"YES, we've had a narrow squeak," continued the Captain. "It's easy to reconstruct the case. Durango was either concealed in the woods or else hiding on board. More than likely he was stowed away somewhere on the airship, otherwise Callaghan and the other men ought to have spotted him."
"But they didn't see him leave," objected Dacres.
"Quite true. Conversely they didn't see him come on board; but that is a side issue. One thing is certain; he was aware of our presence. He must have been stalking us. Directly we left the cabin he crept in, knowing that there was a revolver and ammunition in his pocket. With these in his possession it would have been an easy matter for him to shoot the pair of us, as we were quite in ignorance of his being here; but fortunately, as far as we are concerned, I smashed the revolver and threw the pieces over the side."
"With this possibility in your mind?"
Whittinghame shook his head.
"Don't credit me with too much, my friend. I saw the look on your face when I deliberately destroyed a particularly neat little weapon. Had it been of the same calibre as ours I would have kept it. As it wasn't, I put it out of the way of others who might make use of it against our interests. Anyhow, Durango was foiled on that count. He then remembers that he had documents of importance in those coat-pockets, so he hurriedly turns them inside out. In the midst of the search he hears you coming along the alley-way, and being without a weapon and afraid to tackle you on equal terms, makes a hurried retreat. The door slams, and your suspicions are aroused."
"Perhaps he's still on board?" suggested Dacres.
"You heard him on deck."
"But there are other hatchways he could make use of besides going over the side."
"There are; we'll investigate. I'll tell Callaghan to send up half a dozen armed men, and then we'll search every nook and cranny."
The reinforcements were quick in responding to the call. First of all the woods in the immediate vicinity of the after-part of the "Libertad" were searched; men were posted to prevent anyone leaving the wreck without being seen, while the rest joined the two officers in exploring the still intact practical portion of the airship.
For an hour the search was kept up, but without result. Satisfied at length that none of the original crew remained on board, Whittinghame gave orders for the whole of the documents to be removed.
This done the fore-part was examined. Under the wreckage were found the bodies of eight men, all terribly mangled, but sufficiently recognizable for the searchers to decide that Reno Durango was not amongst them.
The cunning rogue, instead of fighting his ship from the navigation room for'ard, had delegated that duty to a subordinate, and had taken up his position in the after-part which, when the disaster occurred, had escaped the destruction meted out to the rest of the ill-fated "Libertad."
Upon returning to the crippled "Meteor" Whittinghame, assisted by Dr. Hambrough and Dacres, proceeded to examine the documents found in Durango's cabin. From the contents of the letters it was soon made evident that the rascal had already entered into negotiations with several of the Great Powers for the disposal of the plans of the British submarines.
The original specifications and constructional drawings of the airship—those that had been appropriated by the Valderian authorities when Gerald Whittinghame had been arrested—were found intact.
"That's good," ejaculated Whittinghame. "It was more than I dared hope. I expected to find tracings of the original plans, but these rascals have evidently thought it unnecessary to make duplicates. If they haven't—and judging by the state of these drawings I don't think they have—they will never be able to make another imitation of the 'Meteor.'"
"What do you propose to do with the wreck?" asked the doctor.
"We'll wait until the repairs to the 'Meteor' are complete and then, I think, we'll set fire to the trees around the 'Libertad.' I would do so earlier, but we must try, if possible, to prevent the alarm reaching Naocuanha."
"But surely Durango will make a dash for the capital?"
"I think not. The Valderians do not look favourably upon those leaders who have come to grief. He will, for a dead certainty, leave Zaypuru in the lurch, and try his luck elsewhere—unless we prevent him."
"And the submarine plans?" asked Dacres.
"I have not forgotten that point," replied Whittinghame; "since they are not here nor in the wreck of the 'Libertad' it can be reasonably surmised that Durango has them in his possession—unless he left them with a trustworthy agent in Pernambuco. From the documents we found on board we know that he had not got past the preliminary negotiations. My immediate plans are as follows, gentlemen; if you have any suggestions or objections to make I shall be pleased to hear them:—
"In the first place we must make the 'Meteor' fit to resume her flight. Then, on the principle of striking while the iron's hot, we must attempt the rescue of the British prisoners at Naocuanha. Whether we succeed or not we can then devote our attention to the capture of Señor Reno Durango. Under the most favourable conditions it will take him six weeks to reach the nearest railway station. He has to recross the Sierras and make a long journey across the Voyocama Desert. By that time we shall have either succeeded or failed in our enterprise in Valderia. By making inquiries of any of the few Indians who exist in the Voyocama Desert we shall be able to get upon Durango's trail and run him to earth."
"Perfectly straightforward, sir," observed Setchell.
"Unless anything should go wrong," added Whittinghame guardedly. "Now, having settled these points, suppose we make an examination of our own craft?"
It did not require much inspection from the Captain to decide that No. 4 section was useless for further service. It had borne the brunt of the "Libertad's" fire. Only one ballonette retained its supply of ultra-hydrogen. The others, pierced through and through, resembled gigantic colanders, being completely riddled by the small calibre shell. Since the "Libertad's" magazine was situated in the corresponding section her crew had come to the conclusion that the same state of affairs existed in the "Meteor," and had hoped by directing most of their fire upon No. 4 section to destroy utterly their antagonist by exploding her ammunition-room.
