VAUGHAN WHITTINGHAME had not made the proposal on the spur of the moment. He already knew the circumstances under which Dacres had left the Service; he was aware that the young man was "down on his luck;" he also had found out that he had volunteered for the Royal Flying Corps.
Dacres was a man who could be useful to him in more ways than one. He was used to command; he had a thorough knowledge of armaments, and what was more essential he was used to navigating a ship and could determine his position by either solar or stellar observation. The coolness with which he had followed Whittinghame into what might have proved to be a dangerous trap convinced the latter that the ex-naval officer was a man on whom he could entirely depend.
"Conditionally—yes," replied Dacres, whereat his companion was even better pleased. He was not a hot-headed man, he reflected.
"What stipulations do you lay down?" he asked.
"One only," answered Dacres. "That I am not called upon to assist in committing any acts prejudicial to the interests of King and country."
"That I can safely agree to. But before I give you any details as to the nature of my masterpiece I ought to explain the reasons why I have undertaken a definite mission."
"Quite so," assented Dacres.
"You are not too tired? Would you rather turn in?"
"Not in the least. Fire away; I am all attention."
"You've heard, of course, of Valderia?" began Whittinghame abruptly.
"Yes, that rotten tin-pot South American republic that owes its very existence to the jealousy between Chili and Peru."
"That's the average Englishman's idea of Valderia. You can take it from me that that republic is greatly under-rated. The inhabitants, of course, are of the usual South American type: the better class are Creoles and the lower class are a mixture of Spanish, Negro, and Indian blood. You may remember President Santobar? He was assassinated about two years ago—in March, 1917, to be correct. He was a most able ruler as far as order and progress went. Under his presidency Valderia became prosperous. Gold was found there, and also, although not generally known, platinum. That pair of horns, for example, is overlaid with thin platinum from the San Bonetta mines. At current London prices that metal is worth at least eight thousand pounds.
"My brother Gerald had a mining concession at San Bonetta, which is less than thirty miles from the capital, Naocuanha. He was held in great esteem by President Santobar, who often asked his advice on matters concerning internal transport.
"After a while prosperity turned the Valderians heads. They hankered after military and naval supremacy amongst the South American republics; and since Santobar was of a peace-loving disposition, there was a revolution and he was deposed. Four days after the revolution the president was murdered, and an octroon named Diego Zaypuru became dictator.
"A glance at the map will convince anyone who studies the situation of the favourable physical conditions of Valderia. It has a fair extent of coast-line, possessing several deep and land-locked harbours, while a semi-circle of lofty snow-capped mountains, breaking off abruptly at the coast on the northern and southern frontiers, form a well-nigh impossible barrier between it and the neighbouring states.
"Although the climate on the littoral is unhealthy it is quite the reverse on the three great terraces that lie between the sea and the Sierras. Not only is there abundant mineral wealth, but two of these plateaux are extremely suitable for raising corn and rearing cattle.
"Had the Valderians contented themselves with their commercial advantages they might easily, within a few years, have become the most prosperous state of South America, but their aptitude for commerce was outweighed by their desire for the hollow glory of feats of arms.
"One of President Zaypuru's first acts was to purchase a Super-Dreadnought that had been constructed at Elswick to the order of another South American republic; four ocean-going destroyers were bought from the Vulkan Yard at Stettin, and six semi-obsolete submarines were obtained from the French government. These formed the nucleus of the Valderian navy, while docks were constructed at Zandovar, the port of Naocuanha.
"At the same time an army of fifteen thousand men was raised, armed with modern rifles, and drilled by ex-non-commissioned officers of the German army. Of course, President Zaypuru must have an aerial fleet, and with this object in view he sent for my brother.
"Gerald and I had always been very keen on all matters appertaining to aviation and aeronautics. Before he left England for Valderia we prepared plans in duplicate of a veritable Dreadnought of the Air—in fact, they were the plans from which my airship was constructed.
"It was agreed that as soon as Gerald made sufficient money he was to return home, and both of us were to carry our long-cherished plan into effect.
"Somehow, Don Diego Zaypuru came to know of the existence of these plans, and sending for my brother offered him immense sums if he would superintend the construction of an aerial Dreadnought on the lines indicated in the design.
"Gerald had sufficient foresight to be prepared for a rupture. He had already sent home an amount more than enough to defray the cost of building and maintaining the projected airship. He was actually about to leave the country when the President's arbitrary summons was presented to him.
"There was no love lost between my brother and the murderer of ex-President Santobar. Gerald point-blank refused to have any truck with Zaypuru; and because of this refusal my brother was arrested and thrown into prison, where he still remains.
"It is with the primary object of rescuing my brother from the clutches of President Zaypuru that my Dreadnought of the Air—the 'Meteor,' as I have named her—has now become an airship in being."
"But surely," remarked Dacres, taking advantage of a pause in the narrative, "surely the British government would take up the matter, since the life and liberty of one of its subjects is at stake?"
