Airship Part 5

The second wireless message, transmitted via Vancouver, Newfoundland, and Poldu, was to the effect that the "Banzai," the j.a.panese quadruplane piloted by Count Hyas.h.i.+, had started from Nagasaki at a speed estimated at two hundred and twenty miles an hour.

"Artful blighter, that j.a.p," declared Bramsdean. "He's kept his design carefully up his sleeve till the last moment. We thought he was attempting the flight in an airs.h.i.+p, but he's pinned his faith to a gigantic quadruplane."

"Two hundred and twenty miles an hour, too," added Kenyon. "That means he'll do the whole trip in less than 120 hours of actual flying, unless something goes wrong with his 'bus. My word, some speed!"

"What I'd like to know is his petrol consumption, and how much juice does his 'bus carry," remarked Bramsdean, thoughtfully. "By Jove! We're up against something, old son."

"By the by, I see there's no news of Fritz," said Kenneth.

"Not a word," replied Peter. "Von Sinzig evidently thinks that it's too early to start bragging. We'll hear either from or of him before night. Fosterd.y.k.e is trying to call him up by wireless and tell him that he has a friend of his on board."

"Oh, that greasy merchant!" rejoined Kenneth. "How did he get on?"

"Played 'possum," answered Bramsdean. "Fosterd.y.k.e tried to put the wind up him, but it was a frost. I'd like to know what he did to the shackle on the mooring-buoy."

"You think he cast us adrift?"

"Without a doubt, old bird."

Kenyon shook his head doubtfully.

"He might have been simply fis.h.i.+ng when the pin drew and he got whisked aloft," he suggested. "Did he give his name or any particulars?"

"Not he," replied Peter. "In fact he wasn't asked. Fosterd.y.k.e went for him bald-headed and tried to make him admit that he was in von Sinzig's pay. But nothin' doin', even when we made out that we were going to drop him overboard. Well, cheerio, old thing."

Left in charge of the airs.h.i.+p, Kenyon pondered over the problem of whether the man he had rescued had really been a secret agent of von Sinzig or otherwise. If he were, then it would be almost a foregone conclusion that he spoke German.

Kenneth had plenty of time for reflection during his "trick." The "Golden Hind" was making good progress. There was little or no wind, and her drift was in consequence almost imperceptible; while the temperature was so constant that there was no necessity to alter the volume of brodium in the ballonets for hours at a stretch. The motors, too, ran like clockwork, and beyond attending to the semi-automatic lubricators occasionally, the air-mechanics on duty had little to do. Fosterd.y.k.e, having paid a brief visit to the navigating room, retired to his cabin to make up arrears of sleep.

"Might work," soliloquised Kenneth, reflectively. "I'll tackle Fosterd.y.k.e about it next time I come across him."

At four in the afternoon Malta was pa.s.sed at a distance of ten miles to the south'ard. The "Golden Hind" was doing well, maintaining more than her normal cruising speed. If she were able to keep on at that rate she would accomplish the voyage of circ.u.mnavigation well under the twenty days; but that was now but a secondary consideration. At all costs von Sinzig's Z64 must be overhauled.

The "Golden Hind's" first stop was at Alexandria, sixteen hours after leaving Gibraltar. She made a faultless landing on sandy spit that separates Lake Mareotis from the Mediterranean. The time of her arrival had been notified by wireless, and all preparations had been made for her reception. Keenly interested Tommies manned the trail ropes and secured her firmly to anchors buried in the sand; lorries laden with petrol and oil were rushed to the spot, and the work of refuelling began without delay. While Fosterd.y.k.e and Kenyon were signing the "control certificate" and holding an informal reception of almost the whole of the British Colony at Alexandria, Bramsdean remained in charge of the airs.h.i.+p.

In order to keep back the dense crowd, composed of fellaheen, Copts, Arabs, Syrians, and representatives of every nation bordering on the Mediterranean, strong picquets of British troops were posted round the tethered airs.h.i.+p, no unauthorised person being permitted to approach within a hundred yards of the "Golden Hind"; while to enable the work of refuelling to proceed as rapidly as possible, the improvised aerodrome was brilliantly illuminated by portable searchlights mounted on motor lorries.

It seemed as if it would be impossible for any suspicious characters to approach the airs.h.i.+p without being detected. Having once been "bitten," Fosterd.y.k.e was not taking chances in that direction.

No attempt had been made to get rid of Enrico Jaures. Closely watched by a couple of the crew, he was even permitted to view the proceedings from an open scuttle in one of the compartments on the starboard side.

When everything was in readiness to resume the voyage, Fosterd.y.k.e and Kenyon shook hands with their entertainers and crossed the guarded square. As they approached the entry port on the starboard side a dark figure suddenly appeared from behind an unattended lorry, and at a distance of ten paces fired half a dozen shots in rapid succession straight at the baronet.

