To the North-west Frontier
It would be difficult to find anywhere an individual who settles down to
new surroundings, to luxury, or to privation so quickly, so easily, and
with so little discussion as does your British Tommy or Jack Tar. Given
a piece of good cake tobacco, a jack knife, and a pipe, he will, so long
as he has a few boon companions, soon have the air humming with his
yarns or his songs. In fact, both of these estimable beings are right
good fellows. Let us descend, therefore, to the men's quarters aboard
the great airship. Lined with sleeping bunks on either side, with huge
windows which made it possible to provide the best of ventilation,
furnished with electric radiators for use in cold latitudes, or when
flying at a great altitude, the part assigned to the men was a paradise
compared with the quarters they might have expected. And on the evening
after the return of Joe and his party with the stout and nervous
magnate, Hurst and Hawkins and their cronies were gathered together,
smoking like chimneys and chattering like a cageful of monkeys. As might
well be expected also, their superiors in the saloon came in for some
discussion.
"I was a talkin' of 'im," reiterated Hawkins, licking his lips, for he
had removed his pipe for that particular reason; "of Mr. Alec Jardine;
and I says as 'e's the boy fer a sailor. 'E's like Dicky, so 'e is, and
Dicky's the properest sailor as ever I set eyes on."
"To which I agrees," exclaimed Private Larkin, Jim Larkin as he was
known, no less a person than Major Harvey's soldier servant. "'E's a
sailor, 'e is. And p'raps 'ed make a soldier too, fer all I knows. But
this here Alec, why, he's got the cut of a soldier, 'e 'as. Don't you
deny it."
He was almost ferocious as he addressed himself to Hawkins, and we must
admit that one unaccustomed to those in the men's quarters might have
even been alarmed. For Private Larkin was not blessed with the most
attractive of countenances. To begin with, his head was remarkably big,
too big for his body, and most of the head seemed to be composed of a
pair of fat, bulging cheeks, above which were a couple of equally
bulging eyes which had a most disagreeable habit of fixing upon people,
staring them out of countenance, and then of squinting. They were at it
now. Hawkins blew fiercely into his pipe.
"Stow that 'ere squintin', shipmate," he growled. "A man ain't never
sure what you're lookin' at. Fust it's 'is face. Then it's 'is boots,
then it's--it's what not. Now, you nor I ain't likely to agree on that
'ere youngster. You says he'd make a soldier. I says as 'es fair cut out
fer a sailor. Let's leave it at that in case we gets to quarrelling.
Let's jaw about this here fat little feller, him as the papers called a
sportsman."
"Sportsman!" chimed in Hurst in his most scornful tones. "I like that.
Sportsmen don't funk when it's a question of flying."
"Then you ain't one," came Hawkins's laughing answer. "Nor you nor me
was so precious merry when we were hoisted aboard this here ship; and I
stakes my davy neither of us are so eager to go aboard that aeroplane.
It ain't every sportsman that has the nerve to fly, so jest you mark it.
And every sportsman ain't like this here Mr. Reitberg, him as has an
accent jammed up with his words every time he opens his mouth."
"But 'Sportsman''s what the papers called him," said Larkin, scenting
here another theme for fierce argument For this merry soldier loved to
bandy words, to discuss matters threadbare, while the very meeting with
a member of the allied service was sufficient to make him disputatious.
If Hawkins said that the visitor who had recently arrived on board was a
sportsman, Larkin declared with decision that he was no such thing. His
little red, pointed moustache seemed to erect itself towards his eyes,
while the latter turned upon Hawkins and Hurst in succession, and then
upon the other tars a stare which was positively threatening.
"Sportsman! Ho, yes! That's what they called 'im. And what does Sergeant
Evans say? What's 'e say, I ask?"
There was no response, for the simple reason that none knew. The worthy
Sergeant was, indeed, given to keeping his own counsels. None the less
Larkin professed to be aware of his opinions.
"Of course, none of you knows," he told them triumphantly. "You
wouldn't, for the Sergeant's always kind of suspicious of seafaring
folks. Not that I agrees with him there," he added, by way of apology,
while Hawkins and Hurst bridled and drew heavily on their pipes. "But
it's his way. He keeps quiet when the Navy's round about. Still I know,
and I'll tell you. 'E says 'watch 'im'. That's what Sergeant Evans
says."
"Ah! Watch 'im?" repeated Hurst thoughtfully. "And why?"