"You have not yet heard all of the business, Dacres. In the first place, the lethargy of the British government is proverbial. The time has passed when England would strike and explain afterwards. Now a long-winded and generally futile course of diplomatic relations is the order of things. My own opinion is that sooner than release my brother President Zaypuru would put him out of the way, disclaim knowledge of the act, and if pressed offer apologies and a monetary indemnity.
"But there is another phase in the story of Valderia. You remember, of course, a renegade called von Harburg?"
"The fellow Captain Restronguet tracked and eventually discovered dead somewhere in Portuguese East Africa. Yes, and curiously enough I met Hythe in town this afternoon."
"In all probability you'll meet again ere long; but to carry on. Von Harburg's base was in the Dutch East Indies, and, when the 'Vorwartz' was captured, the renegade's Sumatran retreat was occupied by Dutch troops and the remainder of his gang dispersed.
"The fellow whom von Harburg had left in charge of his repairing-base was a Mexican named Reno Durango. He is a clever rascal, from all accounts, for on being pushed out of Sumatra—he managed, by the by, to get clear with a tidy sum of money—he volunteered his services to President Zaypuru as adviser to the submarine branch of the infant Valderian navy.
"The semi-obsolete French submarines were equipped with many of von Harburg's really dangerous means of offence; while Durango managed to build a large airship from the plans which had been found in Gerald's house. Of course that airship does not embody all my inventions, still it is not to be despised. I would class it as superior to any dirigible now owned by the Great Powers.
"But to get back to the submarine part of my narrative. Reno Durango's ambition was to acquire the secrets of the British 'M' class of submarines—those built to the same type as the renowned 'Aphrodite.' And with this object in view, I hear from a very trustworthy source—from one of my brother's native assistants and a real loyal man to his employer's interests—that Durango is on his way to England to attempt to steal the specifications from the British Admiralty."
Dacres smiled.
"Surely," he said incredulously, "the fellow doesn't know the utter impracticability of his scheme. His appearance, his accent, would betray him. Besides, see how jealously those secrets are guarded."
"Perhaps you do not know that this rascal was educated in England—at a public school near London. He speaks English perfectly. He is as wily as a fox, and since he has ample funds—well, there have been instances of high officials being known to sell state secrets for a considerable bribe, you know."
"The Admiralty ought to be warned."
"I agree with you. I mean to do so; but there is plenty of time. Durango is still on the high seas. Now you can follow my plan of operation. The 'Meteor' has now passed her final trials. In a few days I mean to offer my services to the Admiralty and to ask for a letter of marque to destroy the airship that the Valderian government has taken under its protection. In the course of this operation I hope to rescue my brother."
"But Valderia is a friendly state. The republic has been recognized by the Powers," objected Dacres.
"Admitted; but the airship is still the private property of Reno Durango, and since that rogue is branded as an outlaw—for the declaration by the Great Powers against Karl von Harburg and his gang has never been withdrawn—he is still the lawful prey to anyone who can lay him by the heels."
"When taking refuge in a neutral country?"
"We'll see about that later on," rejoined Whittinghame grimly. "Suppose we knock off now; you've quite enough to dream about to-night."
"One moment," said Dacres, a thought flashing across his mind. "What is this fellow Durango like?"
"I'll describe him—no, I won't. I've a photograph of him somewhere. I'll fetch it."
"Don't trouble."
"No trouble at all. Have another cigar."
Whittinghame hurried out of the room, soon to return with a cabinet photograph in his hand.
"Here you are," he announced. Dacres took the photograph. One glance was sufficient.
"It strikes me rather forcibly that you are mistaken about Reno Durango," he remarked. "He is not on the high seas: he's in England. I travelled from Waterloo in the same carriage with him this afternoon."
WHITTINGHAME sprang to his feet, the muscles of his face working with excitement.
"That's serious—decidedly serious," he exclaimed. "We can't afford to underrate that fellow. Look here, Dacres, there's a job for you the first thing to-morrow. Your formal introduction to the 'Meteor' can wait."
"Very good; what is it?"
"You told me you knew Commander Hythe; go up to town to-morrow morning and warn him. Don't give him the name of your informant, merely say that Reno Durango is in England, and was seen in a Portsmouth train. That will be enough—he knows the character of the rogue. If we can nab the fellow on English soil that will save a lot of complications, for otherwise it won't end only in a rupture between Great Britain and Valderia. Valderia is only a pawn in the game as far as Durango is concerned. If he succeeds in obtaining the secret specifications and getting back to Zandovar he will, of course, apply his knowledge to the improvement of the Valderian submarines."
Whittinghame paused to wipe his face. The perspiration was slowly trickling down his forehead. He was labouring under intense mental strain. Dacres made no remark. He allowed his companion to take his time. Presently Whittinghame resumed.
"No, Valderia hardly counts in Durango's estimation. He is playing for higher stakes. Once he has succeeded in working the specifications what is there to prevent him from negotiating with some of the Great Powers? Should the secret pass into the hands of our avowed rivals, in a very short space of time they would possess a fleet of submarines of the 'Aphrodite' type, and our present unquestionable superiority would become a thing of the past."
