"That is three days ago," continued the Colonel, still thinking aloud,
"and here are four similar messages from other sources showing quite
plainly the route taken. Great Heavens! if I were not tied to my desk
in this place, I would take the fastest scout in the country and chase
this infernal night-wizard myself."
A soft tap at the door startled the Commissioner, for during the last
three days he had become highly nervous; this affair was getting on his
mind, but he recovered himself instantly and called out in a deep
voice:--
"Come in!"
The door opened softly and his confidential secretary entered, and
announced:--
"Two more cables and a wireless message, sir."
"Anything from Keane or Sharpe yet?" demanded the chief.
"Nothing, sir."
"Then what are these confounded things?"
"More about that aerial brigand, sir."
"Let me see them," and Jones handed the messages to his chief.
Consternation and alarm were both visible on the face of Tempest as he
read the news.
"So the devil has already got to work, Jones," he remarked, quoting from
the sheets, laconic phrases such as "Oil tanks at Port Said burning for
three days. Crew of mysterious aeroplane suspected." (Delayed in
transit.) "Wireless station at Karachi utterly destroyed, after brief
visit by strange airmen." The third was a wireless message which proved
most disconcerting of all to the Commissioner. It announced that a
silent aeroplane, showing no distinctive marks whatever, passed over
Delhi "this afternoon" at a speed estimated at not less than three
hundred miles an hour.
The chief of the aerial police leaned back in his chair and groaned.
"Three hundred miles an hour!" he gasped; "but the silent aeroplane idea
is a fallacy. It is impossible with any type of internal-combustion
engine. It must either have been too high up for the good people of
Delhi to hear it, or its engines must have been shut off, or well
throttled down. Bah! I know too much about aeroplanes to swallow
that." Then rounding upon Jones, who was standing by awaiting
instructions, he said sharply:--
"Did that second message go out to Keane?"
"Yes, sir."
"And there's still no reply from him?"
"Nothing whatever, sir."
"H'm. I cannot understand it. Send it out again by wireless telephone;
he may be on his way back by aeroplane now, and possibly within reach."
"Right, sir," and Jones disappeared to stab the ether waves again in
search of Keane. At that moment the telephone bell on the Commissioner's
desk rang. It was the Home Secretary asking for Colonel Tempest, for
the same messages concerning the aerial brigand had reached him.
"Hello, Tempest; is that you?"
"Yes; who is that?"
"Lord Hamilton, speaking from the Home Office."
"Oh, yes, my lord."
"I say, Tempest, what is this news just to hand about aerial highwaymen
romping half round the British empire, destroying wireless stations, and
burning out the big oil tanks along the All-Red Route? I thought you
had all these aerial criminals well in hand. There'll be a deuce of a
row about all this when Parliament meets in two days' time."
"Well, er--we're doing our best to deal with it, sir, but it will take
time to lay these fellows by the heel, I fear."
"Have you got the matter in hand?"
"Yes, sir."
"What have you done? I shall be bombarded with questions shortly; in
fact, the Colonial Secretary's here now. He's complaining that the
routes are not sufficiently well patrolled. What steps have you taken
to deal with these marauders?"
"I've wirelessed to all the aerial stations, to get their fastest scouts
out all along the line at once to look for these bandits, and I'm
staying on here all night expecting news every moment."
"Very well. Keep me informed of everything that happens. It's becoming
very serious. You have full powers to deal effectively with these
criminals, and they may be shot down at sight if they don't respond to
signals."
Then, as the angry minister rang off, another tap was heard at the door,
and the imperturbable Jones entered once more, and announced:
"Message from Keane and Sharpe came in whilst you were speaking on the
telephone, sir."
"Good!" ejaculated Tempest, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow,
for he had expected something much worse from the Home Secretary. "What
does the message say?"
"They received my last message, sir, and are on their way home by the
fastest aeroplane. They are due at Hounslow aerodrome at midnight."
"Excellent! What time is it now, Jones?"
"It wants ten minutes to midnight, sir, and I have sent out the fastest
car to meet them and bring them straight here. They should be here in
half an hour, sir."
"Have you told them at Hounslow?"
"Yes, sir, and they have already got out the coloured lights and the
ground flares."
"You have done well, Jones, but you had better not leave the office
to-night. I'm very sorry, but I may want you. This is urgent business;
we're up against something this time, and unless Keane and Sharpe have
found something out, we're going to be beaten."
"I'll stay, sir, but what about you? This is your third night-sitting,
and you've had nothing since lunch. Shall I order supper for you?"
"Oh, thanks, Jones, but I'd forgotten. Yes, you may order me coffee and
a sandwich, and get something for yourself. You're getting the strain
as well, and I don't want you to break down."
When left alone, Colonel Tempest once more began to pace the
soft-carpeted room, much as a captain paces the bridge when his thoughts
are unduly disturbed by some untoward event during the watch of the
second officer. Every other minute he consulted his watch, and wondered
why the time passed so slowly. Twice he rang down to the lobby
attendant and asked if Captain Keane had arrived, and twice the same
answer was returned.
Then he looked at the maps on the wall, and followed with his finger the
trail of the All-Red Route which the aerial liners followed, linking up
the empire and half the world. Now and again he would glance shrewdly
at the large map of Germany, as a skipper eyes the weather quarter when
a storm is brewing. Occasionally he would murmur half aloud:--
"A silent engine ... three hundred miles an hour. Gee whiz! but they
have beaten us two to one. We shall never catch them."
Then a slight sound caught his ears from outside the great building.
The soft purr of an approaching Rolls-Royce motor and the sharp blast of
a Klaxon horn followed.
"At last!" he cried. "Here they come!"
*CHAPTER IV*
*A MIDNIGHT CONSULTATION*
The next moment the door burst open and two men in flying helmets and
leathern coats entered the room, and saluted the Colonel. Without any
ceremony the latter greeted them warmly, almost joyously, for their
cheerful presence gave almost instant relief to his over-burdened mind.
"Good evening, Keane. Good evening, Sharpe," he exclaimed, stepping
forward and gripping each of them warmly by the hand.
"Good evening, sir."
"Now, have you discovered anything?" began the chief, without waiting
for them to divest themselves of their heavy gear.
Keane looked at the Commissioner for a second or two and then
answered:--
"Yes, and no, Colonel."
"H'm. That means something and nothing, I presume."
"Exactly, sir," continued Keane, who acted the part of spokesman. Then,
speaking more solemnly, and in lowered tones, he continued, "We are up
against something abnormal; I had almost said something supernatural.
When you recalled us we were hot on the trail of the man who, in my
opinion, is behind this conspiracy."
"You mean this Professor Weissmann?" added the chief of the aerial
police.
Keane nodded.
"I thought so. This man is evidently an evil genius of very high mental
calibre, and he has determined, out of personal revenge for the defeat
of Germany, to thwart the Allies, and in particular Great Britain."
"He is a master-mind, and a highly dangerous personality; dangerous
because he is so clever. And now that he has secured a few daring
airmen for his tools, there is no end to the possibilities which his
evil genius may accomplish before he and his crew are run to earth,"
replied Captain Keane.
"I know it, I know it--look here!" and the colonel handed him the batch
of cables and wireless messages which showed how the _Scorpion_ had
already got to work.
"H'm! and there will be worse to follow," added the airman after he had
glanced through the list.
"Now, tell me briefly what you have found, Keane, after which we must
get to work to devise some immediate plan to thwart these aerial
brigands. But first take off your flying gear, and sit by the fire, for
you must be hungry, tired and numbed after that cold night ride." Then,
ringing for his attendant, he ordered up more strong coffee and
sandwiches.
"Thanks, Colonel, I will not refuse. It was indeed a cold ride, and we
had no time to get refreshments before leaving the aerodrome at Cologne
this evening," said Sharpe, as he divested himself of his heavy gear,
sat by the fire and enjoyed the coffee which soon arrived.
A few moments later, the three men were engaged in serious conversation,
although the hour of midnight had long since been tolled out by Big Ben.
"You sent me," Keane was saying, "to discover the whereabouts of this
great German engineer and man of science, this brain wave whose
perverted genius is likely to cost us so dear."
"And you were unable to find any trace of him?" interposed the chief.
"Well, we were unable to come into contact with him, for we found that
since peace was concluded he had vacated his professorial chair at
Heidelberg University, where he had been engaged for some considerable
time, not only on some mechanical production, but in an attempt to
discover some unknown force, evidently a new kind of highly compressed
gas to be used for propulsive purposes."
