"CUT the telephone wires, Callaghan," ordered Dacres.
"Beg pardon, sir," expostulated that worthy.
"Well?"
"Might I make so bold as to suggest, sir?"
"Carry on, then," replied Dacres, who from previous experience knew that the Irishman's suggestions were well worth taking into consideration.
"Suppose those chaps at Naocuanha telephone to the prison and get no reply, they'll find out that there's something up. I think, sir, it would be best to let the wire alone, and station a chap there to answer all inquiries and complaints, in a manner o' speaking."
"Quite so; but who will be able to do so?" objected his superior officer. "You're the only man amongst us who has any knowledge of Spanish, and with all due respect to your capabilities, Callaghan, I think they would spot your brogue."
"Yes, sir; but how about the Valderian chaps imprisoned here—the fellows old Zaypuru's got his knife into? They'd do the business with the greatest of pleasure."
"Good idea," assented Dacres. "But before we release the prisoners we must secure the commandante. Meanwhile, Callaghan, you might post two men at the door of the orderly-room in case there's a call, or if there are any of the garrison who have escaped our notice."
Silently the quarters occupied by Commandante Don Alonzo da Costa were surrounded. Then, having severed the telephone wire communicating with the orderly-room, Dacres knocked at the door.
After considerable delay the door was opened by a military servant, who was promptly knocked down and secured.
Don Alonzo was a widower and lived alone in the official residence except for the company of two servants. Owing to his refusal to let the pseudo-"electricians" enter his quarters, Dacres was not well acquainted with the interior. Three empty rooms were examined before the raiders came to the one in which the commandante was fast asleep. The door was locked.
Dacres knocked. A voice replied in Spanish demanding to know what was amiss?
Not trusting himself to reply the Englishman knocked again. He could hear the occupant getting out of bed. Then the jalousies across one of the windows were opened and a pistol shot rang out.
Don Alonzo, finding himself summoned in an unorthodox manner, had suspected that something was amiss. Going to the window he saw the section of the airship in the courtyard. Partly with the idea of giving the alarm and partly with the idea of damaging the ballonettes he fired almost point blank at the huge target.
"Lie down, men," ordered Dacres, then clapping his revolver to the door he blew away the stout lock. Before he could push open the shattered woodwork five shots in rapid succession whistled along the corridor. Had Dacres or any of his companions been standing they would have been in the direct line of fire.
The commandante had emptied his revolver. Before he could reload he was pounced upon, disarmed, and secured.
Meanwhile, the noise of the firing had reached the ears of the prisoners. The British ones, having been warned of what was taking place, maintained silence, but the Valderian political prisoners, thinking that either a mutiny or a counter revolution had broken out, shouted, cheered, and kicked up a terrific din.
Leaving a man to keep guard over the governor Dacres led the rest of his command to the prisoners' quarters. The captives had been left for the night, the authorities taking it for granted that there would be no use for any military warders. Since the keys could not be found, and Don Alonzo stubbornly refused to answer any questions put to him by Callaghan, the doors of the cells had to be broken open.
"Knock off this lock for me," ordered Dacres, pointing to the one on the door of No. 19—that tenanted by his former Admiral.
A telling blow with a sledge-hammer wielded by a former armourer's mate of the Royal Navy, sent the metal-work clattering on the stone floor of the corridor.
"Come aboard, sir!" said Dacres, saluting. Rear-Admiral Maynebrace did a thing he had never done before. He grasped the hand of his former subordinate and wrung it heartily. He tried to speak, but his emotion prevented him from uttering a single word.
"Smith," said Dacres, addressing one of his men. "Escort Admiral Maynebrace to No. 5 section. Place him safely on board and return. Now, lads," he continued, "we'll have the British prisoners out before we release the Valderian ones. We can't take them with us; they must shift for themselves. One moment: open this door."
The cell Dacres had indicated was tenanted by a Valderian general who had been a partisan of the ill-fated President San Bonetta.
Upon the situation being explained to him by Callaghan the Valderian readily agreed to take command of the rest of his fellow-prisoners. Going from cell to cell and addressing the inmates through the grille, he quickly obtained some semblance of order. The shouts and cheers died down, and the luckless Valderians, who for months past had been in hourly dread of death, assented to obey whatever orders their rescuers might give.
"Thanks, Mr. Dacres," said Gerald Whittinghame, when he was let out of his place of confinement. "I hardly know how to express my gratitude. President Zaypuru will, I hope, be disappointed in the morning."
"I trust it won't be the only disappointment," rejoined Dacres. "But there is little time to be lost. If you will go on board the section of the 'Meteor' will be with you presently."
