The Disentanglers Part 65

'I shall order my two best horses to be saddled after breakfast,' said Mr. Macrae. 'You will bait at Inchnadampf.'

'Here is my address; this will always find me,' said Logan, writing rapidly on a leaf of his note-book.

'You will wire all news of your negotiations with the pirates to me, by the new wireless machine, when Giambresi brings it, and his firm in town will telegraph it on to me, at the address I gave you, _in cypher_. To save time, we must use a book cypher, we can settle it in the house in ten minutes,' said Logan, now entirely in his element.

They chose _The Bonnie Brier Bush_, by Mr. Ian Maclaren--a work too popular to excite suspicion; and arranged the method of secret correspondence with great rapidity. Logan then rushed up to Merton's room, hastily communicated the scheme to him, and overcame his objections, nay, awoke in him, by his report of Mr. Macrae's words, the hopes of a lover. They came down to breakfast, and arranged that their baggage should be sent after them as soon as communications were restored.

Merton contrived to have a brief interview with Lady Bude. Her joyous spirit shone in her eyes.

'I do not know what Lord Fastcastle's plan is,' she said, 'but I wish you good fortune. You have won the _father's_ heart, and now I am about to be false to my s.e.x'--she whispered--'the daughter's is all but your own!

I can help you a little,' she added, and, after warmly clasping both her hands in his, Merton hurried to the front of the house, where the horses stood, and sprang into the saddle. No motors, no bicycles, no scientific vehicles to-day; the clean wind piped to him from the mountains; a good steed was between his thighs! Logan mounted, after entrusting Bouncer to Lady Bude, and they galloped eastwards.

V. The Adventure of the Flora Macdonald

'This is the point indicated, lat.i.tude so and so, longitude so and so,'

said Mr Macrae. 'But I do not see a sail or a funnel on the western horizon. Nothing since we left the Fleet behind us, far to the East. Yet it is the hour. It is strange!'

Mr. Macrae was addressing Bude. They stood together on the deck of the _Flora Macdonald_, the vast yacht of the millionaire. She was lying to on a sea as gla.s.sy and radiant, under a blazing August sun, as the Atlantic can show in her mildest moods. On the quarter-deck of the yacht were piled great iron boxes containing the millions in gold with which the millionaire had at last consented to ransom his daughter. He had been negotiating with her captors through the wireless machine, and, as Logan could not promise any certain release, Mr. Macrae had finally surrendered, while informing Logan of the circ.u.mstances and details of his rendezvous with the kidnappers. The ama.s.sing of the gold had shaken the exchanges of two worlds. Banks trembled, rates were enormous, but the precious metal had been acc.u.mulated. The pirates would not take Mr.

Macrae's cheque; bank notes they laughed at, the millions must be paid in gold. Now at last the gold was on the spot of ocean indicated by the kidnappers, but there was no sign of sail or ship, no promise of their coming. Men with telescopes in the rigging of the _Flora_ were on the outlook in vain. They could pick up one of the floating giants of our fleet, far off to the East, but North, West and South were empty wastes of water.

'Three o'clock has come and gone. I hope there has been no accident,'

said Mr. Macrae nervously. 'But where are those thieves?' He absently pressed his repeater, it tingled out the half-hour.

'It _is_ odd,' said Bude. 'Hullo, look there, what's _that_?'

_That_ was a slim spar, which suddenly shot from the plain of ocean, at a distance of a hundred yards. On its apex a small black hood twisted itself this way and that like a living thing; so tranquil was the hour that the spar with its dull hood was distinctly reflected in the mirror- like waters of the ocean.

'By gad, it is the periscope of a submarine!' said Bude.

There could not be a doubt of it. The invention of Napier of Merchistoun and of M. Jules Verne, now at last an actual engine of human warfare, had been employed by the kidnappers of the daughter of the millionaire!

A light flashed on the mind, steady and serviceable, but not brilliantly ingenious, of Mr. Macrae. 'This,' he exclaimed rather superfluously, 'accounts for the fiendish skill with which these miscreants took cover when pursued by the Marine Police. _This_ explains the subtle art with which they dodged observation. Doubtless they had always, somewhere, a well-found normal yacht containing their supplies. Do you not agree with me, my lord?'

'In my opinion,' said Bude, 'you have satisfactorily explained what has so long puzzled us. But look! The periscope, having reconnoitred us, is sinking again!'

It was true. The slim spar gracefully descended to the abyss. Again ocean smiled with innumerable laughters (as the Athenian sings), smiled, empty, azure, effulgent! The _Flora Macdonald_ was once more alone on a wide, wide sea!