"Had he been successful?"
"That, it was impossible to find out during our short stay over there,"
replied Keane, "but I discovered from someone who had been in close
touch with him just about the time peace was signed, that he had
expressed himself in very hopeful terms."
"Was he a very communicative type of man, then, did you learn?"
"No; on the contrary, he seldom spoke of his work, but on this occasion,
when he communicated this information, he was very much annoyed at the
defeat of Germany, and considered that his country had been betrayed
into a hasty peace."
"And what happened to him after that?" asked the colonel.
"Shortly afterwards he disappeared completely, taking with him all the
apparatus connected with his research work, also a highly skilled
mechanic who had been specially trained by him for a number of years.
But he left not a trace of himself or his work," said the captain,
pausing for a moment to light a cigarette.
"Do you think he is acting under any instructions from his authorities?"
"No, certainly not; he distrusts his present Government entirely, and
considers them traitors to the Fatherland."
There was another brief silence, whilst the three men, wrapt in deep
thought, sat looking into the fire, or watched the rings of tobacco
smoke curling upwards to the ceiling. At last, Captain Sharpe
observed:--
"A powerful intellect like that did not suddenly disappear in this way
without some ulterior motive, Colonel Tempest."
"Obviously not," returned the latter briefly, for he was deep in
contemplation, and his mind was searching for some clue. At length he
turned to the senior captain and said:--
"This silent engine theory, Keane, what do you think of it?"
Keane shook his head doubtfully, and the colonel handed to him once more
the recent wireless message from Delhi, adding merely:--
"Do you think it possible?"
"Scarcely," replied Keane carefully, "but with a master mind like this,
one never knows. It will be necessary for you to consult the most
eminent professors of science and chemistry at once."
"I intend to visit Professor Verne at his house first thing to-morrow,
or rather to-day, for it is already morning."
"But the aeroplane," added Sharpe, who had been perusing the Delhi
message, "this also must have been specially built for this new gas."
"Given the one, the other would naturally follow, and would be the
lesser task of the two, for this man is a great engineer as well," said
Keane.
"It is a deep well of mystery," continued Tempest after another pause;
"but something must be done at once. To-morrow the morning papers will
be full of it. Next day Parliament meets, and questions will be asked,
and it will all come upon us. I shall have to meet the Home Secretary
as soon as I have interviewed Professor Verne, and Lord Hamilton will
not be easily satisfied. The public will also be clamouring for
information on the subject, and they will have to be appeased and
calmed. The Stock Exchange will begin to talk also, and to demand
compensation for the companies whose properties have been damaged.
Insurance rates, marine and otherwise, will be raised, and Lloyd's
underwriters will not fail to make a fuss. Now, gentlemen, what steps
can we take to deal with these raiders in the immediate future?"
Send us after this mystery 'plane on fast scouts with plenty of
machine-gun ammunition," urged Sharpe.
"I cannot spare you for that, but I have already ordered strong patrols
of aerial police to search for the brigands. I must have you here or
somewhere within call. At any rate, I cannot let you go further than
Germany. It may be necessary to send you there again."
"On what account, sir?" asked Keane.
"To find the aerodrome which this raider calls 'home,' for he must have
a rendezvous somewhere if only to obtain supplies and repairs."
"And that secret aerodrome must be somewhere in Germany, hidden away in
some out-of-the-way place," ventured Sharpe.
"But in what part of Germany?" asked the commissioner.
"Let me see," cried Keane, rising to his feet, and walking across the
room to where the large map of Germany hung upon the wall--"why, it must
be in the Schwarzwald!"
"The Schwarzwald!" exclaimed the other two.
"Yes, it is by far the best hiding-place in the whole country. One may
tramp for days and never see a soul. It must be somewhere in the
Schwarzwald."
"Then to the Schwarzwald you must go to-morrow, adopting whatever
disguises you desire, and you must find this hidden spot where the
conspiracy has been hatched," concluded the colonel.
*CHAPTER V*
*THE AERIAL LINER*
The airship liner, _Empress of India_, was preparing to leave her
moorings, just outside the ancient city of Delhi, for Cairo and London.
This mammoth airship was one of the finest vessels which sailed
regularly from London, east and west, girdling the world, and linking up
the British Empire along the All-Red Route. She had few passengers, as
she carried an unusually heavy cargo of mails for Egypt and England, and
a considerable amount of specie for the Bank of England. Several persons
of note, however, figured amongst her saloon passengers, including the
Maharajah of Bangapore, an Anglo-Indian judge, and a retired colonel of
the Indian army.
She was timed to depart at mid-day, and during the morning mailplanes
had been arriving from every part of India with their cargoes of
mail-bags, already sorted for the western trip.
The great mammoth now rode easily with the wind, moored by three stout
cables to the great tower which rose above the roof gardens of the
air-station. An electric lift conveyed the passengers and mails to the
summit of this lofty tower, from whence a covered-in gangway led to the
long corridors which lined the interior of the rigid airship.
"Have all the engines been tested?" the captain asks of the chief
engineer, as he comes aboard with his navigating officer.
"Yes, sir."
"All the passengers aboard?" he asks next of the ground officer.
"All except the maharajah, Captain, and I expect him any moment."
"Excellent," replied the skipper. "There's a good deal of bullion
aboard from the Indian banks, I hear, and the rajah himself is likely
touring a lot of valuables with him, I understand, as he is to attend
several court functions at St. James's Palace."
"Yes, sir. I hope you won't meet that aerial raider," replied the
ground officer.
"Poof! What can he do? He can't board us in mid-air! Besides, I hear
that the aerial police are on his track, and that all their fast scouts
are patrolling the mail routes."
"Yes, you'll have an aerial escort with you for the first two hundred
miles, Captain. They'll pick you up shortly after you leave here."
"Absolutely a waste of time. The police could be much better employed
in searching for these rascals."
"Well, perhaps you're right," replied the ground official. "They
certainly cannot board you in mid-air, as you observe, and they cannot
set you on fire as they did the early Zeppelins, for helium won't burn."
This conversation was interrupted by shouts and cheers which reached the
speakers from down below.
"Hullo! here comes the rajah. I must go down and welcome him," said the
captain, as a fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of the great
Indian chief.
Then, with all the ceremonial and pomp of the East, the Maharajah of
Bangapore was welcomed aboard the luxurious air-liner, and, accompanied
by his personal attendants, he was shown with much obsequiousness to his
private saloon. His baggage, containing treasures worth a king's
ransom, was likewise transferred, under the supervision of his
chamberlain, from the ground to his suite of apartments.
The clock in the palace of the Great Mogul in the old city of Delhi
strikes twelve, and the captain's voice is heard once more, as he speaks
from the rear gondola:--
"All ready?"
"Yes, sir, all clear!"
A button is pressed and the water ballast tanks discharge their cargo to
lighten the ship, and then swiftly comes the final order:--
"Let go!"
And as the cables are slipped from the mooring tower, the light gangway
is drawn back, the crowd down below cheer, and the giant airship backs
out, carried by the force of the wind alone till she is well clear of
the station. Then her engines open up gradually. She turns until her
nose points almost due west, then slips away on her four thousand miles'
journey over many a classic land, desert, forest and sea towards the
centre of the world's greatest empire.
About four o'clock that afternoon, as Judge Jefferson sat and talked
with his friend Colonel Wilson in one of the rear gondolas where smoking
was permitted, he remarked that this was his seventh trip home to
England by the aerial route, and declared that he could well spend the
rest of his lifetime in such a pleasant mode of travel.
"There's no fatigue whatever," he added; "nothing of the jolt and jar
which you get in the railway carriage. As for the journey by sea, I was
so ill during my last voyage that I simply couldn't face the sea again.
A storm at sea is of all things the most uncomfortable. If we meet with
a storm on the air-route we can either go above it or pass on one side,
as most storms are only local affairs."
"Not to speak of the time that is wasted by land or sea-travel," added
the colonel.
"Exactly," replied the judge.
"Only to think that in forty-eight hours we shall be in London, even
allowing for a two hours' stay in Cairo to pick up further mails and
passengers."
"Wonderful! Wonderful!" agreed his companion.
"And the absence of heat is some consideration, when travelling in a
land like India," continued the colonel as he flicked off the end of his
cigar.
"Yes. The stifling heat, particularly in May, June and July, when you
get the hot dry winds, is altogether insufferable in those stuffy
railway carriages, while up here it is delightfully cool and bracing,
and the view is magnificent."