"'Cos 'e's a sportsman. 'Cos it's this here Mr. Reitberg that challenged
Mr. Provost to build the airship and sail her round the world;
and--what's a sight more than all--'cos he's been and gone and put one
hundred thousand pounds--one hundred thousand golden, shining
sovereigns--under lock and key, and given the key into someone else's
keeping against the day when the ship's cruised round the world and
safely returned to England. It was that that caused the papers to
describe this here Mr. Reitberg as a sportsman. And it's that very thing
that's going to prove as he ain't nothing of the sort. 'Im a
sportsman!--with an accent you could cut with a knife, clipping the
king's English! 'Watch 'im,' says Sergeant Evans, and that's what I'm
doing."
Thereat Jim Larkin stared pugnaciously at his companions, each in turn
coming in for a broadside from those prominent, squinting eyes of his,
while every feature of his face seemed to be working so as to let the
company in general know that Jim had a grievance. Then his pipe went to
his mouth, a pair of thick lips opened, tilting his fierce red
moustache, while the stem was thrust between an uneven row of
exceedingly black teeth. It was only when he had contrived to make the
pipe draw, and had puffed out a billow of smoke, that Jim's features
relaxed. He actually smiled at Hawkins. "And don't you go and get
nervous like," he told the tar, in a protecting tone of voice, "'cos
there's me aboard, and the Sergeant, to say nothing of that there Alec
Jardine, what's fit ter be a soldier. Mind, I ain't sayin' as 'e ain't
cut out fer a sailor too. But if a youngster's that, it don't always say
as he'd do for a soldier. No. Don't you think it, and as regards that
sportsman, don't you and your mate get nervous. As I've said jest now,
there's----"
"Stow it," growled Hurst, roused to anger by such patronage. "Why, if I
couldn't with this one hand manage that Mr. Reitberg, why----"
He stopped abruptly, his vocabulary being insufficient to express his
meaning, while Hawkins, Pierson, Peters, and the others nodded their
approval. Nor did they resent less than he the uppishness of Private
Larkin. There were covert threats to "show him what". Big, brawny hands
doubled up into formidable fists, while the eyes of the tars sought
those of the soldier, returning his previous broadsides in a manner
there was no denying. Then a broad smile disarmed them. It was only
Jim's fun. The crafty fellow had been merely joking.
"Lor!" he grinned. "It do make a chap smile to pull the legs of you
sailors, and it's a treat to meet some of ye and get chatting. But you
jest remember what I've said. There's a sportsman aboard. You watch
'im."
As far as they were able the crew of the airship did indeed keep a very
watchful eye upon the portly frame of Mr. Carl Reitberg. He never left
his cabin to pace the deck but some bare-footed sailor followed, or met
him by accident as it were, or made pretence to be on watch, and paced
the deck within easy distance. Down below, too, there was the Sergeant.
As we have narrated, he claimed an old acquaintance with the magnate,
though he was careful to keep that fact to himself, merely repeating his
warning to his employers. He even went so far as to inspect Carl
Reitberg's baggage, a task of no great difficulty since he acted as
valet as well as mess sergeant.
"Any particular wishes, sir?" he asked politely, soon after Carl's
arrival on board. "If you will kindly hand me your keys I will unpack
and stow your things in the wardrobe."
The lordly magnate handed them over instantly, with a curt nod of
approval. He was even pleased to hand the Sergeant a golden coin on his
return to the cabin. For his trunk was unpacked and removed to the
baggage apartment, while his clothes were laid out in the drawers of the
wardrobe.
"Keys, sir," said the Sergeant, handing them to him. "What about this
box, sir," and he pointed to the one which had accompanied Carl, and of
which he had been so careful. "Shall I take it to the baggage room?"
"Certainly not! Er--no, thank you," exclaimed the magnate promptly, and
with some acerbity. "Er--leave it there. It's full of--er--valuables,
things I wish to show to Mr. Provost. I had it sealed, and would have
brought the things in a safe but for the fact that it would have been so
heavy, too heavy for this vessel."
"She'll carry tons and tons, sir," came the respectful answer. "A dozen
safes wouldn't make any difference. So I'm to leave the box, sir?"
"Decidedly! Ah! I see that the seals are unbroken. That's satisfactory."
It may have been satisfactory to Mr. Reitberg, but it was anything but
that to Sergeant Evans.
