THE AERO-HYDROPLANE.
"I want you men to promise me," said Captain Restronguet, addressing the
survivors of the "Iticaba's" crew, who were drawn up in the submarine
deck--"I want you to give me your word of honour that on landing, and in
a period of fourteen days from that time, you will make no mention
whatsoever about the 'Aphrodite' being still capable of action. Mind, I
do not bind you down by conditions, threats, or intimidation of any
sort. I would not insult a body of true-hearted British seamen by so
doing. I merely ask, in the interests of every vessel within range of
the 'Vorwartz's' atrocities, that the presence of the 'Aphrodite' should
not be revealed."
The submarine was now within ten miles of Ras Nungwe, the northernmost
part of Zanzibar Island, and the "Iticaba's" people were about to be
sent ashore. They had, through their skipper, expressed their most
grateful thanks for their gallant rescue in the nick of time, and in
replying Captain Restronguet had made this request with reference to the
"Vorwartz."
"Strikes me very forcibly, sir," answered Captain Rees, "that you have
made a very difficult request. You see, there's bound to be an inquiry
by the Consul, and a report will have to be sent to Lloyd's before the
owners can recover the insurance. And without I make a clean breast of
it the Board of Trade will take away my ticket."
"By Jove, I hadn't thought of that!" exclaimed Captain Restronguet. "As
you say, it is a very difficult point to take into consideration. Yet
in an affair of this description, where so much depends upon the issue,
the ordinary routine followed in cases of shipwreck ought to be put
aside, at least for a few days."
"I could answer for my men," continued the old skipper, and a lusty
chorus of "Ay, ay," that had a ring of sincerity in it, came from the
survivors of the ill-fated tramp. "But, you see, sir, it's a ticklish
business trying to bamboozle the Board."
"If I were to write a letter to the President of the Consular Court--no,
I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll go myself," declared Captain
Restronguet. "Mr. Devoran, keep an offing, will you? I'm going ashore
in the 'Iticaba's' boat; I'll hire some sort of craft to get back, so
keep a sharp look-out for me on the west side of Bawi Island, that's
over yonder. It is on the north side of the Western Pass, as the
approach of Zanzibar Town is called. Should any large craft come in
sight, don't hesitate to dive. We must preserve our secret at all
costs."
"Are you going alone, sir?" asked Hythe.
"I did think of so doing; but why? Would you like to accompany me
ashore?"
"I should, sir. You see, I know the place fairly well. Spent three
months in the East Indies flagship in these waters when I was a
midshipman."
The whaler was manned, Captain Restronguet, the skipper of the
"Iticaba," and Hythe sitting in the stern sheets. There was no wind, so
the men had recourse to their oars, and a five mile pull under a blazing
sun was no light task. Nevertheless, within an hour and a quarter of
leaving the "Aphrodite" the whaler ran alongside the landing-slips at
Zanzibar.
A crowd of Arabs, Zanzibaris, and negroes, with a sprinkling of
Europeans, awaited the arrival of the boat, for since there was no large
vessel lying outside the Western Pass, it was rightly conjectured that
the men were survivors from some disaster.
Loyally the seamen maintained silence, and stolidly refused to be
questioned by several of the seamen from other ships that happened to be
lying in the roadstead, and in a body they marched to the British
Consulate, where Captain Restronguet asked to be shown into the presence
of His Majesty's representative.
"What name, sir?" asked the stalwart sergeant of marines, who was in
charge of the guard.
"That I wish to withhold," replied the Captain. "At the same time I am
convinced that the Consul will be more than willing to see me."
The sergeant demurred, but just then a dapper little man, whose
snow-white hair and closely trimmed grey beard contrasted vividly with
his brick-red complexion, came across the courtyard.
"What's this? Shipwrecked men?" he asked, scanning the somewhat
dishevelled crowd of seamen, some of whom bore traces of hard knocks
received in the struggle with the Somalis.
"These men are," replied Captain Restronguet. "I have not had that
misfortune. Neither has my friend here. At the same time I wish to
make an important communication to you in private."
"By all means," said the Consul. "This way. Simmons, will you please
bring whisky and soda into the small study. I presume, gentlemen, you
would like a peg?"
