The Great Airship: A Tale of Adventure.
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Title: The Great Airship: A Tale of Adventure.
Author: F. S. Brereton
Illustrator: C. M. Padday
Release date: October 25, 2012 [eBook #41176]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT AIRSHIP: A TALE OF ADVENTURE. ***
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 sec
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