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Title: The Flying Submarine
Author: Westerman, Percy Francis (1876-1959)
Date of first publication: 1912
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: Dean & Son, undated
Date first posted: 19 April 2011
Date last updated: 19 April 2011
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #774

This ebook was produced by Al Haines

The printed edition on which this ebook is based contained
a frontispiece which we were unable to include, since
its copyright status is unclear.






THE FLYING SUBMARINE


BY

PERCY F. WESTERMAN





DEAN & SON, LTD.

DEBRETT HOUSE, 41/43, LUDGATE HILL,

LONDON, E.C.4




MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN




CONTENTS


CHAPTER

      I. SUB-LIEUTENANT HOLMSBY HAS TO INVESTIGATE
     II. THE OUTRAGE ON THE HIGHWAY
    III. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
     IV. CHECKMATE
      V. THE SECOND NIGHT
     VI. THE THIRD NIGHT
    VII. DON MIGUEL O'ROURKE
   VIII. A MODERN MAGICIAN
     IX. THE "AMPHIBIAN"
      X. THE WONDERFUL NUTSHELL
     XI. HOLMSBY GAINS HIS POINT
    XII. THE "AMPHIBIAN" TO THE RESCUE
   XIII. AN EXCHANGE OF SHOTS
    XIV. DICK TRESILLIAN'S ESCAPE
     XV. THE TALPICAN AEROPLANES
    XVI. A SWOOP FROM THE SKY
   XVII. "WE HAVE STILL THE SUBMARINE"
  XVIII. DON MIGUEL TAKES THE FIELD
    XIX. THE VINDICATION OF THE PRESIDENT
     XX. TREACHERY IN THE AIR
    XXI. THE PRESIDENT'S CHOICE
   XXII. THE PERILS OF THE ABYSS
  XXIII. THE AIRSHIP THAT PASSED IN THE NIGHT
   XXIV. HOLMSBY'S RAID
    XXV. A TRAITOR'S DOOM
   XXVI. A BLOODLESS VICTORY
  XXVII. "I GIVE YOU ONE MINUTE TO DECIDE"
 XXVIII. DON MIGUEL'S REVENGE
   XXIX. HOLMSBY'S RETURN
    XXX. THE "AMPHIBIAN" HAULS DOWN HER ENSIGN




THE FLYING SUBMARINE




CHAPTER I

SUB-LIEUTENANT HOLMSBY HAS TO INVESTIGATE

"No, no, Wapping.  I don't think we need take action.  Hang it all,
man, what with all these tin-pot scares about foreign spies, we shall
be run off our feet."

"But don't you think this is something out of the ordinary?" asked
Captain Douglas Wapping, M.V.O., R.N., of his chief.

"Out of the ordinary?  Yes, quite--a letter written by a gimcrack
hare-brained pensioner, with the evident idea of gaining notoriety
prior to calling attention to some grievance real or imaginary.  I know
their game.  Who is this Lieutenant Haslar?"

"I've looked him up in the _Navy List_, sir.  Retired on pension.  He
was a ranker, promoted for meritorious service in the Bangwan River
affair."

"Oh yes, I remember the man.  Garrulous as an old washerwoman."

"But he states sufficient in the letter to justify investigation----"

"Well, well, Wapping, have your way then: you always do, somehow or
other.  Hang it, man, if I had your powers of persuasion I would have
received Flag rank long before I did."

That morning Rear-Admiral Pennington had received a letter from an
obscure Cornish fishing-hamlet, stating that the writer, Lieutenant
Haslar, R.N. (retired), had reason to believe that a mysterious
submarine, owned apparently by a foreign power, had been seen cruising
in the waters of St. Ives Bay, and that, moreover, a huge airship, that
must have its headquarters in the vicinity, was in the habit of making
nocturnal passages overland in the direction of Plymouth.

"Send one of the youngsters," continued the Chief Director.  "Have you
anyone in view?"

"There's Herne, sir, or Bircham, or----"

"How about Holmsby?"

"Well, sir----"

"What?"

"I'm afraid I cannot recommend him."

"Why not?"

"Personally I know little of him, but James has reported unfavourably
upon him more than once."

"A fig for James, Wapping.  You let that fellow lead you by the nose,
as I've told you before."

"You have, sir," admitted Rear-Admiral Pennington's subordinate humbly.

"As a matter of fact, I know something of young Holmsby.  A bit
high-spirited, perhaps, but after all, is that a failing?  Moreover, he
came here with an excellent report from the captain of the
_Tremendous_.  Send him in to me, and we'll give him his sailing
orders."

Accordingly a messenger was dispatched to summon Sub-Lieutenant
Reginald Holmsby to report himself in the chief's sanctum, and in a few
minutes the young officer was standing as straight as a dart in front
of his superiors.

Recently it had been the practice of the Admiralty to appoint junior
officers to the Naval Intelligence Department to assist the commanders
and marine captains who had hitherto comprised the combatant
_personnel_ of this branch at Whitehall.  It was purely an experiment,
but since these juniors could be entrusted with missions of minor
importance, and would gain experience to enable them to tackle more
intricate matters, the scheme bid fair to prove a success.

Sub-Lieutenant Reginald Holmsby was a fine active specimen of the
British naval officer.  Standing five feet eleven inches in his socks,
broad yet wiry in body, and with a powerful-looking face that betokened
courage and sagacity, he still retained an almost boyish expression in
his dark eyes.  At sea he had been popular with his messmates, ever
ready for a "lark" when ashore,--a propensity that more than once had
led him into trouble,--but at the same time he was devoted to his
profession and a hard worker.  Having passed his Greenwich exams with
"firsts" in seamanship, gunnery, and naval law, and "seconds" in
torpedo and other subjects, and having qualified for an interpreter in
Spanish and Italian, he had been appointed to the Naval Intelligence
Department at the comparatively early age of twenty.

"Ah, good-morning, Mr. Holmsby," exclaimed the admiral genially.  "I
believe you've been on leave for the last twenty-one days.  Let me see,
you were in Cornwall?"

"Yes, sir."

"What part?"

"The north coast."

"Oh."  The Chief Director raised his eyebrows slightly, then: "How did
you get there?"

"By motor-cycle, sir," replied the sub., wondering what on earth
possessed his superior to evince such an interest in his doings while
on leave.  Then, with a burst of confidence, he added, "And I had a
ripping time, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it," remarked Admiral Pennington brusquely.  "Did you
happen to come across a place called Pen--Pen (where's that letter,
Wapping?  Ah, thanks)--Penkerris?"

"Rather, sir.  Had a mishap to a sparking-plug and had to wait there
until the carrier brought me another from Redruth."

"What sort of place is it?"

"Usual type of Cornish fishing-village, sir.  A sort of a kind of a big
crack in the cliffs, with a few stone cottages and a little jetty,
sheltering perhaps half a dozen drifters or small fishing-craft.  When
it comes on to blow, you can't go in or you can't get out, because they
place huge pieces of timber across the mouth of the basin to check the
force of the breakers."

"Hardly the sort of port suitable for a destroyer, for example?  Is the
harbour tidal?"

"Yes, sir; dries, I should think, at three-quarters ebb."

"Well, Mr. Holmsby, you seem to have gathered a fair amount of
information concerning the place, as all officers should do.  So what
do you say to another visit to this out-of-the-way village?  Now read
this letter."

Holmsby took the missive and read it through carefully from beginning
to end, his face betraying the interest its contents afforded.

"Now this will give you the clue to what you will have to do,"
continued the Chief Director.  "To-day is Wednesday.  On Friday you
will proceed to Penkerris in the role of a tourist.  Contrive to make
the acquaintance of this Lieutenant Haslar, and, without letting him
know who you are, pump him concerning the cock-and-bull yarn about the
foreign submarine and airship.  You might also put a few casual
questions to the fishermen.  By the bye, where is the nearest
coastguard station?"

"At Polgwenyth, three miles from Penkerris, sir," replied Reginald
promptly.

"Good," exclaimed Pennington approvingly.  "Now I leave the matter
entirely in your hands.  Use your own discretion, and if there should
be any truth in this report, communicate with us by wire.  If, however,
you find that urgent action is necessary, get the aid of the
coastguards at Pol--what's its name.  Before you start, I'll give you
an order to that effect, signed by the officer commanding the division."

"Am I to proceed to Cornwall alone, sir?  I venture to suggest that
with a companion this business could be carried out more
efficiently----"

"How?" interrupted Admiral Pennington, in surprise.  "Pray explain."

"Tourists mostly go in pairs, at least," replied Reginald.  "Besides,
should it be necessary to explore the cliffs, I could dispense with the
aid of any of the inhabitants, who would become suspicious as to my
intentions."

"I'm afraid, sir, that cannot be managed," interposed Captain Wapping.
"We cannot spare anyone else at present."

"I did not mean that," continued the sub-lieutenant quietly.  "I've an
intimate friend--he holds a civil appointment at the Admiralty--who
knows this part of the coast thoroughly.  He would be only too glad to
come and bear a hand."

"But he cannot be sent officially," replied the Chief Director.
"Besides, is he to be trusted to share the secret?  It's risky, you
know."

"I can rely upon him absolutely," assented Holmsby, with conviction.
"However, sir, if you have any objection, I will proceed alone."

"No, no, Mr. Holmsby.  You can have a free hand.  Now you may go.  See
me to-morrow afternoon and the necessary papers will be ready for you.
In the meanwhile, should anything fresh transpire I'll send for you."

With that Reginald took his leave, but instead of returning to his room
he made his way to another part of the huge block of buildings that
gives shelter to the numerous and complex departments comprising the
Admiralty.

"Is Mr. Tresillian in?" he asked of a uniformed messenger.

"I'll see, sir," replied the man, who recognised his questioner.  "I
think he's in his room."

In a few moments the messenger returned and requested the
sub-lieutenant to follow him.

"Hello, Dick; busy, eh?" asked Reginald breezily, as he was ushered
into the presence of his old friend, who was engaged in languidly
turning over the dry-as-dust pages of the _Home Dockyard Regulations_.

Dick Tresillian, a tall, thick-set Cornishman, with so swarthy a
complexion that he might easily have passed for a Spaniard, threw the
book upon the table and jumped to his feet to greet his visitor.  The
son of a mine-owner, he had "passed" for Osborne at the same
examination as Holmsby, but in the ensuing medical examination a
lynx-eyed doctor had discovered that the young Cornish lad possessed a
stiff thumb-joint.  Placing a small silver coin on the floor, the
medico bade the youngster pick it up.  Dick's efforts were unavailing,
and in consequence he was "ploughed."  Thereafter he was wont to bewail
the fact that his career was blighted by a threepenny piece.  However,
he was sent to an engineering college, and in his twentieth year
presented himself at the Admiralty for examination--this time for the
"civil" post of Assistant Surveyor--and passed with comparative ease.

"Busy?" replied Tresillian.  "My dear Reginald, do I look it?  Look
here, old man, I'm not of a grousing disposition, but honestly I'm sick
of this place.  Instead of surveying--I haven't set eyes on a
theodolite since I joined--I've been sent to supervise a pack of clerks
who know more about their work than I ever hope to."

"You've a soft time, at all events," remarked Holmsby.

"That's just what I have to complain about.  Instead of using my
intellect--and I suppose I have a fair share--I've got to kill time,
and help to keep up the utter farce of working overtime for no reason
whatever but to swell a rotten 'return.'  Honestly, Rex, I don't like
it, so I can only hope for a turn at foreign service.  But what's up?
You look excited."

"I'm off to Cornwall again, old chap."

"Lucky dog; but I thought you had only just returned from leave."

"So I have.  This time it's official business.  But to get to the
point: could you possibly manage to come with me?"

"I wish I could.  But what is the reason?"

"Never mind that at present," replied Holmsby, laughing.  "But look
here: I asked you a question.  Can you manage to get off?"

"I haven't had much leave this year.  Perhaps the chief might see his
way clear to let me off from my arduous duties," said Tresillian,
bestowing upon the hateful _Regulations_ a lusty kick.

"Then see him as soon as you can.  I'm off to Penkerris the day after
to-morrow."

"It's like the call of the blood, Rex.  Penkerris is, as you know,
within ten miles of my home, and I know every inch of it."

"Couldn't suit me better.  Now cut off and see about obtaining leave,
and I'll wait here."

"Cannot be done, old fellow," replied the Assistant Surveyor dolefully.
"Thanks to red tape, 'twill take a day at least to get the application
through."

"Then we must leave it at that," said the sub-lieutenant, who knew full
well that his friend's objections were only too well founded.  "You'll
come if you can manage it.  Ten-thirty train from Paddington.  Bring
your motor-bike, and don't forget this important item: an electric
torch.  Let me know the moment your leave's approved."

"By Jove, this sounds mysterious."

"I hope for my own sake it is," replied the sub-lieutenant
sententiously.  "But I'll tell you about it when we are fairly on our
way.  Now I must be off, for there's much to be done.  But remember,
not a word as to where we are bound for," and with this parting
injunction Reginald Holmsby left his friend to essay the prodigious
task of applying for leave.




CHAPTER II

THE OUTRAGE ON THE HIGHWAY

Punctually at a quarter to five on the following Friday afternoon the
train bearing Sub-Lieutenant Reginald Holmsby and Dick Tresillian
steamed into the terminus at Newquay.

The young Naval Intelligence officer had chosen Newquay as the place
from which the motor-cycle journey should commence, since it was within
an easy distance of Penkerris, and the arrival of two dust-covered
tourists would cause less comment than if they had alighted at the
nearest station and jogged leisurely to the scene of their approaching
enterprise.

During the run down from Paddington Holmsby had confided to his comrade
the object of his mission, and the strict necessity of using the
greatest caution.

"We may as well be prepared for eventualities, Dick," he added, and
unstrapping a small leather portmanteau, produced a serviceable little
revolver.

"Here you are, Dick: carry it in your pocket, so that you can easily
get it if required," he continued.  "It's a little beauty.  Takes .202
cartridges, and will drill a hole through a two-inch deal at fifty
yards."

"A neat little weapon," exclaimed Tresillian enthusiastically as he
opened the chambers and examined the ends of the six copper cylinders
with a critical eye.  "But do you think we'll have to fall back upon
this?"

"You never know.  But you are not jibbing already, are you?"

"Not I," replied Dick stoutly.  "Although this is hardly what I
expected in an out-of-the-way Cornish fishing-village.  But how about
you?  Haven't you a shooter too?"

"Trust me for that," said Reginald, tapping the breast pocket of his
coat.  "I've a weapon identical with yours in every respect; so if we
are disappointed, we can find some solace in a shooting match along the
cliffs.  By the bye, is there a decent place where we can put up at
Penkerris?  You know the place fairly well, I believe."

"When I was there last--that's two years ago--I found comfortable
quarters at a Mrs. Pedler's.  A homely sort of Cornishwoman,
middle-aged, inclined to talk, but strictly honest."

"So much the better," remarked Reginald.  "We'll sample Mrs. Pedler's
Cornish pasties and cream within a few hours, I hope."

Half an hour after their arrival at Newquay the two comrades were
proceeding at a modest twenty knots, as the sub-lieutenant expressed it.

Reginald Holmsby's spirits rose high as he felt himself speeding
through the bracing air in the breezy uplands, while his companion was
not one whit the less enthusiastic at being once more in his beloved
native country.  Knowing the route intimately, he led the way with the
utmost confidence, pointing out the numerous objects of interest as
they sped along.

Presently the road descended abruptly, and the riders found themselves
on a wide rolling plain, composed mainly of drifting sand interspersed
with patches of coarse grass.

"This is a strange sort of place," remarked Reginald.  "I must have
missed this district when I came through last month."

"They say the sand is steadily encroaching.  It does in several parts
of Cornwall.  Over there, although you can't see it from the road, lies
St. Piran's lost church.  It was buried in the sand for centuries, and
only discovered a few years ago.  However----  Hello!  Hang it, Rex, my
back tyre's down."

"Hard lines!" ejaculated Holmsby, as he dismounted.  "Here, let me bear
a hand."

"No need for that," replied Tresillian, who had already turned out his
repair outfit.  "I'll have it all right within half an hour or so.
Look here, if you care to have a look at the church while I'm doing
this--it's very interesting--you can walk there and back easily in the
time."

"Thanks, but I don't think I fancy a trudge through that desert, on the
off-chance of finding the place," replied Holmsby, glancing at the vast
expanse of waving grass and soft sand.  "I'll stand by and smoke a
pipe."

"Please yourself, then," said Dick airily.  "But I thought you were a
bit of an antiquary."

"So I am, but I don't want to desert you when I might be able to help."

"Well, look here.  At the fork-roads, less than a hundred yards away,
is an old Roman amphitheatre, called St. Piran's Round.  That may
interest you, and you can't miss it."

"You seem mighty keen on getting rid of me," remarked Reginald, with a
smile.  "However, I'll leave you to it, and have a look at the place."

Leisurely following the soft tract at the side of the road, the
sub-lieutenant came in sight of a circular earthwork, nearly fifty
yards in diameter, a worn gap in the sloping banks enabling him to gain
the interior with comparative ease.

Although walking naturally, his feet made no sound upon the soft earth,
and on gaining the top of the encircling bank Holmsby found that he was
not the only visitor to this relic of bygone days.

Two men were seated on the grass with their backs towards the side on
which Reginald was standing.  Both were apparently tall and strongly
built.  Unless he were absolutely certain to the contrary, Holmsby
could have been sure that one was his companion, Dick Tresillian, while
it did not require much imagination to liken the other man to himself.
Both were talking volubly, making rapid and excited gestures, while one
of them was coiling away a length of insulated wire.

Struck by the resemblance, Holmsby, out of sheer curiosity, stood
looking at the pair, until he became aware, from drifts of conversation
that were borne to his ears, that the conversation was being carried on
in Spanish.

Instantly the quick-witted young officer reviewed the situation.  Here
were two men, obviously foreigners, taking counsel with themselves in a
secluded spot, while there was no apparent reason why they should be
handling electric gear.

"To-night ... will ascend ... strong measures ... Carlos with
explosives..."

"This sounds interesting," mused Reginald.  "Is it possible that these
rascals are the owners or agents of the mysterious airship?  It seems
to me that this Lieutenant Haslar is not so far out after all."

On first thoughts, the sub. was for slipping quietly away and bringing
Dick to the scene of action; but reflecting that the men might observe
him as he crossed the gap, and also that much of the conversation might
be lost, Holmsby slid softly down the remote side of the bank and
listened intently.  But though he strained his ears, the rustling of
the wind in the grass made the conversation totally inaudible.

"May as well risk it," muttered Reginald, and, regaining his feet, he
stood boldly upon the mound.

"After all, if I don't betray any interest in them, they can't do
much," he soliloquised.  "I've as much right as anyone to be here."

At that moment one of the men took a small cylinder from his pocket and
placed it at his side.  Holmsby instantly recognised it as a detonator
similar to that used in the Service and of high explosive power.  As
the foreigner did so he caught a glimpse of the intruder standing on
the bank above him, and with a muttered exclamation of annoyance he
snatched at the cylinder with more haste than discretion and replaced
it in his coat pocket.  Then both men started to their feet and
confronted Reginald with no pleasant expressions on their faces.

The sub-lieutenant now saw that all resemblance to Dick and himself
ended, for the man whose back view reminded him of Tresillian, though
round-featured and swarthy, wore a short, straggling black beard.  The
other, equally swarthy, was clean-shaven and inclined to flabbiness.

"What are you here for?" demanded the latter menacingly, in excellent
English.

"That's rather a strange question to ask me," Holmsby coolly.  "I
understand that this place is open to anyone's inspection.  Have you
any objection?"

Taken aback at the pointed question, the man seemed flabbergasted.

"My friend here is annoyed," said his companion, in a conciliatory
tone.  "We are touring, and have had trouble with the police for not
carrying our driving licences.  Moreover, we have had a slight
breakdown with our car."  And he pointed to the opposite side of the
earthwork, although no sign of the car was visible.

"I am sorry to have caused him needless alarm," replied Reginald,
though he was perfectly aware of the object of the man's change of
front.  "As it happens, my friend, who is a skilled mechanic--purely an
amateur, by the bye--is a little way down the road; he will be most
happy to give you any assistance."

"We shall be much obliged," replied the man, though Holmsby noticed
that he gave a deprecatory shrug.

Leaving the two foreigners, the young officer walked across to the
road, whence he could see Tresillian struggling with the refractory
tyre.

"Dick, ahoy!" he shouted, in stentorian tones.  "Here, I want you."

Seeing that Tresillian had heard and was about to join him, Reginald
walked back to where the twain were still standing.

"Perhaps, sir, you would like to have a look at our car," said one.
"It may be that something is amiss that can easily be rectified without
troubling your friend."

"He's on his way now," replied Holmsby.  "But I'll see what I can do,
if you like."

Without replying, the two men sauntered carelessly round the embankment
to where a powerful-looking car stood, bearing a registration plate
marked F.O. 445.

"It is this switch that has given us the trouble," said the man who had
spoken so abruptly.  "See, it is useless," and jumping into the car, he
thrust the lever to and fro without any apparent result.

