THE END OF THE CHASE
Ten minutes' paddling brought the boat to the island. Burroughs stood
on the shore with Chung Pi and Chin Tai, waiting in great anxiety.
"O.K.," shouted Errington, the moment he saw his friend. "They've
divided forces--two parties, nearly three-quarters of a mile apart."
"Good man!" cried Burroughs as Errington stepped ashore. "You can tell
me all about it presently. I was uneasy when I heard the shots. We've
got everything ready. The welding isn't very good, but I think the stay
will last long enough to get us home. The only difficulty is the
petrol. I don't think we've enough for more than thirty miles on the
water. Less than twenty, probably, in the air. In any case we shall
have to run the gauntlet again."
"Yes, it looks awkward. I must tell you this much. Seven men are at
the upper end of the pool, dragging their boat out of the mud; no doubt
they've done it by this time. Three more are posted on a dry patch
below the lower end. I think they'll not attempt to pursue us again;
but the boat will probably run down to the gunboat, and they'll be on
the watch for us. If we start the engine the sound will give them
notice: the best thing we can do is to tow the hydroplane into the pool,
then set her running, get up enough speed to fly, and cut off to the
river at an angle, so that we reach it some way lower down. Of course
we shall be heard, and it would be a thousand times better if we could
fly overland the whole way; but we are at least sixty miles from Sui-Fu,
and we simply daren't use up our petrol."
"I can't think of any other plan," said Burroughs. "As it is, we shall
have to trust entirely to the current for the last thirty miles or so,
and everything depends on how far they venture to pursue us. It's time
some government boats came up stream; but it looks as if they are
relying entirely on the regiments from Tibet to put down the rising. We
must simply take our chance."
The hydroplane was launched, and the tow-rope fastened to the boat,
which Lo San and Chin Tai were to paddle to the pool. Chung Pi, much
depressed for want of his customary nourishment, inquired anxiously what
it was proposed to do, and looked troubled on hearing that it was
necessary again to approach the river.
"I am a land fighter," he said mournfully; "in these movements on the
water and in the air I am not myself. I should feel happier if I could
find some melon garden, and fortify myself against the perils we shall
meet."
"Well, we'll drop you into the first melon garden we see, if you like,"
said Burroughs bluntly.
"No, no, illustrious Englishman; I did but utter a pious wish. I must
still hang on to the tail of my horse, though he no longer seems as
beautiful as he did."
They set off along the waterway, Errington instructing Lo San to stop at
the opening into the pool, and report, before paddling farther, whether
he saw any sign of the enemy. On reaching this point, they found
neither boat nor men; it was clear that Errington had guessed rightly.
As soon as the hydroplane was well out on the pool, the tow-rope was
cast off, the planes were outspread, and Errington started the engine,
setting the vessel straight towards the channel leading to the river.
When it had gathered speed, a touch on the elevator sent it aloft, and
Errington steered to the right, intending to strike the river about
half-a-mile lower down than the mouth of the channel. He kept fairly
low, so that the flying boat should be concealed from the gunboat by the
intervening trees.
They came to the river, and instantly saw with alarm that their
precaution was futile. In a recess of the opposite bank, with black
smoke pouring from its funnel, lay the gunboat. The small boat was at
that moment being taken on board. The rebels had chosen this position
to lie in wait, partly to be out of the current, partly to cut off the
escape of the hydroplane down the river if it eluded the search parties.
Errington at once steered the machine back towards the land. He dared
not risk a straight flight down-stream, within range of the guns;
another mishap might put the engine wholly out of action, and in spite
of the expenditure of petrol, flying must be kept up for some minutes
longer. That he did wisely was immediately proved. A fusillade broke
out from the deck of the gunboat, and in another half-minute the machine
guns opened fire. Luckily they had been trained hurriedly, and the
shots went wide of the mark. Before they could be fired again the
flying boat was out of sight behind the trees.
It was some minutes before Errington ventured to direct his course again
towards the river. Everybody on board the flying boat expected that the
rebels would by this time have come to the conclusion that pursuit was
hopeless. The vessel alighted safely on the stream, and bearing in mind
the necessity of husbanding the petrol, Errington thought he might now
let it drift along on the current.