"Hullo! what is that fine river down there?" asked the judge, as he
looked down through the clear, tropical atmosphere on to the delightful
landscape of river, plain and forest three thousand feet below.
"Oh, that must be the Indus, the King River of Vedic poetry, a wonderful
stream, two thousand miles in length," said the colonel, consulting his
pocket map.
"Can it really be the Indus?"
"It is indeed."
"Then we have already travelled four hundred miles since noon across the
burning plains of India, and we have reached the confines of this
wonderful land," replied Jefferson.
"Yes, we have indeed. We shall soon enter the native state of
Baluchistan. See yonder, right ahead of us, I can already make out the
highest peaks of the Sulaiman Mountains. We are already rising to cross
them."
"And this evening we shall cross the troubled territory of Afghanistan."
"Yes," replied the colonel, "and by midnight, if all goes well, we shall
be sailing over Persia."
"Persia, the land of enchantment," mused the judge.
"And of the _Arabian Nights_, those wonderful tales which charmed our
boyhood--the land of Aladdin, of the wonderful lamp, and the magic
carpet."
"The magic carpet," laughed the judge. "This is the real magic carpet.
The author of that wonderful story never dreamt that the day would
really come when the traveller from other lands, reclining in luxury,
would be carried through the air across his native land, by day or by
night, at twice the flight of a bird."
And so these two men talked about these wonderful classic lands over
which they were sailing so serenely, of Zoroaster, the great Persian
teacher of other days, of Ahura Mazda, the All-Wise, and the Cobbler of
Baghdad, until the tea-bell startled them.
Then, finding they were hungry because the bracing air had made them so,
they passed on to the snug little tea-room, where, amid the palm-trees
and the orchids, they listened to soft dulcet notes from a small Indian
orchestra which accompanied the maharajah. Here, they sipped delicious
china tea from dainty Persian cups, and appeased their hunger, as best
they could, from the tiny portions of alluring _patisserie_ which
usually accompany afternoon tea.
But, later that evening, they did ample justice to a fuller and nobler
banquet, which had been prepared for them in the gilded and lofty dining
saloon; for they were the honoured guests of the Maharajah of Bangapore.
And he entertained them right royally as befitted one of his princely
rank.
And in all the wondrous folk-lore and tradition of the ancient Persian
kings, was there ever a more regal banquet, or one more conspicuous by
the splendour of its oriental wealth than this long-protracted feast?
Rich emblazoned goblets of gold, bejewelled with rare and precious gems,
adorned the table, for the prince had brought his household treasures;
they were to him his household gods, and heirlooms of priceless worth.
Never the Lydian flute played sweeter music than these soft native airs
which wandered amid the eastern skies, as, under the silver moon, the
long, glistening, pearl-like airship sailed on beneath the stars, while
down, far down below, lay the ruins of Persepolis, where the ancient
kings of Persia slept their last long sleep.
*CHAPTER VI*
*AN UP-TO-DATE CABIN BOY*
While the great, mammoth air-liner is racing like a meteor across the
eastern skies, on its way to Cairo and London, it is necessary to
introduce to the reader a chirpy, little fellow called Gadget. In fact,
this cute little chap, who stood a matter of four feet two inches in his
stockinged feet, deserves a chapter or two all to himself.
Now Gadget did not belong to the passengers, nor did his name appear at
all in that distinguished list. Neither did he rightly belong to the
crew, except in the matter of his own opinion--on which subject he held
very pronounced views. But he certainly did belong to the airship, and
appeared to be part of the apparatus, or maybe the fixtures and effects.
He certainly knew the run of that great liner, every nook and corner of
it, better even than the purser or the navigating officer.
To tell the truth, this insignificant but perky little bit of humanity
was a stowaway, who had determined, at twelve years of age, to see the
world, at the expense of somebody else. How he came aboard, and hid
himself amongst the mail-bags, until the airship had sailed a thousand
miles over land and sea, still remains a mystery. But it happened that,
when the _Empress of India_ was crossing the blue waters of the Adriatic
sea, on her outward voyage, there came a tap at the captain's door one
afternoon when the latter had just retired for a brief spell.
"Come in!" called the air-skipper, in rather surly tones, wondering what
had happened to occasion this interruption.
The next instant, the chief officer entered the little state-room,
leading by a bit of string, attached to one of his nether garments, the
most tattered-looking, diminutive, but perky little street Arab the
captain had ever beheld.
"What in the name of goodness have you got there, Crabtree?" exclaimed
the skipper, starting up from his comfortable bunk, at this apparition.
"Stowaway, sir!" replied the officer briefly.
"Stowaway?" echoed the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you find him?"
"Didn't find him, sir. He gave himself up just now. Says he's been
hiding amongst the mail-bags. What shall I do with him, sir?"
"Tie him to a parachute and drop him overboard as soon as we are over
the land again," shouted the captain in angry tones. "I won't have any
stowaways aboard my ship."
This was said more to frighten the little imp than with real intent,
though the air-skipper spoke in angry tones, as if he meant what he
said. He was evidently very much annoyed at this discovery.
"He's half-frozen, sir," interposed the chief officer in more kindly
tones.
"Humph! Of course he is," added the captain. "This keen, biting wind
at three thousand feet above the sea must have turned his marrow cold.
Besides, he hasn't enough clothes to cover a rabbit decently. Just look
at him!"
The little chap's eyes sparkled, and his face flushed a little at this
reference to his scant wardrobe. But he knew by the changed tone in the
captain's voice that the worst was now over. He had not even heard a
reference to the proverbial rope's-end, a vision which he had always
associated in his mind with stowaways.
"My word, he's a plucky little urchin, Crabtree!" declared the
air-skipper at length, his anger settling down, and his admiration for
the adventurous little gamin asserting itself as he gazed at the ragged
but sharp-eyed little fellow.
"What is your name, Sonny?" he asked at length.
"Gadget, sir," whipped out the stowaway.
"Good enough!" returned the captain smiling. "We've plenty of gadgets
aboard the airship, and I guess another won't make much difference.
What do you say, Crabtree?"
"Oh, we'll find something for him to do, sir. And we'll make him earn
his keep. He's an intelligent little shrimp, anyhow."
"How old are you, Gadget?" asked the captain.
"Twelve, sir!" replied the gamin.
"Father and mother dead, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir."
"Been left to look after yourself, Gadget, I reckon, haven't you?" said
the skipper kindly, as he gave one more searching glance at the small
urchin, and noted how the little blue lips quivered, despite the brave
young heart behind them.
There was no reply this time, for even the poor, ill-treated lad could
not bring himself to speak of his up-bringing.
"Never mind, Gadget...!" interposed the skipper, changing the subject.
"So you determined to see the world, did you, my boy?"
"Yessir!" came the reply, and again the sharp eyes twinkled.
"Well, you shall go round the world with me, if you are a good boy.
But, if you don't behave, mark my words"--and here the captain raised
his voice as if in anger--"I'll drop you overboard by parachute, and
leave you behind! Do you understand?"
The urchin promised to behave himself, and, in language redolent of
Whitechapel, began to thank the captain effusively.
"There, that will do! Take him away, and get him a proper rig-out,
Crabtree," said the skipper impatiently. "I never saw such a
tatterdemalion in all my life."
"Come along, now, Gadget," ordered the chief officer, giving a little
tug at the frayed rope, which he had been holding all this while, and,
which, in some unaccountable way, seemed to hold the urchin's wardrobe
together.
This little tug, however, had dire results, in-so-far as the above
mentioned wardrobe was concerned. It immediately became obvious that it
not only served as braces to the little gamin, but also as a girdle,
which kept in a sort of suspended animation Gadget's circulating library
and commissariat. For, even as the janitor and his prisoner turned, the
rope became undone, and, though Gadget by a rapid movement retained the
nether part of his tattered apparel in position, yet his library--which
consisted of a dirty, grease-stained, much worn volume--and his
commissariat--composed of sundry fragments of dry crusts of bread
wrapped in half a newspaper--immediately became dislodged by the
movement, and showered themselves in a dozen fragments at the captain's
feet.
"Snakes alive! what have we here?" demanded that august person, as he
stooped and picked up the book. Then he laughed outright, as he read
aloud from the grubby, much-thumbed title page:--
_Five weeks in a Balloon_ ... by Jules Verne.
