Airship Part 4

"Haul up!" he shouted breathlessly.

"Heavens!" he added. "Can I do it? Can I hold on long enough?"

It was a question that required some answering. The strain on his muscles, coupled with the effect of the unexpected jerk, the numbing cold, and, lastly, his own position, as he hung practically head downwards, all told against him. Even in those moments of peril he found himself thinking he must present a ludicrous sight to the watchers in the airship in the dazzling glare of the searchlight.

"Stick it another half a minute, sir," shouted a voice. "I'll be with you in a brace of shakes."

Of what happened during the next thirty long drawn out seconds Kenyon had only a hazy recollection. He was conscious of someone bawling in his ear, "Let go, sir; I've got him all right."

Kenneth obeyed mechanically. In any case he was on the point of relaxing his grip through sheer inability on the part of his muscles to respond to his will. The sudden release of the man he had rescued resulted in Kenyon regaining a normal position, and dizzy and utterly exhausted he was hauled into safety.

Someone gave him brandy. The strong spirit revived him considerably.

"Where's the fellow?" he asked.

"Safe, sir," replied Jackson. "Shall I carry on?"

"Yes, please," said Kenneth, faintly, and with the clang of the telegraph indicator bells and the rhythmic purr of the motors borne to his ears he became unconscious.

Meanwhile Enrico Jaures, to all outward appearances a corpse, had been hauled on board. One of the crew, observing Kenneth's plight, had descended by means of another rope, and had deftly hitched the end round the Scorp's body, climbing back hand over hand as unconcernedly as if he had been walking upstairs in his cottage in far-off Aberdeen.

"Like handling frozen mutton," commented one of the crew as they attended to the rescued Jaures. "Fine specimen, ain't he? An' what's he doing with that there marline-spike, I should like to know. 'Tain't all jonnick, if you ask me."

CHAPTER X.

--UNDER EXAMINATION.

"I'm all right, I tell you. Hang it all, can't a fellow know when he's all right?"

Thus Kenyon rather resentfully resisted all efforts on the part of the men to keep him in his bunk. He came from an indomitable stock that never readily admits defeat, and on this occasion he steadfastly refused to recognise the fact that his physical strength had been well-nigh sapped.

Donning his leather coat, he made his way to the navigation-room, staggering slightly as he pa.s.sed along the narrow alley-way.

"Wireless message just received, sir," reported Jackson. "'From T.B.D. Zeebrugge to 'Golden Hind.' Am proceeding in search of you. Show position lights. Will tranship Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e and Mr. Bramsdean as soon as possible. Make necessary arrangements.' We're steering N. by W. W., but we haven't sighted the destroyer yet."

"Very good," concurred Kenyon. "Carry on."

He consulted the altimeter and the speed indicator. The former showed that the airship had descended to two thousand feet, and the speed was two thousand revolutions, or approximately thirty miles an hour. The "Golden Hind" had by this time retraced a good portion of her drift, and was now three or four miles from Ceuta.

Ten minutes later a masthead flashing lamp was seen blinking at a distance of about six miles. The light came from the destroyer Zeebrugge, which, pelting along at twenty-five knots, was on the lookout for the errant airship.

Kenneth Kenyon was now on his mettle. For the first time he was in command of a large airship about to make a descent. As officer of the watch he had already had opportunities of observing the handling of the huge vessel, but now he found himself confronted with the problem of bringing her close to the surface of the sea so as to enable the destroyer to manoeuvre sufficiently enough to establish direct communication.

"Hope I don't make a bog of it," he soliloquised. "I must admit I feel a bit rotten after that little jamboree just now. Still, I'll stick it."

Although he was not aware of the fact, Leading Hand Jackson was keeping a sharp eye on his superior officer, ready at the first sign to "take on" should Kenyon's physical strength fail him.

For the next ten minutes the greatest activity prevailed. Gongs were clanging, crisp orders were issued through various voice-tubes, gas was being withdrawn from various ballonets, the motors were constantly being either accelerated or r.e.t.a.r.ded according to the conditions demanded. The white flashing lamp signals were being exchanged with the T.B.D., which had now circled sixteen degrees to starboard and was steaming slowly dead in the eye of the wind.

In the floor of the bow compartment of the "Golden Hind" the large trap-hatch had been opened. Close by crouched men ready to lower away a wire rope, at the end of which a small electric bulb glowed to enable the destroyer's crew to locate the line in the dark. Throughout the manoeuvre neither the "Golden Hind" nor the Zeebrugge made use of their searchlights, since the dazzling rays might baffle the respective helmsmen and result in a collision.