Meanwhile, two more Valderians had been released and ordered to remain by the telephone in the orderly-room. Should any message come through they were to give a reassuring reply, and lead the authorities at the capital to believe that all was in order at the Cavarale. They were then told that as soon as the section of the airship rose clear of the prison, they were to open the doors of the remaining cells and take whatever steps they thought best for their own safety.
As soon as the nine Englishmen were released the order was given to return to the airship. As soon as the crew were on board, the two cables were slipped and additional ultra-hydrogen pumped into the ballonettes.
No. 5 section refused to rise.
"That's that rascal of a commandante," declared Dacres. "Up aloft, there, and report damage."
Armed with an electric torch one of the crew ascended the aluminium ladder between the double rows of ballonettes and gained a longitudinal gangway from whence it was possible to examine each individual gas subdivision. It was not long before he returned.
"Four badly holed, sir. All of them on the starboard side."
"Which ones?"
"B2, 3, 4, and 5, sir. They are quite flabby."
"Very good. Close the valves of the supply pipes to these ballonettes and charge the others to their fullest capacity."
Promptly this order was carried out. No. 5 section no longer stuck stubbornly to the ground: she was lively, with a tendency to list to starboard; but still the upward force of the ultra-hydrogen was insufficient to raise her.
Just then a vicious blast of wind whistled over the walls of the Cavarale, causing the airship to rock violently. The night, hitherto calm, was rapidly becoming stormy.
Ordering the crew to fall in, Dacres addressed them.
"My lads," he said, "we're in a bit of a hole. Owing to the damage done to some of the ballonnettes No. 5 section is incapable of lifting the additional weight. Some of us must remain. We may be rescued by the 'Meteor'—we may not. Owing to the rising wind, the odds are against us."
He paused. Taking advantage of the lull several of the men stated their willingness to remain.
"What's this, Dacres?" asked the Admiral. "You clear out and leave us. You've done all that is humanly possible, and if you fall into the hands of Zaypuru it will go hard with you. He won't dare to go to extreme measures with us."
"I don't know so much about that, sir," replied Dacres. "In any case, please let me remind you that I am in charge of these operations.
"Now, lads, I mean to stop. When we are discovered the forts will no doubt try to shell us to pieces, unless"—then raising his voice he added—"unless we contrive to capture President Zaypuru and hold him as a hostage. Now, my lads, who will remain with me?"
"NOT all of you," remonstrated Dacres, although well pleased at the devotion of the men under his immediate orders. "Seven will be sufficient. That will lighten No. 5 section enough to give it proper buoyancy. Callaghan, you will take charge of the section until it is rejoined to the rest of the airship. Explain matters to Captain Whittinghame and say that we will sit tight so long as we can. Ask him to take the 'Meteor' out of sight of Naocuanha till ten this morning. If then it is advisable for him to return, a blue and white flag will be hoisted from the flagstaff of the Cavarale."
"One moment, Dacres," interposed Gerald Whittinghame. "I am ready to abide by your decision, but couldn't I render some assistance by remaining with you? My knowledge of Spanish, for instance? If you are to lure Zaypuru into the Cavarale you'll have to be very wary."
"I quite agree," replied Dacres, "but at the same time I think you ought to rejoin your brother."
"It's not a question of ties of relationship," objected Gerald. "It's a question of duty. That idea of yours, Dacres—if it comes off—will be a means of bringing the war to an end. With Zaypuru in our hands the resistance of the Valderian troops will crumble like a pack of cards."
"Very well, then," agreed Dacres. "We shall be very glad of your assistance. We'll discuss the plans later."
"I say, Dacres," persisted the Admiral's flag-lieutenant, "I mean to stay——"
"I'll put you under close arrest if you don't obey orders," retorted Dacres with well-assumed severity.
"Landing-party, fall in!" he ordered.
The seven men quickly descended and fell in upon the courtyard. Dacres bade the released prisoners farewell, gave a few necessary orders to the trustworthy Callaghan, and followed Gerald Whittinghame down the ladder.
"All clear!" he shouted.
Once more the ultra-hydrogen was forced into the reserve ballonettes. Carried sideways by the wind No. 5 section rose, cleared the wall by less than six feet, and shot upwards at a rapid pace till lost to sight in the darkness. Her movements, however, had been followed by the anxious Captain of the "Meteor," and without delay he started to get in touch with the tail portion of the Dreadnought of the Air.
By the time the "Meteor" coupled on her No. 5 section the airship had drifted twelve miles to leeward of Naocuanha.
"That hare-brained rascal!" exclaimed Vaughan Whittinghame, when he received the Irishman's report. "I suppose he'll scrape through all right—he generally does. In any case, it's a piece of sterling work; self-sacrifice of the highest order."
"Can you land us at Zandovar?" asked Rear-Admiral Maynebrace.