In the other sections the damage was comparatively slight. Wherever a ballonette was pierced the high velocity of the projectiles had made a clean circular hole. All that was required to be done—for the ultra-hydrogen had already been exhausted from the intact ballonettes and stored in the high-pressure cylinders—was to patch the silken inner envelopes, rivet aluminium plates on the outer plating and test each gas compartment by forcing air into it. Should an escape still exist the hissing of the compressed air would be a sure indication of the precise position of the leak.
Officers and men worked with desperate haste, yet without sacrificing efficiency. In order to guard against a surprise attack sentries were posted at some distance from the stranded "Meteor," while several of her quick-firing guns were unshipped and remounted in positions commanding the approach from the Valderian capital.
Nevertheless, had Durango and his surviving comrades been men of pluck and determination, they might have entirely prevented the work of repairing the "Meteor." Under cover of darkness it would have been a comparatively easy matter to fire the dry grass, and the destruction of the British airship would have been a foregone conclusion. But the Mexican was a man to run no great risk. As soon as he had secured certain property from his wrecked cabin he had resolutely set out towards the Brazilian frontier.
Being a born gambler he realized that as far as Naocuanha and Valderia were concerned his luck was out. He still had the means of recouping his losses, but he was too wily to tempt fate in the country that had already proved so disastrous to his projects. Whittinghame was perfectly correct in his surmise. The Mexican was already on his way to pastures which, if not new, could provide abundant sustenance for his cupidity and cunning.
The day passed without any signs of Valderian activity. The news of the disaster had not reached Naocuanha, and as the mountain pass was an unfrequented one there was little risk of detection from passing travellers.
At daybreak on the following morning work was renewed. The condemned section, stripped of everything of value that had escaped the hail of hostile shot, had been removed from the adjoining divisions. Most of the leaks had been stopped, and Whittinghame had good reasons for hoping that the air test could be applied that afternoon.
Just before noon one of the outposts signalled that three armed men were approaching, but whether they were alone or merely the advance guard of a force of Valderian troops he could not determine.
Whittinghame, Dacres and Setchell were quickly on the spot, where, sheltered behind a ridge of rocks, they could command the approach of the three strangers.
Bringing their glasses to bear the officers saw that the party consisted of an elderly man and two who might be anything between eighteen and twenty-five, even when taking into account the effect of the climate. Each had a rifle slung across his back and a short native knife, somewhat resembling the Mexican machete, in a sheath on the right hip.
They had naturally seen the several separated portions of the "Meteor" as well as the after-part of the wreck of the "Libertad," and had left the beaten track with the evident intention of making a closer inspection.
"Not much strategy shown there," observed Dacres. "They make no attempt to conceal themselves. Who and what are they, I wonder?"
"We'll soon find out," replied Whittinghame, and beckoning to six of the crew he ordered them to make a detour in order to cut off the strangers' retreat.
Nearer and nearer came the three men, chatting unrestrainedly and gesticulating excitedly. Whittinghame, who spoke Spanish with tolerable fluency, strained his ears to catch the drift of their conversation.
"Frenchmen, by Jove!" ejaculated Dacres.
"I think not," whispered his chief. "Now!"
Simultaneously the officers and several of the "Meteor's" crew sprang to their feet, while at the signal those in ambush stepped into the path which the strangers had traversed.
In spite of the odds against them the three men were not wanting in courage, although deficient in strategy.
They stopped, unslung their rifles, and having given their opponents ample opportunity to shoot them down had the Englishmen felt so inclined, they flopped down on the rocky path and took what cover they could behind the small boulders.
"Amigos!" shouted Whittinghame.
"Si, señor," replied the elder man, and without any hesitation he jumped up, spoke a few words to his companions, and then strode towards the spot where Whittinghame stood.
"Americanos?" he asked interrogatively.
Whittinghame shook his head.
"Inglese," he replied.
"Bien," rejoined the stranger, removing his hat and making a profound bow. "I am ver' pleased to speak with you, monsieur."
"You are a Frenchman, then?"
"Assuredly. I am called Antoine de la Fosse, I am an engineer of electricity. Gaston, Henri!" he shouted in his native tongue; "come here and make the acquaintance of these English airmen."
De la Fosse required but little "pumping." He seemed bursting with anxiety to explain his presence to Whittinghame and the rest of the officers.
He lived at Adiovonta, a small town about thirty miles from Naocuanha and nearly forty from the scene of the combat between the rival airships. He was on his way to San Carlos, where he had to inspect the electric-lighting apparatus of a newly opened copper-mine. Accompanied by his two sons and twenty Indian porters he was within ten miles of the mountain pass when he heard the dull detonations of the "Libertad's" guns. At first he did not know what to make of it, for he was in ignorance of the fact that hostilities had broken out between Great Britain and Valderia.
During his journey upon the succeeding day he made good use of a pair of binoculars, and at length spotted what appeared to be the wreckage of half a dozen airships. Leaving his men on the beaten track he set out with his two sons to investigate the scene of the disaster.
"So there is war between Great Britain and Valderia, eh? And the port of Zandovar is taken? Then I think I will not go to Naocuanha justà l'instant."
"Were you bound for the capital, then?" asked Dacres.
"As soon as I finish the work at San Carlos. I have to see the installation of the electric light at several of the buildings public—the Cathedral and the Cavarale, for example, but I think it will wait."
Whittinghame was too good a diplomat to come straight to the point and ask for direct information concerning the Cavarale—the prison where his brother and the British officers were confined. But the chance was too good to be thrown aside. He would put the question indirectly at a more opportune moment.