The mate grinned too. He remembered how that same book had thrilled
him, not so long ago either. And, perhaps, after all, it was the same
with Captain Rogers.
"Where did you get this, Gadget?" asked the captain, reopening the
conversation, after this little accident.
"Bought it of Jimmy Dale, sir," replied the boy readily.
"And how much did you pay for it?"
"Gev 'im my braces, an' a piece o' tar band for it, sir."
The captain ceased to laugh, and looked at the boy's earnest face. And
something suspiciously like a tear glistened in the eyes of the airman,
as he replied:--
"You actually gave away to another urchin an important part of your
scanty wardrobe to get possession of this book?"
"Oh, it wur a fair bargen, sir. Jimmy found the book on a dust heap,
but I wasn't takin' it fur nothin'. And then Jimmy never had any
braces."
"I see. Very well, you can go now, Gadget. Mr. Crabtree will find you
some better clothes, and get you some food. Then you shall report to me
to-morrow. See, here is your treasured book," said the skipper,
dismissing the urchin once more.
"Thank you, sir," returned the boy, pulling a lock of unkempt hair which
hung over his forehead, by way of salute. "I'll lend you the book, sir,
if you'll take care of it," and the chief officer smiled as he led the
little chap away.
So that was how Gadget became part of the fixtures and apparatus of the
air liner. He was more than an adventurer, was Gadget. He might even
have been an inventor or a discoverer, if he had met with better fortune
in the choice of his parents. His sharp, young brain was full of great
ideas.
In less than a couple of days, rigged out in a smart pair of overalls,
which had been very considerably cut down, he was soon perfectly at home
aboard the great liner. But then he was so adaptable. As an up-to-date
cabin boy, the captain declared that he never knew his equal.
He became a general favourite, and in a very short space of time he
discovered more about airships and internal-combustion engines than many
a man would have learnt in six months.
It was no use, therefore, to argue with the boy that he didn't belong to
the crew of the _Empress_. And it just wasn't worth while to inform him
that, as he was still of school age, he would be handed over to the
authorities, or placed in a reformatory, as soon as the vessel returned
to England. Gadget had made up his mind that he wouldn't. In a little
while it even became an open question whether Gadget belonged to the
airship or the airship belonged to Gadget.
"I hain't argefyin' with you, I'm telling ye. This is the way it should
be done!" he was heard to remark to one of the air mechanics one day,
after he had been on the vessel about a week. The point at issue
concerned a piece of work on which the mechanic was engaged, and Gadget
had even dared to express his point of view. The extraordinary thing
was that Gadget was right.
Ships and railway engines were all right in their way, but they were not
good enough for Gadget. Aeroplanes and airships were much more to his
liking. He was thoroughly alive and up-to-date, and though some months
ago, when this fever of world travel first seized upon him, he had more
than once considered the question of stowing himself quietly away on
some outward bound vessel from the West India Docks in London, his
fortunate discovery, and ultimate possession of that tattered copy of
_Five Weeks in a Balloon_, had caused him to change his views.
Ever since reading that volume he had had no rest. Even his dreams had
been mainly concerning balloons and their modern equivalents, airships.
"I will see the world from an airship," he had confidently announced to
himself one day. "I will sail over tropical forests and lagoons, over
deserts and jungles."
This had been his dream and his prayer. But unlike many older folk,
Gadget had left no stone unturned in order to answer his own prayer. He
had carefully followed the newspapers (for he had earned many a shilling
by selling them) for the movements of the new air liner and the opening
up of the All-Red Route. And when the time had arrived for the airship
to sail, watching his opportunity the little fellow had smuggled himself
on board, and here he was, having now almost sailed around the world,
crossing the Arabian desert on the homeward voyage.
*CHAPTER VII*
*A DUEL WITH WORDS*
Gadget's activities, however, were not confined merely to the duties of
cabin boy, although his diminutive size and his rapidity of movement
made him very useful in that capacity. To fetch and carry for the
skipper or chief officer along that 670 feet of keel corridor was to him
a life of sparkle and animation. But, when no particular duty called
him, the pulsating mechanism of that mighty leviathan irresistibly
attracted him.
His round, closely cropped, well shaped head, and his roguish little
face, would suddenly appear in the wireless cabin or in one of the four
gondolas, where the powerful Sunbeam-Maori engines drove the whirling
propellers.
Ship's mascot and general favourite though he was, his sharp wits soon
enabled him to make himself almost indispensable. At length, however,
the everlasting call seemed to be----
"Gadget! Gadget! Where is the little rascal? What mischief is he up
to now?"
For it must be admitted that the overwhelming curiosity of the urchin
sometimes got him into trouble. In this respect he had particularly
fallen foul of Morgan, the third engineer, a short, stout, somewhat
stumpy type of Welshman, whose spell of duty generally confined his
activities to the care of the twin-engines in the rear gondola.
It appears that Gadget had unwittingly broken the rules and regulations
of the airship by smuggling two parcels of tobacco aboard during a brief
stay in one of the air ports. He knew full well that a little fortune
awaited the man who could unload smuggled tobacco down the Whitechapel
Road, and the temptation had been too great for him. He had been
discovered, however, and the captain had punished him for the offence.
Now, Gadget was still smarting under this punishment when one day he
startled the third engineer by his sudden and unlooked for appearance in
the rear gondola.
"How now, you little rascal!" exclaimed Morgan, throwing a greasy rag at
the boy. "How much did you make on that tobacco?"
"Stop smokin' on dooty, will yer, an' mind yer own bisness!" rasped out
the urchin, feeling that both his dignity and importance were being
imperilled by this reference to his recent offence.
"Go away!" snarled the bad-tempered Welshman, surreptitiously hiding the
still smoking cigarette.
"Yah! Why don't yer get more 'revs' out o' those rear engines?" yapped
the insulting little Cockney boy, repeating a few words used by the
captain himself the day before, and preparing to beat a hasty retreat
through the doorway.
"You dirty ragamuffin!" shouted the stout man, flushing with anger, and
hurling the oil can, which he held in his hand, at the gamin.
For one instant the tantalising little street arab disappeared on the
other side of the door, but, when the missile had spent its force, and
had crumpled up against the panelling, leaving a pool of oil on the
floor, the urchin's head reappeared once more. The opportunity was too
good to be lost. All the vivacity of the boy was pitted against the hot
tempered Welshman, and Gadget was a master of invective, and had a
wonderful command of high sounding words, the real meaning of which,
however, he did not properly understand. But he was just dying for
another of these encounters, so common in his experience of things down
Stepney way, or along the West India Dock Road.
"Call yerself an ingineer?" came the next gibe from the saucy, impudent
little face, now distorted into something grotesque and ugly. "We'll be
two hours late at Cairo, an' all because you ain't fit to stoke a
donkey-ingine."
"Ger-r-r-o-u-t!" shouted the angry man, making a rush for his tormentor.
"I'll break your head if you come in here again!"
"I'd like ter see yer!" came the tart reply, ten seconds later, as the
head reappeared once again, for Gadget had retreated swiftly some way
down the keel corridor, as his opponent made for him with a huge
spanner.
The engineer had determined to lock the door of the little engine-room
against the little stinging gad-fly, but of course the sharp-witted
rascal had outwitted, or "spike-bozzled" him, as they say in the Air
Force, by snatching the key and locking the communication-door on the
outer side.
Morgan was beginning to find out to his cost that it was a very unwise
proceeding to cross the path of this pertinacious stowaway. He could
not get rid of him, and this morning, after the skipper's recent
remarks, he was trying to recover his lost reputation by extra attention
to his engines. Besides, the captain would be along on his rounds again
soon, and, if the engines were not doing their accustomed revolutions,
there might be trouble.
Thinking he had now got rid of his tormentor, Morgan turned to examine
his engines, when the key turned softly in the lock once more, and the
irrepressible mascot, peering through the slightly open door, grinned,
and then gave vent to the one word, which means so much:--
"Spike-bozzled! Yah!"
"You're a little villain!" roared the engineer.
"You're an incubus!" retorted Gadget.
"Go away!"
"Swollen head, that's what you've got!"
"By St. David, if I catch you, I'll----" cried the now exasperated
Welshman.
"Abnormal circumference--distended stummick, that's what you're
sufferin' from. The capten says so!" replied Gadget as a parting shot.