"Don't I know his foxy ways, too," he told himself, when ensconced in
the privacy of his pantry diligently cleaning silver. "I haven't served
with the military police in South Africa without learning something, and
there's things I remember. For instance, this Carl Reitberg was someone
else out there, and not half so fine and mighty. I.D.B. they called him,
which means illicit diamond buyer. And there were other things he was
suspected to be, things that people forget when they see him dressed so
fine and know that he's as wealthy as they make 'em. I know--foxy!
That's him--I'm watching!"
So here was another following the very same plan adopted by the men
forward, while, had he but known it, even the redoubtable Dick with his
chum Alec had embarked on the same service.
"Of course, Andrew and the others don't believe he's here for anything
but a tour," said the former very abruptly, within two days of Carl's
arrival. "Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn't. I'm not going to trust to
luck, eh, Alec?"
"Certainly not; he's a fishy beggar. We'll take it in turns to dog him."
It followed, therefore, that Mr. Carl Reitberg was a very astonished
individual. He had already noticed the close proximity of sailors
whenever he trudged the upper deck, a promenade of which he soon became
exceedingly fond, for a magnificent view of the country over which the
ship was steering could always be obtained. But that proximity he put
down to the fact that the men had their orders, and that this being a
ship it was only proper that watches should be kept.
"Makes one feel secure and safe when high up," he told himself. "'Pon my
word this flying through space is magnificent. I never dreamed I could
do more than endure it. As for the aeroplane it is an abominable
invention. Never again do I set foot in the machine. Ah, Mr. Dick, I
think! Midshipman, I hear. Always up to mischief."
It was part of the magnate's scheme to make himself agreeable to all and
sundry, and now, as Mr. Midshipman Dick joined him, he greeted that
promising young officer with effusion.
"Sea dog, eh?" he quizzed. "Budding Nelson."
"Budding Nelson be blowed!" was Dick's disrespectful answer, only it was
_sotto voce_. "Sea dog! Listen to the fellow. Makes a chap feel ill.
Morning, Mr. Reitberg!" he said aloud. "Having a constitutional?"
"Regular custom," the fat little gentleman told him. "Travelled a lot,
don't you know, and have learned how to keep healthy. Come, tell me all
about the vessel."
Yes, it tickled the vanity of the magnate immensely to find himself so
popular. The guineas which he had distributed amongst the crew caused
him to be saluted constantly, a fact on which he preened himself. And
now even the youngsters had taken a fancy to him. If Dick were not at
his elbow, Alec was there, listening respectfully to his words, pointing
out details, laughing uproariously at his stories. But Carl Reitberg did
not know that one and all were watching. He never suspected _that_,
never suspected that there were those on board by whom he himself was
suspected.
"Fine," he told himself in the privacy of his cabin. "Fine--couldn't be
better. I'm getting bosom pal all round. Wait till I open that box and
show the contents to 'em."
He went across to it and inspected the seals. Yes, they were intact, a
huge blob of wax at both ends indented deeply with the vulgar seal which
hung upon his own massive frame, from a chain capable almost of holding
the airship.
Meanwhile the great airship ploughed her easy path through the limitless
leagues of the atmosphere, hardly even trembling as her powerful screw
pushed her forward, never wavering in her course, save when the master
hand of her inventor or the hand of the watchful steersman willed that
she should swerve to one side or the other. There were times, too, when
Dick or Alec would take post in the engine-room, and there stand at the
levers which controlled the movements of this giant vessel. Never once
did the gallant midshipman lose his admiration for this work of art,
this massive ship, so huge, so stable, and so strong, and yet so
extremely frail in appearance. Never did he cease to wonder at that
magnificent vista of almost transparent girders and beams and rods
ranging overhead, whenever he cared to crane his neck and stare upward.
Nor yet had he ceased to grin and find abundant amusement in the figures
of his fellow passengers.
"It's like a peepshow all the time," he told Alec one day with an
expansive grin. "One looks upward, as if through a window, and there are
the people we know, walking overhead, strutting backwards and forwards
for all the world as if they were flies. And one gets to know 'em by the
size of their boots, and--er--by other signs. For instance----"
"There's Mr. Andrew," said Alec.
"Sure enough--number one size boots, dapper, very."
"Military walk, smart and alert. White moustache to be seen also, but
coloured yellow by the celludine through which one sees him. Then
there's the Major."
"All there; walks quickly backwards and forwards. You can tell he's a
soldier."