"Come and have lunch with us," he said courteously. "We cannot, unfortunately, offer you of the wines ofla belle France, but our stores are by no means exhausted. After we have lunched we will show you the airships, or rather ours and the remains of the Valderian one."
"The Valderian one?" replied de la Fosse incredulously. "I did not know that Valderia possessed an airship.Mais,perhaps it is well not to show too much interest in a country that is not ones own."
During the meal Whittinghame, who attended to his guests' wants with the utmost politeness, related the salient facts of the dispute between the two countries and the events leading up to the chase of Señor Reno Durango.
"Nom de Chien!" ejaculated de la Fosse excitedly, bringing his hand down violently upon the edge of his plate, and sending the contents into his lap. "Reno Durango! Is it possible?"
"A friend of yours, monsieur?" asked Whittinghame.
"He is no friend to me," retorted the indignant Frenchman. "I remember well his master, the pirate Karl von Harburg, who captured 'La Touraine' and stole fifty thousand francs from me. Again, Señor Durango—que le diable l'importe—did his best to kill me at Zandovar a little more than a year ago.Peste!I have no love for Señor Durango.Voyons, let me rejoice over the debris of his airship."
Accordingly Whittinghame, Dacres, and the doctor accompanied the Frenchman and his two sons to the scene of the disaster. De la Fosse, with a Frenchman's typical sagacity, took the greatest interest in all he saw, and asked innumerable questions, while his two sons joined vivaciously in the conversation.
Suddenly a sharp report, unlike that of a rifle, came from the direction of the "Meteor." The three officers exchanged glances.
"Something gone this time!" exclaimed Whittinghame.
Something had gone. One of the ballonettes in No. 3 section had burst under the pressure of the compressed air introduced for the purpose of testing its non-porosity. The explosion resulted in the partial wreckage of the wireless room. Until the damage could be made good the "Meteor" was practically cut off from intercourse with the outside world. Before the days of wireless, isolation counted for little, but once having enlisted the aid of the Italian wizard, Marconi, the exigencies of civilization could ill bear being deprived of this means of communication.
"Anyone hurt?" asked Whittinghame anxiously, as he and his companions arrived on the scene of the accident.
"No one, sir," replied Callaghan saluting.
"That's a blessing," said the Captain fervently. "One man down is one too many; we don't want any more casualties to our small crew. Now let us see the extent of the damage to the wireless room."
"Ciel!It is of little consequence to one who knows," replied de la Fosse, after a brief yet comprehensive examination. "I know not how you call this——"
"The magnetic detector, sir," volunteered Callaghan.
"Ah! the magnetic detector: it is out of—how you call it?—tune,ne c'est pas?The air-gap around the edge of this plate is destroyed. In two days the damage is made good."
"To anyone who understands the business," added Whittinghame.
"Oui, monsieur.Very well, then: I do you good turn. I will stop. Gaston will take my men to San José. Then in a few days I follow."
"It's awfully good of you, monsieur," said the Captain gratefully.
"Pouf!" ejaculated the Frenchman, throwing out his hands in a deprecatory gesture. "It is nothing. I will help you set it right."
This latest accident, coming on top of the previous misfortunes to the "Meteor," meant that the airship would not be ready to resume her flight for at least a week; and during a week history might be made in Valderia without Whittinghame and his companions being aware of what was going on.
Dacres got on excellent terms with Antoine de la Fosse and his son Henri, and before the end of the week he felt emboldened to tackle the Frenchmen on the subject of the Cavarale Prison.
"You seem very anxious to know all about the prison,mon ami," remarked the elder de la Fosse. "One would think that you would like to pay it a visit."
"That I should," replied Dacres. "Not as a prisoner, monsieur, but just to find my way about. You remember Mr. Whittinghame told you we were making an attempt to rescue some English prisoners there."
"And I showed you the plan of the Cavarale," said de la Fosse. "A plan like that to a man with ordinary intelligence is worth a hundred thousand books of direction."
"Quite true," assented Dacres. "But I have a strong desire to see what the prison is like. To put the matter bluntly, could you get me a pass to enter the Cavarale?"
The Frenchman did not reply for a few moments. "See you here," he exclaimed. "I would help you, for I like not the President Zaypuru. But it is too difficult. If they catch you, then you are shot as a spy, and I am arrested for assisting an Englishman to spy. You understand?"
"I quite see your point, monsieur," said Dacres. "You would be betraying the country which you have made your temporary home."
"You do not see the point, Monsieur Dacres," corrected the Frenchman. "It is not a question of betray: it is revenge. I have no cause to like the present government, for when Zaypuru made the insurrection his soldiers looted my house. I was then living close to Naocuanha. It is a long story and I will not now tell it you. But if I could I would help you."
He paused and puffed vigorously at his cigar. Dacres watched his face eagerly. De la Fosse was pondering the question over in his mind. Dacres let him think undisturbed. He realized that he had stirred the Frenchman's passions. He was brooding under a heavy grievance. De la Fosse, like many other Europeans, had good cause to hate President Zaypuru and all his works.
"I have a plan," exclaimed de la Fosse suddenly. "I tell you. Suppose I send Henri to inspect the Cavarale? It must be examined before I can start work with the electric light installation."
"Well?"
"Then Henri must have an assistant,bien entendu?Suppose you go as assistant to my son? I give your name on the pass as Monsieur——"
"As Monsieur le Plaisant," added Dacres, a thought flashing across his mind.
