Chudleigh Park was an estate of some fourteen hundred acres in extent,
situate, as has already been mentioned, in the most picturesque part of
Devon. It had been acquired by Sir Reginald Elphinstone about six years
before, just prior to his marriage, the area at that time consisting
chiefly of moorland, of so hilly and broken a character that it could
scarcely be cultivated profitably, although for Sir Reginald's purpose
it was everything that could possibly be desired. Having secured the
land, a site was chosen on a sheltered hillside, overlooking a long
stretch of beautiful valley, through which a fine trout stream
picturesquely meandered; and here, under the superintendence of an
eminent architect, a charming mansion, fitted with every luxury and
convenience of modern life, was erected, the entire estate being
meanwhile laid out to the best advantage by a skilled landscape
gardener, who, with the aid of quite an army of underlings, eventually
so completely changed the aspect of the locality that it became one of
the most lovely and picturesque little bits of landscape to be found
within the confines of the British Isles.
It was about a month after the date of the meeting of Sir Reginald and
the professor, recorded in the preceding chapter, that, late in the
afternoon, the baronet, with his wife and their little daughter,
descended the short flight of broad steps that gave access to the chief
entrance of their stately mansion, built in the Elizabethan style of
architecture, and began to saunter slowly to and fro along the spacious
terrace that graced the front of the building, the weather happening to
be of that delightfully mild and genial character which occasionally in
our capricious British climate renders the early spring the most
charming period of the year.
From the frequent glances cast by the trio along the valley--through
which a splendid carriage-drive wound its way beside the brawling
stream--one might have guessed that they were expecting the arrival of
visitors. And indeed shortly afterwards two vehicles appeared round the
shoulder of a hill far down the valley, which, as they rapidly
approached, resolved themselves into a smart dog-cart drawn by a tandem
team of thoroughbred bays and driven by an upright soldier-like figure
in a tweed travelling suit, with a groom occupying the back seat, and an
equally smart game-cart loaded with baggage.
"Here they come!" exclaimed Sir Reginald, as, turning in their walk, the
trio first caught sight of the rapidly approaching vehicle. "At least,
here comes _one_ of them," he corrected himself, "and that one
undoubtedly Lethbridge; there is no mistaking that figure for any other
than that of a soldier! But where is Mildmay, I wonder? I hope no
hitch has occurred in the arrangements!"
"I sincerely hope not," agreed Lady Olivia--a lovely brunette, with a
rather tall, superbly moulded figure that yet looked _petite_ beside her
husband's lofty stature. "I shall be supremely sorry if, after all,
Captain Mildmay finds himself unable to join us."
"Yes," assented the baronet. "But I do not anticipate anything quite so
unfortunate as that. My worst fears point to nothing more serious than
a certain amount of delay. However, we shall soon know; for I dare say
Lethbridge will be able to tell us something about him."
A few minutes later the dog-cart came rattling up the gentle slope of
the winding drive, and pulled up at the foot of the broad flight of
stone steps that led up to the terrace. The groom dropped lightly to
the ground, and ran nimbly to the leader's head. The tall,
soldierly-looking figure divested himself of the rug that covered his
knees, and, alighting from the vehicle, made his way slowly up the
steps, at the top of which his host and hostess awaited him.
The newcomer was Cyril Lethbridge, late a colonel in the Royal
Engineers, but now retired from the service. He had been a successful
gold-seeker in his time, a mighty hunter, a daring explorer--in short,
an adventurer, in the highest and least generally accepted form of the
term. He had also been one of the quartette of adventurous spirits who
formed the working crew of the _Flying Fish_ in her first two
extraordinary cruises, and was therefore an old and staunch comrade of
Sir Reginald Elphinstone, and an equally staunch, though more recent,
friend of Lady Elphinstone, whose acquaintance he had first made some
six years before under startling and extraordinary circumstances. He
was a man in the very prime of life; tall, and with a very fair share of
good looks--although certainly not so handsome a man as his friend the
baronet--upright as a dart, and, when in his normal state of health,
singularly robust of frame; but now, as he slowly mounted the broad, yet
easy, flight of steps, there was a perceptible languor of movement and a
general gauntness of visage and figure that told an unmistakable tale of
very recent illness. Nevertheless, his eye was bright, and his voice
strong and cheery, as he returned the greetings of his friends on the
terrace, and replied to their inquiries as to his comfort during the
long journey from town.
"But where is Mildmay?" inquired Sir Reginald at length, as the party
turned to enter the house. "How is it that he is not with you?"
