we care to give it
to them. Send along your statement. It will calm many who feel that
another danger threatens."

And so the evening journals one and all contained a crisp statement from
Andrew, a statement vouched for by one of the ministers of the realm.
Thenceforward, as may be imagined, the curiosity of the nation was
acutely stirred. Men walked along staring into the sky, as if expecting
to see the airship. There were more taxi-cab accidents from this one
cause in London that week than had happened in a similar period before.
And far and wide people who were utter strangers to one another
congratulated those they met at the news which had been published.

"Splendid! Magnificent! We'll be able to sleep peacefully in our beds
now," observed Mr. Tobias Jones aloud to his fellow passengers as he
travelled to the city. He omitted to mention that he never by any chance
slept badly. His fatness, his red cheeks and blushing health proclaimed
that well enough. But he was a patriot and the statement he had ventured
upon, and which he repeated a dozen times that day under different
circumstances, went only to prove his love for his country.

Meanwhile one may wonder how it was that Joe Gresson had been able to
construct his ship in such a short space of time.

"Of course, the thing would have been impossible had I not had a great
deal of the work already in hand," he told his uncle. "You see, a
Zeppelin can be constructed in three months, though the first models
took a year perhaps. But you must remember that I had a complete rolling
mill installed here at my works, which was able to turn out the girders
and sheets we wanted as fast as we could put them together. Then again,
the bending and fitting of celludine is a different thing entirely from
that of steel or aluminium. Moderate heat will easily make the stoutest
girder we have used bendable, while the sheets require only the gentlest
pressure. Then riveting is far easier. The electric iron has saved us
numbers of hours. As for the engines, I had them by me, having taken
them from my other model. So, after all, there's nothing very wonderful
about the business."

But if Joe Gresson modestly thought there was nothing to comment upon
and no reason for congratulations to be showered upon him, there were
others who thought quite the opposite. Andrew was hugely delighted. The
authorities at the War Office and the Admiralty, sceptical as ever, took
the thing up with a decision and an energy entirely foreign to them. And
Mr. Carl Reitberg narrowly escaped a serious illness.

"What! Constructed their airship already! Rescued people at sea!
Transparent! Able to hoist men into the air as if they were flies.
This--this is incredible."

He didn't say it all quite like that, for he was troubled with a
distinct accent, one, too, which had stuck to him all his business life
in spite of the fact that he had spent so many years beneath the
protection of the Union Jack. He blustered, fumed, and raged, and
finally went to bed. The following day he carefully investigated his
financial position.

"It will ruin me, this challenge," he declared in despair. "One hundred
thousand pounds! It is a gigantic sum. I was an idiot ever to listen to
Andrew Provost and his fool of a nephew. But--_himmel!_ we shall see
what we shall see. The ship is built, that is true enough. But can she
circle the globe, and if she be able to do that, can she complete the
journey in four months and a couple of weeks, all that remain now of the
agreed-upon nine months? Ah! There is many a slip. She is fast, this
ship. Eyewitnesses of her flight tell me that. She takes no notice of
the wind. But Zeppelins have met with accidents: she may too!"

His fat little face was deeply puckered and seamed for the next
half-hour. In fact, Mr. Carl Reitberg was considering matters very
deeply and seriously. Then he took a sudden resolution. He donned a
magnificent fur-lined coat, jammed a glossy hat upon his head, then,
with a fat cigar protruding from his mouth, and wearing the ideal
appearance of a very rich and prosperous financier, he stepped into his
motor car and drove off to the place where the great airship had been
constructed. Sergeant Evans himself conveyed his somewhat large and
obtrusive card to Andrew Provost.

"A gentleman to see you, sir," he said in his well-trained voice. "H-m!"

Andrew could tell almost without lifting his eyes to the Sergeant's face
what his private opinion was of Mr. Reitberg; for the card bore that
gentleman's name. Not that Sergeant Evans was apt to forget his
position. He was too good and too old a servant for that. But he
happened to have served in many parts, and, strangely enough, Mr.
Reitberg was known to him.

"Ever seen the gentleman before?" asked Andrew curiously.

"South Africa, sir."

"Ah!"

"Him and a crew of the same sort as himself, begging pardon, sir."

"Humph! I've thought as much myself," Andrew muttered, though exactly
what his thoughts were he did not divulge. Still, from the curious
manner in which Sergeant Evans spoke, from a queer inflection of his
voice, Andrew gathered that he had not only met this Carl Reitberg
before, but had little good to report concerning him.

"Long ago?" he asked laconically.

"Twelve years come Christmas, sir; during the Boer War."

"Ah! And my acquaintance has lasted for ten years perhaps. He was rich
when I met him, and very pleasant. Was he, er--the same, Sergeant Evans?
Please speak out; don't hesitate to tell me what you know. You must
understand that Mr. Carl Reitberg is the challenger who declared that
the building of this ship was impossible, and that we could not
construct and sail her round the world in nine months. Well, we've done
the first part. We've got only to circle the world."

"And you'll have to watch him all the while, sir," whispered the
Sergeant. "He's got to pay if he loses, sir?"

"One hundred thousand pounds."

The Sergeant let go a little whistle. "Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but
when I knew this Carl Reitberg, same gentleman as is waiting outside, he
was a slippery fellow. He was trading near Johannesburg, and he was in
with foreigners, spies anxious to see the British troops beaten. I know
that, for I was one of the police corps, and we'd our eyes on him. Show
him up, sir?"

"Certainly."

It followed that the magnificent, if small and podgy frame of Mr. Carl
Reitberg was introduced to the airship, and that within five minutes,
puffing heavily with the astounding wonders he saw, that same gentleman
was seated in the saloon, staring upward through the transparent ceiling
with positive amazement written on his face. An hour later he was back
in the heart of London, when, dismissing his motor, he walked some
distance up the street, hailed a taxi, and drove rapidly away in an
easterly direction. Half an hour later, perhaps, he was closeted in a
back room of a grimy house adjacent to Whitechapel, with an individual
who looked the very opposite of himself. He was untidy, down at heels,
even ragged, while his face with its half-sunken cheeks showed obvious
traces of excitement. It was equally obvious also that Carl Reitberg and
this individual were not entire strangers. To be precise, they had at
one time been bosom companions, at the very time, in fact, when
Sergeant Evans had had knowledge of them. Then they had parted, and the
queer tricks Dame Fortune plays with various individuals had resulted in
Carl Reitberg gathering wealth about him, while Adolf Fruhmann had
become almost a pauper. And it had chanced that the wealthy and lucky
man had caught sight of his old-time friend but a week before as he
drove in his lordly motor down Whitechapel. He had seen Adolf Fruhmann
hovering at one of the many corners; and though he passed him then
without so much as a nod--indeed, shrinking back out of sight--he now
remembered the chance vision he had caught of the down-at-heels man, and
with the view of obtaining help from him sought him out.

"But I must go carefully," he told himself, as he drove in his taxi.
"I'll leave the cab very soon, and then walk along the pavement. It
shall be Adolf who shall recognize me, not I him. Then it shall be he
who shall ask for help; I will give it."

The crafty little fellow followed out this plan to its successful
conclusion. Looking the plutocrat admirably, he stepped briskly down the
pavement of Whitechapel, and when he saw his man in the distance, gave
vent to a grunt of pleasure. And yet he contrived matters so that it was
Adolf who, looking up as the fur-coated man passed, recognized an old
partner.

"Hallo!" he called, while a sulky cloud gathered upon his sickly face.
"Carl Reitberg of all people!"

Now at any other time Mr. Carl Reitberg would, as we have hinted, not
have been anxious to renew an acquaintance with such a man. His wealth
had brought with it position. Carl Reitberg chose to forget his earlier
days, and the people with whom he had consorted. But now he had an
object in view, and halting at once he allowed first a look of amazement
to spread over his fat and jowly face; and then a welcoming smile set
his lips apart, while he stretched out a hand to grip Adolf's.

"You!" he cried. "Who could have thought it? And here of all places.
Why, we parted in South Africa."

"Johnny'sberg--yes; because the police----"

"H-hush! That's done with; I've forgotten," said Carl hastily. "But--but
you're down on your luck. I haven't forgotten that we were friends then,
at any rate. This place is too public for a meeting. Take me somewhere
where we can be quiet."

And thus it happened that they were closeted in that back room in the
grimy house adjacent to Whitechapel.

"And so you're down, penniless," said Carl, eyeing his one-time friend
narrowly.

"Absolutely; hopelessly."

The opulent individual who had sought this interview so craftily lifted
ten fat fingers to show his concern. Then he dipped with difficulty into
a waistcoat pocket, pulled out a crinkling note of the value of five
pounds, and handed it across the dirty table.

"That'll tide you over for a little," he said. "After that----"

"Ah! That's where the pinch comes. What am I to do?"

"You want work?" asked Carl.

"Well, yes. Not hard labour, mind you. The class of thing we did out in
South Africa wouldn't come amiss."

Whatever that task may have been one was not to hear it, for Carl held
up a fat hand instantly.

"S-s-sh!" he said, somewhat angrily. "Least said soonest mended. We
forget South Africa. But--yes, I might find a task for you, a congenial
task. You've heard of this new airship?"

Adolf Fruhmann looked puzzled. After all, when a man has fallen upon
evil days and finds it hard to discover from where his next meal is to
come, he is not apt to betray much interest in passing events, nor has
he, often enough, spare halfpence with which to purchase journals. But
it happened that Adolf had seen an account in a paper, and since the
story had now leaked out, and it was known how Mr. Carl Reitberg had
issued a challenge to Andrew Provost and his nephew Joseph Gresson, he
recollected that he had even noted the name of his one-time friend and
associate in connection with this wonderful airship.

"Yes," he ejaculated. "One hundred thousand pounds, eh, Carl? A lot to
lose if they win, and it looks as if they might do so."

A crafty look came across his face. He leaned farther across the table
and whispered something. "Why don't you?" he asked.

"What! Impossible! I couldn't. It would be scandalous," came the instant
answer, though Carl Reitberg's tones rather belied his words. "You don't
mean to suggest that I should take steps to--to destroy the ship?"

He endeavoured to cast a tone of indignation into his speech now; but it
seemed that Adolf knew his man well. He scoffed at that tone.

"Why not?" he asked quickly. "If they win, you pay one hundred thousand
pounds. Eh? One hundred thousand sovereigns."

"True--but----"

"There is no but. They must not succeed. There are others who would
willingly pay for the secrets of this airship, and who long to hear that
she has been wrecked. Give me the job. Keep in the background yourself.
Go down to the ship and wish them the best of success. Place yourself in
a good light before them and the world. Let them believe you to be what
is known to these fools as a sportsman. Yes, that is the word. A
sportsman, almost anxious to see yourself lose, and ready at any moment
to pay that hundred thousand pounds. Then leave the rest to me."

Carl Reitberg sank back upon the hard-wood chair he occupied and
pondered deeply. Even Adolf Fruhmann with all his knowledge of Carl's
cunning--and in former days the two associates had carried out many a
rascally piece of business together, demanding no little acumen and
cunning--even he failed to see to the depths of Carl Reitberg. For the
plutocrat had skilfully planned this meeting with one object in view,
and had so arranged matters that this proposal, which he listened to
with pretended indignation, and which had been hatched in his own brain,
came actually from Adolf Fruhmann. To appear too ready to fall in with
it would be to weaken his own position. Therefore he sat bunched up on
his chair, one fat hand over his eyes, but those same orbs closely
scrutinizing his companion's crafty features from between his own fat
fingers. He remained in that position for a full five minutes, while
Adolf fidgeted and fretted. For the man was eager to undertake this
work, a task after his own rascally heart. He had not been engaged in
South Africa, in delving for British secrets and in selling them to the
enemy without something resulting. A born schemer, those experiences had
whetted his appetite for more conspiracy. Besides, it was a game which
promised wealth, while it had an element of danger that appealed to the
rascal, for, to give him his due, he was a man of courage, a man who
faced odds willingly, and who found in difficulties and danger the
stimulus that whetted his efforts and gave a zest to an undertaking.

"Well," he demanded impatiently, "you know me by now. Have I failed
before? There was that affair at Nicholson's Cloof. Did I fail there?
Then why now? As for you, who is to learn that you are mixed up in the
affair? Go down to these people. Pass yourself off as a sportsman,
and--leave the rest to me."

Carl stirred. He took the fat hand from his face and looked at his
companion. "How much?" he asked curtly. "What will you do this for?"

The remainder of their conversation was carried on in low tones and with
the greatest earnestness. These two rascals, for both were that,
bargained eagerly, and it was quite an hour later before they parted.
Then Mr. Carl Reitberg passed out of the house, roughly pushed aside a
poor woman who begged alms of him, hailed a taxi, and drove away to his
gorgeous mansion. He left Adolf Fruhmann richer than he had been for
many a day, with the promise of abundance in the future and sufficient
money with which to carry on the plot so craftily hatched in that back
room in the grimy house off Whitechapel. The following day found the
magnate down at Joe Gresson's wonderful hangar again. He was geniality
itself. He had come to wish the crew and the ship a safe voyage and a
rapid one, and to hope that nothing might happen to arrest their
progress or to damage the airship.

"To my old friend, Mr. Andrew Provost," he said, "and to his wonderful
nephew, Mr. Joseph Gresson. May they return triumphant!"

Lifting the glass of wine he had been sipping and standing up he
solemnly drank the health of the party. Then, with a cordial grip of the
hand all round, he left the ship under the pilotage of Sergeant Evans.
His tongue was in his cheek as he stepped on to the gangway which led to
the floor of the hangar. He turned to wave his adieus to the people
above, distinguishable through the framework of the vessel. And then he
regarded the Sergeant with a puzzled expression.

"Strange," he said. "I seem to know your face, to have met you before."

"The other day, sir," came the respectful and guarded answer; "I took
your card up to Mr. Andrew."

"Yes, that must be the explanation," Carl told himself, and departed
satisfied. He was more than satisfied, in fact, and hugged himself in
the depths of his motor car. For the interview had gone off wonderfully.
A reporter who, thanks to his own skilful arrangement, had been present,
proceeded at once to write up a glowing account of the meeting, and that
evening the world learned that Mr. Carl Reitberg had been aboard the
airship, where he had generously wished all the utmost success, had
drank to their health, and had shown in every way that he was a
sportsman. More than that, he had intimated his intention of at once
depositing one hundred thousand pounds at his bankers', so that, in the
likely event, as he hoped, of the successful termination of the venture,
Mr. Andrew Provost might claim it instantly. What could be fairer or
more magnanimous? What could be better calculated to throw dust in the
eyes of the public, and, more important than all, in the eyes of the
crew of the airship? Carl Reitberg not only hugged himself as he sank
back amid the luxurious cushions of his landaulette. He chuckled loudly.
He rubbed his fat hands unctuously together and positively grinned.
Yes, he had been wonderfully canny and successful. It remained now for
the crafty Adolf Fruhmann to carry on the conspiracy and see it to a
successful ending.

"Bah! Thought he'd seen me before. Didn't let on that it was out in
South Africa," Sergeant Evans was murmuring as he entered the vessel
again. "Now if I know Mr. Reitberg he ain't up to any good. He's a foxy
fellow at any time, the chap who sits at home and does the gentleman,
while those friends of his carry out the scheme that he's after. Well, I
for one will keep an eye open."

The three days which passed after Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw added his
important presence to the airship were decidedly busy ones. He himself
had his kit to obtain and friends to say farewell to. And then there was
the victualling of the ship, a matter of great importance. All day and
night carts arrived at the hangar, and the crew of the ship, composed
almost entirely of soldiers and sailors, were engaged in piling cases
upon the lift and hoisting them into the interior of the vessel.
Sufficient tinned goods were taken to last the party for five months.
There was fuel to be considered, and one had to remember that a journey
of the description contemplated demanded various weights of clothing,
weapons, ammunition, in fact a hundred and one items. But at length,
thanks to Joe Gresson's foresight and Andrew Provost's energy, they were
gathered and stored in the huge storage rooms of the vessel. The hangar
swung round easily with her head away from the wind, while the motors
began to rumble. Stationed with Joe in the engine-room Alec and Dick
watched the young inventor gently handle a lever, and looking backward
saw the gigantic propeller reverse. The ship moved. Those wide lateral
keels running upon rollers inserted in the wide slots on either side,
which were part and parcel of the hangar, began to slide gently away
from their holding. The ship backed slowly and surely out of her hangar
till she was entirely clear. A bell sounded in the engine-room, while a
voice was heard through the loud-speaking telephone. It was from Hurst,
now trained to new duties, and at that moment stationed on the upper
deck, right on the prow of the vessel.

"All clear, sir," he called. "She backed forty feet from the hangar. All
clear."

Another bell sounded. "All clear aft," came from Hawkins, stationed near
the propeller.

"Then we ascend. What's the time?" asked Joe.

"Eight thirty, sir," answered Dick promptly. "Eight thirty p.m."

"Precisely; and the day is Wednesday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then in one hundred and twenty-four days, less three hours and thirty
minutes from this moment, we are due to return. If we are here then, and
our foreign office passport has been properly initialled, then we shall
have won the challenge. We can let her go. Stand by there! I'm going to
take her up quickly. Then London shall have a glimpse of their ship, and
afterwards----"

"Yes, afterwards?" asked Commander Jackson, who had now joined them.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Who can say? I myself have confidence in
the vessel. But accidents may happen. We might be delayed by the
smallest and most unexpected circumstance. We can but make the attempt."

"And win or lose I shall be satisfied," chimed in Andrew. "Let her go."

The motors roared. Those elevator fans within the ship whirled at a
giddy rate, and at once the gigantic framework shot upward till she was
two thousand feet above the hangar. Then Joe touched another lever. The
propeller in rear began to sing its own strange note. The ship moved
forward and that adventurous voyage had begun.

"Starting's easier than returning," Mr. Carl Reitberg told himself with
a chuckle when he read of the departure of the ship on the following
morning and of her appearance over London. "Let 'em wait a bit. Adolf
Fruhmann has yet a word or so to say in the matter."




CHAPTER VII

En Route for Adrianople


"And now, gentlemen, to discuss our route," said Mr. Andrew Provost once
London was left behind, with its gaping and wildly-cheering crowds, amid
which Carl Reitberg had a place, and the rascally Adolf Fruhmann also.
"We are hovering at this moment over the Straits of Dover, and since, if
our tour of the world is to be complete, we must waste no time, it will
be as well if we map out a course without further delay."

In his practical manner he had provided himself with a huge globe, which
now stood in the centre of the saloon table, with those who were to tour
the world on the giant airship seated about it.

"Gentlemen," he went on, "the earth--or, rather, I should have said, the
air--the air is before you and around you. Choose your path. To me and
to my nephew the course we take is immaterial, with just this one
reservation. We wish to take a path which will give us facilities for
picking up both water and fuel. Now!"

Looking round the brightly-illuminated saloon he invited first the
Commander, then Alec, and then Dick to give an opinion. But all in turn
shook their heads.

"No, no," said the former eagerly. "To me it matters not a jot which
course we take. Choose yourself. Or, if you merely ask for a suggestion,
let us take the all-red route. Let us fly so as to pass over and call in
upon as many British possessions as possible. There! That is a pleasant
scheme. Why not?"

"Why not, indeed? Excellent!" cried Andrew. "Now, let us trace the
route. But wait; there is one other to be consulted. I refer to Major
Harvey, who came aboard just before we started. Perhaps he has some
special wishes; let us consult him."

Sergeant Evans was at once sent to summon the latest guest aboard, and
within a few minutes there entered the saloon a tall, well-set-up man of
perhaps forty years of age, well groomed, spruce, and of active
appearance, with features which might be described as prepossessing,
while there was a firmness about the chin and a steadiness of the eyes
which showed that the newcomer was possessed of courage. In short and in
fact he was the beau ideal of a soldier, while his manner was easy and
distinctly friendly. Nodding to all, for he had been introduced some
three hours before, he sat himself down and looked across at Andrew.

"You sent for me," he said crisply, in a matter-of-fact way, even more
businesslike than that of his host. "What is the question? Can I be of
service?"

"Certainly, Major. There is a globe; you know already that we have
been, as it were, challenged to tour the world, to make a complete
circle of the globe. Well, then, choose a route for us. Commander
Jackson suggests an all-red route, which shall take us over British
possessions. If that meets with your approval, well and good. If not,
then where shall we go--what course shall we steer?"

For answer the Major slowly rose from his seat, and, crossing to the
table, carefully and critically examined the globe. Then he drew a
packet of papers from his pocket, and, selecting one, handed it to
Andrew.

"For me all courses are the same," he said with a smile; "but since I
take it that from here to the centre of Europe is but a step for this
magnificent vessel, I should be glad of the opportunity of visiting one
part comparatively but a stone's throw from here. I speak of the
Balkans. Please read that letter."

Andrew slowly opened the envelope, drew out the contents, and then
donned his glasses. Adjusting them at the correct angle upon his nose,
he held the letter up and read aloud.

"Adrianople, Thursday evening, 16 January, 1913."

"Adrianople!" cried the Commander. "That's the city now besieged for so
long by the Bulgarian armies."

"Quite so; closely besieged," admitted the Major. "Very closely."

"Ahem!" Andrew cleared his throat. "You wish me to read it aloud?" he
asked, waving the letter at the Major.

"Certainly."

"Then here it is. 'Dear Harvey, I write to inform you that I am held
here in Adrianople, and should the siege continue much longer, the value
of the information I have gained will be lost. But I cannot dispatch it
in this letter. This must pass the scrutiny of both friends and enemies.
Therefore it but announces my presence here, where I live as best I can.
Please explain my continued absence to our mutual friends. Yours,
Charlie.'"

Andrew took his glasses from his nose slowly, glanced sideways at the
letter, and then direct at the Major. There was a puzzled look upon his
face, a polite enquiry as much as to say, "Well, my dear sir, I don't
understand. What has your friend Charlie to do with us? He's in
Adrianople; so are scores of others. There's a British consul there, no
doubt. Why should we go to this besieged city?"

Commander Jackson coughed; similar thoughts were passing through his
quick brain also, though he gave his soldier friend credit for
astuteness and common sense. "Must be something behind this letter," he
said aloud.

"Certainly; Charlie knew that many eyes would see it before I received
his hurried lines," said the Major. "But let me explain what it is that
I gather by the reading of that letter. First, that Charlie is hemmed in
in this besieged city. Next, that he has information which he cannot
send through the post, or by means of a runner escaping from or
permitted to leave the city. In fact and in short he has information of
value, value to our mutual friends, who, I may further explain, happen
to be the Government."

"Ah, I suspected something of the sort! What next?" asked Andrew.

"I will be frank," came the answer. "For the past three years Charlie
and I have been engaged in some extremely delicate and important
investigations in and around the Balkans. Pardon me if I am not more
explicit on this matter. I left for London some two months ago, having
lost all trace of Charlie. Now I know him to have obtained the
information which we sought, information which, owing to the sudden
onset of war and the siege of Adrianople, he is unable to impart. Well,
Mr. Provost, that information is wanted by the Government at once. Delay
is positively dangerous. I ask you in the name of this country to risk a
visit to Adrianople and there attempt to pick up my friend and fellow
investigator."

There was silence for perhaps two minutes, while the various people
present in the saloon glanced at one another curiously, to see if
possible what their fellows thought. Then Andrew spoke briskly and with
marked decision.

"There will be guns about Adrianople?" he asked; "guns capable of
sending shells high into the air? Mortars, in fact?"

"Precisely; there will be siege batteries. The Bulgars are wonderfully
equipped. The Turks also, hemmed in in Adrianople, have some marvellous
pieces."

"Any one of which, by exploding a shell within distance of us, could
wreck the ship?"

The Major nodded. "True enough," he said coldly. "The risk would be
great. If you are seen, a thousand rifles will be pointed at you. A
hundred guns will be manoeuvred so as to aim into the sky. The risk
will be very great; I do not deny it."

"And the service will be equally great. You tell us that this matter is
of urgent importance for England?"

Andrew asked his question sharply, as if he were cross-examining the
Major. "You tell us that England has great need of this service? I ask
for no details. Anyone can see that we are discussing a delicate matter.
I merely ask again as to its importance."

"And I reply that the service is of the greatest. More than that, I will
explain that the War Office had appointed another officer to this ship,
and only changed their selection at the last moment. I was given precise
instructions to bring this request before you at the earliest instant.
You ask me how great is the importance of this matter, and I reply
without hesitation that, even if this wonderful ship and her crew were
destroyed in the successful effort to gain this information, then great,
overwhelming as the loss would undoubtedly be, it would be but a small
price to pay for the news which Charlie has gathered. As for Charlie,
that is but a _nom de plume_. The writer happens to be an officer high
up in the British army."

The Major slowly surveyed his comrades, while he spoke deliberately.
Then he drew a cigarette from his case, placed it between his lips and
set a flaring match to it, with a nonchalance one had perforce to
admire. For obviously enough Andrew's decision was of the utmost moment
to him. Equally clearly it was borne upon the minds of those who
listened that this mission, the barest details of which could be
discussed, was of unusual importance. If Andrew and his nephew refused
to jeopardize the safety of the airship by taking her into such a danger
zone, then one could guess that particulars of the utmost moment would
be lost entirely, or, what amounted to the same, their delivery would be
so delayed that they would be useless.

"Well?" asked the Major, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Your answer. I
ask no favour. I have pointed out the risk."

"And I thank you heartily," cried Andrew. "Gentlemen, we will take the
all-red route for this world tour, looking in at as many dependencies of
the British crown as possible. And we will willingly take the risk of a
visit to Adrianople. If there are any here who have no desire for this
adventure, then we will set them down wherever they wish. Now, let us be
moving."

It may be readily imagined that not one of those present in the
brightly-lighted saloon had any qualms as to this projected visit, for
to all of them was promised a novel situation. The Major and the
Commander might hope, indeed, to witness a modern siege in actual
operation, while no doubt the successful manoeuvring of this fine
vessel would be of sufficient interest to Joe and Andrew. For Dick and
Alec there was, of course, a decided attraction in the suggestion.

"Who knows, there might be a rumpus of some sort," declared the former.
"We might get to see a bit of the fighting. How'd you like that?"

"How'd you?" Alec grinned back at him. "You're the one to answer, for
you're a man of war. You're in the Navy."

"I'll tell you. If there's just the merest chance of getting down into
the city I mean to take it," said Dick. "Then there's no knowing what
may happen. How is the Major going to find this fellow Charlie? That's
what beats me, for Adrianople is a big city. And how is he to bring him
or his news aboard without descending? I tell you this ship'll have to
be steered right over the armies. She'll have to drop to easy distance
of the city, and then--supposing a shell did happen to come our
way--well----"

"You'd find yourself in the city precious quick, and so have your
dearest wish fulfilled in a minute," laughed Alec. "We'd blow up, eh!
There'd be a fine old crash on the roofs of Adrianople."

Joking apart, the danger was not likely to be small and the risk run by
the crew of the airship was perhaps greater than had been anticipated.
But Andrew and his nephew made light of any trouble, and indeed
undertook this work with a keenness that did them credit. It followed,
therefore, that within a dozen hours the airship floated high up above
the besieged city. It was night-time, clouds floated thickly in the sky,
while not a light showed aboard the vessel. Down below a few flickering
lamps could be seen in the direction of the city, though the greater
part was plunged in darkness. But away to the north and south, and on
either hand, there were rows and rows of tiny blazing circles, the camp
fires of the investors.

"Holding every outlet," said the Major. "Not a man can enter or leave
the city. If they could, Charlie would have bade farewell to it long
ago. But entrance from the air is another question altogether."

"And you propose to descend to the city?" asked Andrew.

"With your help, certainly. There is a huge mosque in the heart of
Adrianople, and that is the place I shall aim for. There, or in the
immediate neighbourhood, I shall find Charlie."

"And--and supposing anything should happen to prevent your returning,
supposing you were apprehended by the Turks," suggested Andrew.

"Then the airship goes on her way again. It will be a misfortune, of
course, but that is all. You have risked all to bring me here, and I
shall not grumble if I am discovered."

In the darkness of the engine-room it was impossible to observe the
Major's face, but at that moment it was stern and peculiarly determined.
For without a shadow of doubt the descent into the city would be
exceedingly dangerous. If he were seen by one of the besieged as likely
as not he would be shot down on the instant. If not that, then he would
be apprehended as a spy, perhaps; and short shrift was given, he knew
well enough, to men of that description. But there was not so much as a
tremor about him as, an hour later, he stepped upon the platform from
which the lift ran, sat himself in the sling by which Commander Jackson
had descended to the water on the occasion of Dick's misadventure, and
whispered to his friends to let him go.

"Adieu!" he called gently. "Watch for a flare amongst the buildings
to-morrow night. If you do not see one, then return again the following
night. If still there is no sign, sail on and leave me. Adieu!"

The motor above hummed a low-pitched song, the sling at the end of the
rope bearing this gallant officer upon it dropped from the platform and
went shooting down under the airship.

"Good luck!" whispered Andrew. "Ah! There goes a very gallant fellow.
Now, gently with that tackle. The barometer places us five hundred feet
above the city. We shall have to lower very carefully when we have let
out four hundred feet of the line."

In the inky darkness of the night the ship had slowly descended till she
was suspended at the height mentioned above this besieged city. And now
those aboard her slowly paid the rope out over the motor, letting it go
foot by foot once they guessed that the burden they were lowering was
nearing the ground. Perhaps ten minutes had passed before they found
that the line hung slack. A pull upon it disclosed the fact that the
Major must have left it.

"Haul in!" commanded Andrew. "Now, we will rise again, and sail right
away from the city. Let us hope that our plucky friend will be
successful."

The following morning found the ship hovering at a great height over a
deserted stretch of country, where she lay inert in the air, as if
resting after her long trip from England. But that night the motors
hummed again, and presently she was back over Adrianople.

"Now, all hands set to work to watch for a flare," Andrew commanded.
"We'll divide the city into various portions, and so make sure by giving
a different part to each one of us that the Major's signal cannot go
undetected."

But though the eyes turned upon the dark surroundings of the beleaguered
city never left their object, there was no flare to attract their
attention, and presently the first signs of dawn warned Andrew and his
comrades that the time had come to depart. A loud detonation in the far
distance, and a streaming flame of fire, hastened their decision, and
they rose at once and headed away from the city followed by the noise of
artillery in action. In fact, a fierce attack had begun upon Adrianople,
and though the huge airship put many miles between her and the
contending armies, the dull muffled roar of guns still reached them on
occasion. But towards evening the battle slackened, and that night, when
once more over the city, there was not a sound to disturb the silence;
not a note came to the ears of the listeners above to tell them of the
armies beneath them.

"Fine and clear, but dark enough for our purpose," said Joe, straining
his head over the rail of the observation platform of the vessel. "Let
us hope that we shall see the signal this evening, for I confess that I
shall be glad to get away from those guns. Did you see the shells
bursting as we left in the morning?"

"Guess I did," came Andrew's emphatic answer. "And a nice little mess
they'd make of this ship if one hit us."

"Or came within a hundred yards of hitting us," said Joe decidedly. "If
a shell were to burst within easy distance, the chances are that the
concussion would break the framework and cause the gas to explode. So
let's hope we shan't be long in such an unpleasant neighbourhood."

But the night passed again without so much as a flicker from the city.
Major Harvey made no sign of his presence. Was he captured, or shot? or
had he merely failed to discover Charlie?

"Captured or shot," said Andrew promptly, when they began to discuss the
matter. "If he had merely failed to discover his friend he would have
sent us a signal, and on returning to us would have made other plans to
recover this information. There is no signal. That means that the Major
cannot make it. In fact, he is dead, or he is a prisoner."

"While we are left helpless above the city," Joe added. "What's to be
done? We'd never think of leaving the place till we are quite sure what
has happened."

"Never," declared Andrew with energy. "Besides, there's another
important matter to consider and to keep us here. The Major distinctly
told us that Charlie possessed information of vital importance to the
British Government. Then we have two reasons for remaining, one being
the safety of our friend the Major, and the other being the need to
discover Charlie. That seems to me to present unheard-of difficulties.
For Charlie is merely a name. We haven't even a description of this
officer incarcerated in Adrianople. Come, Commander, help us. This is a
real difficulty."

It was more than that. It was a dilemma, for how could Andrew and Joe
and his friends help the Major, seeing that they were high in the air?
And how could they discover a man in the city of Adrianople of whose
appearance they had no knowledge?

"Might be tall or short, broad or thin, dark or fair," said Dick. "It's
a conundrum."

"Unless," began Alec.

"Unless what?" Dick snapped.

"Well, unless we were to investigate personally. For instance, this
Charlie's an Englishman, eh?"

"Certainly!" cried Andrew.

"Then there aren't enough of our countrymen in the city to make it
difficult to pick out our man. He's a soldier, that we know. It isn't so
hard as a rule to tell when one looks at one of that profession. As for
the Major, if he's alive, why, seeking might find him."

"But--but you forget. We're up here, a thousand feet in the air," cried
Andrew testily.

"Quite so, sir," came the respectful answer. "But the Major descended.
We could do the same."

"Bravo! It's the only course open," cried the Commander. "Mr. Provost,
our duty is clearly before us. We must follow the Major, seek him out,
and discover his friend Charlie. Come, I volunteer. It would never do
for you or your nephew to make the attempt, for you have this tour to
make, and you must be successful. For me it is different. I am in the
service of my country; this is a question of duty."

"Hear, hear, sir!" chimed in Dick. "I'd like to come in support. May I?"

"While I suggested the movement and claim a place also," said Alec, with
an eagerness foreign to him. "Why not, Mr. Provost?"

Why not? What one man could do, others could also. Besides, how could
the crew of this vessel honourably retreat from this beleaguered city
and leave a comrade in the lurch, to say nothing of losing something of
a secret nature which they had been assured was of vital importance to
their country? No--they must stay. They must go to the Major since he
could not return to them.

"I agree," said Andrew, after some few moments' consideration. "You
three shall be lowered, and to-morrow night we will return and look for
your signal. But let me beg of you all to use the utmost discretion. One
misfortune is enough without inviting others."

It was perhaps an hour later when three figures muffled in short, thick
coats stepped upon the lift platform.

"Goodbye!" whispered Andrew and Joe. "A safe return!"

"_Au revoir!_" sang out Dick, in the seventh heaven of happiness. "Now,
hold on, Alec! We don't want you to get tumbling over and so announcing
our coming."

Hearty hand-grips were exchanged, and then the motor hummed its tune.
The Commander and Dick and Alec sank out of sight and were at once
swallowed up in the darkness.




CHAPTER VIII

The Besieged City


"Steady! Now, lower very slowly, for we are close to the houses."

Commander Jackson pressed the button of the electric indicator aboard
the platform on which he and Dick Hamshaw and Alec Jardine were being
lowered into the besieged city of Adrianople, and applied his lips to
the loud-speaking telephone. He barely whispered into the receiver, but
Dick and Alec knew well that his voice would be heard easily enough
aloft.

"Stop! Move away to the right; we are directly above a very large
building."

The platform of the lift jerked slightly as the motor above was
arrested, and for the space of a minute perhaps, it and its human
freight rose and fell as the long steel wire stretched and then
contracted. Dick craned his head over the edge, for he was kneeling,
just as he had been on that earlier occasion when the Commander came
down to his rescue. Below, barely visible in the all-pervading gloom, he
made out the dim, hazy details of a building, which stretched on either
hand for some considerable distance. Then he turned on his elbow and
stared upward, to find that nothing was visible. There was not even the
barest outline of the great airship which he knew well enough was
directly overhead, not a light, not a single sound, not even the gentle
tune of that humming motor. But down below there were sounds. Hark! What
was that?

"Men marching through the streets," whispered the Commander. "We shall
have to be cautious, for it would never do to drop into the hands of the
Turks. They would not understand our coming. We should be spies, as a
matter of course. Hold on up there," his companions heard him whisper
into the receiver of the telephone. "Hoist a little higher. Now, move
ahead."

Somewhere in the distance a clock struck musically, the sound easily
reaching the ears of the adventurous three descending to the city. One,
two, three.

"Two hours more and we shall have the dawn," whispered the Commander.
"Listen! Troops are on the move. There must be thousands marching
beneath us. No doubt reinforcements are being taken to some part where a
new and fierce attack is anticipated. Ah!"

Dick flushed as red as a beetroot in the darkness, and was thankful for
the cloak it lent him. For who could help starting violently under the
circumstances? A loud report had suddenly rung out away on their left, a
detonation which set the air above the city reverberating. There was a
flash in the distance, a streak of flame cutting into the darkness, and
then, heard perhaps half a minute later, a hideous shriek, getting
louder and more insistent.

"A messenger from the besiegers," said the Commander hoarsely. "Ah! It
plumped into the house away over there to the right. Lucky we weren't
directly over it."

It was fortunate for all three without a doubt, for that messenger from
the lines of the Bulgarians or from those of the Servians, who were now
aiding their comrades in this siege, was certainly not of the peaceful
variety. That shriek, in fact, was followed by a clatter, by the crash
of a hard, heavy body striking against masonry. Then there was a
thunderous roar, a huge spot of flame and smoke and debris, and finally
darkness and silence, silence made more intense by the occasional low
moaning of some poor injured person. A second later another gun spoke
from the distance, while the streak of flame from the muzzle was
followed by a third detonation from a different direction, and later by
half a dozen more. Suspended in midair Dick and his friends listened to
the roar of the shells, to the clatter of tumbling masonry, and to the
explosions that followed with feelings which can hardly be described as
precisely comfortable.

"George! A near shave," whispered Dick. "Hear it, sir?"

"Hear it? Rather!" came gruffly from the Commander. "That shell went
over our heads, and I reckon there cannot have been more than a dozen
feet between it and us. Nasty, eh! if one were to hit the wire rope."

"Ugh! What's he want to talk like that for?" Alec grumbled beneath his
breath. He peered over the edge of the platform and shivered. Not that
he had not plenty of courage and spirit. But somehow the dangers of a
bombardment seemed greater when suspended between earth and sky than
when one has one's feet firmly planted upon Mother Earth. It seemed,
too, that the jovial Commander felt the same also.

"It'd be nasty to get that rope cut, eh?" he asked again. "We'd fall
heavily. Let's move on. Do either of you lads hear any more troops
moving?"

A few minutes before there had been the muffled sound of a multitude of
rough boots treading upon uneven cobbles. Sometimes one heard the clink
of a sabre against the stones, or of one man's rifle against that of a
comrade. And now and then voices had reached the three suspended
overhead--sharp voices, as if officers were there issuing commands.

"Hear 'em?" asked the Commander.

"Moved on, sir, I think," responded Dick. "Now's the time for us to do
the same."

"Listen! They've gone away to our left. You can hear their steps still,"
said Alec. "Ah! That ends all sounds from them. I suppose this is a
general bombardment, sir?"

"Sounds like it," admitted the Commander. "Guns are directing shells
upon the city now from every side. It's time, as you say, Dick, to get a
move on. Ah! The ship has carried us away from that building. What's
below us?"