This ungentle reference to his personal symmetry was too much for the
engineer, and he made another wild rush in the direction of his
opponent. This time, Gadget had no opportunity to lock the door, but,
turning round, he bolted precipitately down the long keel corridor,
cannoning into the chief officer, who was just coming along to the rear
gondola, and receiving a somewhat violent cuff on the head from that
dignified official, whose gravity had been gravely endangered by this
sudden encounter.
"Here, you little rascal, take that!" cried the angry officer, and
Gadget, glad to get away on such slight terms, and feeling that he had
given his opponent value for his money, scampered off, and made his way
to the wireless cabin.
Here he assumed immediately an attitude of respectful attention, and
even prevailed on the officer in charge to give him another lesson on
the Morse code, for the urchin had a wonderful range of feeling which
enabled him at a moment's notice to adapt himself to the circumstances
of his environment.
"Wonderful, Gadget! You're making rapid progress. You shall have a
lesson in taking down messages, to-morrow. You have the making of a
good wireless operator in you. I shall speak to the captain about it."
"Thank you, sir," replied the _gamin_, pulling his lock of hair by way
of salute. This lock of hair, by the way, at the urchin's special
request, had been left there, when the famous "R. D. clippers" had shorn
off the rest of the crop, when the airship's barber had overhauled and
close-reefed him, soon after his first encounter with the captain.
Gadget's next visit was to the little photographic cabin, where the
wonderful negatives and bioscope films were carefully prepared. These
were to record to the world at large the wonderful panorama of the earth
and sky, photographed from the great air-liner on her wonderful trip.
Here, again, by his artful, winning way, which Gadget knew how to adopt
when circumstances demanded it, the little urchin was on good terms with
the photographic officer. The latter, who admired the boy's character
and wit, and pitied his upbringing, had declared more than once that
Gadget possessed in a large degree that intuitive genius which belongs
to greatness, and prophesied a brilliant future for the neglected boy,
if only he could be properly trained.
"Come to me for an hour a day, Gadget, when the captain does not require
your services, and I will teach you photography. Some day you shall
have a camera of your own, and who knows, you may become a great film
operator." And the grateful boy was only too quick to learn what these
skilful operators had to teach.
So, into this new life of adventure and travel, this little urchin
entered with all the zest and enthusiasm of which he was capable, making
many friends, and an occasional enemy. And all the while the great
airship, glistening in the tropical sun, sailed on across the wide
stretch of desert which lies between India and Egypt, along the line of
the thirtieth parallel.
*CHAPTER VIII*
*SONS OF THE DESERT*
The tropical sun looked fiercely down upon the burning sands of the
Hamadian Desert. North, south, east and west, as far as the eye could
reach, in every direction, the illimitable waste of desert stretched,
save only at one pleasant, fertile spot, where a cluster of date and
lofty palm trees fringed the banks of a silent pool.
A small encampment of Bedouins, sons of the desert, fierce-looking and
proud, occupied this charming spot. Three small tents and a larger one,
a camouflaged fabric, part of the loot of the garrison of Kut, completed
the camp. There were a dozen men all told, and as many noble, fiery
Arab steeds. The men were well armed, with modern weapons, too. There
had been too much loot in the Mesopotamian campaign during recent years
for the Arab sheik and his followers to find much difficulty in securing
the very pick of European weapons, ammunition and equipment. But one
thing was evident--all these men were not real sons of the desert.
Three of them at least were Europeans, as the reader will shortly
perceive.
An atmosphere of subdued excitement, primed with expectancy, seemed to
pervade the camp. The whole party were eagerly watching and waiting for
something. But what caravan, with its tinkling bells, its camels and
spices, its rich silks and ladings from Persia or from Damascus had
awakened the predatory instincts of these kings of the desert? Besides,
were they not too few in number to engage a well-armed band of Baghdad
merchants?
Nay, it was no rich argosy of the desert that these fierce men expected;
their eyes were directed one and all towards the skies, for the days had
now arrived of which the poet spoke, when he
"Saw the heavens filled with commerce,
Argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight,
Dropping down with costly bales;"
and they were awaiting, with evil intent, the passing of the Aerial
Mail, which they knew to be carrying vast treasures of gold and other
precious things from India to Cairo and Europe.
The three Europeans who had collected and organised these robber chiefs,
by appealing to their hereditary instincts, were none other than our
friends, Rittmeister von Spitzer, and his companions Carl and Max, the
German irreconcilables, whom we left in the dark shadows of the
Schwarzwald preparing for their adventure.
Already they had made a name greater than Muller of the _Emden_, but
they had made themselves outlaws of the nations of the world, and though
for a little while success and fame might attend them, yet they knew
that sooner or later the agreed price of their adventure would be death.
"What news of the British air-liner, Max?" called von Spitzer, as his
subordinate descended by a rope ladder from one of the smaller trees,
where an observation post had been fixed, and an aerial mounted, for the
purposes of wireless telegraphy and telephony.
"She left Delhi at mid-day yesterday, sir," replied the operator,
unclamping the receivers which till now had been fixed over his ears.
"Then she's running to scheduled time?"
"Yes, sir."
"Was it the official departure message that you tapped?"
"It must have been, Rittmeister, for it announced that a distinguished
passenger had joined her at the last moment."
"Indeed! What was his name? Did you discover it?" asked the
flight-commander, who, to maintain his influence over the wild sons of
the desert, was wearing the loose, flowing robes of an Arab sheik,
richly emblazoned and adorned.
"His name was the Maharajah of Bangalore," replied Max, the erstwhile
Gotha pilot.
"What! the miscreant! He was the man who raised thirty thousand Indian
troops for the Mesopotamian campaign, and made it possible for the
British to advance on Baghdad after their disaster at Kut."
"That accounts for it. He is to be decorated at St. James's Palace for
some eminent services he has rendered to the British Government."
"We're in luck's way, Max. I may spare his life, as I do not seek to
take any man's life who does not oppose me. But it's a thousand to one
he's carrying his jewels and his household gods with him; it is the
custom of these eastern potentates. I will strip him as the locust
strips the vine. I will give his jewels to these brave Arabs; it will
confirm my hold upon them. We may need their help upon another
occasion. But, this is by the way, was there anything from the
professor?"
"Only this, Rittmeister; I have waited since dawn for it," and the
operator handed to Spitzer a cryptic message of seven letters, which, to
the receiver at least was quite unintelligible. Max had pencilled it
down as follows:--"X--G--P--C--V--S--M," for it had come through the
ether by wireless telegraphy and not by wireless telephone, like the
first message. The reason was obvious. One message was for public
intelligence and for use in the newspapers, and the other was for more
secret and sinister purposes. The cryptogram had come from the
professor, who, with his mechanic, had been left behind in the
Schwarzwald to collect information for the brigands, and to obtain
further supplies of uranis for the _Scorpion_.
The Rittmeister eagerly grasped the little strip of paper on which the
message was written, and retired to the small hangar where the
_Scorpion_ was pegged down and stowed away, remarking:--
"This is evidently urgent; I must get the cipher-key and decode it at
once. Meantime, I want you to rehearse the men in the parts they are to
play, and give Carl a hand with the vibration drum. The great liner is
almost due. You may tell the sheik that in addition to the large cargo
of gold which the airship carries, an Indian Prince with jewels worth a
king's ransom is on board."
"Your orders shall be carried out, Rittmeister," replied Max, who was
glad to be relieved of his monotonous task of listening hour after hour
for coded messages, and looked forward with some pleasure to the coming
adventure.
Shortly afterwards, Max, having delivered his message to the Arabian
chief, was standing beside Carl under the shadow of a cluster of trees
on the very margin of the pool. That wonderful instrument, the
vibrative drum, which is fashioned somewhat on the principle of the
human ear, but with a large horn-shaped receptacle for receiving the
very minutest sound waves, and focussing them on to a very sensitive
drum, was engaging their attention.
Every now and then, when they fancied they heard a sound that broke the
stillness of the desert, they would listen acutely, turning the horn
this way and that way to discover whence came the sound.
"They are due about mid-day, the chief says," remarked Carl, after a
brief pause in their conversation. "What time do you make it now?"
"A quarter of an hour yet," responded Max, consulting his chronometer,
and making a rapid calculation to allow for the difference in longitude,
for he still carried Central European time.
"And they're sure to follow the 30th parallel?"
"Yes, it's their shortest route," replied the wireless expert.
"Then they should pass within three or four miles from here," observed
Carl.
"Yes, unless they've drifted a little out of their course."
"But we should hear them on the vibrator even if they were fifty miles
away in a silent land like this."
