Enrico Jaures, Spaniard on his father's side and German on his mother's,
with a dash of almost every other Continental nation's blood in his
veins, lived or rather existed in a mean dwelling behind the King's
Bastion, on the west side of Gibraltar.
Indolent, thriftless, and easy-going on the one hand, crafty and
quarrelsome on the other, he possessed all the bad points that
characterise the criminal classes of the two countries where his parents
first saw the light. What he did for a living and how he earned money
was a mystery even to his polyglot neighbours. Yet, without being well
off, he appeared to be always "flush" with money.
Contrary to the general demeanour of the Rock Scorps, Enrico Jaures
expressed no astonishment when the "Golden Hind" appeared over the high
ground beyond Algeciras. He was expecting the airship, although he had
to confess to himself that she had certainly arrived prematurely.
Evidently this was not according to plan.
He sat, smoked innumerable cigarettes, and thought as deeply as a
half-breed Spaniard can. Twice he got up, yawned, stretched himself and
ambled back to the house to partake of a meal consisting principally of
olives, garlic, and maize. Then back he came to his post of vantage and
sat gazing stolidly at the five hundred feet of inflated gasbag riding
easily to her wire cable, while her crew, bringing the airship close to
the surface, were busily engaged in pumping up petrol from a
tank-lighter.
The shadows were lengthening considerably when a white-robed Moor
approached the reclining Jaures--a dignified, olive-featured man,
wearing a thick black beard and moustache.
"The Englishman has started," observed the new-comer, speaking in
Spanish with a decidedly guttural accent.
"That I know," rejoined Enrico.
"But not so von Sinzig," continued the other in a low tone, giving a
furtive glance over his shoulder. "Until he arrives at Massowah it is
doubtful whether he will know that this English airship is on his heels.
Why is she here so soon?"
"I know not," replied Jaures. "Two men landed from her. They went in
the direction of Buena Vista."
The pseudo Moor shrugged his shoulders.
"Two thousand five hundred pesetas are awaiting you in the Banqua del
Espiritu at Algeciras, friend Enrico," he said in a low voice. "Prevent
that airship's departure even for twelve hours and the money will be
paid you."
"How can I?" asked Jaures, showing more interest than he had hitherto
displayed. "I cannot place a bomb on board her, like I did on board the
_Henri Artois_ at Barcelona."
"S'sh! Not so loud," exclaimed the other warningly. "How you earn the
money is your affair."
The supposed Moor passed on, leaving Enrico Jaures gazing thoughtfully
at the British airship.
He sat and pondered until the refuelling operations were completed and
the "Golden Hind" allowed to rise a hundred feet above the sea. With
the setting of the sun a gentle breeze sprang up from the nor'east,
causing the hitherto almost motionless airship to sway as she fretted at
her cable.
He waited until darkness had settled upon the scene, then once more made
his way into the house. This time he did not eat, but fortified himself
with a long drink out of an earthenware bottle.
Drawing his knife, he carefully oiled the blade and replaced it in its
sheath. Then, having selected a marline-spike from a tool box, he slung
the implement from his neck by means of a lanyard, hiding it under his
coloured shirt.
These preparations completed, he walked slowly and unconcernedly to the
Old Mole.
By this time the water-front was almost deserted. A patrol marched
stolidly down the street; Enrico stepped into the shelter of a narrow
courtyard until the khaki-clad party had disappeared; but before he
could resume he had to await the passing of a gaitered and belted naval
picquet.
The coast cleared, he reached the Mole. A tramp steamer and a few
feluccas were moored alongside. Farther out a tug was engaged in
shepherding a couple of large lighters alongside an East-bound liner,
while changing red, white, and green lights betokened the presence of
swift-moving steamboats in the bay. Standing out against the faint
starlight he could discern the "Golden Hind." Even as he looked a gleam
of light shot through the windows of one of the compartments, and then
another, both being almost instantly screened.
"Two thousand five hundred pesetas," whispered Jaures to himself. "A
good price for a little swim."
Without troubling to remove any of his clothes, although he kicked off
his canvas shoes, Enrico cautiously descended a flight of steps until
his feet touched the water. Listening to assure himself that no one was
about, he glided in as noiselessly as an eel, and swam with slow, steady
strokes under the counter of the tramp and close to her wall sides until
he gained her bows.
Taking his bearings of the airship's mooring-buoy, he resumed his easy
progress cautiously lest feathers of phosphorescent spray should betray
his presence.
A quarter of an hour's swim brought him up to the mooring-buoy. With
considerable difficulty, for the large barrel-shaped buoy was coated
with barnacles and slippery with seaweed, Enrico contrived to draw
himself clear of the water.
Again he waited, listening to the sounds emanating from the airship a
hundred or a hundred and fifty feet overhead. The wire hawser, acting
as a conductor, enabled him to hear with great distinctness, and
possessing a good knowledge of English he was able to pick up scraps of
conversation between the crew. That helped him but little, for they
were talking of matters as remote from the topic of the great race as
the Poles.
Enrico Jaures next devoted his attention to the shackle that secured the
thimble spliced in the end of the cable to the big ring bolt of the
buoy.
He grunted with satisfaction when he discovered that the shackle was
threaded and not secured by a forelock, but at the same time he found by
the sense of touch that whoever had been responsible for the job had
done his work well by securing the pin by means of a piece of flexible
wire.
This latter Jaures managed to cast loose, then, with the aid of his
marline-spike, he began to unfasten the shackle-pin, pausing
occasionally as the strain on the wire rope increased.
At last the deed was accomplished. The shackle-pin clattered upon the
rounded surface of the buoy and rebounded into the water; but almost
simultaneously Enrico Jaures found himself being whisked aloft. A
snap-hook at the end of a wire had caught in his belt, and there he was,
suspended ignominiously like a horse being slung on board a ship,
already a hundred feet or more above the surface of the sea.
His first impulse was to cut loose his belt and drop, but a downward
glance at the dark unfathomable void made him abruptly change his mind.
His sole thought was now that of self-preservation. Fearful lest his
leather belt should break and send him hurtling through space he clung
desperately to the wire.
Fax below him the lights of Gibraltar seemed to be gliding past as the
freed airship drifted towards the strait separating Europe from the
African shore.
It was bitterly cold aloft. The keenness of the rarefied air was
intensified by the fact that his clothes were saturated with salt water.
A numbing pain crept down both arms. His muscles seemed to be cracking
under the strain, while his fingers closed round the wire until the
nails sunk deep into his palms.
He shouted for help--his voice sounding more like the yelp of a jackal
than that of a human being. But no response came from the airship a
hundred feet above him.
"Dios!" he exclaimed in agony. "This is indeed the end."