Almost at the first report Fosterd.y.k.e threw himself at full length upon the sand. Kenyon, without hesitation, rushed upon the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin, while two of the crew, leaping from the fuselage, promptly seized the miscreant and deprived him of his automatic pistol.

"Hurt, sir?" asked Kenyon, anxiously.

"Not a bit of it," replied Sir Reginald coolly. "That fellow couldn't hit a haystack at five yards. Bring him along, men."

An agitated member of the Egyptian Civil Service, accompanied by a couple of staff officers, hurried up, and after making inquiries and learning that Fosterd.y.k.e was unhurt, suggested, not without good reason, that the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin should be handed over to the civil powers for trial.

The baronet airily swept aside the suggestion.

"Sorry, Vansittart," he said; "but I'm not going to waste precious time appearing as a prosecutor in this business. No, I'm not exactly professing to take the law into my own hands, but I propose taking the gentleman with me. If he tried to shoot me, surely I can jolly well kidnap him. 'Tany rate, possession's nine points of the law. When I've done with him you can deal with him."

"But, dash it all, man!" exclaimed one of the staff officers; "you aren't going to--to----"

"Hang him? Not much," declared the baronet. "Return good for evil sort of thing, you know. Don't get fl.u.s.tered, Vansittart. He's mine, and we're just off."

Happening to glance up as he entered the fuselage, Fosterd.y.k.e caught sight of Enrico Jaures, who had seen the whole incident through one of the windows.

"Birds of a feather," he soliloquised. "However, I don't suppose we'll pick up pals of this sort at every place we touch. All ready, Kenyon?" he enquired, raising his voice. "Right-o; let go."

CHAPTER XII.

--CONFIDENCES.

In one of the store-rooms, the contents of which had been removed in order to adapt the place to present requirements, sat Enrico Jaures and the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin. They were under lock and key and had been unceremoniously bundled into durance vile without the formality of an introduction.

Enrico was feeling fairly content, in spite of being a prisoner. After all, he reflected, nothing had been proved against him. He had scored in his encounter with the captain and owner of the British airs.h.i.+p, and, all things considered, he was being well treated.

He made no remark when his new companion was gently but firmly propelled through the doorway. The newcomer was equally reticent; so the ill-a.s.sorted pair--one rigged out in the nondescript garments of a low-cla.s.s inhabitant of Gibraltar and the other in European clothes and a tarboosh--sat in opposite corners of the limited s.p.a.ce.

For the best part of an hour neither spoke. Occasionally they regarded each other furtively. Then the gentleman who had demonstrated so effectively how not to shoot straight began to slumber. Sitting on his haunches with his arms clasped round his bent knees, he nodded his crimson tarboosh until his head found a rather uncomfortable resting-place on his clasped hands.

Then in his somnolent condition he began muttering his wandering sentences, punctuated with many "Achs!"

Enrico listened intently. Hitherto he had been in ignorance of the motive that had prompted the would-be murderer. Now he had enough evidence to form the conclusion that they both had a motive in common--to wreck the attempt of the British compet.i.tor to win the Chauva.s.se Prize.

Nevertheless Jaures was of a cautious disposition, and when his companion awoke he still maintained his att.i.tude of aloofness.

Breakfast time came. One of the "Golden Hind's" crew appeared with quite a substantial meal, and both men were hungry. The pure, cold air, a striking contrast to the hot, enervating atmosphere of Alexandria, had given them an enormous appet.i.te, and the fact that they had to share their meals and were not provided with knives and forks did not trouble them.

"Pa.s.s the salt," said Enrico's companion, speaking in German.

Jaures complied without hesitation. The request was so natural that it took him completely off his guard.

"So you do speak German," remarked the wearer of the tarboosh.

Enrico shook his head.

"Come, come," continued the other. "Do not say that you cannot. I asked you for the salt. I was not looking at it, so that you have no excuse."

Jaures swallowed a big chunk of bread and stole cautiously to the door. For a few seconds he listened lest there should be anyone eavesdropping without.

"Yes," he admitted. "My mother was German. But don't speak so loudly."

"From what town came she?" enquired his companion.

"From Lubeck," he replied.

"And I come from Immeristadt. I am a Swabian and my name is Otto Freising," announced the German. "What are you doing here?"

"I am not here of my own free will," said Jaures, guardedly. He was rather inclined to shut up like an oyster, but his semi-compatriot was persistent.

"I suppose these Englishmen will hang me," remarked Otto. "My one regret is that I did not succeed in my attempt."

"What attempt?" asked Enrico, innocently. As a matter of fact he knew, having watched the shooting affray.

Otto told him.