Visions of forcible abduction made Reginald exercise a certain amount
of caution, and instead of accepting the implied invitation to board
the car, he stood slightly in advance of the off-side front wheel.  At
all events, Dick would be here soon, and they dared not----

Holmsby's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the car giving a sudden
bound.  Only by a quick side movement was he able to escape being
crushed to death.  Then, as the motor gathered speed, Reginald became
aware of a rapid succession of reports like the crack of a whip.
Instinctively he ducked, his cap falling from his head as he did so;
there was a momentary vision of one of the foreigners brandishing an
automatic pistol, and with a skid and a bound the car dashed round the
corner of the cross-roads.

"What's up, old man?" asked Dick anxiously, as Holmsby rose to his
feet, recovered his displaced headgear, and unconcernedly began to
brush the dust from his clothing.

"Up?  My number very nearly," answered the sub.  "They tried to run me
down, and finished up by letting rip at me.  How I escaped is a marvel.
Hello!  Why, there is a bullet-hole through my cap."

"Who?" demanded Tresillian.

"How should I know?  I can only guess.  Dick, old chap, we are on
something at last."  And Holmsby proceeded to give a detailed account
of what had transpired.

"What are you going to do?" asked Tresillian.  "Put the county police
on their track?  There's a station at Perranporth, and in less than
half an hour a description of the car will be telephoned to all the
police in the duchy."

"Not I," replied Reginald emphatically.  "This is our affair, and once
we bring in outsiders, the whole business, and the reason for my being
here, will become public property.  No, Dick; this little incident
proves that something mysterious is happening, and I mean to find out
what it is.  But, by Jove, I believe the brute touched me after all."

Turning up the coat-sleeve of his left arm, Holmsby found that his
surmise was correct.  A bullet had grazed his forearm sufficiently
slight to leave an angry-looking scar.

"Well, that's luck," he ejaculated.  "One shot through my cap and
another through my sleeve.  The beggar with a beard let fly, I should
think, ten shots, and it was only the jolt of the car that saved me.
There's truth in the old saying that a miss is as good as a mile.  But
hadn't we better be getting under way?  You've finished the repair, I
hope?"

"Nearly.  I've only to replace the cover and pump up.  But ought we not
to make a thorough examination of this place?  It seems quite possible
that, being secluded and sheltered, it might form a landing-place for
this mysterious airship on its nocturnal voyages."

"By Jove, I never thought of that, Dick.  We'll have a look round."

But a careful search revealed nothing.  Beyond a small patch of grass
beaten down by the two foreigners as they sat there was no trace of any
recent damage done to the "ring."  Had an airship alighted, there would
bound to be traces of spilt oil and petrol and the marks of the
securing grapnels.

"We've drawn blank this time," observed Dick, "So, as you say, we'll
proceed."

Hardly had the two comrades left the shelter of the earthwork when a
vicious shot of flame burst from above a rough stone wall at less than
twenty yards distant, and a shot whistled between their heads.




CHAPTER III

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS

Instinctively both men doubled behind the embankment, their retrograde
movement being accelerated by a fusillade of pistol shots; but
unscathed they reached a place of safety.

Reginald Holmsby was perfectly cool and collected, while his companion,
thanks to his previous training in the Imperial Yeomanry, was no
greenhorn, although actually under fire for the first time in his life.
Dick could not help experiencing a strange sensation of mingled fear
and anger as the bullets whizzed past him, but on taking cover his
natural sang-froid reasserted itself.

"You've your revolver, I hope?" asked the sub. noticing that Tresillian
was in his shirt-sleeves.

"Rather: I shifted it to my hip-pocket when I began to repair the tyre."

"Good.  Now, we can't stop here to be potted at.  These fellows will
also try to cripple our bikes I'm afraid.  Will you edge away to your
left and keep them in play, while I work my way round to the right and
take 'em on the flank?"

Dick assented, and, revolver in hand, took up the position indicated.
So far Holmsby had waited merely to place his cap upon a thorn bush so
that it was just visible to the two desperadoes, and immediately set
off to carry out his projected flanking tactics.

The appearance of the headgear was the signal for another fusillade
from an automatic pistol, and in reply Dick sent three shots in rapid
succession towards the spot where a thin bluish haze denoted the
presence of their assailants.

Then ensued a long pause, till the sharp report of Holmsby's revolver
came from the same side of the stone wall behind which the mysterious
foreigners were in hiding.

"After them, Dick, they're off!" shouted the sub-lieutenant, carried
away with the fierce joys of victory.

Instantly Tresillian left his cover and ran for the stone wall.
Clearing it at a bound, he saw with mixed feelings of delight and
regret the forms of the two assailants disappear behind another wall at
the far end of the field.

Prudence urged Dick to return to shelter, while Holmsby, having fired
two more shots, "just to show there's no ill feeling," as he expressed
it, rejoined his comrade.  But the precaution, though judicious, was
unnecessary, for in a few moments the noise of a car's exhaust was
borne faintly to their ears.

"That's settled their hash for the time being, Dick," exclaimed
Reginald.  "You never gave me a chance, for directly you fired they
bolted like hares.  I could only get a flying shot at them as they ran.
But why should they be so intent on sniping us, I wonder?"

"Goodness only knows," replied Tresillian.  "But let's get on the move
in case they take it into their heads to have another go at us.  Now it
comes to the point, Rex, were we justified in firing upon the King's
highway?"

"Justified?  Gracious, man, do you think I was going to be potted like
a pheasant without giving them tit for tat?  Mark my words, we haven't
seen the last of these gentry."

By this time the two comrades had returned to the abandoned
motor-cycles.  Dick replaced the cover while Holmsby stood on the
alert; but unmolested the repair was completed, and the twain
remounted.  "Not a word about this affair to anyone, mind," cautioned
Reginald, as they descended into the little watering-place of
Perranporth.  "We may as well make a few inquiries about the car
though.  We can say that we are looking for our friends in a car with
the registration number F.O. 445."

"What does F.O. stand for?" asked Tresillian.

"Can't say off-hand, but here's a garage.  Perhaps they have a list of
registration letters.  I'll ask."

Presently the sub-lieutenant returned with the information that the car
was registered in Radnor.

"It's a blind for certain," he added.  "However, I'll write off at once
to the office and get the chief to make inquiries as to who the owner
of F.O. 445 might be.  But, honestly, I believe it will be a false
clue."

From Perranporth the road led sharply up the side of a steep hill.
Even on low gear the cycles made hard work of it, but wild scenery
amply compensated the drivers.

Away on the right, betwixt rugged cliffs that formed vast defiles,
could be seen the blue waters of the Atlantic, now tinged with a deep
crimson by the setting sun.  To the left a chain of rugged hills,
fringed by an irregular line of tall chimneys, met the skyline, while
ahead, the gorse and bracken covered downs; capped here and there by
the "stack" of a gaunt deserted mine, rose in seemingly endless
persistence.

"Think we'll take that without trouble?" asked Reginald, pointing to a
conical-shaped hill that reared itself to a height of nearly seven
hundred feet, the white road showing clearly as it ascended a spur of
the formidable beacon.

"We don't want to," replied Dick.  "The road to Penkerris branches off
just here.  You must have missed the hill as well when you came in from
St. Ives."

"Yes, you're right," agreed Holmsby.  "I struck inland to avoid it.
But I remember this lane well."

They had now reached the by-road, which, assuming a loose rough
surface, plunged steeply down a narrow rocky valley.  Ahead, the
power-house and gaunt chimney of a still working copper mine stood out
clearly against the evening sky.

To the left of the road ran a swift stream, not of sparkling water like
the brooks of Devon, but of a bright crimson hue, being fouled by the
mundic from a score of copper mines.

The line terminated abruptly almost at the edge of the sea, where a
stretch of slate-coloured pebbles did duty for the beach.  On either
hand the cliffs rose sheer to a height of over a hundred feet.  To the
right as far as the eye could reach the cliffs continued in a
succession of bold bays, while in the other direction a frowning
granite headland restricted the landscape to a distance of less than a
quarter of a mile.

At the base of this cliff two massive stone jetties enclosed a small
artificial harbour, the only visible means of access from the shore
being a series of steps cut into the solid rock and protected by a
rough handrail, while a wooden crane afforded the means of removing the
scanty catches of fish or the cargoes of the colliers and other
coasters that at rare intervals put into the basin.

A few stone houses, perched on every available portion of level or
slightly sloping ground, comprised the hamlet of Penkerris.
Picturesque from all points of view, it would have been a popular
artists' haunt and watering-place but for the presence of the
mineral-charged stream.  Discolouring the sea for a space of a hundred
yards from the diminutive beach, it rendered Penkerris impossible for
bathing.  Doomed to stagnation, the hamlet was left severely alone by
holiday-makers, and was fifty years behind the times even as far as the
rest of the duchy was concerned.

"Here's Mrs. Pedler's cottage," said Dick, pointing to a rambling
two-storeyed cottage, the granite walls of which were nearly hidden by
a profusion of creepers.  "No doubt she can accommodate us; if not, I'm
afraid we're done, for there's not even an inn nearer than St. Agnes."

Leaving their motor-cycles outside the garden gate the two comrades, in
the now fast-gathering twilight, made their way up the irregular path
and knocked at the door.

It was opened by a portly dame, who peered at the two mackintoshed-clad
figures over the rims of her glasses.

"Good-evening, Mrs. Pedler," exclaimed Dick genially.

"Good-evening, sir, whoever you might be, for I can't a-bring you to
mind.  Ah, to be sure, 'tis Mr. Tresillian.  Come in, sir, and be
kindly welcome."

Within ten minutes the two comrades were doing justice to a plentiful
Cornish supper, while their hostess was bustling to and fro with an
almost too attentive solicitude as to their wants.

"By the bye, Mrs. Pedler, how is Sampson's Cove looking?  Last time I
was here it was about to be sold."

"Don't mention it, sir," exclaimed the old dame raising her hands in
dismay.  "A gentleman from Lunnon 'as bought it and a rare slice of the
down as well.  He be a real stranger gentleman, sure, though I can't
call to mind that I ever set eyes on him.  But people in the village
who knows says he's in league with the Evil One."

"A kind of limited liability company, eh?"

"I can't say as I knows what that is, sir, but 'tis a real bad company
whatever he keeps.  What goes in there goodness only knows, for they've
put a girt iron fence all around, and no one in the village 'as ever
set foot inside since for nigh a twelve-month."

"Then we shan't be able to visit the cove as I used to do?"

"No, sir, that you can't.  It's fair cruel to stop up the path to the
cove like that.  Mr. Haslar up at Anchor Cottage is right vexed about
it.  But that ain't the worst.  The Lunnon gentleman isn't satisfied
with tearing all over the place in a motor, but he's often flying
through the air in a girt thing that makes an awful noise."

"What's that, Mrs. Pedler?" asked Holmsby, who had hitherto been
patiently enduring the old lady's conversation.  "Travelling through
the air?  Is that a fact?"

"As sure as I'm alive, sir; for, though I'd told you I'd never set eyes
on him, his flying-machine well-nigh scared the wits out of I."

"Oh, what sort of machine is it--an aeroplane?"

"Oh no, sir," continued Mrs. Pedler, "'Twern't that; 'twas more like
the size of my poor dear husband's ship, and she was a brig of 200 tons
register," and the old lady pointed to a gaudy oil-painting of a trader
that occupied a prominent position on the wall.

"'Twas like this," Mrs. Pedler was now in full swing, and needed no
prompting.  "Last June, it being my sister's wedding-day so I am sure
of the date, I had been over to Redruth to spend the day.  Sure as fate
I mussed my train, and it was dark when I caught the next.  As you
know, sir, it's a pretty goodish step from St. Ann's Road station to
here.  Just as I were a-coming to the cross-roads I heard a most
uncommon sort of floppin' in the air, and this girt flying thing comes
right over my head.  I were turble skeard, an' took to my heels an'
ran--an' me with rheumatics in my knees an' all."

"What happened then?" asked Reginald.

"I came straight home.  Next mornin' I told the police sergeant, but he
actually told me--a respectable widow--that I had been having a drop
too much.  'Twas the same with everybody I told, except Mr. Haslar; but
now I knows they knows I was not telling fancy tales."

At length, from sheer want of breath, Mrs. Pedler stopped and left the
two comrades alone.  Supper over, Holmsby suggested a stroll before
turning in.  "The moon will be up by now," he remarked.  "And a saunter
as far as the headland will do us no harm.  I'm afraid, though, we will
not see anything of the nocturnal airship, unless we make a night of
it; and, candidly, I've had enough excitement to last me for the
present."

Accordingly, the twain took the left-hand or north-western cliff path,
and in about a quarter of an hour reached the extreme point that
separates Penkerris Bay from its neighbour.

Everything was calm and peaceful.  Beyond the glimmer of a few lamps in
the hamlet and the regular flashes of Godrevy Light almost on the
horizon, extreme darkness brooded over sea and land, for the moon was
obscured behind a bank of clouds.

"Quiet, isn't it?" remarked Holmsby, puffing contentedly at his pipe.

"Simply grand," replied Tresillian.  "But we've come in the wrong
direction to see anything of Sampson's Cove."

"I meant to," said the young officer.  "To-morrow we'll have a quiet
day and find some excuse to keep watch all night.  So----"

"What's that?" exclaimed Dick hurriedly, pointing to a faint luminosity
on the water several hundred feet below the spot on which they were
standing.

Following the direction indicated Holmsby saw a phosphorescent swirl
disturbing the tranquil water close to the edge of the next headland.
After watching it for some moments the sub. rose to his feet.

"Let's get back," he remarked.  "You're getting jumpy, Dick.  It's only
a shoal of mackerel."

"I've never seen a shoal like that," maintained Tresillian stoutly.
"Hold hard a minute."

The luminous patch, whatever it was, was slowly moving seaward, yet it
retained its apparently compact form.

Just then the moon shone forth through a rift in the clouds, flooding
the sea with its silvery light, and the illusion vanished.

"Come along, Dick," repeated Holmsby.  "You have caught a bad nervous
disorder."

But Tresillian obstinately refused to budge, keeping his eyes fixed
upon the spot where he had last caught a glimpse of the mysterious
swirl.  For full five minutes he remained thus, while Holmsby, with
ill-concealed impatience, sat down upon a piece of rock and refilled
his pipe.

Just as Reginald was in the act of lighting up, a sudden exclamation
from his companion caused him to throw down the match and spring to his
feet.  Half-blinded by the glare of the match, he could see nothing,
but he distinctly heard the faint whirr of a powerful motor.

As for Tresillian he gazed in astonishment at what he saw, for
apparently from the depths of the sea a dark grey cylinder had emerged,
and with incredible swiftness rose in the air to an immense height,
speeding rapidly in a south-easterly direction.

By the time Holmsby had accustomed himself to the darkness once more,
the mysterious airship was out of sight and hearing.




CHAPTER IV

CHECKMATE

"What do you think of it?" asked Dick.  Being a born diplomat, he had
prudently refrained from the irritating exclamation, "Wasn't I right
after all?" but he could not help feeling inwardly elated at his
discovery.

"Didn't see it at all," replied Holmsby, scorning to beat about the
bush.  "I was lighting my pipe and the glare of the match put me out of
the running.  What was the thing like?"

"As far as I could see, it was similar in shape to our airships, only
smaller.  Whatever it was it shot up from beneath the sea, floated for
a brief interval, and then ascended."

"Are you sure it came from below the surface?  I can understand an
airship starting from a floating position on the water, but the very
idea of an object possessing the extreme buoyancy to lift in the air
and sufficient weight to sink in the water seems utterly opposed to
every law of nature and science."

"I'm practically certain the thing did shoot up from beneath the
surface."

"Then, Dick, we are on the track of an invention that will
revolutionise warfare--a submarine possessing some powerful and
hitherto unknown agency to make it able to resist an enormous pressure
of water and also to enable it to raise itself in the air.  A truly
formidable tool in the hands of an unscrupulous inventor.  But it's not
of much use waiting for further developments to-night.  To-morrow we'll
pump old Haslar, and in the evening we must take steps to fathom the
mystery."

That night Dick Tresillian could not sleep.  The events of the day had
excited his feelings to such an extent that for hours he lay uneasily
in his bed listening with feelings of envy and irritation to his
companion's deep, regular breathing.

At length, finding slumber impossible, Dick rose and went to the open
window, where he remained lost in thought, yet hoping to detect the
sound of the returning airship, till the dawn began to disperse die
shades of night.

Then dead-beat he threw himself upon the bed and slept, seemingly but a
few minutes, until he was roused by Holmsby's voice demanding whether
he meant to spend the day in bed.

"What's the matter with you, by Jove?" asked the sub., noting his
companion's tired expression.  "You look as if you hadn't had a wink of
sleep all night."

"Neither have I--I simply couldn't.  But I don't think we'll witness
the departure of the airship to-night."

"Why?"

"I was looking out of the window until dawn, and I can swear I never
heard a sound.  So perhaps she's off for good."

"I trust not.  But get your things on and we'll go for a swim.  There's
nothing like salt water to freshen you up."

On the way down to the little harbour they met a fisherman returning
from his night's work.  The man greeted them civilly enough, but both
remarked that he eyed them with a certain amount of suspicion.

"Perhaps he takes us for some of the new owners of Sampson's Cove,"
said Dick.  "If so, that's awkward.  We must disarm suspicion in some
way."

"Mrs. Pedler will enlighten them on that subject, never fear," replied
Reginald.  "But here we are, and there's another boat coming in.  If we
can hire it for an hour we can have a decent swim without running the
risk of being dyed a bright red."

Descending the steep flight of steps, the two men reached the jetty.
Without hesitation the fisherman agreed to take them off, for his luck
had been out, and less than half a dozen small whiting had been the
reward of a night's hard toil.

"Can you run us round to that cove I see yonder?" asked Holmsby,
pointing to the mysterious Sampson's Cove.  "The water seems clear
enough there."

"No, I won't," replied the fisherman bluntly, resting on his oars.
"You be strangers here?"

"Staying at Mrs. Pedler's.  But I remember you," said Dick.  "You took
me out fishing when I was here two years ago."

"Now you comes to mention it, I did, sir," replied the man.  "But you
ain't anything to do with they up there--are you, sir?" and he jerked
his head in the direction of Sampson's Down.

"No, we're not," assented Tresillian.  "But what's the matter that you
should refuse to take us to the cove?"

"Can't do it, sir.  The place has been sold, and a pretty fine sort o'
chap 'as bought it.  I believe he's a luney, for he's fenced the place
right in and don't allow a single soul in Penkerris to set foot inside.
If a boat sets her keel in the cove a lump of rock'll be sent flying
from the cliff--an' who's to prove it ain't pure accident?"

"Sounds lively," commented Dick.

"What sort of man is the owner of Sampson's?" asked Reginald.  "Tall?
Does he use a motor-car?"

"No, he's a little 'un.  Leastways, I think so, but I only just caught
sight of'n once.  Ne'er a blessed moty-car 'ave I seed, either."

"Surely he must get provisions from somewhere?"

"Not in Penkerris nor in St. Agnes.  An' 'tis said that he only lives
in a little house over t'hill.  Sure he's a real wrong 'un.  There's
been nought but bad luck in the fishin' since he comed here."

"How's that?" demanded Holmsby sharply.

"Don't know," replied the fisherman with equal brevity, mistaking the
tone of his questioner.  "But 'ere you are, sir; no tide fit to speak
of and puffectly safe for swimmin'."

"You frightened the old chap," observed Dick on their return to the
village.  "He shut up like an oyster."

"Yes, I noticed that.  'Twas an unfortunate blunder on my part.
However, we'll have some breakfast, then cross-examine old Haslar."

Anchor Cottage was the highest-situated building in Penkerris, standing
within fifty feet of the edge of the low cliff on the north-eastern
side of the beach.  It was a two-storeyed stone building with a roof of
thick slate slabs.  On two sides there was a well-stocked
flower-garden, while seaward a small lawn, with a flagstaff in the
centre and half a boat that had been converted into a look-out perched
perilously near the brink of the sheer cliff.

Half hidden in the profusion of flowers was a short, stocky, red-faced
man with a neatly-trimmed iron-grey moustache and torpedo beard.  In
his navy-blue reefer coat there was no possibility of taking the
individual for anything but a retired Service man.

"Can we reach the cliff by this path?" asked Holmsby by way of opening
a conversation.

"You may, sir, though this is private property.  This way.  I'm afraid
you can't go very far because of the fence."

"Thanks awfully," replied Reginald, purposely ignoring the latter part
of Lieutenant Haslar's reply.  "You've a fine display in your garden,
if I may be allowed to say so."

"Not bad," replied the retired officer modestly.

"I suppose you've had a lifelong experience of gardening.  These rows
are worth exhibiting."

"Never touched a hoe as far as I remember until twelve years ago.  I'm
a Service man."

"A Service man?"  Holmsby was the perfection of innocent ignorance.

"Yes, sir, a Service man.  Pensioned carpenter-lieutenant from the
Royal Navy.  Haslar, John Haslar is my name, and I'm not ashamed to
answer to it."

"Well, Mr. Haslar, we must thank you again for your courtesy--but what
was that you said about a fence?"

The old man's face clouded.

"Yes, that blamed fence you can see over there.  Turns Sampson's Down,
with one of the finest, if not the finest, outlook on the coast into a
private arsenal or something worse."

"A private arsenal?"

"Ay, 'tis about time the Government took steps in the matter.  They
aren't so particular as when I was in the Service, or they would have
sent a detachment of coastguards to investigate.  Instead of that the
'gobbles' have nothing better to do than to plant cabbages.  It's an
outrage, sir."

"I'm afraid I can't follow you."