They craned their necks over the edge of the platform and peered down
into the darkness. "A garden, sir," suggested Dick.

"Clear ground in any case," came from Alec.

"Then lower away," the Commander whispered into the receiver. "Steady!
Ah, she's bumped! Hop out, you fellows. All clear? Then hoist above
there. We're safely in the city."

Did they hear a gentle hum from high up overhead? Dick fancied he could
for one brief instant as the lift shot upward. But it may have been
merely imagination. In any case there came quickly enough other sounds
to drown any there may have been from the airship; for a monstrous gun
spoke in the distance. The air above this devoted city shook and
vibrated, while the steel monster launched into space howled and
shrieked as it rushed to its destination.

"Down behind this wall," called the Commander, who had stood up to stare
in the direction from which the shot had come. "Down, quick! That
shell's coming straight for us."

Throwing themselves down upon the ground behind a low wall beside which
the lift had dropped them, they waited breathlessly for the landing of
that messenger. It shrieked a warning at them. It announced its coming
in a manner there was no mistaking. Then suddenly it burst upon them.
The shriek grew positively deafening, rising to such a blood-curdling
pitch that it would have shaken the pluck even of a veteran. But it was
muffled all in a second. There was a ponderous thud within a dozen
yards of the adventurous trio, an uncanny silence, and then a detonation
that threw them against the wall, and sent earth and stones and debris
in every direction. And what a sight the wide-spreading flames of that
explosion presented! Dick saw buildings all about him, buildings over
which stones and clods of earth were hurtling. To his left, within two
hundred yards perhaps, was an enormous erection, the actual size of
which he could not hope to estimate. But the momentary flash of the
explosion showed him towers and minarets, proof positive that here was a
mosque, the mosque, no doubt, for which Major Harvey had aimed when
descending into the city. That fleeting flash gave him in addition just
one glimpse of a huge shape floating almost directly overhead, no doubt
the gigantic outline of the airship.

"Lor! Supposing she felt the shock?" he groaned. "Supposing the airship
has sustained some damage."

"Not she! As right as a trivet," came in somewhat shaking tones from
close beside him, for unconsciously the young midshipman had spoken
aloud. "But, jingo, what an explosion! I've been hanging on to my hair
ever since. Hope we don't get another of those gentlemen within such
close distance."

The hope was hardly expressed when a second shell announced its coming,
and caused them once more to shelter close to the wall which had already
given them protection. As for the giant airship, when Dick gazed aloft
as this other messenger exploded, there was no longer a sign of her. No
doubt Andrew and his nephew had set the elevators going, and were now
high overhead, out of reach of danger.

"And so we've only ourselves to think about," said Dick. "What next,
then? What are the orders, sir? I caught a sight of the great mosque for
which Major Harvey said he would make. It's close to us. I suppose
that's where we shall begin our search?"

Strangely enough there came no answer. Dick caught his breath, Alec
gasped aloud. The midshipman could hear his breath coming fast and deep
within two feet perhaps of where he was sitting.

"Wait," he whispered. "He was just to my right. I'll crawl that way and
see where he has got to."

Getting to his knees, for till now he had been prone beside the friendly
wall which had sheltered them from stones and splinters sent hurtling
through the air by the shells which had fallen so close to them, Dick
made his way along the edge of the wall in search of the Commander. And
presently his fingers lit upon his figure. The officer was huddled up
against the brickwork; and though Dick pulled his sleeve violently there
came no response, not even when he kneeled above him, felt for his head,
and spoke sharply into his ear.

"Come along and join me," he called gently to Alec. "The Commander's
hit; yes, hit in the head. I'm sure of that, for I can feel that his
hair is wet; and listen to his breathing."

Neither of those two young fellows had had up till then much
acquaintance with wounds and injuries. But Dick had once seen a man
lying severely stunned, and now he recognized one at least of the
symptoms. For the unfortunate Commander was breathing
stertorously--positively snoring--while he took not the smallest notice
when his junior tugged at his clothing.

"Bend over him and strike a light," whispered Dick when Alec had joined
him. "We'll have to chance being seen. Got any matches?"

Evidently Alec was well provided, for in a moment there came the
tell-tale scrape of a lucifer being rubbed against the box. Then a tiny
flame blazed out, a flame which Alec shielded with his hand, while he
directed a portion of it on to the unconscious Commander.

"Yes; hit in the head. See, here's a big scalp wound," whispered Dick,
making a rapid examination, and discovering blood welling from a nasty
wound just above the Commander's forehead. "I'm not much used to this
sort of thing, Alec, but I imagine that he's not very badly hurt. He's
stunned, of course, and the thing is to know how to deal with him. First
thing, anyway, is to tie a handkerchief round the wound. Get another
match ready. Strike when I tell you to. Now. I've got his head lifted on
to my knee and my handkerchief unfolded. Strike now."

With the help of that feeble glimmer, lasting perhaps for half a minute,
they bound up the Commander's wound, and then, finding a raised piece of
ground close to the wall, gently lowered his head upon it.

"Better than nothing. It'll act like a cushion," said Dick. "Now?"

"Ah--a dickens of a business! There's the Commander down and wounded,
Major Harvey lost, perhaps dead for all we know, or only a prisoner; and
this Charlie, whom we've never seen, and hardly heard of, somewhere in
this awful city. What's to be done?"

"That's what I asked you," came quickly from Dick. "Let's see, we could
make a flare with your box of matches I suppose, and so call the
attention of Mr. Andrew. Pish! That's funking. Never! Besides, the
airship's gone by now. Didn't it strike three as we were descending?"

"Three, yes; what's the time now?"

"At a guess four o'clock. Might be less; feels as though it were a heap
more."

That, in fact, was the position. So much had happened since they set
foot in this besieged city of Adrianople, that hours might have passed,
and Dick really felt as if they had. And yet he knew well enough that
that was not possible. But the mention of the hour made him recollect
matters of greater moment.

"George!" he cried, "it will be light soon, and we shall be seen unless
we manage to discover a hiding-place of sorts. Lor! This is the maddest
kind of expedition I have ever been on, for here we are wanting a place
in which to hide, and yet our job is to discover two individuals whom we
can't possibly recognize unless we see 'em in broad daylight."

"While the airship has hooked it, eh?"

"Certain. It's getting a trifle lighter already, and she might be seen,
which would be dangerous. Well now, it seems to me that we must do
something pretty soon or we shall find ourselves in chokey. Look here,
Alec, are you game to stand by the Commander while I go on a tour of
inspection? The flash sent out by those two shells when they exploded
gave me a rough idea of our surroundings. In any case I spotted a huge
mosque away to our left, so I shall make over in that direction. I'll
follow this wall, and when it comes to an end I'll take good care to get
hold of something which will tell me I am on the right road when
returning. Ah! Listen to that! Rifle fire, eh? Getting lighter outside
the city and the pickets are having shots at one another. Or it is a
real attack opening. Yes, there go the guns again."

This time the roar which came to their ears was, perhaps, not so loud,
and it seemed probable that it emanated from the guns of the defenders.
But whoever was responsible for the firing, the enemy ringing in the
city lost no time in replying. For these were the days of strenuous
fighting about the beleaguered city. The allies, consisting of the
Bulgarians, the Servians, the Montenegrins, and the Greeks, had swept
the Turks in all directions before them, till the former were within
striking distance of Constantinople itself, while such important cities
as Salonica had been captured. But Adrianople still held out beneath the
command of Shukri Pasha, while Scutari also resisted the Montenegrins.
It may be imagined therefore, that the presence of a strong force of
Turks in Adrianople made it essential that the allies should detach an
even stronger force to watch and hem in their enemy. For weeks the
armies had, in fact, watched one another, passage out of the beleaguered
city being impossible, while actual fighting was intermittent and
confined to mere skirmishing. But now pour-parlers between the allies
and the enemy had broken down. Terms for peace had been rejected by the
Ottomans, and as a consequence the war had been resumed after an
armistice of some weeks' duration. To force the Turks to accede to the
terms demanded by the allies, Adrianople must be taken, even at a great
cost, and it happened that the arrival of Andrew Provost and his friends
had coincided with this period. Indeed, a furious bombardment of the
city was to begin forthwith, shells were to pour into the streets and
about the houses, while the encircling forts were to be rushed one by
one, at huge cost to the allies and the Turks, and the siege pressed
daily closer. Here, then, was an explanation of this beginning
cannonade.

"Get down close to the wall," Dick called to his chum, as those
answering guns opened and that same tell-tale shriek sounded in the
distance. "Here come the shells. Hope they won't fall closer than
formerly, for what has happened to the Commander may very well happen to
us. Look out! Get down close. Wish to goodness there was a trench here
in which we could shelter."

In spite of the fact that a huge shell had just whizzed overhead, Dick
went scuttling along beside the wall on hands and knees in search of
some shelter. And hardly three minutes had passed before he was back
again close to Alec.

"There's a bit of a ditch close to the wall farther along there," he
said hastily. "Let's carry the Commander there. Wait, though, till that
beggar has passed us."

That beggar happened to be a shell whose advance they could hear, and
every instant they expected it to pitch in the ground somewhere beyond
them. But this time it failed to carry to such a distance, and landing
with a thud some few yards behind the wall beside which they lay, it
exploded with violence, almost smothering them with dirt and debris and
tipping stones from the wall upon them. At once Dick and Alec took the
Commander by his legs and arms and carried his unconscious figure away
from this danger zone till they reached the ditch of which the former
had spoken.

"Better be in the open for a while than in one of the houses," said
Dick, panting after such exertion, and bending over his officer. "I dare
say we could manage to discover a house that's deserted, for there are
sure to be numbers left untenanted at such a time. But the danger would
be greater there. If a shell happened to strike the place, and one were
not killed by it, one would stand the chance of being buried alive in
the ruins. Now, you're game to stick here and wait for a while?"

Of course Alec was game. He was getting quite accustomed to those
falling shells now, for more guns were speaking in the distance, and
shots were raining into the city. All he feared really was discovery,
and when he came to think of it the risk at present was not so very
great. Indeed, while there was darkness no one was likely to stumble
upon them, and less so just then when the enemy were battering the
place, and people had their attention fully engaged in looking after
their own security. It was when daylight came that the real danger would
arise, so that it was urgent that one of them should at once seek out a
place which would provide a haven.

"You hop off and leave the Commander to me, Dick," he said. "I ain't
afraid. If any of these Turkish beggars interfere with me, I'll--well,
I'll shoot 'em."

He felt for and handled the revolver with which Andrew had been careful
to arm his young friends, and then slipped it back into his pocket.

"Right-o!" he said. "Off you go. But don't get lost and fail to find us
again. Remember, too, that it's getting lighter; we ought to be hidden
somewhere within an hour, eh?"

"And shall be," answered the midshipman optimistically. "Keep your hair
on if people come near you, and lie low. This place seems to be out of
the way, so I don't anticipate you'll have any trouble. So long! I'm
going."

He rose swiftly to his feet and went off along the wall, the fingers of
one hand trailing along the stones of which it was composed. Perhaps he
went a hundred paces, more than that even, before the wall ended
abruptly, the termination being jagged and broken. A few feet beyond was
what appeared in the dim light to be a ruined house, while a few paces
more brought him to a cobbled street, into which a shell fell as he
entered. Stepping back into the shelter of a doorway, against which he
happened to have arrived, Dick waited for the following explosion. Then
he crossed the street, stepped on the narrow footway beyond and bumped
heavily into an individual at that moment emerging from an opening in
the house opposite. At once an angry shout burst from this stranger,
while Dick distinctly heard the clatter of the end of a sword against
the rough cobbles of the pathway. A moment later there was a glimmer of
light, a hand shot out of the darkness and seized him by the collar,
while the dark lantern, with its slide now drawn fully open, was turned
upon him.

"Ah! Who goes racing about the streets thus at night when every soldier
should be in the trenches, and every dog of a civilian in his house?"

The light was flashed full into his face. From the darkness behind the
lamp a pair of fierce Turkish eyes glared at Dick Hamshaw, and in an
instant the individual who had spoken shouted loudly.

"What! A European!" he cried. "In uniform too! How now? A spy!"

It may be imagined that poor Dick was dumbfounded. Not that he was
ignorant of what had been said or shouted by this stranger, for Dick was
quite a travelled individual and something of a linguist. But then he
was the son of a sailor, and his father had for some considerable while
been attached to the British Embassy at Constantinople. It happened,
then, that Dick spent some five years in that cosmopolitan city, where
he was surrounded by Ottomans, and forced to speak the language to some
extent at least, simply because his father's servants were Turkish.
There need be no surprise, therefore, that he at once took in the gist
of what was shouted, while he blinked at the lantern held so close to
his face. Then the hand gripping his collar seemed to stir him to
action, that and the fact that it suddenly left his clothing, while
there came a curious rasping sound telling him that this man had drawn
his sword.

Things were looking decidedly unpleasant he decided. But what was he to
do? Bolt! No, certainly not, for as the man swung to draw his weapon the
lamp was turned partly upon his own person, and in a flash Dick saw that
a revolver hung in his open holster. More than that, he saw that this
was an officer. The very next second, before the sabre had quite left
its scabbard, he had lunged forward desperately with one fist, into
which he put all the force of which he was capable.

"Spy!" The officer was in the midst of the shout when the blow struck
him on the forehead, for in the darkness Dick missed his aim and went a
trifle high. But a lusty fist, wielded though it was by a youth not yet
fully grown, and coming against the Turk's forehead so unexpectedly, had
a startling effect upon that individual. His sword left his hand and
went to the ground with a clatter, the man himself following swiftly and
landed upon the cobbles with a thump. As for Dick, he turned to bolt for
his life, guessing that other undesirable and inquisitive persons might
be near at hand and have heard that shout. But he need have had little
fear. If anyone had heard and were inclined to venture near, their
inclination was subdued at once by the landing of a shell some thirty
yards down this narrow street. Dick heard it crash against the cobbles
and instantly threw himself flat, being only just in time to escape the
succeeding explosion. A hot blast of flame and gas swept over his
recumbent figure. For one brief second the street and the mean houses on
either side were brilliantly illuminated, and then there was darkness
and silence again, save for dimly-heard shrieks of terror from the
distance and the moaning of a man nearer at hand. Dick scrambled to his
feet, turned to go, and then swung his head round to look at the spot he
had so recently vacated. There was a glimmer on the cobbles, and the
faint outline of a lamp turned on its side.

"Why not?" he asked himself. "A lamp would be useful later on perhaps.
That officer fellow is moaning. Wonder whether that's due to my blow or
to the shell which just now exploded?"

As a matter of fact, his sudden blow had considerably startled the Turk,
and had made him lose his balance with a vengeance. Then he had sat up
giddily, only to be struck by a stone hurled in that direction by the
explosion. Dick went hastily across to him, picked up the lamp, and
closely inspected his late enemy.

"Captain of an infantry battalion," he told himself. "No, not a captain;
merely a subaltern. Not so very old either. No hair on his face at any
rate. Let's see how he's dressed. Greatcoat, belts and sabre, and
revolver pouch. Nothing on his head at the moment but--ah, there's the
fez! Why, it just fits me. Now I wonder if----"

It was hardly the place to stop and wonder, for without doubt a general
bombardment had begun, and stray messages from the allies were falling
about him. Dick took the lamp and went to the opening from which this
officer had come. He pushed the door before him and found it opened
easily. He knocked loudly, then entered without hesitation, and threw
his light into the downstairs rooms. They were empty, as was also the
upper part of the house.

"Just the sort of little crib we want," he told himself. "Sorry, of
course, for the officer, but he shouldn't have been so inquisitive.
Anyway, I'll have to borrow some of his belongings. But first I'll fetch
Alec and the Commander."

Perhaps ten minutes later Commander Jackson was resting on a settee or
divan in the house which Dick had selected, while Dick and Alec rapidly
removed the Turk's greatcoat and fez as well as his weapons. Then they
picked him up, and staggered away with his unconscious figure till they
had gained a street some distance from the spot where he had accosted
our hero.

"That'll do. He'll be picked up by his friends some time, and won't soon
find his way back to the house. Jingo, ain't things humming!"

It was strange, as the morning light slowly stole upon the besieged city
of Adrianople and penetrated the windows of that house borrowed by Dick
and Alec, to see those two young hopefuls resting contentedly on the
divan running the length of an upstairs room, eagerly discussing the
food they had brought with them, as well as this curious situation. As
to the Commander, he was no longer snoring so stertorously. He was
conscious, and was gazing fixedly at his comrades.

"What next?" he was asking quite jovially in spite of his headache.

"That's it, sir," grinned Dick. "What next? That wants a heap of
guessing."




CHAPTER IX

Dick Hamshaw Saves the Situation


There was pandemonium in the city of Adrianople as daylight stole coldly
across the roofs of the houses and penetrated to mean streets and
alleys, to the interior of houses large and small, and to the cloistered
halls of the many mosques. Wailing could be heard on every side, the
frightened cries of women, the piteous, hungry sobs of infants and
children. For provisions had been short for a long time, while but seven
ounces of bread formed the daily ration of each soldier, and civilians
must fight for what they could see and live as best they could.

Shells rained into the place fitfully, ebbing and flowing as does the
sea. They came in shoals like mackerel, then intermittently, crashing
their way through roofs, thudding into the streets and open spaces, and
bursting to right and left. And then, of a sudden, they would cease to
fall. Comparative silence would reign in the city; while outside, in the
neighbourhood of the forts, could be heard the rattle of musketry,
incessant, rising and falling, overwhelmed every few seconds by some
violent detonation as a cannon was discharged, and running in waves from
one end of the defences to the other.

"Hard at it," said the Commander, listening to a great outburst. "You
may depend upon it that the allies have decided to take the place
whatever it may cost them. And if all the Turkish troops are like the
poor objects one sees from this window, why, this business won't be long
before it's ended. Meanwhile, if one may enquire, what are our
prospects?"

He turned with smiling face to Dick and Alec, though the hands
supporting his head on either side, and the anxious, drawn look about
his eyes, told that he was suffering. Indeed he had a dreadful headache
that morning, while the wound he had been unlucky enough to receive was
extremely painful.

"If one may enquire?" he said again, with polite and jovial satire. "I
am as a child in your hands, and, 'pon my word, you've done uncommonly
well. What happened after I was knocked over? Tell me, do. I am still
left gaping at the fact that a moment ago, as it seems to me, I was
crouching beside a wall waiting for a shell to wreak its vengeance upon
this unfortunate city. The very next, I appear to be in clover,
reclining on a most comfortable divan, and--er--er--watching you two
munching your rations. Now."

They told him all that had happened with a gusto there was no denying.

"And so you see, sir, here we are," added Dick, his mouth occupied with
a hunch of bread and cheese which the thoughtful Sergeant Evans had
provided.

"Precisely! Here we are. Afterwards, what? That's where I'm vastly
interested. We appear to have got into a charming little pickle. How do
we emerge from it?"

Neither Dick nor Alec could give him the smallest indication, for they
themselves were nonplussed by the curious situation into which they had
tumbled. Not that they had not given vast thought to the matter; for
even then Dick had risen from the divan and was staring through the
window, the noise of people moving down the cobbled street having
attracted him. He swung round after a while, reseated himself, and took
an enormous bite from the hunch of bread he was holding.

The Commander watched him as he ate it, watched him critically and with
some amusement. "Come," he said after a while. "What's the manoeuvre?"

Alec shook his head violently; Dick stood up, still munching, and once
more stared through the window. He did not mean to be disrespectful to
his senior, but, to be precise, his thoughts were so fully occupied at
that particular moment that he hardly heard the sentence. Presently he
turned again.

"I'm going out, sir," he said.

"Out! Impossible! You'd be spotted," cried the officer, his joviality
gone instantly.

"Hardly, sir. You see, or perhaps I should say, you will see the reason.
I can speak these fellows' lingo quite a little."

"Turkish?"

"Yes, sir. Father was quartered at Constantinople, at the British
Embassy. I was there a good five years, and so learnt to know all about
'em. If I was disguised I could pass easily, and so I'm going in the
gear of that officer."

"But--but why?" demanded the Commander.

"First, to find a more suitable crib for us, sir. That officer fellow
may recover consciousness just as quickly as you have done, and then he
may very well return to these quarters. That'd be bad for us. Next,
there's Major Harvey and his friend to be thought of. We couldn't very
well return aboard the airship without them."

"Certainly not. If they're to be found, then we find them," came from
the officer. "But--look here, Dick, this idea means danger, don't it?"

"Risk, perhaps, sir. Nothing more."

"Supposing you were spotted?"

The Commander sat up quickly and looked anxiously at the midshipman.

"Then it would be unlucky for me, sir," came Dick's steady answer. "Of
course, you and Alec would work hard to get back to the ship. But I
haven't been spotted yet, and don't mean to be. Someone's got to go out,
and I'm that someone, for I can understand these people. Now, Alec, give
me a help with this gear. Say, how do I look? Fairly smart, eh? That fez
always makes a fellow look fetching."

Dick made certainly quite a smart officer once he was dressed in the
greatcoat, belts, and pouches of his late assailant, while the fez gave
him quite an Oriental appearance. Indeed, the Commander was delighted.

"I don't half like letting you go, Dick," he said. "I'm the one who
should be taking this sort of risk. But there--I couldn't stand
steadily, and am therefore useless. Lad, shake hands. I'm glad you
belong to us, and I must say that you two youngsters have done
handsomely."

Dick coloured redly. Alec shuffled his feet and felt positively
uncomfortable. And then the former gripped each of his companions in
turn by the hand, saluted his officer, and turning, went out of the
room. They heard the front door bang. They heard his steps on the
cobbles, and looking out, Alec saw his chum strolling nonchalantly down
the street. Then he turned into another, and in an instant was lost to
view.

"Gone! Out of sight," he said, turning and speaking almost dismally to
the Commander.

"And good luck go with him! A plucky lad, a very plucky fellow!" cried
the officer. "But don't let's fret about him, for a midshipman's a
midshipman all over the world and a wonder at getting into and out of
scrapes. Now, let's see if we can get a fire going, for it's cold in
this room and I'm positively shivering."

It may be wondered meanwhile what had happened to the gallant Major who
had left the airship just two nights previous to Dick and his fellows.
If they had but known the truth he had set foot in this beleaguered city
within some fifty yards of the spot where they had landed. And then all
his efforts had been concentrated on the task of finding that elusive
individual known as Charlie. He groped his way around buildings and
along streets; and for hours haunted the precincts of that huge mosque
which the elusive Charlie had denoted as his probable location. The dawn
was breaking indeed before he thought of his own personal safety and the
need for some hiding-place. For the Major cut a conspicuous figure
wherever he happened to be. He looked, in fact, precisely what he was, a
soldier and a gentleman. Nor must the reader imagine for one moment that
he and "Charlie", the high-placed officer of whom he had spoken, were
merely spies engaged on some dangerous espionage. There is spying and
spying. There is the patriot who for the sake of his country, not for
mere filthy lucre or out of burning curiosity, will investigate matters
of moment, such as guns and forts and equipment used by possible enemies
of his country. And there are others who from the same patriotic motives
will endeavour to fathom some new negotiations between Powers other than
his own, some diplomatic move, some international conspiracy hatched in
the secret recesses of foreign offices, perhaps never set down on paper,
never signed and sealed, merely a secret compact, but still something of
vital importance for his own people. We do not profess to guess what
precisely was the business upon which the Major and his friend had been
engaged. It was secret, it was of vital importance, and it was of the
utmost delicacy. Let us, then, leave it there, merely remembering that
the elusive Charlie had intimated to the Major that he had succeeded in
his mission, while the authorities at home had thought so much of the
matter and desired that information so greatly that they posted the
Major to the great airship when on her world-wide tour, and urged Andrew
and Joe Gresson to hazard a visit to Adrianople, even at the risk of
wrecking a machine than which nothing would appear to be more valuable
to Great Britain.

It was with an inner knowledge of this delicate affair that the Major
strove to discover his friend, and for the moment we will leave him
hastening through the streets of the city, gazing into the faces of
passers-by as the dawn drew near, and risking discovery. In fact, he
merely forestalled Dick, for the young midshipman was now engaged in a
similar task with similar risks, seeking eagerly for those for whom he
and his friends had descended from the airship.

"And it's like looking for the usual needle in the usual bundle of hay,"
he grumbled, as he dived into another street and strode down it. "A
mighty small needle, by jingo! and an awfully big bundle of hay. But
there's always the mosque. That must be the big one, and I don't go a
step farther from it. My first job is to investigate every corner. So
round we go. We'll do the outside first, and then dive in."

People hurried past him, civilians with wan, lean forms and faces.
Half-starved soldiers dressed in rags, unshaven for weeks past, dragged
their weary limbs past him. An officer, a dapper enough fellow at one
time no doubt, stepped into the street before him, turned a hurried
gaze upon him, and then retreated with haste.

"Funny, that. Spotted me, eh?" Dick asked himself. "Then why did he bolt
as if he were afraid of me?"

It was a problem to which he gave his mind for some few minutes. He was
still worrying it out when almost a similar thing took place. Two
soldiers, under-officers without a doubt, tattered and dishevelled,
emerged from a doorway and halted immediately outside to peer up and
down the street. On seeing Dick's jaunty figure they bolted, positively
bolted.

"This beats me hollow," that young gentleman grumbled. "What's the
matter with me, or--er--with those jolly beggars? Surely it can't be
that they're--jingo! it looks it. What did that officer say?"

His mind went back to the encounter he had some little time before and
to the manner in which his assailant had accosted him. He recollected
that Adrianople was then being fiercely assaulted. If he had been
inclined to forget that fact there was the firing to tell him, that and
the roar of shells raining round the city. Yes, he could hear the battle
ebbing and flowing in the distance about the outlying forts which
protected all approaches to Adrianople.

"Got it!" he cried. "What have the papers said? Let's see. Little
enough, for correspondents have been barred and news sent by some of
them at least has been secondhand information written up in a house
perhaps a hundred miles from the fighting. But there's been awful
disorganization amongst the Turkish battalions. Men have been anywhere
at times except where they were wanted. Officers have lost their
commands, while, what with hardship, fear of wounds or worse, and
starvation, soldiers have strayed from their ranks or actually deserted.
Jingo! That's it. The fellows who have been scared of me are shirkers.
Lor! there seem to be a good many of 'em. That don't say much for the
chances of the defenders."

In any case the discovery he had made was of little moment and gave him
no help in his search. But it did put a little more dash and swagger
into our hero.

"If they don't see anything wrong about me and get scared so easily,
why, others'll be the same," Dick told himself with a grin. "I'll cut a
dash next time I meet a soldier. A bit of bounce'll help to deceive
'em."

He carried the plan out in a manner which would have made Alec scream
with laughing, for Dick was really too bold for anything. Meeting a
squad of men some few minutes later escorting an ammunition cart along
one of the streets he clanked his sword loudly, squared his shoulders,
and took their salute without a falter.

"My word! That's better," he grinned. "I'll be ordering 'em about before
I've done with this business. Hallo! A guard-house, eh? Yes, sentry
posted outside. Jingo, call him a sentry! Of course, I know the poor
beggar's been more than half starved for weeks past. But, what a
figure!"

The wretchedly ragged fellow outside this guard house did indeed cut
anything but a soldierly figure. He lolled against the post, his face
drawn and thin and vacant, and innocent of soap and water for days past.
And when, seeing an officer draw near, he shouldered his rifle, it was
in an uncouth and distinctly unmilitary manner.

"Like to see one of our tars give a salute like that," said Dick
bridling. "If the Turks are all like him, which I doubt, it ain't
surprising that those jolly Bulgarians and their allies have made such a
running. But let's get on. That's completed the round of the mosque. Now
we enter and see what's doing."

Unabashed by the presence of a sentry at the door of the mosque, Dick
marched boldly up to him and once more acknowledged a salute. Then he
donned a pair of shoes lying in the doorway and entered without
hesitation.

"It is empty," said the man over his shoulder. "I have orders to keep
all people from entering, all save those who command."

Dick nodded curtly. He wondered whether he ought to make some reply; but
fearing that the man would suspect him at once he went on without
halting.

"Though I've got to chance it some time," he said. "I've got to ask
questions so as to get information. Lor! why didn't I think of it
before? I'll be a foreign officer serving with the Turks. It's said that
there are something approaching a hundred German officers here in
Adrianople. Right! I ain't over particular which sort of a country it
is I come from. But I'm foreign. That's why I can't talk the lingo
perfectly. Now we take a look round and then come back to gather
information."

His tour of the mosque proved it to be much the same as others, except
that this was huge and more brilliantly decorated than those Dick was
accustomed to. It was deserted, without a doubt, not even a mullah being
present.

"They are gone in fear lest shells should strike the building,"
explained the sentry at the door when Dick questioned him. "Pardon, your
papers, please."

"Papers? Eh?" gasped Dick.

"All foreign officers carry papers to prove their identity. I took you
for one of our own nationality at first, but now that you speak, though
better than the majority, I see that you are foreign. Your papers,
please."

It was an awkward moment, and perhaps few others would have escaped from
it as did the light-hearted Dick. He gazed at the man in amazement. He
stamped his feet with seeming rage and fumed and growled loudly.

"What! You ask for papers while shells fall into the city and there is
fighting! You expect me to take such things into the trenches, then?
What next! I keep such things in my quarters where you can see them if
you come with me."

"Ah! Pardon, I did not think," the sentry answered abjectly. "Of course,
it is not the time to make such a demand."

"As if one could enter or leave the city!" growled Dick, pretending to
be only half appeased. "But there! let it pass. Tell me for what reason
is there a guard-house yonder?"

"To house the patrols who police the streets. In times of peace the
place is unoccupied."

"And now?" asked Dick curiously.

"There are a few men there. I myself shall be relieved by one of them."

"And prisoners?"

The sentry looked astonished. "Prisoners?" he asked, looking
suspiciously at Dick.

"Yes, prisoners," declared that young fellow without a falter. The high
hand he had played already had served his purpose wonderfully. Then why
not continue? "Did I not say prisoners plainly?" he asked curtly, at
which the man nodded abjectly. "Then why this surprise?"

"But--but pardon, sir, you asked as if it were not merely curiosity. It
seemed as if you might be interested in some other way," said the
sentry, emboldened for the moment and again surveying Dick in a manner
which, if it did not show suspicion, at least told of his dislike of all
foreigners. As for the midshipman, his interest was stimulated by the
curious stubbornness of the man. Dick recollected that he was in search
of Major Harvey, and that the latter had disappeared, had failed to
signal to the airship, and was lost for the moment. Supposing there were
prisoners yonder? Supposing this fellow and his mates placed in the
guard-house to police the neighbourhood of the mosque had seized upon
the Major and were holding him a prisoner? Was it likely that they had
reported their action? Hardly at such a time when the allies were
pressing an attack, and if they had sent in a report a day before, no
doubt in the hurry and bustle of hastening troops to meet that expected
assault the matter had been forgotten. However, this was all guesswork.
Dick had yet no certain information that prisoners were located in the
guard-house, though he had his suspicions.

"And I'm pretty sure that this fellow is trying to throw dust in my
eyes," he told himself. "It ain't difficult either to see why he's so
stubborn and sly. I'm a foreign officer attached to the Turkish army.
Half a mo'; I ain't. But that's what he takes me to be. Well, then,
supposing he and his fellows had bagged the Major, they'd expect me to
kick up a shindy and----"

In one instant he saw it all, and his suspicions were heightened.

"You have prisoners in the guard-house," he said severely. "Foreign
prisoners. I will see them. Stay here, man; have a care what you do and
say. Tell me, you reported the taking of these men?"

The sentry stood to attention, looking shamefaced and frightened.

"We could not," he excused himself. "No officer has visited us for two
days now. There is heavy fighting."

"Ah!" Dick regarded him severely. "You dared to neglect to report," he
cried angrily. "You took these men prisoner, careless whether they were
friends of your army or not. There will be more said upon this matter,
for learn this, idiot that you are. These men are wanted by His Highness
Shukri Pasha himself. Yes, by the general in command of the defenders."

Dick positively blushed at his own assurance and cheek, while the
unhappy sentry actually trembled. For this foreign officer was without
doubt very angry and filled with indignation.

"I--we," he began in an effort to excuse himself.

"March down to the guard-house with me," commanded Dick. "You shall be
relieved instantly, and shall yourself conduct me to these prisoners. A
more disgraceful and high-handed proceeding I never experienced, and His
Highness shall hear of it. To think that he is waiting for these men,
these foreigners, while you, you fools, sitting here near the
guard-house, hold them as prisoners."

Dick ought to have been an actor, for he stamped and raved at the
unfortunate fellow, and altogether impressed him so much with the
heinousness of the act he had committed that the sentry was ready to
sink into the ground or do anything to repair his blunder. He was a very
humble individual as he shambled down to the guard-house in front of
Dick and surlily bade his comrade make for the mosque and there relieve
him.

"Now, take me to these men," commanded Dick. "There are two?"

"No--three, sir," came the answer.

"Three!" Dick's hopes fell of a sudden. This statement that there were
three prisoners took the wind entirely out of his sails and robbed him
for the moment of his high-handed assurance. "Three!" he muttered. "I've
been groping in the dark all this while, guessing wildly. But I've also
been putting two and two together, and seeing that the Major was to make
for the surroundings of the great mosque and expected to meet his friend
there, why, when I gathered that this fellow and his comrades had made
prisoners of foreigners I made sure there must be two. If it had been
one that might still have been the Major taken prisoner before he had
met this Charlie. But three! That's a stunner!"

For a little while he stood watching the shambling figure of the man
going to take post at the door of the mosque. And then, roused by the
detonation of a shell in an adjacent place, he turned sharply upon the
fellow who stood before him.

"Three prisoners whom you have dared to hold without reporting!" he
cried. "Lead on, man; this is monstrous. Take me to them."

Thoroughly scared now by the anger of the foreign officer, whom he
imagined to be doing service with the Turkish army, and conscious that
by making captures and failing to report he had been guilty of a serious
offence, the man upon whom Dick, with his unblushing cheek and wonderful
assurance and resource, had so completely turned the tables proceeded to
obey his orders with a meekness which was apparent. In fact, he was
obviously anxious to appease the anger of this officer, and so escape
punishment for his remissness.

"Follow, sir," he said. "There are three prisoners as I have told you,
and it may be that when you see how ready I am to act on your orders,
you will forget the fact that I failed to send a report, remembering
too, that the times are very unsettled."

They were that without a doubt, for all this while the distant rattle of
musketry could be heard, rolling round the defences, now breaking out
here with a severity which showed that an attack was probably being
forced home, perhaps even at the point of the bayonet, and then dying
down quite suddenly only to break out with virulence in another
direction. And every now and again, sometimes very frequently, at others
after quite a lull, heavy guns would open, shells would scream through
the air, and rarely now one of the monsters would drop into the streets
of the city or plunge amongst the houses, when the succeeding explosion
would be followed by heartrending shrieks, by piercing cries, by the
anguished calls of the helpless and defenceless.

Yes, the times were unsettled enough; Dick had his own troubles and
could therefore sympathize. He bade the man hasten, and followed into
the guard-house.

"And there was good reason for making these men prisoners," said the
Turk, pushing his fez to the back of his head and turning to our hero,
still with the hope that he might excuse his own breach of the standing
orders of the army. "I will tell you. One, a big man----"

"Yes, a big man," said Dick eagerly. "The Major without a doubt," he
told himself.

"A big man, and fat, very."

"Ah! Fat! Then that cannot be the Major. Get along with it," cried Dick
peevishly, his hopes wrecked in a moment.

"Fat and big," went on the man. "We saw him in converse with some of the
stragglers who had left the lines of trenches. He was inciting them to
stay away."

"Or to return to their duty, which?" asked Dick curtly.

"The former, we thought," came the answer. "We arrested him. He was
angry and shouted and threatened; but since he could speak only a few
words of our language we could not understand the cause of his anger.
Then there were two others, foreigners."

"Ah! Describe them," Dick almost shouted. It was hard indeed at this
moment to restrain his eagerness.

"One, tall, and spare, and like a soldier."

"The Major," Dick told himself. "Hooray! Things are going to come
right."

"And the other older, getting grey, also tall, and spare, and
soldierly."

"Lead me to them at once," demanded Dick. "They are the men whom His
Highness desires to interview. Come, lead quickly; there will be trouble
about this matter."

That set the sentry shivering with apprehension, and made him still
more eager to appease the officer who had accosted him. Leading the way
towards the back of the guard-house, he took down a bunch of keys strung
to a hook on the wall and with their help opened a cell. Dick looked in.
An ill-kempt, unwieldy man dressed in the uniform of an officer was
seated on a stone bench and scowled as the two appeared. And then,
recognizing Dick as an officer he burst into a torrent of abuse,
expressed in a language of which the midshipman was ignorant.

"Not my bird at any rate," he told himself. "My! Listen to the fellow.
I'm sorry for him, awfully. But I can't get mixing myself up in his
affairs. Now, let us see the others," he demanded of the Turk.

A minute later they were peering into an adjacent cell, in which Dick
instantly recognized the Major. As for the latter, though he looked at
our hero very hard and with suspicion, there was no recognition until
Dick spoke.

"Major," he said. "Please be careful as I am disguised as a Turkish
officer. I have come to demand your release."

"Demand my release! Turkish officer! Why, it's--it's Mr. Midshipman
Hamshaw."

"Present, sir," grinned that young gentleman, saluting. "You see," he
said, swinging round upon the soldier. "He recognizes me, and so does
the other officer. Ah! There will be bad trouble over this, when Shukri
Pasha gets to hear of it. Yes, trouble which----"

A groan escaped the wretched sentry. Ever since he had exchanged words
with Dick, he had been conjuring up all sorts of pains and penalties as
a consequence of his rashness. His knees positively knocked together as
he besought this officer to spare him and forget the matter.

"Release them at once," cried Dick peremptorily. "Now, listen. If His
Highness asks no questions, well and good. Perhaps we shall not be too
late for this discussion even now, that is if you hasten. As to the
third officer, hold him till you receive a written order, or till an
hour has passed. Now, stand aside. Major, please follow."

"But--but you don't mean to tell me that you have obtained our release?"
cried that astonished officer. "How? And where are we to go?"

"Please follow as if you had every right to be at liberty," answered
Dick. "I'll tell you later how I've worked it. But come at once, for
there is no saying when other soldiers may turn up, with perhaps an
officer."

He stalked before them out of the guard-house and led the way into the
streets of Adrianople, streets for the most part still untenanted. For
civilians lay at home shivering beneath the cruel bombardment, and
fearful of those dreadful shells. They were coming again into the city,
and more than once Dick and the two who followed had to dodge behind
some building to escape the bursting of a bomb.

"And now, perhaps, you'll tell us where we are going," said the Major,
when they had gained a smaller street. "To the airship? Impossible. She
would never dare to come here in daylight. Then where?"

"To join Commander Jackson and Alec," answered Dick. "We entered the
city last night in search of you both. But--hush! Lookout! Let's hurry.
If that isn't the very fellow I most wanted to avoid."

