THE CAPTURE OF THE CAVARALE.
HALF an hour later Henri opened his eyes. He looked about him for
nearly a minute, then bravely attempted to rise.
Dacres heard him muttering in French but could not distinguish the
words.
"The horse," he murmured, pointing with his uninjured hand to the
animal that was still standing quietly browsing by its dead master.
"All right," said Dacres soothingly. "I'll see about that later on.
Drink some of this water."
The young Frenchman gratefully accepted the proffered bottle, but
steadfastly refused to drink more than a very small quantity.
"I feel much better now," he said. "Am I hurt very much? The rogue
was too quick for me."
"It's not dangerous," answered Dacres. Neither was it. Nevertheless,
should complications ensue owing to the lack of proper medical
attention the result might easily prove to be fatal but for the
present all that could be done was to cheer his wounded comrade and
persuade him to attempt to continue his toilsome journey.
"How goes it?" asked Dacres, having assisted Henri to his feet.
"I feel so: my head goes round and round, but I shall be all right
soon. Try to catch the horse," he persisted.
"Suppose I must tackle the brute, if it's only to humour Henri,"
thought Dacres, then, with considerable misgiving, he approached the
animal.
Greatly to his agreeable surprise he found that the horse allowed
itself to be quietly led away from its former master. The change of
ownership did not seem to matter so long as the animal had a human
being to assert his authority.
The knowledge that the food supply was running short, prompted Dacres
to examine the bodies of the slain Indians in the hope of finding
something in their possession that would sustain him and his
companion; but he was disappointed.
"Are you fit to make a start?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Henri.
"Then I'll lift you on to the horse's back."
"But you?" objected de la Fosse. "We can both ride."
"Thanks, I won't risk it," said Dacres emphatically. "If I fell off I
might drag you with me. I'm game for another forty miles, I think; so
let me give you a heave up."
Walking by the animal's side the Englishman set a steady pace, his
face still towards the seemingly elusive Sierras. The heat was now
terrific, and although Henri bore himself bravely, he suffered
agonies.
Shortly after noon the travellers came across a small stream. This
was indeed good fortune. The water-bottle was refilled, the horse
watered, and additional wet bandages placed over Henri's wounds;
while Dacres stripped and revelled in the comparatively cool stream.
"I think I know where we are," said de la Fosse. "This river flows
through San Carlos and La Paz. We ought to be within ten kilometres
of the road my father and I were following when we saw the two
airships."
"In that case we ought to reach the 'Meteor' before to-night," said
Dacres reassuringly, but in his mind he had grave doubts. The terrors
of the mountain pass loomed largely in his imagination. Burdened by a
wounded comrade the passage would be hazardous in the extreme.
Buoyed up with hope Henri was impatient to resume the journey, and
Dacres, willing to humour him, complied. But the young Frenchman's
physical strength was not equal to his mental powers, for within an
hour of leaving the river he suddenly fell forward in a dead faint.
Dacres caught him before he fell to the ground, then, lowering him
gently, he rested his comrade's head on a mound, at the same time
sheltering the luckless man from the fierce rays of the sun.
To the Englishman's dismay the horse, hitherto quiet, reared, then
galloped off at full speed. The reason for the stampede was not
difficult to see; at less than a mile off were the Indians,
reinforced till they numbered thrice the original band.
Dacres was one of those men who see and enlarge upon perils a long
way ahead. Perhaps it was natural caution. But the sudden appearance
of the swarm of natives simply roused the British bull-dog spirit
within him. He was metaphorically about to fight with his back
against the wall, although actually there was nothing to protect him
from a rear attack.
Carefully he drew Henri's revolver from his holster, opened the
breech and assured himself that the six chambers were loaded. Then,
placing the remainder of the cartridges on the ground within easy
reach, he knelt with a revolver in each hand, ready to open fire.
Again the attackers prepared to execute their enveloping tactics.
They were now within two hundred yards.
"Come on, you brutes!" shouted Dacres furiously. "Come on, and have a
jolly good thrashing."
The possibility of being wiped out never entered his mind. He was now
a fighter who "saw red."
A yell burst from the horsemen; then, simultaneously, the whole crowd
broke into a gallop, the hoofs of the horses making a terrific din
upon the hard ground.
Suddenly, just as the attack was about to split into two sections,
one of the men reined in his horse, almost pulling it on its
haunches. He pointed towards the sky, with fear and astonishment
written plainly on his dark brown features.
The next moment the Indians had turned tail and were riding for dear
life.
Dacres looked over his shoulder, half expecting to have fallen out of
the frying-pan into the fire, and that the cause of the panic was the
approach of a body of Valderian roughriders.
But to his astonishment and delight he beheld the "Meteor" flying at
full speed and momentarily looming up larger and larger.