"Well, I know for certain that the fellow who has bought Sampson's Down
and the cove is nothing less than a foreign spy, if not worse.  Night
after night I've seen one of those airships start off from the cove.
What for?  Why, Plymouth isn't more'n two hours' run, so you can draw
your own conclusions.  I've written to the Admiralty about it, but
beyond the usual acknowledgment they have taken no action."

"I've heard tales in the village about an airship.  What sort of craft
is she?  Where is she kept when not in use?"

"That's where I'm beat, sir; never been able to make out.  But might I
ask why you take such an interest in the thing?"

"It is your account that interests us, Mr. Haslar.  You see we are
visitors here, and never expected to hear strange tales about an
airship in this out-of-the-way Cornish hamlet.  By the bye, would you
care to have a drink?  There's a 'pub.' in the village, I believe?"

"The sun's not over the foreyard yet, sir."

"Very good," replied the sub-lieutenant, but the next instant he was
biting his lip in his mortification: by his tacit acceptance of the
pensioner's refusal he had given himself away.

"You are a Service man yourself!" exclaimed Haslar, looking Holmsby
straight in the face.

"I am," admitted Reginald.  "And what is more, I've been sent down
expressly by the Admiralty to investigate the facts contained in your
report."

"Then why the deuce didn't you say so, instead of beating about the
bush?  Confound it, you cocksure youngsters want to pick the brains of
a man old enough to be your grandfather and take all the credit.  I'll
be hanged if I tell you another thing."

And turning on his heel the irate lieutenant walked off, leaving
Reginald and his companion standing dumbfounded in the garden.

"I've made a mess of it again, by Jove," ejaculated the former, when he
had recovered his tongue.  "That's twice this morning already."

"Never mind; the old chap will open out next time we fall across him,"
said Dick.  "But at any rate our investigations are checkmated in this
direction, so we may as well start on another tack."

Armed with a pair of powerful prism-glasses, the two investigators
hired a boat, and dropping anchor about a quarter of a mile from
Sampson's Cove, began ostensibly to fish.

Under the shelter of the loosely furled sail they took turns to scan
the frowning cliff.  But although they persevered till late in the
afternoon, not a single human being nor any sign of animation could be
discerned.

"Evidently the place is deserted," remarked Holmsby.  "The airship has
either left for good or she has gone for a prolonged cruise.  However,
we'll renew our researches after sunset."




CHAPTER V

THE SECOND NIGHT

"Any luck, sir?" asked the boatman, as the two pseudo-fishermen
returned to Penkerris Harbour.

"Not a single bite," replied Dick.  "But we're going to try again
to-night--I believe night is the best time for this sort of game."

The man looked at them with a marked shade of suspicion, but after all
he was well paid for the hire of his boat, so what did it matter?

"It used to be a good place for night fishing, sir," he said.  "Perhaps
with a bit o' luck you might pick up a few bass or whiting."

"We can but try, so will you please see that the boat is ready and the
bait on board by half-past eight."

"You won't be runnin' no risks wi' my boat, will 'e, sir?  You see
she's all I got to keep me going."

"I'll try not to," replied Holmsby.  "By the bye, what is she worth?"

"A matter o' ten pun', seein' as she ain't no chicken," replied the man
honestly.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, Come with us to our diggings and
I'll hand Mrs. Pedler a ten-pound note to give to you if the boat's
lost--which I don't expect for a moment will be the case."

"Very good, sir," assented the man, with an air of relief.  "I knew'd
as you were a gentleman."

"We're making everyone in the place suspicious," remarked Dick, after
the boatman had left the cottage.  "There's old Haslar fairly up the
pole: I wonder if he's been giving the show away?"

"I don't mind particularly if the villagers are suspicious," asserted
Reginald, "so long as we can achieve our aim; and I mean to do
it--outside influences won't affect the case.  Now the best thing we
can do is to have a nap after dinner till eight o'clock so that we can
be fit for our night's work."

The evening was warm and balmy; not a ripple disturbed the surface of
the sea, even the usual ground-swell failing to assert itself.  Quite
three miles to seaward a Rochester barge, a Padstow brig, and a large
barquentine were drifting idly with the flood-tide.  Almost hull down,
two tramps were ploughing Bristolwards, each sending up a thick column
of smoke, while far away in the direction of Trevose Head the sea was
dotted with the brown sails of the Padstow fishing-smacks.

"We shall only have ourselves for company," remarked Holmsby, as they
surveyed the deserted sea in the vicinity of the rock-bound coast.
"Even the fishing-boats seem to give this part a wide berth.  You've
your revolver handy, I hope?"

"Trust me for that, after our meeting with those rascals at St. Piran's
Round," replied Dick.  "But here we are, and the boat's ready."

It was now barely quarter flood, and the truck of the boat's mizzenmast
projected only two feet above the edge of the jetty.  On the fore side
of her mizzen, as is usual with the fishing-craft of these parts, a
square iron frame with glass sides contained an oil lamp.  This the
considerate boatman had already lighted.

"Good-evenin', gentlemen.  Everything's ready.  I'll bring her round to
the steps."

"No, don't trouble," said Reginald.  "We'll slide down the shrouds.
Now, Dick, inboard with you."

This Tresillian accomplished, but to his surprise Holmsby, in following
him, awkwardly collided with the lamp, his shoulder demolishing two
panes of the glass.

"Steady, cap'n," exclaimed the boatman reproachfully, as he witnessed
the destruction of his property.

"I'm sorry," said Reginald.  "However, I'll make good the damage."

"And you'll be wanting another lamp?  I'll run and get one."

"No, we won't take another.  Besides, the moon will be up in a couple
of hours."

"Not before eleven-thirty, sir."

"We'll do without a light," said Holmsby decisively.

Owing to the flat calm it was useless to hoist sail, so using their
oars with a will the two comrades urged the boat through the entrance
to the little harbour and gained the open sea.  That they were the
object of much local curiosity was evident from the fact that on a seat
perched on the edge of the lofty cliff that bounded the landward side
of the harbour half a dozen fishermen were watching them through
telescopes and binoculars.

"Don't raise your voice above a whisper," continued Reginald.  "On a
fine night like this sound travels so clearly that these fellows could
hear us talk when we are a quarter of a mile away.  I managed that lamp
very nicely, didn't I?"

"I didn't think a sailor would be so confoundedly clumsy," was Dick's
remark.

"Nor is he.  I smashed it on purpose; otherwise, we would have had to
keep it burning."

"Why?  Surely we could have extinguished it if we wanted to?"

"If we had there is a great possibility that the fishermen ashore
seeing the light go out would think something was amiss and would put
off to us.  Now we can lie fairly safe from observation, for from a
great height a small craft like this would be almost invisible even in
the moonlight."

It was a weary vigil.  Though both men kept their eyes glued to their
night-glasses in turns and scanned the horizon and the rugged outlines
of Sampson's Down, their efforts seemed fated to be unrewarded.

Hour after hour went by.  The moon rose and ascended high into the sky,
throwing the bold headland into strong relief; but still no signs of
the object of the night's watch.

Suddenly at about two in the morning the anchor-warp trembled
violently.  The boat's nose dipped to within a few inches of the water
and gathering way the little craft began to shoot rapidly ahead.

"Stand by!" shouted Reginald warningly to his comrade, and grasping his
knife he made his way for'ard, lying full length upon the diminutive
half-deck.

Dick, hardly able to realise the situation, "stood by" very effectively
by sitting on the bottom boards and gripped the thwart with both hands.
He was aware that the little craft was being drawn towards the cliff at
no mean speed, while a sullen agitation of the sea showed that there
was some large moving body travelling beneath the surface.

Then, without warning the boat's bow dipped once more till the water
swirled over the half-deck.  Holmsby, his arms and shoulders immersed,
slashed at the anchor-rope, and the next instant, the boat, released
from the downward pressure, bolted up like a cork, well-nigh throwing
the sub. from his precarious perch.

"I thought we should have to swim for it," he exclaimed.  "And we've
lost our anchor."

"What has happened?" asked Dick, still remaining in his undignified
position.

"Oh, nothing: only the submarine airship come home."

"What to be done now?"

"Done?  Why wait.  The fun is only just beginning.  The tide's slack
and with no wind the boat won't drift very far.  Get the oars out,
though; we're a bit too close in."

"By Jove, we are!" exclaimed Tresillian, as he noticed for the first
time that they had been dragged or towed almost between the two horns
of Sampson's Cove.

"There's one thing I've discovered.  There's a submarine passage
underneath the cove, and that's where the craft has gone.  If I hadn't
cut the rope we would have been carried down with her, and the suction
would certainly have drawn us through the tunnel.  Now, that's far
enough: lay on your oars and watch."

For more than another hour they waited, giving an occasional stroke
with the oars to counteract the tide.

Presently Reginald touched his companion lightly on the shoulder.

"Look!" he whispered.

Standing on the summit of the cliff, his outline silhouetted against
the pale dawn, was a man.  For a few moments he looked in the direction
of the boat, then, seemingly without the faintest hesitation, as the
head and shoulders of another person appeared above a slight rise in
the sloping ground of the down, the foremost man sprang into space.

Dick gave an involuntary gasp, that trailed off into an exclamation of
astonishment, for the falling man's descent was gradually retarded,
till it looked as if he were descending a flight of stairs.  Once or
twice he appeared to be drawn towards the face of the cliff, but by a
movement of his arms he thrust himself clear, till he disappeared from
view behind a mass of boulders fronting the base of the headland.

Then the second followed, descending in almost the same manner.

Holmsby glanced at his companion.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.  "They must have descended by a
rope or steel wire, but I can't make one out: can you?"

"I'm pretty certain there's no rope: but how did they manage it?"

Dick was positively shivering, while in spite of his iron nerve
Reginald felt a cold chill in his spine.  There was something decidedly
uncanny in the manner in which the two men literally threw themselves
over the towering precipice and were prevented by some invisible agency
from being dashed to pieces.

"They spotted us," continued Holmsby.

"Do you think so?  We're still in the gloom," said Tresillian.  "But,
honestly, old man, I feel creepy."

"So do I," admitted Holmsby frankly.  "Still we're here, and I mean to
remain till sunrise."

But though they resumed their vigil till the sun tinged the eastern sky
no further developments were forthcoming.

"Let's get back," said Reginald.  "I've seen as much or more than I
expected, but still I'm not satisfied.  To-night I mean to scale the
fence and explore the top of the cliff.  Are you game?"

"Yes," replied Dick.




CHAPTER VI

THE THIRD NIGHT

The following afternoon Reginald and his companion walked into St.
Agnes, where a telegram was awaiting them:

"F.O. 445 motor-cycle owned by Scatterthwaite, Methodist preacher
Presteign."

"That's a false scent laid bare," commented Holmsby.  "The number of
the motor-car is obviously a blind, so it would have been no use to
have attempted to track it by its identification plate.  I shouldn't
wonder if the rogues kept a stock of them.  However, there is some
consolation that we need not worry about what is obviously an attempt
to lead us astray.  Had we done so we might have complications with an
irreproachable Radnor parson."

"By the bye, we may as well have a newspaper," remarked Tresillian ere
they left the shop.  "I haven't seen one since we left town, and it's
strange how you miss being in touch with the rest of the world."

"Here you are--read this," he continued, after scanning the pages of a
county paper.

Holmsby took the limp pages and read:

"Plymouth--Monday.--An airship passed over the town in the early hours
of Sunday night.  After hovering above the Citadel it headed towards
Devonport Dockyard, where it descended to within two hundred feet of
the ground.  When last seen it was proceeding rapidly in the direction
of Tavistock.  Much uneasiness has been caused in official circles by
its visit, since it is well known that none of the airships attached to
the Port have left their sheds during the week, while the movements of
Service Aircraft in other parts of the kingdom have been fully
accounted for."

"That's let the cat out of the bag," growled Holmsby.  "Once the papers
get hold of the news our people will be spurred on to immediate action.
We must look sharp or the chief will be sending a senior to
investigate."

During the remainder of the walk back to Penkerris conversation was
dropped.  Both men were thinking deeply.

"Look here, Dick," said the sub-lieutenant at length.  "I didn't want
to report to headquarters until I had unravelled the mystery--since the
chief treated the matter lightly.  But now, for our own credit, I will
draft out a full report of our investigations to date and give
particulars of our impending expedition.  This will satisfy the old
man, and perhaps stop him from sending Boldrewood or any of the senior
fellows down."

Holmsby acted accordingly, and having posted the missive and partaken
of supper, the two investigators prepared for their nocturnal
expedition.

"I've commandeered one of Mrs. Pedler's footstools," remarked Reginald.
"It will easily stow into this bag, and my electric lamp too.  By the
bye, you might run down to the harbour and get Trevaskis to lend you a
coil of rope--twenty-five fathoms of inch-and-a-half stuff if he's got
it."

In less than a quarter of an hour Dick returned with more than the
required length slung in coils over his shoulder.

It was now dark.  Dividing their burdens the two adventurers left the
village and began the steep ascent that lay betwixt them and Sampson's
Down.  Here they rested ere descending the intervening valley.

"Stand by; there's some one coming this way," whispered Holmsby.

For want of better shelter the twain flung themselves on the grass,
while the short quick gasps of a person obviously out of breath came
nearer and nearer.

Presently a short, thick-set figure passed within five yards of their
place of concealment, and ignorant of the presence of Reginald and his
companion, breasted the crest of the hill and descended towards the
hamlet.

"It's old Haslar.  I wonder what he's doing out here at this time of
night?" whispered Holmsby, as the lieutenant's outlines were lost to
sight in the darkness.

"Doing?  Why, trying to cut us out," replied Dick, as they shouldered
their loads.  "I hope he hasn't raised the alarm."

Another quarter of an hour's brisk walk ending with a stiff climb
brought them to the fence.  It was a formidable affair, being of the
so-called "unclimbable" variety, and consisted of double-barbed rails
seven feet in height with intervening spikes of about two-thirds the
length of the taller ones.

Without a word Reginald wedged the footstool upon two of the sharp
prongs; then bending down he signed to Dick to jump on his shoulders.
The next instant Tresillian was seated upon the precarious perch,
whence he slid softly to the ground.

"Hand over the gear," he whispered.

Holmsby passed the sack containing the lamp, but instead of throwing
the coil of rope to his companion he placed the bight of the coils
between two of the spikes.  Then gripping the upright and inserting his
foot into the lowermost portion of the coil of rope, Reginald swung
himself easily upon the stool, thence rejoining his comrade.

They were safely within the fence, but how were they going to get out
again should they meet with opposition?

From this point the cliff path continued, though grass-grown through
disuse.  In places it passed perilously close to the edge of the cliff
which in many places had recently crumbled away.

"Steady a moment while I hitch the end of the rope round my waist,"
whispered Holmsby.  "You hang on to the rest of the coil and walk a few
yards behind me."

Presently they came to the spot immediately over the head of the cove
and where the mysterious descent of the two men had occurred.  As
Reginald had expected, there was no sign of a windlass or any
mechanical means by which a descent could be made, but instead they
found a well-defined path leading up the gently-rising ground above the
cliff.

"This way," said the sub, in a low voice.  "We're on the track."

Before he had gone fifty yards Holmsby stopped short at the brink of a
yawning shaft barely twenty feet in diameter.  It had been at one time
enclosed by a low stone wall, but nearly half of the stonework had been
levelled.

"Stay where you are and keep the rope taut," he cautioned.  "I'm going
to lean well over this pit."

For nearly five minutes Holmsby listened.  To his great satisfaction,
he distinguished the rhythmical purr of machinery deep in the bowels of
the earth, while at regular intervals came the dull swish of the
ground-swell.

"This funnel communicates with the sea," he whispered, as he rejoined
his comrade.  "I fully expected it did.  Now I'm going to attempt the
descent.  If this is the shaft of a disused mine there will be
climbing-irons to get down by.  This stump seems fairly secure.  I want
you to take a half-hitch round it, and pay out the rope till I find a
foothold.  When you feel the rope slacken keep on paying out gently.
If I jerk it twice in quick succession haul up."

Dick knew that it was useless to expostulate.  He could only follow his
friend's instructions, and, as Reginald disappeared over the edge of
the chasm, he kept the rope well in check.  But before he had paid out
twenty feet he felt the strain relax.

Slowly he continued to ease off the rope till quite a hundred feet had
been let go.  Although the exertion was slight the moisture stood in
great beads upon Dick's forehead.

Suddenly the rope was jerked out of Tresillian's hands.  He heard a
stifled cry.  Then as he strove frantically to check the swiftly
running coil he felt that the strain had ceased.  Then the dreadful
knowledge dawned upon him that the rope had parted and Reginald had
fallen to meet a terrible fate on the floor of the stupendous abyss.

Scarce knowing what to do, Dick stood helpless.  His bewildered mind
was trying to form some plan whereby he could aid his comrade--if he
were still alive.

His agonised thoughts were rudely interrupted, for a pair of strong
hands grasped his ankles; another gripped his throat, and a man's knee
was thrust violently into the small of his back.

Before he could utter a sound, Dick was lying on his back with his
limbs bound so tightly that he could scarce writhe in his bonds.

In the starlight he could see that his captors were three stalwart men,
but their features were concealed by thick beards and the turned-down
brims of their hats.  They were talking rapidly and in low tones in a
language that was quite unintelligible to him, though it was evident
that they were arguing as to what was to be done to their prisoner.

In a vain hope for the aid that was not to be forthcoming, Tresillian
shouted as loudly as his parched throat allowed, but ere the echoes
died away one of the men lifted him as easily as if he were a child and
bore him towards the mouth of the shaft.

For a moment Dick felt himself being held over the brink of the
horrible pit, then fear held him spellbound.

Slowly his captor leant over the abyss.  Dick realised with a thrill of
indescribable dread that 'twas impossible for the man to regain his
balance....  Then, clasping his prisoner in his powerful embrace, the
fellow dropped into space.




CHAPTER VII

DON MIGUEL O'ROURKE

"Four bells already, Stubbs?" asked Holmsby, sitting up in what he
imagined to be his bunk.  Then he began to realise that he was not in
his cabin on board the _Tremendous_, and that it was not his marine
servant warning him for duty.  Instead he found himself in a cot in a
small cubicle, with Tresillian lying on a folding bed groaning most
dismally; while standing by the door was a short, swarthy-looking man
of obviously foreign descent.

"Where am I?" asked the young officer wearily; then, his attention
drawn to his comrade's moans, he demanded fiercely, "What have you done
to my friend?"

"There is no need to rise, Mr. Holmsby," exclaimed the stranger
peremptorily.  "Mr. Tresillian is in no danger.  He is merely labouring
under the effects of an anæsthetic--even as you were till within a few
moments ago."

Obediently Reginald fell back upon his bunk.  Somehow he had no
inclination to do otherwise.  So he lay and pondered, trying to recall
the events of the night and endeavouring to find some reason for his
presence in bed.  Then came the awful recollection of a struggle with
an unseen antagonist in the depths of the vertical tunnel; his vain
efforts to prevent himself being torn from his precarious foothold; the
indescribable sensation of finding himself falling headlong ... and
then merciful insensibility.

Almost dreading to make the experiment, Holmsby drew up first one leg
and then the other.  Thank heavens, they appeared to be sound.  His
arms, he knew, still possessed their muscular action.  Perhaps, after
all, in his fall he had not sustained any serious injury.

"I wonder who that little Johnny with the turned-up moustache is?" he
thought.  "Evidently he knows who I am, but how?"

Raising himself on one elbow, Holmsby looked at the third occupant of
the cubicle.  He was barely five feet four in height, yet properly
proportioned.

He had the olive features of a Spaniard, with dark brown eyes, straight
nose, and rounded chin.  His hair was dark and crisp, growing low down
on a lofty brow; his mouth was of generous dimensions, his lips thin,
while his carefully trained moustache failed to conceal a liberal
expanse betwixt his upper lip and nose.

He was carefully groomed.  His clothes, well-cut and immaculately
fitted, consisted of a dark blue yachting coat and trousers, a soft
flannel shirt, and a crimson cummerbund; while spotlessly clean white
doeskin shoes encased a pair of violet-socked feet.

"Evidently fond of a bit of colour," commented Reginald.  "Yet the
fellow doesn't look like a fool.  Well, here goes; I'll tackle him.
Beastly awkward to find yourself in night-gear when you've to question
an utter stranger, though."

"Excuse me, but where on earth am I?"

The unknown regarded his interrogator calmly for a few seconds before
replying.

"To the best of my belief, sir, you are not on the earth at all, but
two hundred and fifty-nine feet beneath the surface."

The stranger spoke in sibilant tones, with the faintest trace of a
foreign accent.

"Then how did we get here?" asked Holmsby.

"Mainly through your overstrained inquisitiveness: also, I regret to
say, through an equally unfortunate blunder on the part of some of my
servants.  But we will defer further explanations for the time being,
Mr. Holmsby, for I see that your companion is about to recover his
normal condition."

Holmsby turned to his friend.  Dick Tresillian had rolled partly off
his bunk and was moving his right hand over the floor as if in the act
of writing.

"Ten thousand fiends take the Cash Account!"

In spite of himself, Reginald smiled at his chum's antics and
exclamation.

"Mr. Tresillian, like yourself, suffers from an excess of zeal at
times," exclaimed the stranger languidly.  "I have heard it said that
your Government business methods are of the most antiquated
description, and unnecessarily complicated into the bargain.  Your
friend evidently wished to corroborate my assertion....  Kindly shake
him by the shoulders and he will be himself once more.  We must excuse
the deficiencies of your wardrobes."

