THE FALL OF NAOCUANHA.
"HEAVY firing, sir," remarked Commander Bourne to his superior
officer.
"You're right," assented Captain and Acting Commodore Staggers. "It's
about time we had a wireless report."
"Nothing has come through yet, sir," said Bourne.
Surrounded by a group of officers Captain Staggers stood upon the
battlements of Fort Belgrano, on the landward side of the town of
Zandovar. Away to the eastward, and only just discernible in the
heated atmosphere, was the city of Naocuanha. Beyond the capital
there was nothing to be seen, save at sunset when the peaks of the
far-distant Sierras showed rosy-pink against the gloom of approaching
night.
"The seaplanes ought to be returning," remarked Captain Staggers for
the sixth time in half an hour. He was unable to conceal an anxiety
for the naval aircraft that, two hours previously, had proceeded to
the assistance of the handicapped "Meteor."
Drawn up just outside the fort was every available man who could be
landed from the fleet: one thousand seamen and five hundred Marines,
with the usual quota of light quick-firers and maxims. Why the men
were there under arms none of them knew; they could only conjecture.
Once again there was work to be done and they meant to do it right
well, to wipe off the slur upon British prestige caused by the
capture of Admiral Maynebrace and his staff.
"Speak to the 'Royal Oak,' Mr. Eccles, and ask if there's any news,"
continued the Captain.
Away doubled the lieutenant to the signalling station, only to return
within five minutes with the disconcerting report that the battleship
had not been able to "pick up" the "Meteor" by wireless.
"Seaplanes returning, sir!" announced the Commander, whose attention
had been drawn to the fact by a petty officer.
"How many?" demanded the Captain abruptly, his anxiety causing him to
drop his customary courtesy.
"Only three, sir."
"Only three? Good heavens! Only three."
Captain Staggers set his jaw firmly. Was he to hear of another
reverse? Where was the "Meteor"--the Dreadnought of the Air? Had she
fallen a victim to the fire of the batteries of Naocuanha?
Flying with mathematical precision the three seaplanes alighted
practically simultaneously upon a level expanse of ground on the
landward side of Fort Belgrano. Under ordinary circumstances
etiquette would demand that the subordinate should approach the
senior officer, but casting observances to the winds Captain
Staggers, holding his scabbard to prevent his sword from impeding his
progress, ran towards the returned airmen.
"Five of the Valderian biplanes destroyed, sir." reported the senior
lieutenant of the air squadron. "All that opposed us. G1 and G3 of
ours are done for. G4 is badly damaged, but her crew are safe."
"And the 'Meteor'?" asked the Captain anxiously.
"Is standing by to the east of Naocuanha, sir. I understand that
there are some British subjects, assisted by a part of the airship's
crew and some of the late President's adherents, holding the
Cavarale. Captain Whittinghame suggests that if an attack be made as
soon as possible, while the Valderian troops are still demoralized by
the destruction of their aircraft, we may be able to capture the
capital without great loss."
"And where is Admiral Maynebrace?"
"I do not know, sir. Captain Whittinghame gave me no information on
that point, so I concluded that he is with the party holding the
Cavarale."
"Gentlemen," said Captain Staggers, turning to his officers who
accompanied him, "I propose to make a reconnaissance in force
immediately, and, if practicable, to deliver an assault upon Fort San
Josef. If our efforts in that direction are successful, we shall hold
the key of the position."
In spite of their protests the officers and crews of the seaplanes
were ordered to stand by. Their places were taken by others who were
fresh to undergo the trying ordeal, and the hard-worked aircraft
having been given a rapid overhaul, they set off on their task of
searching the intervening country in case the Valderians should offer
resistance to the advance of the Naval brigade.
In sections of fours the British force set out on its seven mile
march to Naocuanha, the advance covered by the seaplanes and well
flanked by strong parties of Marines. The railroad had been torn up,
and the rolling-stock destroyed before the evacuation of Zandovar by
the Valderians, but the wide and fairly well-kept road rendered the
advance practicable and speedy.
"'Meteor' heading due north, sir," exclaimed Commander Bourne, as the
huge bulk of the airship, looking little larger than a needle, was
observed to be making off at full speed in the direction the
Commander had stated.
"What's the matter with her, I wonder?" asked Captain Staggers. "I
thought she was to operate on the east side of Naocuanha? By sheering
off she leaves the Valderian troops free to devote the whole of their
attention to us."
"I don't know, sir," replied Bourne, "Perhaps----"
His surmise was never expressed in words, for even as he spoke, the
"Meteor," having put a safe distance between her and the batteries of
the capital, swung round and made for the town of Zandovar.