"Sorry," replied Whittinghame. "Not by night. I've no fancy to be plugged by the shells of your squadron or mistaken for a hostile aircraft. After ten o'clock to-morrow I may—if I haven't to avenge Dacres and my brother." Acting under Gerald Whittinghame's instructions General Galento—for that was the name of the Valderian who had been entrusted to maintain order amongst the released prisoners—ordered his compatriots to assemble in thepatio.
This they did, to the number of eighty. As far as Valderians went these men looked capable of giving a good account of themselves. They were all actuated by feelings of revenge towards their former captors and especially President Zaypuru. Had they got out of hand the lives of the soldiers who had formed the garrison of the Cavarale would not have been worth a moment's purchase. Without delay Gerald Whittinghame addressed them. His almost perfect knowledge of Spanish, the fluency of his words and his commanding delivery all told upon his listeners.
"Friends of the late President San Bonetta," he exclaimed. "The time is at hand when you will be able to completely turn the tables on your oppressors. To do so you must implicitly obey the orders of the Commandante Dacres here, whose mouthpiece I am. The Cavarale is entirely in our possession. Don Alonzo da Costa is a prisoner, together with every man of the garrison. At nine o'clock this morning the villainous Zaypuru will pay us a visit."
Shouts of execration burst from the lips of his listeners. Cries of "Death to the President!" "Down with Zaypuru!" were heard on all sides. At length Gerald silenced them by raising his right hand.
"Zaypuru must be captured," he continued. "It can be done. How, I will explain; but before so doing I must have your promise that if he fall into our hands he will be treated in a manner worthy of civilized people."
"We will have him shot," muttered a Valderian, and several voices backed him up.
"Very well," rejoined Whittinghame. "If that is what you are resolved to do you had better go outside the prison and do it. Remember that your only chance of safety lies in remaining here. Without, you will be seen and pursued by Zaypuru's horsemen. Detachments of his troops are at La Paz, so that your retreat in that direction is cut off. Rather than allow a prisoner in our hands to be barbarously murdered the Commandante Dacres will release and arm the soldiers who are now in his power. Think it over quickly, and let me know your decision."
The partisans of the late president saw that the Englishmen held the whip-hand. Great as was the hatred of the former for Zaypuru, the fear of what might happen should the aid of Dacres and his companions be withdrawn was greater.
"We agree," they announced. "We swear it."
"It is well," continued Gerald. "Now for our plans. When your English friends surprised the garrison many of the soldiers were in their beds. They were sent into one of the cellars under the barracks, their clothes and accoutrements remain. Thirty of you will, therefore, put on these men's uniforms, and by forming a guard of honour and placing sentries on the walls will completely deceive the President Zaypuru. General Galento will oblige us by arraying himself in the uniform of the Commandante Alonzo da Costa and acting the part of our late custodian-in-chief, until Zaypuru is safely landed in the trap."
"And what then, señor?" asked one of the Valderians.
"Be content with that, señor," replied Gerald. "With Zaypuru in our power the rest will be easy. Your lives and liberties will be assured. Now, remember, success depends upon your discretion and implicit obedience of Señor Dacres' orders. We have yet five hours before us: hasten and make ready."
Away trooped the Valderians, filled with hope and resolution, to don the uniforms of their former captors, while General Galento, accompanied by two of the crew of the "Meteor," made his way to the commandante's quarters to deck himself out, without asking the owner's permission, in the gorgeous regimentals of the luckless Don Alonzo da Costa.
At sunrise the new garrison was under arms. The men, having breakfasted, were ready for any duty that Dacres called upon them to perform.
There were no signs of the "Meteor." Acting upon Dacres' request to his chief the airship had put a safe distance between herself and the capital. The wind had fallen, the sky was cloudless and unbroken. Had the "Meteor" remained she would have inevitably been sighted by the garrison of Naocuanha and Zaypuru's suspicions would have been aroused.
Just before eight a telephone message was received at the Cavarale stating that the president would arrive half an hour earlier than he had previously arranged.
His object in visiting Gerald Whittinghame was a crafty one. He knew the value of the captive Englishman's technical skill; he totally underestimated his sense of honour. Reno Durango having, from some cause for the present unknown, failed him, Zaypuru bethought himself of Gerald Whittinghame.
His plan was to offer the Englishman his liberty and a huge sum of money if he would take charge of the aerial defences of the city of Naocuanha. He remembered that under President San Bonetta's regime Gerald Whittinghame had brought out an aerial torpedo—a monoplane carrying a heavy charge of guncotton—which could be electrically controlled by an operator on the ground. The device passed the severe tests imposed upon it with the greatest ease. Then came the revolution that caused San Bonetta to lose his life and Gerald Whittinghame his liberty. The knowledge, unlike that which resulted in the construction of the "Libertad," remained with the inventors, and hitherto threats and promises alike had failed to extort the priceless secret.