Holmsby obeyed, and in a few moments Dick was awake and striving to
collect his thoughts, even as Reginald had done.

"I will now leave you two gentlemen to the pleasure of your own
company," remarked the unknown.  "After your six hours' sleep perhaps a
little refreshment will be acceptable.  Meanwhile will you do me the
honour?" and producing a gold cigar-case from his pocket the speaker
with a courtly bow offered it to Holmsby and his comrade.

As he opened the door the stillness of the room was broken by a loud
roar--the united outburst of machinery working at high pressure and the
surging of the waves in a confined space.  But on closing the door
after him the stranger completely shut out all noise once more.  The
walls of the building, though thin, were absolutely sound-proof.

"Well, we've certainly stumbled upon something remarkable," observed
Dick, as he proceeded to light his cigar.

"Stumbled into it, you mean," corrected Holmsby, who could not help
noticing that the desire to smoke--usually the last taste in a person
recovering from the effects of an anæsthetic--was perfectly normal.
"But what have they done with our clothes?"

"Goodness only knows: and to think that we've been in a state of
insensibility for six hours.  But I say, Rex, old chap: what happened
to you after you began to descend the shaft?"

The two comrades exchanged the account of their experiences, without
being able to satisfactorily explain how they escaped being dashed to
pieces in the tremendous drop down the yawning pit.

"No, I can't understand it," concluded Holmsby.  "But, by Jove, before
I leave this place I'll know why.  It also puzzles me to know how that
polite little foreigner got hold of our names."

"From our clothing, perhaps."

"From yours, possibly; but I make it a point never to have mine marked
with my name.  Perhaps we 'babbled o' green fields' in our sleep, or in
other words, talked shop.  I know for a fact that you did."

At that moment the door opened and a man entered bearing the two
comrades' clothes.  Without saying a word he placed them on separate
chairs and withdrew.

"As silent as the tomb," commented Tresillian.  "I wonder if that's one
of the fellows who tackled us.  However, let's dress and we'll feel
more at home."

Their clothes had been carefully brushed and pressed, but, in place of
the stout boots in which they had set out, two pairs of doeskin shoes
with rubber soles and heels had been brought in to them.  Their
revolvers had, however, been removed from the pockets of their clothes.

Hardly had they finished dressing than the same man who had brought
their clothes reappeared with a tray on which were rolls, butter, eggs,
Cornish cream, hot milk, and coffee.

"Gracious!  Do they run a model dairy in the bowels of the earth!"
ejaculated Tresillian.  "Come let's set-to, for I'm as hungry as a
hunter."

After breakfast the comrades began a systematic examination of their
room.  It was about fifteen feet in length and twelve in breadth, the
height being about nine feet.  With the exception of the door there
were no other openings, windows and ventilators being apparently
unnecessary.  The walls were of a hard resounding substance resembling
porcelain, which Tresillian, from his professional knowledge,
recognised as "Uralite"--a composition used largely in the construction
of light, yet strong fire-proof buildings.  The floor consisted of
solid rock covered with canvas.  Tresillian tried the door.  It was
locked.

"Queer sort of lamps," remarked Dick.  "Apparently electric, though I
cannot see any wires."

"Be careful," cautioned Reginald, as his companion grasped one of the
glass globes that were placed on brackets on the walls.

The warning came too late.  Dick seized one of the globes and lifted it
from its shelf.  There were no wires.

Even as he did so Tresillian clapped one hand to his eyes exclaiming,
"I'm blinded!"

Instantly Holmsby dashed across the room, took the glass from the hand
of the unlucky investigator, and replaced it on the shelf.

"How goes it?" he asked anxiously, for Tresillian still kept his eyes
covered.

"I hardly know.  I was trying to discover whether it was a carbon lamp
and the beastly thing seemed to snap the optic nerve....  But it's
getting better, I think."

"Still making unfortunate discoveries, Mr. Tresillian?" asked a suave
voice, and, wheeling, Holmsby found that the mysterious master of the
subterranean home of modern magic had noiselessly entered the room.  "I
ought to have warned you of the risk of tampering with the lighting
arrangements of this apartment.  Pray, allow me."

Taking a small instrument resembling an egg-cup from his pocket the
unknown held Dick's head with one hand and vigorously massaged his
forehead.  Tresillian afterwards confessed that it was like the
application of a freezing mixture; but in a very short space of time
his eyesight was restored to its normal state.

"Now, gentlemen, we will discuss the situation," remarked the stranger,
motioning to Reginald and Dick to seat themselves.  "I fear that I owe
you an explanation."

"To come more to the point," said Holmsby, with more impatience than
discretion, although his anxiety might be regarded as being sufficient
to justify his unintentional rudeness.  "Are we to be detained here
against our will?  Why were we subjected to an unwarrantable attack by
your men?  Were you justified in so doing?"

The unknown raised his hand in a sort of dignified protest.

"Really, Mr. Holmsby, you overwhelm me with a torrent of questions," he
remarked in even tones.  "Please remember that I am master here, and
need not reply to a single question unless I choose.  You complain that
you have been assaulted and forcibly detained here: is not that so?
Good: that is your view of the matter.  Now listen to mine.

"I am not going to mince matters, for no useful purpose will be served
thereby; so I tell you that I mean to detain the pair of you until the
preparations for the work I have in hand are complete."

"This is an outrage--an abominable outrage," exclaimed Holmsby.

"Undoubtedly, but you see the punishment fits the crime; but to proceed
with my explanation.  First let me introduce myself as Don Miguel
O'Rourke.  Perchance the name is familiar to you?"

"Oh yes," replied Reginald.  "Then you are the ex-President of the
Republic of Calderia?"

"At present I am the ex-President," assented O'Rourke, with a courtly
bow.  "But what I hope to be in the future remains to be seen."

It was not so many years ago that the internal dissensions of the South
American Republic of Calderia were the talk of the civilised world.
President O'Rourke--a descendant of the famous Irishman who, with
Cochrane, O'Higgins, and other British half-pay officers, had aided the
South American colonies of Spain to throw off the tyrannical yoke--was
no doubt a most capable ruler; only, he lived before his time.
Educated in London, Paris, and Seville, he showed promise at an early
age of exceptional ability, and at twenty-five found himself installed
in the Presidency of Nalcuanho, the capital of Calderia.  His regime
was strictly impartial, but his reforms were either regarded as too
advanced by one section of the Calderians or else not sufficiently
sweeping to meet with the approbation of the ultra-progressive party.
Then, with the characteristic swiftness of the South American
temperament, came a revolution.  O'Rourke had to flee, taking refuge on
board a Dutch man-of-war that happened to be lying off the coast on her
voyage to Surinam.  Ere long the want of the ex-President's acumen
began to be felt by both parties, although a section of the Extremists
retained its hostile policy.  Calderia called for its former ruler--but
called in vain.  Don Miguel O'Rourke seemed to have vanished off the
face of the earth--now he stood face to face with Sub-Lieutenant
Reginald Holmsby in the depths of a Cornish mine.

"Now to resume my explanation," continued O'Rourke.  "I came here and
bought a piece of ground in this county, including any minerals that
might be lying underneath the soil.  It is well known that under
Sampson's Down is a mine that years ago was flooded out by the sea.  I
found that my anticipations were realised; the place was admirably
situated for the purpose of conducting various experiments and
scientific research.  Naturally I wished to live in obscurity, but as
far as I know, I broke no law of the country that had given me shelter.
The place is even open to examination by your Board of Trade Officials
and Inspectors of Mines, although, mind you, I did not go out of the
way to show them the means whereby I could descend the shaft.  Three or
four times they troubled me with their attentions, till finding nothing
but an apparently ladderless pit without machinery for ascending or
descending, they regarded me as a kind of recluse or even a harmless
madman--and left me severely alone.

"So far, so good.  My work progressed, and I succeeded in perfecting
machines capable of travelling either in air or under water--practical
amphibians, in fact.  But, concerning this portion of my narrative, I
have said enough for the present.  Then it came to my knowledge that
two of my most implacable opponents had almost succeeded in tracing my
hiding-place.  Their avowed object was either to take my life or to
destroy the work I had in hand, which they rightly guessed was to
further my plans for recovering my position in Calderia.

"Naturally I took due precautions; but, owing to a blunder on the part
of my men, you were mistaken for the rascals----"

"I think we can enlighten you on the movements of your enemies," said
Holmsby, and he proceeded to give a description of the encounter with
the two foreigners at St. Piran's Round.

"You certainly did me a good turn, though perhaps unconsciously,"
remarked O'Rourke.  "But, on the other hand, what do I find?  While you
were lying unconscious, under the effect of a certain drug that by
inoculation instantly produces utter insensibility, an agent of mine
brought me word that an officer of the Naval Intelligence Department,
accompanied by an assistant, had been sent down to report on my
movements.  Why?  I know not.  In all my nocturnal excursions I have
carefully avoided passing over military stations, in spite of reports
to the contrary that from time to time have appeared in the papers.
There is no law in England prohibiting a man from constructing an
airship, aeroplane, or submarine, provided he conforms with the Foreign
Enlistment Act and measures of similar import.  At least, if there be,
I've never heard of it.  Now, suppose my secret reaches the ears of the
British Admiralty: my work would be totally undone; unscrupulous
so-called inventors would steal my plans, my inventions, my brains, and
claim the credit.  Therefore, since you have fallen into my hands, I
hope you will realise the importance of my resolve to keep you until I
deem it safe to do otherwise."

"I quite see your point, señor," said Reginald calmly.  "But I trust
you realise that by detaining us against our will you make yourself
liable to severe penalties--illegal imprisonment is a serious offence,
you know."

"I am perfectly prepared to accept that risk," replied O'Rourke, as he
lit a cigarette.  "'Tis but a matter of a few days."

"In a day or so our disappearance will be noticed and a search party
will be sent out."

"They may be fortunate: _quien sabe_?" rejoined the ex-President with a
deprecatory shrug.  "But now, gentlemen, pray be sensible.  Make
yourselves at home, as it were.  If you like I can materially aid your
mission by showing you the wonders of Sampson's Mine.  The knowledge
will be invaluable to you, and you have my full permission to make
whatever use of it that you may think fit--when the time comes.  Come
now, your hand on it."

There was something about Don Miguel O'Rourke's magnetic personality
that Reginald and his comrade found impossible to resist.  Both men
rose and held out their hands.

"Capital!" exclaimed the Calderian approvingly, as he grasped their
outstretched hands in turn.  "Now, gentlemen, this way.  The secret
wonders of Sampson's Mine are at your service."




CHAPTER VIII

A MODERN MAGICIAN

"Do not hesitate to ask any questions, gentlemen," remarked Don Miguel.
"But, on the other hand, do not take it in a wrong light should I be
compelled, for my own sake, to withhold any information that I may deem
prudent to do so.  Here you see some strange-looking objects."

Their guide pointed to a small glass case on the wall of the room, in
which were several indiarubber discs, each with a fine metal point
projecting slightly from its centre.

"They look like vacuum arrow-heads--the kind of toy I used to play with
as a small boy," said Dick.

"They are certainly meant to adhere to the palm of one's hand by
suction--they are injectors.  The fluid--composed of an extract from
the deadly poisonous upas tree--passes through a minute tube in the
needle.  The operator merely makes one of the discs adhere to the palm
of his hand and the faintest puncture in the skin of the person
operated on is sufficient."

"Good heavens!  Do you mean to say you kill people in that diabolical
fashion?" exclaimed Tresillian.

"If that were the effect of those implements, neither of you would be
here now," replied O'Rourke.  "The most deadly poison can, under the
fostering influence of science, be made to act beneficially to mankind.
Thus, one injection of that liquid produces total insensibility.  Its
application is not accompanied by that horrible strangling sensation
produced by the use of chloroform, neither are the after-effects so
distressing---in fact, there are no after-effects, as you must have
realised when you smoked those strong Havana cigars."

Opening the door, Don Miguel motioned to his involuntary guests to
precede.  They found themselves in a large brilliantly-lighted cave,
measuring nearly one hundred yards in length by about thirty in width,
the roof arching irregularly to a height of nearly fifty feet.  The
floor for nearly half the length of the cave was smooth and gradually
sloping, but a rough wall, six feet in height, hid the remaining
portion from the sight of the two comrades.  The nearest part of the
floor was occupied by several machines all running at high speed and
emitting a deep hum, but neither Tresillian nor Holmsby could discover
their motive power.  There was a remarkable absence of belts and
shafting; each machine seemed to be actuated independently of the
others, while one man at each seemed sufficient to control the whirling
complicated mass.

"What are those lamps?" asked Tresillian, pointing to one of the globes
that had previously been the means of nearly blinding him.

"My own invention," replied O'Rourke, raising his voice above the roar
of the machinery.  "That I will explain later.  Now be careful where
you tread."

Throwing open a thin sound-proof door in the wall of the cave the
Calderian entered, waited till his guests had followed, and closed the
door.  The place was pitch dark and as silent as the tomb.

"Be careful," he cautioned.  "There is a pool of water just beyond
where you are standing.  Now, look upwards."

The twain did so.  Far above their heads they could discern a small
circular disc of pale light, through which a star was faintly visible.

"The mouth of the shaft: two hundred and fifty odd feet deep.  You
certainly were not devoid of pluck to attempt its descent, Mr. Holmsby,
but at the same time I cannot congratulate you upon discretion.  Had it
not been for the action of my men you would assuredly have been dashed
to pieces, for the shaft is only partially laddered, and the rungs are
quite rotten in places.  As it was, both of you finished your descent
in this pool of water, and that was the reason why you found yourselves
in bed."

"But how----?"

"Never mind that question at present.  I know exactly what you were
going to ask.  The means of ascent and descent I will tell about in due
course."

"It's perfectly quiet here," remarked Reginald.  "Yet I could hear the
roar of the sea from above."

"Quite possible.  At that moment the sound-proof door must have been
open for some purpose, although we never prolong that operation.  It is
to my advantage to stifle any sound that might lead to the discovery of
my subterranean workshop."

Re-entering the main cave Don Miguel led the way towards the
farthermost recesses.  Beyond the stone wall the floor was several feet
lower, and here were rows of retorts glowing in an electric furnace,
while on a long bench were hundreds of small cylinders, apparently made
of earthenware, surrounded by an aura of pale blue light.

"What do you imagine this to be?" asked O'Rourke, picking up a
spherical piece of iron from the floor and handing it to Holmsby.

"Looks like an obsolete twelve-pounder shell," replied the
sub-lieutenant, handling the metal with evident distrust.

"That is exactly what it is," agreed the ex-President.  "See, I remove
this plug and you will find water inside.  Now, watch."

Drawing on a pair of insulated gloves, Don Miguel took one of the small
earthenware cylinders from the bench, deftly inserted it in the iron
sphere, and replaced the plug.  Then, even as the two Englishmen
watched, the mass of iron began to rise, slowly and surely.  Up and up
it went till it bumped lightly against the crown of the arched cave.

Spellbound, the comrades gazed at this inexplicable phenomenon until
Holmsby gasped, "You've discovered something wonderful, by Jove!  The
force of gravity is absolutely overcome."  The inventor beamed with
self-complacent pride.

"'Tis the most important discovery of the age," he replied.  "Now what
do you think is the force that enables a heavy body to be lifted by a
self-contained agent?  Well, you will never guess: it's a secret
compound which I have called 'Helia,' and to be brief it is an extract
from the by-products of radium.

"Probably you are aware that immense quantities of
pitch-blende--approximately eight tons--are required in order to
produce one gramme of radium chloride.  A decade ago the total quantity
of radium known to be in existence was less than a quarter of an ounce.
Now I have found that helia, which is compounded in fairly generous
quantities from pitch-blende, when brought into contact with sea-water
produces a gas that has approximately a thousand times as much
lifting-power as an equal quantity of hydrogen.  Unfortunately the
constant waste of substance and energy in helia is quite noticeable--a
contrast to the non-apparent diminution of radium--so constant charges
have to be used in order to keep a heavy body afloat in the air.  You
will observe that the metal globe is already showing signs of returning
to earth."

"Wonderful!" was all that Reginald could exclaim, while Tresillian was
quite beyond words.

"I also use helia in conjunction with other gases for the purpose of
producing light.  Each of those globes contains sufficient light for
six weeks without recharging, the substance being contained in a vacuum
in order to still further reduce the natural leakage.  Now, here is
another object to which I wish to call your attention."

Don Miguel held up for inspection a metal case about four inches in
length, with one concave face.  To it were attached four broad straps
provided with buckles.

"Looks like a kind of military water-bottle," remarked Reginald.  "But
ten to one I'm wrong."

"You are," agreed O'Rourke.  "This receptacle is a man-lifting
apparatus, and contains sufficient helia to enable a person to leap
fifty feet in the air.  It is quite possible to increase the size of
the charge, but then the danger arises that the lifting-power would be
too great, the user might lose his head and, when at a great height,
release too much helia with disastrous results.  As a matter of fact
just enough is used to counteract the force of gravity."

"Then that is how your men descended the cliff?"

"You saw them?" asked Don Miguel.

"Yes, the other day when we were lying off the cove in a fishing-boat."

"The incident was never reported to me," said the ex-President
meditatively.  "I must inquire further into this, for a public
exhibition of the important force at my command is the last thing I
wish for at present.  Do you know, Mr. Holmsby, that you owe your life
to this invention?  One of my men seized you just as you were about to
descend to a rotten step in the shaft ladder.  Even the rope would not
have saved you, since your strength would have been exhausted long
before you climbed to the surface.  You were rendered insensible by
inoculation, and brought down--with more force than desirable, I
fear--while your companion was, owing to the misunderstanding which I
have already explained, subjected to the same treatment."

"That is what I wanted to know," said Holmsby.  "I was just conscious
of being dragged from the ladder and falling into space--then
unconsciousness.  But, by Jove, of what incalculable service would that
invention prove to an aviator."

"Undoubtedly.  As a matter of fact I cannot claim to be the sole
originator of the discovery.  Waechterlinck in 1910 and Hauptmann in
the following year nearly stumbled upon the use of helia, but each in a
desire to circumvent his rival, issued a treatise on the subject ere
their researches were materialised.  In the interests of humanity I
even went so far, at the great risk to the success of my great mission
in life, as to hint of my discovery to the principal Aero clubs of
Great Britain, France, and the United States--but in each case my
offers were curtly declined.  No doubt I was thought to be a madman--a
common verdict on most of the world's greatest inventors until time has
vindicated the truth of their discoveries."

By this time O'Rourke and his two companions had reached the apparent
end of the cave.  Here a wall of roughly-hewed granite stopped all
further progress.

"Beyond this partition is the flooded portion of the mine," explained
Don Miguel.  "The water stored within is sufficient to run the electric
dynamos for sixteen hours per day.  For the remaining eight we have to
make use of the rising tide, which here attains a height of seventeen
feet.  You see we are still obliged to press electricity into our
service, although before long I hope to have stored sufficient energy
in the form of helia to make us independent of dynamic power.  Now,
gentlemen, behold my masterpiece."

As he spoke O'Rourke thrust aside a sliding hatch on the floor,
disclosing a deep vault that was one blaze of light.  Kneeling down
both Englishmen leant over the edge of the opening.  Below them they
saw the afterpart of a huge, grey-coloured object that might be either
airship or submarine.

"The _Amphibian_," announced the inventor.




CHAPTER IX

THE "AMPHIBIAN"

With professional eagerness and curiosity Reginald Holmsby gazed at the
monster with ill-disguised astonishment.  Oblivious of the fact that he
was in danger of losing his balance and falling a sheer distance of
fifty feet, he remained in rapt admiration at the very brink of the
yawning pit.

"Perhaps you would like to make the close acquaintance of my _chef
d'oeuvre_?" asked Don Miguel.

"I should," replied Reginald eagerly.

"Then you must trust yourself to the merits of my gravity-neutraliser,"
continued the inventor, providing three of the small metal cases from a
receptacle fixed to the wall.

In a few seconds the three men were equipped, the device being securely
fastened to their backs by means of the straps.

"Be careful not to walk with a springing step--glide rather," continued
Don Miguel, as he proceeded to charge the apparatus on Tresillian's
back.  Reginald watched him curiously.

Opening a small panel by means of a powerful cam-action slide, O'Rourke
deftly thrust in a small cylinder of porous clay and instantly sealed
it.  This done he performed a similar operation with the case strapped
to Holmsby's back, and instantly the sub-lieutenant became aware of the
upward force of the imprisoned chemical.

"You saw what I did?  Good!" exclaimed Don Miguel.  "Now do you think
you could do the same for me?  Otherwise I must send for one of my men."

"I'll try," replied Holmsby, and, following the examples that he had
already seen performed, he succeeded in charging the Calderian's
gravity-neutraliser.

"Let yourself drop," said O'Rourke, and, without hesitation, though he
involuntarily closed his eyes, Reginald stepped over the edge of the
pit.

Unfortunately in his grim determination the young officer stepped too
eagerly, and instead of falling slowly he rose a good twenty feet in
the air, descending some distance on the other side of the opening to
the lower cave.  Nor were his antics ended on his descent, for
mechanically he bent his legs to break his supposed fall, with the
result that he again performed a prodigious leap.  Eager to aid his
comrade, Tresillian made a rush forward, only to find himself soaring
upwards.  So vigorous had been his "kick-off" that he brushed the roof
of the cavern.

