Captain Espejo thought himself to be very hardly used. He had expected
to be by this time Jefe of Guayana. That was the office promised him by
General Carabano in reward for his services in the "liberation" of
Venezuela. The General had not kept his promise. That was a clear
breach of faith. Nay more, so far was he from acting up to his
self-assumed title of Liberator, that he himself needed liberating. That
was most annoying. Really, he ought to have been more careful. His
capture was a malign stroke of Fate, but since Fate was inaccessible,
Captain Espejo vented his annoyance and disappointment on his
subordinates, which did not improve matters.
Success is the best credential of a revolutionist, and the General's
want of success bid fair to ruin his cause. There was no moral
enthusiasm to buoy up the spirits of his men. Quite the contrary,
indeed: the triumph of General Carabano would be the triumph of
corruption. The bonds linking them to him were of the slightest, and
when with his disappearance their prospects of sharing the spoils of
victory vanished into thin air, they began to ask themselves whether it
was not time to disband. Perhaps in a few years another Liberator might
arise who would not so easily be snuffed out. That was how the
Venezuelans looked at the situation. The Indians of the force had
already made up their minds that General Carabano was a bladder, and
betaken themselves to their own place.
Captain Espejo was worried as well as annoyed. Food was running short;
the exchequer was empty; the men had not received the pay promised them;
and the Captain was not at all happy at the prospect of having to deal
with a mutiny. He had declared, to be sure, with great vehemence, that
the audacious kidnappers of the Liberator had not gone down-stream; he
had no doubt that the detestable machine which had proved such a
troublesome instrument in the hand of Fate had broken down, and the
Englishman was hiding somewhere in the neighbourhood. But machines could
be repaired, and when the repairs were made the Englishman would
probably make another attempt to carry off his captive. If he could be
intercepted all might yet be well. Captain Espejo used this argument to
some effect with his men, and they had agreed to wait a week, and to
keep a careful watch on the river meanwhile. The locomotive was kept
constantly under steam, so that, immediately the discovery of the
fugitives was signalled, the train might start for the junction. It
could surely outstrip an overladen hydroplane, and then the Englishman
might think himself lucky if he escaped a bullet through the head. It
would give the Captain great pleasure to accompany the Liberator-General
to his hacienda of Las Piedras, and witness the shooting of that
impertinent engineer who had dared to flout him.
The Captain was ruminating thus when there fell upon his ear the report
of two rifles, fired in quick succession. Springing up from the chair
which the General had lately filled, he ran into the camp, summoned a
hundred men from their _dolce far niente_, and with much excitement
ordered them to board the three wagons coupled to the engine.
"They are discovered!" he cried. "We have them!"
He climbed into the cab beside the engine-driver.
"A thousand pesos," he shouted, "if you reach the junction before the
Englishman!"
The driver opened the throttle, the wheels spun round, and when they
held the rails the train started with a great rumbling and clanking
towards the junction.
----
The hydroplane had floated only a few yards down the stream when there
was a shout from the bank opposite. Looking round, Will saw, at the
embouchure of the creek, a man wearing General Carabano's green feather
in his sombrero. He held a rifle. The enemy had clearly taken the
precaution to post a look-out, so that while their boat was searching
the creek, the hydroplane should not pass undiscovered.
One glance, then Will started the engine, and the hydroplane shot
forward.
"Not too fast," said Ruggles anxiously.
"All right. Ten miles an hour till we see how she goes. Keep your eyes
open, Azito."
The Indian grunted. He stood as far forward as was convenient, holding
his pole, and fixing his eyes on the course. He meant to earn the
little yacht that lay snugly beached in the creek behind.
The man on the bank shouted again. In less than two minutes the
hydroplane was level with him. He knelt on one knee, lifted his rifle,
and fired.
"Through the wind-screen," said Will, not turning his head. "No harm
done. I'll make it fifteen."
The hydroplane swept round the first "twist" in the stream, and passed
from the sight of the look-out. Another shot rang out, and
half-a-minute later two more.
"A waste of ammunition," said Will, smiling.
"Stop, senor!" cried Machado in terror, from his place in the bottom.
"We shall all be killed. His Excellency will be shot."
"Hold your tongue," growled Ruggles, "or we'll set you and his
Excellency up as targets."
From some spot down-stream came the crack of another rifle, and then a
second. Half-a-minute later there seemed to be an echo from a point
still lower, and Azito declared that he heard two more shots even
farther away.
"They're signals," said Ruggles. "Confound 'em, why are they so
careful?"
"I daren't go any faster yet," said Will. "The stream's too narrow. We
shall get to the tributary directly, and then I'll make her go."
A few minutes brought them to the broader stream. Then Will opened the
throttle further, increasing the speed to twenty miles an hour. More
shots sounded faintly in several directions. Ruggles turned his head
and glanced up-stream.
"There's a canoe after us," he cried. "Indians paddling like mad, and
half-a-dozen fellows with rifles."
"They can't hurt us," said Will, and laughed as he heard the rattle of
an ineffective volley behind.
"It'll be a near thing, though, if they've got other canoes waiting for
us down-stream. Is she going all right?"
"Perfectly. Twenty-five now, and planes beautifully. They won't hit us
unless they've had practice with partridges, and if they get in the way
they'll come off no better than the jaguar I ran down."
The vessel was skimming along as lightly as a bird. Ruggles gripped the
side; he had no experience of this kind of navigation.
"The canoe's out of sight," he said, looking round. "We're level with
the hacienda now. Two shots again. They've put a chain of lookouts all
down the river."