"You, then, know a Monsieur le Plaisant?" asked the Frenchman.
"Yes, I believe I do," replied Dacres grimly, with a lively recollection of his prank on the midshipmen on H.M.S "Repulse."
"Bien!Then I will inform Henri. Only, monsieur, if you are detected you will be shot."
"That I quite understand," replied Dacres coolly.
"If you are detected," continued de la Fosse, "I know that you are an English gentleman and will absolve Henri from blame."
"Of course," agreed Dacres. "I promise on my honour that if anything goes wrong—I don't think it will, by the by—I will make out that I deliberately deceived your son. He, of course, must be told to repudiate me, should the Valderians spot me."
"You are a good impersonator, Monsieur Dacres?"
"Fairly," replied Dacres modestly. "I bluffed a flagship's officers once, only——"
He pulled himself up. It was not desirable, on the eve of a similar episode, to proclaim the failure of the former attempt.
"Very well," agreed de la Fosse. "I will put the name of Monsieur le Plaisant on the pass, and Henri will show you the road to Naocuanha."
"LOOK here, Dacres, I won't have you running this risk," said Whittinghame when his subordinate unfolded his plan for investigating the place of captivity of Admiral Maynebrace and his compatriots in misfortune.
"There'll be no risk," replied Dacres. "That is, if I act with a reasonable amount of caution. Besides, I want to have another little game with old Maynebrace—bless his grey hair!"
Whittinghame shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. "How long do you reckon this mad freak of yours will take?" he asked.
"If we leave here at daybreak to-morrow we ought to be back at the end of the fifth day. It's only half a day's journey to La Paz railway station, so de la Fosse informs me. We'll have to hire a couple of Indians to carry our professional gear and clothing, so as to give more colour to the scheme. Henri could take some of his father's men, only they might start talking about the stranded airships and give rise to suspicions."
"Honestly I don't like your scheme, Dacres, but since you think it's feasible and its results will be beneficial to our proposed operations I suppose I mustn't raise any more objections."
Henri de la Fosse entered into the project with the greatest eagerness. He, too, had cause to hate the present Valderian government like poison.
Had it not been for Zaypuru and Durango, the Frenchman and his two sons would have been able to attain their desires and return to their native country long ago. The revolution had practically ruined de la Fosse. His accumulated earnings had been fraudulently appropriated. He was almost without sufficient means to pay his passage back to Marseilles. He had, therefore, been obliged to remain in Valderia, working desperately at his profession in the hope of being able, to some extent, to retrieve his lost fortune.
When Whittinghame requested Antoine de la Fosse to name a sum for repairing the wireless gear the little Frenchman waxed indignant. He would take nothing, he replied proudly. It was a pleasurable task to be able to assist the Englishmen in their effort against Zaypuru and Durango.
Whittinghame was equally indignant. Finally the matter was compromised. Should Dacres' adventure prove a success, and should the "Meteor" contrive to rescue the prisoners from the Cavarale, de la Fosse was to put forward a claim on the British Government, and Whittinghame would back it up for all he was worth.
Antoine de la Fosse realized that he was making a great sacrifice in allowing his son to go to Naocuanha. Had it not been for the fact that he himself was the only one capable of effecting the delicate repairs to the wireless gear he would have insisted on being Dacres' companion. But having Dacres' assurance that in the event of detection the Englishman would accept all responsibility his doubts were set aside.
"Are you disguising yourself?" asked Whittinghame, for his comrade was turning out the contents of a small portmanteau in which the extraordinary "get up" he had worn on board the flagship was conspicuous.
"No," replied Dacres. "At least, not with false moustaches or whiskers. It would be too risky: the things might come adrift while I was fooling about pretending to take measurements."
"But we must take certain possibilities into the question," continued Whittinghame. "Suppose, for instance, Durango has, in spite of our surmises to the contrary, returned to Naocuanha?"
"Hardly likely," replied Dacres. "Had he done so we should have had a crowd of Valderian soldiers buzzing about before this."
The eventful morning came round. Antoine de la Fosse was to go with Dacres and Henri as far as the place where the mules had been left in charge of an Indian servant.
"By the by," remarked Whittinghame casually. "You haven't forgotten a rule. You must have one if you have to take measurements, you know."
"I'll get one," said Dacres, and presently he returned with a two-foot rule in his hand.
"If it weren't a very serious matter, Dacres, I'd simply roar with laughter," declared the Captain of the "Meteor." "I asked you simply to see what you'd do, and you've simply given the whole show away. Imagine a supposed Frenchman taking measurements in a country where the metric system is in force and using a British two-foot rule."
Dacres flushed under his tanned features.
"By Jove! I must be more careful."
"You must, not only on your account but for the sake of your companion. It's a good thing de la Fosse didn't see what you were up to."
Amid the hearty good wishes and farewells of the "Meteor's" officers and men Dacres and Henri, attired in sombreros, loose grey shirts, buckskin trousers, and native shoes fitted with formidable-looking spurs, set out on their hazardous enterprise.
Soon Dacres found himself in the high-peaked saddle of a mule. Although fairly docile as mules go, this animal required a considerable amount of skill on the part of the rider. Like most sailors Dacres rode awkwardly, hanging on more by good luck than good management, the performance causing the high-spirited Henri no end of amusement, especially when the inapt rider was slung out into the dust no less than three times during the first half hour.