"I see the drift of your argument," said Dacres. "In a way, Durango indirectly gains you the sympathy of the government, and your plans to rescue your brother will be facilitated."
"You've hit the right nail on the head, Dacres," observed Whittinghame. "Now let's see about turning in. It is half-past one."
Dacres was shown into a small but well-furnished bedroom. He noticed, with considerable surprise, that his small handbag for immediate use was placed on a chair by, the side of his bed.
"Hang it!" he exclaimed, as soon as he was left alone. "I clean forgot all about that bag. I must have dropped it when Callaghan and Co. tracked me in the wood. Well, I'm in luck—by Jove, I am! Here I am signed on for service in the mysterious airship—and already entrusted with an important mission. By the by, I wonder what that fellow Callaghan meant by saying, 'He's one of them!' I'll ask Whittinghame in the morning."
Even the momentous events of the day did not keep Dacres from sleeping. In less than ten minutes he was lost to the world in a sound, dreamless slumber.
At seven o'clock Dacres was awakened by a knock on the door, and in reply to his "All right" the man Williamson, who had acted as butler on the preceding evening, entered.
"Your bath is ready, sir," he announced, "and Mr. Whittinghame presents his compliments and would you care to make use of this suit of clothes until you can get your luggage?"
Half an hour later Dacres, rigged out in a suit of his host's—which fitted him fairly well considering the slight difference in height—entered the diningroom, where breakfast was already served.
"Hope it's not too early for you," remarked Whittinghame after the customary morning greetings, "but the matter is urgent. One of my monoplanes will be ready for you at half-past eight. With luck you ought to be at the Admiralty soon after ten—that, I believe, is the usual hour at which the officials arrive preparatory to duty. All being well you should be back by noon. If, for any unforeseen cause, you are detained you might communicate with me."
"How?" asked Dacres; "by telegraph?"
Whittinghame shook his head.
"Too risky, in spite of the vaunted 'official reticence' of the Postmaster-General. No, there is another way—by wireless."
"By wireless?" echoed Dacres.
"Why not? The monoplane is fitted with an installation of the latest type, and Callaghan, who is to pilot you, is a skilled operator. You give him any message and he will transmit it in code."
"There was one thing I meant to ask you," said Dacres, in the course of the meal. "Have any persons attempted to trespass upon your property?"
"Yes, several," was the reply. "At first I had a lot of trouble with poachers, until I effectually scared them off. After that I had to deal with one or two members of Durango's gang."
"Then, Durango knows of the existence of the 'Meteor' and of her place of concealment?"
"Oh, no. He knows through his spies that I have taken a house in the New Forest, but I do not for one moment think he suspects that the 'Meteor' is hidden here. To conceal an airship of over a thousand feet in length in a comparatively small plantation seems illogical. That is the beauty of the whole scheme. He knows right enough who the owner of the 'Meteor' is—he has good reasons for so doing—but it is to his own interests to keep that a secret."
"Why do his agents prowl about here?"
"Under his orders. I don't believe that they even know who or what he is, but money will work wonders. If these fellows had the opportunity I don't suppose they would hesitate to kidnap or even murder me; but I don't give them the chance. You may recollect that when you made your way through the fence a bell rang?"
"Now you mention it, I do."
"That is for the purpose of raising an alarm. Also two of the wires of that fence are electrically charged. By a thousand to one chances you missed them. Had you touched them you would have been held powerless till my men released you. Again, had you made a dash for liberty last night, you would have found the drive barred by a gate. Naturally you would either open it, or vault over the top. In either case you would have been stopped by the live wire and become as helpless as a fly stuck to a fly paper."
"Then, perhaps it's as well I didn't attempt it," remarked Dacres with a smile. "I'm jolly glad I didn't for other reasons. But what happens when tradesmen andbona fidevisitors call?"
"They are few and far between," replied Whittinghame. "We make due allowance for them. Fifty yards beyond the electrically-charged gate is another gate. The lodge-keeper has to open that, and if he is certain that the callers are above suspicion, he switches off the current and telephones up to the house."
"Then, where is the generating station?"
"Underground. In fact, all the gas-producing plant and workshops are underground. I'll show them to you when you return. By a rare slice of luck the house is built on the site of an old royal hunting-lodge, and the extensive cellars still remain, although long forgotten until we discovered them by pure accident. Otherwise, had the workshops to be above ground, the risk of detection would be infinitely great. But it's close on the half-hour. Are you ready for your journey?"
On a lawn in front of the house was a two-seated monoplane, one of the standard "Velox" design that had recently become popular in Great Britain. Aviation as a means of making a journey had become quite common, and an aeroplane in flight attracted no more attention than a taxi in the Strand.
Callaghan, a burly, good-natured Irishman, was already in the pilot's seat. On his left was the wireless installation which, since the monoplane was automatically steered when once in the air, could be worked without detriment to Callaghan's other duties. The passenger's seat, in the rear and slightly higher than the pilot's, was protected from the wind and rain by an enclosed structure resembling the body of the now defunct hansom-cab. To view the country beneath him the passenger could make use of the two sponson-like windows on either side, through which the traveller, leaning sideways, could see immediately below.