"Undoubtedly."
"Listen! Can you hear anything?" exclaimed Max in a slightly nervous
tone, after a brief silence.
"No, I don't think so, but those fellows over there must be quiet;
they're getting excited about the promised loot."
"Go and tell them, Carl; you speak the best Arabic."
The German left the drum for a moment and after expostulating for a
while with the sheik, he gained his point and the word was passed along
for silence.
The Arabs were greatly mystified by this strange instrument, as well as
by those aerial wires affixed to the trees, and most of all by that
strange, weird machine, hidden away behind the sand-proof curtains of
the little camouflaged hangar, like the sacred ark in the holy of
holies.
With wondering eyes they had on occasion watched the _Scorpion_ mount to
the heavens with marvellous ease and descend with like facility--bearing
its human burden aloft to the very skies and bringing them safely to
earth again.
These strange gods which the infidels had brought with them to their
desert home were greatly feared even by these brave, proud men, and it
was only the largesse and the promise of still better things to come,
from the great white chief, which prevented these sons of the desert
from leaving this dreaded spot.
The scout pilot, having obtained his wish, now returned to the
instrument, for his companion was already beckoning to him. Evidently
the approach of the airship had been indicated by the sensitive drum,
but, ere Carl reached the margin of the pool, he noticed the Rittmeister
emerge from the hangar where he had been decoding the message, and wave
for him to approach.
"What is it, Rittmeister?" he called.
"The message. Come here a moment!"
Max, who thought that a faint sound he had just heard from the
instrument might portend the distant approach of the liner, left the
drum, for he knew there would be plenty of time, and joined the other
two by the hangar on the other side of the pool, for he also was curious
about the cryptic message, which he had taken earlier in the day.
"Was it from the professor?" he asked in his first breath.
"Yes, he is in for a bad time, I fear," replied the Rittmeister. "He
will not be able to communicate again for some time."
"What is the matter?" asked the others simultaneously.
"Why, Keane and Sharpe are on his track again. You know the rascals;
they were secret service pilots and spies during the war, and now they
are scout pilots in the British aerial police. They're the left-hand
and the right hand of that confounded Tempest, the little tin god at
Scotland Yard, and the brains of the aerial police."
"Himmel! I hope he can outwit them," exclaimed Carl. "They're keen
birds, both of them, and they have some exploits to their credit."
"If he can't, then the length of our existence is the capacity of those
remaining eight cylinders of uranis," ventured Max.
"And the length of the rope round our necks as well," murmured his
companion.
They all laughed at this, but Spitzer looked keenly for an instant into
the eyes of the two pilots, as though he would search their innermost
souls, and make sure that they would be game to the end. But they
evidently read his thoughts also, for Max announced:--
"It's all right, Rittmeister; we're not going back upon our word. The
die is cast!" and Carl in a brave attempt at another sally, added:--
"The cast is--die!" at which they all laughed again, as the old sea
pirates laughed before they blew up their ship, when they saw that the
game was up.
The next instant their thoughts were diverted to another subject. It
was already mid-day, for the sun by his altitude announced it. As they
approached the drum, they could now distinctly hear the hum of mighty
engines though still forty miles away, recorded in that delicate
instrument, and one thought, uttered or unexpressed, came instinctively
to each mind:--
"Aircraft approaching!"
*CHAPTER IX*
*THE PHANTOM BIRD*
"Airship or aeroplane?" asked von Spitzer, a moment later, as Carl
closely watched the delicate recorder, which, as the vibration caused by
the sound waves increased, indicated not only the type of craft, but the
type of engine by which it was driven, and also whether the engine was
running with or without defects. So wonderful are the secrets which man
has already wrested from nature.
"Airship, decidedly!" replied Carl, after a second's pause.
"Full-powered too; there are four or five Sunbeam-Maori engines, and all
running smoothly."
"Her position?" demanded the Rittmeister next.
"Forty-four miles due east," came the answer.
"Then it must be the aerial mail from India; she is just about due."
"Is she steering due west?" the chief asked.
"About two degrees south, that's all," replied Carl. "She's evidently
getting a little drift from the upper currents."
"Good!" remarked the chief airman. "Then if she continues steering
steady, she should pass within a couple of miles of us in another twenty
or twenty-five minutes. Come along, Carl, it is time for us to get
away. You will remain on the ground, Max. You have a difficult job. As
soon as we get away, see that the tents are struck, and all men and
horses placed under cover of the trees."
"Yes, sir."
"And now sound the alarm signal, and help us to get out the _Scorpion_;
it is going to bite to-day," ordered the Rittmeister as he strode away,
exclaiming,
"Who wouldn't be a king of the desert? For one day at least it will be,
'_Deutschland, Deutschland ueber alles_!'"
The alarm being sounded, all the occupants of the little camp went to
quarters, just as they had been rehearsed during the last few days. The
camouflaged fabric was stripped from the little hangar, and the
_Scorpion_ was set free to bite once more. She was released from the
ropes which held her down and turned head to wind. The steel folding
wings were snapped back into their sockets and made secure.
"Are you ready, Carl?" asked the chief, as he completed his rapid survey
of the machine, during which neither the propellers, planes, tail-fin
nor rudder escaped his scrutiny.
"Aye, ready, sir!" came the reply from the junior, who was now seated in
the armour-plated conning-tower, testing the controls and examining his
machine guns.
Without a moment's delay the chief clambered up through the little
trapdoor and joined his companion. Then he paused for a moment whilst
he swept the eastern horizon with his powerful binoculars.
"I cannot see her yet, Carl," he said. Then turning to Max, who stood
by the starboard engine, he shouted, "Just try to pick up her position
again from the drum. She may have changed her course a trifle."
The Gotha pilot dashed off on his errand, and after carefully listening
for a moment, he returned and said, "East-south-east, about four degrees
east."
"Good, she'll pass about five miles south of us then; but she's not
visible yet," replied Spitzer.
"She's getting a good deal of drift, I fancy," returned Max.
"Anyhow, we'll get up into the blue and wait for her," said the airman,
and waving his hand for the signal to stand clear, he pressed the
self-starting knob, and instantaneously both engines sprang into life,
and the whirring propellers started up such a dust storm from the loose
sand of the desert that the Arabs were startled, and rushed to secure
their frightened steeds.
Within ten seconds the rev.-counter indicated two thousand five hundred,
and, sufficient power for flying speed being thus obtained, Max deftly
removed the chocks from the wheels, and this new type of desert steed
dashed off across the sands, and leapt into the air, amid the cheers of
the astonished Bedouins.
"Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful!" cried the Arab chief, as he
raised his hands imploringly towards heaven. "It is the bird of
destiny, my children, the phantom of the desert!" and Max could scarcely
restrain a smile as he beheld the momentary fear which had seized these
strong, fierce men.
The next moment, however, they were all busy striking the tents and
bringing horses, equipment, and all the camp effects under the shadow of
the trees.
Meanwhile the _Scorpion_, appearing exactly like a huge grey phantom
bird, soared away in a north-westerly direction, lest it should be
observed by the occupants of the approaching liner.
And in a few minutes, rising rapidly by steep spirals, and an almost
vertical climb, it had disappeared from sight. Soon it soared over the
camp again at ten thousand feet, and appeared but a speck in the
cloudless blue, like the faintest suspicion of a tiny cirrus cloud.
Shortly afterwards a cry from one of the natives directed the attention
of all present towards another tiny streak in the opposite direction.
His sharp, piercing eyes had been the first to discern the approaching
airship.
"Allah, the Compassionate!" again began the sheik, and Max, fearing that
this strange visitant might affect their nerves, called out aloud in the
best Arabic he could muster:--
"Allah be praised! This stranger carries gold and rare jewels across
the desert. He must pay tribute to the sons of Jebel and Shomer!"
This appeal to their cupidity instantly changed the demeanour of these
fanatics. Their fear departed. Even when, later, they heard the roar of
the powerful engines which propelled the airship, their one thought was
of plunder.
"The treasures of twenty Damascus' caravans are in that great airship,"
cried Max, fulfilling with considerable skill the part which Spitzer had
allotted to him.
The Bedouins, whose feelings were now raised to the highest pitch of
excitement, began to fear lest, after all, so rich a prize might be
lost, and they eagerly searched the skies for the phantom airman, as
they called the Rittmeister, and shouted:--
"Where is the phantom bird? Where is the great white sheik?" and they
would have dashed out into the desert on their fiery steeds, for they
were already mounted, but the German restrained them, saying:--
"There is no need to hunt the quarry. The great white sheik will bring
down the airship on this very spot. Be ready, when I give the signal,
to surround it."