A figure had dived into the street immediately behind them, a figure
strangely familiar. Dick eyed him suspiciously, and then recognized him
with a start. For this man's head was swathed in bandages which left his
face fully exposed, and that face was young, and smooth, and hairless.
In fact, it was the very officer against whom he had collided on the
previous night.

"Had he been back to his house and there discovered Alec and the
Commander? Or was he now on his way?"

Dick asked himself those urgent questions, and then, spurred on by fear
and dreadful foreboding hastened along the street, the Major and his
friend close beside him, and the inquisitive officer in rear. Soon they
turned into the street in which that house they sought was located, and
for a moment the follower was out of sight.

"Run!" cried Dick, and took to his heels. "Now, into this house. Alec!"
he called.

"Here," came back a jovial call. "And the Commander, both of us getting
a bit anxious about you."

"Shut the door and bolt it," commanded Dick, careless of the presence of
his seniors. "Now, peep through the windows. The owner of this house
was following us a moment ago. If he tries to enter, keep perfectly
quiet. I'm going to see how we can manage to get out of what may prove
to be a trap."

If they had any doubts of that follower, these were cleared on the
instant. There came the sound of steps on the cobbles, and then a heavy
blow upon the door.

"Open--open in the name of the Sultan!"

Not one of those within answered. They stood back from the window
waiting and watching. "Open!" they heard the command repeated, and then
there followed a shrill whistle.

"Look, men are running across from a house almost opposite," whispered
Major Harvey, peering through the window. "This begins to look ugly, and
I'm not so sure that we should not be better off in our prison. Listen
to them, and see that fellow carrying a huge hammer."

There came a crashing blow upon the door an instant later, a blow that
almost shattered the lock. It was clear that within a few minutes the
irate individual outside and his helpers would force an entrance. The
Major turned in bewilderment to the Commander, for he could not quite
understand this new situation. Then Dick burst in upon them.

"Come along," he said. "Let's sling it. There's a way out at the back,
and I know a place that'll shelter us. Quick! Those chaps will be in in
a moment."

They did not wait to argue or discuss the matter with him but followed
at once. Stealthily departing by a door in rear of the building they
dived into a narrow alley, and from that place heard a crash as the door
of the house was beaten in. Then they turned and fled through the
streets of Adrianople with a dozen Turks hotfoot after them.




CHAPTER X

A Thrilling Rescue


Perhaps no quainter or more exciting situation could be imagined than
that which found Dick Hamshaw and his little party scuttling down the
dark streets of Adrianople. For there he was, leading surely a strange
following.

"Enough to make the people open their eyes and rub 'em hard," he told
himself with a grin, for Dicky was not the one to be scared easily or
disheartened. "Here we are, led by a Turkish officer, that's me;
followed by a British naval officer, in uniform too, that's the
Commander, and jolly groggy he seems to be after that wound of his. Then
there's Alec--well, nothing out of the ordinary--while behind come the
Major, almost a stranger, though we know all about him, and then
'Charlie', dear old Charlie."

"Where away? Where are you leading to?" suddenly came from the Major.
"We've gained on those beggars. Hadn't we better stop a moment and
discuss matters?"

Discuss matters when they were almost blown, and when the Turks were
rushing pell-mell after them!

"Good idea," cried Dick cheerily. "In here! Come along. Now, bang the
door. Jingo! Hope there ain't other people to kick up a rumpus."

Really his cheek and coolness were amazing, for hardly had the Major
finished calling when Dick halted at a doorway leading into a small
dwelling, threw it open, and beckoned them to enter. Then he banged the
door to, and leaving his friends went off on a tour of inspection.

"All bright-o!" he whispered, reappearing. "Place empty. No one here for
a long while and not a scrap of food. I squinted into what must be their
larder."

"H--hush! There they are. Foiled for the moment," whispered the Major,
peering through a narrow window. "Wait! They've halted and are looking
about them. One of the men is pointing up the street, and let's hope
they'll make off in that direction. Good! There they go as if the old
gentleman himself were behind them. Now; what's the meaning of all this
bother, and how comes it that you are masquerading in Turkish uniform?
Dick, my boy, you've a heap to answer for. Seriously, though, I'm
eternally obliged to you for liberating us from that prison. That
reminds me. I haven't so far had an opportunity of making formal
presentations. Commander Jackson, let me introduce Colonel Steven,
Intelligence Department, War Office, the 'Charlie' we've come after.
Colonel, my excellent friends and comrades Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw and
Alec Jardine. Now you all know one another."

Cordial hand-grips were exchanged all round, and here again one may say
that seldom before was there such a curious meeting. As for "Charlie",
the gallant Colonel Steven, Dick and his friends liked his looks
immensely. He smiled at them all, not in the least ruffled by what had
been passing.

"'Pon my word, gentlemen," he said, "but it needs an active man to keep
touch with your movements. First I come most miraculously in contact
with my friend, the Major, who descends actually and really from the
sky. Then, when I am reclining comfortably in a prison where the
circumstances of the bombardment, the breakdown of all discipline, and
the natural hate of an Ottoman made it likely enough that I and the
Major might have our throats slit, there appears upon the scene a
Turkish officer, who is not a Turkish officer, but a midshipman from our
own fleet, and who likewise has descended from the sky. Lastly, I am
taken to a place of refuge which is no place of refuge, and from which I
am bundled before even I have time to be formally acquainted with other
gentlemen, birds of the same feather as my friend the Major. Really,
this is almost enough for one long day."

Cool! Of course he was cool. His pleasant satire showed that, while his
easy smile, his jaunty manner, the knowledge that he had been engaged on
an important and doubtless dangerous enterprise made Dick and his
friends take to the Colonel promptly. And naturally enough, though the
midshipman was not easily abashed, he now waited for his seniors to give
a lead. Not that the Commander was capable of doing so.

"I've a head that feels as big as a football and heavier than lead," he
told them, sitting down of a sudden and looking faint. "Carry on without
me; I'll be better in a twinkling."

"Then we turn to Dick. The Navy commands here," smiled Colonel Steven,
while the Major nodded. "Have the goodness, Mr. Dick, to issue your
orders. Really, though, lad, you have the situation at your finger tips.
Do we stay here, or do we issue out again and seek some other
residence?"

Dick removed his fez and scratched his head. It was not, perhaps, a very
refined operation, but it seemed to help.

"You see," he began, "I'm thinking about the airship and how we are to
rejoin her. Supposing we hide here and send up a flare to-night. Well,
these johnnies may catch sight of the flame and rush us before we can
board the lift. Awkward that, very."

"Then let us suppose that we change our quarters. Are we better off?"
asked the Colonel.

"Perhaps. If we can find a crib, sir, that's easier to hold, more
ungetatable as one might say."

"For instance," interjected the Major. "You've some such crib in your
mind's eye, Dick."

"Well, there's the mosque. It's empty, save for a sentry at the door.
There are four towers at least there, and I climbed up one of 'em this
very morning. Now, a stairway could be held. There are no doors and
windows in all sorts of directions. Besides, we'd be above the beggars
who wanted to get us, and that'd be an advantage. We could hold out
perhaps till the airship arrived to take us."

It was a likely enough suggestion, and the two soldiers thought well of
it. But the Colonel soon put his finger on what appeared to be a weak
spot.

"We're up in this tower, let's imagine," he said. "Then the ship comes.
We're bottled in perhaps. How do we emerge? How reach the line which
this ship throws out to us?"

"Wait. You haven't seen the airship yet," cried Alec. "Wait, sir, and
you'll have an eye-opener. She can pick us up easily wherever we are,
even on the top of a chimney, for her lift can be manoeuvred with an
ease and certainty that will astonish you. Oh yes, it don't matter where
we happen to get to, Mr. Andrew and Joe can reach us."

There was pride in his voice. His words conveyed the impression that if
anything in this world were a success it was the curious lift attached
to the great airship, although, as a matter of course, that huge vessel
was of even greater excellence. But it can be imagined that to one who
had never seen the ship floating in the air, who had never even set foot
upon her galleries, nor climbed to the height of her upper deck, it was
hard to believe that what Alec described so glowingly could in fact be
possible. Not that the gallant Colonel was a sceptic, or in the habit of
decrying new inventions, or disbelieving in the possibility of things
that he had never seen. On the contrary, he was very much awake and
alive to the astonishing progress to be observed on every side,
particularly progress appertaining to mechanics. For has not the latter
end of the nineteenth century, and the beginning of the present seen an
amazing advancement on every hand, an advancement beside which the
progress of the so-called Victorian era pales almost to insignificance?
Think of the conquest which the internal-explosion motor has
accomplished, of the rapid road and sea locomotion it has made possible,
of the trackless pathways of the air which it has thrown open to human
beings. For the beginning and the end of man's first successful journeys
at speed through the air, upon machines heavier than the atmosphere
which supports them, is attributable almost solely to the petrol motor,
that internal-explosion engine which less than twenty years ago was but
the crudest of inventions.

Colonel Steven had kept in close touch with the whole movement, and had,
during the hours he lay in prison with the Major, listened to his
description of the wonderful airship which Joe Gresson and his uncle had
constructed. He was burning to board the vessel, to ferret out its
secrets, to understand its construction; and he may be forgiven if he
failed to comprehend quite how the ship could manage to remove himself
and his friends even from the tower of a mosque, should the party happen
to find themselves in such a position. However, the discussion as to
their movements was cut short at the moment. Cries were heard from the
street, and the Major soon made an important announcement.

"That fellow again!" he cried, in low tones. "He and his followers had
run out of sight, and I was in hopes that we had thrown them off the
scent. But they are coming back, yes, and numbers have joined them. All
the ragtag and bobtail of this terrible city have joined in the search."

Dick dived towards the window there to join him, and stood peering out
into the street. It was true enough that the man who led these searchers
was returning, and true too that others had joined his following.
Indeed, some fifty ragged fellows were trailing after that young Turkish
officer, whose head was swathed in bandages, and amongst them,
immediately in rear of the officer, was no less a person than the sentry
whom Dick had accosted at the door of the mosque, and whom he had duped
so cleverly.

"Jingo!" he cried, turning with a somewhat scared expression upon the
company. "They've got to the bottom of the whole business. The chap in
advance is the beggar I collided with last night, and I suppose he's
anxious to get back these clothes I was compelled to borrow. Then
there's the man who was at the guard-house, and who helped to put the
Major and the Colonel in prison. Jingo! They're entering the houses on
either side and searching them."

There was a blank look upon the faces of the forlorn little party. Not
that they were frightened, or were likely to submit themselves as
prisoners without a struggle. But the outlook was black without a doubt.
This mob of Turkish soldiers, dressed in their ragged khaki uniforms,
unkempt, undisciplined, capable of any violence now that the only
authority over them was represented by a single youthful officer, were
searching every corner, and when they came to the house in which Dick
and his friends had sheltered they would find the party, would drag them
out and then, perhaps, shoot them.

"Nasty place," admitted the Colonel. "Regular troops might be trusted to
make prisoners of us, to treat us decently, and wait for their officers
to investigate the matter. Now----" he shrugged his shoulders. "Well,"
he said, "we might find ourselves placed against a wall and shot down
deliberately. Adrianople is in a condition of disorder, which one may
imagine will get worse rather than better. Who is to prevent violence
just now, when every soldier who can be controlled is in the firing
line? That officer? No."

"Not he!" Dick cried. "He was furious last night. He'll be more angry
this morning. Besides, all these fellows are wasters, men who ought to
be in the forts but who have slunk to the rear. I ain't going to wait to
be torn to pieces, or shot out of hand. They've rifles with them, sir."

"While we have revolvers," said the Major coolly. "Now, Dick, you're
leader still. What happens? Do we wait for these gentlemen, or--what?"

"We pick the Commander up, carry him out at the back of the house, and
slink off to the great mosque," came the instant answer. "It's not more
than three hundred yards from us, and if we can only get within easy
distance we can keep this mob off with our weapons. Shall I lead the way
out of the back door, sir?"

"At once," came promptly from the Colonel. "See, I am a strong man, and
as hard as nails. I will shoulder the Commander. Come, Jackson," he
said, turning to the naval officer who had meanwhile struggled to get to
his feet, and had sunk back almost fainting. "Now, up you go. That's the
way. Cling with your arms round my neck. I've a good grip of your legs,
and can manage to use my revolver. Ready, Dick."

"Then off we go," cried the Major. "First Dick, then the Colonel, then
Alec. I bring up the rear, and Alec can help me if there's any bother.
Come, don't let us delay any longer; those ruffians are already getting
far too close for our safety."

Silently opening the rickety back door of the house that had sheltered
them, Dick peered out and issued into the open.

"Come," he called gently. "There's a garden here, and a door at the end.
It ought to take us into another street and so away from those beggars.
Listen to 'em. They're kicking up more row than those fellows away in
the trenches."

To speak the truth, this mob of unattached individuals in search of our
friends were by now infuriated at their want of success, for it began to
look as if they had been completely hoodwinked. Some fifty of them were
dashing into and out of the houses, breaking doors open with the stocks
of their rifles without the smallest ceremony, and venting upon
cupboards and beds and woodwork, where they imagined someone might be
hiding, all the ferocity they might have been expected to display had
they been directly engaged with the Bulgarians. Many had their bayonets
fixed, and drove them deep into recesses, into dark corners, and through
the very heart of the gigantic mattresses on some of the beds. They
bellowed at one another. Some even slipped cartridges into the breeches
of their rifles and fired into the cellars and through the windows of
the houses. Altogether there was pandemonium in that part of the city,
pandemonium made worse by the rattle of musketry in the distance, by
those bursting shells which still clattered amidst houses and streets,
and by the shrill cries of terror, by the sobs and execrations of the
civil population now subjected to this added trouble.

"Ah! See! We have found their last lair. Look!"

The sentry whom Dick had accosted at the mosque came rushing from the
door of the tenement which our hero had but just vacated and waved an
object aloft. It was a cap, the same which the Colonel had been wearing,
and which the effort to lift the Commander to his back had dislodged
from his head. In an instant the Turk had pounced upon it, and there he
was now in the street, calling the officer and his ragged following
towards him, gesticulating and shouting.

"See! I remember this cap. It was upon the head of one of our prisoners,
one of the foreign spies sent in here by the Bulgarians."

"And the men themselves. You saw them also?" asked the officer,
snatching the cap from him.

"The house is empty. They are gone. That cap proves that they were there
lately."

"Fool! Did you not look for them? Did you not attempt to discover whence
they had gone?" was shouted at him, while the furious officer looked as
if he were capable of shooting him down in his anger. "Into the house,"
he bellowed. "Empty! Nothing here to keep us. Then out at the back.
Look. The ground is soft after the melting of the snow. Here are fresh
footmarks. Follow! Follow!"

Led by the officer the mob went tearing down the tiny garden of the
humble tenement, and burst their way through the gate at the bottom.
Indeed, in their eagerness and fury at having been so duped, and in
their knowledge that order was done with in Adrianople for the moment,
they tore the gate from its hinges, trampled upon a couple of harmless
civilians walking in the road to which the gate gave entrance, and then
seized and beat them unmercifully.

"Release their throats so that they may speak!" commanded the brutal
young officer who led this riotous following. "Now, we seek some
foreigners who but lately escaped along this road. You saw them? What!
You shake your heads. Shoot them!"

It was a sample of the justice and treatment which Dick and his friends
might encounter if they fell into the hands of these rascals. At such a
time it seemed that friend and foe were alike to these men, skulkers for
the most part. Furious at the thought that the two unfortunate people
they had come upon could not help them they hurried them to the house
opposite, and perhaps would even have gone to the length of shooting
them had not one of the poor wretches shouted at the top of his voice:

"We can help you," he called. "Give us but the opportunity, and I swear
by the Koran that we can speak. But you have beaten the breath from our
bodies."

"Then release them. Speak!" commanded the officer. "We seek some
foreigners."

"Five men passed us but a few minutes ago, one of whom was injured and
was borne by a comrade. They were hurrying towards the great mosque, and
a Turkish officer led them."

"The same--the ones we seek! They went this way?" demanded the officer.

Hardly had the route been indicated when the whole mob was in motion
again, racing off along the street in pursuit of our hero. Nor was it
long before these wretches came in sight of the forlorn little party. A
shriek of glee escaped them immediately. Men levelled their rifles as
they ran and pulled their triggers, careless where the bullets went,
while the ruffianly officer drew his revolver and sent shot after shot
at Dick and his fellows.

"Keep straight on, Dick," the Major sang out. "Those fellows couldn't
hit a haystack at the pace they're going, so we've only fluke shots to
chance. That's the mosque, ain't it?"

"Yes, sir," Dick called out over his shoulder. "Two minutes'll do it.
Then we cross the floor of the hall, reach the foot of one of the
towers, and then, by jingo, the business begins with a vengeance."

"Then on we go. When we reach the tower, let Alec help the Colonel carry
our wounded friend to safety. You and I, Dick, 'll do our best to teach
these rascals a lesson. Ah! That's a sentry."

Well, it was a sentry at the moment the Major was speaking, for a ragged
Turk emerged from the entrance to the mosque and stared in amazement at
the scene before him. It filled him with perplexity to observe a Turkish
officer racing in his direction, followed by a strange quartet, one of
whom was carried on the shoulders of a comrade, while in rear, and
getting rapidly closer came a mob of his own fellows, led again by an
officer whose head was swathed in soiled bandages. However, he was as
sharp as others of his country and smelling a rat immediately swung his
rifle up to his shoulder and covered the dashing Dick. But his finger
never quite reached the sights. Indeed, as we have intimated, he was a
sentry at the moment the Major called to our hero. The next he was
merely a bundled-up and extremely astonished human object. For Dick
planted a seaman's blow on the end of his prominent nose, a blow that
brought a thousand stars to the eyes of this sluggish Turk, and toppled
him backward in masterly fashion.

"One for his boko!" shouted the incorrigible Dick. "Number two does for
his rifle. Ah! The pouch of cartridges might be useful. Here we are.
I've got 'em both. Now, we make for the tower--quite close and handy."

It was a little more than ten yards across the floor of the hall, and
long before the followers had reached the door of the mosque the Colonel
had entered the narrow door that led to the steep steps ascending to the
summit of the tower. Alec followed instantly, and together the two bore
the now almost unconscious Commander upward. Dick slung his borrowed
rifle over his shoulder, strapped the cartridge belt about him and
leaned against the wall mopping his forehead. As for the Major, he blew
his nose loudly, brushed some dust from his boots with an impatient
movement, and then turned smiling towards his companion.

"Congratulations once more," he said in the complimentary tones he would
have used in a drawing-room. "And next, please?"

Dick flushed a rosy red, and then spoke out promptly.

"Still to lead, sir?" he asked.

"Of course, lad! Why not? Haven't you done well for us? Besides, this is
entirely a naval expedition, while for the moment I am merely a
civilian."

"Then, now that we've given Alec and the Colonel a little start we had
better retire up the steps. Those fellows could rush us here. But higher
up it wouldn't be so easy. That right, sir?"

"Certainly; up we go--ah! The steps curl round and round a central
pillar. That's really excellent. You go ahead, Dick; I'll follow. The
higher we can get the better, I think, for then we string these men out
so that the front of the line is a good distance from those who follow.
Listen!"

They stood still for one brief moment, and listened to the mob of Turks
enter the mosque. Scurrying steps could be heard on the hard pavement,
while for the most part the men themselves were silent. A minute later,
however, while Dick and his friend were still ascending, a shout came
rolling up the narrow, curling stairway.

"This way, comrades," they heard. "This way! The sentry at the door
tells us that they rushed across to this tower and entered. Now,
friends, we have them safely. Let us consider our movements."

There came the confused sound of men discussing some matter volubly.
Occasionally one of the Turks would raise his voice above the others,
then there was silence.

"Wait! Don't move for a moment," said the Major. "Now, what's
happening?" He placed his ear to the central column which bore this
curling flight of steps and stood motionless for some few seconds.

"Coming up to us as quietly as they can," he said softly. "The time for
giving them that lesson or for going under is coming. Do we stay here,
or climb higher?"

"Higher, sir, I think. It's too dark to see easily here, but there's a
window up above us. If we get a little higher than that, we shall be in
the dusk and see these beggars nicely. I'll call to them when they come
in sight and warn 'em."

It was not a time for words nor for a discussion, and promptly the two
climbed higher, halting when they were some six feet above a small,
unglazed opening, which admitted light and air to the stairs. Here they
were joined a moment later by the Colonel.

"Came back to join in this little picnic," he whispered. "We left the
Commander on a wide balcony up there, from which one gets a really
magnificent view of this awful city, and even of the lines of the
besiegers and the Turkish forts and trenches surrounding the place. The
minaret runs up a great deal higher, and there is a stairway. But the
balcony is good enough for us, and if we are driven there we can hold
the entrance to it. Well, now, how does the matter go?"

He was as cheery and as cool as if he were at home in his own rooms in
London. That is, he was calm and by no means ruffled at the thought of
the danger with which the little party was confronted. But as to being
actually cool, one could hardly expect that after his recent exertions.
The perspiration was streaming from his forehead, though he mopped his
brow time and again, and still panted heavily.

"Hard work clambering two hundred steps with a heavy man on your back,"
he laughed. "And these naval johnnies are heavy, I can tell you. Well?
How do we stand?"

The Major lifted a warning finger to his lips. "Gently does it, Steven,"
he said. "They're coming. Dick here will call to them and give the
rascals a warning when the first gets in sight. But I don't fancy
that'll stop 'em. Let's be ready for a turn up."

"S-sh! There's the leader."

The Colonel hardly whispered the words. He was pointing down the curling
stairway, and there, some ten feet below the open window, coming into
the flood of light which poured in through that aperture, was a crafty,
crawling figure, a man clambering up the stairs on hands and knees, a
young man gripping a revolver in one of his hands and causing the barrel
of the weapon to clink on the stones each time he put that particular
hand down.

"Now," whispered the Major.

"Halt!" called Dick, sternly, in the Turkish tongue. "You who follow us,
halt now, or take the consequences, and listen well to these words. We
are not spies. We are Englishmen, friends of the Turkish nation."

For some few seconds there was silence, a deathly silence, broken,
however, by the deep breathing of the Colonel, and by the deeper gasps
for breath of many of the mob clambering upward. Then came the clink of
that revolver barrel, a hoarse oath from the Turkish officer bearing it,
for the young officer with whom Dick had collided still led this band of
ragamuffins, and later a swelling shout of rage from the stairway,
pouring from the throats of furious men perched at various elevations.
An instant later the officer stood upright, his weapon flashed, while a
bullet struck the curving wall just beside the Colonel, and went
ricochetting off it till it thudded and stopped against one of the
steps.

"Good! That at any rate tells us what to expect," said the Major grimly.

"Stand back, Colonel, and you too, Dick. No use all three of us chancing
a bullet. It's lucky, too, that this stairway curves always to the
right, for that lets one shoot without peering round. A right-handed man
coming up will be bothered. Yes, I thought so."

Peering round the curving central pillar which bore the steps he caught
sight of the officer's head, for he and Dick and the Colonel had started
backwards after that first shot. The man's body then came into full
view, and lastly his right arm, with his weapon pointed upward.
Instantly the Major's weapon cracked, while the Turk dropped his
revolver with a howl.

"Very nice shooting," reflected the Colonel. "Back of the hand, I think,
Major. It'll make him more cautious."

Or more furious. The latter seemed to be the case, for that howl of pain
was followed by a bellow and by a hoarse roar of anger and excitement
from below. A hundred feet then shuffled on the various steps, while the
officer, his eyes blazing with anger, launched himself upward. But the
revolver was no longer in his wounded hand, a fact which the Major
noticed with wonderful sharpness. Indeed, his own movements showed
within the minute that he was fully awake, and ready for an emergency.
They saw him step hastily downward and throw his shoulders backward. And
then out shot one of his fists, repeating the blow which Dick had
delivered to this pugnacious individual on the previous night. And now,
as before, it was equally effective, for the officer shot backward as if
struck by a hammer, and, cannoning into the man behind, upset him also.
In fact, half a dozen of the mob were thrown down by the Major's sudden
action, their cries and shouts deafening Dick and the others. The noise
which followed was positively terrifying, for fifty furious Turks
shouted and screamed their loudest, while not a few let off their
weapons careless of the consequences. As for the head of this attacking
force, relieved now of its leading spirit--for the officer lay stunned
upon the stairway, and would have rolled downward but for the press
about him--it showed wonderful dash and determination. Fanaticism and
hate had stirred these men to fury, and without a pause they rushed up
the stairs, some with bayonets thrusting forwards, others heralding
their approach with rifle bullets. It was clear, in fact, that they
would quickly smash their way through all obstacles, and though the
Major and Dick and the Colonel in turn brought down a man with their
weapons, thus delaying the others, and for some few minutes faced the
attackers, discretion bade them retire towards the gallery.

"There's a door there that we can shut and bolt and bar outside," cried
the Colonel. "It'll be the last stage in this business, but safer and
better than stairs fighting. Now, up you go."

"After you, sir," said Dick, touching his cap in nautical fashion.

"Eh? After me, why?" began the Colonel. Then he laughed and smacked the
midshipman gaily on the shoulder. "Sinking ship, eh?" he grinned.
"Never! But the skipper leaves last, that's it, my lad. Like your grit
immensely, that I do. Well, Major, do you or do I lead the retreat?"

A sharp crack came from that officer's weapon. He jerked his head
quickly, leaned forward, and again pulled his trigger. "You," he said at
length. "I'm busy; in a moment I'll follow. Dick, look out for these
beggars, and run up immediately after me."

"Right, sir! Certainly, sir!" came from the youthful Dicky.

"Then off we go." The Colonel left his friends guarding the stairs and
ran up three at a time. Then the Major followed, while Dick waited
coolly to convey to a charging Turkish fanatic the fact that there was
danger above, and then went scampering after the others.

"Here he is. In you come, my boy. Now, bang the door; that's got it!"

The Colonel threw the massive door at the top of the steps against its
supporting frame and leaned against it, while the Major slipped the
bolts into position. Then, gasping after their exertions, they turned to
observe Alec and the Commander. Imagine their amazement at seeing the
former stripped to his vest, and frantically waving his shirt over the
stone balustrade of the gallery. His face was purple with excitement,
his eyes were blazing, while he shouted as if he had suddenly gone
crazy. And then, while the two more sedate officers watched him in
amazement. Dick began of a sudden to copy his antics. He danced across
the gallery; he shouted and waved his hands and threw his cap upward.

"Mad! Gone suddenly crazy! What on earth has happened to them?" demanded
the Major anxiously.

Then Dick swung round upon him and the Colonel, subdued his own
excitement with a violent effort, and, drawing himself upright, saluted
briskly.

"Airship in sight, sir," he said. "Alec reports that he's called 'em up
with his signals, and--and they'll be here in a jiffy."




CHAPTER XI

Some Facts and Figures


How strange to be upon the transparent galleries of the great airship
again, to tread those flimsy-looking but undoubtedly stout floors, and
to look upward at the giant framework, all transparent, faintly outlined
for the most part, appearing to be filled with emptiness, and yet
enclosing the life of this enormous vessel! Yes, it was strange indeed!
The relief was so great that it positively set the gallant Major
dancing, while the Colonel, though he had stepped from the lift fifteen
minutes earlier, still mopped his brow and blew heavily, as if
recovering from some extraordinary sensation.

"'Pon my word," he spluttered time and again. "'Pon my word, that
experience was really terrifying. I felt positively scared, frightened,
almost paralysed by the enormity of the danger."

Once more he mopped his forehead, while the genial Andrew regarded him
with friendly interest.

"Quite so, quite so, Colonel," he ventured. "Narrow shave; very. I'd
have been scared, too, dreadfully, I do assure you. How many of the
rascals were there?"

"Rascals! What! You don't think?" began the gallant officer, still
mopping his forehead, and regarding Andrew with every sign of
indignation. And then he smiled, the first time since he had set foot on
the airship. "Really, Mr. Provost, I think? Yes, Mr. Provost, you do not
think that I was referring to those rascals from whom we so recently
escaped? I, er--don't you know--I am not in the habit of being scared
when in the execution of my duty, and escape from those Turkish ruffians
was distinctly a duty. I was referring to the manner in which I was
plucked from the terrace of that minaret and whisked upward. 'Pon my
word, my scalp feels sore after such an experience. Forgive me if I say
it, but wonderful though that experience was, it was also terrifying."

It well might be, and indeed Dick and those fine tars, Hawkins and
Hurst, and the others had felt the same sort of terror. For think of the
nerve-racking journey which the Colonel had taken. Alec's frantic
waving, and Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw's equally mad behaviour had heralded
the advent of Joe Gresson's marvellous airship. As that forlorn little
party stood upon the gallery of the minaret attached to that great
mosque in Adrianople, with those fanatical Turks howling within but a
few feet of them, and kept at bay merely by the thickness of a door, a
huge, transparent shape had dropped towards them. At one moment, when
Alec first sighted it, it presented but a speck in the sky. And then it
had positively fallen towards the minaret till one could see the figures
on her main gallery. Instantly that familiar lift had swung downward,
turning and twisting giddily upon its single strand of steel wire, till
the dangling platform was actually resting on the gallery which
supported Dick and his friends.

"All aboard!" that worthy called out cheerfully.

"First lift the Commander in. Now, Colonel."

"Get on that frail craft! Be whisked aloft!"

Who can wonder if the gallant Colonel did demur for the moment? For a
fresh breeze caught that thin steel rope and swayed it from side to
side, causing it to drag and pluck at the platform.

"After you. Now, I'm ready."

It was characteristic of the Colonel that he hesitated no longer. But
still one cannot blame him if he clutched one of the four steel ropes
which ran from the corners of this flimsy, transparent platform to the
ring above, to which the single cable was attached, and clenched his
teeth tightly. Indeed, we will think none the worse of this gallant man
for the fact that he actually blanched as the lift started upward, Dick
having spoken into the telephone. As for that incorrigible young fellow,
he was now not entirely a novice in matters appertaining to the airship,
and, satisfied of the security of the strange lift upon which he stood,
he leaned over the edge as the motor above whisked them upward and waved
his cap at the Turks from whom they had so fortunately escaped. Indeed,
hardly had the lift started upward when the door at the top of that
long, curling stairway was broken open, and a crew of furious ruffians
launched themselves on to the gallery.

"_Au revoir!_" called Dick. "Sorry not to be able to stop to entertain
you. Call on us aloft; do, there's good fellows!"

A bullet whizzing past his head put a summary end to his taunts, while
the buzzing motor whisked the rescued party out of sight of the maddened
and astounded Turks within a minute. And here they were on board, safe
and secure.

"And as hungry as hunters," cried Alec.

At that very moment a gong sounded, while Sergeant Evans put in an
appearance.

"Luncheon ready, gentlemen," he said with the utmost suavity, as if
there had been no such thing as an exciting rescue, and as if he had had
nothing else to think about. "Commander Jackson's compliments, and he
feels wonderfully better."

"Then we will go to the saloon," said Andrew. "Joe seems as clever with
a patient as with airships. Come, Colonel, we can leave the Commander to
my nephew while we eat. Welcome aboard the airship!"

"And now tell us how it happened that you turned up at such a fortunate
and exciting moment," asked the Major, when lunch was finished and the
friends were seated smoking about the table. "Remember, you were to
return during the night. Adrianople is hardly a safe place for an
airship at this moment. Think of the result of a shell bursting close to
this vessel."

"Precisely! Think also of the members of our party stranded in the
city," smiled Andrew. "Joe and I discussed the matter."

"And decided that we would risk everything," said that latter. "After
all, it gave one the opportunity of conducting a valuable test. This
ship is supposed to be transparent."

"Extraordinary!" declared the Colonel. "Why, 'pon my word! but really,
one can see right through her. There's a man patrolling the deck high
overhead, a sailor by the look of him. Surely he's yards above
us--almost, it seems, suspended on air. And yet one sees that there are
beams and girders all about us. You mean to tell me, sir," and he
addressed his question to Joe in particular, "you mean to say that those
girders are of solid, strong material, and enclose a space filled with
hydrogen? In fact, a space which supports this huge vessel?"

"Yes and no. For the most part, certainly yes," declared the young
inventor, blushing with pride. "But the gas happens to be merely coal
gas. You see, I chose it with an object. On a long trip such as this,
that is to say a voyage which is to circle the globe, one must expect to
lose gas from the compartments which go to fill the bulk of this huge
vessel. In the case of Zeppelins and allied vessels the loss is
appreciable. Here, thanks to celludine, which happens not to be porous,
the loss is, in fact, negligible. Still, accident may give rise to
leakage. It may become necessary to refill the whole vessel."

"Then you descend?" asked the Colonel, obviously interested in this
explanation.

"We should already have been forced to descend," Joe corrected him.

"Precisely; and call at some gasworks?" the Colonel interjected.

"No; we carry a gas producer. We have coal in abundance; the rest is
easy."

It might or might not be. To the Colonel it was wonderful; in fact, so
interesting that, what with the excellent meal of which he had partaken
and this discussion, he quite forgot that experience when being swung
upward to safety. Indeed, he must needs go off at once with Joe on a
tour of investigation, while Andrew chatted with the Major.

"And so you determined to risk it," said the latter.

"Certainly! You couldn't expect us to leave the greater part of our
number in the heart of that city!"

Andrew sauntered across to one of the wide-open windows of the saloon
and pointed downward. Yes, there was Adrianople, a mere blotch beneath
them, its outline dim and blurred, its streets and houses merged into
one another; its trenches, its forts, its struggling defenders utterly
obliterated. A black line, with dark clumps here and there, showed
merely the presence of the attackers, while tiny and ridiculously dim
points of fire betrayed the guns which even then were speaking.

"Listen! Yes," reflected Andrew, "we heard the guns from a distance,
and, risking all, made our way back towards the city. And there we lay,
almost at this elevation, while the sun slowly rose and flooded the
place. Then we gradually dropped nearer and nearer to the houses."

"And no one saw you?" asked the Major.

"None, I believe. All were too engaged with the fighting. It was Alec, I
suppose, who first caught sight of us, and Hawkins who saw his signal.
After that, you know what happened. And now, Major, what becomes of
'Charlie'? You have been lucky enough to discover him, and one presumes
that he has come aboard with his secret. Bear in mind that I hold this
vessel at your disposal. If necessary we will return to England. Or we
can set the Colonel down wherever he may think most convenient. But if
time is of importance, and his destination is England, then I suggest
that we make use of the aeroplane which we carry. Come and inspect it."

They tossed their cigar stumps out of the window, took one more look
downward at the forlorn city, and then ascended to the wide deck carried
on the top of the airship. Overhead, as they trudged along it, fluttered
the long aerials suspended to the thin masts erected for wireless
telegraphic purposes, while far down below, almost in the centre of the
main gangway, a man could be seen bending over transmitter and receiver.

"You see, we are well equipped," said Andrew. "Of course, if it so
happened that the Colonel could send his information by wireless, then
it would be a great pleasure to have him with us. In any case, let us
inspect Joe's aeroplane. Here it is; now, take close stock of it."

That was a privilege which Dick also enjoyed, for his inspection so soon
after his first arrival on board had been hurried. Now he approached the
machine in question burning with curiosity. For Dick was one of the
adventurous fellows who are so frequently to be found in the two
services.

"Flying or submarine work's in my line," he had told his fellow middies.
"But flying in particular."

And here was something upon which, for all he knew, he might learn his
first lessons. In the sunk hangar located on the wide upper deck of the
airship lay a machine which might well have attracted the attention of
some of our expert flyers. For Joe Gresson was no ordinary inventor. As
we have endeavoured to convey to the reader, the silent Joe was indeed a
genius, a young man thoroughly well trained in the principles of
engineering, and gifted with a brain of unusual capacity. Hence his
great airship. Hence also this adjunct to it. Dick and his friends
looked upon a machine differing only in form and size and engine from
those common at the moment. The principle was precisely the same, and
yet the perfection of engineering and design incorporated in the machine
in question made of it an article of astonishing efficiency.

"Same as many others at first sight, but different," observed the Major,
while Dick had his head thrust almost into the very heart of the
machinery. "Why, there's the Colonel. Well, Steven, what do you think of
the vessel which brought us out to Adrianople just in time to snatch you
from that extremely uncomfortable city?"

There was a glow on the bronzed, if somewhat pinched, face of the one
addressed; for, as we have said, Colonel Steven was an enthusiast where
modern advancement was in question, while the science and art of the
flyer was as attractive to him as to any.

"Think, my dear Major!" he observed. "What can one think? One is
absolutely and positively astounded. I can now scarcely believe that I
am really on the top of an enormous airship, bigger even than a
Zeppelin, and suspended some hundreds of feet in the air."

"Pardon--thousands, Colonel," said Joe's quiet voice. "Here is the exact
reading--ten thousand two hundred and eighty-five feet." He stepped
across to one of the posts that supported the rail running round the
deck and consulted an instrument affixed to it.

"Ten thousand feet! But----" gasped the Colonel, "you'll explode."

"Bust, in other words," Dick whispered to Alec. "Call a spade a spade,
my boy. That's the worst of getting senior in any service, for you have
to choose and pick your words, which is a bit of a nuisance. 'Bust' here
is the correct and proper description."

"A Zeppelin would," added the Colonel, failing to hear Dick's grinning
aside.

"Pardon once more: a Zeppelin would be incapable of ascending much above
six thousand feet. At least, that is their record so far, and it is for
that reason that, though a menace to all nations who have none,
supposing Germany were to declare war, and such nations were within the
six hundred miles radius, the Zeppelin is still not entirely mistress of
the air. There is always the speedy, powerful aeroplane, capable with
ease of ascending infinitely higher, far out of range of her deck guns,
for Zeppelins carry weapons above just as you see here, and from that
point dropping bombs upon her."

"Ugh! Disagreeable sort of game that," laughed the Major, shrugging his
shoulders and staring upward. "Nasty thing to receive a bomb when slung
even six thousand feet in the air. You'd come an awful crasher."

"As to exploding," continued Joe serenely, "of course one no longer
experiences at these high altitudes the normal fourteen pounds per
square inch one is accustomed to on terra firma. The atmosphere is
rarer, it weighs considerably less, and exerts decidedly less pressure.
Hence, as you rightly assume, the envelope of a Zeppelin tends to tear.
But, my dear sir, permit me to hand you a sample of sheet celludine.
See, it is transparent, flexible, and extremely light. Please tear it,
using as much force as you wish, and thereby prove that it is neither
tough nor unstretchable."

The inventor held out a single sheet of his wonderful yet simple
material, while Dick craned his neck forward to get a closer view. As
for Alec and Andrew, they were already versed in the characteristics of
the stuff, but none the less interested. At once the Major complied with
Joe's wishes.

"Light, transparent, flexible," he said. "Yes, admitted. You agree,
Colonel. Now tough and non-extensible; that is, won't stretch."

"Like rubber," interjected Dick.

"Quite so. Hang on--no, you're too light yet. Who ever heard of a
midshipman having weight? The Colonel will suit my purpose. Now, Steven,
pull with all your might."

As was only to be expected the experiment proved the value of celludine
conclusively.