"Troops on the move, sir," announced one of "Meteor's" crew who had been posted to supplement the Valderian sentries on the wall of the Cavarale.
Dacres and Gerald ascended as quickly as possible, then taking cover behind the breastwork, used their binoculars through one of the embrasures. "That's Zaypuru's bodyguard right enough," said Vaughan's brother. "He doesn't go far without that escort."
"Quite enough to set up a fairly good fight if they've any pluck," remarked Dacres. "I don't think we ought to let the whole party into the courtyard."
"Yet I don't see how we can prevent them without arousing suspicion."
"I do," said Dacres. "You've forgotten the bridge across the dry moat. We'll fix a detonator, sufficient to bring the whole concern down without doing very much harm to the President's bodyguard. We'll have to hurry, for there's precious little time."
"But we haven't a battery," objected Gerald.
"No, but we have plenty of rifles. Smith, bring a couple of sticks of guncotton from the magazine."
Putting on a coat andképibelonging to one of the former garrison Dacres issued from the gateway, descended into the moat and lashed the explosive to one of the props of the wooden bridge. To the one nearest to it he fixed a loaded rifle, taking care to lock the safety bolt while he made fast a thin but strong wire to the trigger. This wire he led back to one of the narrow loopholes by the side of the gate, giving one of his men instructions to release the trigger the moment he heard the bugle give the "Alarm."
Rapidly the president and his escort approached the Cavarale. They were all splendidly mounted, while many of them were distinguishable as generals by their gorgeous uniforms. Like most revolutionary armies of the South and Central American republics staff officers were numerically out of all proportion to the size of the army.
Half a dozen troopers armed with carbines led the procession. Immediately behind them, and supported by two generals, rode the president.
Zaypuru was a little man, with iron-grey hair and moustachios. He rode very erect with his arms thrown well back, but Dacres noticed that one shoulder was slightly higher than the other. His features were sharp and pointed, his eyes close-set, while his eye-brows, slanting upwards from the bridge of his nose, gave him a saturnine expression in keeping with his character.
An arrant coward at heart he, like most men of tyrannical nature, took a delight in inflicting pain upon those who, having thwarted him, had fallen into his power. Blindly he regarded himself as being essential to the welfare of Valderia, and counting on the support of the men he had gathered around him, he was as insensible to danger as the proverbial ostrich hiding its head in the sand. It was only by relying upon others that he had any confidence in his official capacity. Reno Durango's disaffection had hit him hard. Had it not been for his successful coup in capturing Admiral Maynebrace and his staff, he would have fled from Naocuanha and sought an asylum in one of the neighbouring republics when the "Libertad" failed to return. Puffed up with success he was riding hot-shod towards ruin.
Behind the president rode a lieutenant bearing the national flag of Valderia with an eagle emblazoned in silver upon the centre horizontal stripe. This was the presidential standard of the head of the republic.
The cavalcade concluded with about forty officers and men in nearly equal numbers.
As Zaypuru and his retinue approached the outer wall General Galento ordered the general salute to be sounded. The great gate of the inner wall was thrown open and a guard of honour, composed of twenty men in the borrowed uniforms of the imprisoned garrison, presented arms.
Greatly to Dacres' delight the president gave orders for the bulk of his escort to wait beyond the dry moat. Attended only by ten of his staff Zaypuru trotted his steed across the wooden bridge, stiffly acknowledged the compliment paid by the guard, and cantered into thepatio.
Dacres, still out of sight of the president, raised his hand. A sharp detonation was followed by the crash of shattered woodwork, as the bridge collapsed into the dry moat. Simultaneously the guard closed the gateway.
President Diego Zaypuru was trapped.
THE noise of the explosion and the clang of the gate caused Zaypuru to rein in his horse and give a hasty glance over his shoulder. Then, still unsuspicious, he advanced towards the officer he took to be the commandante, Alonzo da Costa, till shouts of "Treason" from his men outside the gates gave warning that something was amiss.
With a snarl of rage Zaypuru drew his horse almost on its haunches and tugging violently at the reins caused the animal to swerve. In so doing it came into violent contact with the animal ridden by one of his staff. Both chargers reared, and had their riders been anything but expert horsemen they would have been dismounted. Forcing his way between his attendants Zaypuru made for the gate, to find his progress barred by a line of glistening bayonets.
"Surrender, Zaypuru!" shouted General Galento in stentorian tones. "We will spare your life."
Two members of the president's staff alone showed any determined resistance. Drawing their revolvers and using their sharp rowelled spurs unmercifully they rode straight towards the impersonator of Don Alonzo da Costa.