"The trouble is," he added, "I've been paid for this business. Ten thousand Egyptian piastres. I have a banker's order for that amount in my pocket. Will they search me?"

"Without a doubt," replied Enrico, whose knowledge of British criminal courts was of a first-hand order. "But in a way you are lucky. You were paid--I was not. I succeeded--you failed."

The German raised his eyebrows, but forbore to elicit further information concerning Jaures' motives.

"My difficulty," resumed Otto, "is what I am to do with this banker's order. I undertook the business because I was hard up, and should I be hanged or even imprisoned my family will not benefit because the money will be confiscated."

He paused. Enrico eyed him thoughtfully. He would willingly rob anybody. Now was a chance of enriching himself at the expense of his semi-compatriot.

"These English cannot keep me in captivity much longer," he observed. "They can prove nothing against me. When I regain my liberty I propose paying a visit to my mother's relations in Lubeck. Perhaps I might be able to render you a service by handing that draft to your relatives."

Otto showed no great eagerness to close with the offer. His hesitation increased his companion's cupidity.

"Rest a.s.sured that the money will eventually reach a safe destination," he urged enigmatically. "Better even to run the risk of its being lost than to let it fall into the hands of these Englishmen."

"That is so," agreed Otto. "At any rate I can entrust it in your keeping for the next few days until I know what they propose doing with me. You will, of course, be paid well for your trouble."

Enrico waved his hands deprecatingly, swearing by his patron Saint Enrico of Guadalajara that it would be a pleasure and a duty to a.s.sist a German in distress.

"Very well, then," agreed Otto, producing a paper from the double crown of his tarboosh.

The Rock Scorp, craftily concealing his delight at the success of his plan, took the doc.u.ment and glanced at the amount written thereon. As he did so he uttered an exclamation.

"Dios!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"What is it?" enquired Otto.

"The signature--Hans von Effrich. I know the man. He was at Barcelona when the U-boats were busy. I helped him to--"

He broke off abruptly, realising, perhaps, that there were limits to an exchange of confidences.

"Von Effrich--I have never met him," declared Otto. "All I know is that he is now an agent for Count Karl von Sinzig."

"Where is he now?" enquired Jaures.

"Who?--von Sinzig or von Effrich?"

"Von Effrich."

"He is usually to be found in Corinth," replied Otto. "Why do you ask?"

"Because he might also pay me what von Sinzig owes me," replied Enrico. "We apparently are engaged on similar tasks."

"To cripple or delay this airs.h.i.+p," added Otto. "Up to the present we have not made much of a success of it. My prospects are not at all bright, but my one hope is that when we arrive at Singapore von Blicker will be there. A clever fellow, von Blicker. I met him at von Effrich's house just before I left Corinth for Alexandria--a month ago."

"What is he going to do?" asked Enrico.

"I believe he'll---- S's.h.!.+ someone coming."

CHAPTER XIII.

--THE TAIL OF A CYCLONE.

"Hanged if I like the look of things one little bit," declared Fosterd.y.k.e, frankly. "Gla.s.s dropping as quickly as if the bottom of it had fallen out, and on top of it all we get this."

"This" was a wireless from Point de Galle announcing that a terrific cyclone was raging west of the Maldive Islands, its path being a "right-hand circle." That meant that unless the "Golden Hind" made a radical alteration of course she would encounter the full force of the wind.

It was the fourth day of the race. The "Golden Hind" had pa.s.sed over Socotra at daybreak and was on her way across the Arabian Sea, her next scheduled landing-place being Colombo.

"If we carry on we'll hit the tail of the cyclone," said Kenyon, consulting a chart of the Indian Ocean.

"Yes, but what is worse we'd pa.s.s through the dangerous storm-centre, and then more than likely get a nose-ender on the other side, if we were lucky enough to weather the centre," replied Fosterd.y.k.e. "It's too jolly risky, Kenyon. At fifteen thousand feet it may be as bad or worse than at five hundred feet up. Call up Murgatroyd, and ask what petrol there is in the tanks."

Kenneth went to the voice tube and made the necessary enquiry of the engineer.

"By Jove, we'll risk it!" declared Fosterd.y.k.e, when he received the desired information. "We'll go south a bit, and then make straight for Fremantle."

Kenyon was taken aback with the audacity of the proposal. The distance between Socotra and Western Australia was a good 5000 miles, or thirty-six hours of uninterrupted flight. At 140 miles an hour there was sufficient fuel on board for forty hours, which meant a reserve of four hours only in case of anything occurring to protract the run.

"Oh, we'll do it," said Fosterd.y.k.e, confidently, as he noticed his companion's look of blank amazement. "Better run the risk of cutting things fine than to barge into a cyclone. Sou'-east by south is the course."