"I've been through the same sort of game," laughed Andrew. "I've tugged
and pulled and stamped on the stuff till I was hot. Then, gentlemen, I
put my money into this ship. I had had a practical demonstration."

"But we were talking of exploding," said Joe. "Of course, each one of
the gas compartments has a safety valve, so that if at any time the
pressure from without should lessen to a dangerous degree, then the
valves open and gas escapes. But you were looking at the aeroplane. I
propose to make use of it presently; for our friend, the French airman
whom Dick was sent to rescue, is now recovered and wishes to be landed."

A close inspection of the heavier-than-air machine designed by Joe
Gresson proved of absorbing interest, for here again celludine entered
into the greater part of its construction. Possessed of two planes,
these were supported by girders passing to right and left, and braced
together in a manner which made them peculiarly rigid, while the lower
and upper planes were supported on the girders holding those positions
respectively, some three feet only separating them. Immediately beneath,
forming, in fact, the foundation for the girders, was a long,
boat-shaped body, with sharpened prow, no visible keel, and a flat
bottom tapering from stem to stern. The latter extended a considerable
distance, and supported at its end two small elevating planes and a big
vertical rudder. Finally, two struts on either side had spring wheels
attached to them, while the steel stampings, to which they were bolted
themselves, had a form of spring attachment which one could realize
would provide against severe shocks when landing.

"Then she can come down on water or on land?" asked the Colonel,
adjusting an eyeglass which he had just produced. "Most interesting. And
how, pray, does she return to her parent ship, this gigantic air
vessel?"

"How? By merely circling above and dropping on this deck. I will show
you," said Joe, his face flushed with pride. "But first allow me to
describe the method by which the pilot controls the machine, and how
lateral and fore-and-aft stability are assured. See, there are the same
movements as on other machines for controlling height, for turning, or
'banking', to use the technical expression. One merely sits in the cab
placed towards the stem of the boat body where the levers are located.
Come, Colonel, and you too, Major, and Dick. Try a spin. I can assure
you that there is no risk in the matter."

"But--but set off when ten thousand feet from the land, when one can
distinguish no single object," cried the former, aghast at such a
suggestion. "Yes, I'll come," he said a moment later, deliberately
screwing his monocle a little tighter into position and looking at the
inventor. "You tell me there is no great risk, and hearing that, I
accept the invitation. After all, you must not blame me if I show some
little trepidation. My dear sir, I am not a bird, and this is the first
occasion on which I have ever ascended from native earth."

As for the Major, he too nodded his willingness, though he also felt not
a little trepidation. As for Dick, one may say that the happy-go-lucky
fellow hardly ever counted risks, such is the record of midshipmen. But
even so, a glance through the transparent material beneath him towards
the brown blur far, far below caused him an undoubted tremor. But he had
grit. He had proved it, and now leaped into the boat without further
hesitation. The Colonel and his brother officer were already there,
while Joe stepped in behind them.

"Take your seats, gentlemen," he said, with a smile which went far to
reassure them. "Now, we are ready, save for the fact that our engine is
not yet running, while the doors of this sunken hangar are not open. But
I pull this cord hanging overhead. See! An electric motor raises the
whole shed and opens it. Then we press this little pedal--more
electricity, my friends--a six-volt battery feeds a small motor aboard
here and turns the engine round. Now air is forced through my paraffin
carburettor and the vapour resulting is fed to that gasometer in the
bows of the boat. Yes, it's a gasometer, just as you see on land, though
much smaller. Thence the gas passes to the engine, where it receives
more air and--ah! she's off. Listen to her humming, and for one moment
notice the position of the engine. It is centrally placed, immediately
beneath the planes, and is suspended from a single point. Thus it is
free to swing both backward and forward and from side to side. There
lies the secret of automatic stability. Say we are coasting along and a
gust cants us to the right. The heavy engine still keeps in the same
vertical position, while this whole machine turns as it were on that
single point. You can readily follow that certain levers attached to
engine and machine will be altered in position, and as a direct result
the wing tips are warped in a prearranged manner, the back planes rotate
upward or downward, or the rudder itself is operated. That is for
coasting, for use when on a long, straight flight, when one wishes to
take note of one's surroundings, to eat, or even to sleep."

"Sleep!" gasped the Major.

"Why not?" came Joe's cool answer.

"But up in the air, thousands of feet up!"

"As well there as within a hundred feet. The action I have been
describing is automatic. There is no question of human error in its
behaviour. So long as the planes have room for manoeuvring, and the
engine does not stop, there is no need to interfere in the slightest.
Set your course, lock your tiller, and go to sleep. But you shall see;
for the moment I will trust to my own skill in manoeuvring. In fact,
by pulling this small lever I secure the engine. In effect it is now
suspended not only from a single point, but fixed rigidly to the
framework of the whole machine. Then if I wish to bank, no automatic
action can disturb my calculations. We are ready, I think. Look!
flexible tubes above the engine carry the water from the force pumps to
the motors on the hubs of the two propellers. There you see precisely
the same hydraulic system of conveying power as is used elsewhere in
this airship. No need, therefore, to have a dozen men holding the
machine down, for the propellers are motionless, the bypass being full
open. But I close it now--watch them twirl. I shut it almost
completely----"

"Hi! Hold on!" shouted Dick at that instant, while the Colonel gripped
the sides of the cab and actually dropped his monocle.

"We're off!" bellowed the Major, jamming his hat down on his head and
clenching his teeth tightly.

"Away she goes!" called Joe, his face set, his eyes glued on the deck
before him.

Those two propellers hissed and roared as they rotated, the biplane
resting so tranquilly a moment earlier beneath the transparent roof of
her shed leaped into the open, her wheels already engaged with the rails
placed there to guide them. In a moment or two she was speeding along
them at forty miles an hour, so fast, indeed, that Dick could feel her
lifting already. He sat down hard, bit his lip, and tried to look as if
the trip before him was of little moment. But the gallant Dick's heart
was fluttering in the most uncomfortable manner. Indeed, we must report
the fact that Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw was almost reduced to the condition
of abject funk. For the machine lifted of a sudden. The deck of the
airship, that deck which only a few hours before had seemed to the
midshipman so insecure, so frail, so wanting in stability, and now--so
curious is the change of opinion brought by altered circumstances--which
offered such a firm standing, that deck flashed from beneath the
biplane. One second there was the familiar, transparent mass of the
airship beneath them; the next they were perhaps a hundred feet from
her, out in the open, suspended on thin air, supported by the atmosphere
upon a machine which relied on no gas to sustain it, but merely upon the
upward push of the ether into which she had rushed. No wonder that the
usually dashing Dick clutched firmly to the side of the cab and uttered
a breathless "Jingo!"




CHAPTER XII

Carl Aboard the Biplane


There is a very old and no doubt true saying that everything comes to
those who wait, and Mr. Carl Reitberg may be said to have been one of
these fortunate individuals. For all that he desired seemed to be about
to be consummated.

"At last! A brilliant inspiration, really," he was telling himself
almost at the identical moment when Joe Gresson set out from the great
airship with the Major, the Colonel, and Dick, and swooped into space
upon his wonderful biplane. "A really brilliant inspiration. Here have I
been thinking and bothering and cudgelling my brains for a means
to--to--er--well, to put a stop to what might well be an astounding
triumph for that Andrew Provost and his conceited nephew, when a sudden
thought strikes me, all difficulties are cleared away, and the future
becomes rosy."

The stout, roundabout figure of this little man who spoke English with
an accent, who loved the freedom, the customs, and the institutions of
Great Britain, and who had waxed rich and prosperous because of the
protection and many opportunities which the country or her possessions
had given him, rolled round in the deep armchair in which he was seated,
while his hand groped for a cut-glass tumbler standing on an adjacent
table. The deep-set, cunning eyes saw none of the surrounding
magnificence which the walls of his smoking-room displayed; for Mr. Carl
Reitberg was deeply immersed, lost in thought, carried away by the
brilliance of his inspiration.

"Yes," he reflected again, "a brilliant inspiration. Here was I in
London--or rather, to put it correctly, here am I in London--hearing on
every side tales of the airship, of her strength, of her swiftness, of
her original design, capacity, and extraordinary power; and yet there is
no way of moving, no means of arresting the world tour of the air
vessel, no method of--er--er causing an unfortunate accident Then, when
all seems to have gone badly for me, when, owing to my own stupid
impulse, my desire to be applauded as a sportsman, the bank holds one
hundred thousand pounds which I have deposited, without power of
withdrawal, against the day when the ship returns, then, I say,
difficulties suddenly fly. It is strange how a man's brain at last hits
upon a solution."

In his delight he had begun to speak aloud, addressing his words to the
four walls of the room, to the costly pictures attached to them, to the
velvet curtains, the cigar cabinets, the table loaded with bric-à-brac,
and to curios and valuables in general. In any case he had not included
the only other occupant of the room, had never once turned his eyes in
his direction, had seemed to have forgotten him utterly. But the man
there, lounging placidly in a deep and luxurious armchair, smiling
sardonically, and nursing a damaged arm which he wore in a sling, was
listening intently. Once he scowled and growled something beneath his
breath. And now that Carl Reitberg seemed to have finished he stole a
look at him, and leaned over and coolly helped himself to a cigar which,
by the breadth of the gilded band about it, might have cost a small
fortune.

"A brilliant inspiration, eh?" he asked languidly, settling himself back
in his chair when he had set his cigar going. "What?"

The words brought his host back to Mother Earth with a start. To speak
the truth there was no love lost between Carl Reitberg and Adolf
Fruhmann, for that rascal was the other inmate of this room. The pompous
little owner of this magnificent establishment would have ignored his
one-time accomplice had he not need of him. Now he put up with his
presence as best he could. Not that Adolf Fruhmann was of much value at
the moment; for an accident in the streets had left him with a broken
arm, much to Carl's annoyance.

"That's what I was telling you," he answered savagely. "Here are you
fool enough to get an arm broken, thereby rendering yourself helpless
when it was a matter of arrangement between us that you were to act----"

"One moment; not so fast," came from the other. "You speak as if I'd
asked that taxi driver to run me down, as if I enjoyed the suffering
that's followed. Besides, if I'm helpless for the moment, and you've
been fool enough to plant a hundred thousand pounds into a bank in such
a way that you can't finger it till this challenge is settled, why, it's
for you to move, you to risk your own skin, I'm thinking."

Certainly there was no love lost between them, and if Carl imagined that
Adolf would cringe and whine when in his presence, the events of the
past few days had entirely undeceived him. For Adolf had become a leech,
a detestable fellow who clung to the man who desired to employ him. From
that squalid tenement dwelling down by Whitechapel, he had removed
himself to Carl Reitberg's luxurious mansion, and protest on that
indignant gentleman's part had no effect.

"We've just got to sink or swim together," observed Adolf, with a
scornful smile when his would-be benefactor flared out at him and bade
him depart. "We're old chums, don't forget that, old partners, and--and
there's a few who would like very much--very much indeed--to meet us."

It was a significant statement, and Adolf took no trouble to rob his
words of the sinister threat which underlay them. From the meek,
half-starved, down-at-heels ruffian, he had of a sudden, once he had
been discovered by Carl, become a sleek, sardonic individual, sleeker
perhaps for the fact that the best of London tailoring had turned him
out in the latest of fashions. Indeed, in the well-dressed, or rather,
somewhat over-dressed individual lolling in the deep armchair in Carl's
room, it was hard to recognize the unkempt, unwashed rascal of but a few
days earlier.

And his benefactor was helpless. As Carl lay back watching his
accomplice through half-closed lids, he was bound to admit that here was
one item in which his scheme of attacking Andrew Provost had miscarried.
Adolf Fruhmann had got disgracefully out of hand, and was almost
unmanageable. He had picked him out of the gutter merely for a purpose,
and knowing that for gold this rascal would do almost anything. And now
he was actually afraid of the man, dared not order him away, was fearful
that a word from him might jeopardize his, Carl Reitberg's own position.

"Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with the nuisance," he
reflected, as he scowled at his companion. "After all, it will not be
for long, and later, when I have made use of him, why there are ways of
ridding oneself of a nuisance. Now," he said aloud, "you were asking
about this brilliant inspiration."

"I am incredulous. Carl Reitberg with an inspiration worth hearing of!"

The man was positively offensive, and caused the fat and pompous Carl to
squirm, while the ferrety little eyes, sunk behind their lashes,
positively glared at the rascal who had spoken.

"Well, let us hear it," said Adolf flippantly, flicking his cigar ash
with one finger, and inspecting the glowing end with every sign of
approval. "Carl Reitberg has an inspiration; his friends long to hear
all about it."

"It is about the airship," began Carl, ignoring the man's words, though
his cheeks were purple.

"It always is," came the retort. "You dream of the thing; you think of
it by day and night. That hundred thousand pounds weighs as heavily as a
ton of lead."

"And rightly so," Carl answered sharply. "I was deluded, I say. I had no
idea that this Joe Gresson could succeed in his undertaking, I----"

"Exactly," came the dry answer. "If you had been fully awake you'd never
have issued that challenge. You were too cocksure, Carl. You put down
that money feeling that it was safe. Now you're doubtful. So am I.
You'll lose it if all that the papers report is correct. Just fancy! the
ship sails across to Adrianople quicker than an aeroplane could take
you. She hovers over the city. She rises and falls and disappears at
will. Then she heads back for England, while her wireless tells _The
Daily Flier_ all the news. If that hundred thousand pounds were
mine--and some of it will be according to our agreement--why, I'd begin
to get fidgety. I'd begin to dream and seek for inspirations. Well,
what's yours?"

"I use the wireless also. I call up the ship. I follow the idea of
behaving as a sportsman."

"Ah!" Adolf smiled satirically. "That cost a heap!" he said. "Well?"

"I ask to be taken aboard for this world trip. Can they refuse me?"

It was his companion's turn to show some irritation. If Carl Reitberg
had the intention of accompanying the great airship on her voyage, then
it could be with one object, for there were no secrets between these two
rascals. He desired to gain access to the ship with the sole idea of
wrecking or damaging it. Very good, that! Crafty! Quite commendable.

"But there's myself to be considered. If he succeeds, what do I get?
Where is the reward promised?"

The ruffian eyed Carl with undisguised contempt, and yet half fearfully.

"Clever idea, very," he said aloud. "You go aboard for the trip. There
is, perhaps, an accident. Unfortunate, of course, but--er--necessary.
You are as sorry as the others. You express a thousand regrets--but all
the while you are laughing in your sleeve. You are really thinking of
something far harder to give than regrets; you are thinking of your one
hundred thousand pounds, eh, my friend? That is, I think, the beginning
and end of the inspiration."

It was so obvious that Adolf admired the craftiness of the scheme that
Carl almost forgave him. But the next few seconds undeceived him, and
reminded the magnate of the fact that he had others to consider.

"Of course," said Adolf slowly, "our bargain holds good. If--if there is
an unfortunate accident, and the voyage of the airship is arrested, you
return and pay me the sum promised."

"But----" cried Carl indignantly, his fat cheeks swelling.

"There are no buts in the matter. I am paid, or I blab. I have a long
memory, and there are other things I can mention. No, friend Carl, we
swim or sink together, as I have said. You leave England. Good! I look
after your house, your servants, and your interests during your absence.
Supposing you fail--supposing this--er--accident doesn't happen, then
you fall back on your dear friend. I seek for an inspiration. I attempt
another accident. In either case, if you are successful, or if the
honour falls to me, our bargain holds, I am paid what was promised."

It was a sordid business; but no doubt there are other rascals of the
same kidney haggling over even less unsavoury schemes in the great city
of London. But this was evident, Carl was in a corner, hoist as it were
by the very rascal he had hoped to use merely as a tool, and then to
throw away when no longer useful. It was a bitter blow, but to be
endured, and he must not allow it to prevent his following the line of
action he had suddenly decided on. He gulped down the contents of his
tumbler, scowled at his companion, and then stretched out for the
telephone receiver. A moment later he was dictating a telegram to be
dispatched by wireless to the great airship.

"Mr. Carl Reitberg presents his warmest congratulations to Mr. Andrew
Provost and his clever nephew, and asks to be allowed to accompany the
party aboard the airship during some part of their world trip. Wire
place at which ship could call."

Down in the depths of the airship, in the Marconi operator's cabin, the
operator was busily employed some few minutes later, while the aerials
above flashed in the sun and clicked in their own extraordinary fashion.
Then a paper was thrust into Andrew's hand as he paced the deck arm in
arm with the Commander.

"Umph!" he said, handing it to the naval officer. "Rather spoil the fun
of the party. I ain't too fond of Mr. Carl Reitberg."

"But it's sporting of him, eh?" reflected the officer, now rapidly
recovering.

"Sporting? Er--yes--that's what he aims at particularly. Sad if he were
to spoil also the ship's chances."

"But surely that's impossible--one man spoil the chances of the ship's
success!"

"Well, perhaps I'm unduly suspicious. Carton, wire back that we shall be
pleased to receive him, and that Joe Gresson will call for him in
London. Then call up Joe. He's well within range of the ship's wireless,
and repeat the message."

And thus it followed that while Joe, with the Major and Colonel and the
derelict Frenchman on board, were coasting towards England, having once
demonstrated to our friends the security of the biplane, the aerials
aboard that wonderful machine clicked, while the receiver told out its
message. An hour later, perhaps, while Carl Reitberg was snoring in his
luxurious chair, the telephone summoned him from slumber.

"Be ready to start to-morrow morning early. Joe Gresson will call for
you. Warm welcome awaits you aboard the great airship."

Carl simpered. His pig-like eyes lit up wonderfully, and for one brief
moment he wore the appearance he had borne when Joe first met him aboard
the Hamburg-Amerika liner. He was positively genial, and any old lady of
a credulous disposition happening to observe him at that moment would
have set him down definitely as a most engaging, kind-hearted, and
simple gentleman. And so he could have been, had he not at heart been a
scheming rascal. For Carl Reitberg was that. If he had been a patriot,
if he had belonged to some other country than England, and for her sake
had decided to destroy the airship with her crew, we would have recorded
the fact plainly. But Carl had no country, not even that of England,
which had fostered him, protected him, even innocently aided him in some
of his rascally schemes. His scheme was merely for personal objects, to
save his pocket, to win a challenge, to defeat Andrew Provost and Joe
Gresson, and all the while appear in the public eye as a sportsman,
something understood by the people and sure to make him wonderfully
popular.

The hours that followed were busy ones indeed for Carl, and Adolf
Fruhmann aided him wonderfully in spite of a damaged arm. They retreated
to a garret in a street off Soho, where they remained till day was
almost dawning. Nor did they present themselves at the place as Carl
Reitberg and Adolf Fruhmann respectively. No; they went disguised, using
false names also. What passed in that garret we need not enquire into;
but this is certain: when the two rogues finally left and drove away in
a taxi, there was a suspicious square box beside them.

"Gently, gently! You carry it," suggested Carl, as they stepped out of
the cab and walked away.

"Very well; I'm not afraid if you are. The things are safe till you
begin to tamper with them. Then----"

Adolf raised his eyes expressively and sniggered. "Then there's an end
to you and--and the airship," he giggled.

"H-hush, man! Are you a fool? Here! Step into this cab. We can drive
straight home now, I think."

They had dived into a side street for a moment, where they had rapidly
removed the beards which had disguised them. Now they hailed a taxi,
entered, and boldly told the man to drive to Carl's address. The
following morning found the chief of these two rascals dressed for an
outing. An immaculate knickerbocker suit clad his rotund proportions,
while the monocle he--like the gallant Colonel--affected transformed him
into an object such as one sees at St. Moritz, one of the band of heroes
who go to look on at somewhat hazardous winter sports and continue
always to look on only.

Buzz! The telephone called him. They were speaking from his office in
the city, to which all telegrams were sent. "What's that?" demanded Carl
incredulously, when he had listened to the message. "Eh! I am to drive
out to Hendon, where Mr. Gresson will pick me up? Where's the airship?"

"Somewhere above Italy," came the answer. "Mr. Gresson arrived yesterday
evening in an aeroplane."

"An aeroplane! But--but--surely he doesn't expect me to--to travel in
such a thing with him!" cried Carl tremulously, much to Adolfs amusement
and ill-concealed contempt.

"Why not?" he asked. "You've asked to go on a flying trip. Where's the
difference between a ship and plane? Pooh! You're a sportsman, aren't
you? Then you've got to show spirit."

But that was just precisely the virtue of which Carl was most deficient.
He could ape the sportsman, providing no physical display of courage
were wanted. He could even venture a trip in the airship, knowing now
from excited reports from all quarters that she was the last word in
such matters; and when the time came, and the moment were opportune, he
told himself he had the nerve to place that curious box he had just
procured in the most advantageous position, set its contents going, and
then decamp. Oh, yes, he would decamp, quickly too, to be sure! Why not?
That would merely be discretion.

"Supposing there was an accident?" he suddenly blurted out, his face
fallen, his features as long as a fiddle. "Supposing the box were
overturned! Besides, I've never been in an aeroplane. Hundreds of men
have lost their lives when flying."

"A noble end for a sportsman, truly," grinned Adolf. "Let me go, then? A
broken arm will not prevent my acting."

"No; I'll take train to Turin. I could be there as soon as this
aeroplane," he said, almost tearfully. "Are you there? Why don't you
stay at the telephone? Is Mr. Joe Gresson at the office?"

It was that young inventor himself who answered.

"Good morning!" he said curtly enough. "Glad you are coming. We leave in
two hours' time."

"But--but I am detained," cried Carl desperately. "I cannot leave then.
I will catch the midday continental express and go to Turin. I shall be
there to-morrow evening."

"While we shall be beyond that city this afternoon," came the curt
answer. "We must not delay longer, for though I calculate that the
airship could circle the twenty-five thousand and odd miles which a trip
round the world comprises in some seventeen to twenty days, yet there
may be breakdowns----"

"Ah, yes, certainly! I hope not," said Carl swiftly.

"That's nice of you. But there may be, while we may desire to deviate a
little. Indeed our trip will not take us along a straight line. We
propose to take an oblique course, and therefore must make the most of
every day that remains to us. Therefore we leave Hendon almost
immediately."

"And pass Turin before the evening!" cried Carl aghast. Such rapid
travel spelled catastrophy to him. "I--I--do you expect an accident?"

"An accident?"

"Yes; to your machine. Aeroplanes are notoriously dangerous.
I--I--really think that I'll not----"

"Sorry, Mr. Reitberg," came Joe's curt answer. "But we must push ahead.
If you wish to join us at all you must come now, and on the biplane."

The pompous city magnate put the telephone down with something
approaching a groan. Indeed, his features were positively haggard, his
fat cheeks hung flaccid, his mouth drooped, his eyes were bloodshot. He
might, indeed, have been a condemned criminal. And then Adolf's sneering
laughter stung him to some show of courage, or perhaps it was
desperation.

"It is the only, the last chance," he said. "I'll go. I'll risk travel
in this abominable machine. Herman!"

He tugged at the bell and shouted for his butler.

"Call the car round," he ordered magnificently. "Put my baggage on
board, and--er--please be careful of this box. It's very valuable."

"In fact, there is glass inside, old curios," added Adolf, guffawing as
the man shut the door behind him. "Curios for dear Andrew Provost. A
present from London city to the great airship! A token of love and
esteem from Carl Reitberg."

The ruffian was a humorous fellow at times, and his cynical mind often
perceived a vein of fun where others saw nothing. His confederate's
nervousness, the dilemma into which he had managed to introduce himself
in his efforts to get aboard the airship provided Adolf with a vast
amount of amusement, and he was sniggering still when his friend marched
ponderously out of the establishment.

"_Bon voyage!_" called Adolf after him, as he stood on the steps of the
gorgeous mansion, his undamaged arm tucked beneath his coat tails, a
cigar of Carl's most expensive brand between his teeth, and a smile
wrinkling his somewhat sardonic features. "_Bon voyage!_ Have no fears.
I'll look after things in your absence."

But oh that voyage! Oh the terror before starting! Carl Reitberg,
sportsman, cut but a sorry figure as he shook Joe's honest hand and
clambered into the cab of the biplane.

"But--but you'll never venture to rise above the ground in this?" he
cried aghast. "It's not even made of steel or wood. It's transparent
stuff, and looks frightfully fragile."

"Try it," grinned Dick, who was one of the party. "Ask Alec to jump on
the wings, or--oh, I know, Mr. Reitberg, try a ride on one yourself!
It'd be a ripping sensation to lie out there on one of the planes while
she was soaring."

"Brat! Conceited young midshipman! Wants kicking!" Carl thought angrily.
"But if they've come all the way from the neighbourhood of Adrianople,
why, I suppose the machine is strong enough. Horrible it seems to me!
But I must screw up my courage. Ah! He's started his engine. Why
couldn't he wait a little longer till I'd settled down. Stay still
there, young man. We're moving, and if you get too much to one side the
thing will capsize once we're off the ground."

Alec regarded the trembling magnate with a pitying smile, though quite
politely. "Oh, that's with ordinary aeroplanes, sir," he said loftily.
"You can't upset this. You ask Joe. We'll try, just to impress you."

"Try to upset the machine when in the air! Madness!" Carl positively
scowled at Alec, and then at Dick, catching him grinning. Then his
attention was called elsewhere. Joe shut down his bypass valve abruptly.
The propellers roared. The biplane shot forward and mounted into the air
as if eager for a struggle. They were up a hundred yards before their
passenger had had time to fasten his grip quite to his own liking on the
edge of the cab. Then Joe banked her.

"Put me down!" roared Carl, scared out of his senses, for the machine
had tilted, and from his own position he could look direct to the ground
beneath. He felt the machine slipping bodily sideways.

"Got in an air hole," observed Joe calmly. "Skidding a trifle. But she
can't go far. The cross sections between the planes hold her up nicely.
Up we go again, turning all the time. Hold on for a moment."

It was truly a terrifying experience for Carl, and he never quite became
accustomed to this new form of locomotion. Even when Joe, having
elevated the machine to the height of ten thousand feet, set the
automatic gear in motion, and, lighting a cigarette in the shelter of
the cab, went to chat with the Major, the magnate felt far from happy.

"But--but," he quavered, "leave the steering gear! Who, then, controls
this machine? What is to prevent us being dashed to pieces?"

"Atoms, rather," suggested Dick, always ready with something likely to
improve the occasion.

"Eh?" asked Carl.

"You said pieces," grinned the midshipman. "We're ten thousand feet up.
We wouldn't make jelly even if we fell. We'd be smashed to atoms."

"Horrible! Loathsome young fool!" thought Carl, groaning at the mere
mention of such an ending. "Anything will be more pleasant than this.
When will this awful trip be over?"

Flying steadily at over one hundred miles an hour it can be reckoned
that the biplane soon swallowed up distance. In fact, late that
afternoon she was over Italy, while an hour afterwards she swooped out
over the Adriatic Sea, where she sighted the airship. Not that the
latter was easily visible. But a practised eye could make her out.

"See--the airship," said the Major, pointing towards her for Carl's
benefit.

"Ah! Yes. Then we sink to the water?"

"No--we swoop towards her and land on her deck."

"In midair! Is it--is it really safe?" asked this nervous passenger.

"As houses," interjected Dick. "Hold on, sir! Don't speak to Joe, or he
might make an error and drop us over the edge."

It was a huge, if unkind, joke to watch the twitching face of the
magnate, and, as is often enough the way of youth, Dick and Alec enjoyed
Carl's discomfiture immensely. But they were near the ship now. Joe sent
his biplane higher, till she was two thousand feet above the air vessel.
Then he banked, banked till the machine looked as if she would turn
turtle. But there was a master man at the controls, and at once the
biplane dived downward, curling spirally, with her engine stopped, till
she looked as if she would drop through the heart of the ship below her.
Then the engine hummed, the propellers revolved, the biplane righted,
dived swiftly, rose a yard or two, and then dropped without a quiver on
the broad back waiting to receive her.

"Welcome!" said Mr. Andrew Provost, accosting the party, and helping
Carl Reitberg to alight. "Welcome to the ship which by your own
challenge you yourself helped to erect."

He led him to the lift, escorted him down to the gallery below, and
showed him his cabin. In fact, Andrew did all that a host who is a
gentleman could do for a guest. He didn't like Mr. Reitberg; he made no
pretence of doing so. He was polite as a matter of course, and because
it was good manners. But whatever he thought of this stout little
magnate, indeed, whether he suspected the true depths of his sporting
instincts, Andrew never imagined that he had just welcomed a crafty
ruffian, a schemer, a mean-hearted man who, now that he was safely
aboard, would leave no stone unturned till he had wrecked the vessel. As
for Carl, he sat himself down by that precious box of his and mopped his
forehead.

"I've put up with a heap," he said. "Now my time's coming."




CHAPTER XIII

To the North-west Frontier


It would be difficult to find anywhere an individual who settles down to
new surroundings, to luxury, or to privation so quickly, so easily, and
with so little discussion as does your British Tommy or Jack Tar. Given
a piece of good cake tobacco, a jack knife, and a pipe, he will, so long
as he has a few boon companions, soon have the air humming with his
yarns or his songs. In fact, both of these estimable beings are right
good fellows. Let us descend, therefore, to the men's quarters aboard
the great airship. Lined with sleeping bunks on either side, with huge
windows which made it possible to provide the best of ventilation,
furnished with electric radiators for use in cold latitudes, or when
flying at a great altitude, the part assigned to the men was a paradise
compared with the quarters they might have expected. And on the evening
after the return of Joe and his party with the stout and nervous
magnate, Hurst and Hawkins and their cronies were gathered together,
smoking like chimneys and chattering like a cageful of monkeys. As might
well be expected also, their superiors in the saloon came in for some
discussion.

"I was a talkin' of 'im," reiterated Hawkins, licking his lips, for he
had removed his pipe for that particular reason; "of Mr. Alec Jardine;
and I says as 'e's the boy fer a sailor. 'E's like Dicky, so 'e is, and
Dicky's the properest sailor as ever I set eyes on."

"To which I agrees," exclaimed Private Larkin, Jim Larkin as he was
known, no less a person than Major Harvey's soldier servant. "'E's a
sailor, 'e is. And p'raps 'ed make a soldier too, fer all I knows. But
this here Alec, why, he's got the cut of a soldier, 'e 'as. Don't you
deny it."

He was almost ferocious as he addressed himself to Hawkins, and we must
admit that one unaccustomed to those in the men's quarters might have
even been alarmed. For Private Larkin was not blessed with the most
attractive of countenances. To begin with, his head was remarkably big,
too big for his body, and most of the head seemed to be composed of a
pair of fat, bulging cheeks, above which were a couple of equally
bulging eyes which had a most disagreeable habit of fixing upon people,
staring them out of countenance, and then of squinting. They were at it
now. Hawkins blew fiercely into his pipe.

"Stow that 'ere squintin', shipmate," he growled. "A man ain't never
sure what you're lookin' at. Fust it's 'is face. Then it's 'is boots,
then it's--it's what not. Now, you nor I ain't likely to agree on that
'ere youngster. You says he'd make a soldier. I says as 'es fair cut out
fer a sailor. Let's leave it at that in case we gets to quarrelling.
Let's jaw about this here fat little feller, him as the papers called a
sportsman."

"Sportsman!" chimed in Hurst in his most scornful tones. "I like that.
Sportsmen don't funk when it's a question of flying."

"Then you ain't one," came Hawkins's laughing answer. "Nor you nor me
was so precious merry when we were hoisted aboard this here ship; and I
stakes my davy neither of us are so eager to go aboard that aeroplane.
It ain't every sportsman that has the nerve to fly, so jest you mark it.
And every sportsman ain't like this here Mr. Reitberg, him as has an
accent jammed up with his words every time he opens his mouth."

"But 'Sportsman''s what the papers called him," said Larkin, scenting
here another theme for fierce argument For this merry soldier loved to
bandy words, to discuss matters threadbare, while the very meeting with
a member of the allied service was sufficient to make him disputatious.
If Hawkins said that the visitor who had recently arrived on board was a
sportsman, Larkin declared with decision that he was no such thing. His
little red, pointed moustache seemed to erect itself towards his eyes,
while the latter turned upon Hawkins and Hurst in succession, and then
upon the other tars a stare which was positively threatening.
"Sportsman! Ho, yes! That's what they called 'im. And what does Sergeant
Evans say? What's 'e say, I ask?"

There was no response, for the simple reason that none knew. The worthy
Sergeant was, indeed, given to keeping his own counsels. None the less
Larkin professed to be aware of his opinions.

"Of course, none of you knows," he told them triumphantly. "You
wouldn't, for the Sergeant's always kind of suspicious of seafaring
folks. Not that I agrees with him there," he added, by way of apology,
while Hawkins and Hurst bridled and drew heavily on their pipes. "But
it's his way. He keeps quiet when the Navy's round about. Still I know,
and I'll tell you. 'E says 'watch 'im'. That's what Sergeant Evans
says."

"Ah! Watch 'im?" repeated Hurst thoughtfully. "And why?"

"'Cos 'e's a sportsman. 'Cos it's this here Mr. Reitberg that challenged
Mr. Provost to build the airship and sail her round the world;
and--what's a sight more than all--'cos he's been and gone and put one
hundred thousand pounds--one hundred thousand golden, shining
sovereigns--under lock and key, and given the key into someone else's
keeping against the day when the ship's cruised round the world and
safely returned to England. It was that that caused the papers to
describe this here Mr. Reitberg as a sportsman. And it's that very thing
that's going to prove as he ain't nothing of the sort. 'Im a
sportsman!--with an accent you could cut with a knife, clipping the
king's English! 'Watch 'im,' says Sergeant Evans, and that's what I'm
doing."

Thereat Jim Larkin stared pugnaciously at his companions, each in turn
coming in for a broadside from those prominent, squinting eyes of his,
while every feature of his face seemed to be working so as to let the
company in general know that Jim had a grievance. Then his pipe went to
his mouth, a pair of thick lips opened, tilting his fierce red
moustache, while the stem was thrust between an uneven row of
exceedingly black teeth. It was only when he had contrived to make the
pipe draw, and had puffed out a billow of smoke, that Jim's features
relaxed. He actually smiled at Hawkins. "And don't you go and get
nervous like," he told the tar, in a protecting tone of voice, "'cos
there's me aboard, and the Sergeant, to say nothing of that there Alec
Jardine, what's fit ter be a soldier. Mind, I ain't sayin' as 'e ain't
cut out fer a sailor too. But if a youngster's that, it don't always say
as he'd do for a soldier. No. Don't you think it, and as regards that
sportsman, don't you and your mate get nervous. As I've said jest now,
there's----"

"Stow it," growled Hurst, roused to anger by such patronage. "Why, if I
couldn't with this one hand manage that Mr. Reitberg, why----"

He stopped abruptly, his vocabulary being insufficient to express his
meaning, while Hawkins, Pierson, Peters, and the others nodded their
approval. Nor did they resent less than he the uppishness of Private
Larkin. There were covert threats to "show him what". Big, brawny hands
doubled up into formidable fists, while the eyes of the tars sought
those of the soldier, returning his previous broadsides in a manner
there was no denying. Then a broad smile disarmed them. It was only
Jim's fun. The crafty fellow had been merely joking.

"Lor!" he grinned. "It do make a chap smile to pull the legs of you
sailors, and it's a treat to meet some of ye and get chatting. But you
jest remember what I've said. There's a sportsman aboard. You watch
'im."

As far as they were able the crew of the airship did indeed keep a very
watchful eye upon the portly frame of Mr. Carl Reitberg. He never left
his cabin to pace the deck but some bare-footed sailor followed, or met
him by accident as it were, or made pretence to be on watch, and paced
the deck within easy distance. Down below, too, there was the Sergeant.
As we have narrated, he claimed an old acquaintance with the magnate,
though he was careful to keep that fact to himself, merely repeating his
warning to his employers. He even went so far as to inspect Carl
Reitberg's baggage, a task of no great difficulty since he acted as
valet as well as mess sergeant.

"Any particular wishes, sir?" he asked politely, soon after Carl's
arrival on board. "If you will kindly hand me your keys I will unpack
and stow your things in the wardrobe."

The lordly magnate handed them over instantly, with a curt nod of
approval. He was even pleased to hand the Sergeant a golden coin on his
return to the cabin. For his trunk was unpacked and removed to the
baggage apartment, while his clothes were laid out in the drawers of the
wardrobe.

"Keys, sir," said the Sergeant, handing them to him. "What about this
box, sir," and he pointed to the one which had accompanied Carl, and of
which he had been so careful. "Shall I take it to the baggage room?"

"Certainly not! Er--no, thank you," exclaimed the magnate promptly, and
with some acerbity. "Er--leave it there. It's full of--er--valuables,
things I wish to show to Mr. Provost. I had it sealed, and would have
brought the things in a safe but for the fact that it would have been so
heavy, too heavy for this vessel."

"She'll carry tons and tons, sir," came the respectful answer. "A dozen
safes wouldn't make any difference. So I'm to leave the box, sir?"

"Decidedly! Ah! I see that the seals are unbroken. That's satisfactory."

It may have been satisfactory to Mr. Reitberg, but it was anything but
that to Sergeant Evans.

"Don't I know his foxy ways, too," he told himself, when ensconced in
the privacy of his pantry diligently cleaning silver. "I haven't served
with the military police in South Africa without learning something, and
there's things I remember. For instance, this Carl Reitberg was someone
else out there, and not half so fine and mighty. I.D.B. they called him,
which means illicit diamond buyer. And there were other things he was
suspected to be, things that people forget when they see him dressed so
fine and know that he's as wealthy as they make 'em. I know--foxy!
That's him--I'm watching!"

So here was another following the very same plan adopted by the men
forward, while, had he but known it, even the redoubtable Dick with his
chum Alec had embarked on the same service.

"Of course, Andrew and the others don't believe he's here for anything
but a tour," said the former very abruptly, within two days of Carl's
arrival. "Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn't. I'm not going to trust to
luck, eh, Alec?"

"Certainly not; he's a fishy beggar. We'll take it in turns to dog him."

It followed, therefore, that Mr. Carl Reitberg was a very astonished
individual. He had already noticed the close proximity of sailors
whenever he trudged the upper deck, a promenade of which he soon became
exceedingly fond, for a magnificent view of the country over which the
ship was steering could always be obtained. But that proximity he put
down to the fact that the men had their orders, and that this being a
ship it was only proper that watches should be kept.

"Makes one feel secure and safe when high up," he told himself. "'Pon my
word this flying through space is magnificent. I never dreamed I could
do more than endure it. As for the aeroplane it is an abominable
invention. Never again do I set foot in the machine. Ah, Mr. Dick, I
think! Midshipman, I hear. Always up to mischief."

It was part of the magnate's scheme to make himself agreeable to all and
sundry, and now, as Mr. Midshipman Dick joined him, he greeted that
promising young officer with effusion.

"Sea dog, eh?" he quizzed. "Budding Nelson."

"Budding Nelson be blowed!" was Dick's disrespectful answer, only it was
_sotto voce_. "Sea dog! Listen to the fellow. Makes a chap feel ill.
Morning, Mr. Reitberg!" he said aloud. "Having a constitutional?"