But he was disabused in a very short time. For some miles the river
wound with such frequent curves that only short stretches of it were
visible in either direction. Thus it was with a shock of surprise that
the occupants of the flying boat discovered, on nearing the end of a
straight reach, that the gunboat was coming down at full speed scarcely
half-a-mile behind them. Errington at once started the engine; the
vessel cut round the curve, and planed along at a rate far exceeding the
maximum of which the gunboat was capable.
"We can easily keep ahead as long as the petrol lasts," said Burroughs;
"but it seems as if the beggars know by instinct that we're running
short. The worst of it is that we've several long straight reaches to
navigate a little lower down, and there they can fire at us as they
please."
"Wouldn't it be better to go ahead full speed until the petrol gives
out?" said Errington. "We could gain at least a dozen miles on the
gunboat."
"And still be forty from Sui-Fu, absolutely helpless."
"Why not run up some creek, then, and hide until she has passed or given
it up?"
"No good. We've passed one or two sampans already, and the farther we
go the more traffic we shall meet; some one would obligingly inform the
honourable ruffians of our whereabouts. No: we'd better go as we are
going; use our engine for spurts when we are hard pressed, and drift
when we are not."
Very soon afterwards they encountered a difficulty which they might have
foreseen. The river narrowed to little more than a gorge, through which
the water poured in swift swirling volume. A junk was being hauled
against the current by a hundred "trackers" on the bank. The channel on
one side was obstructed by the tow-ropes; on the other there was not
room for the flying boat to pass, because of the rocks that projected
into the stream, even though the planes had been folded back. There was
nothing for it but to draw into the side, and wait until the vessel had
passed.
This wasted five minutes of valuable time. The gunboat would, of course,
be delayed in the same way; but the gorge was fairly straight, and if
she gained the upper end before the fugitives had escaped at the lower,
the flying boat would be at the mercy of her guns.
Almost immediately after the boat had run in to the bank a shot whistled
overhead. Luckily the junk had now passed. Its deck was crowded with
Chinamen gazing curiously at the flying boat. At the sound of the shot
they yelled with fright, and ran for shelter beneath the port gunwale.
A second shot from the gunboat struck away one of the junk's yards, many
of the trackers dropped their ropes and ran for their lives, and the
unwieldy vessel fell away towards mid-stream, forming an effective
screen against the guns.
Profiting by this diversion, Errington again put the engine at speed,
and the flying boat raced down the river, out of the gorge, into a broad
straight reach that extended apparently for miles. Burroughs glanced
into the petrol tank: it was almost empty. All that they had remaining
was a little in the bottom of the can which had been pierced by the
bullet. Lo San poured this into the tank.
Up to this time the Englishmen had retained their confidence; but the
accumulated misfortunes of the last few minutes plunged them in
desperate anxiety. The drifting of the junk across the stream might be
expected to check the gunboat for at least ten minutes, during which
they would be safe from gunfire. But as soon as the gunboat got clear,
she would have a free field, and unless the flying boat could arrive at
the farther end of the long straight reach before the guns could be
brought into action, she could hardly escape.
Only one course was possible: to use up all the remaining petrol for a
last flight. Then the issue was in the hands of Fate. The planes were
thrown back. Running on at full speed, the vessel skimmed the surface,
rose into the air, and flew along at the rate of fifty miles an hour.
The occupants of various sampans, fishermen casting their nets from the
banks, men and women at work in the paddy fields beyond, gazed with
amazement at the strange object flying over the middle of the river.
Before it came to the end of the straight reach the petrol was all
consumed; the vessel sank upon the surface; and behind, the gunboat
could be seen steaming after it in full career.
Errington steered round the bend. It was a short one; in five minutes
the river again stretched straight in front. He was familiar enough
with the neighbourhood to know that Sui-Fu was still nearly thirty miles
distant. There was now no engine power to rely on; they could but
drift. Once more the idea of running into a creek occurred to them, only
to be abandoned, for the sampans in this part of the river were more
numerous, and some one would certainly think it worth while to betray
their presence.
They were at their wits' end. During their flight they had gained
several miles on the gunboat, but the very fact that they had descended
would inform the rebels that they could fly no longer. The pursuit
would be kept up; they must be overtaken within twenty minutes at the
most, unless some unforeseen incident intervened.