"Now," he continued, as Captain Restronguet, Captain Rees, and Hythe
followed him into the room, "what can I do for you? Do you wish to make
a statement on oath? If so, I must send for my secretary."
"The necessity for making a statement upon oath rests with you," replied
Captain Restronguet. "Allow me to introduce myself as Captain John
Restronguet, commanding the submarine 'Aphrodite,' which is now lying
off the port."
The Consul stared at his informant for quite ten seconds, then
recovering himself said stiffly, "This, sir, is neither the place nor
occasion for a senseless joke."
"I agree with you."
"Then, why? The 'Aphrodite' was destroyed by that villain Karl von
Harburg in the Red Sea more than a week ago."
"On whose authority did you hear this, might I ask?"
"On the word--if word it can be called--of Karl von Harburg himself."
"The report was false. I am he whom I claim to be. This gentleman, Mr.
Arnold Hythe, an officer of the Royal Navy, will corroborate my
statement."
"I am aware that Captain Arnold Hythe was in the 'Aphrodite,'" said the
Consul, who was still unconvinced. He was an old Cambridge man, and as
such had both participated and had been the victim of more than one
elaborate hoax. Such episodes, utterly foolish as they appear to be,
serve their purpose in after life. They impart a considerable amount of
shrewdness into the human mind.
"Can you offer me definite proof?" continued the Consul. "If so I
should be delighted, since it is my opinion that the only vessel capable
of meeting the 'Vorwartz' on anything like even terms was, or perhaps
is, the 'Aphrodite.'"
Captain Restronguet bowed. "Sir, I feel honoured," he replied. "But
since you cannot accept the word of a gentleman, I can offer no other
solution."
"It is part of my duty to investigate matters," said the Consul
reprovingly. "If I remember rightly a photograph of Sub-Lieutenant
Hythe appeared in the illustrated papers at the time he was supposed to
have been lost in Plymouth Sound. I cannot admit that the gentleman
resembles the portrait."
"Have you a Navy List, sir?" asked the sub, speaking for the first time
during the interview.
The Consul walked across the room and took from a bureau a copy of the
familiar blue paper-covered book, which he handed to the sub.
"The 'Topaze' is in the roadstead," said Hythe, as he rapidly turned
over the pages. "Ah, here we are. Commander the Hon. C. L. Sedgwyke, I
know him, but I'm afraid he doesn't know me. Lieutenant
Totterbull--h'm, yes, he might. But here's Dewerstone, he was in my
term at Dartmouth. Would you mind if he were sent for, sir?"
"Certainly not. I will have a signal made at once," replied the Consul.
"You wouldn't mind, sir," continued the sub, addressing Captain
Restronguet. "Dewerstone is a fellow to be trusted. He wouldn't say a
word to anyone outside."
Accordingly a signal was made from the roof of the Consulate, and
Sub-Lieutenant Dewerstone was informed by his captain that his presence
was required ashore. The young man did not feel particularly joyful at
the intelligence. He had already obtained permission to go to a tennis
party, and having to attend on Consular Service did not appeal to him.
Nevertheless, as soon as a boat could take him off, Dewerstone was
ready.
"Good afternoon, Dick," exclaimed Hythe as soon as the sub from the
"Topaze" had paid his respects to the Consul.
"Well, Hythe, where did you roll up from?" asked Dewerstone
nonchalantly. "I thought you were in Davy Jones's locker."
"I am not," said Hythe earnestly. "Perhaps you would not mind proving
my identity to His Britannic Majesty's Consul."
"Considering we were in the semi-final for the heavyweight and you
knocked me out I think I can safely do that," replied Dewerstone.
"We need not go further, gentlemen," announced the Consul. "I must
apologize for not accepting your word, Captain Restronguet. Now what do
you wish me to do?"
As briefly as he could Captain Restronguet explained the circumstances
under which he rescued the survivors of the "Iticaba," and the reason
why he wished salient facts in connection with the affair to be
temporarily suppressed.
"I think it can be arranged," said the Consul. "At all events, I will
take down the depositions of Captain Rees, and omit any details I
consider necessary."
As soon as this was done Captain Rees took his departure.
His men had already been quartered in the Consulate, where they were to
remain until they could be sent back to Liverpool.