"Regular custom," the fat little gentleman told him. "Travelled a lot,
don't you know, and have learned how to keep healthy. Come, tell me all
about the vessel."

Yes, it tickled the vanity of the magnate immensely to find himself so
popular. The guineas which he had distributed amongst the crew caused
him to be saluted constantly, a fact on which he preened himself. And
now even the youngsters had taken a fancy to him. If Dick were not at
his elbow, Alec was there, listening respectfully to his words, pointing
out details, laughing uproariously at his stories. But Carl Reitberg did
not know that one and all were watching. He never suspected _that_,
never suspected that there were those on board by whom he himself was
suspected.

"Fine," he told himself in the privacy of his cabin. "Fine--couldn't be
better. I'm getting bosom pal all round. Wait till I open that box and
show the contents to 'em."

He went across to it and inspected the seals. Yes, they were intact, a
huge blob of wax at both ends indented deeply with the vulgar seal which
hung upon his own massive frame, from a chain capable almost of holding
the airship.

Meanwhile the great airship ploughed her easy path through the limitless
leagues of the atmosphere, hardly even trembling as her powerful screw
pushed her forward, never wavering in her course, save when the master
hand of her inventor or the hand of the watchful steersman willed that
she should swerve to one side or the other. There were times, too, when
Dick or Alec would take post in the engine-room, and there stand at the
levers which controlled the movements of this giant vessel. Never once
did the gallant midshipman lose his admiration for this work of art,
this massive ship, so huge, so stable, and so strong, and yet so
extremely frail in appearance. Never did he cease to wonder at that
magnificent vista of almost transparent girders and beams and rods
ranging overhead, whenever he cared to crane his neck and stare upward.
Nor yet had he ceased to grin and find abundant amusement in the figures
of his fellow passengers.

"It's like a peepshow all the time," he told Alec one day with an
expansive grin. "One looks upward, as if through a window, and there are
the people we know, walking overhead, strutting backwards and forwards
for all the world as if they were flies. And one gets to know 'em by the
size of their boots, and--er--by other signs. For instance----"

"There's Mr. Andrew," said Alec.

"Sure enough--number one size boots, dapper, very."

"Military walk, smart and alert. White moustache to be seen also, but
coloured yellow by the celludine through which one sees him. Then
there's the Major."

"All there; walks quickly backwards and forwards. You can tell he's a
soldier."

"Then there's Hawkins and Hurst and the rest of the men rolling as is
the custom with tars. Say, Dicky, why do sailors roll? Is it side only?"

That brought a flush of wrath to the cheeks of the indignant Dicky.

"Side!" he gasped. "Side! You ever saw a sailor suffering from swelled
head? Look here, my son, I'll punch yours if you ain't more careful."

But it was all fun. They grimaced at one another and then grinned widely
as another figure appeared in the peculiar perspective of men tramping
overhead. It was the magnate, the high and mighty Mr. Reitberg, the
sportsman who pronounced his words with a very peculiar accent, and who
was fond of describing himself as English to the backbone.

"Tell him a mile off," sniffed Dick. "Big, flat feet, rest all
corporation. Can't get a glimpse of his ugly phiz for the size of his
tummy."

What a joy it was to these two bosom friends to send the ship bounding
forward! To stir up the motor gently purring beside them, to rouse it as
it were to a gentle fury, for that was one of the points of Joe's
handiwork and genius. This paraffin-fired motor of his ran as smoothly
as any turbine. You might accelerate it as much as you could, and still
it purred, though at its highest speeds the purr had become angry and
assertive. Yes, it was a joy to shut close, to bang and bar as it were,
the throttle and set the hydraulic pumps into full action. And how the
ship responded. She leaped forward, and there had been times when the
speedometer mounted in the engine-room told that the vessel was
thrusting herself through the air at the incredible speed of two hundred
miles an hour. Impossible! we hear some sceptical reader exclaim. Why?
But five years ago aeroplanes were spoken of derisively, while their
speed seldom exceeded forty miles an hour. To-day they can shoot through
the air at a hundred, and the day is fast approaching, thanks to Joe
Gresson and others of his kidney, when that speed will be as nothing.
Why, then, should this great airship not be able to attain to even
double the greatest known speed of an aeroplane? Why, indeed? Her design
was all in her favour. There was hardly a projection about her to cause
wind friction and delay her passage, while the smooth celludine with
which she was coated slid through the atmosphere with an ease that had
never been approached before. Add to these points, which all make for
speed, engines of the highest efficiency, a transmission of the latest
design and purely hydraulic. As carried out on the airship this means of
conveying power from the engines to the propeller guaranteed but the
merest fractional loss. In fact, what loss there was was negligible. And
the propeller itself was one for which aviators would willingly have
given a small fortune. But enough of such explanations. We live in a
world of marvellous and incredible invention. The armchair sceptic and
unbeliever of to-day has his views and scepticism shattered almost
before he was finished speaking. The marvels of the Zeppelin,
acknowledged to be the last word in airship construction, were now
overshadowed and belittled by the wonders of Joe Gresson's invention.
The world was raving about the ship. Scientists and inventors in every
country were longing to be made familiar with its intricacies.

Steering over the placid surface of the Mediterranean Joe Gresson and
his friends hovered over the port of Alexandria, and thence sailed for
Cairo. Shrill cries greeted her from the sandy desert about the ancient
pyramids, while a motley crowd waved to her from their summits. But
there was no time to halt. With one long look at the placid, cruel, yet
gentle face of the sphinx the ship's head was swung towards the east. An
hour later a long ribbon of blue, shimmering in the sun, and hedged on
either side by an unbroken expanse of yellow, told of the great Suez
Canal.

"We'll follow it through its length," said Joe, now at the helm. "See!
We are seven thousand feet up, and one can perceive a huge portion of
the canal, severed here and there by the bitter lakes through which it
runs. Ah! There's a ship. Let's drop down close to her."

The vessel plunged. One who was ignorant of her powers would have
imagined that she was about to crash to the ground. But she was merely
descending at her fastest pace, and plunging brought her within hailing
distance of the ship then passing through the canal, even before Mr.
Reitberg had quite recovered his nerve or his equilibrium.

"_Himmel!_" he shrieked, as the vessel headed downward and shot toward
the sand. "Hold her! She is falling! We shall all be killed."

He formed the mad resolution of rushing to the engine-room, and stepped
in that direction. But, as we have said, the inclination of the decks
considerably upset his equilibrium. The magnate indeed took a header,
slithered along the smooth platform beneath the gas chambers, and landed
up against one of the partitions with a bang which shook his eyeglass
from its holding. By then the vessel was within a hundred feet of the
canal, sailing along directly over it, and just ahead of the ship
ploughing her way through the water.

What cheers there were! How the passengers on that eastward-bound vessel
crowded the decks and shouted! And then the liner hoisted her Union
Jack, and dipped it formally. At once the watchful Hawkins responded
from the deck above, while again cheers came to the ears of Dick and his
friends.

"And just contrast the two ships," said Alec, when they had progressed
in this fashion for perhaps an hour. "Look! You can see the airship's
reflection in the water, and, my! ain't she a whopper!"

Yes, she was huge, vast, incredibly enormous. And yet how smoothly she
sailed along, and with what little effort! It was a fascinating picture
to behold. Dick found himself following the giant outline, picking out
the various points till then invisible from the deck above, or from the
platforms below. For instance, four huge attachments puzzled him
immensely, for they hung from the framework and seemed without purpose.

"All the same they're meant for business," Joe told him, with that
quiet, half-cynical smile for which he was notorious. "Oh yes, Dicky, we
don't have useless attachments on this ship, unless--ahem! it's amongst
the crew. I ain't, of course, referring to midshipmen."

But he was. He was teasing the gallant Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw, and had
he been Alec there would have been a rumpus.

"Seriously, though," he went on when he had had his laugh, "they're for
landing. You see, it don't do to bump a ship of this description. We
want to reach terra firma gently. Now, if you were to jump from a height
you'd land on your toes if possible, come down on to your heels, and
then bend your knees, all by stages as it were, quickly enough you
understand, but offering such graduated resistance that there would be
no shock at all. That's what happens with those attachments. Each one is
thirty feet in length, and hinged inside the frame of the airship at its
upper and forward end. Now, watch us. We'll bump to the ground. How's
that?"

It really was remarkable, and so thought the people on board the liner.
For Joe's practised hand arrested the engines. The ship came to a
standstill. Then she fell as if she were a dead weight, was arrested
within twenty feet of the ground merely by touching a single lever, and
then descended sharply. But there was no shock. Those four antennæ
hinged upward beneath the weight, gradually met it, and then held her
firmly suspended. Even the glassware on the saloon table was not shaken.

"And now for a trip on terra firma if only to stretch our legs," cried
Joe. "We'll take it by turns, half at a time."

It was singular how everyone fell in with the views of the young
inventor; and, in fact, it was to be observed aboard the airship that
though there was no recognized captain, no officers, and no regular
crew, yet the work aboard progressed with a smoothness which was
remarkable. There were rules, naturally enough, and all aboard had been
assigned duties. But the simplicity of the whole contrivance, and above
all, the efficiency of the engines, called for the smallest attention.

"Merely see that the lubricators are working, and that the fuel feed is
right, and things go along merrily," said Andrew, who was becoming quite
an engineer.

This opportunity of a trip ashore was seized upon by all in turn, and
long walks over the sandhills were indulged in. Then the airship picked
up passengers and crew once more, and rising from the sand steered a
course east and north, swooping over the deserts of Arabia. All the
following night she sped on without a halt, and when the lively Dick
again trod the deck he looked down upon the Arabian Sea. But it was
merely a corner of that vast ocean, for within a few hours the vessel
was sweeping over Persia.

"A sparsely inhabited country, and therefore one where we may venture to
halt for a while without fear of interruption," said Joe. "Our water
supply is running short, and if we are to continue our regular baths
every morning we must fill our tanks again."

Whoever heard of an airship carrying baths and water tanks of big
capacity? But this one did, and bore the weight as if it were nothing.
And the completeness of her equipment was again demonstrated, for,
having sighted a huge lake in the heart of Persia, and made sure that
there was not a town or a village in sight, Joe dropped the ship
directly on the water, setting her elevators to work so gently that they
held the giant framework but six feet above the surface.

"Now we drop our pumps, set the motors going, and in a jiffy fill the
tanks," he said. "Watch the whole performance."

But there was little to see, though Dick and Alec, ever the most curious
of those aboard, strained their necks to watch all that was passing. Two
snake-like, flexible metal pipes were passed from the engine-room
through apertures specially constructed for the purpose. Then the motor
hummed a little louder, while one of the pump attachments was set going;
the gurgle of water splashing into the tanks was the only indication
that the operation was being performed with success. An hour, indeed,
sufficed to replenish their supplies, when the ship shot upward once
more till some six thousand feet of pure, sun-lit air lay beneath her.

"And now for the north-west frontier of India, where our soldiers are
ever on the watch," said Joe. "Come, Major, you feel no nervousness? You
have no fears, I hope, lest our gas should run short and land us in the
arms of some of those gentry who look upon an Englishman as a dog, to be
slaughtered on any and every occasion?"

"You may take me where you will, in chains if you wish," was the smiling
response. "After the things that I have seen I have the utmost
confidence in both the leader of this expedition and on the ship his
hands have constructed. There! I cannot say more."

It may be stated that only one person aboard the airship had a doubt as
to her capacity and his own security, and, as may be guessed, that
individual was Carl Reitberg. But then he was always nervous for his own
skin.

"The north-west!" he gasped, when Joe told him of their immediate
destination. "But--but that's where there are always little wars and
skirmishes."

"Precisely," observed the Major, with cutting abruptness. "Our best
soldiers are bred there. I've had a dose of the north-west myself. Keeps
you alive, sir. And if you aren't lively, why----"

"Ahem!" lisped Dick. "You're dead, dead as a herring."

"And you go there?" stuttered the magnate, his face paling, his fat
cheeks trembling.

"Certainly!" declared Joe.

"But supposing something happened, supposing----"

"It won't, I hope," came the answer.

"But it might," chimed in Dick, grinning. "Then there'd be a ruction.
Say, Mr. Andrew, ain't they fond of torturing folks first?"

It was too bad to tease the wretched and craven Mr. Reitberg. But there
was no suppressing Dicky or his boon companion Alec. While in their
secret heart of hearts the Major and perhaps Joe and Mr. Andrew were not
altogether sorry. Nor did they say much to comfort the unhappy magnate.
Indeed, that stout and crafty gentleman was thrown into a violent
flutter two days later. For the wireless apparatus aboard suddenly
picked up a message.

"Someone calling, sir," reported the operator. "Calling with an
apparatus of low power. I can't quite tap the message, though it has
been getting stronger."

"Then we're moving towards it; we'll send her ahead. Wonder what it is?"
said Joe. "There are few wireless instruments in this part of the world,
and those there are belong to the British forces. Report again when you
can read the message."

At once the ship was sent ahead at her fastest pace, while the wireless
operator returned to his instruments. Nor was it long when he appeared
with a report.

"A force of Gurkha soldiers held up in the hills, sir," he told Joe.
"Calling for help, but not yet in touch with the instruments of their
main party. Urgently require relief. Ammunition almost run out. I told
them to expect us."

"Certainly!" cried Joe. "We'll do our utmost to relieve them. Major,
kindly see that arms are served to the men. Sergeant Evans has the keys
of the magazines."

"But--you will never venture to attack whoever is hemming in these
British soldiers," cried Mr. Reitberg, aghast.

"Then you'd let 'em be shot down, eh?" asked Andrew angrily.

"Er--well, how can we help it? It is their own business. Why should we
rush into danger?"

The magnate was positively shaking. He could scarcely stand, so
violently were his knees knocking. As for Joe, he turned on his heel and
went straightway to the engine-room, while the Major hurried off to
issue weapons to the men. Andrew regarded his guest grimly, and with
difficulty smothered his rising anger.

"Sir," he said with dignity, "those men are British soldiers. This ship
is British also. If there is a call for help we take it, whatever the
risk. Remember that you yourself owe to our country a debt which a
service such as this is will only partially help you to repay. There,
sir, if you are nervous retire to your cabin."

But Mr. Reitberg's anxiety would not allow him to do that. He paced the
broad deck of the ship a prey to terrible forebodings. Then, driven from
the open by the fierce rush of air there, he slid off to his cabin.

"Shall I, now?" he asked himself, as he handled that box with its seals
still adhering. "Shall I set the clockwork going and so put a stop to
the course these fools are taking? Ah! No! That would not do here. But
later. Yes, later I will punish them for incurring this danger."

Love for his own security forbade his taking the rash step he had for
the moment contemplated, for the consequences, he reflected, would be
disastrous to himself as well as to his fellows. But later; yes, he
would open that box; that is, if he were still living. For the ship was
plunging furiously onward, and every few minutes the wireless operator
telephoned his news of an impending British disaster. There were a
thousand dusky natives hemming in but fifty Gurkha soldiers and one
British officer. Their ammunition was almost spent. The enemy were
within charging distance of them.

"Tell 'em we're coming fast," was Joe's curt answer. "And, Major, just
make all ready for action."




CHAPTER XIV

A Brush with Pathans


"There! At last! Listen!"

The Major held up a hand for silence while he hung out of the window of
the gallery running beneath the huge framework of the airship.

"Look! You can see the flashes from the guns of the Pathans," he called.
"A circle of them, getting very close too. What's the latest message?"

"Officer hit, sir," reported the wireless operator. "Several men hurt
since we were first called up. Ammunition gone completely. They expect
to be rushed at any instant, and in any case once night has completely
fallen."

"In fact a dangerous if not desperate situation," said Andrew, his voice
anxious. "Now, what do we do? I am prepared to make any sacrifice that
may be necessary. But wait; could we not direct our searchlights on the
enemy and so scare them away? They are sure to be ignorant savages, and
a beam from above might very well throw them into a panic."

But Major Harvey shook his head decidedly, though one could not see the
movement, for all lights aboard the ship had been switched off. Outside
there was darkness, getting more intense every minute, while, as the
Major had informed them, one could detect flashes spurting from a
hundred points in a circle, while the rattle of musketry came faintly to
the ear. The position of the dusky enemy was, in fact, clearly outlined
by those flashes, and looking downward Dick could imagine the position
of the gallant little band of Gurkhas stationed somewhere in the centre
awaiting the rush of the enemy.

"With bayonets ready fixed," he told himself. "But it'd be short work in
the darkness. Those Pathans would creep in--are creeping in even
now--and outnumber our fellows by twenty to one. Yes, this is a tough
little business."

It was obvious that the Major viewed it in a similar light, while he was
emphatic in his reply to Andrew.

"Might scare 'em a trifle at first with your lights," he told him
shortly. "But, bless you, these Pathans aren't so uneducated as you
imagine. They've lived so long within call of the British that they keep
in touch with big movements. The many friends they send down into the
plains to loot rifles return with tales of what they've seen, with news
of what they've heard in the bazaars and hovels they've frequented. So
they've seen motor cars for a certainty, and possibly a solitary
aeroplane. In any case they know the sahib can rise into the air and
stay there. That's why their astonishment won't easily be turned to
alarm. But if there were daylight the size of this ship alone might send
'em skeedadling. No, Mr. Andrew, we've got to do something active."

"At your service. In what way, Major? Mention it and you will have our
support."

"Then ammunition's wanted; so's an officer."

"And you suggest----?"

"With your approval I propose to descend to our troops, taking
ammunition with me. You have service rifles aboard and have an abundant
store of cartridges. Then lower a few cases as rapidly as you are able."

Andrew was not the one at such a time to stand chattering, while had he
been one of undecided mind Joe would have given an order promptly.
Fortunately both uncle and nephew were alike in that respect, and at
once assented to the Major's proposal. A low call, indeed, brought
Hawkins and Hurst and a few of the others hurrying forward, with
Sergeant Evans and Private Larkin in close attendance.

"I've roused half a dozen cases of ammunition already, sir," reported
the Sergeant. "They're being carried at this moment toward the lift."

"Good!" cried the Major. "Then there need be no delay. Now, Mr. Andrew,
if your nephew will kindly locate our friends below, so that I may be
dropped directly toward them, we will soon bring a change to this
situation. And once I have landed, a searchlight turned upon the enemy
will be of great advantage. I need not ask you to be cautious not to
turn the beams on the little party I hope to have the honour of
commanding within a few minutes."

Brisk and abrupt as became a soldier about to undertake a hazardous
expedition, the Major at once stepped toward the lift. Joe himself made
for the engine room, and within a minute a dazzling beam was flooding
the landscape below, not the ordinary beam that one would have expected,
but a cunning circle of rays controlled by a lamp of Joe's own
invention. In fact he had merely taken the precaution to place a black
disk in the centre of the enormous reflector of the lamp, so that the
central beams were almost entirely occluded. Staring down from the
airship, her crew and passengers found that they were above a
mountainous district. Huge rocks and pinnacles cropped up from a plateau
which was barren and strewn with boulders, while the general trend of
the ground was steeply downward, from the point immediately beneath the
vessel. It was there, gathered in a circle surrounded by rocks, that the
feeble central rays, the few which had managed to escape the
obliterating disk, fell upon some sprawling figures.

"The Gurkhas," cried Dick. "Look at 'em waving. And see the enemy!"

The latter were easily visible, and it made Dick catch his breath when
he observed that some were within two hundred yards perhaps of that
little central group. Creeping forms were half hidden behind rocks.
Others were worming a way across open ground, while, as the beams played
upon them, not a few of the dusky enemy stood upright and waved their
arms and shouted. Indeed, some turned tail and ran. Then loud commands
recalled them, while one figure erected itself, a figure swathed in
flowing garments, arms were tossed overhead, and those in the airship
could hear a stentorian voice haranguing the men.

"Listen!" cried the Major. "Ah! 'My brethren,' he calls to them, 'my
brethren, be not fearful of the white light which shines from the sky.
It is not magic. It is merely the lamp from the balloon of the infidel.
What harm may a lamp do then to the faithful? How can it come between us
and these Gurkha dogs whom we have been seeking this many a day? Then
cease to take note of it. Fear not, but push forward, for their
ammunition is exhausted. Now, I myself will lead the rush.'

"What's our height?" asked the Major abruptly.

"A thousand feet," suggested Dick.

"No, six hundred," Joe corrected him from the entrance to the
engine-room.

"Then lower me to our fellows, then ascend out of range of shot. Many of
those Pathans are armed with modern rifles and could riddle the ship.
Now, sir, I am ready."

"So am I," cried Dick, taking his place on the platform of the lift,
where the ammunition cases had already been placed.

"And I also," chimed in Alec, joining him.

"But----" began Andrew.

"Let 'em come," said the Major. "It'll be a fine experience for them.
But you know the risks, lads."

Dick grinned. He had a way of doing that when excited. Alec merely slung
his rifle across his shoulders and gripped the supporting cable.

"Lower away then," cried Andrew. "Now!"

The motor hummed that cheerful refrain to which all had now become
accustomed. The platform sank from the gallery gently at first, and then
fell rapidly. And as it went, the rays of the lamp were shut off
completely. But a few moments later, when the telephone bell sounded and
the Major's voice was heard, the beams again swamped the underlying
landscape, showing the lift but a few feet above the group of Gurkhas.
"Lower," they heard from the Major.

"Grounded, and as gently as possible," said Joe. "Ah! They've taken the
cases off. Now, up she comes. Send the ship upward; and, Hawkins."

"Sir," that worthy responded, saluting in nautical fashion.

"Put the men at the windows of the gallery and let 'em fire down upon
the enemy. Sergeant Evans, you'll see that there's ammunition."

There was at once brisk movement aboard the ship, while down below the
patter of rifle shots had already come from the central group of
soldiers. Indeed, those ammunition cases were already opened, and within
a minute of the Major's arrival the Gurkhas had all received a supply of
cartridges.

"I'll post myself in the centre," the Major told Dick and Alec swiftly.
"You, Dick, take command of the men on the upper face. That's the point
from which the rush is likely to come, for that's where their chief is
stationed. Alec, take the lower slope, and look out for crawling
rascals. Ah! They've opened from the ship, and some of the Pathans are
replying."

Bullets indeed were hissing upward, and twice Joe flinched as a missile
hit the celludine sides of his pet airship.

"It'll--it'll bring us down, won't it?" gasped Andrew, though he showed
no signs of terror.

"Not it," came the reassuring answer. "We shall lose a little gas
perhaps, for those bullets make but the smallest opening. It would
require a shell to do great damage. Even then, don't forget that there
are quite a number of compartments. Wish to goodness I had brought bombs
aboard the ship. A few dropped on the heads of the enemy would send 'em
scuttling."

The need for such inventions was beneath the ship without a doubt, for
the circling beam of light showed that the Marconi operator had made no
error when he reported that there were a thousand Pathans hemming in the
Gurkha soldiers. Indeed, every little rock seemed to shelter a recumbent
figure, while rifles could be seen protruding from a hundred crevices.
Moreover, the arrival of the ship had stirred the enemy to greater
exertions, while the fact that ammunition had now reached the defenders
of the central position roused them to fury. The loud crackle of
musketry from the ship also helped not a little to force the Pathans to
complete their task at once or slink away into the darkness.

"Massing up above me, sir," Dick reported coolly, when the Major crept
across to the post he had taken some few minutes later. "I've seen that
chief of theirs twice and tried to pot him. But he's artful. He and his
men are closer. They'd have been here by now but for the light which
shows their positions. The Gurkhas ain't wasting many shots either."

In the half-light playing over the defenders it was possible to see the
short, sturdy forms of the native soldiers, those hillmen who have
fought so often side by side with their white comrades. They lay in a
circle, each man behind cover, with magazines crammed in preparation for
the moment when the enemy would charge. Slowly and deliberately they
were shooting cartridges from their pouches into the breeches of their
weapons, and every half-second there was a sharp report, and often
enough an answering shriek from the enemy.

Ah! Suddenly that tall figure clad in flowing raiment stood erect, while
the chief waved a rifle over his head. Instantly a dozen weapons held by
the Gurkhas covered him, and Dick himself swung his own rifle to his
shoulder. But the figure dropped out of sight promptly, only to appear a
minute later some fifteen feet to the right. It was a broad-bladed
tulwar which the beams from above them showed him to be waving. A loud
shout escaped him, and instantly, as if it were a signal, as undoubtedly
it was, the Pathans became silent. Not one drew trigger. Then the clear,
ringing voice of the chief was heard once more.

"Telling 'em to make ready," said the Major crisply. "Listen! This is
what he says. I know their lingo and so can translate. 'Brethren, the
hour has come to end this little matter. If we delay, then the infidel
will prove too strong for us. Drop, then, your rifles and firearms.
Take to your knives, and when I shout once more rush in upon the
accursed infidel.'"

"Got him!" declared Dick a second later. "Hate shooting a fellow in the
open, but then, it's he or us. Eh, sir?"

"Quite right! A good shot and a plucky one," cried the Major. "You
risked getting a bullet from the enemy. That shot of yours will quieten
them for a few moments. But it won't stop the rush. Every man in a tribe
such as this is capable of leading his fellows. Yes; watch closely, and
you, men," he went on, turning to the Gurkhas, and speaking in their own
language, "obey the officer here. The enemy will rush at any moment. As
they come, pour volleys into them, then stand shoulder to shoulder and
give them the bayonet."

A hoarse cheer came from the sturdy Gurkhas, a cheer answered by Hawkins
and Hurst and his fellows overhead.

"There's me and Larkin and few more of the boys as would give summat to
be down there a waitin' for them 'eathen," said the former, growling the
words into Joe's ear. "Me and some of my mates 'd give a heap to be
alongside of them 'ere Gurkha fellers, a standin' with bayonets fixed.
Lor, sir, see them Pathan villains! If they ain't all crawling and
crawling towards one corner."

From the gallery of the airship it was possible to see everything, and
with a twinge of apprehension Joe discerned perhaps five hundred figures
now. They were leaving hollows and cover from all directions, and were
creeping and worming their way towards one quarter, the point from which
their chief had called to them.

"Very serious," he told himself. "They're massing for a charge. I'll
drop the ship closer and chance more of their bullets, though for the
last few minutes they have left us alone. Ah! Sergeant Evans, what do
you advise?"

"Send the ship a trifle closer, sir," came the prompt answer. "Get
directly over those varmint. Then--then leave 'em to me. I've prepared
something for 'em, something that'll blow a few of 'em back into their
own passes."

"A bomb?" asked Joe, dumbfounded, for as he had said, he had brought
nothing of the sort aboard with him. Indeed, firearms and weapons of
offence generally were not of great interest to him. His was the subtle
mind which gripped larger affairs, affairs such as this airship, and her
simple yet extremely efficient equipment. But if he were ignorant of
weapons, cartridges, and bombs, Sergeant Evans had at least some
acquaintance with such matters.

"Thought we'd likely enough want something of the sort, sir," he said.
"So I've got 'em ready. Move the ship directly over 'em, sir. Quick,
too, or they'll be starting to rush, and then nothing will hold them.
There! See them Gurkhas! The Major's drawing them all close together, so
it's clear that he's seen what's passing."

The unusual opportunities that the light playing upon the surroundings
of the Gurkhas gave offered opportunities to the gallant Major which
otherwise would have been missing. Indeed, the paucity of numbers of the
little British force was in a measure compensated for by the darkness
which hung over them, and by the brilliant light surrounding their
enemy. Had there been no cover there, save in the centre, no doubt that
spreading light would have enabled the Major quickly to send the Pathans
scuttling. But the ground was strewn with rocks, rocks which offered
first-class cover, and even gave protection against bullets fired from
the airship. Not that Hawkins and his comrades missed their chances.
Many a crawling enemy did they locate, and many a Pathan did they cause
to bite the dust. But they could not stop that concentrating movement no
more than could the Gurkhas; and presently, peeping from behind the rock
which sheltered him, Dick made out a mass of human beings to his front,
every rock and crevice seeming to hold a figure.

Suddenly a man stood to his full height, careless of the weapons wielded
by the Gurkhas. Two arms waved frantically above his head, while there
was the gleam of steel flashing in the rays of the electric light
pouring down upon them.

"The hour is here; Allah bids us advance. To those who fall, there is
happiness and glory in the long future. Charge!"

He was a brave man, and at any other time Dick would willingly have seen
him spared. But he was a leader, and, as such, of danger to this little
party. It was, therefore, with a sigh of relief that he saw the man's
figure suddenly straighten. The chief leaned backward, his arms
widespread, his tulwar dangling from one wrist Then, with a shriek, he
leaped forward, crumpled up in midair, and fell heavily upon a boulder.

"But another will take his place," whispered the Major. "Dick, this is
even hotter than I had anticipated. I was rash to let you and Alec come.
For me, it is merely a matter of duty, for an officer was wanted badly.
For you, it is a different matter, and if anything happens----"

"It'll be duty for me too, sir," answered the midshipman coolly. "I'm an
officer too, sir, don't forget that. Besides, we ain't dead yet. A long
way from it."

That was Mr. Dicky Hamshaw all over. His cheerful optimism was catching.
It was just the thing for which his tars adored him.

"If that ain't Mr. Dicky there a-standin' out in the open!" shouted
Hurst at that very moment, catching sight of the familiar figure of the
young sailor as the lamp above swayed and swept a few scattered beams
over the Gurkhas. "He's a-shakin' 'is fist at the 'eathen, and he's
a-standin' in the open. Get under cover there, sir," he bawled loudly
through the window of the gallery, while Hawkins and the others stared
anxiously down at their middy.

"And there's Mister Alec, 'im as is too good for a sailor," chimed in
Private Larkin, though the effort at humour at that moment cost him
something. "Blest if he ain't a-standing alongside of that 'ere Dicky,
a-talkin' to him as cool as a gineral."

"Stop talking, men, please," came from Joe, in anxious tones. "Now is
the time to pepper the enemy, for I fear that they are about to charge.
Yes. Look! Another rascal has risen to lead them."

The crackle of musketry from the grouped figures of the Gurkhas told
plainly enough that the time for trial was upon them, while if Joe and
the crew of the airship had a doubt, the lamp soon convinced them. That
slow, careful movement of concentration was now completed. Perhaps five
hundred of the enemy were gathered in one quarter, and but two hundred
yards separated them from the Major and his command. And a third leader
had suddenly put in an appearance. The Gurkhas could not see him, though
Joe and Andrew could. For he was behind an enormous piece of rock, where
he was busily haranguing his fellows.

"And a-callin' of 'em to 'ack Mr. Dicky Hamshaw to pieces," growled
Hawkins, adjusting his sights on the figure. "This 'ere's for an
'eathen--a black-'earted 'eathen!"

His weapon snapped, there was a loud thud as the bullet struck the rock
behind which the chief was standing, and then a shout from Mr. Andrew.

"They're off! They're charging!" he cried.

"Make way! Now, drop her a trifle, sir," called Sergeant Evans, who had
posted himself at one of the windows. "That will do. Stop her. Now
watch."

He tossed something from the airship and craned his head as far as was
possible. As for Hawkins and the rest of the crew, they fired madly down
upon the enemy. For those five hundred figures, partly hidden some few
seconds earlier, were now in the open. They were rushing together across
the two hundred yards of barren ground which alone separated them from
the forlorn Gurkhas. In half-dozens, in clusters of ten and more, in
ones and twos and threes, with streaming banners, with waving arms and
whirling knives and tulwars, they were descending upon Dick and his
gallant comrades as a whirlwind, a human avalanche which would overwhelm
them. It made Andrew positively ill with fear of the consequences. He
shut his eyes tightly and gripped the frame of the window. As for Joe,
he darted towards the engine-room, with the mad, half-formed idea of
sending the ship plunging downward, charging that charging host, in
fact. Even Hawkins forgot to use his weapon any longer. Sergeant Evans
alone retained perfect coolness.

"Another second," he shouted to them, "one little second, and then----"
The answer came before he had finished speaking. The head of that
charging column was suddenly enveloped in a blinding flash, a flash the
brilliance of which dimmed the rays from the ship's lamp. Those whirling
Pathans melted, as it were, were swept aside, were blown out of sight by
a terrific explosion. Even those in the airship above felt a portion of
the concussion, while the vast ship itself trembled and swayed
ominously.

"What is that? We are hit with a shell! We are falling!"

The stout figure of Carl Reitberg appeared at his cabin door, clutching
at it convulsively. But not one took the smallest notice of him, save
Andrew, who turned and bade him curtly to be silent.

"A few feet ahead, sir," called Sergeant Evans. "Now, that'll stop 'em."

Once more he leaned from the window of the gallery and tossed something
into space. And again there were some seconds' anxious waiting. Then
there came a mighty explosion, more forcible than the first--a
concussion and blast of flame and gas which shot the ship upward. Down
below it brought havoc to the Pathans, for it fell almost in the centre
of that still-charging host, sweeping perhaps a hundred out of
existence. Howls resounded on every side, while the rays streaming down
upon this battlefield showed dusky figures scuttling away in all
directions. And then came cheers, hoarse cheers of relief from the
Gurkhas, while Hawkins and his comrades made the night hideous with
their shouting. Indeed, for perhaps five minutes the noise continued,
while occasionally a shot rang out as a Gurkha sighted some crawling
figure. Then Joe manoeuvred the ship over the spot which the Major had
been holding, and let her settle gently.

"Now for food for the men and more ammunition, beside help for the
wounded," he said. "Let's bustle."

The following morning found their work completed; while, as the ship
rose once more, she sighted a relieving column within a mile of the
little force to whose aid they had come on the previous evening. It was
clear, in fact, that there was no longer need for delay, and therefore
the airship was headed eastward. Nor had Joe Gresson been idle in the
meanwhile. He had repaired the few holes in the envelope of the vessel,
and had set his gas producer in action, thereby replenishing losses. And
now he steered for the heart of India, for Delhi, in fact, where he
proposed to restock his larders. Two days later found the party hovering
over that ancient and historic city, while that same evening the huge
airship lay resting tranquilly outside the fortifications, within sight
of the famous ridge of Delhi, a vast multitude gazing on her.

Doors in that long gallery were thrown open, officers and high
officials, both British and native, thronged the ship, while even ladies
partook of Andrew's hospitality. Indeed there was a merry party in the
saloon, while Dicky Hamshaw was conducting an admiring party over the
vessel. Only one individual was missing. It was Mr. Carl Reitberg, at
that moment skulking in his cabin.

"At last," he was chuckling, as he rubbed his hands together, and gently
prised open that curious box of his. "At last the time has come to teach
these people a lesson. A little caution, a little watching, and then the
ship flies in pieces. Of course, it'll be sad for the men. I've no
grudge against 'em. But then, how can I help killing a few? The
destruction of the ship is all-important. Yes, a little cunning and I
shall lay the bombs, set the clockwork in motion, and go. Who is to say
that it was not due to a dreadful accident?"

The man's face was positively hideous in its cunning. Those aboard the
airship were indeed face to face with a crisis.




CHAPTER XV

The Great Attempt


A motley crowd thronged the narrow streets of the old city of Delhi,
that city to which for so many years the eyes of the natives of India
had ever been turned, the same quaint, battlemented stronghold which had
seen those mutineers arrive flushed with the success of their first
massacres of sahibs and mem-sahibs and children, had witnessed the
struggle of sepoys to overthrow the British Raj.

A noisy crowd of gesticulating people, as dusky almost as ebony, some
resplendent in many-coloured robes and turbans, others, the coolies,
clad in but the lightest raiment, bargained at the numerous booths, or
sat on their haunches in the sun, basking in the heat, smoking their
hubble-bubbles. Now and again a sowar passed, mounted on his wiry
animal, as fine a soldier as this jewel in England's glorious crown
could well produce. Then came a Gurkha maybe, though very few were to be
found in the neighbourhood of Delhi; a tall Sikh followed, his dark eyes
glowing beneath his huge and picturesque turban. In short, a motley
crowd, a crowd of surpassing interest, wended its way hither and
thither, some about their ordinary business, some on shopping bent,
others merely idling, trusting to meet chance acquaintances when they
could forgather in some quiet corner and chatter about the huge airship.

"Ripping!" declared Alec, when he and Dick had looked on at the throng
for perhaps an hour, and had strolled through a number of streets. "It's
quite the most interesting thing I have ever seen. Look! There are
English people mixed up with the natives."

There was every nationality one could imagine almost. Slim, sly men from
the hills, in the neighbourhood of the North-West, a couple of Afghan
merchants but recently arrived by way of the Khyber Pass, a Parsee
banker, a native clerk, a postman of dusky colour. Then a group of
chattering women, a bevy of girls from the nearest school, clad in
garments very similar to those worn by their European sisters. And later
a gorgeously-caparisoned elephant, with some native prince in the
howdah. A band sounded in the distance, and presently a British regiment
swung by, the natives on either side salaaming to the colours, which
Dick saluted in naval style. Nor were our two young friends the least
interesting of the people bustling about the streets of Delhi. A couple
of clean, jolly, well-set-up young Englishmen they looked, their white
drill suits and topees suiting them admirably. But there were others of
interest also. Three sailors swung by, barging through the crowd with
that curious roll so common to men of the sea. Need we say that they
were Hawkins, Hurst, and Pierson, with the cantankerous and unlovely
Private Larkin in close attendance? And didn't they take good care to
salute our two young friends!

"It's him!" growled Hawkins fiercely in Private Larkin's ear when he
caught sight of Dick and Alec. "Now then, all together, and mind there
ain't no skulking."

"'Oo's a skulking, I'd like to know?" came in grumbling tones from the
soldier even in the midst of a fierce salute. "One would think as you
naval chaps was the only ones as could do a job of this sort nice and
handy! 'Sides, I'm salutin' Mr. Alec, 'im as is fit ter be a soldier,
and will be. I ain't no doubt as he'll pass the Navy. It ain't in his
line, yer see. Too much red tape and pipeclay for 'is liking."

It was another effort on the part of this pleasant individual to get up
a fierce argument, and had the men been gathered in their quarters
aboard the airship no doubt Hawkins would have obliged him. But there
was too much to be seen on every hand, and therefore, with a growling
"Come along, you," he led the way past our heroes and down the bazaar.

"Hallo! Mr. Carl Reitberg of all people! Thought he was abed, quite done
up after that little affair of ours on the north-west frontier,"
exclaimed Dick, some few minutes later. "The high and mighty Carl
Reitberg seated in a gharri careering about the streets of Delhi. Look
at him shouting because the crowd don't move aside soon enough for his
majesty. And where is he going?"

"Which reminds me that we haven't kept up that watch since we came to
Delhi," said Alec. "Think he's up to any games?"

How could one answer that question? No doubt the magnate had his own
business to transact, and indeed, halted at a bank and entered. When he
emerged Dick saw that he was tucking a well-filled purse into his
pocket. He struggled into his cab, mopped his forehead with a
handkerchief of brilliant hue, and then gave directions to the driver.

"Vote we follow," cried Dick. "I don't like our guest's face, to be
quite frank with you. What's he drawing money for? Where's he going?"