Before they had covered half that distance an irregular volley of musketry burst from the men supporting General Galento. The two horses, riddled with bullets, dropped to the ground, rolled completely over and then lay feebly kicking in their death agonies. Their riders, fortunately thrown clear, were too dazed to offer further resistance to the men, who left the ranks and seized them.
"Surrender, Zaypuru!" repeated Galento.
"Is my life guaranteed?" asked the president, who was trembling like a leaf.
"You will not die a violent death at our hands," replied the general urbanely.
"You mean to murder me," howled the wretched man.
"I would have you shot by a platoon with the greatest pleasure, I assure you," remarked Galento with well-assumed indifference. "Unfortunately, as far as my inclination is concerned, I have given a promise to the English commandante of the Cavarale."
"They are referring to you, Dacres," said Gerald Whittinghame, who, unseen by the president and his followers, had followed the whole of the conversation. "There is no further need for concealment. That rascal Zaypuru will surrender to you."
Although Zaypuru had not hesitated to treat his British captives with indignity, he had a certain amount of respect for the word of an Englishman. Directly Dacres crossed over to where Galento was standing, the President got down from his horse, and unbuckling his sword, tendered it to the Englishman.
Just then a rattle of musketry was heard without. Those of the President's escort who had been left on the remote side of the dry ditch had taken cover behind the outer wall and were firing at the Valderians who held the roof of the prison. The latter briskly replied, and the exchange of shots was rapidly maintained.
"Where are you, Whittinghame?" shouted Dacres. "Tell some of these men to take the prisoner to the Commandante's quarters. I'll have to direct operations against those fellows who are kicking up a dust outside."
Directly Gerald Whittinghame appeared on the scene Zaypuru's terrors returned. The sight of the man whom he had treated with uncalled for severity filled him with the most abject fright. He fell on his knees, and, upraising his clasped hands, implored his former captive to have pity.
"Get up, and don't make a fool of yourself," exclaimed Gerald sternly. "You won't be hurt unless you give trouble."
"I never meant to do you an injury, señor," persisted Zaypuru; "it was my adviser Durango who urged it."
"The less you say about it the better," interrupted Whittinghame. "I want to hear no excuses. Party!" he ordered, addressing a file of men. "Escort the prisoner to the Commandante's quarters."
Trembling like a leaf the President was taken away and lodged in the same room as his henchman, Alonzo da Costa, while the rest of his men who had followed him into thepatiosurrendered at discretion.
Meanwhile, Dacres was directing the fire of the defenders. Although the aim of the Valderians on both sides was erratic, several of the bullets whistled unpleasantly close. The President's escort, fearing to retire, since in their retreat they would be fully exposed to the fire of the garrison, stuck tenaciously to the cover afforded by the outer wall, hoping that additional troops would be sent from Naocuanha to their support.
"Man that machine gun," ordered Dacres to those of the crew of the "Meteor" who had remained with him.
The ammunition was soon forthcoming, and a hail of small projectiles directed upon the adobe wall. This was more than the enemy could swallow, and a white flag soon appeared above the crumbling outer wall.
Keeping the defenders well under control, Gerald Whittinghame shouted to the President's men that they were at liberty to retire to the capital. For some moments there was no indication of this offer being accepted. At length, one or two plucked up courage to make a dash towards Naocuanha, and finding that they were not fired upon the rest of the escort promptly took to their heels, amid the jeers of the released prisoners.
Dacres looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past nine.
"Nearly an hour to wait," he remarked as Gerald Whittinghame came up. "If Zaypuru hadn't been so inconsiderate as to arrive an hour earlier he might have saved us some trouble."
"What do you mean?" asked Gerald.
"Unless I am very much mistaken Fort Volador will be opening fire on us."
"With Zaypuru in our hands?"
"That won't count with them, I fancy," said Dacres, as he bent the blue and white flag to the halliards in readiness for hoisting at the approach of the "Meteor."
Just then General Galento hurried up.
"Señor Whittinghame," said he, "a message has just been sent by telephone from Fort Volador. The men belonging to Zaypuru's escort whom you allowed to go without hindrance have reported the situation. The Commandante of the fort has called upon us to surrender at discretion, otherwise he will bombard the Cavarale."
"Then let him," replied Whittinghame. "That is, if he wants to murder his President. As a matter of fact I don't believe there are guns mounted on Fort Volador that are capable of doing much damage. All the heavy ordnance have been taken to the Zandovar side of the city."
"Then how shall I answer, señor?"
"Tell him to go to Jericho," replied Whittinghame, shrugging his shoulders.
"That's the way to talk to these gentry," remarked Dacres when Gerald told him of the conversation. "Treat the matter lightly and it will give our Valderian allies confidence. Ha! There's the first shot."