"He is with von Schalckenberg," answered the colonel. "When we met last
night at the Migrants', to make our final arrangements for to-day, we
came to the conclusion that for the professor to go alone in search of
the _Flying Fish_ would entail upon him a great deal of unnecessary
trouble and labour--although von Schalckenberg himself would not admit
it--and therefore Mildmay determined to accompany him. So they arranged
to meet at Waterloo this morning, and to run down to Portsmouth by the
eleven fifteen, which is a fast train, you know; and I have no doubt
that they are at this moment engaged in getting the bearings of the
_Flying Fish_, in readiness to descend to her as soon as the darkness
has set in sufficiently to conceal their movements from too curious
eyes. And if the staunch old craft is in the perfect condition that von
Schalckenberg anticipates, we shall probably have them with us by ten
o'clock or thereabouts."
"Ah!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, "that is just the point about which I
cannot help feeling apprehensive. Do you think, Colonel, that it will
be quite safe to trust ourselves to a ship that has been lying all these
years neglected and uncared for at the bottom of the English Channel?"
The colonel shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not?" he demanded with a smile. "No possible harm could happen to
her, so far as I can see, beyond the penetration of a certain amount of
dampness into her interior. But even that the professor will not admit.
He insists that all the openings in the vessel's hull were so carefully
made and accurately fitted as to be absolutely impervious to damp, much
less to any more serious influx of moisture. And, as to her machinery,
the good man declares that, with the precautions that he took for its
preservation when she went out of commission, it ought to remain in
perfect working order for at least a hundred years."
"Well, we shall soon know, shall we not?" remarked the lady.
"Meanwhile, Colonel, you must come and have a cup of tea before you go
to your room. I remember your weakness for tea, you see; and a cup will
refresh you after your journey."
Dinner at Chudleigh Hall that night was a very quiet, unostentatious
function; for the numerous guests that were usually to be found beneath
its hospitable roof had now gone their various ways, and Lady Olivia
had, of course, at once ceased to issue further invitations as soon as
the projected expedition had been finally determined upon. The party,
therefore, consisted merely of Sir Reginald, Lady Olivia, and the
colonel; and when Lady Olivia rose from the table the two men merely
dallied over their wine long enough to smoke a cigar, and then rejoined
her in the drawing-room.
It was then about half-past nine o'clock--time for Sir Reginald and the
colonel to set out, if they wished to witness the arrival of the _Flying
Fish_--and the baronet was altogether of too courteous and hospitable a
nature to allow his expected friends to arrive at their destination, and
make their way to the Hall unwelcomed. The two men, therefore, after
swallowing their coffee, sallied forth into the park, and strolled off
in the direction of the spot where it had been arranged that the ship
should come to earth.
This was a level, open glade, some ten acres in extent, completely
surrounded and hemmed in by noble forest trees, at a distance of about a
mile from the house; it was the only part of the estate that had been
fully wooded when it came into Sir Reginald's hands, and the trees were
consequently full-grown, thus affording perfect concealment for the huge
and marvellous fabric that was expected so shortly to make her
appearance on the spot. A carriage-drive led through it; but Sir
Reginald and his friend took a short cut through the quaintly arranged
old English garden that lay at the back of the house.
Arrived at the glade, the two friends settled themselves comfortably
upon a rustic seat, and chatted animatedly upon the prospects of their
forthcoming adventure, as they waited the appearance of the _Flying
Fish_. Nor had they to wait very long. They had scarcely been seated
twenty minutes when Sir Reginald, who had kept his gaze fixed steadily
skyward, exclaimed--
"Ah, there they are at last!"
And his companion, glancing in the direction indicated by the baronet,
was just able to see, far up, as it seemed among the stars, a dim, misty
shape that, even as he looked, grew rapidly in bulk and in distinctness
of form as it descended from aloft, until it became an enormous
cigar-shaped structure of such gigantic dimensions that it seemed
doubtful whether there would be space enough in the glade to accommodate
it. This appearance, however, was to a certain extent delusive, due no
doubt to the semi-obscurity of the starlit night, for when at length it
came to earth, lightly as a snowflake, it was seen that there was
abundance of room for it.
The moment that it had fairly settled down, Sir Reginald and the colonel
rose to their feet and sauntered toward it; but they were still several
yards from it when suddenly two figures emerged from the deep obscurity
under the flying ship's bottom, each carrying a small travelling bag.
One figure, short and stout, was instantly recognisable as that of the
genial Professor von Schalckenberg; while the other, taller, yet of a
sturdy build and an easy swinging carriage, that bespoke the athlete and
the sailor, was, with equal ease, identified as Captain Edward Mildmay,
R.N.