Dacres sprang to his feet and emptied both revolvers at his
retreating foes. They were already out of range, but the shots served
to attract the attention of the airship in case Whittinghame had not
yet sighted his absent comrade.
Five minutes later the "Meteor"--still gigantic in spite of the fact
that she had been shortened by two hundred feet--alighted upon the
grassy plain The instant the rope-ladder was dropped men hastened to
the assistance of Dacres and his stricken friend, foremost amongst
them being Whittinghame and Antoine de la Fosse.
"My son--is he dead?" asked the elder Frenchman, who was almost
beside himself with anxiety.
"No; he's fainted," replied Dacres. "He'll be all right directly
Hambrough takes him in hand."
Quickly the crew of the "Meteor" rigged up a rigid stretcher, and
upon this, lashed on to prevent him from slipping, Henri de la Fosse
was taken on board the airship. As soon as the rest of the officers
and men were embarked the Dreadnought of the Air rose to a height of
ten thousand feet.
"Well?" asked Whittinghame with his characteristic brevity when
asking a question.
"It's all right up to the present, sir," said Dacres. "Your brother
is safe and so is Admiral Maynebrace. I've seen them both. It is
essential that we should attempt their rescue at three o'clock Friday
morning."
In spite of his efforts to suppress it, Dacres gave a prodigious
yawn.
"Excuse me," he continued, "but I've had no sleep for nearly forty
hours and precious little food."
"Then, make a good meal," said Whittinghame, "and have a sound sleep.
There's plenty of time before the day and hour you mention. When
you've told your story we'll lay our plans--no, not now. I refuse to
hear another word till you have eaten and slept."
The appearance of the "Meteor" in the very nick of time was not a
coincidence. As soon as Antoine de la Fosse had set the wireless
apparatus in order a message came through from Whittinghame's secret
agent at Naocuanha to the effect that two Europeans, posing as
electrical engineers, had escaped from the city by taking forcible
possession of a locomotive. Directly Whittinghame heard this he
ordered the final work of assembling the four remaining sections of
the "Meteor" to be carried out with the utmost celerity; but before
the ballonettes could be recharged, another "wireless" was received
announcing that the locomotive had been derailed after having been
the means of destroying two of the Valderian air-fleet. It was
supposed that the fugitives had escaped since there were no traces of
their bodies under the wreckage.
"They've outwitted the rascals, de la Fosse," exclaimed the Captain
when he received the news. "Trust Dacres to wriggle out of a tight
corner. He'll see that your son comes through this business, too.
Now, where do you think they'll make for?"
"Not to the south side of the line, monsieur le capitaine; Henrie has
too much sense to go to our home. He will doubtless lead Monsieur
Dacres across the plain to the south."
"Very well; we'll make a search," decided Whittinghame.
Thus the "Meteor," the damage having been made good as far as
possible, set out on her voyage of investigation. Keeping at a great
altitude she passed within ten miles of La Paz and shaped a course
parallel to the railway till almost abreast of the place where the
engine was derailed. Then, by a pure chance, the crew "spotted" the
bodies of the Indians and their horses who had fallen in the first
encounter.
Descending they made a careful search, and Dacres' trail as he led
the captured horse was picked up across an expanse of bare ground.
The general direction was followed by the "Meteor" till the alert
look-out saw the Indians about to charge down upon the Englishman and
his unconscious comrade.
For the next twenty-four hours the "Meteor" remained at a height of
ten thousand feet, drifting with the light air current towards the
Sierras. Whittinghame did not mean to anticipate the time arranged by
his brother for the arrival of the airship at the Cavarale. For one
thing he wished Dacres to be as fit as possible after his arduous
experiences. He also was influenced by the fact that quietude was
essential to Henri de la Fosse, if he were to be saved from an attack
of fever following his wounds.
Whittinghame would have landed the patient and his father but for the
fact that, in consequence of the affair at the Cavarale it would not
be safe for the Frenchman to risk a meeting with any of the Valderian
troops. As for Gaston he was miles away from the seat of war, and
would not be in any danger, at least, for some considerable time. Ere
that Whittinghame proposed to embark him and take the reunited family
on board the "Meteor" when she started on her homeward voyage.
As soon as the sun set the "Meteor," still keeping at a great height,
started on her run to the outskirts of Naocuanha. There was plenty of
time, since the actual attempt to rescue the prisoners was not to
commence till one in the morning.
Fortunately the night was dark. The stars were obscured; the
searchlights of the capital were directed solely towards the seaport
of Zandovar, for the garrison was in hourly dread of a surprise
attack on the part of the British seamen and marines.
Shortly after midnight the "Meteor" arrived above the city of
Naocuanha--unseen and unsuspected. The capital was at her mercy. Had
Whittinghame wished he could have dropped powerful charges of
explosives upon the buildings, but the idea of taking a mean
advantage did not commend itself to his chivalrous instincts.