"I think I gave you fair warning," remarked Don Miguel without the
suspicion of a smile, when the twain had somewhat gingerly gained the
floor.  "Now, watch me."

With a springless gliding motion the inventor slipped off the edge of
the opening.  Then, slowly, as if being lowered by an invisible wire,
he descended to the lower level.  Profiting by his example, the two
Englishmen followed.

"There is no necessity to empty the charges," observed O'Rourke.  "They
are sufficient to last four hours at the least--but be careful to
secure the belts round the iron bar.  Otherwise we would have to have
recourse to the somewhat unpleasant operation of being hauled up by a
rope."

Having taken off and secured the gravity-neutralisers, the two
Englishmen walked up to the mysterious vessel, which they had
beforetimes seen and heard about.  Now it rested in front of them: its
wondrous secret was to be theirs.

Its fabric consisted of a smooth, rigid metallic substance, lined with
thin asbestos sheeting to withstand the effect of expansion by heat
without the necessity of having to provide safety valves for the
compressed gas.  The bows were somewhat snub, the afterbody thinning
off gracefully to a sharp point.  Right through the centre of the bow
projected a shaft, on the end of which was a two-bladed metal
air-propeller.

Aft were the horizontal and vertical rudders and a four-bladed
propeller for use when submerged.  There was no "nacelle" or car, but
in the place of a conning-tower on the highest part of the convex
surface a long narrow metal hatch, projecting barely three feet beyond
the outer skin, extended fully ten feet in a fore and aft direction.
This raised part was provided with glass inspection-holes or scuttles.

The craft lay on a cradle that had been hauled up an inclined plane,
the slipway disappearing beneath the surface of the water that covered
the farther-most recesses of the lower cave, but a constant agitation
of the water showed that there was direct communication between it and
the open sea.

This much Holmsby took in with the eye of an expert, but there were
several points on which he could not find a satisfactory solution.

"How can that huge envelope--for such I must term it, successfully
withstand the pressure of the water when submerged, and also possess
sufficient lightness--even taking into consideration the lifting-power
of your helia--to rise in the air?" he asked.

"The outer skin is not intended to be subjected to any great strain
under water," replied the inventor.  "It merely contains the helia,
being divided into ten gas-tight compartments, six of which, when
charged, being sufficient to raise the ship.  The others are to be used
in case of emergency should a leakage occur.  Inside the outer fabric
is the submarine proper--built of enormously strong plates of duralium.
Supposing the _Amphibian_ is in the air and wishes to dive beneath the
sea.  The helia is allowed to escape and the airship sinks till it
rests on the surface of the water.  Unfortunately it is not yet
possible for a vessel to make a direct dive from the air into the sea
or vice versa--unless, of course, she is an utter wreck: but that is
outside my subject.  So the _Amphibian_ has to rest on the surface for
a few minutes while water is rushing into the compartments of the outer
envelope to take the place of the expelled helia.  The pressure of the
water is resisted by the walls of the submarine, while at the same time
the presence of a homogeneous fluid inside and outside the outer skin
of the airship preserves it from injury.  Diving is performed by the
action of the horizontal rudders, the submerged craft having a slight
reserve of buoyancy."

"But when the vessel has to ascend from beneath the surface?"

"The process is practically reversed.  The introduction of a cylinder
of helia into each of the six compartments causes the gas to expand in
contact with the salt water, and the tremendous lifting force is
brought into action.  Simultaneously the water is expelled through the
automatic valves, and the vessel immediately soars skywards."

"I notice that you have two propellers: the one for submarine work is
not, of course, used in air, but how about the aerial propeller when
the vessel is submerged?  A twin-blade of comparatively large area
would be a hopeless drag in the water, besides being easily damaged
should it come into contact with any substance that would not otherwise
cause harm in the ordinary course of events."

"I agree with you.  But I have already made due provision for this
contingency.  Before the _Amphibian_ dives the aero-propeller folds
back upon the shafting, and the whole is withdrawn into the outer
envelope."

"If it is not troubling you too much," said Tresillian, who hitherto
had been listening and observing in silence, "I should like to ask you
one or two questions."

"As many as you like: your interest is a source of satisfaction to me
and a testimony to my work," replied Don Miguel grandiloquently.

"But are you not afraid to explain all this, knowing the nature of my
visit?" asked Holmsby.

"Afraid?  No!" exclaimed the inventor, with the utmost conviction.
"You have yet a lot to learn ere you master the supreme secret of the
_Amphibian_.  But, to speak bluntly, I should not be at all surprised
if your Admiralty did not make a hard shot at it.  You English were
ever good at copying.  History proves it.  You 'adapted' your vaunted
British bayonet from the French; from the same nation you copied the
lines of their fastest frigates in the days of Wooden Walls; in the
submarine you improved upon an American invention; you waited till the
first aeroplanes came to something like perfection ere you picked the
brains of the American Wright Brothers.  It's a nice policy to wait and
see, but hardly honest.  However, that's neither here nor there at
present--what did you wish to ask me, Mr. Tresillian?"

"If the outer skin completely encloses the submarine, how do you manage
to steer the _Amphibian_ under water; and how do you contrive to
navigate her in the air?  Surely it is essential to be able to observe
what is taking place beneath the craft?"

"You will be better able to understand my reply if we board the
_Amphibian_, Mr. Tresillian; so we may as well do so at once."




CHAPTER X

THE WONDERFUL NUTSHELL

"We'll find a ladder on the starboard side," continued O'Rourke.  "My
men are still at work with the finishing touches, besides repairing
some slight damage sustained during our last experimental trip."

As the three men made their way under the tapering stern Holmsby caught
sight of a familiar object lying on the slipway.  It was the anchor and
cable of the fishing-boat they had hired.

"That is the cause of our last mishap," remarked the inventor, pointing
to the anchor.  "Our stern propeller bracket fouled this kedge as we
were returning to the cave."

"So I believe," replied Reginald.  "It is the anchor of the boat we
were in.  You nearly towed us beneath the surface."

"Oh!  Might I ask what you were doing in Sampson's Cove?"

"Keeping a look out for your return," replied Holmsby frankly.  "You
see we were not disappointed."

"Your curiosity cost us several hours of labour," said Don Miguel.
"However that is now a thing of the past.  By the bye, here is the
tunnel communicating with the open sea.  When I bought the place there
was only a small opening, but with the aid of dynamite and four skilled
Italian divers--who were brought here without knowing where they
were--we soon contrived to enlarge the tunnel to suit my purpose.  The
materials for building the _Amphibian_, together with the necessary
plant, were conveyed to the cave in a submarine of an antiquated
pattern that I bought at a sale at Richmond Navy Yard, U.S.A.  We still
use the submarine for similar purposes.  At present she is lying in a
cave to the left of this tunnel."

Ascending a ladder that had been temporarily placed against the bulging
sides of the _Amphibian_, the three men gained the long, narrow raised
platform.  Here Holmsby noticed that there were sockets fitted to
receive rails and stanchions, although the latter had been unshipped in
order to facilitate the vessel's passage through the submarine tunnel.

"You are now standing upon part of the _Amphibian_ that cannot be
described as belonging to either the aerial or the submarine portion.
It is, in fact, a sort of combined conning-tower, mechanical appliance
chamber, aerial observation station, and emergency compartment.  It
extends right through the central portion of both airship and
submarine, and, in case of stern necessity, when the vessel is
submerged, the whole can be released and brought to the surface.  When
in the air this deck forms a promenade, and, as you can see by the
mountings, we are able to fit a light pair of quick-firing guns fore
and aft."

Throwing back a metal hatch, lined with indiarubber, Don Miguel
motioned to his guests to descend.

"You are now in the uppermost storey or the conning-tower," he
continued.  "There are observation scuttles on all sides, each
commanding a clear view above the turtle-deck.  This lever controls the
elevating planes; this the vertical rudders.  Here is the switch that
actuates the submarine propelling machinery, while close to it are the
appliances for feathering the aerial propeller or starting its shafting
as the case may be."

"What is the motive power?" asked Holmsby.

"Radio-electricity: we carry a supply sufficient to take the
_Amphibian_ for a distance of 12,000 miles, or, roughly, half the
circumference of the globe.  Under water the radius of action would be
about one-fifth, or enough to take the vessel across the Atlantic."

"These discs," he continued, pointing to ten red-capped pushes of about
half an inch in diameter that were ranged in two rows on a
switch-board, "are the termination of the tubes through which the helia
charges are sent to the respective ballonettes of the airship.  Until
ready for use the charges are stored in an air-tight magazine
underneath the floor you are now standing on.  To keep them perfectly
dry is absolutely essential: indeed, I shudder to think what the effect
would be if water came in contact with that vast store of potential
energy."

The second storey was, in the absence of scuppers, lighted
artificially.  Here were the water-tight doors communicating with the
fore and aft parts of the submarine, and also the officers' quarters.

Opening one of the slides Don Miguel showed the two Englishmen the
cavern-like interior of the forepart of the metal-sheathed vessel.

"Here the crew, nine in number, have their quarters.  When submerged
the air is purified by oxygen; when the _Amphibian_ is above the
surface fresh air is supplied by means of automatic ventilating pipes
leading through the gas chambers of the airship," observed the
inventor.  "Here, too, are the torpedoes for submarine attack, eight of
them charged with a high explosive and having an effective range of
8000 yards, being stored under that raised bench.  You can now see the
shafting of the aerial propeller.  On either side of it are the two
torpedo tubes."

"Have you no means of using aerial torpedoes?" asked Reginald.

"Yes, those will be shown you shortly; meanwhile you might as well have
a look at the afterpart of the submarine, for there the propelling
machinery is placed."

Retracing his way to the central section, O'Rourke carefully secured
the water-tight panel.  Then, crossing to the opposite side of the
compartment, he opened a similar door.

"Is that all the propelling machinery?" asked Holmsby in surprise, as a
small six-cylindered motor met his eye.

"More than sufficient to drive the _Amphibian_" replied the
ex-President, with a smile.  "If you could but see those running at
2000 revolutions per minute."

"But surely that is impossible as regards the aero-propeller.  And,
besides, the shaft ends here, whereas the aero-propeller is for'ard."

"Quite so," assented Don Miguel.  "Part of the aero-shaft passes
outside the central compartment and is geared up to the main shafting
for the submarine propeller, thus giving the former a speed of not more
than 250 revolutions.  Also, had the shafting of both propellers been
direct it would have to pass through the central compartments, and in
that case it would be impossible to use that portion of the vessel as
an emergency compartment.  Now we will make an inspection of the
lowermost storey, and then I think you will have had a very general
idea of my masterpiece."

Descending the third ladder the two Englishmen found themselves
standing upon a slightly concave floor, this compartment also being
artificially lighted.

"These are four thick plate-glass observation holes at your feet,"
explained O'Rourke, "only as the _Amphibian_ is on the slip we have to
keep them covered by metal plating.  Through them we can, when in the
air, command a distinct view of all that is going on beneath us.  Here
is the bomb-dropping gear.  Observe these indicators.  This one gives
you the speed of the ship through the air, to which must be added or
subtracted, as the case may be, the velocity of the wind.  Thus,
suppose we are travelling at 30 miles per hour in a northerly direction
against a northerly wind of 15 miles per hour.  That means that we are
actually moving over the ground at a rate of 15 miles per hour.  That
is simple enough.  Now, in addition, when dropping a bomb, we have to
take into consideration the motion imparted to the projectile by the
speed of the airship.  Thus, suppose we were to drop a bomb when
travelling at 60 miles an hour.  The instant the missile left the mouth
of the dropping apparatus it would have a tendency to travel in a
horizontal direction at the same speed, as well as being taken
earthwards by gravity.  In a few seconds the latter force completely
overcomes the former, but in its flight the missile's course is that of
a parabola.  This indicator, therefore, enables us to automatically
make due allowance for the horizontal motion of the airship and ensures
the bomb hitting the mark.  Now I think I have shown you all that I can
possibly do within the bounds of discretion, so we will now return to
the quarters temporarily assigned to you."

Without another word Don Miguel led the way to the place where they had
left the gravity-neutralisers.  Donning these, the Englishmen succeeded
in following their guide to the upper cave.

Here a man approached the ex-President and, with a salute, handed him a
sealed envelope.

Don Miguel tore it open and read the contents.  As he did so a deep
flush overspread his olive features.

"Gentlemen, your term of detention will be shorter than I anticipated,"
he exclaimed.  "I have just received information that Calderia is
threatened by its powerful neighbour the Republic of Talpico.  Now is
my chance: to-night the _Amphibian_ leaves for the seat of hostilities.
Ere she leaves you will be escorted to the summit of the cliffs and
allowed to return to Penkerris.  Meanwhile, as I have urgent work on
hand, I must ask you to return to your quarters until I am at liberty
to entertain you."


"Look here, Dick," exclaimed Holmsby, when they found themselves alone,
"I'm going to see this thing through."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, haven't I a sort of roaming commission?  We'll have a cruise in
the _Amphibian_.  You can square the matter all right with your chief,
and we'll have an exciting voyage, I can assure you."

"I'm game," replied Tresillian resolutely.  "But will Don Miguel
O'Rourke consent?"

"Where there's a will there's a way," said Reginald, his eyes fixed
upon the glass case that hung upon the wall.  "I'll ask him.  If he
consents, so well and so good--if he does not, I'll compel him by fair
means or foul to have two Englishmen aboard the _Amphibian_ on her
voyage to Calderia."




CHAPTER XI

HOLMSBY GAINS HIS POINT

"Fair means or foul," repeated Dick slowly.  "What do you mean?"

"What I said.  Is there anything to prevent us threatening him?  If
needs be we can use one of these injectors, make him insensible,
barricade the door, and hold him prisoner till he submits to our terms."

"Won't do, Rex, my boy," replied Tresillian.  "Think it over.  It
savours of treachery, flinging yourself upon an unsuspecting man and
rendering him insensible----"

"But he did not hesitate to serve us the same," expostulated Holmsby.

"Acting under a misapprehension.  Remember he freely admitted his
error."

"Well, go on."

"Besides, Rex, you've forgotten one incident that makes this intended
_coup de main_ impossible."

"What was that?"

"We shook hands with him."

"Oh!"  There was a sincere tone of contrition in Holmsby's exclamation.
He now realised, through his companion's arguments, that any course
that necessitated force or coercion would be unworthy of the conduct of
an English gentleman.  Hitherto in his impulsiveness he had overlooked
this fact.

"Hang it all, man," he continued.  "You're right.  But we must manage
it somehow.  Think, man, think as you never did before and find a
feasible plan for getting on the right side of Don Miguel O'Rourke."

Thus adjured Dick Tresillian tried to form some idea of the best means
of diplomatically tackling the ex-President.  But though he was on his
mettle the young Civil servant was bound to confess that his train of
thoughts led to no satisfactory solution of the problem.

"Come on, come on!" exclaimed Holmsby impatiently, after he had sat in
a chair for a full half-hour.  "Something must be done.  Let's review
the situation: violence barred; strategy doubtful.  Here!  Can't we
manage to stow ourselves on board?"

"We might, but to what purpose.  O'Rourke would then be perfectly
justified in setting us ashore on the first convenient land: convenient
no doubt to him, but mighty awkward for us.  We might be hopelessly
stranded, thousands of miles from home, with scarce ten pounds between
us, and nothing gained as far as knowledge of the _Amphibian's_
capabilities as a fighting machine are concerned.  My own opinion is
that O'Rourke is a perfect gentleman, but if angered he would prove a
nasty customer to tackle."

"Well, we must see what we can do by asking him point-blank.  That's
the only way I'm----"

Holmsby's words were left unfinished, for at that moment the door was
thrown violently open and O'Rourke rushed in, thrust the door to, and
attempted to wedge it with his foot.  But all to no purpose--with an
irresistible heave the door was wrenched from its hinges, and a great
hulking man, his face inflamed with passion, burst into the room,
brandishing a heavy, keen-edged machete in his hand.

Without taking the slightest notice of the two Englishmen the would-be
murderer bounded upon the ex-President, snarling the while like a beast
of prey.

Raising a chair with both hands the agile Calderian attempted to parry
the savage thrusts of his opponent.  It was touch and go, for in his
fanatical rush the hulking body of the attacker well-night swept the
lightly-built form of the ex-President from off his feet.

Up went the blade once more.  In another instant...

But by this time the two Englishmen had regained their scattered wits,
for the sudden and unexpected entry of Don Miguel and his assailant had
taken them totally aback.  Flinging himself upon the giant, Holmsby
grasped the man round the neck and pinioned his right arm to his side,
while Tresillian seized the man's wrist in his iron grip, receiving a
clean cut in his own arm as he did so.

"Hold him tight!" exclaimed O'Rourke breathlessly, as he slipped from
the front to the rear of his assailant.

It was a difficult business, for the man was as powerful as a gorilla,
his rage adding to his strength.

Holmsby was on the point of shouting to O'Rourke to help secure the
struggling maniac--for that he practically was--when out of the corner
of his eye he saw the ex-President dart to the wall-case and extract
one of the injecting needles.

Awaiting his opportunity O'Rourke buried the point into the heaving
neck of his assailant, and the two Englishmen felt the ponderous
carcase, a brief instant before full of strength and uncontrollable
energy, grow limp and helpless in their grasp.

"Place him on the floor," exclaimed Don Miguel as calmly as the
exhausted state of his frame permitted.  Then, "Thank you, gentlemen,"
said he.

"Good heavens, you've killed the man," exclaimed Tresillian.

"He would certainly have knifed me but for your assistance," replied
Don Miguel.  "No, he is not dead, though he richly deserves to pay the
death penalty.  In another hour he will recover his senses.

"Remove him," he added in Spanish, addressing five or six men, who,
with their olive features grey with apprehension, had rushed to their
master's aid.  "When he comes to, place him in irons."

"You're not hurt, sir?" asked Holmsby.

"Hurt?  No: but your friend has made the acquaintance of that rogue's
machete."

"So I have," exclaimed Dick, for the first time aware that his arm was
bleeding freely.  "But it isn't much--merely a scratch."

"Let me attend to it," said O'Rourke.  "Yes, a clean cut and nothing
serious.  In a day or so it will heal."

"What, might I ask, caused that man to make such a ferocious attack
upon you?" asked Reginald, as the ex-President began to wash and dress
Tresillian's wound.

"_Caramba_, I cannot tell," was the reply.  "I had occasion to speak to
the man--his name is Jose Alini, and hitherto he has been perfectly
satisfactory--concerning the stowage of certain gear: not at all
complainingly, be it understood.  Without warning he whipped out his
machete and rushed at me, and this cabin being the nearest place where
I could hope to check his pursuit, I ran for it.  Undoubtedly you saved
my life, gentlemen, and you will not find Don Miguel O'Rourke
ungrateful.  Anything in my power that I can do for you I will right
willingly."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Holmsby, so emphatically that the inventor
started in surprise.  "Thank you, Don Miguel.  We'll hold you to your
word.  We have a request to make."

"And that is----?"

"That we may accompany you to Calderia on board the _Amphibian_, señor."

"_Caspita_!  This is the last thing I expected," exclaimed the South
American with undisguised surprise.  "Have you weighed the question
thoroughly?  _Bueno_!  My word is my bond."

"A thousand thanks, señor.  We shall be ready to start as soon as you
think fit.  Meanwhile is it possible to communicate with our friends
and our respective Heads of Department?"

"Our wireless telephone will be placed at your service.  With it you
can speak to my agent in London and he will forward any messages to
their proper destination.  Or, if you wish, you can write, and I will
see to it that the letters are safely posted."

"The first course will be preferable, I think," replied Reginald.  "We
might get a reply through before we start."

"Then there is no time to be lost, Mr. Holmsby, for we start in less
than five hours.  It is now four o'clock."

"And the Department closes at five," exclaimed Tresillian.  "There is
no time to be lost."

"There never is," replied O'Rourke oracularly.  "So if you will kindly
write out your messages I will be responsible that they are forwarded
without delay.  Now, gentlemen, I must be off once more, for there
still remains much to be done.  Meanwhile, remember that once you have
put your hands to the plough----"

At half-past eight the two Englishmen were informed by the inventor
that all preparations for the voyage were complete and that they could
now board the _Amphibian_.

"There has been no reply to any of your messages," he continued.  "I
can vouch for it that every one was sent off within twenty minutes."

"In that case we must take French leave," replied Holmsby resolutely.
"For my part I can claim that I am acting within my instructions.  You,
Dick, being here unofficially, must make the best of things."

"I suppose I must.  But, candidly, I wouldn't very much mind if I never
set eyes on that rotten old office again.  Now, I'm ready."

"Here are your revolvers and ammunition, gentlemen," said Don Miguel.
"You will pardon my action in temporarily depriving you of these, but
taking into consideration the fact that I did not know you as
intimately as I do now, the precaution must be regarded accordingly."

In the outer cave the contrast was most marked.  The machines had
ceased their shrill whirr; most of the lamps had been removed.  In the
semi-gloom the place looked ghostly.

"We're shutting down the house, you see," explained Don Miguel, with a
smile.  "Perhaps we may never require to use Sampson's Cave again,
_quien sabe_?"

Descending to the lower cave the two Englishmen found the _Amphibian_
all a-shiver under the action of her propellers, which, at a
comparatively slow speed, were being revolved to satisfy the engineers
that all was in order.  From a scuttle looking for'ard a powerful
search-light threw its brilliant white beam upon the surface of the
still agitated water.  Men were running hither and thither, on deck and
ashore, all intent upon the work of clearing away the dog-shores that
held the cradle.