"You will dine with me, gentlemen?" asked the Consul of Captain
Restronguet and the two subs. "There is no immediate hurry for you to
get back?"
"I must get a boat before four o'clock," replied Captain Restronguet.
"So I must ask to be excused."
Hythe was also unable to accept, while Dewerstone, still intent upon the
tennis party, managed to find a reason for declining the stiff formality
of dinner at the Consulate.
During their stay at Zanzibar Captain Restronguet and his companions
visited the old town, but finding it remarkable for its malodorous
nature, they beat a hasty retreat and went for a stroll inland. Before
they returned it came on to blow fairly hard from the sou'west, and by
the time they reached the landing-place it was pretty evident that a
boat could not put off without great risk.
In vain Captain Restronguet offered the native boatmen a large sum to be
rowed off beyond Bawi Island. He even tried to charter a dhow, but
without success.
"We could ask the Consul to communicate with the 'Topaze' or any of the
cruisers and gunboats in the roadstead; they would send a piquet-boat
for us," suggested Hythe.
Captain Restronguet shook his head.
"Not if it can be avoided," he answered. "I have reasons for not
falling in with your plan. We will see if we can get better luck at
Shangani Point. The water ought to be smoother there."
Accordingly both men set off as briskly as they could in the moist,
enervating heat, but before they had passed the Sultan's palace a short,
sparsely-built man in European clothing overtook them. Twice the man
looked over his shoulder at Captain Restronguet, then suddenly wheeling
he intercepted him and held out his hand.
"What ho, there, Tretheway! Whoever would have thought of meeting you
in this dead and alive corner of the globe?"
Hythe naturally thought it was a case of mistaken identity on the part
of the little fellow, but to his surprise Captain Restronguet replied in
a cordial manner.
"Bless my soul! It's Jenkins. What are you doing here?"
"It is," assented that worthy. "I've been knocking about a bit since I
last worked--I mean, slaved--with you in a British dockyard. Fallen on
my feet at last though, that is, unless I fall on my precious skull.
Just fancy, Tretheway, I am aeroplanist-in-chief to His Highness the
Sultan of Zanzibar."
"Better you than me," remarked the Captain with a laugh. "But I was
unaware that the Sultan was a devotee of the art of flying."
"He is, and he isn't," replied Jenkins. "He owns a good many air crafts
of various types, and I and several others, mostly Frenchmen, by the by,
give exhibition flights while he sits in his state chair and watches us.
But how goes it? You look jolly fit, and don't appear as if you were
hard up for a dollar?"
"No, I cannot complain on that score," said Captain Restronguet quietly.
"Well, come and have a look at my little air-fleet. Really they don't
make a bad show. And your friend, of course."
"Sorry," replied Captain Restronguet. "But we're in a regular hurry. I
am trying to get a boat to put me off."
"Where to?" asked Jenkins. "One of the liners in the Roads?"
"No, further out; quite five miles off."
"Guess you won't get a Zanzibari to take on the job. There's a brute of
a swell tumbling in. Look here, I'll tell you what: I'll give you a lift
in one of our aero-hydroplanes, if you like."
"Is it safe?" asked Captain Restronguet earnestly, whereat Hythe
wondered, for his companion had never before shown signs of timidity,
even when in tight corners in the depths of the sea.
"Safe as a house," replied Jenkins reassuringly.
"Jenkins, my friend, you misunderstand me, although I quite admit the
question was ambiguous. Is it safe--or shall we say discreet?--to take
us for a 'joy-ride' in one of the Sultan's air-craft?"
"If anything His Highness would be pleased to see me making a flight in
gusty weather with two passengers; so say the word and I'll trot out the
contraption. It's the only way."
"Carry on, then," assented Captain Restronguet.
Within the spacious outer courtyard of the palace stood a number of
lofty sheds with sliding doors. At a wave and a gesture from the chief
aviator a number of natives opened the doors and dragged a huge
aero-hydroplane of an obsolete pattern into the sunlight. The machine
was a biplane. Underneath the two long floats were four wheels, so that
it could be adapted either for alighting and rising from the sea or
land.
Jenkins critically examined various nuts and tension wires, started the
engine, till the machine was all a-quiver with the vibration from the
revolving cylinders.