There was no necessity for half a dozen men to hang on to the monoplane's tail. As soon as Dacres had taken his seat, Callaghan thrust forward a short lever and the propeller began to revolve. The passenger was made aware that the flight had begun by reason of his head coming into contact with the padded back of the cab, and by a sinking sensation in the region of his waist like the experience when being suddenly jerked up in a lift.
Beyond that there was nothing to give an impression of flight. The glass protected him from the wind and silenced the buzz of the powerful rotary motor, and it was not until Dacres looked over the side and saw the moorland and forest slipping away beneath him that he realized that he was being borne through the air at one hundred and twenty miles an hour.
Even at that terrific speed the light westerly wind caused an appreciable drift. In eight minutes the monoplane was over and slightly to the west of Southampton. Here Callaghan altered the course to counteract the cross air-current, and three minutes later Winchester, nestling between the downs, glided underneath like a panoramic effect. Then Alton and Aldershot were left behind in quick succession, and forty minutes after leaving the ground Dacres discerned the Thames looking like a silvery thread amidst the meadows and woods of Middlesex and Surrey.
With the rapid progress and popularity of aviation many of the restrictions that had been placed upon the pioneers of this branch of aeronautics had been abolished. It was no longer forbidden to fly over towns, and the metropolis was no exception. In fact, a portion of Hyde Park had, with part of other open spaces, been allotted to the use of airmen.
It was to the Hyde Park alighting station that Callaghan steered. Had he been a stranger to London he could easily have found his way by reason of hundreds of aeroplanes making for or returning from the most central aviation ground in the metropolis.
Speed was reduced to a safe forty miles an hour, which, after the rapid rush, seemed to Dacres more like a painful crawl in a motor-bus through Cheapside.
Almost immediately beneath them was Hyde Park. The monoplane was circling now in company with ten more, spread out at regular intervals like a flock of wood-pigeons in flight.
Presently Callaghan's practised eye caught sight of the signal he was waiting for: a huge red and white disk rotated till its face was visible from above. It was to signify that the ground was clear to receive the next batch of waiting 'planes. Fascinated, Dacres watched the sward apparently rising to meet him. The volplane was so steep that it seemed that nothing could prevent the monoplane from being dashed to bits upon the earth. So acute was the angle that he had to plant his feet firmly against the front of the cab to prevent himself from slipping from his seat.
Suddenly the whole fabric tilted upwards, then with a barely perceptible jar and a strange sensation in the back of his neck, Dacres found himself on terra firma in the heart of the metropolis.
"We would have done it in forty-eight minutes, sir, if it hadn't been for that block," remarked Callaghan apologetically, as he opened the door. "You'll find me over by that pylon, sir. We are not allowed to wait here."
"Very good," replied Dacres, and feeling rather stiff in his lower limbs, hurried to the exit, called a taxi, and was soon bowling along towards Whitehall.
"I wish to see Commander Hythe," he announced to the petty-officer messenger on duty at the Admiralty.
The man consulted a register.
"I'm sorry, sir," he replied, "but Commander Hythe is not in the building. Mr. Wells is doing duty for him. Would you wish to see Mr. Wells sir?"
"I don't know the man," thought Dacres, "and I don't suppose he'll know me. In any case, he can tell me where Hythe is with more certainty than the messenger. Very well," he said. "I'll see Mr. Wells."
Much to his disgust Dacres had to cool his heels in a waiting-room for full twenty minutes until the official was at liberty to receive him.
Commander Hythe was on duty at Portsmouth, Dacres was informed. It was quite uncertain when he would return: it might be a matter of a few hours or it might be a couple of days.
"We've got to run down to Portsmouth, Callaghan," announced Dacres as he rejoined the monoplane. "Send a message to Mr. Whittinghame and explain that Commander Hythe is away on duty and that I am going to get in touch with him."
"Very good, sir. I'll send off a wireless when we are clear of this place. I'll land you on the Officers' Recreation Ground."
"That will do nicely," agreed Dacres as he took his seat.
Thirty-nine minutes after leaving Hyde Park the monoplane shaved past the tower of Portsmouth Town Hall and alighted at the spot the Irishman had suggested.
From a police inspector at the Dockyard gate Dacres elicited the information that Commander Hythe was engaged with the Commander-in-Chief, and that it was very doubtful whether he could be seen.
"But I must see him," declared Dacres peremptorily, "the Commander-in-Chief notwithstanding. This is official and not private business. Would you mind letting me have paper and envelope? I'll write a note and one of your men can take it to Commander Hythe."
Five minutes later a telephone message was received at the gate to the effect that Commander Hythe would receive Mr. Dacres at once.
"Hulloa, old man!" exclaimed the youthful commander as Dacres was shown into the office.
"You've come at a very busy time. I can give you five minutes only. What can I do for you?"