With a peculiar, throbbing screech a twelve-pounder shell flew handsomely over the Cavarale, bursting quite eight hundred yards beyond the building.
"Bad shot!" ejaculated Dacres coolly. "All the same I think we will withdraw our men from the wall. Order them to lie down as far apart as possible. I'll be with you in a moment."
Deliberately hoisting the blue and white flag Dacres took a final survey of the horizon. Seeing no sign of the Dreadnought of the Air he descended to thepatio.
Another shell screeched overhead, missing the parapet of the furthermost wall by a bare five feet. Fort Volador's gunners were getting the correct range, yet the rate of firing was painfully slow.
The third shot struck that part of the prison in which the British officers had been incarcerated. With a crash that shook the place the missile burst, blowing a gap in the outer and inner walls large enough for a horse and cart to pass.
"Señor," exclaimed a Valderian breathlessly, "Zaypuru has asked me to be allowed to speak with the Commandante of Fort Volador. He says he will order the battery to cease fire."
"It will be useless," replied Whittinghame.
"It is surely worth trying," urged General Galento, who was beginning to show signs of "jumpiness."
"Very good," assented Gerald. "You might accompany Zaypuru to the orderly-room, General, and repeat to me what he says."
Catching up his long sword, Galento, still resplendent in his borrowed plumes, ran across thepatio, his movements hastened by a shell that struck the ground within ten yards of him—happily without bursting.
He found Zaypuru ashen with fear. Both Valderians, their enmity vanishing before a common danger, hurried to the orderly-room.
With trembling fingers the President lifted the receiver, and held it to his ear.
"Is that Commandante Vilano?" he asked. "It is I, Diego Zaypuru, your President. My life is in danger from the fire of the fort. I order you to desist immediately."
He waited to listen to a jeering reply.
"I order you. I beg of you," he continued.
Galento, equally agitated, anxiously watched the face of his former persecutor.
With a gesture of despair the President threw the receiver against the wall, where it struck with disastrous results to the instrument; then burying his face in his hands he burst into tears.
"Is there no place where I can hide in safety?" he whined. In his utter selfishness he gave no thought to the members of his staff, who were in an equally hazardous predicament.
Ten minutes later Gerald Whittinghame, finding that General Galento had not returned, took two of the "Meteor's" men to look for him. The orderly-room was empty.
A muffled groan from the adjoining barrack-room attracted his attention.
Lying side by side on the bare floor and covered by a heap of straw mattresses were the President of Valderia and General Galento.
"White-livered rascals; fear, like adversity, makes strange bedfellows," he exclaimed contemptuously.
By this time the shells from Fort Volador were coming quicker and with better aim. Already the front of the Cavarale facing Naocuanha was little better than a heap of ruins, but the debris formed such an effective breastwork that Dacres ordered the garrison to take shelter behind it. The two angle-towers had disappeared, tearing away heaps of brick and stone and leaving a mound twenty feet in height. Their destruction had resulted in the removal of the recognized signal to the "Meteor" that all was well.
Even Dacres began to be anxious, although he kept his doubts to himself. The fact of being under fire without being able to return an effective shot told heavily upon the Valderian members of the garrison. He began to consider the possibilities of a retirement.
"Getting pretty hot," he said to Gerald Whittinghame.
"Yes; three men down with that last shell," replied Vaughan's brother, flicking some dust from his coat. "That makes sixteen, I believe."
"Any of the 'Meteor's' men?"
"No, thank heavens! unless one or two of them have received slight hurts. They are splendid fellows. How goes the time? My watch was stolen before I was brought here as a prisoner."
"Nine minutes to ten," replied Dacres.
"Hurrah, there she is!" shouted one of the "Meteor's" men at that moment.
Flying high and at her greatest speed the huge airship was approaching from the direction of the Sierras.
Heedless of the risk he ran, one of the British defenders of the Cavarale dashed across the heap of brickwork and recovered the blue and white flag. The bunting was torn, the staff severed, but the daring fellow waved the remains of the flag above his head.
"Come down, Jones; they've seen us!" ordered Dacres.
Two minutes later the "Meteor" passed immediately overhead and at an elevation of ten thousand feet. She made no attempt to descend.
"By Jove! I have it!" ejaculated Gerald Whittinghame. "She's going to settle with Fort Volador."
The garrison of the Valderian fort saw the danger. Their fire upon the Cavarale ceased. An attempt was made to train the quick-firers upon the airship, but the weapons were not on suitable mountings.
Panic seized the artillerymen. Abandoning the fort they fled pell-mell towards Naocuanha.
The "Meteor's" motors stopped. Rapidly she lost way, bringing up immediately above the doomed fort.