"I thought you had nine men for the crew," remarked Holmsby.  "There
are at least thirty here."

"Three officers--the lieutenant, engineer, and myself--and nine men,"
replied O'Rourke.  "Including yourselves there will be fourteen persons
on board.  The others remain until the _Amphibian_ is clear of the
cave.  They will then complete the dismantling of the workshop, seal up
the stores, and take their departure in the submarine of which I have
already told you."

"Good heavens, what are you going to do with that?" asked Tresillian,
as the heavily-manacled form of the ex-President's assailant was led
across the cave.

"I have dealt with him already," replied Don Miguel.  "He will be taken
on board the submarine and placed ashore at a port where he will find
it difficult to return to Calderia in a hurry.  He will be subjected to
no further punishment, I assure you.  As a matter of fact, I
ascertained the cause of his act of violence: it was mental aberration
due to prolonged work at too close a distance from a powerful helia
lamp.  The man neglected to wear his rubber head-gear, and this was the
result."

"Poor brute!" exclaimed Holmsby, then, under his breath, he muttered,
"A jolly good job for us anyhow."

"Up with you," said O'Rourke, pointing to the ladder, and in a very
short space of time the two Englishmen were standing upon the narrow
promenade-deck of the _Amphibian_.  The inventor rejoined them, the
ladder was removed, and the vessel was ready for her long voyage.

"All clear?" shouted O'Rourke in Spanish to the men who remained.
Receiving an affirmative reply he motioned to his companions to go
below.

Here the brilliantly-illuminated conning-tower presented a somewhat
different appearance to what it had done a few hours ago.  The engineer
was at his post, testing the various switches and levers, while his
eyes frequently sought the array of indicators above the switch-board;
a subdued hum accompanied the slowly-running motors; the oscillation of
the whole vessel added to the general aspect of novelty.

"Now we are ready!" shouted the inventor, as he gained the
conning-tower and secured the massive, rubber-lined hatch-cover.  He
had to raise his voice to make himself audible above the din.  "Take up
your position at those scuttles and you will see the walls of the
tunnel quite distinctly....  Now, we're off."




CHAPTER XII

THE "AMPHIBIAN" TO THE RESCUE

A slight jerk, a barely perceptible jar as the cradle slipped down the
ways, announced to the interested Englishmen the fact that the
_Amphibian's_ voyage had commenced.

Then, as the huge bulk slid slowly into the water, came the sharp hiss
of the air that was being expelled from the outer envelope.

The engineer, with his right hand upon the starting-lever, was watching
the mercury rise in the submersion indicator.  Slowly, yet surely, rose
the silvery column till it stood at 14 metres--at which depth the
_Amphibian_ was awash.  The engineer thrust down the lever till the
needle in the dial that recorded the number of revolutions per minute
oscillated between 200 and 210, and the craft quivered under the
vibration of the powerful propeller.

Yet the _Amphibian_ forged ahead but slowly, guided by the impassive
O'Rourke, as he grasped the spokes of the wheel and kept the craft
fairly in the centre of the vast tunnel.

From where he stood at one of the scuttles on the starboard side,
Holmsby could see the weed-covered wall of the tunnel glide past under
the reflection of the powerful for'ard search-light, the displacement
of the water causing the long, dark-brown tendrils to agitate like a
nest of young serpents.

Suddenly a beam of subdued light flashed athwart path of the
_Amphibian_.  Reginald saw that it came from the conning-tower of the
submarine which was lying in the side cave, waiting to take off the
remainder of O'Rourke's men after the _Amphibian_ had left.  Then, an
instant later, the wall of the tunnel resumed its unbroken aspect.

Holmsby glanced at the ex-President.  Don Miguel seemed unconscious of
his surroundings, his whole attention was directed upon the gleaming
white disc ahead where the searchlight's rays impinged upon the top and
sides of the cavern.  Standing slightly below and in front of his chief
was the lieutenant, his long, thin hands grasping the lever actuating
the elevating planes and rudders.  As for Dick he seemed glued to his
scuttle, for, in the mirror-like reflection of the glass, Holmsby could
see his chum staring at the waving masses of seaweed as if completely
fascinated by his unwonted surroundings.

Ere the _Amphibian_ had started on her voyage, Holmsby had, with
professional force of habit, looked at the compass.  The needle then
pointed to "norte cuarto norte-este" (N. by E.); it now showed nearly
"Norte-oeste cuarto norte" (N.W. by N.), showing that the tunnel had
made a fairly sharp curve of nearly 45 degrees in less than two hundred
yards.

Looking aft, Holmsby could see nothing but an opaque body of water;
even the churning of the propeller failed to produce any phosphorescent
swirl on the agitated water; so, having investigated on all sides, he
again directed his attention ahead.

Now, even though it was night, came a faint luminosity, showing that
the open sea was not far off, and at the same time the _Amphibian_
began to develop a motion hitherto unnoticed--a kind of combined pitch
and roll, though not sufficient to cause the heeling-indicator to
register more than 1 degree.

"We are now clear of the tunnel," said Don Miguel, speaking for the
first time since the _Amphibian_ had started on her voyage.  "This
motion is due to the undertow; when we descend deeper we will be beyond
its influence."

"It must be fairly rough outside," replied Holmsby, glancing at the
submersion-gauge that stood at 19 metres.  "We are in fairly deep
water.  I didn't know such a depth existed so close inshore."

"It's merely a narrow, natural gulley not marked on the charts,"
replied O'Rourke.  "And, as you say, it is blowing not half a gale but
a whole gale from the north-east.  I was going to ascend, but under the
present circumstances I don't think it is advisable--at least till we
get a good offing."

Then, bending towards the engineer, he motioned to him to let the
motors run at full speed.

Instantly the craft, quivering like a leaf, shot forward; but as soon
as she "got into her stride," as Tresillian expressed it, the vibration
practically ceased, while the motors purred so easily that conversation
could now be carried on with comparative facility.

"I should like to let her rise," continued Don Miguel.  "You see we are
still in 13 fathoms--hardly sufficient to escape running the risk of
being smashed up by a deep-drafted steamer, though I admit the
probability is somewhat remote.  As it is, we have only 2 metres of
water under us."

"The envelope is certainly a disadvantage in that respect," replied
Reginald.

"Yes, I quite admit I ought to have reduced the height and given a
corresponding increase in length and beam.  However, when we are in
deeper water, it will not signify.  But see, there is a vessel passing
over us."

Giving the search-light a slight upward inclination, Don Miguel pointed
through the for'ard scuttle.  In the powerful beam the two Englishmen
could see the wildly-pitching heel of a tramp-steamer as her single
screw alternately raced and gripped in the heavy sea.

"No doubt her officers will enter a note in the log to the effect that
they passed through a luminous patch in Lat. 50° 15' N.; Long. 5° 25'
something W.," said the inventor.  "But I wonder if they have any idea
of what was but a few feet beneath their keel?"

"She was throwing herself about," remarked Reginald.  "But here down
below there is no indication of the weather."

"We'll soon have a sample of it, Mr. Holmsby," rejoined O'Rourke.  "We
have placed a fair space between the _Amphibian_ and the shore, so
we'll let her ascend.  But be prepared for a bit of a rough tumble: we
are bound to have it fairly thick while we are resting on the surface."

For the next few minutes all was in a state of apparent confusion--the
officers shouting, men running hither and thither as far as the limited
space permitted.  The submarine propeller ceased its rapid revolutions;
the six helia cylinders were thrust into their respective ballonettes,
while under the action of the powerful pumps the surplus water was
ejected from the outer envelope.

Like a huge bladder the _Amphibian_ was tossed upon the crests of the
mountainous waves, drifting rapidly to lee'ard the while as her crew
hastened to manipulate the air-propeller gear.  Rolling well-nigh on
her beam ends, the giant craft was almost at the mercy of the elements.
It was a risky course, for had there been a craft in her path it would
have been certain destruction.

"It is thick, by Jove!" exclaimed Reginald, bawling into his friend's
ear.  "If the aerial part of the programme is not better than the
transitory stage I would rather that the _Amphibian_ remained beneath
the surface."

"I'll be hanged if I care for it at all," admitted Dick.  "This is more
than I bargained for.  Oh!  That was a brute!" he added, as the crest
of a vicious wave caught the cork-like _Amphibian_ on her quarter and
threw her quite ten feet clear of the water.

"She's rising," replied Reginald cheerfully.  "Hold on tight."

"That's what I've been doing for the last ten minutes," gasped
Tresillian, as his legs shot from under him for the tenth consecutive
time.

Again a wave dashed against the huge bulk, only to flick harmlessly
under her.  The _Amphibian_ had begun to feel the upward force of the
helia, and was now well clear of the surface of the cauldron of
seething water.

Still she rocked as the eddying currents of air seemed to smite her on
all sides.  Then came a sharp detonation as the first cylinder fired, a
whirr, and the air-propeller shafting began to revolve.

Bringing the now tractable airship head to wind, Don Miguel allowed his
crew to take a well-earned spell ere the south-westerly course was
resumed.

"It's the first time we have attempted to rise in a gale," he
explained, turning to the two Englishmen.  "I don't think I'll try it
again, unless under stern necessity.  What it must be like ashore,
goodness only knows.  I pity any aviator or aeronaut who attempts to
try conclusions with a sixty miles an hour gale ashore."

With that Don Miguel left them to make a tour of inspection, but having
satisfied himself that all was in order he returned.

"Perhaps, gentlemen, you would like a turn on the promenade deck?" he
inquired.

Holmsby and Tresillian looked at him in amazement: surely the Calderian
was joking.

"There is no danger," continued the-ex-President.

"Danger!" exclaimed Holmsby, bridling at the suggestion.  "We are
ready, sir, to brave the elements."

"Shall we require oilskins?" asked Dick.  "You see we brought none with
us."

"I think not," replied O'Rourke.  "There are thick coats at your
disposal.  The night air at this altitude may be somewhat raw.  For
myself I will go as I am."

So saying the inventor unbolted and threw back the hinged hatch and
gained the deck.  Unwilling to seek additional protection from the
raging elements when their host had scorned to do so, the Englishmen
followed holding their caps tightly to their heads in anticipation of a
hurricane.

But to their surprise, instead of having to hold on like grim death
against a howling gale, they found themselves standing in an almost
perfectly calm atmosphere.  The stars were shining brightly, and a
barely perceptible breeze, warm in spite of the altitude, fanned their
faces.  Instinctively Holmsby looked for the Ursa Major making the
astounding discovery that the _Amphibian_ was heading dead in the eye
of the supposed north-easterly gale.

Except for the starlight and the light filtering through the scuttles,
the deck of the _Amphibian_ was in darkness.

Holmsby walked to the rail and leant over.  Far beneath him, as far as
the eye could reach, was a vast bank of rugged clouds, torn here and
there with wide ever-changing rifts.

"Have a cigar, gentlemen; it's quite safe," exclaimed Don Miguel
genially, as he produced his inseparable gold case.  "You will
appreciate a weed in this pure and mild atmosphere.  Somewhat of a
surprise, eh?"

"I suppose we have struck a stratum of calm air?" asked Dick, as he
held a lighted match in his upturned hand.

"I think not," replied the inventor, with a smile.  "Otherwise these
wind-torn clouds would be ramping past us.  As a matter of fact, we are
at this moment travelling stern-foremost over the earth at an estimated
rate of fifty-five miles an hour."

"Great Scot!" ejaculated Tresillian.  "Is that so?"

"At present we are travelling through the air at five miles per hour;
the propeller is revolving at a comparatively low rate of speed, you
will observe, barely sufficient to give the vessel steerage-way.  Her
direction is against the real direction of the wind, which we estimate
at sixty miles an hour.  By simple subtraction, we arrive at the fact
that our speed over the land--or sea, rather--is practically fifty-five
miles per hour in the same direction as the wind."

"I see," replied Dick.  "Had the propeller not been working we would be
in the position of a non-dirigible balloon floating in calm air
notwithstanding the force of the wind."

"Precisely.  Once clear of the earth, the wind being free from eddies,
there is no danger of being overcome by the wind.  It is only when
leaving or returning to earth that is dangerous."

"It never struck me in that light before."

"Probably not.  But, look, there is a light below us!"

The three men leant over the rail.  Nearly half a mile beneath them,
betwixt a rugged rent in the apparently stationary clouds, a blinking
light seemed to move in the same direction that the _Amphibian_ was
heading for, although infinitely quicker.

"A lighthouse!" exclaimed Dick.  "A fixed red light and a flashing
white one.  What is it, I wonder?"

"You've seen it times before, Dick," said Holmsby in mock reproof.
"That's Godrevy Light--a white flash every ten seconds."

"I don't remember the red light," replied Dick.

"Perhaps not, it is only visible across the reefs lying N.N.W. off the
lighthouse: consequently we are somewhere above that danger."

"You can judge by the speed that light appears to drift ahead of us
that we are travelling fairly quick," said Don Miguel.  "Already we are
half-way across St. Ives Bay."

"Why are we going so slowly and against the wind?" asked Tresillian.

"To give the crew a chance for rest.  They've been working splendidly
for nearly twenty hours.  But we are descending, I fear.  If we are not
careful we will find ourselves scraping the dirt off your Cornish
hills.  See, there is another light below us."

"A flare!" exclaimed Holmsby.  "Some vessel in distress."

"If that be so we will descend still farther," said O'Rourke
decisively.  "To aid a ship in peril is a universal duty."

So saying he led the way below, till they reached the lowermost of the
central compartments, pausing to give the engineer directions as he did
so.

Almost immediately the _Amphibian_ shot ahead, and soon attained a
velocity equal to that of the estimated rate of the gale, while,
swooping through the thick bank of clouds, she hovered a good two
hundred feet above the sea.

Meanwhile the inventor had thrust back a long sliding panel, disclosing
a large square of plate glass.

"Don't be afraid to tread on it," he remarked.  "It's tested to 400 lb.
to the square inch.  By the way, would you mind touching that switch?"

Holmsby did so, and instantly a brilliant searchlight beam was directed
vertically from the underbody of the _Amphibian_.

For a few seconds only it swept the surface of the storm-tossed sea,
illuminating the foaming breakers and the flying spindrift with silvery
light.  Suddenly Holmsby gave a warning cry:

"There she is."

With her decks almost hidden by a smother of foam lay a small ketch.
Her mainmast had gone by the board, and she was riding to the wreckage
with comparative safety for the time being, although drifting rapidly
towards the iron-bound coast.  Her mizzen was still standing, a
closely-reefed sail having been set to keep her head more to the wind,
while aft were three men clad in oilskins and lifebelts, clinging with
the strength of despair to the iron horse that crossed the deck abaft
the battened fish-well.  Lashed to the stump of the mainmast was a
still-smoking tar-barrel, but the waves had already extinguished its
warning glare.

This much Holmsby saw by the aid of a pair of night-glasses.
Instinctively he wondered how the _Amphibian_ could render aid to the
unfortunate toilers of the deep.  He looked round for O'Rourke, but the
Calderian had gone.

Presently he returned, having roused the sleeping crew.

"We are all ready, Mr. Holmsby," he exclaimed.  "You are used to this
kind of thing"--and he held up a megaphone.  "Give them a hail to tell
them to stand by for a rope."

As he spoke Don Miguel unfastened a dead-light in the floor of the
compartment and slightly to the side of the glass panel.  A perfect
whirlwind, the first audible intimation of the strength of the wind,
screamed through the aperture.

"Ahoy, there.  Stand by for a rope!" shouted Reginald in stentorian
tones.

"They can't hear us; we'll forge ahead to windward," bawled O'Rourke.
"Now, try again."

This time the hail was successful.  One of the men raised his arm, and
proceeded to make his way for'ard, followed by one of his companions.

Then from the afterpart of the _Amphibian_ a barrico, to which was
attached a stout grass hawser, was paid out, till it trailed to lee'ard
of the disabled craft.

Skilfully manoeuvred the airship forged ahead once more till the rope
dragged across the stranger's foredeck.  Once more the oil-skinned
figure raised his hand, while, with a succession of blows with an axe,
his mate cut away the raffle of cordage that held the floating gear.

With a jerk that well-nigh capsized Holmsby as he knelt at the open
dead-eye, the _Amphibian_ took the strain of the tow.

"Don't be alarmed," exclaimed Don Miguel, who had regained the
lowermost compartment.  "She'll stand it all right: this is not your
_Mayfly_."

Reginald shut his jaws tightly at these words, but the Calderian was
not slow to notice his guest's umbrage.

"Forgive me," he exclaimed; "I meant no offence.  It was merely to give
you confidence.  A thousand pardons for my ill-placed remark."

"Don't mention it," replied Reginald unhesitatingly.  "But where do you
propose taking them to?  I thought you meant to sling them aboard on a
bowline."

"It would have meant a tedious delay ere the weather moderates
sufficiently to land them," said O'Rourke.  "I would only do that as a
last resource.  No, my plan is to tow the craft into St. Ives Harbour."

"It's dead to lee'ard, and there's a heavy breaking sea between the
harbour piers," exclaimed Holmsby.  "I know the place.  Besides, with
this wind the _Amphibian_ would travel at such a speed that even if the
ketch escaped being swamped she would carry too much way and smash
herself to pieces ashore."

"You're right," assented Don Miguel.  "But what alternative can you
propose?"

"If you could spare a barrel of lubricating oil," replied Holmsby, "we
could veer the craft in----"

"Excellent," exclaimed the Calderian warmly.  "Your resourcefulness is
remarkable."

Still forging ahead the _Amphibian_ reduced her speed till the force of
the wind drove both her and the towed vessel rapidly to lee'ard, the
strain on the hawser being just sufficient to keep the ketch's head to
the breaking seas.

Now through the mirk the red sector of St. Ives light appeared to view,
while on either side the breakers thrashed themselves upon the rocks in
a smother of milk-white foam.

"Port your helm slightly, sir," cautioned Holmsby.  "That's better.
Now the light shows white.  It's straight in now."

Apprehensively the men on board the ketch cast their eyes towards the
smother of foam that lay betwixt them and safety.  _They_ knew the
danger.

The upper search-light, which hitherto had been unused during the act
of rescue, was now switched on, and its beam directed upon the massive
stone pier that now lay dead to lee'ard.  In spite of the clouds of
spray that from time to time completely hid it, the structure was black
with people, sheltering under the lee of its protecting wall, for the
lifeboat had already gone on an errand of mercy, a large brigantine
having grounded on Hayle Sands.

Meanwhile O'Rourke had ordered a barrel of oil to be brought from the
storeroom and placed on the lowermost floor close to the still-open
dead-light.  With a swinging blow of his axe one of the seamen stove in
its head and, tilting the cask, allowed the oil to fall in a steady
stream through the aperture.

In a very short space of time the oil spread over the water, beating
down the spiteful crests in a marvellous fashion, so that the rescued
craft, instead of being swept from end to end, now pitched sluggishly
in the unbroken waves.

Still slowly backing, the _Amphibian_ allowed the disabled ketch to be
veered right between the harbour lights.  Ropes were flung from the lee
of the outer pier, and, amid the hearty cheers of the crowd, the almost
exhausted crew were helped ashore.

Meanwhile the _Amphibian_, held by the hawser, was battling manfully
against the gale.  Yet, in spite of Don Miguel's most careful
helmsmanship, the huge bulk was slowly yet surely beginning to slew
broadside on.  Once the wind caught her thus, her immense lateral
structure would be swept landwards encumbered as she was by the heavy
grass rope.

"Cast off the hawser, you idiots!" yelled Holmsby through the
megaphone; but either his words failed to carry or else the people on
shore would not slip the rope from the bitts.

"We'll be broadside on in a moment," exclaimed O'Rourke excitedly.  "If
we do, there'll be some damage done; but not to the _Amphibian_.  Give
them another hail, Holmsby."

Again Reginald shouted, all to no purpose.  The _Amphibian's_ bows were
ten points off the wind.

Don Miguel gave a hurried order to his lieutenant.  The officer rushed
off and inserted another helia cylinder into one of the spare
ballonettes.  Then, as the huge vessel rose still higher in the air, a
vicious squall took her on the port bow.

In a moment she literally scudded over the pier-head.  There was a wild
stampede on the part of the spectators to escape being capsized by the
bight of the hawser--men falling over each other in all directions.

Then as the rope began once more to tauten the bight got foul of the
lighthouse at the pier-head.  The stone structure stood the strain, but
as the rope ran up the column, the lantern was swept away.  For a brief
instant there was a heavy jerk as the whole bulk of the _Amphibian_
told upon the hawser.  Something had to go--and something went.

Like pieces of matchwood the oaken bitts of the rescued ketch were torn
away from the deck, and freed from any restraining influence the
_Amphibian_ bounded upwards for a distance of nearly a thousand feet
and, ere she could be brought head to wind, had drifted far beyond the
little town.

"Great Scott!  that was a holy smash," ejaculated Dick.  "The
lighthouse knocked clean out of action."

"It was not our fault," remarked Don Miguel "We gave them fair warning.
I could, of course, have slipped the hawser; but since it is the only
one of that length and size we have on board I was not going to lose
it."

Just then one of the crew approached, saluted, and in a low, excited
tone spoke a few words to his superior.  Holmsby caught the words
"aqua" and "merma."