Two slight jars were now just felt by the owner, skipper, and crew of the _Flora Macdonald_. 'What's that?' asked Mr. Macrae sharply. 'A reef?'

'In my opinion,' said the captain, 'the beggars in the submarine have torpedoed us. Attached torpedoes to our keel, sir,' he explained, respectfully touching his cap and shifting the quid in his cheek. He was a bluff tar of the good old school.

'Merciful heavens!' exclaimed Mr. Macrae, his face paling. 'What can this new outrage mean? Here on our deck is the gold; if they explode their torpedoes the bullion sinks to join the exhaustless treasures of the main!'

'A bit of bluff and blackmail on their part I fancy,' said Bude, lighting a cigarette.

'No doubt! No doubt!' said Mr. Macrae, rather unsteadily. 'They would never be such fools as to blow up the millions. Still, an accident might have awful results.'

'Look there, sir, if you please,' said the captain of the _Flora Macdonald_, 'there's that spar of theirs up again.'

It was so. The spar, the periscope, shot up on the larboard side of the yacht. After it had reconnoitred, the mirror of ocean was stirred into dazzling circling waves, and the deck of a submarine slowly emerged. The deck was long and flat, and of a much larger area than submarines in general have. It would seem to indicate the presence below the water of a body or hull of n.o.ble proportions. A voice hailed the yacht from the submarine, though no speaker was visible.

'You have no consort?' the voice yelled.

'For ten years I have been a widower,' replied Mr. Macrae, his voice trembling with emotion.

'Most sorry to have unintentionally awakened unavailing regrets,' came the voice. 'But I mean, honour bright, you have no attendant armed vessel?'

'None, I promised you so,' said Mr. Macrae; 'I am a man of my word. Come on deck if you doubt me and look for yourself.'

'Not me, and get shot by a rifleman,' said the voice.

'It is very distressing to be distrusted in this manner,' replied Mr.

Macrae. 'Captain McClosky,' he said to the skipper, 'pray request all hands to oblige me by going below.'

The captain issued this order, which the yacht's crew rather reluctantly obeyed. Their interest and curiosity were strongly excited by a scene without precedent in the experience of the oldest mariner.

When they had disappeared Mr. Macrae again addressed the invisible owner of the voice. 'All my crew are below. n.o.body is on deck but Captain McClosky, the Earl of Bude, and myself. We are entirely unarmed. You can see for yourself.' {406}

The owner of the voice replied: 'You have no torpedoes?'

'We have only the armament agreed upon by you to protect this immense ma.s.s of bullion from the attacks of the unscrupulous,' said Mr. Macrae.

'I take heaven to witness that I am honourably observing every article of our agreement, as _per_ yours of August 21.'

'All right,' answered the voice. 'I dare say you are honest. But I may as well tell you _this_, that while pa.s.sing under your yacht we attached two slabs of gun-cotton to her keel. The k.n.o.b connected with them is under my hand. We placed them where they are, not necessarily for publication--explosion, I mean--but merely as a guarantee of good faith.

You understand?'

'Perfectly,' said Mr. Macrae, 'though I regard your proceeding as a fresh and unmerited insult.'

'Merely a precaution usual in business,' said the voice. 'And now,' it went on, 'for the main transaction. You will lower your gold into boats, row it across, and land it here on my deck. When it is all there, _and_ has been inspected by me, you will send one boat rowed by _two men only_, into which Miss Macrae shall be placed and sent back to you. When that has been done we shall part, I hope, on friendly terms and with mutual respect.'

'Captain McClosky,' said Mr. Macrae, 'will you kindly pipe all hands on board to discharge cargo?' The captain obeyed.

Mr. Macrae turned to Bude. 'This is a moment,' he said, 'which tries a father's heart! Presently I must see Emmeline, hear her voice, clasp her to my breast.' Bude mutely wrung the hand of the millionaire, and turned away to conceal his emotion. Seldom, perhaps never, has a father purchased back an only and beloved child at such a cost as Mr. Macrae was now paying without a murmur.

The boats of the _Flora Macdonald_ were lowered and manned, the winches slowly swung each huge box of the precious metal aboard the boats. Mr.

Macrae entrusted the keys of the gold-chests to his officers.

'Remember,' cried the voice from the submarine, 'we must have the gold on board, inspected, and weighed, before we return Miss Macrae.'

'Mean to the last,' whispered the millionaire to the earl; but aloud he only said, 'Very well; I regret, for your own sake, your suspicious character, but, in the circ.u.mstances, I have no choice.'

To Bude he added: 'This is terrible! When he has secured the bullion he may submerge his submarine and go off without returning my daughter.'

This was so manifestly true that Bude could only shake his head and mutter something about 'honour among thieves.'