The boat drifted on, and came to another bend; the gunboat had not yet
hove in sight, but they could distinctly hear the throbbing of its
engines. Again the river straightened, and though there were slight
curves which would hide them from the pursuers for some few moments at a
time, the general course was so direct that for at least five minutes
they would afford a target for the guns. Looking anxiously back,
Burroughs saw the gunboat come into the straight, perhaps a mile behind.
Errington steered near the left bank, in order to gain what cover the
occasional slight windings would afford. A minute afterwards they heard
a report, but they did not see the shot, nor discover where it fell.
Half-a-minute later a shot plunged into the water a yard or two behind;
the gunners had the range. A tree-clad bluff hid them for another
minute; as soon as the boat again came into the open, a third shot fell
some distance ahead, and the gunboat was rapidly overhauling them.
Disregarding the risk of striking a submerged rock, Errington hugged the
bank, losing time by following the curves, but gaining what was much
more precious in this crisis, fitful protection from the guns.
They came to the end of the reach. Turning the corner, they suddenly
caught sight of the smoke of a steamer ahead of them, coming up-stream.
Their feeling at the moment was that they were caught between two fires,
though an instant's reflection showed them the scant probability of the
approaching vessel belonging to the rebels. They were tense with
excitement, anxiety, hope. The nose of the gunboat behind came into
view, only to disappear again as the flying boat rounded a slight curve.
The vessel ahead was not as yet visible; merely its smoke could be seen
over the right bank. In another minute both vessels came into sight
simultaneously, at almost equal intervals from the smaller craft
drifting downstream. But the gunboat was with the current; the vessel
approaching, which appeared to be a gunboat also, against it. The
former opened fire again; shots churned up the water around the flying
boat; one carried away the elevator, another shivered the air tractor
into a thousand fragments; and all on board expected every moment that
the little vessel would be sunk or shattered--when suddenly the firing
ceased. The Englishmen looked round eagerly. Their pursuer was
swinging round.
"Hai yah! He wailo!" cried Lo San, springing up and clapping his hands
frantically.
The chase was over.
Quivering with relief from the strain, Errington steered into the bank,
and lay to until the gunboat came up. She carried no colours, but there
were several figures in the bows whose aspect and costume marked them
out unmistakably as Germans. The vessel hove to, and one of the
officers, catching sight of Burroughs, gave a salute and called to him
in German. Burroughs grinned.
"I am an Englishman," he said.
"English!" cried the officer; "but you look not so. You very like a
compatriot. Vat happen?"
Burroughs in his downright way was about to answer, but Errington caught
him by the sleeve, saying--
"Hold hard, old chap."
His quicker mind saw that the Germans would be glad of a pretext for
intervention, and though he had no love for the rebels, he loved the
Germans and their methods less.
"You have been attack by ze pirates?" the officer continued. "If zat is
so, and you give me note demanding assistance, I go up to Meichow, and
land men; zey shall learn----"
"Nothing to speak of, sir," said Errington cheerfully. "They were
having a little firing practice, and we got in the way."
"But surely you vill make complaint!" said the German, his face falling.
"Oh, not at all," replied Errington airily. "We're used to that kind of
thing. It would get 'em into trouble. They're not a bad lot. I believe
this man was one"--with a jerk of the thumb towards Chung Pi--"a jolly
sort of chap, you know."
The officer glanced from one to another of the flying boat's crew;
Burroughs with inscrutable face, Errington with an easy smile, the fat
Chinaman stolid, the two servants unmistakably grinning. He was
puzzled, suspicious; was the Englishman fencing with him? Did he dare
to play with a German?
"Vell, gentlemen," said the officer, now thoroughly irate, "you vill
accompany me to Sui-Fu. I shall report zat my gunboat interrupt to
protect you from ze rebels. You will do me ze honour to step up board."
"It's really very kind of you," said Errington, with a charming smile,
"but we're in a hurry, thank you, and will go down under our own power!"
He cast off, the vessel came into the current, and politely doffing
their hats the Englishmen waved a smiling farewell.
"We're well out of that," said Burroughs.
"Yes," said Errington, "it would hardly do for our little affair to be
made the pretext for a German landing in force and all the rest of it.
It's the very thing they've been looking for. But I say, _would_ you
mind taking off that moustache?"