At 12.30 Dacres with Callaghan and ten of the crew entered No. 5
compartment. They were fully armed, while in addition a supply of
short cords and two sponges saturated with chloroform were provided.
"All ready?" asked Whittinghame.
"Ay, ay, sir."
A metallic clang echoed through the after-section. The bolt action
had been unlocked and No. 5 compartment was no longer joined to the
remaining three divisions.
Slowly the ultra-hydrogen was pumped out of several of the
ballonettes, and gently the independent division sank towards the
earth.
Stationed at an open flap in the floor, Dacres "conned" the
descending part of the airship under his command. Once or twice it
was necessary to start the motors to bring the two hundred odd feet
of gas-bag immediately over the rectangular courtyard of the
Cavarale.
By the aid of his night-glasses Dacres could distinguish the outlines
of the prison with tolerable ease. Nevertheless, every moment of the
descent was one of suspense.
At any instant the huge overhead bulk might be seen by an alert
sentry. In that case a bomb was to be thrown into the soldiers'
quarters, and profiting by the confusion the airship was to descend
as fast as possible and let loose her armed crew upon the terrified
garrison; but only in case of extreme necessity were explosives to be
used.
Only five hundred feet more. Perfect silence reigned below, while the
only sound that came from No. 5 section was the laboured breathing of
the twelve men as they strove with their pent-up feelings.
"Sentry!" whispered Callaghan pointing to a motionless figure on the
wall nearest to the city.
Dacres nodded. He would not trust himself to speak.
Four hundred feet.
Suddenly a light flashed from one of the towers, and a number of men,
one of them carrying a lantern, emerged and marched along the broad
flat roof. "Rounds, by Jove!" gasped Dacres, then springing to the
emergency switch controlling the supply of ultra-hydrogen and the
ballonettes, he thrust it down.
The hiss of compressed air that followed seemed to the crew loud
enough to arouse the whole garrison. Simultaneously the downward
movement was checked and the section leapt quickly to a height of a
thousand feet.
"Keep her there," ordered Dacres, then, glass in hand, he returned to
his post of observation. Thank heavens the visiting rounds had
neither heard nor seen the danger that threatened them. The crew
could catch the sibilant challenge of the sentry as the soldiers
approached his post. Having satisfied themselves that all was well,
the rounds passed on to the next sentry, and so on till they had
completed a tour of the walls. Then, descending to the courtyard by a
flight of steps, the party crossed the _patio_ and disappeared within
the guard-room.
"We'll wait another half-hour," said Dacres. "Perhaps by that time
the sentries will not be on the alert."
"Very good, sir," replied Callaghan. "I've tumbled across South
American soldiers before now, and, between you and me, sir, they
ain't up to much."
"Cap'n coming alongside, sir," reported one of the crew as coolly as
if announcing the approach of the captain's gig towards a man-of-war.
Silently the major part of the "Meteor" glided within fifty feet of
No. 5 section.
"What are you waiting for?" demanded Whittinghame.
"We saw the rounds were out, sir," replied Dacres.
"Oh, all right. I thought perhaps that something had gone wrong with
the exhaust pumps."
"Oh, no; they are working most splendidly," announced Dacres. "We've
decided to wait till the sentries quiet down after being visited by
the rounds."
"Do you think you could do better by descending about a mile from the
prison and scaling the walls?" asked the Captain.
"The difficulty would be to get the rescued prisoners to the airship,
sir; I think we had better stick to our original plans."
"Very good," was Whittinghame's only comment.
Slowly the minutes sped, till Dacres, shutting the case of his watch
with an emphatic snap, gave the order to descend.
Far below the glimmer of a match told its own tale. One of the
sentries was lighting a cigarette.
"Look out," whispered Callaghan. "Blest if the four of 'em aren't
altogether. That's a bit of all right."
The quarter-master spoke truly. Three of the Valderian soldiers had
deserted their posts and had joined the one stationed on the west
wall--that nearest to the city.
"Silly asses!" ejaculated Dacres "they are playing into our hands."
The four men were apparently having a friendly argument. More
cigarettes were produced and lighted. Then after a short interval the
sentries entered one of the towers and shut the door leading on to
the roof. A gleam on the stonework told the aerial watchers that the
unsuspecting soldiers had lit a lantern.
Two hundred--one hundred and fifty feet.
No. 5 section was now barely twenty feet above the walls and
immediately over the courtyard. Her fabric, dimly illuminated by the
distant searchlights, could not have escaped the notice of the
sentries had they been at their posts.
Dacres now felt tolerably certain of success. Even had the sentries
emerged from their unauthorized place of shelter the sudden
transition from artificial light to the darkness of the night would
have prevented them from seeing anything for at least half a minute.