"Thirty," replied Will, his eyes fixed on Azito, his hands firmly
gripping the steering-wheel.
"A canoe putting off from the bank, senor," cried Azito. "Four men in
her."
"Right bank?"
"Yes, senor."
"We'll go straight at her. Revolver ready, Ruggles?"
"For goodness' sake be careful!" gasped Ruggles. "She may capsize us."
"Thirty-five," said Will.
On flew the hydroplane.
"Are we near the canoe, Azito?" asked Will.
"She goes back, senor: better get out of the way."
"Very sensible. Duck, Ruggles: they may send a shot at us."
Next moment four bullets whizzed overhead.
"A thousand pesos if you stop!" cried the General, terrified alike by
the speed of the hydroplane and the risk of being shot by his own men.
"Not for a million," said Will. "Are we near the narrows, Azito?"
"Not yet, senor."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Ruggles, "they've sent the train after us. I can
see smoke through the trees."
"Forty," said Will.
He had now attained the maximum speed. He had seldom ventured to keep
it up for more than a quarter of an hour at a stretch, but he was grimly
determined to beat the train. No engine had yet run over the newly-laid
track at a greater speed than twenty-five miles an hour: surely the
driver would not risk a smash. But Captain Espejo was at the man's
elbow, continually urging him to go faster. The heavy wagons rattled on
behind, the men swaying this way and that, shouting, peering through the
trees to the left to catch a glimpse of the hydroplane.
The sun beat down fiercely. Hot though the air was, it blew cold upon
the occupants of the hydroplane as she whizzed along. Will and Ruggles
were bathed in perspiration. Jose was oiling the engine.
"How are we now?" asked Will.
"I can't see for the trees. Aren't we near the narrows?"
He was answered by a volley from the bank. He ducked instinctively.
Will did not budge; his whole mind was given to the hydroplane. Would
the engine stand the strain? He heard bullets slap into the
wind-screen, and trembled lest one should strike the engine or find its
way into the petrol tank.
"The train's almost level with us," said Ruggles. "Not more than a
hundred yards behind."
At this point the railway track emerged upon the river, coming to within
a quarter of a mile of it. Here the bank was clear of trees.
"How many trucks?" asked Will.
"Three, full of men. They're levelling rifles at us."
"Won't there be a smash when they come to the curve!"
"We're gaining a little, but they'll make up on us when we come to the
bend."
"We must go faster. I can't leave the wheel. Ruggles, go to the
exhaust valve and double the pressure."
"Good heavens! It won't stand it."
"It must! Hurry up, man."
Ruggles, as an expert mechanician, knew the risk involved. By adjusting
the valve admitting pressure from the exhaust to the petrol tank it
could show double the pressure on the tank gauge. By this means the
explosive mixture would be enriched and more power gained. But there
would be an immense risk of over-heating the cylinders.
"I don't think----" he began.
"Quick! quick, man!" said Will.
Hesitating no longer, Ruggles did what was required of him. The
hydroplane flew on. In half-a-minute it had gained a furlong on the
train. Fearing that their prey was escaping them, the men on the trucks
fired a volley, some resting their rifles on the sides, others even
venturing to mount, being held up on the jolting vehicles by their
comrades. More bullets struck the windscreen; Will did not notice that
Azito's right arm dropped by his side. The Indian did not utter a
sound.
With every second the hydroplane increased its lead. At last it came to
the bend, which made its course longer by over a mile than the straight
track of the railway. This was the critical part of the race. Will knew
that, if the train maintained its speed, he could not expect to reach
the farther end of the curve before his pursuers. It was impossible to
increase the pressure by an ounce. His only hope was that the train
would not have time to pull up, so that the men could steady themselves
for firing, before he shot past.
As he rounded the bend into the straight again, he saw that the train
was leading by about two hundred yards. It did not appear to be
slackening speed. And here he recognized with a throb of delight that
there was a point in his favour that had not occurred to him. For
nearly a mile the bank of the river was lined with a thin fringe of
trees. This explained the fact that the train had not pulled up. Even
if the men could alight in time, the trees must completely spoil their
chance of pouring in an effective volley. The hydroplane was skimming
along at such an enormous speed that they could no more have taken good
aim at it through the trees than if they had been park palings. In
half-a-minute the hydroplane was once more forging ahead. A scattered
volley flashed from the trucks; Will paid no heed to it; he did not even
notice that a bullet had flown up from the wind-screen and struck his
cheek. All that he knew was that the hydroplane was drawing away, and
that in another mile or so the train would arrive at a dangerous curve.
"They're putting on more steam," cried Ruggles, "and coaling like the
very dickens."
"Shall we do it? I can't keep this up for more than another minute."
"In another minute they'll come to the curve in the cutting," said
Ruggles, "and then nothing can save them if they don't slacken."
A few seconds later a loud grinding shriek came from the right.
"They've clapped on the brakes," said Will. "'Twas time. Reduce the
pressure, Ruggles, or the whole concern will burst up. There's no hurry
now."
[Illustration: THE RACE TO THE SWIFT]
Ruggles screwed back the valve. Will gradually closed the throttle
until the speed was reduced to twenty miles an hour. The bridge was in
sight. Just as they reached it there came a crash from the line. Will
reduced the speed still further, and looked round. The driver had put
on his brakes too late. Rounding the curve, the engine had left the
rails and the wagons were overturned.
"Not much harm done," said Ruggles. "Lucky she slowed down when she
did, or there'd have been a horrible mess."
"Thank goodness we've got through in time," said Will, mopping his
steaming brow. "We can take it easy now, and get to Bolivar before it's
dark."