"Then there's Hawkins and Hurst and the rest of the men rolling as is
the custom with tars. Say, Dicky, why do sailors roll? Is it side only?"
That brought a flush of wrath to the cheeks of the indignant Dicky.
"Side!" he gasped. "Side! You ever saw a sailor suffering from swelled
head? Look here, my son, I'll punch yours if you ain't more careful."
But it was all fun. They grimaced at one another and then grinned widely
as another figure appeared in the peculiar perspective of men tramping
overhead. It was the magnate, the high and mighty Mr. Reitberg, the
sportsman who pronounced his words with a very peculiar accent, and who
was fond of describing himself as English to the backbone.
"Tell him a mile off," sniffed Dick. "Big, flat feet, rest all
corporation. Can't get a glimpse of his ugly phiz for the size of his
tummy."
What a joy it was to these two bosom friends to send the ship bounding
forward! To stir up the motor gently purring beside them, to rouse it as
it were to a gentle fury, for that was one of the points of Joe's
handiwork and genius. This paraffin-fired motor of his ran as smoothly
as any turbine. You might accelerate it as much as you could, and still
it purred, though at its highest speeds the purr had become angry and
assertive. Yes, it was a joy to shut close, to bang and bar as it were,
the throttle and set the hydraulic pumps into full action. And how the
ship responded. She leaped forward, and there had been times when the
speedometer mounted in the engine-room told that the vessel was
thrusting herself through the air at the incredible speed of two hundred
miles an hour. Impossible! we hear some sceptical reader exclaim. Why?
But five years ago aeroplanes were spoken of derisively, while their
speed seldom exceeded forty miles an hour. To-day they can shoot through
the air at a hundred, and the day is fast approaching, thanks to Joe
Gresson and others of his kidney, when that speed will be as nothing.
Why, then, should this great airship not be able to attain to even
double the greatest known speed of an aeroplane? Why, indeed? Her design
was all in her favour. There was hardly a projection about her to cause
wind friction and delay her passage, while the smooth celludine with
which she was coated slid through the atmosphere with an ease that had
never been approached before. Add to these points, which all make for
speed, engines of the highest efficiency, a transmission of the latest
design and purely hydraulic. As carried out on the airship this means of
conveying power from the engines to the propeller guaranteed but the
merest fractional loss. In fact, what loss there was was negligible. And
the propeller itself was one for which aviators would willingly have
given a small fortune. But enough of such explanations. We live in a
world of marvellous and incredible invention. The armchair sceptic and
unbeliever of to-day has his views and scepticism shattered almost
before he was finished speaking. The marvels of the Zeppelin,
acknowledged to be the last word in airship construction, were now
overshadowed and belittled by the wonders of Joe Gresson's invention.
The world was raving about the ship. Scientists and inventors in every
country were longing to be made familiar with its intricacies.
Steering over the placid surface of the Mediterranean Joe Gresson and
his friends hovered over the port of Alexandria, and thence sailed for
Cairo. Shrill cries greeted her from the sandy desert about the ancient
pyramids, while a motley crowd waved to her from their summits. But
there was no time to halt. With one long look at the placid, cruel, yet
gentle face of the sphinx the ship's head was swung towards the east. An
hour later a long ribbon of blue, shimmering in the sun, and hedged on
either side by an unbroken expanse of yellow, told of the great Suez
Canal.
"We'll follow it through its length," said Joe, now at the helm. "See!
We are seven thousand feet up, and one can perceive a huge portion of
the canal, severed here and there by the bitter lakes through which it
runs. Ah! There's a ship. Let's drop down close to her."
The vessel plunged. One who was ignorant of her powers would have
imagined that she was about to crash to the ground. But she was merely
descending at her fastest pace, and plunging brought her within hailing
distance of the ship then passing through the canal, even before Mr.
Reitberg had quite recovered his nerve or his equilibrium.
"_Himmel!_" he shrieked, as the vessel headed downward and shot toward
the sand. "Hold her! She is falling! We shall all be killed."
He formed the mad resolution of rushing to the engine-room, and stepped
in that direction. But, as we have said, the inclination of the decks
considerably upset his equilibrium. The magnate indeed took a header,
slithered along the smooth platform beneath the gas chambers, and landed
up against one of the partitions with a bang which shook his eyeglass
from its holding. By then the vessel was within a hundred feet of the
canal, sailing along directly over it, and just ahead of the ship
ploughing her way through the water.