"Might just as well expect other folks to be asking the same question
about us. But we'll follow. Here, out of the way, you son of a gun. Hi!
Gharri!"

Alec displaced the dusky individual who barred his path, and waved
frantically to a cabman. A minute later the two were seated in the
gharri, which at once set out in pursuit of the one that Carl Reitberg
had taken.

"Booking office of the railway," said Dick, ten minutes later, seeing
Carl descend and enter an office so labelled. "Had enough of the airship
it seems, and will make the trip to the coast by train. But that's
queer, ain't it?"

"What's queer? Why? How?" asked Alec in a breath.

"Don't be a donkey! Carl Reitberg's queer."

"Ill? He don't look it. Seems to be he's very much alive-o!"

Dick turned an indignant, not to say angry glance upon his companion.

"You are thick!" he said bluntly. "I wasn't referring to the health of
our estimable friend. I was referring to his actions. They're queer,
ain't they?"

"No--why? Why shouldn't he return by train and steamer if he wishes to
do so?"

"Because at breakfast this morning he told us all how he was enjoying
the trip. Pretended even to have been charmed with our little brush with
those Pathans. Said nothing would induce him to part with the airship
till she had landed him in England."

"My! Yes. Greasy beggar," reflected Alec. "What's it mean? Playing
double. But perhaps he ain't booking. Look here, I'll hop in and listen
to what's passing."

Mr. Carl Reitberg was without a doubt booking a seat for Bombay. Alec
squeezed himself through the throng of Europeans in the booking office,
and managed to reach a spot just behind the magnate. There he heard him
enquiring for the next ship sailing from Bombay, and watched as he
booked a cabin.

"You're right; it's mighty queer," he told Dick on returning. "What does
it mean?"

"Everything, perhaps; perhaps nothing. He's foxy, and means to clear
out, that's plain. But it don't say that he means us or the ship a
mischief. Not that I'd trust him. Sergeant Evans is full of dark hints,
and could tell us a yarn, I'm sure, if we encouraged him. I'm going to
set a watch on Mr. Reitberg."

"Those beggarly brats," reflected the magnate, ten minutes later, when
he emerged from the office and saw a gharri passing with our two young
friends aboard. "Sight-seeing, I suppose. Well, they've not seen me
buying my ticket. No one has. I've thrown dust in their eyes nicely. Now
I can return to the ship, wait my chance, and then----"

It made him chuckle. He sat back in the gharri smiling and perspiring,
mopping his forehead from time to time. And it was with a wonderfully
elastic step that he strode from the gharri to the airship, roughly
pushing aside the throng of natives and entered the gallery.

"It'll be a big affair," he told himself with a grim smile. "Of course,
as I've said before, I'm sorry about the crew. But that's their lookout.
A hundred or more of these natives blown to pieces will make not the
smallest difference. Dinner-time to-night'll suit admirably. Then we're
all aboard. The men'll be in their quarters, with perhaps one patrolling
on the deck above, and two outside, to keep the curious natives at a
distance. I'll be late for dinner; yes, that's the card to play. I send
my compliments to Mr. Andrew, and beg to be excused as the heat has
upset me. Excellent! A splendid excuse. Then, when all's quiet, I set
the bombs in position, creep out of the ship, and while Delhi is
lamenting the terrible catastrophe, and thousands are chattering, I
simply board the train and take the road for England."

He sat down in his cabin to mop his forehead again, and then took off
his coat and waistcoat. "Come in," he cried testily, to a knock at the
door.

It was Sergeant Evans, respectful and polite as ever. "Dinner half an
hour later this evening, sir," he said. "I'll put your things out now,
so as not to disturb you later."

"Terribly hot," gasped Carl. "Hardly feel as if I could eat anything.
Shouldn't wonder if I didn't turn up for dinner, Sergeant."

Like the well-trained, polite fellow he was the Sergeant expressed no
surprise. He merely touched the button which controlled the electric fan
and set it going.

"Hot in here, sir," he said. "That'll make things cooler. Hope you'll
feel better presently. Half-past six now, sir. Perhaps a little sleep
would put you right, and make you ready for dinner."

"Perhaps," agreed Carl laconically, mopping his forehead again. "I'll
try. But don't disturb me. If I don't turn up after the gong has gone,
leave me to myself. I'll be sleeping."

The face of the Sergeant was inscrutable as he left the cabin. If it
said anything at all, it expressed commiseration for this somewhat stout
and unwieldy sportsman, and the hope that he would soon feel more
himself. But if his features meant that, his immediately following
actions contrasted curiously with them. For the worthy Sergeant passed
into his own quarters, and from thence into his pantry. And by a
curious freak of fortune that pantry happened to be immediately next to
the cabin occupied by the worthy Carl Reitberg.

"Don't I know him? Oh no! Certainly not!" observed the Sergeant beneath
his breath. "Mr. Carl Reitberg, yes, that's his name now; I.D.B. back in
South Africa in the old days. He's feeling queer, and he don't expect
he'll come along to dinner. Well, we'll hope he will. But we'll see
what's happening in the meanwhile."

So straightway he crept to the wall of the pantry, and slid aside a tiny
panel, some two inches long, and of half that height. It was quite a
simple contrivance, and had merely required a sharp knife and a slip of
sheet celludine. A hot iron had cemented the runners of this slide to
the wall, while anyone entering either the pantry or the adjacent cabin
would have found it difficult to detect this opening. An inch-square
aperture gave a wide view of the quarters allotted to the magnate, and
of that individual himself.

"Felt ill, did he? Poor chap!" observed the Sergeant. "Thought he'd
follow my advice and have a sleep. Looks like trying, don't he?"

The fat form of the magnate was engaged at that precise moment in
anything but an attempt to fall asleep. He was leaning over that
precious box which he had brought aboard with him, and which he would
have others believe contained valuables of great interest. The seals
were broken already, and half a dozen of the screws with which the lid
was secured were already drawn. The magnate was puffing heavily in his
efforts to loosen one which was strangely tight and refractory. At
length, however, after a fierce struggle, he succeeded, and some ten
minutes later had the box open.

"And here's where the fun begins," said the watching Sergeant. "I'm as
keen as possible to see what he's got in that box, and what he'll do
with 'em. Ah! Two nicely rolled parcels, Mr. Carl, fresh and clean from
the hands that wrapped 'em in Old England. Valuables, to be sure!
Priceless; deserved a safe if only this ship would have carried one."

There was a grim smile on his lips as he closely watched the movements
of the scoundrel bending over the box. For here indeed was a
conspirator. If there had been any doubt, the man's own movements would
have betrayed his uneasiness, his guilty thoughts, for Carl was
decidedly uneasy. Never a man of courage, rather the reverse, as he had
abundantly proved, the doing of this miserable and wicked deed he
contemplated shook him severely. Though he imagined he had braced up his
shaky nerves for the adventure, and though he encouraged himself by the
thought that there was no personal danger in the matter, no fear of
discovery, and no difficulty in getting clear away, yet he was
frightened, frightened of his own image. It caused the Sergeant to
smile, indeed, when Carl, suddenly catching sight of his own reflection
in the mirror opposite him, blanched and gripped the table.

"Gave me quite a turn," he gasped, his strong accent more noticeable
than ever. "_Himmel!_ But this deed requires more force than I had
imagined. But there is no danger. Can be none while I have my ticket for
the train and boat in my pocket. As for the bombs, they cannot explode
till the clockwork is wound. Then I merely set the hands to the hour at
which I desire the explosion, and--leave."

"Very simple," smiled the Sergeant. "And I wonder where he'll put his
bombs and how this ship's going to suffer. Of all the rascals I ever set
eyes on, it's him. Sportsman! Tish!"

He had seen enough, and went off to the saloon to lay his table and make
ready for dinner. There was a thoughtful look upon his face, an
expectant smile which boded little goodwill for Mr. Reitberg. As for
Dick and Alec, they were nonplussed by the disappearance of the one they
had determined to watch. He had gone to ground in his cabin and was
resting there.

"Having a sleep, sir," the Sergeant told them naïvely. "Finds it
precious hot. Don't fancy he'll turn up for dinner."

"Then I'm going straight to Joe and Mr. Andrew," Dick whispered to Alec.
"We've found out that this sportsman's going to hook it. Then what's he
up to?"

"Something, perhaps; nothing, perhaps. Let's hang on a bit and watch
when the others are at dinner. Carl can't slip out of his cabin by the
window, now can he?"

Dick admitted the fact briskly.

"Then he has to come by way of the gallery. Good! We watch at either
end. We nab him if he tries hanky-panky."

"And if he don't. Supposing he just clears off for the station?"

The question was somewhat of a facer, for how could Dick and Alec then
interfere? Carl had as much right to leave the ship as they had. Then,
supposing he went by the ordinary route, through the gallery and so into
the open, who could arrest him? It would be an outrage, a breach of good
manners; worse, in fact.

"Oh, let's leave that question to later," said Dick airily. "He ain't
going by the window, that's certain. Then we watch at each end of the
gallery, and if he gets up to monkey tricks, why, we bowl him over."

Little did the magnate imagine that three at least of his fellow
passengers were waiting for his appearance. Not that the worthy Sergeant
showed much concern. Now and again, on his numerous visits to the
pantry, he slid that panel aside and squinted into the cabin. But he
went on with his duties, prepared the table, set the chairs, and finally
rang the gong briskly. As he did so the clock in the saloon chimed
eight. It was precisely half an hour after Mr. Andrew's usual hour for
dinner, and with soldier-like exactness the Sergeant announced the meal
at the very moment for which it had been ordered. He escorted Joe and
his uncle, the Commander and the Major, to their places, announced that
Mr. Reitberg wished to be excused, and murmured in Joe's ear the fact
that Dick and Alec had returned to the ship and had then departed again.

"Then we won't wait," said Andrew brusquely. "Let us go on with the
meal."

"Certainly, sir," replied the Sergeant.

At once he served the soup, with the help of an assistant. Then he took
his stand behind Andrew, waiting and watching the diners as becomes a
well-trained attendant. But had he forgotten the rascal in that adjacent
cabin? Had he allowed the matter to escape his mind? It would seem so,
indeed, though there was no excuse, for but a matter of ten minutes
earlier he had watched the crafty Carl set the hands of his two clocks
to eight-fifteen and wind the springs. Why, he must be mad, crazy, for
at that very moment Carl Reitberg was preparing to emerge from his
cabin. But Sergeant Evans went on with his waiting methodically. He
removed the empty soup plates and the tureen, and having placed clean,
hot plates before the diners handed the fish to each in turn. There was
no hurry about his movements, no sign of anxiety about his face. He did
not even bother to observe the clock. Instead, he offered sherry to each
of the gentlemen present, put the decanter back upon the sideboard, and
motioned to his assistant to hasten to the kitchen for the next course.
It was ten minutes after the hour. In five minutes those bombs with
which the dastardly Carl hoped to wreck the vessel would explode. In
five short minutes----Hark! What was that? Joe turned slowly in his
chair. Andrew glanced across at the Major.

"Dick and Alec larking again," observed the Commander dryly. "A little
more shipboard discipline is what our Mr. Dicky Hamshaw requires. What a
noise the brats are making."

There was indeed quite an uproar in the gallery outside. The voices of
Hawkins, Hurst, and Larkin were heard in succession. And then the door
of the saloon was burst unceremoniously open, figures appeared outside,
and a moment later Carl Reitberg was thrust into the chamber, Hawkins
and Larkin gripping his shoulders, while Dick and Alec followed
immediately behind them.

"Caught him in the act, sir!" shouted Dick, excitedly, addressing
Andrew. "Watched him place two bombs in position along the gallery. Here
they are. At least we guess they're bombs, though they're wrapped in
paper."

That saloon had never before witnessed such a curious gathering, nor
such excitement if one describes the matter fully. Not that Joe and his
fellow diners betrayed great concern. Their stern faces merely showed
disgust, loathing for this Carl Reitberg, while the well-trained
Sergeant looked on with polite indifference, showing just a trace of
annoyance, as if he objected to the dinner being so unceremoniously
disturbed. But there coolness ceased altogether. Dick and Alec were
dishevelled, red-hot with excitement, trembling with the importance of
their discovery. Hawkins's broad face showed a righteous anger which was
on the point of boiling over, while Private Larkin's fierce face gave
one the idea that he was within an ace of exploding. In the centre,
pinioned by the arms, pale and wabbling, was the magnate, speechless
with fright, his pig-like eyes rolling with terror.

[Illustration: THE COLLAPSE OF CARL REITBERG

_Page 276_]

It was one of those unexpected situations when one would have felt
surprise if the dinner were not abandoned, the crew of the ship aroused,
and a huge commotion set going. But Andrew Provost had already given
abundant proof of his coolness. Joe, too, was not so easily frightened,
while a calm demeanour on the part of the Commander and the Major was to
be expected. But no one would quite have anticipated the line of action
which Andrew adopted.

"And so you have discovered this Mr. Reitberg, our guest aboard, in the
midst of an attempt to wreck the vessel!" he said softly. "Well, well,
you may be mistaken."

"Impossible, sir," cried Alec. "We watched him first. He's a ruffian."

"But--but still there may be some little error," Andrew asserted. "We
will give our guest the benefit of the doubt for the moment and
investigate the matter. Place a chair there for him, Sergeant."

"But--but these beastly things are set to go off in four minutes,"
shouted Dick suddenly. "Look, sir. I've stripped the paper from the
bombs. There's a clock attached to the outside of each. It's ticking,
and the hands are set at eight-fifteen. They'll explode then and blow
the place to pieces."

"Four minutes, you said. I make it but three," Joe exclaimed of a
sudden, taking the bombs. "That's too bad. Dick, you must give it up as
hopeless. You couldn't possibly get these bombs away to a safe distance
in that short space of time. Eh, Major?"

"Hopeless. Let 'em cut and run, Dick and Alec and the others. I'm too
old to make the attempt. Put the bombs on the table."

Was everyone mad? Had these diners gone completely crazy? Dick looked
round in bewilderment, and went scarlet with anger. For the Major was
actually sipping his sherry, while Joe was thrusting a morsel of fish
into his mouth. As for the Sergeant, he placed a chair for the magnate
between Joe and Andrew, plumped that perspiring and shaking individual
into it, and having taken the two bombs from Dick put them on the table
within a foot of Carl Reitberg. We make no excuse for Hawkins and his
friend. They turned at Andrew's nod and bolted.

"Not for me, thanks," said Dick desperately. "Sherry, please, Sergeant."

"Ditto," gasped Alec, seating himself.

"In fact, we swim or sink together. Or shall we say, we stand shoulder
to shoulder awaiting the last great flight of this giant vessel?"

There was a quizzing tone in the Major's voice, and he was actually
winking. Winking! And so was the Sergeant.

"Sherry, sir. Yes, sir," he observed, in his ordinary, matter-of-fact
tones, placing a glass before our two young heroes. "And don't you
expect nothing," he whispered. "Them things is O.K. You'll yet eat a
dinner."

Meanwhile things were hardly going comfortably for Mr. Reitberg. The
rascal sat far back in his chair, tilting it backward, his two hands
gripping the table, and his bulging eyes fixed on the hands of the two
clocks attached to his infernal machines. He was livid with fear. A
cold, clammy perspiration covered his forehead. His fat cheeks shook and
wobbled in an ugly manner, and what little hair he had positively
bristled. His breath came in choking grunts, wheezing from his lungs,
while his lips were dry and parted.

"One minute more; only one minute," he gasped at last, staring at the
clock faces. "Only one minute."

"Pardon--rather more. Perhaps two or three seconds," observed the Major
icily. "Then, Mr. Reitberg----"

"Take me away. Let me leave the place. Throw those bombs out of the
window--I say, throw them away. They'll explode; they'll kill me.
They'll tear me to pieces."

The wretch foamed at the mouth, his attention concentrated all the while
on those two clock faces. His eyes were bloodshot now, his nails digging
like talons into the table.

"Then they are really bombs? You actually meant to wreck the vessel?"
asked Andrew.

But the rascal cowering in a frenzy of terror at the table hardly seemed
to hear his words, much less to heed them. He was bending lower now,
ducking his head, and yet looking upward from beneath his brows at the
hands on those two dials. They were near the quarter. In ten seconds
they would reach the point at which he had set the trigger. And then----

"Take me away!" he screamed, foaming at the mouth, and looking hideous
in his terror. "Kill me now. Shoot me. Don't let me be blown to pieces
by these bombs. Ah! I will kill myself."

He made a desperate effort to seize a knife from the table, and no doubt
would have done himself some severe injury. But the Commander seized his
arm.

"No," he said sternly. "This is your trial, a trial of your own making.
Learn now what it is to set bombs to slaughter other people. Endure to
the full the torment that others were to suffer."

The strain was too great for the magnate. A gurgling cry escaped him,
and a moment later he was stretched full length on the carpet.

"Call in the others," commanded Joe curtly. "Let us go on with our
dinner. And by the way, Sergeant, tell Mr. Dick and his friend that
there's no danger."

"No danger!" shouted the midshipman. "None! Why, I've been hanging on to
my chair hard expecting to be blown to pieces."

"Like Mr. Reitberg, only different," smiled Andrew. "Lads, you've shown
splendid pluck. Now, let's eat. As for the bombs, they happen to be
empty."




CHAPTER XVI

Record High Flying


It required quite an amount of explanation and apology to mollify the
hot-headed and indignant Dicky Hamshaw and his friend Alec when they
learned how all their energy, all their suspense and anxiety for the
great airship and the safety of their friends had been unnecessary and
thrown away.

"And--and you mean to tell us that the bombs are empty?" demanded the
former, with some curtness, as soon as the fainting form of the rascal,
Carl Reitberg, had been borne to his cabin. "I--this is no laughing
matter."

"Precisely," answered the Major, with a little smile. "And, Dick, I'm
not surprised at your anger. You see, we knew that those bombs had been
rendered harmless."

"Then, sir, why not tell Alec and myself?"

The midshipman was almost boiling. But still, he had never been anything
else but a good officer, and discipline was discipline. "Beg pardon,
sir," he said. "But it makes a chap rather ratty. Here have I been
hanging on to this chair, trying to keep cool and look it, when every
instant I expected to be blown to atoms. I thought you must all be mad
to go on so coolly with your dinners."

"While I'm in a horrible perspiration," confessed Alec, mopping his
brow. Then he seemed to see some fun in the matter, and grinned at his
comrade.

"All the same it was a good lesson for Mr. Reitberg," he cried. "Odious
toad that he is. He didn't know that the bombs were empty, now, did he?
He didn't look like it. That's why he funked. That's why he went under."

Mr. Andrew rose from his chair, and took each of the lads in turn by the
hand.

"We owe you many apologies," he said earnestly. "I can't forgive myself
for what has happened. But there are excuses. I did not know, Joe was
kept in ignorance, even the Major and the Commander knew nothing of this
matter till the very beginning of dinner. Then Sergeant Evans told us.
We owe our safety to him, to his watchfulness--though I know you also
have watched--to his cleverness, and to the experience he had in South
Africa. There! I am sorry. But it was fine to see the manner in which
you two behaved."

"Magnificent!" declared the Major.

"I shall report it," cried the Commander, gripping Dick's hand. "A fine
example of the spirit which all naval men should show. Alec, shake
hands."

"Now, tell us the whole tale, Sergeant Evans," demanded Joe, while Dick
and Alec, now completely mollified, took their places at the table.
Indeed, dinner proceeded much as usual, but for the fact that the
Sergeant, while attending upon the diners, told them his tale crisply
and shortly.

"I knew him, this Mr. Carl Reitberg," he began in the politest tones. In
fact, you would not have imagined that he had any other but the highest
opinion of the individual to whom he referred. Certainly his tones
showed no trace of satire, of disgust, or even of anger.

"His name was different out in the Transvaal," he proceeded. "He was a
suspected person, and as such came under the notice of the police, that
is, the civil police. He was supposed to be an I.D.B., otherwise an
illicit diamond buyer. But he was more. We military police suspected him
of dealings with the Boers. We watched him, and he escaped, and left the
country. It was natural, then, that I should suspect him when I found
him here under another name. I watched him, gentlemen, watched him
through a peephole cut in the wall of his cabin, which is next the
pantry. He had a box with him, a suspicious box, filled with valuables
as he said. I investigated the contents of that box."

"But, pardon for the interruption, Sergeant. That box was sealed,"
remarked Mr. Andrew, with a lift of his white eyebrows.

"Yes, sir--sealed. Red sealing wax, impressed with a seal hanging to the
man's watch chain. I borrowed that seal one day. I opened the box,
investigated the contents, removed the explosives, leaving everything
else as it was, sealed the box again and returned it to its old
position. No one was the wiser. Even Mr. Reitberg was unsuspicious when
he opened the box this evening. He imagined he still had dangerous
bombs, whereas I knew that they had already served their purpose."

"Served their purpose? How?" demanded Joe quickly.

"You remember the Pathans, sir? Well, Mr. Reitberg's bombs stopped their
rush, and came in very handy."

The tale proved, if it had proved nothing else, that in Sergeant Evans
the airship possessed a trusty and astute man. But it also proved to the
hilt the rascality of Carl Reitberg.

"Of course," said Mr. Andrew, when the warm thanks of the gathering had
been given to the Sergeant, "of course, we take no action. The ruffian
is not worth powder and shot; his meanness will bring about its own
punishment. When he recovers we will let him go, thankful that we are
well quit of him."

It followed that late that night, he having then recovered
consciousness, a gharri conveyed the disconsolate Carl to the railway
station, where he took train for Bombay. But it must not be imagined
that the man took with him any feelings of gratitude to those who had so
handsomely dealt with him. No. They had made a fool of him. He realized
now that the bombs before which he had been forced to sit, and which he
had expected to shatter him to fragments in a few seconds, he realized
that they had been rendered harmless. All his fears and terrors, all his
squirming, the terrible exhibition he had made of himself were to no
purpose. He had been fooled. The very people he had imagined to be so
stupidly wanting in astuteness, who had failed to suspect him, had
defeated his dastardly attempt with surprising ease. It made the magnate
boil with rage and mortification. He fanned his heated brow as the train
sped onward, set his crooked teeth and swore beneath his breath.

"Ah!" he grunted. "Made a fool of me. Know now that I am not the
sportsman they imagined. Fancy themselves safe, and are sure of winning
that wager. We'll see. There is still time. There is still Adolf
Fruhmann."

Yes, there was still that unmitigated rascal, ready to attempt anything
if sufficiently well paid. He was the man to come now to Carl's rescue.
He was the one who must now attempt the wrecking of the airship. But
how?

"I'll wire to him to meet me at Suez," Carl decided before he reached
Bombay. "He'll be able to propose a scheme. Yes, there's time still. If
I have failed, Adolf will manage to succeed. We'll show the folks aboard
the airship who's best man in this matter."

Burning with anger at his defeat, and his vindictiveness increased
almost in proportion to the distance he was steadily placing between
himself and the great airship, Carl Reitberg boarded the steamer at
Bombay in no enviable frame of mind. Indeed, what with the heat and his
own stoutness he narrowly escaped an attack of apoplexy, and lay for
some days in his cabin, his head swathed in bandages wrung out of iced
water, a huge wind shute pouring the little fresh air there was into the
compartment, while an electric fan shot eddies at his perspiring person.
Indeed, to the average individual it was an uncomfortable season during
which to visit the neighbourhood of Bombay. To Carl Reitberg, the
pompous, fat, and rascally magnate swelling with indignation, hate, and
all uncharitableness, it was a positive nightmare.

In this uncomfortable condition, then, we can leave him to his own
devices, with the knowledge that, though he had failed once in his
dastardly effort to wreck Joe Gresson's invention, he had by no means
given up all hope of achieving success. For Joe and his friends, we can
say that they gave scarcely another thought to their late guest, who had
abused their kindness so disgracefully.

"It's a black page in the history of our trip," said Andrew, the morning
following. "We will turn it over and seal it down. Ugly things are
better as a rule when shut out of view. And now, Mr. Skipper?"

"Now, Joe?" cried the Commander. "We await orders. Do we remain here
cooking in the neighbourhood of Delhi? Or do we seek a more balmy clime,
where a man may sleep peacefully in his cabin, and must not necessarily
spend the baking night restlessly pacing the open deck above dressed
only in his pyjamas?"

"Yes--what next?" demanded Dick, his mouth still busy with the breakfast
he was devouring. But what recked Dicky of heat? Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw
carried an appetite wherever he went, and his breakfast this morning
showed that heat hardly affected him. He was not even limp, whereas the
Major, hardened soldier that he was, and accustomed to India, was as
flabby as a wet rag.

"Which comes of modern invention," he laughed. "Send me to India in the
cold weather, and leave me in the plains when the heat comes. I'll not
turn a hair, for I've had time to become acclimatized. But set out from
London as we have done on this new-fangled machine--apologies, Joe and
Mr. Andrew--set out, I say, on this airship and plunge me suddenly from
the heights, where one needs a fur coat, to the plains about Delhi in
the hot weather, and I admit I become a limp, nerveless individual."

"While I for another shall be glad to move on," Joe admitted. "Well,
now; we take in stores here--they are coming aboard already--then,
following the plan agreed upon, we sail along over the all-red route.
Naturally, this trip is not a true tour of the world, for then we should
take a straight line, the shortest route possible. We are purposely
lengthening our journey, and should we successfully complete it, we
shall have flown many more miles than the twenty-five odd thousand which
circumvent the globe. So our course lies east, parallel almost to the
Himalaya mountains."

"Ah! A test of elevation, perhaps," suggested the Commander. "You could
cross the Himalayas."

"Why not?"

"At their highest point?"

"I have reason to believe so," said Joe, with the quiet assurance of
the inventor who has the utmost faith in the powers of the machine he
has constructed. "Why not?"

"Because--well, because Mount Everest happens to be the highest peak,"
replied the Commander dryly. "Let's see; what is its exact altitude?
Here, Dick, one of you youngsters, let us have the figure."

"Sorry, sir; can't. Forgotten--so long since I left school," answered
the imperturbable Dick. "Ask Alec, he's the latest kid to leave."

He accompanied his remarks with a grin in his friend's direction, which
became the broader as Alec shook his fist at him.

"Well, Alec? Dick's a dunce; he's like most middies," said the
Commander.

And for a wonder Alec was able to supply the information.

"Twenty-nine thousand and two feet high, sir," he told them. "Highest
mountain in the world. Cold as Christmas up at the top. Haven't been
there myself, you know, but I'm guessing."

"In fact, rather more uncomfortable there than down here," laughed the
Major. "Well, Joe, it's a stumper?"

"I cannot say. To cross above the highest peak we must ascend some five
miles. That is a tremendous height; it will need special preparation."

But one could see that Joe was bitten with the idea of accomplishing
that which no other person or machine had ever achieved before. He went
to the engine-room forthwith, and for the next two hours closely
inspected the gasometer and carburettor which supplied his engines. Then
he took the temperature of the crude paraffin which, unlike other
internal-combustion motors, not only formed the explosive charge, and
conveyed power through those long, sinuous, cold-drawn steel pipes to
the distant hydraulic motors, but also surrounded the cylinders, acting
as an effective cooling agent. If one had watched him one would have
seen the thoughtful Joe working out some pleasant little calculations,
calculations which would have given Dicky Hamshaw quite a headache. But
the result seemed to satisfy him, for he once more inspected his
engines, made a small adjustment, and then went off to the saloon.

"Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "we have loaded our stores. If all are
ready we will make for Mount Everest and there test the powers of this
vessel."

It was one of the many advantages of being aboard an airship. There was
no packing to be done, no cabs to call, no trains to be entered. Joe had
merely to return to the engine-room and start his motors, so that within
ten minutes the ship was off, followed by the cheers and shrill native
cries of thousands. For a while she hovered over the city of Delhi,
mounting and mounting steadily, till she was but a speck in the sky, a
speck almost invisible because of the material of which she was
constructed. It was an object lesson to many thousands also. For where
in all India, in all the world, was there a gun capable of reaching her,
of destroying the airship, of preventing her crew, had they so wished,
from dropping bombs upon the citizens of Delhi?

"In war, an invincible arm," declared the Major with conviction. "A
terrible arm, indeed, for here is a ship as secure, as handy, as
manageable as any steamer. Let us hope that the report we shall take to
War Office and Admiralty will not fall upon deaf ears. Or rather, let us
pray that the authorities will test the truth of our statements by
sending men aboard who are really qualified to form an opinion. Not
amateurs, more or less filled with a sense of their own importance, and
forgetful of that of others."

To those stepping the upper deck of the airship the view beneath was one
of the greatest magnificence, for the brilliance of the sun brought
objects beneath into unusual prominence. Then, too, owing to the
elevation at which the vessel now floated, the heat of the day was no
longer felt.

"Just like an English summer," Andrew murmured. "And the height, Joe?"

"Seven thousand feet or thereabouts; not a quarter the height to which
we shall have to climb before crossing Mount Everest. For the moment I
am satisfied. Now we will descend a little, for it will be cold when we
begin to travel through the air. To-morrow, at about this hour, we shall
have failed miserably or have added another honour to those already won
by this ship. Don't think me boastful. I speak of things as they are,
precisely as you have found them. I ask for nothing better than honest
tests. Here is one. I shall strive to win in this encounter."

"But one moment," said the Major. "Excuse my ignorance. Mount Everest is
twenty-nine thousand and two feet in height. Let us say that we must
ascend to the enormous height of thirty thousand feet. Will that, then,
prove a record? Is there a person who has before this date attained to
such an altitude?"

"Certainly," came the prompt answer. "In the past many balloons have
climbed to great heights, and I can instance a few such attempts.
Coxwell is said to have reached the enormous altitude of seven miles in
the year 1862. He lost the use of his hands, but contrived to open the
valve with the aid of his teeth. His companion, Mr. James Glaisher, was
then insensible. Then Dr. Berson and Dr. Suring ascended from Berlin in
1901 to the height of thirty-four thousand feet, contriving to maintain
their senses by inhaling oxygen. And lastly, there is the recorded
ascent of the _Albatross_, which, in 1909, set out from Turin, and
reached the stupendous height of thirty-eight thousand seven hundred and
fifteen feet.

"And what is the record of dirigibles?" asked the Commander eagerly. "We
must recollect that they are a different sort of craft, and do not
ascend by heaving ballast overboard--that is, as a general rule. This
ship, we know, is influenced by her vertical screws."

"And will contrive to climb with them almost unaided," answered Joe.
"But it may be that we shall attempt a record, in which case there is
ample ballast to be thrown overboard. As to the height to which
dirigibles have climbed, of that I am uncertain. But it is said that six
thousand feet is the record for a Zeppelin, and we will allow that the
Zeppelin is the last word in dirigibles."

"_Was_," Andrew corrected him quickly. "Was, Joe. The coming of this
vessel annihilates the Zeppelin."

There was an air of suppressed excitement about the crew on the
following afternoon, for the news of their coming attempt had leaked
out. Moreover, the airship had driven her way steadily onward during the
night, and all through the morning she had been steering a course
parallel to the gaunt Himalayas, within easy distance of the snow
glistening on the numerous peaks of this giant range, and within sight
already of Mount Everest. The lofty peak raised its white head some
fifty miles to their left, its snow slopes shimmering in the sun's rays.
Its broad base also could be detected, merging imperceptibly with the
mass of the range. But the centre portion was invisible, clad in a
garment of white cloud, which seemed to warn all and sundry to leave
that peak alone, and make no rash attempt upon it. But Joe Gresson was
totally unaffected. He turned the ship's head directly for the mountain
and waited at the tiller till those fifty miles were accomplished, till
the airship was within a short mile of the mountain, looking a mere dot
when compared with the mighty mass of rock thrusting upward.

"At this moment we begin our attempt," he told his friends. "Kindly
observe our height. We are resting precisely seven thousand feet above
sea-level. Now, I will start the elevating motors. When we are
twenty-nine thousand feet up we will steer for the top of the peak.
After that, if all are agreeable, we will ascend once more. I have a
mind to accomplish a world's record. But we must take precautions. Let
us don all the clothing we can find, and shut all windows and openings.
Sergeant Evans has already taken out of store our cylinders of oxygen.
You will find a mouthpiece attached to each one, and my advice is that
you don them when we have reached a height of twenty thousand feet."

For a while there were bustling feet to be heard along the galleries of
the airship. Men hastened to and fro carrying oxygen cylinders, while
others made a round of the vessel to close all apertures. Then Joe set
the aerial screws in motion, and, watching closely, Dick was able to
detect the fact that the ship was rising swiftly. Indeed, before many
minutes had passed they had plunged into the cold, white cloud
surrounding the central part of the mountain. He strode off to the
engine-room, to find Joe watching the barometer.

"Nineteen thousand feet," he read off. "Ah, we are mounting quickly!
Twenty thousand feet. Now we throw our cooling fan out of gear, and make
ready to cover over a portion of our radiator. In that way we shall be
able to keep up the temperature of our motor and of its fuel supply. Now
for the oxygen."

They were still mounting, mounting quickly too. Dick felt a queer
sensation overcoming him. He was gasping, endeavouring to imbibe more
air, eager for a greater supply of oxygen.

"Put on your mouthpiece and turn on the tap of the cylinder," Joe
ordered. "You're grunting, positively grunting. And look at yourself in
that mirror."

There was a tiny square which the engineer had secured to the side of
the engine-room, and looking in it, Dick was positively startled to
discover that his usually vivid and fresh complexion had gone. He was a
pale, dirty-blue colour.

"Ugh! Hideous!" he grinned. "Now, let's try oxygen."

It had an almost immediate effect, as was to be expected, for within ten
minutes he had regained his normal colour. Meanwhile, the cold had
become extreme. Even there, in the heated engine-room, one felt it,
while Joe anxiously placed his hand on the cylinder tops.

"Throwing the cooling fan out of gear will do it," he said, in tones of
satisfaction. "I've still something in hand. Covering the radiator and
so protecting it from cold will do the trick nicely."

"Twenty-seven thousand feet. Twenty-eight," he read out. "Are all
feeling strong and well?"

They were gathered about the engine-room, some crowding in that chamber
itself, some at the top of the ladder leading from it, grouped in the
gallery of the airship. And a queer collection they were, muffled to the
eyes, more than one already shivering with cold, for it must be
recollected that this feat of clambering upward demanded no personal
efforts from crew or passengers. Had they been on the snow-clad slopes
of Mount Everest, amidst its glaciers and its crevasses, the path upward
would have been one continual struggle, a struggle made all the more
difficult by the increasing thinness of the air. Indeed this thinness of
the air is one of the chief difficulties to be encountered by those who
would ascend to huge heights above sea-level. Mountain sickness, the
giddiness and nausea which attack people at great elevations, must also
be overcome, though here, aboard the giant airship, not one of the
members aboard felt so much as lightness of the head. It was the cold
which troubled them. Why, Private Larkin's nose was positively blue! It
peeped out from above a huge muffler which he had wound round his neck.

"I never!" Hurst remarked, grinning at him, and then taking another
breath of oxygen. "You ain't handsome, not 'arf."

"'Ere," grunted Larkin, "none of yer lip! I'm 'avin'----"

But at that moment the need for more oxygen assailed him, and he buried
his mouth in the apparatus affixed to each cylinder. Indeed, but for
those cylinders this ascent would have been practically impossible. As
it was, the ship climbed steadily, remorselessly upward. They were above
the thick bank of wet cloud now. Of a sudden the cold became intense,
while Dick found himself shielding his eyes from the glare. For the
sun's rays were reflected from the virgin snow slopes with a brilliance
he had never before experienced.

"Twenty-nine thousand feet. The summit of Mount Everest," called Joe,
fingering the tops of his cylinders and the cooling surface of his
radiator somewhat anxiously. "We will attempt a landing, and then we
will ascend once more."

The big engine purred a little louder. Had an expert been there he would
not have been able to detect a single alarming sound from the mechanism
of the airship. For there was, in fact, little to go wrong.

"Freezing up does not trouble me," Joe had explained as they were
ascending, "for my radiator is cooled by paraffin, and you may expose
that liquid to extremes of cold with little effect. Even if there were
danger of its freezing, the explosions of the engine cause heat, which
is absorbed by the paraffin, and I have taken steps, by throwing out of
gear the cooling fan, to retain that heat. As for the rest, the same
fluid passing through those lines of steel tubes to the motors overhead
is constantly in action. The pressure applied to it tends to add to its
temperature, so that there again we can defy the cold."

The hum of the propeller told that the ship was in motion, for hitherto
she had merely been ascending. Now the elevator screws were hardly
rotating, while Dick and his friends could tell that they were advancing
by the fact that the slopes of the mountain grew steadily nearer and
nearer. The ship circled about the highest peak. She seemed to be
looking for a landing-place. She even rested for a moment directly above
the topmost pinnacle. And then Joe dropped her gently upon a smooth,
level slope just beneath the summit.

"All explorers plant flags to show what they have done," he cried,
laughing at those gathered about him. "We will do the same. Come, half a
dozen of us will be sufficient."

They tore the door of the gallery open, for it was frozen fast, and
struggled into the open, Joe and the Commander, with the Major, and
Dick, and Alec, in close attendance. Bearing their oxygen cylinders
strapped to their shoulders they trudged across the hard frozen snow,
and within a few minutes had gained the summit. There they secured the
staff of their Union Jack, pegged and roped it down, and promptly
retraced their steps.

"And now for a record," cried Joe. "I advise all of you to don gloves if
you have them and to keep moving about. I mean to rush the rest of the
distance."

He covered more than half of his radiator, set the elevating motors
buzzing, and then glanced anxiously at his barometer. They were rising,
but very slowly. It seemed to take an endless age to get away from the
peak they had just visited. The tiny Union Jack, looking forlorn amid
the snow slopes, appeared as if it would keep them company for ever.

"Turn that lever there," Joe commanded, pointing to one close to Dick's
hand, for the midshipman was again in the engine-room. "If the outlet of
my tank is frozen we shall have to halt for a while and apply heat. Ah,
that's fortunate! Listen."

Above the gentle hum of the engine Dick could hear a gurgling, splashing
sound, and looking downward discovered that a spray of water was falling
from the airship, a spray which was caught by the breeze, whirled to one
side, and transformed instantly into thin flakes of ice which went
swimming through space to find a resting-place on the slopes of the
mountain.

"Throwing out ballast," Joe explained. "Now we're moving."

The ship was clambering upward at a rapid pace, thanks to the weight
rapidly streaming from her tanks. Joe watched his barometer now with
smiling eyes.

"Thirty thousand feet," he stated solemnly. "Thirty-five thousand feet,
gentlemen. Almost a world's record. But five more feet and I shall be
satisfied."

Had it not been for the mouthpieces which all were now compelled to keep
constantly in use the crew would have cheered him. As it was they
tramped the gallery, swinging their arms, beating their fingers, and
muffling their faces in the first article of clothing upon which they
could come. The cold was too intense for words, in spite of the heating
arrangements aboard the ship. Indeed, but for active movement many of
the crew would not have been able to bear it. And steadily,
relentlessly, the ship ascended, while Dick, at Joe's bidding, emptied
first one and then the remaining tanks aboard the vessel. It was with a
shout of triumph that Joe announced that they had ascended to forty
thousand feet.