Hythe's usually cheerful face looked drawn and haggard. It seemed as if he had aged ten years since yesterday, when Dacres met him in Northumberland Avenue.
"I've been sent to warn you that the plans of the 'M' class of submarines are in danger."
"To warn me," echoed Hythe grimly. "My dear fellow, you're too late. The plans and specifications were stolen from the manager's confidential record room between six last evening and this morning. That's why I'm here."
"RENO DURANGO is the culprit," said Dacres. "If you lay him by the heels the secret will be safe."
"But the fellow isn't in England," objected Hythe.
"Perhaps not," agreed Dacres. "But he was last night. I saw him in the train."
"Then why on earth didn't you report the matter?"
"Simply because I had then no idea who or what he was. I know now."
"Come and see the Admiral," said the Commander, taking his friend by the arm.
"One minute. Look here, old man, I'm in a bit of a fix. I'm not a free agent in the matter. Besides——"
"Can't be helped. This is a matter of national importance."
"Very well, then; only don't give the show away that I once held his Majesty's commission."
Dacres found himself in the company of the Commander-in-Chief, the Admiral Superintendent of the Dockyard, two naval secretaries, the Superintendent of Police, and two high officials from Scotland Yard.
To these he related the circumstances under which he had met the Mexican in the train, and that he had come purposely to warn his friend, Commander Hythe, that the plans of the submarines were in danger.
"Did you come here on your own initiative, sir?" asked one of the Scotland Yard men.
"No," replied Dacres. "I was acting under instructions."
"Whose, might I ask?"
This was an awkward question. Dacres hesitated.
"One who has good reason to wish to see Durango arrested," he replied guardedly. "I'm not at liberty at present to divulge his name."
"But suppose we insist?" asked the Commander-in-Chief bluntly.
"No useful purpose would result, sir," said Dacres boldly. "In fact, the chances of recovering the papers would be considerably retarded. I will return at once to my principal and inform him of the loss of the documents. No doubt he will act promptly and unreservedly in conjunction with you. Meanwhile, I would suggest that you ascertain what ships left Southampton between six o'clock yesterday and the present time. By giving a description of this Señor Durango you will possibly be able to find out whether he has left the country."
"That we propose to do," said one of the Scotland Yard officials with owl-like wisdom. As a matter of fact, such an idea had not previously entered his head.
"Very well, gentlemen," said Dacres firmly, "I will now take my leave. I can assure you that at present I can be of no further use to you. No doubt my principal will communicate with you in due course."
Dacres certainly held the whip hand. He was no longer a naval officer subject to the King's Regulations; there was not the faintest excuse for arresting him, while his vague hint as to what might happen if he were detained could not be ignored.
Hythe followed him into the ante-room.
"I say, old man," he exclaimed, "what sort of enterprise have you embarked upon?"
"Something that will never cause me to regret leaving the Service," replied Dacres. "You'll be surprised when you are told, but I cannot say any more about it at present. Cheer up, old fellow! We'll get those plans before there's any serious damage done."
"Stop at Southampton, Callaghan," ordered Dacres, as calmly as if he were giving directions to a taxi-driver. "Somewhere as close to the shipping offices as you can."
The pilot was "all out" to break records, and within eight minutes of the time of rising from the ground he alighted at Southampton—a distance of sixteen miles as the crow flies.
Dacre's instincts prompted him first to visit the offices of a Brazilian steamship company. Fortune favoured him, for he made the discovery that a man answering to his description of Señor Durango had booked a passage on board the S.S "Maranhao." The ship had cleared Southampton Docks at 10 a.m.
"She's well down Channel by this time," soliloquised Dacres. "The rogue is safe for the time being, for the authorities dare not arrest him on a vessel flying Brazilian colours."
"What is the speed of the 'Maranhao'?" he asked of the English clerk in the firm's office.
"She's a fairly slow boat, sir," replied the man apologetically. "You see, she's running a relief trip, because the 'Alagoas' has broken her mainshaft. Twelve knots would be her average."
Dacres thanked him for the information and inquired when the "Maranhao" was likely to arrive at her destination—Pernambuco.
The man was unable to hazard an opinion, but in answer to further inquiries said that the distance from Southampton to Pernambuco was 3920 seamiles.
Allowing for a stop at Cape Verde Islands, Dacres came to the conclusion that the "Maranhao" would take at least thirteen and a half days to reach Pernambuco. This was reassuring, and having thanked the clerk for the trouble he had taken, he rejoined Callaghan and gave instructions to be whirled back to Whittinghame's retreat.
"We're too late," he announced as Vaughan Whittinghame came from the house to meet him. "Durango has contrived to get hold of the plans."
"Knowing the man I am not surprised," replied the owner of the "Meteor" calmly. "Have they collared him?"
"No; he's on the high seas. In another thirteen or fourteen days he'll land at Pernambuco—if he doesn't double on his tracks and disembark at Las Palmas or Cape Verde."
"He won't," said Whittinghame. "He'll get across to Naocuanha as sharp as he can possibly manage it. We'll try to nab him when he enters Valderian territory. It would be too risky to do so before."