Through his binoculars Dacres observed a small black object drop from the airship. Sixty-five seconds later, having fallen vertically through a distance of nearly three thousand five hundred yards, the bomb struck the ground.
The aim was superb. Alighting fairly in the centre of the deserted fort it exploded. A burst of lurid flame was followed by a dense cloud of yellow smoke, mingled with fragments of earth, stones and bricks. The missile of destruction, powerful enough in itself to knock the defences of the fort out of action, had caused the main magazine to explode. When the smoke dispersed sufficiently for the observers on the ruins of the Cavarale to see what had taken place, Fort Volador was no more.
Apparently content with this act of vengeance the "Meteor," gliding vertically downwards, flew slowly over the four-square mass of rubble that marked the position of the state prison of the Republic of Valderia.
"All right, below there?" came a hail from the "Meteor."
"All right, sir," replied Dacres. "We've close on fifty Valderians we found in the cells. We must stand by them."
"Quite right," replied Vaughan Whittinghame. "What have you done with the Commandante and the rest of the garrison?"
"Safe in the underground cellars, sir."
"You might detain the Commandante as a hostage."
"We've a better hostage than the Commandante."
"Who, then?"
"President Zaypuru is a prisoner of war."
"SEND him on board, by all means," said the Captain of the "Meteor," after the rousing cheer from her crew that greeted the announcement had died away. "We'll lower a rope and whip him on board in a jiffey. You might then hold your position for ten hours more. I don't suppose the Valderians will risk another assault during that interval. We are about to take Admiral Maynebrace and his staff back to his flagship. Zaypuru will go too. He will be a strong argument in favour of the Valderians asking for terms."
"I doubt it, sir," replied Dacres grimly. "Those fellows in Fort Volador ignored his request to cease firing."
"We'll see," rejoined Vaughan Whittinghame.
"Hulloa, there, Gerald, old boy! How goes it?"
This was the Captain of the "Meteor's" greeting to his brother, who for months past had been in danger of being put to death by an unscrupulous Dictator.
"See you later," was Gerald's equally unconcerned reply, although at heart the brothers were longing to shake each other by the hand. "We'll rout out old Zaypuru. He's buried himself under a regular mountain of bedding."
Still in paroxysms of terror the President of Valderia was removed from his place of concealment, while General Galento, in almost an equal state of fear, was allowed to remain in his uncomfortable position.
At the sight of the "Meteor," anchored barely fifty feet above the shattered walls of the Cavarale, with a rope dangling from one of the entry ports, Zaypuru fell on his knees, begging for mercy. The noosed rope had a terrible significance.
"We do not ill-treat our prisoners of war, señor," said Gerald Whittinghame. "Circumstances necessitate your removal from this dangerous locality to a safer sphere."
But before the President could be ignominiously seated in the bight of the rope a warning shout came from Setchell, who was on duty in the after-section.
"Look out, sir!" he hailed; "there are half a dozen aeroplanes bearing down upon us."
"Cast off, there!" ordered Vaughan Whittinghame calmly.
The "Meteor" soared skywards, although not so swiftly as was her wont. The heavy drain upon her store of ultra-hydrogen was beginning to make itself felt.
Dacres watched her receding bulk with envious eyes. He would have given much to have formed one of the band of aerial warriors; but duty compelled him to remain, an eager spectator of the forthcoming encounter, on the position he had held so doggedly against the guns of Fort Volador. Setchell had made a mistake in stating the number of the hostile aircraft to be half a dozen. There were five of the latest type of Valderian aeroplanes, each capable of rendering a good account of itself, had they been properly handled.
Hoping to take advantage of the great airship being close to the ground, the airmen left Naocuanha, and, flying fairly low, made a wide detour so as to approach from a direction whence danger was least expected.
Seeing the "Meteor" rise, they too tilted their elevating planes, and in a semi-circular formation rushed at top speed upon this surprised foe.
Suddenly the airship's propellers began to run at full speed. She did not belie her name as she shot forward, firing from her after-guns as she did so.
The aeroplanes replying with their comparatively feeble automatic guns, were completely outdistanced, till the "Meteor," slowing down, lured them on.
Before the Valderian mosquitoes could approach within range the airship was off again, till she was almost out of sight of the watchers on the Cavarale. Dacres understood her tactics. Vaughan Whittinghame wanted to entice the biplanes away from the vicinity of the Cavarale, whose garrison would otherwise be at the mercy of the aviators. On the other hand, he dared not risk an attack at an effective range, owing to the fact that, in addition to Rear-Admiral Maynebrace and his staff, the "Meteor" carried Antoine de la Fosse and his son, and also the two men from the British merchant vessel whose arrest by Zaypuru had been the commencement of the dispute.