What cheers there were! How the passengers on that eastward-bound vessel
crowded the decks and shouted! And then the liner hoisted her Union
Jack, and dipped it formally. At once the watchful Hawkins responded
from the deck above, while again cheers came to the ears of Dick and his
friends.
"And just contrast the two ships," said Alec, when they had progressed
in this fashion for perhaps an hour. "Look! You can see the airship's
reflection in the water, and, my! ain't she a whopper!"
Yes, she was huge, vast, incredibly enormous. And yet how smoothly she
sailed along, and with what little effort! It was a fascinating picture
to behold. Dick found himself following the giant outline, picking out
the various points till then invisible from the deck above, or from the
platforms below. For instance, four huge attachments puzzled him
immensely, for they hung from the framework and seemed without purpose.
"All the same they're meant for business," Joe told him, with that
quiet, half-cynical smile for which he was notorious. "Oh yes, Dicky, we
don't have useless attachments on this ship, unless--ahem! it's amongst
the crew. I ain't, of course, referring to midshipmen."
But he was. He was teasing the gallant Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw, and had
he been Alec there would have been a rumpus.
"Seriously, though," he went on when he had had his laugh, "they're for
landing. You see, it don't do to bump a ship of this description. We
want to reach terra firma gently. Now, if you were to jump from a height
you'd land on your toes if possible, come down on to your heels, and
then bend your knees, all by stages as it were, quickly enough you
understand, but offering such graduated resistance that there would be
no shock at all. That's what happens with those attachments. Each one is
thirty feet in length, and hinged inside the frame of the airship at its
upper and forward end. Now, watch us. We'll bump to the ground. How's
that?"
It really was remarkable, and so thought the people on board the liner.
For Joe's practised hand arrested the engines. The ship came to a
standstill. Then she fell as if she were a dead weight, was arrested
within twenty feet of the ground merely by touching a single lever, and
then descended sharply. But there was no shock. Those four antennæ
hinged upward beneath the weight, gradually met it, and then held her
firmly suspended. Even the glassware on the saloon table was not shaken.
"And now for a trip on terra firma if only to stretch our legs," cried
Joe. "We'll take it by turns, half at a time."
It was singular how everyone fell in with the views of the young
inventor; and, in fact, it was to be observed aboard the airship that
though there was no recognized captain, no officers, and no regular
crew, yet the work aboard progressed with a smoothness which was
remarkable. There were rules, naturally enough, and all aboard had been
assigned duties. But the simplicity of the whole contrivance, and above
all, the efficiency of the engines, called for the smallest attention.
"Merely see that the lubricators are working, and that the fuel feed is
right, and things go along merrily," said Andrew, who was becoming quite
an engineer.
This opportunity of a trip ashore was seized upon by all in turn, and
long walks over the sandhills were indulged in. Then the airship picked
up passengers and crew once more, and rising from the sand steered a
course east and north, swooping over the deserts of Arabia. All the
following night she sped on without a halt, and when the lively Dick
again trod the deck he looked down upon the Arabian Sea. But it was
merely a corner of that vast ocean, for within a few hours the vessel
was sweeping over Persia.
"A sparsely inhabited country, and therefore one where we may venture to
halt for a while without fear of interruption," said Joe. "Our water
supply is running short, and if we are to continue our regular baths
every morning we must fill our tanks again."
Whoever heard of an airship carrying baths and water tanks of big
capacity? But this one did, and bore the weight as if it were nothing.
And the completeness of her equipment was again demonstrated, for,
having sighted a huge lake in the heart of Persia, and made sure that
there was not a town or a village in sight, Joe dropped the ship
directly on the water, setting her elevators to work so gently that they
held the giant framework but six feet above the surface.
"Now we drop our pumps, set the motors going, and in a jiffy fill the
tanks," he said. "Watch the whole performance."
But there was little to see, though Dick and Alec, ever the most curious
of those aboard, strained their necks to watch all that was passing. Two
snake-like, flexible metal pipes were passed from the engine-room
through apertures specially constructed for the purpose. Then the motor
hummed a little louder, while one of the pump attachments was set going;
the gurgle of water splashing into the tanks was the only indication
that the operation was being performed with success. An hour, indeed,
sufficed to replenish their supplies, when the ship shot upward once
more till some six thousand feet of pure, sun-lit air lay beneath her.