"Kindly observe the barometer," he called. "Kindly bear evidence to the
fact that we have gained this record."

Then began the descent. Joe arrested the elevating motors, and at once
the ship began to fall. Not rapidly, as one might have expected, but
slowly, imperceptibly, so smoothly that but for the barometer none would
have known that she was moving. And now, as they reached the level of
thirty thousand feet, and that tiny Union Jack came into view once more,
but a stone's throw to their right, the mercury ceased to move. In spite
of accelerating his motors Joe could no longer force the ship to
descend.

"Dropped all the weight out of her," he said cheerfully. "Must now let
gas escape. That's merely a question of operating the escape valves.
See, they're all linked up to this lever."

He leaned over the engine, gripped a long handle and pulled upon it. It
refused to move. It was firmly jammed, or rather, the linked mechanism
beyond it was firmly frozen.

"Annoying," he exclaimed, though Dick could have sworn that an anxious
expression crossed his face. "Try again."

He made several more attempts, but without success. Dick helped him
without avail. Even the lusty Hawkins and Hurst together could produce
no effect, while the screws now thrashing the thin air in an endeavour
to force the ship downward made not the smallest difference to the
height of the mercury. And meanwhile the cold was even more intense. In
spite of the oxygen cylinders men were gasping. Indeed, all of a sudden,
when at the summit of their success the crew of the airship found
themselves face to face with disaster. They had climbed to this great
height. They could not descend. Death from cold and exhaustion
threatened them. Yes, death. For already Larkin lay inert in the
gallery, blue from intense cold, his mouthpiece strapped to his face.
Mr. Andrew clutched at the doorpost, looking as if on the verge of
unconsciousness, while both the Major and the Commander had the
appearance of men more than half frozen. It looked indeed as if here, at
this enormous altitude, within stone's throw of the summit of Mount
Everest, the voyage of the huge airship would be ended, and with it the
lives of all aboard.




CHAPTER XVII

A Desperate Situation


A terrible five minutes followed the discovery that Joe Gresson had
made, a period short enough as a general rule, but seeming almost
unending under the tragic circumstances. For the great airship lay
helpless in the air, turning slowly as if on a pivot, and dangling a
thousand feet above that tiny Union Jack which marked the summit of
Mount Everest. Then a breeze caught her and wafted her to one side, so
that Dick, looking desperately from the window of the engine-room, could
gaze down into India. But a swirling current from the opposite direction
gripped her a moment later, swayed the ship which was rocking like a
vessel at sea, drove her round and launched her northward, till the
opposite slopes of the Himalayas came into view.

"Tibet--the road to Lhasa, the forbidden city," Dick told himself. "And
that shining streak away over there must be the Brahmaputra. What's to
be done? This is a nasty sort of hole in which to find ourselves. And I
don't like the look of some of our friends. Larkin is as blue as blue,
while Mr. Andrew don't appear much better. Where's Alec?"

That young gentleman was stretched full length at the foot of the ladder
leading from the engine-room, and at once Dick stepped toward him and
secured the mouthpiece of his oxygen apparatus to his face.

"Can't do more," he thought. "Wish I could. George! Joe don't seem too
bright. He's as green as grass, and, 'pon my word, he's falling."

He was just in time to catch the leader of this attempt upon a world's
record and snatch him from the engines. Catching him in his arms he sat
him down with his back against the wall of the engine-room. Then, quite
by the merest chance, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in that
same square piece of looking-glass.

"My hat! Dusky as a nigger! But never felt better in my life. Oxygen
seems to agree with me, but not with my lovely complexion. Now, what the
blazes is a fellow to do? This is a corker."

It was worse than that, for not only was the ship in danger of
destruction, but without a doubt were her position at that altitude
maintained, every soul aboard would be asphyxiated or frozen to death.
Dick cast his eye at the barometer.

"Twenty-nine thousand feet. Dead level with the summit of the mountain,"
he reflected. "And ain't she rolling, just?"

That, too, was an obvious fact; for, relieved of the weight of the water
which had filled her tanks, and which, like the engines, were disposed
at the very lowest point possible, the ship now appeared to be a trifle
top-heavy. In any case, she careened badly, swaying from side to side,
till her decks presented steep slopes down which the figures of helpless
members of her crew slithered. Yes, it was an ugly and distressing
sight, for that loss of weight, and the fact that her elevating screws
would not grip the air, had made the ship unstable in a fore-and-aft
direction. To Dick's horror she began a new series of movements. The
gust outside freshened of a sudden, just as gales do spring up at the
height at which they floated, and at once the giant machine was swung
round as if she were a top. Then she rolled heavily, till it was only by
clutching at the rails about the motors that he escaped being thrown
into them. Later she suddenly careened in the opposite direction, and
hoisting her stern on high, projected her crew down the whole length of
the gallery so that they were brought up against a distant bulkhead. Nor
was that the last of her disconcerting gyrations. The breeze freshened
again, till within a minute a whirlwind was singing and screaming
outside. It caught the framework of the ship as if she were a leaf, and
now that she was lying out of the horizontal, and Joe's curious design
was therefore almost inoperable, it swung her to one side and sent her
heading madly for the snow and rock-strewn summit of the mountain. Dick
held his small remaining breath as the vessel bore down upon that rocky
peak, and shivered as she missed it by a narrow margin.

"A miss is as good as a mile, sir," someone shouted in his ear, as if
the person were a mile away. But Dick was deaf. His ears were singing
and roaring, and when he let go his hold of the engine rails he was
dreadfully giddy. But, in spite of his deafness, he was able to note two
other things. The engine had stopped completely, no doubt because of the
position of the ship, the fuel supply having been entirely cut off. Then
Hawkins was beside him, not the Hawkins of old, with a clean-shaven face
tanned to mahogany by exposure, but a sailor whose skin was of leaden
hue, whose eyes were sunken and had lost their sparkle, whose shoulders
stooped as if he found it hard to keep upright In other respects it was
the old Hawkins.

"Orders, sir!" he bawled, whipping his mouthpiece aside for the moment.
"This here's a fine old mess!"

"Must get those gas valves open and the engines started again. Here,"
Dick gasped in answer. "Make this cylinder fast to my shoulders. It's
too loose for my liking. There's a bit of rope yonder. That'll do it.
Quick!"

He had no breath for more; but Hawkins seemed to see his meaning in an
instant, and soon had the cylinder of oxygen more secure on Dick's back.
Then, with a dexterity which even this critical situation could not mar,
he secured his own cylinder in similar manner. Dick gripped a hammer.
Hawkins took a huge spanner.

"Now," said our hero. "We must get to the upper deck. Then start in the
centre, each going in opposite directions. Force open every other
valve. Even if you have to smash them to pieces you must contrive to
open them. Come--no time to be lost."

His orders were given in short gasping spurts. But Hawkins understood
and nodded. Then they clambered over the bodies of their comrades, won
their way up the engine ladder, and raced as fast as they could along
the gallery. Not that the pace was great, for each step seemed to be an
effort. They gained the liftway, and stared upward.

"No motor working. Must climb," Dick managed to gasp. "Up we go."

He felt as if his heart would burst long before he gained the upper
deck. That organ was indeed thudding heavily against his ribs, while the
veins in his forehead, on his hands and face, were distended and purple.
But there was pluck and determination to drive Mr. Dicky Hamshaw onward,
while Hawkins was not the man to be beaten by an officer or to leave one
in the lurch. And so, after a struggle which cost them dear, they won
their way to the summit of that tiresome and never-ending ladder. A
minute later, almost too fatigued to deliver a blow, they attacked the
valves affixed to each of the many gas chambers, beginning with those at
the centre.

"Frozen hard as rocks. Deck covered with frost and ice. The weight'll be
an advantage. But how are we to get these valves open?"

It was difficult enough under that white covering to detect their
presence, though, fortunately for all, both Dick and Hawkins had more
than once examined the valves. Now they set to work with hammer and
spanner, breaking away the coating of ice, and smashing the firm joint
which the intense cold had formed round each seating. It was with a
shrill, half-stifled cry of delight that Dick contrived to free the
first of the valves.

"Wide open. Can smell the gas coming out," he told himself. "That'll fix
her. A few more will do the trick. Wish to goodness she'd remain level."

Something shot past him at terrible speed, and brought up hard against
the rail at the edge of the deck. It was Hawkins, pitched from his feet
by a sudden lurch of the vessel, and saved from a dreadful dive into
space by the rail against which he had cannoned. A second later his
unconscious figure came hurtling back, and but for the grip Dick managed
to fasten on him he would have shot over the side of the vessel in the
opposite direction.

"Must go on alone, that's all," Dick told himself stubbornly. "Big job,
but got to be done. I'll place Hawkins in the entrance to the liftway."

He dragged the unconscious figure after him, helped not a little by a
sudden tilting of the vessel. Then, stowing him in a corner from which
he hoped he would not be dislodged, he raced along the deck again,
himself took a header as the deck sloped steeply, caught a stanchion to
which one of the wireless supports was attached, and a moment later was
beating frantically at a second valve. In ten busy minutes, in fact, he
contrived to release no fewer than five, and had the satisfaction of
smelling the gas which at once poured out of them. More than that, a
glance at the summit of the mountain showed him that the ship had fallen
already. She was resting just a trifle above that wet, cold blanket
which enveloped the central part.

"And a chap feels less blown than before," thought Dick. "That's
satisfactory. Now for the engines. Must get 'em going and way on the
ship, for this gale is playing the dickens with her."

It was a way of expressing his meaning, and indeed, even now that he had
accomplished his purpose so bravely, his work was likely enough to be
defeated by outside influences. For the whirlwind had not abated, and
three times while Dick worked had the ship been swept past the slopes of
Mount Everest, at such speed that, had she struck, she would have
crumpled up like a concertina. Now she was caught again, spun round like
a top, sent twirling from the mountain, only to be driven back again
till her bows actually collided with one of the slopes. But it was only
a glancing blow, and the snow happened to be both soft and deep.
Shivering, therefore, at the shock, she shook herself free, and shot off
into the open.

As for Dick, he raced to the deck below, his respiration already
decidedly easier. Stepping over the still unconscious figures of his
comrades, he gained the engine-room and tackled the task of starting the
engines.

"Must get way on her somehow," he told himself. "Let's see--engines
stopped probably because of her pitching. You couldn't expect fuel to
reach the carburettor when she was standing on her head. Wait a bit,
I'll cure all that if once I can get those elevating screws going. How's
that? Joe always turns that tap to make sure his fuel's flowing. There's
paraffin there right enough. Now, will she start?"

He switched on the current from the starting batteries, setting the
electric starting motor in action, and then moved the clutch lever,
which threw this motor into engagement with the flywheel of the engine.
Nothing resulted. Not a cylinder fired. There was not so much as the
suspicion of an explosion. One might have expected Dicky Hamshaw to be
flabbergasted and beaten by such a happening, and as a matter of fact he
leaned against the engine rail and gazed hopelessly at the apparatus
before him. Then he had a brilliant inspiration. They didn't often come
his way, we confess. He was far too harum-scarum for flights of fancy or
for patient investigation. But in his heart of hearts Dicky was quite
the mechanic. As we have intimated, he hoped one of these days to be
selected for submarine service, or for the naval flying school.
Therefore it happened that facts and peculiarities about the mechanism
of this huge airship had not escaped his notice. Indeed, they had
attracted his attention and positively fascinated him. It happened,
consequently, that he was well acquainted with the carburation.

"Got it!" he cried. "It ain't a case of a simple carburettor. In this
case the fuel enters the carburettor, and to start the engines if cold,
or when they've been rested for long, one has to fill the gasometer
with gas. That's the ticket! I've seen Joe and the engineer making
preparations. We just operate this geared fan, and force air through the
carburettor. There it goes, and the gasometer's rising. I'll give it a
little more and then try her. Afterwards the running engine
automatically pumps air. Now. How's that for done it?"

He switched the current in again, and moved over the clutch lever of the
starter. The engine spun round immediately, spluttered in one or more
cylinders, backfired once, thereby throwing the starter out of action;
and then, when Dick again pushed his lever over relentlessly, the engine
fired, and went off at a speed that made the whole engine-room tremble.

Dick shouted. Or rather, he tried to shout, the mouthpiece and his own
want of breath preventing much noise coming from him. His eyes sparkled.
He actually danced, and then became very solemn. For after all the fate
of his comrades and of this fine vessel still rested entirely in his two
hands. Yes, entirely, for a glance along the gallery told him that not
one of his friends was yet conscious.

"Set her going then. Wait--what's the elevation? Jingo--we've come down
to twenty-two thousand feet. That's something; wish we weren't in this
cloud though. It makes a fellow wonder which way he ought to steer. Ah,
there go the elevator fans!"

He could hear them whirring, and looked up at the barometer. The ship
was rising, and with a gesture of disgust he realized that he had set
the elevators working in the wrong direction. Instantly he reversed
them, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing that the vessel was
descending. Then he started up the ship's propeller, and soon had her
moving, but very cautiously; for the damp, white cloud hid everything.
Indeed, he was within an ace of wrecking the vessel, and, but for a
quick twist of his wrist and a sudden acceleration of his motor, he
would have driven the airship against a rocky headland standing out from
the mountain.

"A miss is as good as a mile," he grinned. "Oh, shan't I be jolly glad
to get away from this Mount Everest? Not much!--not 'alf, as Hawkins
would say. Anyway, that peep gave me the right direction. Now, I'll take
her along at speed, and get clear out into the open."

"Eighteen thousand feet--what's happened?" the question came in weak
tones from Joe Gresson. Dick nodded cheerfully at him. He had discarded
his oxygen mouthpiece, though the cylinder was still slung to his back.

"You sit still," he shouted. "We're falling, and mighty quick now, I
fancy. Stay there till you're feeling yourself, and then come and advise
me. We're over on the Tibet side of the Himalayas, and I'm looking out
for a landing."

One by one, as the ship descended, the unconscious crew regained their
senses, and for the most part looked about them in the most bewildered
manner. For they were piled indiscriminately about the gallery, crew
and passengers mixed together inextricably. Nor had they entirely
escaped damage, as might well be expected. Some were severely bruised by
the manner in which the sloping deck had caused them to slide, while
Larkin was quite angry. He was fully conscious, and had just dragged
himself from beneath the somewhat ponderous frame of the grinning Hurst.
His nose was bleeding, as was the case with many of them; but that was
not the cause of his agitation. One eye was closed, and the cheek
beneath beautifully swollen.

"Of all the mean tricks," he was growling, "of all the mean, dirty games
to play on a fellow when he's fallen, this is it. What do yer mean,
young feller?"

But Hurst still grinned placidly at him. He was, to speak the truth,
barely more than semi-conscious. A delicious feeling of fatigue assailed
him, and had he had his own way he would have lain there in the passage
and fallen into a sound slumber. That is, as soon as he had finished
with Private Larkin. He was sleepily admiring that hero at this precise
moment. He didn't exactly know how it was that he and the noble Larkin
had become so mixed up together. Perhaps they had been for a spree
ashore, and here was the consequence. But this his addled senses could
take in, and it afforded him huge amusement--Private Larkin's none too
handsome face was swollen to the proportions of a pumpkin, and the
distension beneath that eye was as green as possible. There remained but
one orb then, a staring orb, which had fastened itself indignantly,
even threateningly, upon the sailor, moreover Hurst could tell that it
was the one that habitually squinted. What wonder that he could not take
the angry Larkin seriously?

"If you don't look handsome, not 'arf," he interjected. "Jest you get
movin' on yer two flat feet and take a squint at yer phiz in that there
mirror. You'll see a sight there that'll scare yer. No, no! I ain't
asking you to look away in the corner. The mirror's there, above yer
ugly head, and lor, you just take care that you don't go right off and
crack it."

The situation was becoming a little strained before the Major pulled
himself together, helped the Commander to his feet, and separated the
two who had been speaking. Then they went to Mr. Andrew, whom they found
soundly asleep, breathing as gently as any child, and undoubtedly
unharmed by his late experience. Joe, too, was on his feet now, while
Hawkins had put in an appearance.

"I'm owin' one more to Mr. Dicky," he told his chums, as they clustered
in the gallery and eagerly discussed this late happening. "I just did
the most almighty skid you could dream of. I can remember the ship
rolling and sending me quick right across to the railing. Then I slid
back again, and I can feel now the grip that Mr. Dicky got of my collar.
After that there was darkness, till of a sudden my eyes opened. Bless
you, lads, that there Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw has saved the whole
sitivation; by hisself he's done it. And if it hadn't ha' been for him,
and his pluck, and what not, there wouldn't be a airship now, no, nor
any of us covies. Larkin, you ain't called for to speak. I know what you
was thinkin' of saying. That Mr. Alec'd have been as good. I agrees, so
the wind's taken completely out of your sails, and there ain't no call
for an argument. But though he'd have had the pluck, he didn't have the
senses. It takes a hard chap to stand what we've been through.
Understand me, lad; it takes a sailor--now, just you stop jawin'."

It was merely a passing pleasantry between the two services, and the
pugnacious Larkin perforce closed his lips and sulked for a moment. But
it was only for a moment; for within a little while the crew were
gathered in their own quarters partaking of their evening meal, and so
preparing themselves for the hard work now expected of them. In the
saloon Mr. Andrew and his friends gathered about the table, while
Sergeant Evans waited upon them as if nothing out of the ordinary had
happened, and as if it were a mere uninteresting item in the day's
performance that he himself, but two hours earlier, had been stretched
senseless in his own pantry, his face a dusky blue, his nose and ears
bleeding, and his pulse beating at a pace which would have alarmed the
most hopeful of practitioners.

But if he said nothing, Andrew and Joe and their guests were full of
praise of Dicky Hamshaw.

"'Pon my word, I'm proud of him as a brother officer," cried the
Commander cordially. "Tell us all about it, Dick."

The bashful midshipman recounted what had happened, and how he had
overcome the many difficulties which had, one after another, faced him.

"It looked like being all up at one time, sir," he said. "The ship was
turning on her nose, making it difficult to get about and reach the
valves. I'm afraid we've done a heap of damage. You see, one hadn't time
to waste, nor breathe either. And so I laid in at the heads of the
valves with my hammer, careless, so long as I could get them to open."

"And rightly so," said Joe warmly. "As to damage, it will be trifling,
and of no consequence; for we carry aboard spare valves and seatings,
and they can be fitted in a few hours. That reminds me to speak of our
movements. We are now on the Tibetan side of the Himalayas, resting a
couple of hundred yards above the ground, and in a totally uninhabited
part. It will be necessary to refit, to take in water, and to set our
gas-producer plant going. Now, why not a trip to Lhasa in the meanwhile?
A trip to the forbidden city, there to call upon the Chinese Governor?
It would be interesting and instructive both to the Llama priests and to
ourselves, and it will be something to have accomplished."

Such a journey was a mere nothing to the aeroplane carried upon the
broad deck of the airship, and as Joe required only a few of his staff
to effect repairs and restock the tanks, quite a large party left the
ship on the following morning. Nor is there much of startling moment to
record as to their doings. For the city of Lhasa to-day is inhabited by
beings holding different views from those living there but a few years
ago. Then the place was sacred, travellers were forbidden to enter,
while the very effort of reaching the city was more than enough to
dissuade the average person from making the attempt. Those upland plains
about the city are, in fact, a wilderness of inhospitality in winter
weather, while the milder months are all too short for an expedition
which entails going afoot, and demands strenuous exertions from the very
beginning. But a welcome now awaits the stranger. The Llamas seek for
outside guidance, and are no longer content with an existence unbroken
by the smallest distraction. The European who cares to undertake that
journey may expect some kindness, while Tibet to-day has sent her sons
to Europe, there to gather something of Western learning and customs. It
followed, therefore, that Dick and Alec had a merry and entertaining
visit to record, and enjoyed the aeroplane trip immensely. Then they
rejoined the airship, now complete and ready, and that same evening the
vessel once more crossed the Himalayas and steered a course for Burma.

"Where we take in oil for our engines," said Joe. "Later, we will follow
the red route down the length of Burma till we reach the Malay
Peninsula. Afterwards there is Borneo to be visited, and then New Guinea
and Australasia."

The delights of such a course need no elaborate description, and without
a doubt they were put in the shade by constant admiration for the ship's
behaviour. For it was not always fair weather, and that gale of wind
about the summit of the mountain they had so recently left was as
nothing to a storm experienced off Sumatra. Then, indeed, the true
working of Joe Gresson's design was experienced and appreciated.

"I could not have believed it," the Commander shouted in the Major's ear
as they stood on the upper deck clutching the railings. "A Zeppelin now
in a gale such as this is would be torn to pieces."

"Smashed; her sides driven in without a doubt. Then she could never face
a storm of this fierceness. She would be driven miles out of her course,
if she were not wrecked instantly."

"While we merely head up to the gale and lay to, hardly even rolling."

Thanks to the water ballast which she had again taken aboard, the
airship was wonderfully steady, while her capacity to withstand a gale
was proved to the utmost. Even when turned broadside on to the wind the
ship maintained her position, the sweeping aerial currents being cut
asunder by those lateral keels, and passing harmlessly above and beneath
her. But then she was possessed of those cross air-shafts in which
powerful screws worked, a feature absent entirely from the Zeppelin.

It was a week later when the passengers on the deck above sighted the
huge island of New Guinea, that inhospitable region, a great part of
which is still unknown to white men, where jungles and swamps are
inhabited by the fiercest of cannibals. And here it was that Dick and
his friends came in for another adventure.




CHAPTER XVIII

Off to New Guinea


A purple sea from which the sun's rays flashed upward with all the
iridescent colours of the rainbow; a gorgeous blue sky without a single
fleecy cloud; and a medley of brilliant islets marked the course of the
great airship as she stemmed her way towards the wild, uncivilized
island of New Guinea. Stepping the broad, long deck above, and enjoying
to the full a climate as balmy as that of Old England in the heyday of
summer, one could peep down upon golden dots rising here and there in
the distance, dots which grew from a purple haze and became more yellow,
till at length the deep green of luxuriant vegetation began to merge
with the yellow, till single objects became distinguishable, and until
one could trace long lengths of smooth sand upon which white breakers
roared, wide-sweeping coral boundaries of silent lagoons that appeared
by their wealth of colour to be of vast depth, and groves of waving
palms that invited those aboard the ship to halt, to descend and rest
awhile amidst surroundings the peace and beauty of which none had ever
seen an equal. But sometimes the picture was spoiled, for dark objects
dotted the sands. Men raced out from amidst the trees, and puny bows
sent equally puny arrows soaring upward in a feeble attempt to reach the
leviathan overhead.

"Plucky of 'em," remarked the Major. "No doubt those islanders take us
for some supernatural object, and are really shaking in their shoes."

"Shoes!" interjected the Commander, with lifting eyebrows, lowering the
glasses which he had held for some while glued to his eyes. "I don't see
anything to convince me that the people we have seen make use of such
civilized attachments. Indeed, their clothing is chiefly remarkable by
its absence. My dear Major, we are passing above islets seldom visited
by white men, some hardly visited even by wandering Chinese or Dyaks.
Those are nature's children we see below, many of them without a doubt
wild heathen cannibals."

"Ugh! Supposing we were to fall," laughed Dick.

"Then we should be promptly enshrined as gods," grinned the Major. "I
don't say, Dicky, my lad, that we should be allowed to keep this mortal
state. The chances are that we should be killed out of hand and
skilfully stuffed. Pleasant ending, eh? First the worthy Mr. Carl
Reitberg, sportsman and magnate, does his best to blow us to pieces;
then Joe makes a vain attempt to asphyxiate us all, or to plunge us for
ever in an atmosphere likely to act upon us as would a refrigerator.
Finally, there come these natives and a stuffing process."

"For them, sir, yes," laughed Dick. "If they're cannibals, and we're
good eating, then there would be stuffing for them with a vengeance."

Sometimes fleets of canoes emerged from groves of palms or were launched
from placid lagoons, while their crews paddled madly in the vain attempt
to keep pace with the airship. And so as to encourage them, and because
there was no danger of colliding with high ground, Joe set the ship at a
lower altitude, till she was but a hundred feet above the water.

But such close acquaintance with this strange monster was too much for
the nerves of the natives. It had been very well for them to discharge
arrows at her when a thousand feet up. But now, when her vast
proportions were more apparent, they took fright, and without a single
exception bolted for cover, many of the passengers in the dug-outs
diving overboard and swimming beneath water.

"Not that it'd help 'em much," the Major remarked. "With a rifle one
could pick every one of them off as he came to the surface to breathe.
Look! Did ever you see such clear water?"

It was positively fascinating to gaze downward and watch fish darting
here and there, to follow the agonized movements of the natives who had
taken to the water. For at that elevation the bed of the ocean was laid
out like a map, a beautiful golden map, crossed by dull-red bands of
coral often enough, marked by upheavals of rock in some places, and
once, close to a rocky headland, showing on the sand at its foot the
outline of a lost vessel.

"What a ship for treasure hunting!" cried the Commander. "No need to
sound and dredge and send divers down in order to discover a wreck.
There it would lie, beneath one's eyes, and one could set to work
immediately. Joe, tell us like a good fellow, how far can a man see into
other waters?"

"A hundred feet, sometimes more. In the Yellow Sea not nearly as much.
But let us take the English Channel. I have carried out experiments
there, and have detected the presence of a wreck in quite deep water. As
to a submarine, from a ship such as this is one could drop a heavy mine
over a submerged vessel without difficulty and without much danger to
oneself."

"So that the use of submarines will become limited once such ships as
this are built in numbers," ventured the Major.

"Exactly--or, rather, the risks to the crews of submarines will become
even greater."

"Which leads one to ask where all this modern invention will end? As
applied to engines of destruction, it has provided means whereby men may
be massacred by the hundred; for modern guns and modern shell are
capable of terrible destruction at distances never dreamed of but fifty
years ago. Ships may be caused to founder not only by the direct gunfire
of an opponent, or by torpedoes launched at her, but by the aid of
submarines, the presence of which may not have been suspected. Add the
modern rifle, with its high-muzzle velocity and consequent flat
trajectory, and its vastly increased range, whereby troops may be slain
at a distance of two miles from the firing point. Then, with wireless
apparatus to enable one general to co-ordinate his movements with
another, aeroplanes to spy out the land and report the presence of
unsuspected troops, and lastly, airships such as this one, capable of
almost anything--why, sir, where are we coming to?"

"Were I to say to a stage where nations agreed to limit armaments, to
clear up their disputes by means of arbitration, and merely to keep
sufficient fighting forces to collectively police the world, I should be
considered a madman," said Joe deliberately. "But that era is coming.
Not perhaps in our time, Major; but come it must, and not precisely for
the reason that modern invention has made war more terrible than ever.
No, sir. It is because ships such as this one, ships which plough the
sea also, and better means of intercommunication amongst the nations,
are making friends of the working people. Wars are made too often in the
Cabinets and Foreign Offices of the nations. Then men are dragged from
their homes to fight men with whom they would otherwise willingly have
been friendly. They are sacrificed for an idea perhaps, for a petty
dispute which the people will in future leave with every confidence to
such tribunals as I have mentioned. Then, sir, there will be no war,
save against savages who stand in the way of civilization."

Such a time may come--who knows? and it would be well for the peoples of
the world undoubtedly. It is said that without war, without the
strenuous effort to keep in ready condition, a nation suffers in
morale, deteriorates, in fact. And one cannot but admit the value of the
ordered life, the discipline, and the method young men encounter when
enlisted in either army or navy. Still efficiency for war is not the
only means of taxing the efforts of a nation. Peace demands its
strenuous times, and commerce, the arts and professions, a thousand ways
of living call for vigour, for brain and muscle, for all that is good in
men, and thus keep up the morale of a nation. However, Joe and his
friends were not the ones to embark upon such a discussion when sailing
above such a delightfully purple sea as that lying beneath them. They
hung over the rail of the vessel, eyeing each tiny islet as they slipped
past it, and finally gave a shout of delight as New Guinea hove into
sight in the distance.

"We'll mount a little so as to obtain a finer view," said Joe. "Then we
can select a landing-place. It's already evening, so that I fancy it
will be dark before we arrive over the island."

The tropical night found the ship floating directly over the island,
across a great breadth of which she had rushed during the latter part of
the evening. Then, having crossed a range of mountains, some of the
peaks of which were of great height, Joe switched on one of his huge
lanterns. Instantly the land beneath was illuminated, and as the vessel
descended it was seen that she was directly above a huge plateau, which
ran upward to the south, there to join with the foot-hills of the range
they had just crossed, while in the opposite direction it fell away of
a sudden, descending abruptly into a wide valley in which ran a roaring
torrent. For the rest there was jungle everywhere, impenetrable jungle,
save in a few places, one of which seemed exactly to meet the needs of
the voyagers. At ten o'clock precisely the great airship grounded,
settled upon her powerful spring arms, and then became stationary.

"And here we shall be able to overlook the engines," declared Joe as
they chatted after supper. "Not that the motors want any particular
attention. Still, a rest will do them no harm, while every engineer
loves to make sure that everything is running as it should do.
Therefore, to-morrow, gentlemen, the island is at your service, while I
shall be seeing to the matters I have mentioned."

To say that the island of New Guinea was at the service of his
passengers was to put the matter amusingly. For New Guinea happens to be
an enormous place, and without an airship the crossing of it is almost
an impossibility. Still, the neighbouring jungle and that broiling
torrent down below offered many attractions, so that, when the morning
dawned, it found Dick and Alec already dressed for an expedition and
armed with shot guns, while the Major, the Commander, and Andrew stepped
from their cabins dressed in rough shooting clothes, the latter with a
rod in his hand, while the others bore sporting rifles. Larkin shuffled
close behind the Major, bearing a basket of provisions, while Hawkins
and Hurst had donned their service gaiters, and each with a haversack
over his shoulder intimated that he proposed to keep watch and ward over
Dick and Alec.

Then all trudged from the gallery into the open, sought for a path
through the jungle, and finding none, proceeded to force their way
through the matted trees and trailing creepers as best they could.

"We've agreed to make for the edge of the plateau," said the Commander.
"Then Mr. Andrew can make his way down to the river, while we can follow
or stay above--whichever appeals most to us. How nice it is to feel
solid earth once more beneath one's feet."

"And smell the vegetation," chimed in the Major. "Not that jungles are
always very savoury. Down below there, in the rainy season, I expect
there's a miasma, and a European would quickly suffer from fever. Now,
here we are at the edge. _Au revoir_, Mr. Andrew!"

They watched the white-haired but active Colonial descend the steep
slope of the ridge, and saw him halt at the side of the tumbling stream
to adjust his rod and prepare his line. Then the shooting party divided,
Alec and Dick with the faithful Hurst and Hawkins striking off in one
direction, while the Major and Commander, with the scowling Larkin,
departed in another. And very soon rifle shots awoke the echoes, while
our two young friends managed to bag half a dozen birds not at all
unlike pheasants.

[Illustration: THE QUARTET SET OUT FOR THE AIRSHIP

_Page 323_]

"Do for the pot, and will come as a welcome change after frozen stuff,"
laughed Dick. "Wonder whether there are any alligators down in the
river. If so I'd like to take a shot at 'em. Only we'd have to return
for our rifles."

A close observation of the river revealed what all felt sure were the
snouts of the beasts Dick had mentioned, while a number of log-like
forms stretched on a mud bank were proclaimed by Alec to be undoubtedly
the animal he was in search of.

"Then back we go to the ship," said Dick with his usual impetuosity,
leading the return journey instantly. "Suppose there ain't no difficulty
about finding her? Eh? It'd be mighty awkward if we lost our bearings,
and you've to remember that she ain't like an ordinary ship. You can see
right through her, and that don't help much when trying to locate a
thing like that in these jungles."

As a matter of fact the task of returning proved extremely difficult,
for whereas the path they had at first followed led them through a
number of more or less open spaces, they now found that they had plunged
into the densest of jungle. It called at once for the use of their
knives, and even with their help progress was slow to the point of
exasperation. Some minutes later they broke their way into a little
clearing, across the roof of which trailed innumerable creepers, decked
with wonderful blossoms, while the trees were filled with screeching
parakeets, and, in the shaded parts, by myriad droning insects. Then
there was a curious crisp, almost musical sound, a twang in fact,
followed by the dull thud of a light object striking the trunk of a
tree. Dick looked up. An arrow was quivering just above his head, and
as he looked a second sped by him.

"My hat!" he shouted, thoroughly astonished. "See that! Arrows!"

"Niggers, sir!" cried Hawkins. "I catched a sight of one just through
the trees. Best look for cover."

The words had hardly left his lips when Alec staggered backward and
gripped the air helplessly. Dick seized him promptly and dragged him
down behind a tree.

"Just keep your weather eye open there, Hawkins and Hurst," he sang out
cheerily, "while I lay-to here and repair damages. Mr. Alec's hit. Ah!
It's not much. He's conscious and says it's nothing. Now, old boy, let's
see what has happened. Ah! Gone clean through the fleshy part of the arm
and still transfixing the limb. Right! Break it off short and pull the
piece out. Now, let's have a look at the head."

He held the end of the broken arrow up and inspected it carefully. It
was armed with a piece of pointed metal of a yellowish-green colour.

"Copper," Dick announced. "A little corroded, but I'll swear it ain't
poisoned. Anyway, to make sure, I'll suck the wound. That'll make a
fellow feel easier."

Without hesitation he slit the sleeve right up above the elbow, using
the sharp edge of the arrowhead for the purpose, and exposed the wounds
and sucked them both in succession.

"Talk about cannibals," he grinned. "My--Alec, you taste too salt for
anything! Feel better? Oh! Feel absolutely fit! Then let's see what's
happening?"

Half a dozen arrows had meanwhile crossed the clearing, though but for
the single native whom Hawkins declared he had seen, not another had put
in an appearance, nor had there been so much as a sound from them.
Merely the musical twanging of bows as the arrows were released.

"Put a charge into 'em, sir!" cried Hurst. "Them small shot'll soon
clear 'em away. You'll hear the varmints holler."

It seemed to be a reasonable course to take, and at once Dick lifted his
gun and sent the contents of two cartridges swishing amongst the trees.
Not a cry followed, but the curious twang of bows was not again heard,
while no more arrows flew across the clearing.

"Then we'll push on toward the ship. Now, Alec, feel fit for it?"

"Perfectly--never more so. I admit that at first the shock of the wound
and the pain rather made me feel funny. But I'm right now. Go ahead.
Sorry to have been such a bother."

In single file now, Dick leading, Able Seaman Hawkins immediately
behind, and Hurst in rear, armed with his clasp knife, the quartet
struck out for the airship. Once Dick imagined that he caught a fleeting
glimpse of a native to his right. Then he thought he must have been
mistaken. A minute later the wireless mast at the top of the airship
met his view, with its tiny fluttering Union Jack attached to it.

"Hooray!" he shouted. "There at last. I'm beginning to wonder what has
happened to the other three who set out with us."

He turned to speak to his comrades, took another step forward, and then
disappeared into an enormous pit dug for that purpose. There he was
received by a dozen or more active natives, and before Mr. Dicky Hamshaw
could quite recover his senses, he was flat on his face on the sticky
clay, his arms drawn up behind him, while the dozen natives already
mentioned were busily engaged in winding green creepers about his ankles
and knees and wrists and elbows. Not a sound escaped them. Not a blow
was delivered, though Dick struggled fiercely. As to his companions he
had no knowledge of them. They gave no shout, as one might have expected
had they been attacked; there was not so much as a call to show that
they had missed their leader. Only the birds still chattered above,
while one could dimly hear the roar of the stream tumbling down the
valley. Perhaps it was three minutes later when Dick, trussed like a
fowl, was caught in the arms of a number of stalwart natives and pitched
upward, so that he landed in the jungle. Then his weight was shouldered,
and thereafter he only knew that he was being carried through the
jungle, that often enough his body was bruised against overhanging
branches, and that the most noticeable thing about his captors was their
surprisingly strong odour. For the rest, they were tall, muscular men,
exceedingly well made, and boasting of an abundance of hair, a regular
mop, in fact, which covered their heads.

"Real beauties," thought Dick, still rather breathless after such a
surprise, but not in the least downhearted. "Handsome chaps, without a
doubt, but, my word, they do just smell a trifle. Seems to me that they
must anoint their bodies with something composed of dead fish and glue.
Ugh! 'Pon my word, it makes me feel quite giddy."

He tried wagging his head and calling to his captors. But not one took
the smallest notice of him. Then Dicky made a second attempt, shouting
loudly. At once a huge native who was leading this silent party turned,
scowled at the midshipman, and prodded him with the blunt end of a
spear.

"And looks as if he'd use the business end next time," thought Dick,
eyeing the ruffian. "This is a turn up. And I wonder what's happened to
Alec and the others?"

But he was destined to be kept waiting, for those silent natives still
forged their way through the jungle, and when they had been moving for
some time and had unceremoniously pitched Dick to the ground as if he
were a bundle, it was only for a momentary rest. Another batch of men
who till then had been hidden in the jungle picked him up upon their
shoulders, and the same solitary dispiriting march was continued. At
length, however, it came to an end. The jungle became thinner, and the
trees more scattered. Then they suddenly emerged into the open and
entered a village built by the bank of a river. Natives swarmed from the
low-built huts, women, men, and children, and danced about the captive.
Their chatter and their cries came as a positive relief to our hero
after the deathly silence of the others. He was carried across to one of
the huts, the door was opened, and a moment later Dick was sent rolling.

"And jolly nearly broke my arm in the fall," he growled, beginning to
get angry. "A nice way in which to treat a captive, to treat a fellow
they may be thinking of devouring."

That was Dicky Hamshaw all over. He couldn't help a joke, even at his
own expense, and there he was actually smiling in the darkness of this
native cabin. But comfort is a great thing, even in the midst of
adversity, and at once he rolled over and managed to prop himself
upright against one of the plaited walls.

"Wish they hadn't been so free with these creepers," he grumbled. "A
chap can't move, while my hands and feet feel absolutely numb. Now, how
does a fellow tackle an ugly job such as this is? Of course, if there
was another here, Alec, for instance, or that beggar Hawkins, we'd try
our hands at gnawing. No, not hands; teeth, of course. But I ain't an
acrobat, and can't twist my head round to get at this binding."

He could hardly move, in fact, and as the minutes passed the numbness of
the hands and feet became more apparent. It was clear that if he were to
make no effort now he would not have the strength to do so if he
delayed much longer. And for that reason, and because the midshipman was
a good plucked 'un, as Hawkins had often and often asserted, he managed
to get to his knees, though they were lashed together, and slowly jerked
himself across the floor of the hut. The movement brought him to the
opposite wall, close to the part where the door was situated, and there
he discovered a crevice through which he could look.

"The village street, and niggers hopping about everywhere. Still excited
at their capture," thought Dick. "Hallo! A procession. More parcels
being carried. Why, if that isn't Mr. Andrew!"