"Something's sprung a leak, Dick," he explained, after Don Miguel had
hurried away.  "It seems serious, I should think, judging by the
expression on his face.  If we're obliged to attempt a descent here, I
won't give much for our chances, by Jove!"




CHAPTER XIII

AN EXCHANGE OF SHOTS

"We've had a somewhat unfortunate mishap, gentlemen," announced Don
Miguel on rejoining his guests.  "Somehow or the other our main
freshwater tank has started, and its contents have escaped into the
limbers of the submarine.  Consequently, since it is not clear enough
to pump back, we must repair the tank and wait till the weather
moderates before we refill and resume our voyage.  I thought of
bringing up over the Scilly Isles."

"I believe fresh water is scarce there," said Holmsby.

"Where, then, could we replenish the tank?"

"There's a good supply in the hills above the village of Zennor," said
Tresillian.  "I know the place well.  We would also be fairly protected
from the wind, if it remained in this quarter, and there is little
chance of being seen."

"I do not mind publicity now," replied Don Miguel.  "Nevertheless your
proposal seems good.  We'll wait till daybreak and see where we are."

Accordingly the aerial propeller was run at sufficient speed to
counteract the drift caused by the force of the wind, and having given
Don Carlos, his lieutenant, instructions as to course and altitude to
be kept, Don Miguel and his guests retired to the officers' quarters.

Just before sunrise Holmsby awoke.  His companions were still sleeping
soundly, so, without disturbing them, he dressed and made his way to
the lower storey.

The sliding panel still remained open, allowing a wide view of the
country beneath to be made through the plate-glass window.

The _Amphibian_ was going ahead very slowly.  Possibly the gale had
moderated, but it certainly had changed slightly in direction, for,
instead of floating over the northern coast of the "toe" of the duchy,
the airship was immediately over the town of Penzance.

Holmsby could discern the outlines of the coast with the utmost ease,
the range of vision at an altitude of 1500 feet, embracing the whole of
Mount's Bay, including St. Michael's Mount and the villages of Newlyn
and Mousehole, while the rocks and submerged shoals of the bay were
visible with startling clearness against the pale green sea.

So rapt was his attention at the unfamiliar sight of a familiar coast
that Reginald was unaware that O'Rourke was standing behind him.

"Admiring the English Bay of Naples, Mr. Holmsby?" he asked, with his
customary affability.

"It's stunning, sir; but haven't we got a bit out of our course?"

"Nothing to speak of.  Don Carlos carried out his orders faithfully,
but the wind veered slightly in the night."

"The _Amphibian_ will cause a little excitement to the inhabitants of
Penzance, I fancy."

"It's early yet; but no doubt some of the crews of the fishing smacks
yonder have observed us.  Seamen, as you know, use their eyes: it's
part of their education.  But I'm willing to wager that I would bring
the _Amphibian_ over an inland town and descend to within five hundred
feet, without attracting attention, though, mark you, once one
individual saw us the news would spread like wildfire, and the whole
town would soon be gazing upwards with eyes and mouth agape."

"But the gale is moderating fast.  We will drop to lee'ard a little and
come up head to wind under the shelter of Land's End."

By the time the early breakfast had been done justice to, the
_Amphibian_ was over the village of St. Buryan.  As Don Miguel had
said, the wind was piping down, but its velocity was still too great to
warrant a descent.

"If I were the commander of a fleet of hostile airships operating
against your country that building would be one of the first I would
destroy," observed O'Rourke, pointing to a house snugly sheltered
betwixt two rocky headlands.

"The submarine and wireless telegraphy station of Porthcurnow--however
did you know that?" asked Tresillian.

"You English are apt to despise the poor foreigner--it's a common
failing with you, I fear," replied Don Miguel.  "But the average
foreigner--especially if he be a seaman--knows far more about your
country and its defences than ninety-nine per cent. of its inhabitants.
I once met the skipper of a German trader, who boasted, not without
cause, that he knew the position of every fort between Aberdeen and
Falmouth, and that even if the buoys were removed, he could navigate a
vessel into every harbour on the south or east coast of Great Britain.
Yes, gentlemen, the destruction of that place would mean that submarine
communication with South Western Europe and Madeira would be almost
impossible: the only working line remaining being that between Falmouth
and Bilboa--and Porthcurnow is absolutely without means of defence.
Well, you must excuse me, for I have to do the rounds: I think that is
what you naval men term it."

O'Rourke had not been absent many minutes ere he returned.

"I've just been speaking with my London agent," he exclaimed.  "He
tells me there's a fine dust up about you.  The authorities received
your message, but seem to have regarded it as a hoax.  More, there has
been a serious shooting affair at Sampson's Down, and a troop of
cavalry has been sent there from Exeter.  No further details are
obtainable at present.  _Madre_!  I wish I could get hold of a
newspaper," he added tentatively.

"The London papers do not reach Penzance till late in the forenoon,"
said Dick.  "Perhaps we might be able to get one, but at the present
moment I don't know how."

"If you don't mind, I think you would be the best man to get one," said
the ex-President.  "There's not much wind under this hill.  I'll bring
the _Amphibian_ as close to the ground as I dare and lower you by a
rope.  Take one of the gravity-neutralisers with you for your return,
in case we have to ascend, but it's not advisable to use it for the
descent.  We will await you here."

"I'll do it," replied Dick resolutely.  "But I think I know of a better
plan.  I'll walk into Penzance, get the papers, and take train to St.
Ives.  In the meantime you can take the _Amphibian_ to Zennor Hill and
carry on with the watering.  It's a fairly short distance from St. Ives
to Zennor, and I'll be back before four o'clock."

"You might take letters for us," added Reginald.  "It would be a good
plan to confirm our previous messages."

"You'll return to us, I hope?" said Don Miguel.  "Nay, pardon me,
regard my remark as unsaid."

"I'll return sure enough," replied Dick.  "Am I the man to break his
word or desert his comrade?"

Accordingly the _Amphibian_ was brought within twenty feet of the
ground above a gently-sloping field.  Tresillian, with the uncharged
neutraliser slung on his back glided down the rope and reached the
earth in safety; then, with a reassuring wave of his hand, he started
to walk rapidly in the direction of Penzance.

An hour later the wind had subsided sufficiently for the _Amphibian_ to
risk a descent.  At an elevation of less than a thousand feet, she
headed rapidly northwards towards the rugged hill that Tresillian had
pointed out.

As the huge airship passed over the main road to Land's End, Don Miguel
called Holmsby's attention to a couple of motor coaches lumbering along
towards the Mecca of Cornish tourists--the most westerly point of
England.  Through his glasses the sub-lieutenant watched the
holiday-making freight, but, sure enough, though out for sight-seeing
not one of the occupants of the coaches chanced to look aloft at the
greatest marvel of the twentieth century that was gliding serenely over
their heads.

On arriving at the chosen anchorage the _Amphibian_ manoeuvred until
the copious stream was found, then, dropping her bow grapnel, shut off
the motors and swung head to wind.  For nearly a hundred yards the
grapnel found no grip in the sun-baked turf, till, engaging in the top
stone of a weather-worn cromlech, it allowed the huge vessel to ride
motionless in the now almost still air.  Then, with a barely
perceptible jar, the _Amphibian_ sank gently to earth.

Meanwhile the crew had been actively engaged in repairing the leak in
the water-tank, and ere the landing operations were effected the work
was completed.  Four or five short lengths of hose were coupled up, a
powerful centrifugal pump was set to work, and the fresh sparkling
liquid flowed rapidly into the tank.

In less than half an hour the _Amphibian_ was ready for her ocean
passage.  All that was to be done was to wait patiently for Dick
Tresillian's return.

Holmsby and his host had taken the opportunity of "stretching their
legs ashore," but on the completion of the tank-filling operations they
boarded the _Amphibian_ and took up their position on the promenade
deck, where, by reason of the height of the aircraft, they were able to
command a long stretch of the granite road that wended its way down
Zennor Hill in the direction of St. Ives.

It was now nearly four o'clock, but still no signs of Dick Tresillian.
Presently a motor-car was to be seen breasting the spur of the hill.
When as close to the _Amphibian_ as it could possibly be without
leaving the road the car stopped and its three occupants regarded the
huge craft with apparent curiosity.

After waiting for five minutes the car was set in motion, and was soon
lost to sight in a dip in the road.

"Still no sign of your friend, Mr. Holmsby," remarked O'Rourke, after
carefully scanning the distant highway through his field-glasses.  "I
trust that he has not met with a mishap."

"Perhaps there was not a convenient train or----"  Reginald's words
were interrupted by the zipp of a bullet whistling past his ear, while,
with the sound of a sharp report, a volley of shots struck the bulky
target presented by the _Amphibian_.  Some of the missiles passed from
one side to the other of the outer envelope, others cutting their way
almost without resistance through the duralium skin flattened
themselves against the proof metal sheathing of the submarine.

"Lie down!" shouted Holmsby to his companion, and instantly Don Miguel
complied, calling at the same time for the rifles to be served out.

Through the hatchway swarmed the lithe Calderian crew, each man with a
Jansen automatic rifle.  Though they lacked the calm deliberation of
the British seaman the men were not deficient in courage.  Taking
advantage of the scanty cover afforded by the turned-up edges of the
deck, they began a rapid fire upon their practically invisible enemies,
their bullets cutting up the turf all around a natural embankment
behind which Holmsby had detected the movement of a man's cap.

Realising that the more they fired the better able were they to keep
down the fusillade from their unseen foes, the crew shot rapidly and
well.  As for their assailants they had hoped to take the airship by
surprise, send in several destructive shots, and get clear away in
their car ere the _Amphibian_ could reply; but so prompt were the crew
that their treacherous attackers were literally trapped since they
could not retire without offering a tempting mark as they drew clear of
the sheltering bank of earth.

"Who are these fellows, I wonder?" asked Don Miguel of Holmsby, who had
taken up a rifle and was joining in the firing.  "Some of your
Government friends?"

"No," replied Reginald.  "Otherwise I would not be using this rifle.
Unless I'm very much mistaken they are our old acquaintances of St.
Piran's Round with motor-car F.O. 445."

"Hello!" he exclaimed after a pause.  "There's Dick coming along the
road.  Now what's to be done?  He'll be trapped to a dead cert."




CHAPTER XIV

DICK TRESILLIAN'S ESCAPE

There was no time to be lost.  Ordering four of the seamen to follow
him, Don Miguel went below.  In a few moments the bow rope was paid out
sufficiently to enable the stern grapnel to be broken out and hauled on
board; then, as the _Amphibian_ rose twenty feet in the air, the
air-propeller began to revolve, and the gigantic vessel forged slowly
ahead, the fusillade being maintained almost as lustily as of yore.

The care which Don Miguel had taken by securing the bow anchor in the
cromlech now proved a source of difficulty, but, after a considerable
amount of manoeuvring, the refractory instrument was shaken clear and
secured to the bow of the vessel.

Thanks to the ingenious composition of the fabric of the outer
envelope, the small-bore pistol-shots from the attacking party did but
little harm, the punctures closing automatically with but little escape
of helia.  Nevertheless O'Rourke took the opportunity of inserting a
charge into the seventh ballonette.

"Now we'll punish the rascals," he exclaimed, as the _Amphibian_ soared
aloft and the men on deck now, being in no position to use their
rifles, descended to the lowermost compartment whence they could
continue their fire with good effect.  "I'll fly right over their
heads, and I'll simply wipe them out."

Seeing their danger the three assailants broke cover and ran towards
the motor-car.  One of them fell and lay writhing on the grass, but the
others, heedless and regardless of their companion's fate, gained their
desired refuge.

Now the shots from the _Amphibian_ rained thick and fast upon the car,
but the occupants had already provided for their personal safety.  An
armoured hood had been drawn over the vehicle, successfully stopping
the bullets in spite of their high velocity and powers of penetration.

Then as the _Amphibian_ headed towards the spot where Dick, scenting
danger, had stopped, the F.O. 445 started in pursuit, jolting over the
rough grass-grown down, one of the occupants using his automatic pistol
while the other steered.

Seeing the airship coming in his direction, and the car bumping along
in its wake, Dick realised that something was amiss, especially as, for
the first time, he heard the noise of the firing.

Knowing that it would be impossible to charge the gravity-neutraliser
while it was fastened to his back, Tresillian did the only thing
possible.  He strapped it across his chest, inserted the charge, and
waited, wondering what would happen if he miscalculated the speed of
the _Amphibian_ and jumped wide.

"Stand by!" shouted Holmsby, who had once more taken up his station on
the promenade-deck.  "Now!"

The bow of the _Amphibian_ was nearly fifty feet in a diagonal distance
from the waiting man: the car but a hundred yards off.  Unhesitatingly
Dick bent his knees and leapt.

Fortunately for him the occupants of the spurious F.O. 445 were
somewhat astounded at the apparently supernatural appearance of a man
leaping ten times his own length in air; but, quickly recovering from
his surprise, the man with the pistol, having just recharged the
magazine, let fly as fast as the automatic mechanism would permit.

"Good heavens!" muttered Holmsby.  "If a single shot should pierce the
neutraliser."

Strange as it may appear, he never gave one thought to the fact that
one of the stream of bullets might hit his comrade in some vital part:
he only contemplated the possibility of a fearful fall to earth should
the supporting medium be damaged.

Up shot Dick, sprawling on his back as it were, with arms outstretched,
for the lifting apparatus, being designed for the wearer's back, now
showed a tendency to capsize him.

Just as he reached the highest point of his flight, Don Miguel had the
whirling air-propeller stopped, and, adroitly manoeuvring the
_Amphibian_, brought her smartly underneath Tresillian's descending
body.  Ere Dick rebounded, Holmsby held him in his powerful grasp, safe
and sound upon the deck.

With a swift rush the _Amphibian_ shot a thousand feet skywards,
presenting a target that it was almost impossible to hit.

"Now to have my revenge," exclaimed Don Miguel, and, bending over the
hatchway, he gave orders for the bomb-dropping gear to be brought into
action.

"Watch the effect of one missile--utter annihilation," he exclaimed.

"Excuse me, señor; you must not," said Reginald quietly.

"Must not?" replied the ex-President hotly.  "Pray, why?"

"Look down," continued the sub-lieutenant.  "The car has stopped close
to that little village.  Would you, in your desire to revenge yourself
upon two worthless scoundrels, wipe out perhaps forty or fifty harmless
people?"

For an instant the two men looked each other in the face--the cool
Saxon and the impulsive Creole.

"You are right," replied Don Miguel, after a pause.  "Nevertheless I'll
have them in my power ere long."

"Ay," assented Holmsby.  "You'll have them right enough--in due course.
Even I am as anxious as you to settle old scores, but there is a time
and place for all things."

Without another word O'Rourke went below, and in a few minutes the
_Amphibian_ turned till her bow pointed south-west.  Then, with a whirr
as her propeller ran at top speed, she cleft the air in the direction
of the broad Atlantic.

The Englishmen endured the hurricane caused by the speed of the craft
through the air as long as they could, then, going below, took up their
position at the observation panel in the floor of the lower compartment.

"How did you feel when you were being shot at in mid-air, Dick?" asked
Reginald, as the last outlying rocks of the Scilly Islands were left
astern and nothing but an unbroken expanse of water was to be seen.

"A sort of a kind of a first of September partridge feeling," replied
Tresillian all in one breath.  "No more of that for me.  The shots
almost grazed my upturned nose."

"All's well that ends well," said Holmsby complacently.  "But you
brought the papers?"

"Yes, and read them.  A pretty kettle of fish, I can assure you."

"Where are they?"

"O'Rourke has them, I believe."

"I don't think I'll trouble him just yet: he seems somewhat crusty.
Tell me----"

"Mr. Holmsby!" came Don Miguel's voice from above.

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Reginald promptly, as he sprang up the ladder.

The commander of the _Amphibian_ was standing in the conning-tower,
grasping the steering-wheel.  Seated on a bench by his side was Don
Carlos, looking ghastly pale, and with his right hand swathed in
bandages.

"I regret to have to inform you that my lieutenant has been badly
wounded, Mr. Holmsby," began Don Miguel.  "During the last exchange of
shots a bullet severed two of his fingers.  Without saying a word to
anyone he continued to superintend the seamen under his orders, and it
was not until we were fairly out to sea that he collapsed through loss
of blood.  I've rendered such surgical assistance as lies in my power,
and can only trust that the natural healing will be a matter of time.
But, meanwhile, Don Carlos will be totally unfit for doing any work, so
I ask you as a favour to take his place until his recovery."

The sub-lieutenant hesitated.  Visions of the dire penalties threatened
by the Foreign Enlistment Act, the Naval Discipline Act, and a score of
other formidable Acts flashed across his mind.

"I know what you are thinking of," continued Don Miguel.  "But you need
not trouble on that score.  Whether you take up arms against a friendly
state or not depends entirely upon yourself.  There is this knowledge,
however," and the Calderian pointed to the two newspapers lying on the
table.  "Both you and your comrade are officially dead."

"What?" gasped Holmsby.

"Dead as my illustrious ancestor, Don Patrick O'Rourke, as far as the
British Admiralty is concerned, I fancy.  Read this."

Holmsby took the paper.  Printed in bold headlines he read:


  "STARTLING DEVELOPMENT IN THE CORNISH
  MYSTERY.--SUPPOSED MURDER OF TWO
  ADMIRALTY OFFICIALS.--A NAVAL
  PENSIONER FOUND DANGEROUSLY WOUNDED.

"St. Ives.  _Tuesday noon_.--Our special correspondent telegraphs that
the mysterious events centring around Sampson's Cove have developed
with startling rapidity.  On Monday night two visitors to Penkerris,
who, it appears, had been sent from the Intelligence Department of the
Admiralty to make inquiries concerning the presence of a mysterious
airship that had been seen in various parts of Cornwall, left the
village with the supposed purpose of conducting their investigations.
With them, apparently, was Lieutenant Haslar, R.N. (retired), whose
intimate knowledge would prove of great assistance to the Admiralty
officials.

"Failing to return on the following morning the services of a party of
coastguards were requisitioned and a search made of the fenced-in
portion of the ground.  Lieutenant Haslar was discovered, dangerously
wounded and insensible, outside the fence and close to the edge of the
cliff.  He was promptly removed to his house, and on the arrival of a
doctor was found to have been shot with a small-bore bullet through the
left lung.  Up to the time of wiring he has not recovered
consciousness, so that the events of the previous night must at present
be left to conjecture.

"Presumably the three men were suddenly attacked, Mr. Haslar falling as
he attempted to escape, while the other unfortunate investigators were
hauled over the cliff.

"It is well known in the district that Lieutenant Haslar gave frequent
warnings to the authorities of the danger to the community at large by
the presence of a band of desperadoes with the most potent instruments
of science at their command.  Now the gallant officer has set the seal
to his assertions, possibly at the cost of his life.

"We understand that cavalry are to be brought into the terrorised
district, and in the meanwhile armed parties of coastguards are
actively engaged in patrolling the cliffs in search of the missing
officers and their assailants.  The next few hours may produce
startling developments."


"What do you think of that?" asked Don Miguel, when Reginald had
finished reading.

"Absolute rot!" replied the sub.  "Someone's on the wrong tack.  But
I'm sorry about old Haslar, even though he was a surly bear."

"Who's Haslar?  I see his name mentioned once or twice.  Did he
accompany you?"

Holmsby hastened to explain that he and the pensioner were practically
rivals.

"It's strange," he added.  "We passed him going homewards as we made
for Sampson's Down.  He must have returned.  I wonder who shot him:
none of your men?"

"Most emphatically no," replied Don Miguel.  "But here is another
paper--the St. Ives Romancer."


  "THE MYSTERIOUS AIRSHIP ATTACKS ST. IVES.
  WANTON DESTRUCTION OF THE LIGHTHOUSE.

"Late last evening, or rather in the early hours of the morning, the
mysterious airship, which has recently been prominently brought before
the notice of the public, showed herself in her true colours.  During
the height of the north-easterly gale that, as related elsewhere in our
columns, wrought havoc on our coasts, the airship, manned by a crew of
desperadoes, wantonly destroyed the lighthouse on the pier-head.  By
what means she succeeded in performing this wilful act of
destruction--an undoubted outrage against all nations--remains a
mystery.  Many of the spectators avow that it was by the agency of an
electric discharge.  Fortunately the damage was confined to the
lighthouse, the gale sweeping the sky-pirate over the town ere she had
time to continue her deeds of inexplicable destruction."


"More bungling.  That editor ought to be made to swallow his confounded
paper," said Holmsby savagely.  "Here, Dick, come and see the account
of your premature decease."

"I've already done so," replied Tresillian, as he rejoined his
companion.  "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.  But, seriously,
Rex, who could have winged old Haslar?"

"Give it up; unless it were our old friends F.O. 445.  There's one
consolation: our letters will reach the Admiralty to-night, and will
help to clear up several false impressions."

Dick's face suddenly paled as he clapped his hand to his breast-pocket.

"I'm a regular ass!" he exclaimed.  "I've forgotten to post them.
What's going to happen now?"

"That remains to be seen, as the ship's cat said when it upset the ink
over the commander's log-book," replied Holmsby.  "At any rate we are
both officially dead, and there is a vacancy in the Active branch of
the King's Navy to say nothing of one in the hard-working Civil
Service."