"Pardon me, monsieur, I cannot help it," said young de la Fosse apologetically, although tears of laughter were trickling down his face.
"Neither can I," replied Dacres as he picked himself up and essayed to clamber into the awkward saddle.
"But if you ride thus into La Paz the Valderians will have suspicions," resumed Henri doubtfully. "In Valderia everyone rides superbly."
"I'll manage the brute all right long before we get to La Paz," declared Dacres stoutly. "Gee up, you rascal!"
Evidently the Valderian mule strongly objected to being urged on in English, for his hind-quarters suddenly reared. Dacres found himself rising in the air. Clearing the pommel by a few inches he alighted on the animal's crupper, whence he cannoned off into a particularly prickly clump of cacti.
Leaping from his saddle Henri handed the reins to his companion, then devoting his attention to the refractory mule he made it trot round and round in a small circle until the youth was almost ready to drop with sheer giddiness. This treatment also proved most subduing to the mule, for from that time Dacres had no further trouble.
The road to La Paz was with few exceptions mostly down hill. In places it wound round forbidding spurs of the mountains, where a false step would send animal and rider into the almost fathomless depths below.
So narrow was the track that Dacres wondered what would happen if they met persons coming in the opposite direction.
"That is easily managed," replied Henri when his companion expressed his doubts. "We would dismount. The other travellers would do likewise. We speak with them; they speak with us. There is no hurry in these parts. Then the mules going that way would crouch down, and the mules coming this way would step over them. It is so simple when one knows how."
"Thanks, I would rather not have any," remarked Dacres, and later on he reiterated his thanks when he found himself once more in open country.
Feeling so stiff that he could scarcely dismount Dacres arrived at La Paz. The mules were handed over to the care of a most villainous-looking innkeeper, and their baggage given to four miserable-looking Indians, who for a few centavos could be engaged to act as servants.
While waiting for the train to start—it would be a fortunate event if it left the station within an hour of the supposed time—Henri, who spoke Spanish excellently, made several judicious inquiries of the men who were loafing about—for leaning against the adobe walls and smoking huge cigars seemed the total occupation of the visible inhabitants of La Paz.
When at length the train started on its journey to the capital, young de la Fosse had an opportunity of communicating to his companion the news he had gathered from the loungers at the station.
If it were true the situation looked very grave. There were reports that a battle had been fought outside the town of Zandovar between the gallant Valderians and the invaders. The British had been compelled to retreat to their ships, leaving over five hundred men prisoners in the hands of the victors. More, two English battleships had been sunk by mines, and the rest had stood out to sea.
Dacres simply roared. The rumours were so utterly unlikely.
"It may be true," said Henri gravely. "The best generalled armies make the mistake at times. The Italians at Adowah, the Russians in Manchuria, and the English in South Africa,par exemple."
"Then, if it is true we'll find the Cavarale chock-a-block with British prisoners," said Dacres. "So we'll wait and see."
When, after a slow and irksome journey, the train entered Naocuanha station, Dacres and his companion were pounced upon and questioned by half a dozen gaudily-uniformed officials. Their pass had to be examined, signed and countersigned by men who could hardly write their names, their baggage being searched, and even the contents of their pockets scrutinized. Dacres realized that had he attempted to don artificial hair and whiskers as a disguise he would have been detected before he left the platform.
At length the ordeal was passed, and escorted by four soldiers the two "electrical experts" made their way to an hotel.
The city of Naocuanha was under martial law. There were troops—for the most part ill-clad, ill-armed, and badly disciplined—everywhere. Most of the shops were shut, and had their windows boarded up. In several places barricades had been thrown across the streets and machine guns placed in position. The steam-cars and public vehicles had either been kept in their sheds or pressed into military service. Everywhere notices were posted up, warning the civil population to be in their houses by sunset under pain of fine and imprisonment.
"This doesn't look like a British reverse," thought Dacres. "The whole crowd of them are in a mortal funk. That's quite evident."
Acting on his companion's advice Dacres feigned a bad headache on their arrival at the hotel and promptly went to bed. Until Henri felt fairly certain that none of the guests—who, fortunately, were few in number—understood French it was advisable for the pseudo-electrician to keep to himself.
All night long bugles were blaring and drums beating. The garrison of Naocuanha were evidently expecting an attack from the British forces in possession of Zandovar. Consequently Dacres spent a restless night, while the swarms of mosquitos that found their way in through the rents in the mosquito curtains of his bed added to his discomfort.
Next morning, after Henri had paid a compulsory visit to the commandante's office, the two men, with their Indian servants, set out for the Cavarale.
The prison stood about two miles from the city. It occupied an isolated position, being on a broad grassy plain. The building was of rectangular formation with squat square towers at the four corners. It was surrounded at a distance of twenty feet from the main walls by a mud and rubble wall surmounted by achevaux de frise.
In the centre of this outer enclosure on the city side was a gateway with an adobe hut close by; but this entrance was apparently neglected, for the gate stood wide open, and no one seemed to be on guard.
In the intervening space ran a dry ditch crossed by a broad wooden bridge leading to the inner gateway.
This was a more imposing affair, the stone archway being surmounted by the arms of the republic. The door was of very massive wood and pierced by a wicket. On either side were loopholes so that the approach could be commanded by rifle fire if necessary; while above each of the four towers grinned the barrels of an old type of machine gun of the Nordenfeldt pattern.