It was that gentleman without a shadow of doubt, with the Commander and
the Major following. He recognized Larkin with the greatest ease, for
that individual's face was gnarled and twisted, and his squinting eyes
threatened all and sundry. Hawkins and Hurst followed, borne on the
shoulders of eight natives, while Alec's trussed figure brought up the
rear.

"All prisoners! What a turn-up for the airship and for Joe!" thought
Dick. "There go some of 'em into a hut. Yes, Mr. Andrew and Hawkins and
Hurst into one. Now, Larkin and the two officers into another. Jove!
They're carting Alec in my direction. Better get back where I was
thrown."

That was easily done by the simple process of rolling, so that when the
door of the hut was thrown open his captors discovered Dick lying on his
face, as straight as a plank, seemingly unconscious. There was a thud
as Alec's frame landed, the door went to with a creaking bang, and again
there was silence.

Dick rolled across to his friend at once, struggled to his knees, and
then manoeuvred so as to be able to bend over him.

"You lie still," he whispered. "I'm going to try my grinders on those
lashings of yours. My! Ain't this a turn-up?"

He did not wait for an answer, but sprawled as best he could across
Alec's body. Then wriggling to the best of his ability, he managed to
get his mouth down to the creeper lashing which secured Alec's wrists
and elbows. Nor was the task he had set himself so very difficult, for
those creepers were fresh and green, and only a bare half-inch in
diameter. The teeth, too, which played upon them were strong and
healthy, with splendid cutting edges. So that within ten minutes the
hands were free, while a second effort cut through the lashings holding
the elbows.

"Buck up and get feeling into your hands," gasped Dick. "I know how they
are, as numb as possible. But be quick with it! Then dive into my
pocket. I put that arrowhead there, and know those ruffians haven't
moved it. There! Rub your hands together. Feeling better, eh?"

Alec beat his hands together, and rubbed them vigorously. But in spite
of that fully five minutes passed before he could use them. Then he
dived into Dick's pocket, fished out the arrowhead, and soon had the
lashings which bound the midshipman lying loose beside him. To cut his
still remaining bonds was an easy matter, so that very soon both were
free.

"And now comes the easiest part of the business," whispered Dick, his
old assurance undiminished. "Alec, we've got to get a move-on this
instant. See those two huts opposite? Well, our friends are lying there,
and we're going to 'em. Now, come along, and look lively. If you meet a
nigger give him what for instantly."

It was a simple matter to force a hole through the wattle walls of the
hut, so that within a very few minutes the two had emerged from it on
the side facing the river. Bending on all-fours, they crept away till
they had passed three other huts, and had reached one of larger
dimensions.

"Kind of courtroom, I expect," whispered the midshipman. "Anyway, it
seems empty, for I've squinted in. It's the kind of crib to suit very
well, and happens to be exactly opposite the huts in which they've put
our comrades. Now, in we go. Who says we're grumbling?"

He was a splendid fellow to follow, and heartened Alec wonderfully.
Indeed, the latter was almost enjoying the adventure. But care was
needed, and dash into the bargain, while the hardest task of all
remained before them.

"Easy enough to crawl about behind the village, and to hide up in this
courthouse," said Dick, scratching his head. "But there's the main
street to be crossed before we can join the others, and that street
happens to be swarming with smelly natives."

No doubt it was no ordinary difficulty. But then Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw
was not altogether an ordinary individual.

"Hang the danger and the bother of it!" he exclaimed testily. "There are
the huts with our friends in 'em. Well, I ain't going to be kept here by
a parcel of niggers."




CHAPTER XIX

Saved from the Natives


"They're getting ready for the entertainment. My word!" whispered Alec
in his chum's ear, when the two had been secreted for some little while
in the huge hut to which they had managed to gain admission. "Preparing
for the ceremony, and a fine hullabaloo they're making about it."

"And propose to conduct matters with full rites and customs and
ceremony. In fact, a full-dress parade," said Dick, smiling, though
there was an anxious look about his eyes. "Full dress, Alec, not that
there's much dress about these niggers. That's where the difficulty
comes in."

"What difficulty? How? Don't follow."

"Well, if they were decent, civilized sort of savages they'd wear
cloaks, wouldn't they? They'd cover themselves with something better
than the plaited girdles they have about them. That's where we'd come
in. We'd borrow a couple of their wretched blankets, smuggle ourselves
across the way, and then--well, there you are."

"Wish we were. But crossing the street here is no easy matter. What are
these wretches doing?"

"What I've said. Holding a full-dress parade. Making ready for a
ceremonial. Preparing for dinner."

There was still an excited grin on the midshipman's lips. But he was by
no means happy. Who could have been under the circumstances? for there
he and Alec were, free for the moment to be sure, but separated from
their friends, while the latter were bound hand and foot and imprisoned
in the huts opposite. As to the natives by whom they had been captured,
they were an ill-smelling, murderous-looking lot. Tall, and extremely
athletic, their bodies covered with knotted muscles, they were now
parading the street, coming past the courthouse in a body, led by three
dreadful individuals who wore ugly masks, and to whose persons hung a
hundred different items. To a clattering dirge played by some twenty
musicians, a dirge that boasted of no traceable tune, the three natives
in front were dancing wildly, extravagantly throwing their limbs about,
twisting and writhing and foaming at the mouth.

"Hideous brutes. Men of mystery, I suppose," whispered Dick. "Medicine
men, sorcerers, or whatever they call 'em. Look at the chaps behind with
clubs in their hands, and the rest with bows and arrows and spears. This
is a precious pickle!"

It was worse. It was a desperate situation in which to find themselves,
and the trouble was that Dick and Alec, though burning to do something
active, could see their way to do nothing.

"Couldn't reach the ship. Impossible," muttered the latter. "First
thing, we don't know where she is. I couldn't find my way to her for a
fortune. Then I'd be so long over the job that I'd arrive too late. Eh,
Dick?"

"Got to work this little business out ourselves," came the answer.
"You're right about the ship. Those beggars carried us a long way, for
they walked very quickly. Besides, there ain't time, as you say. We've
got to get a move-on ourselves, for, if I'm not mistaken, that band
ain't working for nothing. Look at the village folks following. They
turned out in force to see the fun."

And fun it must have been to those untutored savages, though to the
prisoners it was an agony. For those three horrible medicine men halted
opposite the hut in which Dick's friends had been incarcerated and began
another dance, if possible more frenzied than the last. The band, too,
made the most of the occasion, each instrumentalist beating his
parchment-covered gourd, or his wooden native piano, as if he wished to
outdo his comrades. Then stakes were brought, fresh cut from the jungle,
their ends pointed, and to the sound of the instruments, to the wild
yells of the natives and the dancing of those three wretches, they were
driven into the ground, three in front of each hut, and two before that
so recently occupied by Dick and Alec. Then firewood was brought by the
women and children and laid close to them.

The two young fellows looked on at these preparations with sinking
hearts, their spirits oozing in spite of their courage. For the reason
for such gruesome preparations was obvious. Dick knew, Alec knew also,
and explorers have declared it to be a fact beyond contradiction, that
the natives of New Guinea are addicted to cannibilism. Horrible as the
thought may be, yet there is proof positive to support this affirmation.
And here were Alec and his friends faced with this desperate situation.
No wonder that the young fellow had gone white to his lips, and that
Dick's fists were clenched and his brows knitted.

"I'm not going to stay and look on any longer," he said all of a sudden.
"I'm going higher up the street, where I shall make a dart across and so
try to reach the other side. Coming? or staying? You haven't any need to
take risks."

Alec blazed out instantly. He found the excuse for temper a positive
relief, and though he answered little above a whisper his words were
bitter ones and angry.

"Taking risks! Who's a right to take 'em more than I have? Who are you
to talk about risks to me--to ask if I'm coming or funking?"

"Didn't say funking," snarled the middy.

"No. But you meant it. It was as good as saying it. I'm jiggered if I'll
stand----"

"Sorry," said Dick lamely. "Chap doesn't always think when he's
speaking. I knew you were game. Only it's a desperate sort of thing to
try, and I suggested the business."

"That's why I'll come, willingly," was the handsome answer. "There,
shake hands on it, and let's move. But we want a weapon of some sort.
Let's hunt round here."

The result of this effort was the discovery of a bundle of arrows, half
a dozen formidable clubs, the blade of a spear, and an old cutlass.

"Showing they have had something to do with outside people," said Dick.

"It's rusty, but it'll do. Now, I'll take a couple of the clubs, and you
bring as many as you can carry. We want 'em for the others. Now, out we
go. If we're going to cross, it'll have to be pretty soon or never."

Never, one would have said, seeing that the narrow street was packed
with individuals, with women coming and going, and with shrieking
children. But the two young fellows were determined, and at once forced
their way through the same opening by which they had entered. They were
now on the river face of the village, directly behind the largest hut of
all, with other dwellings extending to right and left of them. A few
paces away there was a thin fringe of jungle, and then a broad river.
Dick looked at it swiftly.

"Ground falls towards it," he whispered. "The trees, too, would help to
hide us. Let's creep down to the water."

They were there in a few seconds, and found themselves treading a muddy
bank, upon which lay a dozen or more dug-outs. Dick did not hesitate for
a moment. He placed his clubs and the cutlass in one of the boats, the
nearest to the water, signalled to Alec to do likewise, and then began
to lift her. Alec helped him instantly, and together they carried it
down the bank and floated it in the river.

"Step in," said Alec.

"Right! Got a paddle?"

"Yes--up stream; I saw something."

What it was that he had seen Alec did not venture to tell his comrade;
together they struck their paddles into the water, and sent the boat
running upstream.

"Keep her close in," whispered Dick. "What's this you noticed?"

"Water away to our left, at the top end of the village. I caught the
reflection through the trees. It may be only a pond of sorts, or it may
communicate with the river. If it does, they're diddled."

"Jingo, the very thing! If only we're so lucky. No--yes. I do believe
there is a stream. Steady does it. Now, round with her head. Hooroo!
We're in good luck now, and we'll be able to stir up those niggers. Yah!
Listen to the brutes howling."

Fierce cries came from the village at this moment, and made them think
that their own escape had been discovered. But it was not that which had
aroused the natives. It was the production of one of their captives. One
of the huts was opened, one of the lashed bundles lifted and dragged
out, and then the door was shut firmly. It was Larkin who was brought
into the light of day and sat upright. The lashings about his knees and
feet were cut at once, while a couple of the warriors began to knead his
limbs with the hard palms of their hands. No doubt they were merely
restoring the circulation, and Larkin himself was by no means misled by
their action.

"Hof all the smellin', ugly, dirty critters!" he exploded. "And what's
this they're up to? Has if I didn't know as well as possible. Jest give
me a chance one of these fine moments, and if I get at one of them three
fuzzy-wuzzy dervishes, why, I'll make 'em fuzzy."

They dragged him to his feet at last, only to find that he could not yet
support his weight. Then the massagers made a second attempt, while a
few amiable individuals, seeing the helpless Larkin once more lifted,
held the points of their spears beneath him, a gentle hint that he was
to remain standing. A little later they bound him to one of the stumps
driven into the ground, and commenced an impressive dance about him.

Meanwhile Dick and Alec had not been idle. A few strokes of their
paddles had taken them from the main channel of the river, and soon they
guessed, though they could not be sure of the fact, that this stream
enclosed the village, and discharged itself into the river again
somewhere lower.

"Of course, I remember now. The fellows who were carrying me waded
through water," said Dick. "That proves it. Let's get ahead, for that'll
take us directly behind the spot we're aiming for. Then we'll creep
through the jungle."

Digging their paddles in till the blades were submerged, they sent the
light craft swishing onward, and very soon were sure that they had
reached the correct position. Then they leaped ashore, drew the boat up
on the bank, and shouldered their weapons.

"Come on!" said Alec. "If we can break into the huts we'll put a
different sort of complexion on this business. But wait, there are two
of 'em."

"You take one, I take the other. Then we join hands. Better still, if
they don't spot us, slip back into the jungle. Jingo! Listen to their
howling. Hope the business hasn't begun already."

It looked very much as if it had, for as they emerged from the thickness
of the jungle and approached the village they could see an enormous
crowd assembled--that is, enormous for such a village. Perhaps there
were three hundred people there, blackening the street, dancing madly.
And a glimpse between the huts showed one solitary figure lashed upright
to a post. It made Dick's heart leap and Alec's blood boil. They sped
onward at once, keeping under cover, but careless of brambles and
creepers, tearing their way through the underwood till they were
breathless with their exertions. But haste was not likely to be all in
their favour, and, recognizing this, they were soon creeping on
all-fours, worming their way through reeds and long grass to which the
jungle had now given place. At length, when their pent-up feelings were
almost too much for them, they reached the back of the huts, which
fortunately were close together, and promptly proceeded to operate on
them. Indeed, one lusty slash from Dick's sabre made a cut to be proud
of. A second sliced an opening within a foot of the first, while a
little quick handling converted the slits into a wide opening. He was in
within a second, slashing at the creepers binding three figures which
lay helpless upon the mud floor. Nor was there need to caution the
friends whose limbs he had so unexpectedly set free.

"Guessed it must be you, sir," whispered Hawkins, sitting up and
flapping his helpless hands to and fro. Indeed it was pitiable to see
the powerful man reduced for the time being to the weakness of a child.
Dick seized Mr. Andrew and rubbed his limbs with energy, while Hurst
began to kick his heels against the floor and wave his hands after the
manner set by Hawkins.

"Now," whispered the latter hoarsely, when at length the feeling had
returned to his limbs, standing in the semi-darkness of the hut opening
and closing his huge hands, and fashioning formidable fists of them.
"Now, Mr. Dicky--beg pardon--now, sir, let a man get at them 'ere
'eathen. Let 'im 'ave a say in this here matter. Swelp me, but I'm game
to take on the whole pack of black-'earted 'eathen."

If he were, there was likely to be every opportunity, for outside the
roar and shrieks of the natives were appalling in their intensity. Dick
stepped to the front face of the hut and peered through one of the many
crevices, for in New Guinea draughts of cold air are rather to be
desired than otherwise, the heat often enough being extreme. Through
that peephole he saw something that almost turned him livid, rooted him
to the spot, and for a moment held him helpless. For directly beneath
his ken was the figure of the unfortunate Larkin, strung up to one of
those stumps driven into the ground, surrounded by a gesticulating and
evil-smelling mob, and with those three foul, over-dressed sorcerers
close to him. They were dancing now with a different movement. They were
sidling from one point to another, as far as the pressing throng would
allow, twisting this way and that with sinuous, snake-like movements,
but never once taking their eyes from their victim. And each one of
these brutes was armed--the tallest and most hideous with an enormous
club; a second, a fat ruffian of particularly evil type of countenance,
with a curving knife; while the third waved a flaming torch.

As for Larkin, he at least showed his mettle, and reflected credit upon
the service to which he belonged. For he did not wince, not even when
each of those sorcerers in turn sidled in his direction and brandished
his weapons at him, while the third made pretence to set on fire the
wood littering the ground at his feet. Larkin addressed them in a manner
common to the barrack-room. There was the strong flavour of the canteen
about his speech; while his two eyes, no doubt each addressing itself to
some different point, fixed upon the rascals dancing there, scowled at
them, threatened them, but never flinched.

"They're--they're going to sacrifice him, Larkin," Dick managed to blurt
out at last.

"The black-'earted 'eathen," came in a growl from Hawkins, now at his
side, while Hurst joined them, muttering deeply beneath his breath.
"What'll you do, sir?"

"Wait for Mr. Alec and the officers, then rush 'em. Get hold of those
clubs."

But a second later there came a disturbing noise from the adjacent hut,
just at the precise moment when that hideous tall sorcerer danced his
way back to Larkin, and, swinging his club overhead, brought it down
with a thud on the top of the pillar to which the unhappy fellow was
lashed. Even then the brave soldier did not flinch. They heard him growl
loudly and angrily as the club thudded on the top of the stump.

"That's one fer you," they heard, "one fer you, yer ugly son of a gun.
But jest you wait till I get a whack in. Then I'll make yer feel sorry
you was born, I will."

There came a shout from that adjacent hut. The door flew open, and in a
twinkling a forlorn little band dashed forward, Alec at their head, the
Major and the Commander following. Hawkins and Hurst and Dick acted on
that signal. They flung themselves upon the frail walls and door of that
hut, bursting it open as if it were constructed of paper. Then, followed
by Mr. Andrew, they launched themselves at the natives, Dick wielding
his rusty sabre, Hawkins with an enormous club, whilst Hurst and Andrew
were similarly armed.

"The black-'earted 'eathen!" shouted Hawkins, springing to the front,
for he was a huge fellow, and extraordinarily active. "That's fer you,
you smelly sea serpent!"

It was the big sorcerer, he with the club, who had made such fine
practice round Larkin's head, and looked as if he would at any moment
crack his skull. But he was too late now. Hawkins was not the kind of
man to deal a blow that asked for repetition, not at least when in
anger. And he was furious. His club beat down that of the native, broke
it, in fact, and then descended with a crash full on his woolly pate.
The dull crushing sound that followed, and the manner in which this man
of medicine fell in his tracks, told a tale there was no mistaking.
Meanwhile Dick had run through a second sorcerer, while the gallant Alec
had dived for the waist of the third, he with the torch, had handled him
as he would a man breaking from scrum and likely to get clear away if
not securely collared. Yes, Alec seized this wretch, and, exerting an
abnormal strength, lifted him, swung him in the air, and then tossed him
to the ground. By then the Major had cut Larkin free, and the latter
individual burst upon the enemy like a torrent. Seething with
indignation, he selected the fellow whom Alec had tackled, and who had
now risen to his feet. Larkin launched himself at him, seized him by
neck and shoulder, and shook him as if he were a rat. Then he pushed him
away a foot or two, drew himself backward in time to escape a lunge and
a blow from a knife which the rascal had suddenly produced, and then
struck out with tremendous force, sending his fist against the point of
the sorcerer's chin.

"And he won't get askin' fer more, I don't think," declared the furious
soldier, looking about him with those pugnacious, wandering eyes. "No, I
don't think; and so here's something for some of the other fellers."

There might have been no such thing as weapons, and certainly the angry
and gallant fellow had no fear of them. Unarmed himself, save with the
weapons with which nature had provided him, he again flung himself at
the enemy like a rocket, and was seen striking out to right and left,
sending the natives flying. Hurst was there too, Hurst bursting with
righteous indignation, and Hawkins, a force in himself. While the two
officers and their junior, the gallant midshipman, were already in line
with them, Andrew and Alec forming two of the force also.

"Rush 'em," shouted the Commander. "Now, at 'em, hammer and tongs, but
don't go too far. Hooray! They're bolting."

The mass of natives had, indeed, of a sudden taken to their heels, and
no doubt the dash and daring of Dick and his comrades had scared them
wonderfully. But there was something else to account for this sudden
_volte-face_, and a sharp report and a loud detonation from the far end
of the village told its tale instantly. It was the airship. There she
was swooping down upon the place, one of her deck guns in operation.
Pop! pop! pop! The quickfirer sent shot after shot amidst the fleeing
natives, while someone located on the very nose of the ship, on the
tiny, narrow gangway which led to that exposed position, waved
frantically to our friends. It was Joe without a doubt. Joe in the
seventh heaven of delight at the sight of his comrades.

"Stay where you are," he bawled through his megaphone. "We're landing.
Those niggers have gone scuttling over the river."

The ship was down in their midst in the space of a few seconds, and for
a while there was violent shaking of hands amongst the friends.

"Thought I should never see you again," declared Joe, mopping a very
fevered forehead. "Missed you after a few hours had passed and rose at
once to inspect surroundings. Couldn't find a trace of you, and so began
to swoop backward and forward. By chance I saw this village, and with a
pair of glasses made out the situation. No, no, Larkin, not a punitive
expedition this time. We've better things to do, and, after all, these
natives only acted according to their own lights."

The pugnacious Larkin was positively boiling, and strutted about the
little group, his two fists doubled, his arms waving, his head a little
forward, and his eyes turned towards the flying natives.

"Just one little turn at 'em, sir," he asked. "Just one little one, if
only to get a bit of me own back."

"Not a step," replied Joe firmly. "Come, gentlemen, aboard, and let us
be moving."

It was obviously the best course to pursue, as there was nothing to be
gained by attacking the natives. But as a warning to them to leave
Europeans alone in the future the village was fired and the numerous
dug-outs lying upon the bank of the river broken to pieces. One,
however, was taken aboard the airship as a trophy, as well as sundry
clubs, knives, and utensils, while Dick carried away that useful
cutlass.

"Just to show Mr. Reitberg, the sportsman, that we've been here," he
told his chum. "But even when he sees the canoe he won't believe.
However, there are other ways of making him do so."

As a matter of fact Joe and Andrew had been extremely careful throughout
this momentous trip to leave records of their arrival in various parts,
and that document which they had obtained from the foreign office had
been _viséed_ by a variety of officials in a variety of countries.

Thankful to have escaped from the plight in which they had found
themselves, Dick and his friends now embarked, and the great airship
promptly swooped upward.

"From New Guinea to Australia is but a step," said Joe with a smile. "We
will spend a little time in calling on our friends at the Antipodes and
then speed onward, for time is drawing in. We must now pursue a
straighter course."

Ambling across Australia, where her presence caused a huge commotion,
and where both passengers and crew came in for a large share of the
proverbially warm-hearted hospitality of the colonials, the ship called
in at the north and south isles of New Zealand, and then, speeding up
her engines, steered for the south. It was with sad and yet proud hearts
that a week later those aboard manoeuvred the huge vessel directly
over the frozen South Pole, and there gazed down upon the relics left
by Amundsen and Captain Scott, records of the daring and persistent
bravery of men whose names will go down upon the roll of fame for future
generations to observe.

"We will land and ourselves walk across the Southern Pole," said Andrew.
"Then we will visit that tragic spot where Captain Scott and his
comrades, caught by that fatal blizzard, and delayed by a sick comrade,
lay down in their tent and died, died the death of heroes."

One does not need to recount how they descended, nor how they found that
cairn of snow heaped upon the bodies of the fallen. Here crew and
passengers left the ship and stood silently about the cairn reading the
inscription left upon the rough cross erected above it.

"This cross and cairn erected over the remains of Captain R. F. Scott,
C.V.O., R.N., Dr. E. A. Wilson, and Lieutenant H. R. Bowers, R.I.M., as
a slight token to perpetuate their gallant and successful attempt to
reach the goal. This they did on the 17th January, 1912, after the
Norwegians had already done so on the 16th December, 1911."

"And we must not forget their sick comrades who perished on the same
journey," said Andrew solemnly. "They were Captain L. E. G. Oates and
Petty Officer E. Evans, R.N. Truly has it been said of these heroes that
hereabouts died some very gallant gentlemen."

From those cold and forbidding Antarctic regions the airship rushed
towards sunnier climes, and was very soon over Cape Horn. Thence she
traced the whole length of South America, passing over the Pacific coast
of that enormous continent. She threaded her way above the isthmus of
Panama, where the Spaniards of old extracted wealth from the Incas and
from the natives of Mexico, and where Drake and men of his adventurous
stamp won riches from the Spaniard. Thence the vessel paid a visit to
the States of North America, her coming being heralded by the discharge
of fireworks in thousands and by signal rockets. Indeed, a warm welcome
was given to passengers and crew, and invitations to stay longer. But
time was pressing. Canada, too, was calling, so that that long frontier
between North America and Canada was crossed, a frontier, be it noted,
devoid of forts and guns, across which Canadians and Americans
fraternize.

"And now we turn our faces homewards. This is the last lap," said Joe,
when a round of festivities had been enjoyed in various Canadian cities.
"We have proved this ship to be capable of a world-circling trip. She
has safely ridden through tempests which would have destroyed a
Zeppelin. Let us now return to London, there to show the people of
England that we are still in existence, and there to hand over this ship
to the authorities."

It was with light hearts that they sent the vessel eastward. Hovering
for a while over the historical city of Quebec, where French and English
had once contested matters, and where their sons now live in amity
together, Joe sent the aerial monster scudding over the length of the
mighty River St. Laurence. Then they sailed above the vast Gulf of that
name, and swept seaward between Newfoundland and Cape Breton Island. It
was in that neighbourhood that the lookout man sighted a tiny speck upon
the ocean.

"Boat adrift, sir, I think," he reported. "I can see a man waving
something."

Joe fastened his glasses upon the spot, a movement which the Commander
copied.

"Man adrift on a piece of wreckage," sang out the latter. "Waving his
shirt as a signal. Lucky for him that we were crossing."

They steered above the castaway and sent Dick down upon the lift, with
Alec and Hurst to help him. Then they hoisted them again and brought
aboard a man seemingly in the last stages of exhaustion. He was almost
speechless with thirst and black with exposure. A beard of ten days'
growth was on his face, while his hair was long and matted.

"Fisherman," he gasped. "Driven off the land. Been drifting to and fro
for days, and without food and drink for many. Water! water!"

Aboard the airship this unlucky wight received the kindest attention,
and indeed was soon snugly curled up in a bunk in the men's quarters. No
one suspected he was other than he pretended to be, an unfortunate
fisherman from the shores of Nova Scotia. No one aboard recognized the
man as Adolf Fruhmann. But it was he, Carl Reitberg's rascally
lieutenant, and once more crew and passengers and airship were in
imminent danger.




CHAPTER XX

Adolf Fruhmann's Venture


Never perhaps was there a more exaggerated example of base ingratitude,
of trickery, of cunning, and of calculated rascality than that instanced
by the presence of the ruffian, Adolf Fruhmann, aboard the great
airship. Snug in his bunk, feigning exhaustion and illness after
exposure and privation, the wretch successfully evaded the ken of Joe
and his friends while sending messages of the profoundest gratitude to
them.

"All so much dust," he sniggered beneath the bed-clothes, for only the
top of his head was showing. "Just a little more dust in their eyes to
blind 'em. It just makes me roar when I think how the scheme acted, and
Carl saying all the while that it wouldn't. Well, he pays, pays all the
more handsomely."

He went off into a paroxysm of silent laughter, which shook the bunk and
brought the tender-hearted Hawkins to his side within a moment.

"Eh, mate?" he asked gently enough, for your sailor or your soldier
attendant is the very best of fellows, as gentle as any woman, and often
almost as clever where nursing is necessary.

"Eh, mate? Got the shivers? Fever? Well, I've had it, and it ain't too
agreeable. But Mr. Andrew'll put you right. He's the doctor aboard this
ship, and a good 'un. I'll send along for him."

"Please," gurgled the wretch in the bunk, still keeping his head hidden.
"Please, I'm as cold as an icicle at times, and then boiling hot. I'm
dying."

"Not you, mate," came from the encouraging Hawkins, who hastened away at
once so that he might save this derelict fisherman some suffering. And
Mr. Andrew was equally solicitous.

"Come, let us have a look at you, my friend," he begged, arriving in the
men's quarters. "Show your face and so let me judge what is the matter."

The crafty Fruhmann complied in a measure. He roused himself on to one
elbow, and then fell backward as if the effort had weakened him. Then he
pushed the clothes back from his face with one hand, keeping the other
firmly across his eyes.

"Can't see," he mumbled. "Almost blind after those days and nights in
the open. Don't dare to open my eyes."

Andrew left him with a draught, and a caution to Hawkins to see that the
wide windows of the men's quarters were curtained.

"Shade the electric light when it gets dark," he said. "No doubt he is
suffering with his eyes. I've known the same with men lost in the
backwoods of Canada in the winter. There, my friend, a few days will put
you right. You'll be fit to travel back once we get to England."

"But not aboard this ship, no," smiled the artful Fruhmann, burying his
head again once Andrew was gone, just as if he were a frightened
ostrich. "Not aboard this flying vessel, mister. 'Cos she won't be
flying then if Adolf Fruhmann has anything to do with the matter. And to
think I'm here, and so easily, when Carl was in a funk all the while
that I'd miss 'em!"

That set him off into another smothered giggle, which again shook the
bunk and called Hawkins over to him. Indeed, that big-hearted fellow was
decidedly ill at ease, till the arrival of Andrew's promised draught and
its administration to the patient produced an apparently instantaneous
effect.

"Take the shivers out of yer," said Hawkins. "Make yer easy and send yer
to sleep. Sing out when you're wanting anything. There's soup here
that'll make you fit for anything, and lemonade and what not."

Fruhmann thanked him with his tongue in his cheek, disappeared again
beneath the blankets, and gave himself up to scheming and considering
matters. Indeed he was a cunning, clever fellow, and by adopting the
excuse of sickness was entirely freed of suspicion. More than that,
there was no danger of recognition, and the hints and information which
the rascally Carl Reitberg had been able to give him had showed this
wretch that there was little need for caution.

"That beard and the dirt and so on fooled 'em finely," he told himself.
"Not that there's a one to be feared save Sergeant Evans, the man who
worked with the police in South Africa. But he's a saloon man, and
didn't catch sight of me. If he had he'd have been bothered finely. But
if I was to use soap and water and a comb, not to mention a razor, well,
the tale'd be different. And so here I am aboard, a sick and exhausted
fisherman, cared for and molly-coddled by that thundering lout Hawkins,
left pretty much to myself because I'm supposed to be extra sleepy. Ho!
ho! This'll make Carl laugh fit to hurt himself. It's a tale that'll
help to make him pay up extra handsome."

It was, in fact, just the sort of story to go down with the rascally
magnate. All the sporting instincts and ideas as to love of fair play
which he may have possessed in his youthful days were gone entirely. And
even had he still retained a few shreds and remnants of honest feeling
for others at this period he threw them overboard when dealing with Joe
Gresson, Andrew Provost, and the crew and passengers of the great
airship.

"We're bound to beat them," he had told Fruhmann, when the latter had
hurried away from England to meet him at Suez. "We're bound to follow
the ship and break her somewhere. There's money in it."

"I hope so. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm ready to take risks,"
his rascally hireling told him.

"And we've got to find a way to get about the business. Now, I've failed
with the bombs."

"And got scared mighty badly," grinned the other. "Well, it's my turn.
You leave this to me. How will I do it? You listen. See here. The papers
wherever the ship goes are crammed with columns full of her history, her
wonderful powers, her beauty of outline and construction; not to mention
photos. And there's something far more important."

"Eh, yes? What?"

"There's always a list of places she's intending to visit. For instance,
here's the latest telegram from India. Let's read it."

Fruhmann lolled back in his cane-work seat on the veranda of the hotel
and unfolded a paper. "Listen," he said, taking his cigar from his lips
and admiring the cloud of smoke he sent upward. "Here it is. The cable
companies are making a fortune over this airship."

"As I hope to do," sniggered the magnate.

"As you will do if you trust things to me. Now listen. 'Departure of the
great airship. Huge excitement in India. Mr. Joseph Gresson confident of
successful ending to his trip. Proposes now to steer for Borneo and New
Guinea; afterwards for Australia and New Zealand. Will cross the South
Pole direct for Cape Horn, and may be expected in North America. Will
visit Canada finally and make a triumphal return by way of Quebec and
the Gulf of St. Laurence. Those who wish to see the last of her must
hasten to Newfoundland or the Island of Cape Breton.'"

Fruhmann took to his cigar again, looking sharply at his master. Carl
meditated deeply. He was not brilliant at any time, and was now dull to
the point of exasperation.

"Yes," he drawled sluggishly. "But--er--I don't quite see where this
helps us. You can't, for instance, hope to come up with the ship at the
South Pole."

"Stop fooling!" growled his amiable lieutenant. "Who is talking of the
South Pole? You want me to get aboard. Well, Canada's as good as
Australia, and it's possible. I couldn't reach the first before the ship
had passed. But I can reach Canada. There's a steamer leaving the Canal
this very evening. She's a pleasure cruiser direct from New York, and
she steams straight home from the Mediterranean. Now, I board her. Never
mind if they won't take passengers. I'll smuggle myself aboard and your
money'll do the rest. From New York the train takes me quick to Nova
Scotia, and from there to Cape Breton Island it's a mere step."

"Ah!" The fat magnate began to follow. "But----" he gasped, turning in
his chair. "Then?"

"Easy. I steal a boat and put out to sea just before the ship leaves
Quebec. I've built a sort of raft already. I sink the boat and take to
the raft, while I've been growing a beard from this very instant. I
signal the ship----"

"Stop!" cried Carl. "It may be night-time when she comes over."

"But I have a lamp. Fortunate, ain't it? It's all I've saved from my
boat. A mere lamp! No food. No drink. Just that lucky lamp, and I
signal. I'm taken aboard. I'm ill, desperately bad. I lie up in a bunk,
and----"

The fat magnate laughed till he coughed, and then became positively
purple.

"You--you're a boy, Adolf," he wheezed. "It's a fine scheme. But--but
supposing it fails. Supposing the ship changes her course? Then it's too
late. You're leaving the attempt to the very last instant."

"And all the better. It won't fail. Besides, at the end the folks aboard
won't be suspicious. They've been looking out for you since you planted
those bombs aboard. They've had a wary eye open for sportsmen. But I'm
merely a poor, exhausted fisherman. I don't count. I'm too ill to be
interviewed, and I----"

"How'll you do it?" asked Carl eagerly.

"Ah, that's telling!"

It was a matter on which Fruhmann had been absolutely silent. But he had
his plans. Indeed, his scheme had been completed long ago in every
detail, and as he lay in that bunk, sniggering violently at times, he
was a proud and happy scoundrel. For his plans had carried so far
wonderfully. He was in the camp of the enemy, but as a friend. He was a
pampered, unfortunate fisherman, at whose presence no one could feel
suspicion. In fact, he was on the verge of a triumph. Nor was he the one
to hurry.

"Let 'em settle down to the feeling that I'm aboard," he told himself.
"To-morrow night'll do. I ain't going to spoil things by hurrying."

And so till the following night he lay inert in his bunk, still a prey
to those extraordinary attacks which alarmed the honest Hawkins. It was
after midnight when he crept from the men's quarters, leaving them all
slumbering, and made his crafty way along the gallery. Nor, strangely
enough, did he need a guide.

"Got Carl to draw a sketch of the ship, and studied it," he smiled.
"That's the way to do this sort of business. Ah! That's the engine-room.
I have to go for'ard to find the ladder. Wonder who's on duty?"

He could hear the soft purr of those motors so beloved of Joe Gresson.
He halted just above the place and stared in through the transparent
floor of the gallery. One light was burning, a shaded light, and close
to it sat the man in charge of the engines. He was asleep. Fruhmann
almost whistled.

"Got him!" he hissed. "Easy as smoking. Slip down there, keeping the
motors between me and him. There's enough noise to keep him from
hearing. Then--then I do it."

A pair of socks were his only foot covering, and made not a sound as he
placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder. If anyone could ever
creep like a cat it was this scoundrel. He seemed to slide down the
ladder while never once did he take his eyes from the form of the
sleeper. Then he went on hands and knees and crawled down one side of
the range of motors.

"Better than bombs, far," he was saying. "Must work things so as to
make the ship helpless. Just now her automatic gear's steering her upon
the course they've set. But there won't be any automatic movement when
I've finished. And the best of my scheme is that it don't endanger life,
that is, my life. It's blowing tidyish now, and of course the ship'll
feel it. She'll get sent this way and that, and be wellnigh wrecked. But
she's got wireless, and we're over the track of ships. That's handy."

How the cunning rascal had schemed it all out. Whatever he proposed to
do now he reckoned would render the great ship helpless, and would wreck
her. But not on the instant. No. He was not attempting desperate methods
such as Carl had chosen. The ship would be helpless, and become a wreck
in time, but her wireless would enable some steamer to be called before
the last fatal moment.

"It's grand and so easy," Fruhmann gurgled. "Now, we remember the
description. There's a large valve on the left of the engines. That
empties the water tanks. But we're on the other side, and the valve just
here sets free the paraffin. It drains their tanks, runs away with the
fuel supply of the engines, empties the radiators, and taps every drain
from the hydraulic distributors. In fact, just this little, gentle turn
makes her as helpless as a child, robs her motors of power and lets the
breeze play goodness knows what with her. How very simple!"

The villain, smiling at his own cleverness, steadily turned the lever
controlling that valve and heard on the instant the gurgle of fluid
running swiftly through the open orifice. Then he crept to the ladder,
clambered it cautiously, and faced for the men's quarters. It was at
that precise moment that a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder.

"You're a slinkin', mean-faced, scheming hound," came in gruff tones
from no less a person than Hawkins. "I was took in with yer tales at
first, I own I was, took in nicely. But I'm all alive-o now, and don't
you forget it. Here's just a sample of what'll happen."

He gave the man a terrific buffet, a buffet which sent him giddily
against the wall of the gallery, while it awakened the sleeping
mechanic. "You just look lively and turn down that paraffin valve," sang
out Hawkins, "and next time you wants to sleep call in a mate ter
relieve you. Now, you, I'm a goin'----"

Precisely what the angry Hawkins proposed to do there is no saying. But
Adolf Fruhmann had no intention of giving him the opportunity. To give
this rascal his due, he had courage, a greater store than possessed by
Carl Reitberg. And now that he was taken in the midst of his attempt,
and saw prison before him, he formed the desperate resolve of fleeing.

"Get to the liftway and keep 'em off," he told himself swiftly. "Yes,
there's an aeroplane up there. You press a lever and the machine rises
to the deck. A button sets the engine going. You can't upset. It's safe,
safer than staying here. I'm off to try it."

He broke away from the sailor and went racing along the gallery. A
moment later he was at the liftway, where, guided by his memory of what
Carl had told him, he stepped upon a platform and touched a button. But
that action was disastrous. A piercing shriek instantly awoke the
sleepers aboard the airship. For Adolf Fruhmann, adventurer and
scoundrel, had for all his cleverness made one vital error. He had
stepped upon the wrong platform. That button which he had pushed
released the well through which that twirling lift was wont to descend
beneath the vessel. It opened with a sudden clatter, and in one second
the ruffian who had hoped to wreck Joe Gresson's fine vessel was
precipitated into space. Nor could he be discovered when the
searchlights were turned upon the surface of the Atlantic.

"Then forward!" cried Joe, "and let us be thankful for such a
deliverance."

"Forward!" repeated Andrew. "Surely no further dangers can threaten this
vessel."

"None," declared the Major. "You may say that we're almost in home
waters already. Let's ask the engineer to put on speed. It would be nice
to lunch to-morrow over Old England."

But it was early morning two days later when Dick sighted the white
cliffs of Dover, for a strong head-wind had made rapid travel difficult
and undesirable.

"Port in sight, sir," he said, saluting the Commander.

"Then we'll send 'em a Marconi."

"To whom?" asked Joe, smiling now, for was not this a triumph?

"Er--well, why not to Mr. Carl Reitberg?" gurgled Dick. "Compliments,
you know; happy greetings. Just arrived to claim that money, and sorry
about that fellow you sent to see us off the St. Laurence."

"Send this," said Andrew, laughing at the midshipman. "Great airship in
sight of England. Making for London where all may see her. Owners
present hundred thousand pounds deposited by Carl Reitberg to
hospitals."

"And the ship?" demanded the Major.

"To King and Country," said Andrew promptly.