As briefly as he could Dacres related the incidents of his aerial journey and his interview with the authorities at Portsmouth.
"I told them that in the interests of the Empire you would doubtless communicate with them direct," he added.
"I will," assented Whittinghame.
"When?" asked Dacres eagerly.
"Plenty of time. Let them have a chance to indulge in a mild panic. We will pay them an official visit at the end of the week—say on Saturday."
"We?" repeated Dacres.
"Yes—in the 'Meteor' There are times when dramatic moments are desirable, and this is one of them. I'll write to the Commander-in-Chief and inform him that the airship that has caused so much stir in official circles will appear at Portsmouth at 10 a.m. on the 9th instant, and that her commander will, in support of his deputy's assurances, communicate an important announcement to the representatives of My Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty—sounds imposing, eh? Well, let's have lunch, and then I'll introduce you to the 'Meteor.'"
During the meal Whittinghame studiously avoided talking "shop." He discussed topics of ordinary interest with consummate ease, his knowledge of all branches of sport being especially profound. He had all the noteworthy records of athletics at his fingers' ends, and had the happy knack of imparting his knowledge without conveying the idea that he was trying to be pedantic.
"Before we go outside," he said, after lunch was over, "suppose we have a look at the workshops?"
"I should be delighted," assented his guest.
"This is my private entrance," announced Whittinghame, touching an almost invisible projection on the wall and causing a secret panel to open. "At one time it was a boast that an Englishman's house was his castle, but that is no longer true. Since I cannot prevent the minions of the Government from entering my house and taking an immense amount of data for some useless purpose, I must protect my own interests by this means. I discovered the secret panel after the under-ground cellars had been opened up from outside. Evidently it was a 'Priest's hole,' or refuge in troublous times. This is a seventeenth century house built over cellars of a much older date. Mind the steps; they are a lot worn in places."
At the lowermost step Whittinghame stopped and unlocked a baize-covered door. A faint buzz greeted Dacre's ears.
"The doors are almost sound-proof," continued his guide. "Wait while I switch on a light."
The brilliant glow from an electric lamp revealed the fact that they were standing in a long narrow passage, with a door at the far end similar to the one that had just been opened.
"You wonder why I use lamps in a house when there is electric lighting in the cellars?" asked Whittinghame, noting the look of surprise on his companion's face. "It's easy to explain. If I had electric fittings installed in the house they would cause comment. By retaining the old-fashioned system of lighting it helps to keep up the deception that this is a remote country house and the home of a simple country gentleman of limited means. This is the retort room," he added, opening the second sound-proof door.
The place reeked of gas. Dacres felt somewhat apprehensive, for there were no visible means of ventilation.
"Quite harmless," said Whittinghame reassuringly. "We use electricity for producing the gas ultra-hydrogen we term it. I had the secret from a German scientist who was unable to sell his priceless formula in his own country. He was regarded as a lunatic, poor fellow. This ultra-hydrogen has, under equal conditions of density and capacity, three times the lifting-power of ordinary hydrogen. Nor is that all: it is absolutely non-inflammable."
"By Jove!" ejaculated Dacres, too surprised to say anything else.
"Yes," continued his companion. "You may well express astonishment. Just think: nine-tenths of the dangers to which an airship is exposed are by this stupendous discovery. Thanks to the practical non-porosity of the ballonettes of the 'Meteor' we have not yet found it necessary to recharge them. We are, however, laying in a reserve supply of ultra-hydrogen and storing it under pressure in cast-steel cylinders."
"Then, what happens when you want to descend?" asked Dacres. "Has not the gas to be released?"
"No, otherwise we should have to continually rely upon our reserve of ultra-hydrogen. It is six weeks since the 'Meteor' made her first flight, by the by."
"Then, how do you manage to husband the supply of gas in the ballonettes?"
"There are no less than a hundred of these sub-divisions. Each consists of two skins, the outer one of rigid aluminium, the inner of flexible non-porous fabric. When we wish to descend—apart from the action of the horizontal planes—the ultra-hydrogen is exhausted from the required number of ballonettes and forced under great pressure into steel cylinders similar to those you see here. Air at the normal atmospheric pressure is then introduced into the ballonettes until the weight of the airship is slightly heavier than air.
"These men you see working here also form part of the crew of the 'Meteor.' In due course I shall muster them and give them proper notice of your appointment as navigating officer to the vessel. I might mention, however, that every one of them has seen service in the Royal Navy. They are all trained men, who, under the rotten short service system, have been cast aside by the Admiralty when they might be of the best possible use."
"Aren't you afraid that some of them might betray your secret?"
Whittinghame laughed.
"No," he replied emphatically, "I am not. Many people imagine that nowadays there is not such a thing as honour. Government officials wonder why important secrets leak out. They threaten their employees with dire pains and penalties, instead of paying them decent wages and appealing to their sense of honour. I know that for a fact. My experience teaches me that so long as you pick your men carefully in the first instance, pay them adequately, and treat them considerately, they'll stick to you through thick and thin with unswerving loyalty. Now let us visit the workshops. There is not much to be seen, for all the constructive work is now completed, but you will be able to form some idea of how an airship of over one thousand feet in length was constructed in secret."