"Pass the word for the men to halt," ordered the captain, who was
regarding the approaching mammoth with ill-disguised wonderment and
admiration, for in spite of the fact that two hundred odd feet had
been taken from her original length, she still appeared the
embodiment of size, power and speed.
The seamen and Marines grounded arms and watched the Dreadnought of
the Air with the deepest interest. She had spotted the advancing
force, and starboarding her helm was making in the direction of the
column.
Her propellers stopped; she lost way, then, slowly sinking, alighted
on level ground at less than a hundred and fifty yards from the place
where Captain Staggers and his staff were standing.
There was no wind, consequently there was no need to anchor. The
"Meteor," now possessing a dead weight of ten or twelve tons, sat
firmly upon Valderian soil.
"Captain Whittinghame, I presume?" asked the Commodore as he
approached within convenient talking distance of the airship.
"The same," answered Vaughan. "I am in a hurry, sir; I have left
several of my men in an exposed position at the Cavarale, so I must
quickly return. The city of Naocuanha ought to be taken with but
little trouble. Meanwhile, sir, I shall be glad if you will receive
some of my passengers--Rear-Admiral Maynebrace, his staff and
others."
Captain Staggers literally gasped. The fact that his superior had
been rescued by the "Meteor" was quite unexpected news, for he had
misinterpreted Whittinghame's appeal for the seaplanes to be sent to
the airship's aid. Before he could recover from his astonishment the
rope ladder was dropped from the entry-port and the Admiral's burly
form was seen to be slowly descending the swaying means of
communication with terra-firma.
A spontaneous cheer burst from the throats of the men as they saw
their Admiral returned to them. In spite of the slight disappointment
that they were not able to wipe off the slur and retrieve their
commanding officer, the seamen and marines were more than willing to
recognize the excellent work accomplished by the Dreadnought of the
Air.
"Will you continue the advance, sir?" asked Captain Staggers, after
the Admiral and his staff, the two Frenchmen, and the two men of the
trader had descended.
"Certainly," replied Admiral Maynebrace. "There's nothing like
striking while the iron's hot. That airship wiped out Fort Volador by
a single charge of explosive. And there's news, Staggers, but I'll
tell you later. Look, the 'Meteor' is ascending."
With the least possible delay the airship returned to continue her
self-imposed task of threatening the city on the eastern side; while
the naval brigade resumed its march.
Having received from Captain Staggers the plan of operations and duly
approved his subordinate's dispositions for the attack, Rear-Admiral
Maynebrace started a breezy narrative of his captivity in the
Cavarale.
"And one day I was surprised to see an Englishman enter my cell. That
man was Dacres."
"Dacres?" echoed Captain Staggers, completely taken aback. "Dacres in
the Valderian service?" For, although the name of Captain Vaughan
Whittinghame had been communicated to the officers of the squadron
operating off the Valderian coast, the Admiralty had given no
information to the effect that ex-Sub-lieutenant Dacres formed one of
the "Meteor's" complement.
"Yes, Dacres," declared Admiral Maynebrace. But not in the Valderian
service--far from it. The youngster managed to get hold of an
appointment under Captain Whittinghame. At considerable risk he
managed to communicate with me. Later on the airship landed a handful
of her crew under Dacres' command in the Cavarale in the dead of
night. They overpowered the garrison, rescued the British officers
and sent them off in the 'Meteor'."
"Capital!" ejaculated the Captain.
"More than that--it shows Dacres' devotion--the 'Meteor' being unable
to take us all, he volunteered to remain in the captured prison with
his men, and by a cool piece of work he made a prisoner of----"
"The commandante of the Cavarale?" hazarded Captain Staggers.
"Yes, and President Zaypuru as well," added Admiral Maynebrace
enthusiastically. "Staggers, I made a great mistake when I told young
Dacres to send in his papers. We must have him back."
"We must, sir," said the Captain of the "Royal Oak" wholeheartedly.
"That is, if he's agreeable. Dacres always appeared to me to be
rather independent."
"Wish to goodness he hadn't played that practical joke on my
midshipmen," growled Admiral Maynebrace.
Further conversation was for the time being out of the question, for
the brigade was now almost within range of the batteries of
Naocuanha.
A strange silence seemed to hang over the capital. There were no
signs of movement. Through the field-glasses of the British officers
Naocuanha appeared to be a city of the dead. There was not the
slightest indication of an attempt about to be made by the superiorly
numerical Valderian troops to dispute the advance.
"Wish those beggars would start firing," muttered the Admiral. "A
silence like that seems suggestive of an ambuscade. Any report from
the seaplanes?"
"G2 and G6 both report no signs of the batteries being manned, sir,"
announced Lieutenant Eccles.