Slowly and gracefully the airship dropped until her fuselage was thirty feet from the surface of the sea. She was now dead in the wake of the destroyer, and the task that confronted Kenyon was to bring her ahead sufficiently for the bows to overlap the Zeebrugge's stern. An error of judgment at that low height would result in the airship's bows fouling the destroyer's mast.

Foot by foot the "Golden Hind" gained upon the destroyer until a shout from the latter's deck announced that the wire rope had been made fast.

Instantly the airship's six motors were declutched. She was now moving merely under the towing action of the Zeebrugge, which was forging ahead at a bare four knots.

From the trap-hatch in the airship's bows a rope-ladder was lowered, its end being held by a couple of bluejackets on the T.B.D. Without loss of time Fosterd.y.k.e swarmed up the swaying ladder, and was followed by Bramsdean.

"Cast off, and thank you!" shouted the baronet.

"All gone," came an answering voice from the Zeebrugge, followed by a hearty "Best of luck to you!"

Released, the "Golden Hind" leapt a full five hundred feet into the air before the propellers began to revolve.

"Cheerio, Kenyon!" exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e, as he joined Kenneth in the navigation-room. "All's well that ends well, but you gave me a pretty bad turn. What happened?"

"Hardly know, sir," replied Kenyon. "Our wire rope didn't part. Possibly the shackle on the buoy gave. But we found a man hanging on the end of the wire."

"You did, eh?" exclaimed the baronet, sharply. "What sort of man?"

"You'll see him, sir," replied Kenneth. "He's laid out below."

"H'm!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fosterd.y.k.e, and relapsed into silence.

He was deep in thought for some moments, then turned to Kenyon again.

"We're making an official start in a few minutes' time," he announced. "We have to pa.s.s over the Rock and display three red and three white lights to the official observer on Signal Hill. When we see a similar signal made from the Rock that will be the actual starting time. Pa.s.s the word for Jackson to get the lamps in position."

At an alt.i.tude of three thousand feet, or fifteen hundred feet above the summit of the Rock of Gibraltar, the "Golden Hind" received her official send-off at 3.35 A.M., eighteen hours after the Hun-owned Z64.

Evidently there was not a minute to be wasted. The contest had developed not merely into a voyage round the world within the s.p.a.ce of twenty days, but a race in which the British compet.i.tor had to make good her formidable handicap of eighteen hours or approximately three thousand five hundred miles.

With the wind abeam on the port side the "Golden Hind" opened out to one hundred and forty miles an hour. During the earlier stages of the race Fosterd.y.k.e rather wisely decided to keep below the maximum speed, rather than overtax the motors by running "all out." Within a few minutes of receiving her official permit to depart the airship lost sight of the lights upon the Rock of Gibraltar. She was now steering E. by S.--a course that would take her over the northern part of Algeria and Tunis and within a few miles of Malta.

At 4 A.M. Kenyon, who had modestly refrained from giving any details of the part he had taken in the rescue of Enrico Jaures, and had concealed the fact that he had been temporarily out of action, was relieved by Peter Bramsdean.

As he turned to go to his cabin Kenneth saw that the baronet was standing in a corner of the navigation-room and studying a nautical almanac.

"Sleep well, Kenyon," exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e. "You've some arrears to make up."

"Rather, sir," agreed Kenyon. "But we've forgotten something."

"Eh, what?"

"That fellow we found hanging on to the wire rope, we didn't put him on board the destroyer."

"No," agreed Fosterd.y.k.e, grimly. "We didn't. I saw to that. Unless I'm much mistaken our unwanted supernumerary can and must give us certain information that will rather astonish us. I'll see him later on, by Jove!"

Kenyon nodded knowingly. Evidently Fosterd.y.k.e had learnt something. However, as far as he, Kenyon, was concerned, other things of a more pressing nature demanded his attention--food and sleep.

At eight o'clock Fosterd.y.k.e ordered his involuntary guest to be brought before him.

"There's something fishy about the breaking adrift business," he observed to Bramsdean as the two sat at a table in the after-cabin awaiting Enrico's appearance.

"Where's Jackson? We'll want him. No, don't disturb Kenyon; he had a pretty sticky time."

"More than you imagine, sir," added Peter, and proceeded to tell the baronet the part Kenneth had played in the aerial rescue of the imperilled Rock Scorpion.

"Kenyon didn't say a word about it," he added on the conclusion of the narrative. "He was as mute as an oyster over it all. Frampton and Collings told me. It was----"

A knock on the cabin door interrupted Bramsdean's explanation.

"Come in!" exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e.