The next cellar was about fifty feet in length and twenty-five in breadth, and practically bare.
"This is our mould loft," explained Whittinghame. "Through dire necessity we were compelled to make the work in comparatively small sections. Each subdivision was assembled here before taken into the open air. I might add that the whole work of finally assembling the parts was done without the use of a hammer. Over thirty thousand bolts and nuts were used in setting up the completed craft. In the next room are the lathes and fitters' benches; beyond that are the electric rolls for making the aluminium sheets, and the hydraulic presses for moulding them into shape. But I do not think we need waste time there; suppose we devote our attention to an inspection of the 'Meteor'?"
WHITTINGHAME conducted his companion to the open air by a different route from that by which they had gained the subterranean workshops. It was a fairly broad way, of quite recent construction, and sloping gently for quite eighty yards and finishing, up by a steep incline.
Dacres found himself in the midst of a thick wood, an avenue the width of the passage terminating at the rear of a large shed. But instead of entering the building, Whittinghame broke away to the left by a narrow footpath, which by a circuitous route gained the open space where Dacres had obtained his first glimpse of the returning airship.
At first he was puzzled. There was the circular clearing with its closely-mown grass, but no signs of the five airship-sheds.
Pulling out a whistle Whittinghame gave two sharp blasts. This signal was almost immediately followed by the appearance of three men clad in dungaree suits.
"Open up No I. shed, Parsons," ordered the "Meteor's" owner, then turning to his companion he observed: "That's my chief engineer. He is absolutely part and parcel of the 'Meteor's' machinery. What he doesn't know about motors is hardly worth troubling about. Now watch."
The engineer and his two assistants disappeared behind a clump of trees. Then, even as Dacres looked, a number of lofty pines moved bodily sideways with regimental precision, disclosing the end of one of the sheds that he had seen overnight.
"We have to disguise our sheds as much as possible," said Whittinghame. "Those trees are dummies set in a base that travels on wheels on a pair of rails. They would defy detection unless anyone were warned as to their nature. The roof too, is covered with artificial tree-tops. An airman passing overhead would have no idea that there were five sheds each two hundred and forty feet in length, forty-five feet in height and forty in breadth hidden in this comparatively small wood. Now, this is the bow section of the 'Meteor.' A noble craft, I think you'll admit."
As soon as his eyes grew accustomed to the semi-gloom Dacres saw that the pointed bow was facing him, while on either side of the main fabric was a smaller cylinder open at each end.
"Those contain the propellers," explained his guide. "The airship has four cylinders with two propellers in each. The foremost propeller works at 1,200 revolutions per minute, and the backdraught is taken up by the rear propeller, which runs at twice that speed. The cylinders form a partial silencer, so that, except through an arc of about eleven degrees, its centre parallel to the major axis of the airship, the whirr of the blades is practically inaudible when at a height of two hundred or more feet above the ground. Do you notice those plates of metal lying against the outer envelope?"
"One above and one underneath the propeller covering?"
"Yes, those are the elevating planes and rudders, 'housed' for the time being to allow the craft to enter her shed. The motors are in the centre of the body, the propeller shafting being chain-driven." "What do you use—petrol?" asked Dacres.
Whittinghame shook his head.
"Too dangerous," he replied. "We use cordite."
"Eh?" ejaculated Dacres incredulously.
"Yes, cordite: the ideal fuel for internal combustion engines. You must be perfectly aware of the properties of cordite. In the open air and not under pressure it burns slowly; but under pressure its explosive capabilities are enormous. Our motors are actuated by introducing small charges of cordite into the cylinders and exploding them by electricity. The principle is similar to that of a maxim gun, only of course we don't use cartridges on a belt. The cylinder chamber itself acts as a cartridge case. Suppose we go aboard?"
Whittinghame indicated a wire rope-ladder running from a doorway about twenty feet from the ground.
"The whole of the underbody of the outer envelope is watertight," he remarked. "The 'Meteor' can float on the sea if necessary. Of course there are observation scuttles and bomb-dropping ports, but these can be hermetically sealed."
Agilely Dacres swarmed up the swinging ladder and passed through the doorway. He found himself in a room twenty feet square, and ten in height, with circular ports on one side and doors on the transverse bulkheads. In the floor were two rectangular openings furnished with plate-glass, but for the time being shuttered on the outside by closely-fitting slides.
"This is our forward bomb-dropping compartment," continued Whittinghame as he regained his companion. "The devices for that purpose are behind that partition. All the ammunition is stored in the 'midship or No. 3 section and transported along these rails as required. We also keep stores here, the idea being that should the various sections of the airship have to part company each will be self-supporting in a double sense.
"The next compartment for'ard contains the mechanism for actuating the vertical rudders. Above that are the motor-rooms, while right for'ard are the twin navigation-rooms. We'll have a look at the motor-rooms first of all. By the by, those are the cylinders for storing the ultra-hydrogen under pressure. At the present moment the dead weight of this section is less than fifty pounds."