Pacing up and down the parapet or else lolling in the shade of the towers were several sentries, each with the inevitable cigar or cigarette in his mouth. They eyed the approaching strangers with apparent unconcern, making no attempt to challenge them.
Directly Henri pulled the bell the wicket was opened and a serjeant gruffly demanded to know the business of the two strangers.
In reply young de la Fosse pulled out the pass and presented it. The fellow took the document, pretended to read it while holding it upside down, and calling to a soldier who happened to be standing close by, bade him hand the pass to the serjeant of the guard.
Apparently, this non-commissioned officer could make no more of it than did his subordinate; but, throwing aside his cigar, he leisurely strolled off to the quarters of the commandante of the prison.
Half an hour later the Frenchman and the pseudo compatriot were permitted to enter. An empty store was allotted for the reception of their belongings, and the Indians were told to remain there until wanted.
"You remain also," said Henri in a low voice to Dacres. "I have to see the commandante."
Presently Henri returned with a bundle of papers, showing the general plan of the prison on a large scale, and the various parts that it was proposed to fit with electric lighting apparatus.
To show undue energy would arouse suspicion, so the two electricians spent quite an hour in ostentatiously examining the documents before proceeding with the actual work of "measuring up."
Then, having offered a cigarette to the soldier told off to attend on them, Henri and Dacres made their way to thepatioor courtyard in the centre of the quadrangle.
While busy with the tape Dacres kept his eyes wide open. Evidently three sides of the building were intended for the prisoners' quarters, for they were lighted by small square windows heavily barred and at a height of twenty feet from the ground. The remaining side was in the occupation of the troops who formed the joint rôle of garrison and jailers, while in one corner of thepatioand farthest remote from the entrance was a stone building in which the commandante of the prison lived. It was two-storyed, with a flat roof, from which a light gangway communicated with the flats of the quarters surrounding the quadrangle. A covered way also led from the commandante's residence to the guard room.
"The commandante says that he is busy to-day and does not wish to be disturbed by having men to measure the rooms of his house," said Henri, "so that will be much better for us. We can go sooner to the quarters of the prisoners."
"Very good," assented Dacres.
They conversed in English, since Dacres was a precious bad French scholar. There was no need to do otherwise since de la Fosse, by a simple, seemingly aimless question to the soldier who accompanied them, found out that he understood no language but his own.
Having finished their ostentatious work in thepatio, Henri tapped the plan he held in his hand and pointed significantly towards the prison-buildings.
The soldier shrugged his shoulders indifferently, then slouched towards the door. In response to a knock the door was opened by a fierce-looking mulatto who, apparently satisfied that the two foreigners were properly escorted, passed them in without further ado.
The prison was two-storyed. The cells on the ground floor were not lighted from without, and were constructed for the reception of common criminals. Recently these occupants had been transferreden blocto the civil prison in Naocuanha, and consequently they were now unoccupied. The political and foreign prisoners were distributed in cells on the upper story, to the number of nearly a hundred. Of these nine were Englishmen, including the two who were arrested before the outbreak of hostilities, and whose detention formed one of the principal causes of the rupture between Great Britain and the republic of Valderia. In addition to the nine were partisans of the late President San Bonetta who, having escaped the extreme measures adopted by the ferocious Diego Zaypuru, were still in rigorous confinement and in constant fear of being summoned to execution.
Fearing to cause suspicions by asking where the British prisoners were lodged, Dacres and his companion had to take each cell in order, measuring the distance from the centre of the corridor, and the height of the position of the proposed lamp. To hurry over the task would raise doubts in the officials' minds as to thebona fidesof the avowed electricians. Thus the short working-day ended without Dacres having an opportunity of entering into communication with any of his former brother-officers.
On the following day the prospect looked brighter, since there was no needless delay in thepatio.Don Alonzo da Costa, the commandante, was still indisposed to allow the electricians to enter his quarters, so, thankfully, Dacres and his companion resumed their tedious tour of the cells.
At length the jailer unlocked the door of a cell situated in the north-east angle of the building, and the two engineers solemnly filed into the room.
It was slightly larger than the others, but sparely furnished, the latter consisting of a plain deal table and chair, and an iron cot-frame, on the foot of which were two rolled blankets and a thin straw mattress.
As the men entered a stentorian voice exclaimed,
"Bless my soul, Dacres, what on earth are you doing here?"
The speaker was his late chief, Rear-Admiral Maynebrace.
"STEADY, sir," remonstrated Dacres, addressing the Admiral and at the same time turning his head away as if consulting with his colleague. "This won't do; you'll spoil the whole show."
"Surely, Mr. Dacres, you haven't signed on with these——"
Admiral Maynebrace's remarks were cut short by the soldier bringing the butt of his rifle down upon the stone floor with a resounding clang and causing the astonished old officer to skip more agilely than he had done for years past.
"That's excellent," exclaimed Henri addressing the sentry in Spanish. "Keep the rascally prisoner in his place. We do not want to be hindered in our work."
"Sit down, sir, and pray be calm," continued Dacres, still talking as if he were referring to the task of measuring the walls. "Don't pay any outward attention and listen. (Twenty-five centimetres from that cornice, Henri: have you got that down?) We hope to bring the airship 'Meteor' to your rescue in a few days, sir, so be prepared. Turn in all standing, if you can, for we may have to hurry you up. (Do you think that will be far enough from the wall for the position of the switch, Henri? Good!) I can't expect you to answer any questions, sir. It isn't pleasant to be prodded on the toes by the butt-end of a rifle. Yes, sir, I am once more impersonating a Frenchman. Let us hope with more success than on the last occasion. Then I was literally slung out of the Service; now, by a similar means, I hope to get you slung out of here. (You think so, Henri? Suppose we carry the wiring down in this direction?)"