Another anxious moment passed, and the airship, travelling rapidly at
some three thousand feet above the ground, would have passed them by
some few miles to the south, but at that instant, the Indian judge
caught sight of the picturesque oasis with its cluster of palms far down
below, and said to his soldier companion:--
"Look, Colonel Wilson! Just look at that beauty spot after two hundred
miles of yellow desert."
"Ah, wonderful!" exclaimed the delighted soldier. "It is a little
garden planted by Nature in the solitary wastes."
"How picturesque! I should like to land there," returned the other.
"Let us ask the captain at least to change his course slightly, so that
we may pass over it and photograph it as a souvenir of our pleasant
journey," said the officer.
At that moment the captain, passing down the gangway, overheard the
remark, and being eager to oblige his distinguished passengers, he
telephoned his orders to the navigating officer, who slightly altered
the ship's course, so as to pass almost directly over the oasis.
It was while they were engaged in delightful contemplation of this
emerald isle embedded in the gold of the desert, that another object
attracted the attention of the judge. Chancing to glance upwards, he
caught sight of a silvery speck six thousand feet above them, and a
little way on their beam.
"See, a tiny cloudlet in the sky; the first I have ever seen in crossing
these deserts."
"A cloud, where?" asked his companion.
"There, right up in the blue vault of heaven," said the judge, pointing
out the speck which now seemed to have grown larger.
"Why, it is a bird; some great vulture of the desert. It seems to be
diving right down upon us! These vultures, I hear, have often attacked
the airships in the desert. It evidently takes us for some new kind of
prey."
"A bird!" cried the captain, who had now joined the speakers. "Let me
see it?"
"There it is!" cried the two men simultaneously, pointing out the grey,
swift phantom.
The captain saw the bird-like object, and one glance sufficed.
"It is an aeroplane," he said, and there was just a touch of uneasiness
in his voice.
"An aeroplane?" echoed the others, and an instant later, viewing it
through his glasses, the colonel added:--
"Why, so it is; but I say, Captain, what a peculiar type of aeroplane!
It is one of the patrols, I expect, come to meet us."
"Your glasses, if you please, for one moment," asked the captain, and he
almost snatched them from the hands of the officer.
The next instant a violent expletive burst from the captain's lips.
Leaving his companions, he dashed down the corridor to the wireless
operator's room. The operator was already engaged in conversation with
the aerial visitor by means of the wireless telephone, and the captain
took in the situation at a glance.
"What does he want? Who is he?" blurted out the skipper.
*CHAPTER X*
*THE BRIGAND OF THE EASTERN SKIES*
"Someone has signalled us to stop, Captain!" said the wireless operator.
"Who is it?" demanded the irate skipper.
"He will not declare himself, sir!"
"Hand me that receiver, Robson!" and the commander, clamping the
ear-piece of the wireless telephone to his ear, asked of the intruder,
"Who are you that thus dares to order me to stop on a lawful voyage?"
"It is I, Sultan von Selim, Air-King of the Hamadian Desert, who orders
you to stop!" came the reply from the aerial raider, who now rode just a
little way above the large airship, and on the starboard side.
"Then I refuse!" thundered the skipper.
"You will do so at your peril," came the quiet, cool reply, which rather
disconcerted the captain.
"I will call up the patrols, you brigand!" continued the commander of
the liner.
"One word to the patrols and I will blow your wireless to pieces. I
have two guns already trained on it," replied the air-king.
"I dare you to do it!" replied the brave skipper. Then, turning to the
operator, he said, "Send the S.O.S. with the latitude and longitude to
the patrols. Smartly there, Robson."
"Yes, sir."
"This is that raider we heard of at Delhi, but he can't touch us."
The raider, however, had caught the sentence, or part of it, and he
understood the order. The next instant a burst of fire from a machine
gun, trained with wonderful accuracy, blew the main part of the wireless
apparatus to pieces, and rendered it perfectly useless for either
receiving or transmitting. How the captain and the operator escaped
injury or death will for ever remain a mystery.
Seizing a megaphone, the former dashed out of the cabin, down the keel
corridor and the narrow slip-way, to the central touring gondola on the
starboard side, and, shaking his fist at the raider, who sailed calmly
alongside about a hundred feet away, shouted through the instrument:
"You brigand! You shall hang for this!"
A mocking laugh, drowned by the roar of the engines, which still
continued full speed ahead, was the only reply. Evidently this mad
airman was enjoying the fun immensely. At any rate he appeared very
careless of the other's threats.
"I mean it, you felon!" roared the skipper.
"Are you going to heave to?" came the the reply through the raider's
megaphone.
"No, certainly not!"
"Then you must take the consequence!" came the mocking taunt, and the
next instant, "Rep-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!" came another burst from that deadly
machine-gun, which seemed so effective every time it spoke.
This time the starboard engine, a 250-H.P. motor, conked out entirely,
and, for a moment, there was danger of fire in the gondola, owing to the
petrol-feed being smashed in the general break-up.
This made the captain think furiously. He now recognised, for the first
time, that he was absolutely at the mercy of this strange highwayman of
the air. Evidently he was a determined character, a master criminal,
and the skipper looked round for some means of defence.
There was certainly an old machine-gun aboard the airship, but it had
never been used and was not even mounted, for it was believed that a
peaceful trader would never need it. The police patrols constituted the
real defence of the trade routes, and even with them a few smugglers
were the chief offenders.
The captain's eyes were fixed for the next few seconds on the wonderful
machine which sailed along so easily and so quietly. Once, he had
noticed, when the raider made a circuit of the great liner, that the
machine had shot ahead at twice or thrice the speed of the _Empress_.
The armoured conning-tower, over the top of which the heads of the pilot
and his companion could just be seen, gave the skipper an impression of
strength, against which he knew that even if he could have replied with
a machine gun, the bullets would have pattered harmlessly against the
sides, and fallen away like rain-drops.
He was in a quandary, this brave air-skipper. He had missed his chance
of calling up the patrols. Yet, how could he, a British captain,
surrender to some foreign marauder, or perhaps even to a British
renegade; for he knew not as yet who this bold fellow was. Then he
thought of his passengers, those distinguished guests committed to his
charge, and last of all of the valuable lading: that consignment of gold
for the vaults of the Bank of England.
"By heaven, it's the gold they're after!" he exclaimed. "I never
thought of it before. They've had the news ahead of us and they've
waited for the airship in this out-of-the-world spot. Confound them,
but they shan't get it if I can help it!" and the captain nerved himself
to still further resistance, though he felt it was hopeless, unless some
outlying patrol should come up quickly.
The raider seemed to have read his thoughts, for he sailed close up
again, and shouted through his megaphone, "For the last time, Captain,
will you heave to?"
"No--o!" the courageous man replied, though this time his voice wavered
a bit, for he wondered what devilry the stranger would attempt next.
He had not long to wait, for the pirate suddenly banked his machine,
turned swiftly outwards, and circling round till he came up level with
the great twin-engine in the rear gondola, which drove the giant
propeller near the rudder, he opened once more a terrific burst of fire
which instantly put both engines out of action.
This almost brought the huge liner to a stop. At any rate, she now made
more leeway than headway, for the only remaining engines which could now
be used were those in the foremost gondola and port centre cabin.
"Stop!" signalled the captain to the remaining engineers in charge of
those engines.
And the next instant the huge, looming mass, with her engines silent,
lay there helpless, levering away to windward, shorn of her pride, and
with the wreckage hanging loose from her rear and central gondolas.
Another surprise that now awaited the crew and passengers of the
air-liner was to see the phantom raider careering wildly around the
beaten giant at enormous speed, in almost perfect silence, though his
two propellers raced wildly as he dipped, spun and rolled to celebrate
his victory, and to show off his amazing powers to the victims.
"Good heavens!" ejaculated the captain as he watched all this. "It was
only too true, then, what we heard at Delhi."
"You mean about the silent engines and the speed of three hundred miles
an hour," added the navigating officer, who now stood by the skipper.
"Yes. It's some amazing conspiracy. I cannot help admiring the
rascals, though I should like to hang the pair of them."
"Hullo! here he comes again. I wonder what he wants this time," and the
next instant the raider throttled down, and came close up to the
gondola, shouting as he did so in perfectly good English:--
"Start that port engine, please, and bring her to earth by that cluster
of palm-trees over there."