"Then continue the advance in open order. Maxims in the centre, and
quick-firers to cover the advance on either flank. What a rotten
country, Staggers! Not a particle of cover."
Silently the attackers extended, then with six feet separating one
man from another, the bluejackets and marines approached the frowning
walls of Fort San Josef.
Suddenly a succession of short reports burst from seaplane G5. She
had opened fire upon some object, still invisible to the attackers on
the remote side of the fort.
For quite half a minute there was no reply from the Valderian
position; then right and left came the sharp crackle of musketry
punctuated by the bark of quick-firers.
Taking a prone position on the grass the British seamen and marines
opened a steady fire upon their unseen foes, while the covering guns
sent shell after shell into Fort San Josef, over which floated the
flag of the republic.
"What's that?" asked Admiral Maynebrace as a report received from G6
was handed to him. "Fort San Josef evacuated? Tell the quick-firers
to search the ground to the right and left and not waste time and
ammunition on an empty building. By Jove! what's the matter with G5?"
He might well ask that question, for the seaplane was descending with
alarming rapidity and apparently right upon the Valderian position.
The attackers, seeing her glide earthwards, promptly directed their
fire elsewhere, but the devoted G5 was plunging through the zone of
fire of the enemy.
"She's disabled, sir," exclaimed Captain Staggers. "Look, there she
goes."
The seaplane disappeared behind Fort San Josef. Her two consorts,
disdainful of the fate which had overtaken her, still flew serenely
over the Valderian lines, occasionally dropping bombs, but more
frequently reporting the effect of the fire of the British
field-guns.
"What's that?" demanded Captain Staggers, grasping his superior
officer's arm in his eagerness. "Look, sir, at the fort."
Standing upon the ramparts and showing clearly against the skyline
was a man in naval uniform. Rapidly he uncleated the halliards of the
flagstaff and hauled down the Valderian flag. Then, even as he waved
his white-covered cap in triumph, he suddenly pitched forward on his
face and rolled inertly down the steep face of the earthworks.
"It's Vine, the pilot of G5, sir," said Bourne.
Enraged by the lieutenant's fall the attackers implored the officers
to be allowed to storm the position. The men were like hounds in
leash, eager to vent their fury upon their foes.
But Admiral Maynebrace hesitated. The significance of Fort San Josef
offering no active resistance was ominous.
Up dashed a sub-lieutenant.
"G2 reports safe to advance, sir," he said.
"Fort San Josef is mined, but G5 destroyed the firing station and has
cut the wires."
The Admiral hesitated no longer. Along the line the officers'
whistles sounded the advance. Up from the cover afforded by the grass
sprang hundreds of figures in khaki and blue. A regular clatter
followed the order to fix bayonets, and at the double the gallant men
raced towards their goal.
In spite of the covering fire from the British guns the Valderian
troops to the right and left of the deserted fort maintained a hot
fusillade. Enfiladed by the converging volleys the British suffered
severely, the ground being dotted with dead and dying. Yet,
undaunted, the stormers passed on, threw themselves into the dry
ditch, and clambered up the steep ramp beyond. The more active of the
attackers assisted those who experienced difficulty in negotiating
the slippery slope. Marines and bluejackets, without any apparent
semblance of order, vied with each other in the race to gain
possession of the coveted position, till a ringing British cheer
announced to the Admiral and his staff that Fort San Josef was in the
occupation of his gallant men.
While the Union Jack was hoisted over the captured position, the
bluejackets rushed to the guns to turn them upon the Valderian troops
who had so severely galled the advance; but to their disappointment
and rage they discovered that the breech-blocks had previously been
removed.
In spite of the danger from the hostile bullets that were singing
over the earthworks a signalman stood erect and semaphored for the
guns to be brought up.
Two brawny bluejackets, each staggering under the weight of a Maxim,
successfully crossed the danger-zone, while four man-hauled
quick-firers were ordered to the fort.
At the double the guns were dragged across the open plain. Several of
the men at the drag-ropes fell, but, undaunted, their comrades
maintained the hot pace. The dry-ditch they made light of. In twenty
seconds each gun was unlimbered and dismantled. The lighter parts,
passed from hand to hand, were taken up the ramp; the heavier gear,
hauled by willing hands, quickly followed.
To the tap, tap, tap of the Maxims was added the sharp bark of the
quick-firers, and, swept by the hail of projectiles, the Valderian
troops bolted precipitately. Outside the city they could not go, for
hovering overhead was the "Meteor," and the fate of Fort Volador was
still fresh in the minds of the beaten side.
At exactly three o'clock--one hour and twenty minutes from the
opening of the assault--the city of Naocuanha surrendered at
discretion.