"But we weigh more than that," observed Dacres.
"Quite so; but the buoyancy is automatically maintained. As you crossed the threshold of the doorway you stepped upon a plate resembling the floor of aweigh-bridge. At once a sufficient quantity of ultra-hydrogen is introduced into the ballonettes to counteract your weight, and, in fact, the weight of any person or article brought on board."
"I'm afraid I'm curious," said Dacres, "but what will happen when we go 'ashore'? Will the volume of the gas in the ballonettes be correspondingly reduced?"
"Yes, but not wholly automatically. You will have to record your weight on an indicator, and the adjustment then takes place. That dial you see on the bulkhead gives the total lifting power of the whole of the ballonettes. That instrument to the left makes the necessary compensating adjustments to the airship according to the temperature, altitude, and amount of moisture in the air."
In the starboard engine-room Dacres noticed that each of the two motors had four cylinders of comparatively small bore considering the horsepower developed.
"These are not air-cooled?" he asked pointing to the motors.
"No, water-cooled. This system serves a dual purpose, for the water circulates throughout all the cabins of the section, and if necessary through Nos. 2 and 3 section as well, thus affording a warmth that is appreciated when we are flying at a great altitude. Ten to twelve thousand feet is our favourite height, for then we can command a field of vision—provided the atmosphere is clear—of anything up to one hundred and twenty miles. Now for the upper navigation-room—your future post."
This compartment was situated under the commencement of the tapering portion of the envelope, its roof and walls being formed by the rounded surface of the outer skin. Here there were several observation panes, so that a fairly extensive view could be obtained. It was impossible, however, to see immediately below, and on this account the necessity of a second navigation-room was apparent.
It reminded Dacres strongly of the conning-tower of a battleship, except that the scuttles were much larger than the slits in the armoured walls of the latter. A standard compass, chart-table, gauges, indicator, voice-tubes, and telephones left very little space unoccupied.
Professional habit prompted Dacres to unfasten a sextant case and critically examine the instrument. "Can't say I altogether like this chap," he observed bluntly. "If you don't mind I'll use my own sextant. It's with the rest of my luggage at Fenchurch Street Station."
"We'll send for it, by all means," said Whittinghame. "I frankly admit that I'm not much use at fixing positions, and one sextant is very much like another to me. The difficulty of getting hold of a competent navigator worried me considerably until you trespassed upon my property. I'm jolly glad you did."
"And so am I," said Dacres cordially.
"Now you've seen practically everything of importance in the foremost section," continued his companion. "The rest of the available space is taken up with ballonettes. No. 2 section is devoted to crew space, stores, and of course more ballonettes. No. 3 contains the wireless-room, the ammunition and reserve of cordite for propelling purposes, in No. 4 the officers are berthed, while the aftermost, or No. 5, is practically identical with No. 1."
"But how are the various divisions kept in position?" asked Dacres.
"By means of double-cam action bolts. The 'Meteor' is of a semi-rigid type. Her great length would be a positive danger if she were otherwise, while she would be most awkward to manoeuvre. As it is we can turn her in a radius equal to twice her length. In violent air-currents she 'whips' considerably; it's a weird experience until you get accustomed to it, but therein lies another proof of safety. It is analogous to the case of a tall chimney that sways in a gale. If it didn't it would snap like a carrot.
"The upper surface of the envelope is flattened, and we have a promenade deck exactly one thousand feet in length. Of course it is only available when we are running at a greatly reduced speed or are brought up. At a very high rate of speed you would be unable to keep your feet and run a great risk of having the air forced out of your lungs."
"A most marvellous craft!" exclaimed Dacres enthusiastically. "How I shall enjoy a cruise in her!"
"I hope you will," added Whittinghame gravely.
"Are you making another trip before you take her to Portsmouth?"
"I think not. I do not believe in purposeless flights. Her final trials have been successfully passed, and now nothing remains to be done until she is required to perform some task for the well-being of the British nation."
As the two men prepared to descend the ladder Whittinghame suddenly remarked:—
"You'll meet the rest of the officers to-night, Dacres. Hambrough, our doctor, turns up at five. You'll like him, I think. He's a real good sort, and as keen as anything on the voyage. I don't suppose he'll have much to do, for these high altitudes are so beastly healthy; but there's no telling. He hasn't seen the 'Meteor' yet; in fact, he's only just resigned his post as medical officer to a North of England hospital. Setchell, who will be next in seniority to you, is at present on leave. We dropped him near his home at Plymouth about three weeks ago. He had urgent domestic affairs to demand his attention, and our wireless man here got in touch with us as we were passing over the Pennines. We made a rattling good run down to Plymouth—rattling good—but cut it rather fine in getting back here. I was almost afraid that we should be spotted, but luckily we descended without being detected. Setchell will also be here at about the same time. Callaghan will pick the pair of them up at Holmsley Station. By Jove! It's close on five already. How time flies when you're busy. We had better get back to the house."