"What more do you want with us?" replied the captain.
"I must see your passports, and examine your cargo for contraband."
"Eh, what's that?" exclaimed the amazed commander. "What does he want
to examine our passports for?"
"We haven't any," remarked the navigating officer.
"And why the deuce is he to search for contraband, I should like to
know?" groaned the skipper.
"Did you hear what I said?" called the raider, who now appeared to be
getting angry at the delay.
"Yes," growled the other.
"Then bring her down at once, and let out that mooring cable!"
And as there was no apparent help for it, and not a single patrol had
yet hove in sight, the captain of the liner reluctantly complied,
wasting as much time as he dared in the operation.
*CHAPTER XI*
*THE AIR-KING'S TRIBUTE*
Far down below, the Arab sheik and his party, ambushed amid the waving
palms of the oasis, had watched with keen and eager eyes this thrilling
encounter in the heavens between the phantom-bird and the great
leviathan. To them it seemed impossible that the aeroplane, sometimes
diminished by distance to a tiny speck, could overcome the mighty
airship.
As the fight continued, and they heard the rat-tat-tat of the
machine-gun, sometimes their doubts and fears overcame them, and many
were the cries that went up to Allah the Compassionate, the Faithful,
etc. But when they saw that at last the great white sheik had won and
the disabled liner was slowly coming lower and lower, their pent-up
feelings gave place to wild excitement, and shouts of,
"Allah be praised! The bird of destiny has won! The great white chief
has triumphed!" while others, more practical, and also more piratical,
exclaimed: "Allah is sending down the treasures of heavens into the lap
of the faithful. Praise be to Allah and to Mohammed his Prophet!"
It was with some difficulty that Max restrained these wild men from
dashing out in their frenzy to capture and loot the huge, lowering mass
that now loomed but a little way above them. He began to fear that they
would not wait for the pre-arranged signal, and he urged the Arab sheik
to restrain them, and to repeat the orders that the occupants of the
airship must not be touched.
Nearer and nearer came the huge mass, steering badly and veering round
in attempting to gain the lee-side of the trees, lest she should be
totally wrecked in the mooring. Two hundred feet of cable suddenly
dropped from her bow, and, when it touched the ground, Max gave the
signal, and with a wild shout these fierce Bedouin horsemen suddenly
broke from cover, and galloped into the open.
"Ye saints!" gasped the Indian judge, when he beheld this wild
tournament of galloping horsemen, brandishing their rifles and long
spears. "Are we to be eaten alive?" Less than an hour ago he had
expressed a pious wish to visit this peaceful garden in the desert; now,
it was too near to be pleasant.
"All hands to the cable!" shouted Max in Arabic, and very quickly both
horses and men were struggling with the stout hawser.
"This way," shouted the Gotha pilot. "Take it round and round these
three trees; they should stand the strain unless the wind gets
stronger," and selecting a small group of trees on the leeward side of
the grove, he very quickly had the cable made fast in such a way that
the leviathan of seven hundred feet in length swung easily head to wind,
like a ship riding at anchor and swinging with the tide.
Then the tribesmen, kept well in hand, surrounded the prize, keeping
some thirty paces distant, for they had not yet quite overcome their
fears. Never before had such a thing been seen resting on the yellow
sands of the Hamadian Desert.
As the gondolas of the _Empress of India_ came to rest quietly on the
ground, the _Scorpion_ descended in a rapid spiral, touched the sands
lightly and taxied up to the fringe of trees.
Then, to the utter amazement of the occupants of the dirigible, some of
whom were already descending from the gondolas, a couple of men, wearing
the loose flowing robe of the desert, including that distinctive mark of
the Mohammedan world, the fez, leapt from the machine and approached the
airship.
"Snakes alive!" ejaculated the colonel; "but what have we here?" his
eyes fixed upon the two men.
"Some person of note, evidently," remarked his friend the judge, as he
saw the foremost of these individuals mount a richly caparisoned horse
which was held in readiness for him, and approach in a dignified and
almost royal manner.
"This king of the desert is evidently some European renegade who is
challenging the right of other nations to cross his domain without his
permission," said the soldier.
"He is some daring pilot, at any rate," replied the justiciary.
"I wonder now what he intends to do with us," observed the other.
"Why, he intends to plunder us, of course," replied his companion.
"What else could be his motive?"
The captives were not long to be left in doubt as to the proceedings of
this daring freebooter. Raising the megaphone which he had used in the
air so effectively, he shouted in perfectly good English:--
"Abandon airship!"
And to make this order immediately effective, the desert king ordered
Max to see that every member of the great liner, passengers and crew,
were immediately assembled before him. The navigating officer and the
captain were the last to leave the vessel; they did so unwillingly, and
not without a measure of compulsion at the point of a revolver. The
skipper's looks as he fixed them upon this desert freebooter astride the
fiery steed, conveyed to the brigand much more than mere words could
have expressed.
Fixing him with his keen, malicious eyes, the pirate said: "Are you the
captain of this vessel?"
"I am," replied the skipper in surly tones.
"Show me your bill of lading."
"Bill of lading?" echoed the captive. "You must hunt for it if you want
it."
The self-styled king of the desert frowned. He knew that he was up
against an English skipper, and that he must adopt other measures to
gain his end. Without lifting his gaze from the commander of the
air-liner, or flinching a muscle, he replied firmly, "One word from me,
Captain, and your life would be forfeit. You would swing from that tree
by one of your own cables."
"I know that, brigand," replied the prisoner. "Get a cable and carry
out your threat; the rope that will hang you is not so very far away,
either."
"Very well," exclaimed the German. "Then, I need only give the order to
these, my faithful subjects, and the whole of your valuable cargo will
be strewn on the sands, and your airship will be alight. I do not
propose to adopt those measures unless you compel me. I will give you
five minutes to decide." As the pirate uttered these words in a cool,
nonchalant manner, he glanced at the European emblem on his wrist, a
gold, gem-studded wristlet watch with luminous dial.
"I deny your right to interfere with a peaceful trader," blurted out the
captain, when he saw the full force of the two alternatives which had
been offered to him. He was wondering, moreover, how much the brigand
knew about the presence of the specie on the vessel.
"You deny my right, do you?" returned the other.
"Yes. Who are you?"
"I am Sultan von Selim, Air-King of the Hamadian Desert. I told you
that once before when I first challenged you in the air."
"Who made you king?" snorted the captain.
There was silence for the space of ten seconds, during which time the
brigand consulted his watch again, then replied:--
"The Allies made me king, particularly you _verdammt_ English when you
drove me from my Fatherland with those impossible peace terms. King I
am, and king I will remain, of all the aerial regions where I choose to
abide, until there comes a better man who can beat me in the air. And
you, Captain, of all men, must know from what you have already seen that
my powers in that realm are considerable."
The captain, having cooled somewhat after this outburst, had to admit to
this German irreconcilable that there was certainly some truth in his
statement about being king of the air. Certain things were beginning to
dawn upon this English captain, and he was now wondering how far it
would be wise to humour the brigand. He added, however, to his
admission, the following words, "You are only king by might!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed the outlaw, "but that also is some admission. My
position is precisely that of the British in India or Egypt. Withdraw
your soldiers from these two countries and what becomes of your
government there? So am I King of the Hamadian Desert till a stronger
man comes. When that time comes one of us must die. There is no room for
two kings, even in the desert. Till then I am supreme. But come,
captain, four minutes have passed already. Your bill of lading, quickly
now, for we are but wasting time, and these my subjects"--and here the
brigand waved his hand towards the restive Arabs--"or rather I should
say my customs' officials, are waiting to examine your cargo, and to
levy the king's tribute."
The captain looked around first upon his own followers and then upon the
impatient Bedouins--the vultures around the carcase.
"I could have brought your ship down in flames, but I preferred a milder
method," continued the outlaw, as he watched the seconds of the last
minute being ticked away on his jewelled watch.
"But helium will not burn!" returned the captain smartly. "That was
beyond your powers."
A mocking, sardonic laugh came from the robber chief as the Englishman
uttered these words.
"Would you like to see it burn?" he almost hissed.
The captain faltered in his reply; he was not quite so decisive as he
had been. Evidently there was some sense of humour, if not much, about
this irreconcilable German.
"Here, Carl!" cried the bandit. "Detach one of those nineteen
ballonettes from the airship."