"All correct," he bawled, for the rapid explosion of the motor
practically deadened every other sound. "Get aboard."
Captain Restronguet occupied a seat immediately behind and slightly
higher than the pilot, while Hythe sat behind the biplane. Jenkins
vaulted agilely into his place, motioned to the attendants to stand
clear and thrust home the clutch of the propeller shaft.
The aero-hydro-craft leapt over the ground for about twenty yards with a
jerk that nearly capsized the two passengers; then soaring upwards it
cleared the courtyard wall by barely six feet, passed over the upturned
faces of a crowd of natives in the roadway, and shot rapidly across the
harbour.
The motion was exhilarating, but the air, by contrast with the heat
ashore, was cold and cutting to the faces of the passengers. Hythe
realized that aeroplaning in white ducks, even in the Tropics, was
rather out of place.
"Look, sir," he exclaimed. "There's the 'Topaze' going out."
"That's rotten luck," replied Captain Restronguet leaning sideways to
watch the cruiser, that, a thousand feet below, looked no larger than a
model boat. "Your friend Dewerstone has given the show away."
"I think not," replied the sub confidently. "He told me he was on leave
till the day after to-morrow."
"Where's your ship, Tretheway?" shouted Jenkins.
"Away beyond Bawi Island. There she is."
"Rum looking craft, anyway," commented the aviator. "Looks more like a
dog's kennel to me."
"Thanks," remarked Captain Restronguet in an undertone; then louder he
added, "She's hove-to. If you come down within hailing distance they'll
range up alongside to pick us up; they haven't a boat."
"Haven't a boat," ejaculated Jenkins. "Rum craft. Look here----"
He ended abruptly, for with a report like a pistol shot one of the wires
supporting the wing plane snapped. The aero-hydroplane began to tilt
ominously. Hythe and his companion instinctively realizing that a
disaster was imminent grasped the rods nearest to hand in a grip of
iron.
Pluckily the aviator strove by manipulating the elevating rudder to
restore the doomed aircraft's equilibrium, but in vain. He, therefore,
shut off the engine and attempted a vol-plane. Already the air-craft
was standing almost on its nose, and falling with fearful velocity, till
Captain Restronguet slid out of his seat and was prevented from falling
clear only by his grasp upon a metal rod.
Finding that the machine was quite out of control, Jenkins touched a
lever with his foot. Instantly a length of stout canvas trailed out
astern. Before the aero-hydroplane had descended another fifteen feet
the canvas, distended by the resistance of the air, took the shape of a
huge parachute. The fall, though still rapid, was appreciably retarded,
while the three men, literally hanging on tooth and nail, became aware
that hope was not yet dead.
With a tremendous splash the wrecked aero-hydroplane struck the water.
Hythe found himself torn from his support, and plunging feet below the
waves. Fearing that he might be entangled in the sinking machine he
struck out and swam a considerable distance ere he rose to the surface.
Shaking the water out of his eyes, he looked around. The
aero-hydroplane was still floating, but with a heavy list. The
concussion had burst the seams of one of her floats, which was now
completely filled with water, while the other was leaking slightly.
Clinging to the still buoyant float were the captain and Jenkins. The
"Aphrodite" was nowhere to be seen.
"We're all right for the present," called out the former cheerily. "The
water's warm and I have not seen any sharks about, and the cruiser will
bear down and pick us up."
"Where's your ship, Tretheway?" asked the aviator anxiously. "We were
falling close to where she was hove-to."
"I'm rather afraid she didn't spot us," replied Captain Restronguet.
"And seeing the 'Topaze' approaching, she dived."
"Dived!" exclaimed the astounded Jenkins. "What d'ye mean? You don't
mean to tell me the ship you belong to is a submarine?"
"It is," assented the Captain coolly.
"Not that rascally 'Vorwartz' by any chance?"
"No."
"Well, then, what's her name? I haven't heard of any other submarine in
these waters."
"Not the 'Aphrodite'?"
"Don't try to be funny, Tretheway. You know as well as I do that that
submarine was blown to atoms."
"I am afraid, my dear Jenkins, that I cannot agree with you. The
'Aphrodite' is even now submerged in the Zanzibar Channel, and I--whom
you know as Hugh Tretheway--I am Captain John Restronguet."