Presently the "Meteor" was observed to be returning towards Naocuanha, the five aeroplanes hanging on in pursuit. When within a mile of the Cavarale she rose to an additional height of two thousand feet. The biplanes, fearing to be annihilated by an aerial bomb, swerved right and left. Doubling like a hare the airship proved conclusively that her turning powers were, in spite of her length and bulk, superior to those of the Valderian aircraft, but owing to her speed and the smallness of the swiftly-moving targets, she made no palpable hits with her two stern-chasers.
So intent were the garrison of the Cavarale in watching this aerial steeplechase that it was not until a loud droning almost above their heads told them that other aircraft were approaching.
"Take cover as best you may!" ordered Gerald to the Valderian allies.
"Steady on, old man," suddenly exclaimed Dacres. "I think—yes, I am certain—they are British seaplanes."
"I suppose you know," admitted Whittinghame. "But how will they know we are not the enemy? Personally, I've a strong objection to being blown sky-high by a British seaplane."
"We must risk it. I'll hail. Perhaps they might hear, although the noise of the propeller—Hulloa! They're swerving."
Paying no attention to the remains of the Cavarale with its occupants who wore the Valderian uniform, the air-squadron tore to the rescue of their Admiral.
The Captain of the "Meteor" had informed the flagship of the situation by wireless, and Captain Staggers, who, by virtue of his seniority, had hoisted the Commodore's Broad Pennant on board the "Royal Oak" during Rear-Admiral Maynebrace's enforced absence, had dispatched six of the seaplanes attached to the fleet to tackle the enemy's air-fleet.
Giving the high-angle firing-guns of the defences of Naocuanha a wide berth, the seaplanes made short work of the distance between Zandovar and the scene of the manoeuvres of the "Meteor" and her attackers.
Now, for the first time in the history of the world, was to be a pitched battle between aircraft heavier than the medium in which they soared. It was to be a fight to the finish: there could be no question of surrendering or of giving quarter.
Yet the British Flying Squadron was not one to take an undue advantage. The aeroplanes, intent upon the "Meteor," were unaware of the approach of their new foes; but the officers in command of the seaplanes waited till they were certain that their presence was observed by the Valderian airmen.
To escape by flight was impossible. The Valderian airmen, realizing that their only chance lay in vanquishing their opponents, turned and headed straight for the seaplanes. On both sides the automatic guns were sending out small but powerful shells as fast as the delicate and intricate mechanism could admit, yet ninety-nine per cent of the missiles failed to find a billet.
One of the British aircraft was the first to receive a knock-out blow. Hit fairly on the swiftly revolving cylinders it seemed to stop dead. Then, plunging vertically, it fell at a comparatively low rate of speed and with ever-widening circles through space till its descent was checked by crashing violently upon the ground.
Ten seconds later a Valderian biplane was literally pulverized by a shell that exploded in her petrol tank. Two more were quickly put out of action, while the fourth, seeing the hopelessness of the situation, vainly attempted a vol-plane.
With two of her antagonists like avenging angels following her steep downward glide, the biplane dropped to within a hundred feet of the ground without any apparent injury. Then, suddenly tilting beyond the angle of stability, she fell vertically. Under the joint action of gravity and the traction of her propeller her rate at the moment of impact could not have been far short of two hundred miles an hour.
It took all the skill at their pilots' command to save the two seaplanes from a similar fate. So intent had they been in the headlong pursuit that they temporarily lost all sense of caution.
The first seaplane succeeded in rising, but the second was not so fortunate. The sudden downward pressure on the planes as the frail craft changed her direction resulted in the carrying away of one of the tension wires. The right-hand plane collapsed like a limp rag, and the seaplane, tilting sideways, fell to the earth, her pilot getting off lightly with a few bruises, while almost by a miracle the observer escaped injury.
Only one Valderian biplane now remained. Her pilot, whether from sheer daring or whether he was incapable of realizing what he was about, headed straight for the nearest of his antagonists.
The British pilot, equally fascinated by the sight of the huge mechanical bird bearing straight towards him, held on his course. The slightest alteration to the elevating planes would have resulted in the seaplane flying either above or under her opponent; but inexplicably the naval pilot made no effort to avoid the collision.
With a crash that was plainly heard by the spell-bound crew of the "Meteor," both aeroplanes met, eight thousand feet above the ground.
The spectators saw both motors, thrown clear of the tangle of struts and canvas, drop almost side by side, followed by the mangled bodies of three of the victims. Then, slowly, the lighter debris began to fall, until, some of the spilt petrol catching fire, the wreckage blazing furiously like a funeral pyre, streamed earthwards, leaving behind it a trail of smoke resembling a gigantic memorial column to the slain.