Dacres paused in his monologue, partly to allay any signs of curiosity on the part of the soldier and partly to enjoy his little joke with his one time superior officer. It wasn't every day in the week that an ex-sub-lieutenant could talk like a Dutch uncle to an admiral on the Active List. The idea of heaping coals of fire on Maynebrace's head commended itself to the pseudo-Frenchman, and he made good use of the opportunity.
"I am indeed sorry that you cannot express in words your gratitude for what we are doing for you, sir," he continued. "I know the feeling under which one labours when a man has to listen to a sermon without being able to put his spoke in the wheel (unwind the tape a little, please, Henri.Merci, bien). However, we will not dwell on that point. We hope at about six bells in the middle watch on the first convenient night to pay a surprise visit to the Cavarale. We may have to use explosives, so, sir, pray do not be unduly alarmed. (That is right, Henri, six metres will be quite sufficient.)"
Dacres methodically paced the cell, motioning the Valderian sentry to stand aside so as not to impede his work. The fellow, impressed by the zeal of the "electrician," stepped back without a murmur or gesture of remonstrance.
"If in the meantime you can get into communication with the rest of your staff, sir," continued Dacres, "perhaps you will mention what I have told you in case we have to pack up before our professional work is completed. That being so, Messieurs Henri de la Fosse and Jean le Plaisant—you may have heard that name before—must bid you their adieux."
Admiral Maynebrace stood his unaccustomed gruelling like a man. He knew quite well what Dacres was driving at. He was generous enough to admit that his former subordinate was to a certain extent justified in "pulling his leg." Moreover, he admired the cool audacity of the ex-naval officer in risking his life by entering the Cavarale prison.
"Hang it all!" he soliloquized. "I was much too hard on the young rascal. We all make mistakes. It was a mistake on my part that landed me in this hole. The Service lost a promising officer when Dacres sent in his papers. If ever I get clear of Naocuanha I'll do my very best to make things right for him."
With this praiseworthy resolution Rear-Admiral Maynebrace sank back in his chair to endure the dreadful monotony of his cell, for the only diversion he had was to make a systematic onslaught upon the swarm of insects that pestered him with their lively attentions.
While the Valderian soldier was securing the door of the Admiral's cell Dacres took particular notice of the lock. It was not morticed into the woodwork but simply screwed on from the outside. A fairly heavy hammer and a cold chisel would, he reflected, soon make short work of the lock on the door of No. 19, for that was the official designation of Rear-Admiral Maynebrace's substitute for the cabin of H.M.S. "Repulse."
The next cell was empty, but prudence compelled the two "electrical engineers" to spend a few minutes in taking bogus measurements. The adjoining one was occupied by a bearded man whom Dacres rightly surmised to be Gerald Whittinghame. There was a strong facial and bodily resemblance between him and the Captain of the "Meteor."
Still pursuing his quasi-professional tactics Dacres explained who and what his visitors really were, and at the same time cautioning the prisoner to act with discretion and not to speak a word in reply. Acting implicitly on these instructions Gerald Whittinghame assumed a despondent air, burying his hand on his arm as if completely indifferent to the presence of the three men.
But, presently, in the lull in his monologue Dacres' quick ear detected a systematic tapping made by the prisoner's fingers upon the deal table. He was replying in Morse.
"Carry on, I understand," said Dacres who, rule in hand, was fumbling on his knees in one corner of the cell, while Henri was taking down the measurements in his notebook.
"Tell Vaughan to attempt rescue before Friday," rapped out the message. "Zaypuru is coming here. Wants me to be a traitor to my country, or——"
The message broke off abruptly. Of the ominous nature of the incompleted part there could be no doubt.
"I say, Henri," said Dacres. "There's precious little time to be lost. I vote we make some excuse to leave Naocuanha to-night. Cut and run for it, if necessary."
"We will try," agreed young de la Fosse. "I understand."
"We'll do our best," said Dacres for Gerald Whittinghame's information. "So stand by, say, on Thursday night, if it can possibly be managed."
When the second day's work was accomplished the two "electricians" left the Cavarale, and followed by their Indian servants set their faces towards Naocuanha.
"We must clear out," said Dacres decisively.
"How?" asked Henri. "To go before we have finished there will arouse suspicions. We shall be seen when we enter the train."
"There are more ways than one of boarding a train."
"But the peons—the Indian servants?"
Dacres whistled.
"We mustn't leave them in the lurch, by Jove!" he said. "If it comes to leaving our hotel unpaid I think the exigencies of the business will be sufficient excuse; but I don't relish the idea of those fellows left to the mercies of Zaypuru and company."
"It is not that," replied de la Fosse. "They would come to no harm. They would as easily serve one master as another; but they would betray my father."
"If that is the only objection I don't see that that matters in the slightest," observed Dacres. "After this it will not be safe for your father or any of your family to remain in Valderia while Zaypuru is in power. Whittinghame will see you all safely through and send you back to France with a guarantee of sufficient money to keep you in comfort for the rest of your days."
"Very good: I am content," replied the young Frenchman simply.