"And now for the north-west frontier of India, where our soldiers are
ever on the watch," said Joe. "Come, Major, you feel no nervousness? You
have no fears, I hope, lest our gas should run short and land us in the
arms of some of those gentry who look upon an Englishman as a dog, to be
slaughtered on any and every occasion?"
"You may take me where you will, in chains if you wish," was the smiling
response. "After the things that I have seen I have the utmost
confidence in both the leader of this expedition and on the ship his
hands have constructed. There! I cannot say more."
It may be stated that only one person aboard the airship had a doubt as
to her capacity and his own security, and, as may be guessed, that
individual was Carl Reitberg. But then he was always nervous for his own
skin.
"The north-west!" he gasped, when Joe told him of their immediate
destination. "But--but that's where there are always little wars and
skirmishes."
"Precisely," observed the Major, with cutting abruptness. "Our best
soldiers are bred there. I've had a dose of the north-west myself. Keeps
you alive, sir. And if you aren't lively, why----"
"Ahem!" lisped Dick. "You're dead, dead as a herring."
"And you go there?" stuttered the magnate, his face paling, his fat
cheeks trembling.
"Certainly!" declared Joe.
"But supposing something happened, supposing----"
"It won't, I hope," came the answer.
"But it might," chimed in Dick, grinning. "Then there'd be a ruction.
Say, Mr. Andrew, ain't they fond of torturing folks first?"
It was too bad to tease the wretched and craven Mr. Reitberg. But there
was no suppressing Dicky or his boon companion Alec. While in their
secret heart of hearts the Major and perhaps Joe and Mr. Andrew were not
altogether sorry. Nor did they say much to comfort the unhappy magnate.
Indeed, that stout and crafty gentleman was thrown into a violent
flutter two days later. For the wireless apparatus aboard suddenly
picked up a message.
"Someone calling, sir," reported the operator. "Calling with an
apparatus of low power. I can't quite tap the message, though it has
been getting stronger."
"Then we're moving towards it; we'll send her ahead. Wonder what it is?"
said Joe. "There are few wireless instruments in this part of the world,
and those there are belong to the British forces. Report again when you
can read the message."
At once the ship was sent ahead at her fastest pace, while the wireless
operator returned to his instruments. Nor was it long when he appeared
with a report.
"A force of Gurkha soldiers held up in the hills, sir," he told Joe.
"Calling for help, but not yet in touch with the instruments of their
main party. Urgently require relief. Ammunition almost run out. I told
them to expect us."
"Certainly!" cried Joe. "We'll do our utmost to relieve them. Major,
kindly see that arms are served to the men. Sergeant Evans has the keys
of the magazines."
"But--you will never venture to attack whoever is hemming in these
British soldiers," cried Mr. Reitberg, aghast.
"Then you'd let 'em be shot down, eh?" asked Andrew angrily.
"Er--well, how can we help it? It is their own business. Why should we
rush into danger?"
The magnate was positively shaking. He could scarcely stand, so
violently were his knees knocking. As for Joe, he turned on his heel and
went straightway to the engine-room, while the Major hurried off to
issue weapons to the men. Andrew regarded his guest grimly, and with
difficulty smothered his rising anger.
"Sir," he said with dignity, "those men are British soldiers. This ship
is British also. If there is a call for help we take it, whatever the
risk. Remember that you yourself owe to our country a debt which a
service such as this is will only partially help you to repay. There,
sir, if you are nervous retire to your cabin."
But Mr. Reitberg's anxiety would not allow him to do that. He paced the
broad deck of the ship a prey to terrible forebodings. Then, driven from
the open by the fierce rush of air there, he slid off to his cabin.
"Shall I, now?" he asked himself, as he handled that box with its seals
still adhering. "Shall I set the clockwork going and so put a stop to
the course these fools are taking? Ah! No! That would not do here. But
later. Yes, later I will punish them for incurring this danger."
Love for his own security forbade his taking the rash step he had for
the moment contemplated, for the consequences, he reflected, would be
disastrous to himself as well as to his fellows. But later; yes, he
would open that box; that is, if he were still living. For the ship was
plunging furiously onward, and every few minutes the wireless operator
telephoned his news of an impending British disaster. There were a
thousand dusky natives hemming in but fifty Gurkha soldiers and one
British officer. Their ammunition was almost spent. The enemy were
within charging distance of them.
"Tell 'em we're coming fast," was Joe's curt answer. "And, Major, just
make all ready for action."