With a slight tremor the detached portion of the "Meteor" alighted
fairly equidistant from the encircling wall. Quickly Dacres and eight
men descended and anchored the craft by means of ropes secured to the
railings surrounding the _patio_.
Silently the adventurers followed their leader up the outside flight
of stone steps on to the roof. Twenty yards farther on was the tower
in which the faithless sentries were skulking.
Dacres looked through the narrow space formed by the door being ajar.
The four Valderians were standing around an upturned barrel on which
stood a candle. The men were deep in a game of faro, peering through
the smoky atmosphere with eyes intent only upon the cards which were
being thrown upon the impromptu table.
Signing to his men to approach, Dacres held up his revolver.
"Now," he exclaimed.
Pushing open the door he entered, following by his men.
For a moment the Valderians could not credit their senses. They
stared stupidly down the muzzles of half a dozen revolvers. The cards
dropped from their nerveless fingers, their winnings clattered on the
floor. At the same time the candle toppled over and went out, leaving
the room illuminated only by a lantern set in one corner.
Then one of the soldiers raised both hands above his head. His
companions followed his example with surprising celerity. Without
uttering a sound they tamely surrendered.
"Secure them," ordered Dacres.
In a trice the four trustworthy sentries were gagged and bound hand
and foot. The knots were tied as only seamen know how: there was
little fear of the prisoners being able to slip their bonds; while to
prevent them from moving to each other's assistance each Valderian's
rifle was lashed to his legs by cords above the knees and round the
ankles. The captives were as helpless as logs of wood, and incapable
of uttering a sound.
"Now for the guard-room," whispered Dacres.
This building, situated in one corner of the courtyard, could be
gained either by descending the steps leading to the roof of the
buildings abutting on the outer wall, or else by a covered way
communicating with the quarters occupied by the rest of the troops.
The first was the only practicable way for the British airship's men
to tackle the guard; but the great danger now was that should any of
the soldiers on duty escape into the living-rooms by means of the
covered gallery all chances of a complete surprise would be lost.
The guard-room was roughly furnished. There was a long table on which
stood several empty wine glasses. Round the walls were wooden forms
on which two men were sitting. Half a dozen more, including the
serjeant, were lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets. In a rack
close to the door were the rifles of the soldiers on duty.
Without hesitation Dacres and his men rushed as quietly as they could
into the guard-room and planted themselves between the arms-rack and
the surprised Valderians.
One of the latter, more daring than his comrades, made a dash for the
farther door communicating with the men's quarters. Before he could
open it Callaghan struck him on the temple with his clenched fist.
The fellow dropped like a felled ox, the Irishman catching him ere
his body flopped noisily upon the floor.
This slight commotion was sufficient to arouse the sleeping soldiers.
"Surrender or we shoot!" ordered Callaghan in the execrable Spanish
he had picked up during a three years' commission in Gibraltar
dockyard.
Without hesitation the men threw up their arms.
"Now what's to be done with this lot, sir?" asked the Irishman. "We
can't waste time lashing 'em up."
Dacres saw that the windows were small and heavily barred, and that
the locks on the door were strong.
"Remove the bolts of those rifles," he ordered. "Now, Callaghan, tell
these men that if they attempt to escape or utter a sound we'll make
it hot for them."
This the Irishman did, uttering threats that he had learned from the
Scorps of the Rock which, judging by the speaker's ferocious
gestures, struck terror into the hearts of the cowardly Valderians.
They vowed compliance with such vehemence that they had to be told to
keep silence lest the noise should alarm the rest of the garrison of
the prison. Locking both doors and taking possession of the keys,
Dacres led his men towards the barrack-quarters where the remainder
of the rank and file--thirty all told--were asleep.
Now it was that Dacres' knowledge of the plan of the buildings was
put to good account. He knew that underneath was a large storeroom,
to which the only means of access was by a trap-door in the corridor
outside the barrack-room. Once the soldiers could be forced into this
semi-dungeon they would be incapable of doing any mischief.
The room was in darkness. A delay ensued till one of the "Meteor's"
men took down a lantern that was hanging in the covered way.
"Two at a time," whispered Dacres, pointing to the triple line of
sleeping men who were stretched in various attitudes on straw
palliasses on the floor.
The first two sleepers were rudely awakened to find their arms and
legs pinioned and a horny hand over their mouths. Incapable of
resistance they were carried to the top of the ladder leading to the
cellar, then fiercely threatened by the huge Irishman they were
compelled to descend into utter darkness.
Twenty Valderians were served this way, when one fellow managed to
give vent to a terrific yell, at the same time gripping with his
powerful teeth the hand that strove to stifle his cry of alarm.
Instantly the remaining soldiers were awake, but being unarmed, they
saw the uselessness of resistance. Without further trouble they were
made to join their comrades in the underground cellar.
Without loss of life on either side, the Cavarale was in possession
of the crew of the "Meteor."