"Then send the Indians on to the town," continued Dacres. "We'll take a stroll. I've a wish to see what the approaches to Naocuanha are like on the eastern side."
"Not in that direction," expostulated his companion. "It is towards Fort Volador, and if we go towards it we shall probably be arrested as spies."
"Very well, we'll bear away to the right," said Dacres reassuringly. "It doesn't so very much matter."
Henri dismissed the Indians and proceeded with the Englishman in the direction the latter had indicated. Young de la Fosse did not at all relish the new phase of the adventure. To run the risk of being captured he was willing to enter the Cavarale, but outside the prison a bid for freedom seemed fraught with more peril than he had bargained for.
Less than half a mile from the road to the prison ran the Naocuanha and La Paz railway, the course diverging slightly from that of the highway. Although the country around the capital was generally level at this spot, there was a slight valley, through which the Rio del Sol made its way to join the waters of the Pacific.
The railway, consisting of a single track, crossed the river by means of a steel girder bridge, while on the Naocuanha side of the valley was a siding.
As Dacres and his companions approached the bridge a goods train rumbled out of the city, panted heavily up the slight incline, and came to a stand-still on the siding. There were two locomotives attached to the train, one at either end, but upon pulling up there, no attempt was made to detach one of the engines.
"Look here," said Dacres. "We'll nick that rear-engine."
"What do you mean?" asked Henri dubiously. "What do you mean by nick?"
"Take possession of it. We have our revolvers. We'll terrify the driver and the fireman and make them disconnect the engine and push off towards La Paz."
"But the train from La Paz will be on its way," objected de la Fosse.
"I know; but we can wait till that goes by and then have a shot at it. We'll do it all right, never fear."
There was something so utterly confident in Dacres' tone that the young Frenchman's objections vanished.
"Very good," he replied. "I am ready."
As the two adventurers drew nearer the nature of the goods train became apparent. The twenty odd trucks were loaded with blasting powder, and were escorted by a dozen armed men.
It occurred to Dacres that it was rather an unusual thing to be taking explosives away from the seat of hostilities, until he realized that in anticipation of a siege of the capital Zaypuru thought it would be wiser and safer to send the blasting powder out of the city. It was a case of straws showing which way the wind blew. The president was beginning to fear for the safety of Naocuanha.
Henri's face lengthened when he saw the armed party, but having once signified his intention of going through the business, the plucky little Frenchman was not one to back out.
The display of force was more than Dacres bargained for, but knowing the temperament of the Valderians he felt convinced that on the sudden approach of two determined men the dozen irregulars would in all probability bolt like frightened hares.
However, he felt mightily relieved when the escort clambered down from the train and made their way down to the brink of the river, where, stripping off their raw hide shoes and canvas gaiters they paddled about in the water.
"Don't hurry, My festive friends!" exclaimed Dacres. "Take your time, and you'll do us a favour."
It was certainly a daring move on Dacres' part, for the plain was almost without cover, and the two men were in full view of anyone on Fort Volador or Fort Banquo who happened to be using a telescope or binoculars.
Nor was it advisable to attempt to take cover. The only feasible plan was to saunter towards the train and make a sudden rush at the last twenty yards.
Presently a dull rumble announced the approach of the La Paz and Naocuanha "express."
Dacres was half afraid that the escort hearing the noise of the on-coming train would hasten back to their charge, but fortunately the South American habit of procrastination was as deeply rooted in these Valderian irregulars as it could possibly be. An hour or two made very little difference to them: "to-morrow" was their creed.
With a rattle and a roar the train crossed the bridge, passed the siding and began to slow down as it approached the terminus of Naocuanha.
The time for action had arrived.
"Take it easily," cautioned Dacres. "Keep your hands away from your pockets till we make a dash for it."
Calmly lighting cigarettes the Englishman and his companion ambled towards the engine at the rear of the goods train. The driver was leaning out of his hooded cab, with the inevitable cigar in his mouth. The fireman had descended and was leisurely awaiting the approach of the two strangers.
His apathy quickly changed to an attitude of consternation as he found himself looking down the muzzle of Henri's revolver. His knees shook and almost automatically he raised both arms to their fullest extent over his head.
With a quick, deft motion de la Fosse plucked the revolver from the fireman's holster and threw it far into the thick grass, and, still keeping the man well covered, sternly ordered him to uncouple the engine.
Meanwhile, the driver made an attempt to draw a pistol, but Dacres was too quick for him. There was an ominous glitter in the Englishman's eye that told the Valderian engineer the uselessness of offering resistance. The next moment Dacres swung himself into the cab and clapped the muzzle of his weapon behind the ear of the terrified man.
Hidden by the brink of the declivity the escort was in total ignorance of what was going on. Their first intimation that something was wrong was a warning whistle from the foremost locomotive as the captured engine began to back away from the rest of the train.
"I hope to goodness that the other chap doesn't leave the siding," muttered Dacres, "or our retreat will be cut off."
Fortunately the driver of the first engine contented himself with giving the alarm. Had he backed on to the main line the Englishman's fears would have been realized.
In thirty seconds the captured engine ran over the points. Hearing the noise the pointswoman—a half-caste—came out of the hut and looked suspiciously at the crowded cab of the engine.
A sharp order from Henri was sufficient. The driver, thoroughly cowed, shouted to the woman to shift the points, and with the coupled wheels racing furiously the engine gathered speed in the direction of La Paz.
The race for freedom had begun.