The friends shook hands heartily, and the newcomers handed over their
bags to George, the baronet's valet--who at that moment mysteriously
appeared upon the scene--as Sir Reginald inquired--
"Well, gentlemen, how have you managed? and in what condition did you
find the old ship after her long submersion at the bottom of the Hurd
Deep?"
"Oh!" answered the professor, "we managed well enough. We reached
Portsmouth at three o'clock, and found the boat all ready for us--that
man, Sparshott, who has had the care of her, is a really good man, and a
thoroughly discreet fellow--so we at once got on board and made our way
very soberly out of Portsmouth harbour, not putting on the speed until
we were well clear of all observation. We cut ourselves rather too
fine, however, in the matter of time, not arriving at our destination
until it was nearly dark; consequently we had some difficulty in finding
our bearings, and at one moment I almost feared that we should have to
defer our search until morning. But at length, just as we were
seriously thinking of giving it up for the night, a lucky cast of the
lead showed us to be immediately over the ship; so I at once donned my
diving-dress, went down, turned on my electric light, and found myself
within half a dozen fathoms of the _Flying Fish_. After that,
everything was easy. I opened the trap-door in her bottom without the
slightest difficulty, entered the chamber, expelled all the water, and
passed into the diving-room, which I found absolutely dry. Then I
divested myself of my diving-suit, entered the engine-room, and
forthwith proceeded to charge the generator from the reserve stock of
crystals which we had left on board. Everything was looking exactly as
we left it six years ago; there was not a sign of damp discoverable
anywhere; and the only objectionable thing noticeable was that the air
in the hull smelt decidedly stale and offensive. However, I soon had
vapour enough generated to start the dynamo, when I switched on the
light in the pilot-house lantern, as a warning to Mildmay to get out of
the way; after which I slowly ejected the water from the water chambers,
and rose very gently to the surface. Then, throwing open the door of
the pilot-house--and so letting some fresh air into the hull--I went out
on deck to look for Mildmay, and immediately fell heavily to the deck,
which I found completely covered with a thick growth of slippery
sea-grass. Ach, my friends, I reproach myself that I did not think of
and guard against that when we sank the _Flying Fish_ to the bottom for
her long rest, six years ago! But I am only human, you see, after all;
I have not yet acquired the gift of thinking of everything. It is a
trifle, however, and I will soon put it right to-morrow. Well, I found
the trap-door in the deck, despite the sea-grass, opened it with some
little difficulty, raised the davits into position, and dropped the
tackles into the boat which Mildmay had by this time brought alongside,
and in a few minutes we had that boat hoisted up and stowed away. By
this time there was vapour enough in the generator to move the engines,
so we created a partial vacuum, rising in the air to a height of about a
thousand feet, after which we wended our way hither, finding the spot
without difficulty, thanks to the light displayed in the tower of your
house. And--here we are."
The next three days were devoted to the shipping and storing away of the
enormous quantity of stores of all kinds which Sir Reginald had ordered
for the voyage. This brought the time up to Saturday evening, it being
about 6:30 p.m., when George, and the chef who was to have charge of the
kitchen on board, reported that the last case had been conveyed on board
the _Flying Fish_, and stowed away. There was, of course, no reason why
a start should not now have been immediately effected; but, as the
completion of the arrangements had brought them so very close to Sunday,
Lady Olivia expressed a wish that the departure of the expedition should
be deferred until the following Monday, in order that she might have an
opportunity to attend one more service at the quiet little parish church
close at hand. The wish, of course, had but to be expressed to meet the
ready acquiescence of the other members of the party, and, accordingly,
they all with one consent appeared at the church on Sunday morning; the
afternoon being devoted to a final visit to, and inspection of, the
_Flying Fish_, with the twofold object of making assurance doubly sure
that nothing in the least likely to be wanted during the forthcoming
expedition had been forgotten, and to afford Lady Elphinstone the
opportunity to satisfy herself, before starting, that every arrangement
for her comfort and convenience was complete.
The _Flying Fish_ was still lying concealed in the spot where she had
alighted four nights before; and it happened that, Lady Olivia having
been too fully occupied to visit the ship until now, this was the first
time that she had beheld the wonderful craft for fully six years. It
was also only the second time--save on one memorable and
never-to-be-forgotten occasion--that she had ever obtained an exterior
view of the vessel, and, upon the first occasion referred to, the
conditions had been such as to impress the appearance of the ship upon
her ladyship's memory only very vaguely. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that upon emerging from the forest path into the open glade,
and catching for the first time a full view of the vast proportions of
the structure, her ladyship should stop short with an exclamation of
astonishment at what she beheld.