In answer to the invitation entered Leading Hand Jackson, followed in single file by one of the crew, Enrico Jaures, and two other members of the "Golden Hind's" company.

The Scorp was still labouring under the effects of his narrow escape. He looked, to quote Bramsdean's words, "as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him."

Fosterd.y.k.e's handling of the situation was a bold one. Without any preliminaries, without even asking the fellow's name, he demanded sternly: "How much did Count Karl von Sinzig promise you for last night's work?"

Jaures gave an involuntary start, but almost immediately relapsed into his imperturbably pa.s.sive att.i.tude. Then with a slight shrug of his shoulders he replied: "Me no spik Englis."

"Try again," said Fosterd.y.k.e, contracting his bushy eyebrows and looking straight at the man. "All I can say is that if you don't speak English it's a case of won't, not can't."

"Me no spik Englis," reiterated Jaures.

Without speaking, Fosterd.y.k.e looked straight at the fellow for a full thirty seconds. During that period Enrico attempted three times to meet the searching gaze of his inquisitor.

"Now!" exclaimed the baronet at length.

Enrico Jaures maintained silence.

Fosterd.y.k.e slowly and deliberately unstrapped his wristlet watch and placed it on the table.

"I give you thirty seconds," he said in level tones. "Thirty seconds in which to make up your mind either to answer or refuse to answer my question. Might I remind you that we are now eight thousand feet above the sea, and it is a long drop. Jackson, will you please remove that hatch?"

"Of course the Old Man was only kiddin'," remarked Jackson when he related what had transpired to his companions after the affair was over; "but, bless me, even I thought he meant to do the dirty sweep in. He looked that stern, that it put the wind up the bloke straight away."

Absolutely disciplined, the Leading Hand obeyed orders promptly. Throwing back the aluminium cover in the centre of the cabin floor, he revealed to the gaze of the thoroughly terrified Jaures a rectangular opening six feet by four. Far below, glittering in the sunshine, was the blue Mediterranean.

"Five seconds more!" announced Fosterd.y.k.e, calmly.

Of the occupants of the after cabin Enrico Jaures now seemed to be the least interested in the proceedings. His furtive glances had given place to an expression of lofty detachment, as if he were utterly bored by the whole transaction. Bramsdean found himself deciding that either the fellow was an imbecile or else he was a past master in the art of dissimulation.

"Time!" declared Fosterd.y.k.e.

Enrico Jaures positively beamed.

"Me no spik Englis," he babbled.

Sir Reginald eyed the accused sternly, but even his piercing glance seemed of no avail. The Rock Scorp continued to smile inanely.

"Take him away," ordered Fosterd.y.k.e with asperity.

He waited till the door had closed upon the involuntary guest, and then gave a deprecatory shrug.

"The fellow's scored this time, Bramsdean," he remarked, "but I'll get to windward of him yet."

CHAPTER XI.

--"WITH INTENT"

"Where are we now?" enquired Kenyon on returning to the navigation-room to relieve his chum as officer of the watch.

It was now twelve o'clock. Bramsdean had just "shot the sun" and was reading off the degrees, minutes, and seconds from the arc of the s.e.xtant.

"Almost over Algiers, old thing," he replied, pointing to the glaring, sun-baked Algerian coast. "Hark!"

He held up his hand and inclined his head sideways. Above the ba.s.s hum of the aerial propellers came the distant report of a gun.

"Reminds a fellow of old times when the Archies got busy," remarked Kenyon.

"Our friends the French are evidently treating us to a salute to help us on our weary way," rejoined Peter. "Goodness only knows how we are to return it. We can't give gun for gun."

He focussed his gla.s.ses on the white buildings three thousand feet below. The whole of the water-front of Algiers was packed with figures with upturned faces--Frenchmen, Algerines, Arabs, and Nubians--all frantically waving to the huge airship as she sped eastwards.

In ten minutes the "Golden Hind" had left the capital of France's African possessions far astern. Unless anything untoward occurred, another four hours would bring her within sight of Malta.

"You might cast your eye over the signal log-book before you take on," remarked Bramsdean.

Kenyon did so. Evidently the wireless operator had been kept busily employed, for there were dozens of messages wishing the "Golden Hind" bon voyage. But amongst them were two of a different nature. One announced that an American airship "Eagle," under the command of Commodore Theodore Nye, had left Tampa Town bound for Colon, followed by a supplementary message that the "Eagle" had left the Panama Ca.n.a.l zone and was last sighted flying in a westerly direction. Making allowance for the difference in New York and Greenwich times, both the "Golden Hind" and her Yankee rival had started practically simultaneously from their respective points of departure for the actual race.