"Then I would suggest that present complications are considerably
simplified, Mr. Holmsby," remarked Don Miguel.  "Until you are
resurrected you have no official status: your very existence is denied.
Therefore, it seems to me, there is no reason why you should not accept
my offer and become lieutenant of the _Amphibian_ for the time being."

"May as well go the whole hog," replied Holmsby, with forced
cheerfulness.  "I'll accept, subject to one condition."

"And that----?"

"That should the _Amphibian_ become embroiled in a conflict with any
nation, except with the rebels of Calderia, we can claim the right to
be set ashore or on board any craft we may happen to fall in with."

"Agreed!" exclaimed Don Miguel O'Rourke, extending his right hand.




CHAPTER XV

THE TALPICAN AEROPLANES

Swiftly the _Amphibian_ sped on her course towards the distant
Calderian shores, and once clear of the recognised trade routes hour
after hour passed without sign of a vessel upon the vast expanse of
ocean.

On the evening of the second day after leaving the Cornish coast the
airship passed beyond the range of her wireless telephone, and from
that time until her arrival off the port of Nalcuanho all communication
with the outside world was practically impossible.

Early on the morning of the third day the Bermudas hove in sight, and
flying at an altitude of nearly 2000 metres, the _Amphibian_ passed
directly over the town of Hamilton, unnoticed by any of the inhabitants.

The same evening she flew high over Moro Castle and the town of
Havanna.  Don Miguel gave orders for the lower search-light to be
switched on, and instantly the town was swept by a dazzling ray of
light.

By the aid of their glasses the Englishmen could see the Plaza crowded
with Creoles and negroes taking their evening promenade.  At the first
flash, falling apparently from the sky, shouts of terror rose from the
superstitious Cubans.  Some fell prostrate on the ground, others ran
shrieking to the shelter of the narrow streets, and in a few seconds
the Plaza was deserted.

"If that had been the Talpican army we would have gained a splendid
moral victory," exclaimed Tresillian.

"Unless I'm much mistaken the Talpicans are made of sterner stuff,"
replied Don Miguel.  "We will not be able to clear them off Calderian
territory without bloodshed, I fancy.  Now, gentlemen, it is about time
the watch is set, and those off duty take their rest.  This will be the
last opportunity of undisturbed repose for some days to come."

At sunrise Holmsby was out upon the promenade-deck, marine-glasses in
hand.  Away to the south-west there appeared to be an irregular crimson
cloud.  It was the snowclad peaks of the Calderian Sierras tinged with
the glow of the rising sun.

"Quite seventy miles off, I reckon," commented Reginald.  "Another
half-hour and we'll be on the scene of hostilities."

The crew of the _Amphibian_ were already busily engaged in clearing for
action.  Speed was reduced while the two 0.755 centimetre quick-firers
were brought from below and mounted on the promenade-deck.  Racks of
sinister-looking polished shells were ranged alongside the guns and
secured by strong lashings; while amidships a Maxim was mounted on a
light tripod and placed in such a position that it could command a wide
arc of fire on either broad-side.

Just before eight o'clock Don Miguel O'Rourke, now attired in a
gorgeous gilt-braided uniform, came on deck, and as eight bells struck
the Calderian ensign was run up to a small staff abaft the
promenade-deck.

Then, with the flag blowing out as stiff as a board, the _Amphibian_
resumed her greatest pace direct for the city of Nalcuanho, now barely
twelve miles distant.

"By Jove, señor, I believe we are too late," exclaimed Holmsby, as the
two stood at the for'ard scuttles of the conning-tower.  "The place is
already in flames."

Such evidently was the case, for in the almost calm air a thick column
of flame-tinged smoke soared skyward.

"We are not too late for revenge, Mr. Holmsby," replied the
ex-President.

"Revenge," thought Reginald.  "This fellow seems to think of nothing
else.  All his power, riches, intellect seem to exist for that one
purpose."

"They are still firing," exclaimed Don Miguel.  "See, there are shells
bursting away to seaward."

"Yes, and do you see what they are firing at?" asked Holmsby quietly.
"See those little black dots, like a swarm of flies, flopping up and
down?"

"_Caramba_!" muttered the Calderian.  "They are aeroplanes."

"Talpico has evidently made strides in the science of warfare since you
left Nalcuanho, señor," remarked Reginald.  "However, we must be
careful.  What do you propose to do?"

"Stand on and see what happens.  I hope they'll turn tail when they see
the Calderian ensign floating in the air.  See that the men at the
quick-firers have the correct range, Mr. Holmsby."

But ere Reginald could leave the conning-tower, Don Miguel shouted to
him to return.

The Englishman was surprised at the change in the Calderian's features.
The deep olive tint had given place to the sickly yellow of terror.  In
the hour of peril the vaunted rescuer of his country completely lost
his head.

"What must we do, señor?" he gasped, pointing to the Talpican
aeroplanes, which, having formed into two long lines _en échelon_, were
advancing straight for the _Amphibian_.

"Do?" replied Holmsby, almost roughly, for the sight of the craven
ex-President provoked his deepest resentment.  "Do?  Why, act, man,
act!"

"I cannot."

"Shall I, then?"

Don Miguel gave a feeble gesture of assent.  Reginald immediately
sprang to the wheel, put the tiller hard over, elevated the planes to
their highest capacity, and shouted to the engineer to charge the four
remaining ballonettes.

"Look sharp, Dick," he shouted.  "Serve out the neutralisers.  We'll
rise till we drop those fellows--or bust in the attempt."

Like an arrow from a bow the _Amphibian_ darted upwards, just missing a
rocket from the nearest aeroplane of the starboard division, the
hissing missile of destruction passing a few feet below the envelope.
Had the rocket engaged it would have burst a hole through the duralium
with the greatest ease in spite of the asbestos sheeting for, by an
ingenious mechanical device, the heads of these newly-invented
anti-airship weapons were provided with a sharp rotary drill.  The
impact would be sufficient to enable the point to obtain a grip, and
its spiral action would speedily enlarge the aperture, through which
the unquenchable flame of mingled petrol and sulphur would pass,
causing the total destruction of the best-protected aircraft in
existence.

"Ugh, you brute!" ejaculated Holmsby, who alone had noted the
_Amphibian's_ narrow escape.

It seemed as if the whole fleet of aeroplanes were falling seawards, so
swift had been the airship's vertical leap.  In less than half a minute
the hostile fleet looked no bigger than a covey of partridges, as,
superbly managed, they circled in ever-ascending spiral curves in
fruitless pursuit of the Calderian airship.

Suddenly, and without orders, one of the crew released a bomb from the
lowermost deck.  The gunner evidently knew his work, for, in setting
the fuse to explode at 5000 metres, he gauged the distance to a nicety.

With a roar that was greatly intensified by the rarefied atmosphere the
highly-charged missile exploded in the midst of the pursuing aeroplanes.

Holmsby, in the conning-tower, was in ignorance of what had occurred;
but Tresillian had run to the floor-panel and saw the tragedy enacted.

The blinding flash was instantly concealed by a thick yellow cloud
mingled with fragments of the annihilated machines.  Some, beyond the
actual zone of explosion, were capsized by the blast of displaced air,
their occupants falling to a quick yet horrible death; others had their
planes burnt and rent by the spurting flames, and like flies shorn of
their wings plunged swiftly downwards; while four only, rocking
violently in their endeavour to counteract the air-eddies, succeeded in
recovering their balance.  Terror-stricken, their occupants executed a
terrific _vol-plané_ till they almost reached the surface of the sea,
whence they fled for safety to the lines of the Talpican army.

"What's wrong with Don Miguel?" asked Dick, as he joined his comrade in
the conning-tower with the news of the appalling disaster to the
pursuers.

"Blue funk!" whispered Reginald.

"I don't wonder at it: I feel as sick as a dog after seeing that," and
Dick made a downward motion with his hand.  "If that's war I want to
see no more of it."

"Our friend yonder had his attack before the scrap began," said
Holmsby, contemptuously glancing in the direction of Don Miguel who
still remained huddled up on the floor.  "Just fancy, Dick, I'm in
command of this caboodle now.  Here we are at 4000 metres above the
sea-level, and in danger of the envelope bursting at any moment.  I
wonder what old Pennington would say if he could see me now?"

"Don't stop to think, old chap; but for goodness' sake let's descend a
few miles.  See, already there is ice forming on the turtle-back deck."

Realising the urgent necessity of following Tresillian's advice,
Holmsby ordered the engineer to release the helia from the four
now-superfluous ballonettes.

The man instantly grasped one of the levers actuating the valves; but
though he used considerable force the steel rod remained immovable.
The others he tried with the same result.

"Pardiez, señor, I cannot open the valves," he gasped.  "They are
frozen."

Holmsby glanced at the aneroid.  The _Amphibian_ was still rising.
Would the envelope withstand the terrific internal pressure?




CHAPTER XVI

A SWOOP FROM THE SKY

"Señor O'Rourke!"

Bending over the almost motionless body of the terrified inventor,
Holmsby called him by name.  There was no response.

"He ought to be made to rouse himself, Rex," said Tresillian.  "Hang it
all, man; it's his invention, isn't it?  Why can't he be made to
control it?  Shake him."

Thus adjured, Holmsby turned Don Miguel over on his back.  The man's
eyes were wide open, his teeth chattering like castanets, his face
absolutely devoid of colour.

"Come on, get up and play the man!" shouted the sub.  "We're in a bit
of a hole.  Don't be afraid--the aeroplanes are smashed to a jelly."

The Calderian gave no sign of intelligence.  He lay, breathing heavily,
yet apparently devoid of all his senses.

Drawing his revolver from his hip pocket, Reginald held it to
O'Rourke's temple.

"Get up, you white-livered scoundrel," he said sternly, "or, by Jove,
I'll----"

The sub. paused to note the effect of the threat; but his action and
words were wasted.  Don Miguel was temporarily dead to the world.

"Confound the fellow," he grunted.  "We must leave him alone: he's
properly off his head.  Here, Dick, give me a hand with this lever.
Ah!  That's good."

By their united efforts the Englishmen succeeded in reversing the
elevating planes, but the helia release-valves obstinately refused to
move.

"Now we'll try the motor and see if we can descend in spite of the
lifting power of the ballonettes," exclaimed Reginald.  "Perhaps we may
succeed in striking a warmer zone of air and thus melt the ice."

Cautiously running the motor at half speed, since he feared that the
vibration might complete the anticipated rending of the envelope,
Holmsby noticed with intense satisfaction that the _Amphibian_ was
beginning to gather way and descend obliquely; but in a few moments the
huge fabric began to tilt so steeply that the sub-lieutenant had to
re-trim the planes to prevent the craft from assuming a vertical
position.

"Now what's to be done, Dick?" he asked.  "It's evident that she won't
descend in a proper manner.  If she tilts too much I'm afraid the motor
will be wrenched from its bearers or some of the heavy gear will be
started.  Look, it's 4900 metres now."

"Couldn't we hack one of the ballonettes through from the outside?"

"Impossible, I'm afraid, Dick.  The men had to take shelter below by
reason of the intense cold when we were at only 3000 metres.  They
could scarcely breathe."

"We'll both have another shot at the valves.  Something is bound to go
if we heave for all we're worth."

"All right--but one moment: are all the neutralisers served out and
charged?"

"Served out, but not charged."

"Then I'll give the order for that to be done.  If the ship gets out of
control and makes a downward plunge it may be possible to save our
lives before she plunges into the sea.  She may fall gently or she may
go with a terrific smash--it all depends on how the ballonettes stand
it."

In a few minutes the crew were ready for the unhoped-for emergency,
Holmsby and his comrade having likewise provided for the expected
catastrophe.

"By Jove, Rex!" exclaimed Tresillian, as they made their way towards
the valve-levers, "I don't think this apparatus has the same buoyancy
as it had before."

"I'm certain of it," replied Holmsby.  "It is doubtless due to the
rarefied condition of the atmosphere.  If we leapt overboard it's a
moral certainty we should fall like a stone for a few miles till we
entered a stratum of normal density.  By that time we would not be
worth much, I fear."

"Then how is it that the helia in the _Amphibian's_ ballonettes has a
comparatively greater lifting power?"

"It hasn't--bulk for bulk.  That's what I'm afraid of.  If we cannot
open those valves the helia which is sufficient to support the
_Amphibian_ in a rarefied atmosphere will assuredly burst the envelope
in denser air.  Already the interior pressure is about as much as the
fabric will stand.  So the sooner we start the valves the better.  Now,
all together."

Desperately the Englishmen tugged at one of the refractory levers, but
all to no purpose.  The steel rod bent to almost a semicircle, but the
actuating rod remained fixed as if an immovable part of the airship's
frame.  The effort well-nigh left the two men breathless; the thinness
of the air rendered breathing a matter of difficulty, and for some
minutes they could only sit down, gasping for breath while beads of
perspiration froze on their foreheads.

"Try the motor once more," at length suggested Dick.  "Tell the
engineer to run half speed astern and see if the _Amphibian_ will keep
her balance better that way."

But after several attempts to start the engine the engineer made the
startling discovery that the petrol had become frozen.  Holmsby looked
at the thermometer.  Even within the confined space of the
conning-tower it registered -15° centigrade.

"How long will it be before the natural leakage of the helia will be
sufficient to cause the _Amphibian_ to descend?" asked Tresillian.

"Goodness only knows.  Don Miguel might, but--well, look at the man."

"Then we are like Mahomet's tomb--floating betwixt heaven and
earth--until something happens to----"

A vicious hiss--the sound of escaping helia interrupted Dick's words.
The next instant officers and crew were flung violently against the
forward bulkheads of the compartments.

One of the after ballonettes had burst, fracturing four others.
Instantly the _Amphibian_, her buoyancy being contained in the five
'midship and for'ard helia-chambers, tilted nose upwards, and began to
fall swiftly towards the dark blue expanse five miles beneath her--to
wit, Mother Earth.

Helplessly the despairing men held on to whatever came nearest to their
hands.  Even had they retained their presence of mind and attempted to
leap from the falling aircraft, the rush of air past the conning-tower
hatch prevented it from being opened.  From intense cold the
temperature, suddenly raised by reason of the friction of the air,
changed to extreme heat.  The blades of the huge for'ard propeller were
compressed against the curve of the _Amphibian's_ bow as she plunged to
an apparently unavoidable fate upon the soil of Calderi.

Even in this moment of peril, Holmsby kept his eyes upon the clock and
the barometer.  In one minute and a half the mercury had risen over
twenty-three inches, representing a fall of four miles, at a mean rate
of 160 miles an hour.

Then it was that Holmsby became aware that the awful velocity was being
retarded.  The buoyancy of the still undamaged ballonettes was
sufficient to break the final plunge.

With newborn hope he reached up to the elevating levers.  Thank heaven
they were still in order.  Scarcely daring to hope, he gently deflected
the two nominally horizontal rudders.  The _Amphibian_ made a decided
movement towards regaining her normal position of equilibrium; but the
unequal balance of the buoyancy chambers still gave her an oblique
inclination of her major axis.  Still that was enough to break her fall.

"Dick!" shouted the sub.

There was no reply.  Tresillian was lying by the side of the craven Don
Miguel.  The strain had been too much for him: he had swooned.

"Look alive, men!" shouted Holmsby in Spanish, but of the crew only two
showed signs of intelligent movement and came crawling through the
narrow hatchway betwixt the conning-tower flat and the 'midship
compartment.  Instinctively they pinned their hopes on the coolness of
the young English officer.

One glance through the for'ard scuttle showed Holmsby that the
_Amphibian_ was not now in danger of falling upon hard ground.  Could
her present oblique course be maintained she would strike the water
some distance outside Nalcuanho Harbour.

"Secure that hatch!" continued Reginald, pointing to the only means of
egress which, though closed, was not held firmly in position by its
locking-levers.  Then having satisfied himself on this point, Holmsby
kept his attention upon the disabled airship's course.

Now, but eight hundred yards beneath the falling _Amphibian_, he could
see the six battleships and cruisers of the Talpican navy steaming in
single line ahead, with a dozen destroyers spread out on their seaward
side.  The fleet had been engaging the Calderian batteries, but on
discovering the crippled _Amphibian_ they had ceased firing to see the
result of a headlong plunge from the sky.

To Holmsby it seemed as if nothing could prevent the _Amphibian_ from
falling athwart one of the hostile craft, but in a few minutes the
ever-decreasing distance showed that there was room and to spare
betwixt the ships should the direction of the diagonal flight be kept
under control.

Fortunately the Talpican fleet did not possess quick-firers mounted so
as to enable them to repel the aircraft, their extreme elevation being
not more than 45°; but, recovering from their surprise, the crew of the
_Puebla_, the leading ship of the line, prepared to hazard a broadside
from their secondary armament ere the hapless airship struck the
surface of the sea.

Suddenly a gust of wind caught the falling craft, and instead of
descending when Holmsby had hoped, the _Amphibian_ swerved.  For one
brief instant it seemed as if she would descend upon the _Libertad_,
the second ship in line.

Her crew had a momentary vision of the gigantic airship swooping down
athwart her tapering masts; there was a series of crashes as the raffle
of wireless gear came tumbling from aloft, a resounding splash like the
blow of a whale's tail, and the _Amphibian_ disappeared beneath the
waves in a cauldron of boiling foam.




CHAPTER XVII

"WE HAVE STILL THE SUBMARINE"

The wreck of the _Amphibian_ rested on the ocean bed eleven fathoms
beneath the surface.  The shock of the impact was not sufficient to
deprive the gallant sub-lieutenant of his senses, and, keenly alert to
the urgency of immediate action, he instantly rallied those of the crew
who were capable of understanding and acting upon his orders.

"Close No. 4 starboard valve," shouted Holmsby, for under the terrific
pressure water was hissing like escaping steam through the
practically-closed apertures in the 'midship section of the submarine.

Fortunately, though Reginald was unaware of it, this leak had proved to
be of inestimable service to the hapless _Amphibian_.  It destroyed her
slight reserve of buoyancy, otherwise the craft would have risen to the
surface ere the crew could take steps to prevent her so doing, and thus
prove an easy target for the guns of the Talpican squadron.  As it was,
the flow of water was checked just at the right time.

Having ascertained that the hull of the submarine was perfectly sound
and watertight, Reginald turned his attention to his companions.
Tresillian was his first care.  The Cornishman lay perfectly
motionless, the sudden change of temperature, combined with the
confined air within the submarine craft tending to prolong his state of
insensibility.  His face was pale and pinched; his eyes dull; pulse
almost imperceptible, and breathing very feeble, while Holmsby could
scarcely detect any signs of respiration or circulation of the blood.

Placing his comrade's body in a horizontal position with his head
slightly raised, Reginald bared his patient's neck and chest and
proceeded to chafe his limbs.  For nearly a quarter of an hour he
persevered, leaving off only to administer an occasional teaspoonful of
brandy--all apparently to no purpose.

"Try the oxygen, señor," suggested one of the seamen, who was engaged
in trying to revive one of his comrades.

Holmsby made the experiment almost in fear and trembling.  To him the
use of the gas was like treading upon dangerous ground, but in the
absence of the necessary fresh air, the course seemed the only possible
one.

To his unbounded delight the experiment proved successful, and Dick
opened his eyes.

"Where am I?  Am I still alive?" he muttered fearfully.

"Alive, ay," replied Holmsby encouragingly, "and as safe as the Bank.
Now lie still and don't ask any more questions for some time to come."

But Tresillian would not be quiet.  Possibly the use of the oxygen
hastened his recovery, for in less than a quarter of an hour from the
time he opened his eyes, Dick was, to use his own words, "quite chirpy."

Meanwhile most of the Calderian crew had recovered from the effect of
the terrible strain upon their nerves, for beyond a few slight
contusions few had sustained injury.  Don Carlos, the incapacitated
lieutenant had, however, received a nasty gash across the forehead;
for, having his hand bound up in splints, he had been unable to take a
secure hold when the _Amphibian_ began her earthward flight.

As for Don Miguel O'Rourke, he, too, had partially recovered from his
attack of abject terror, and lay on the floor crying silently, ignorant
and heedless of the circumstances of his surroundings.

"I say, Rex, old fellow," began Dick, as Holmsby returned from holding
a consultation with the engineer, "where are we; and what has happened?
Don't be afraid to tell me, for I feel as fit as a fiddle."

"We fell, Dick---nearly crashed on top of one of the Talpican
battleships.  At present we are lying at the bottom of the sea in
eleven fathoms of water."

"Lying _en perdu_ till the enemy give us a chance to ascend, I suppose.
Then we can try the effect of a few more bombs."

"Lying here because there's no help for it, Dick.  The _Amphibian_
belies her name.  As an airship, her days, I fear, are over."

"But we have still the submarine."

"True; and what is more, I mean to let those Talpican rascals know it,
if they give any more cause.  They were not content with seeing the
_Amphibian_ fall helpless from the clouds, but they must needs prepare
to hull her with their quick-firers at close range."

"Did they?"

"No, but it wasn't their fault that they didn't."

"How is Don Miguel faring?"

"Don't mention him," replied Holmsby contemptuously.  "He may be a most
clever inventor, but he has no physical courage.  His nerve failed him
at the moment when it was most required."

"So did mine, Rex."

"But you are differently situated.  You did not boast of revenge; you
did not aspire to taking this marvellous fighting machine into action:
he did both, but when it came to the point--well, you saw what
happened."

"What do you propose to do now?"

"Do?  Why, carry out my promise to Don Miguel.  Give him a fair chance
to regain the presidency, support him as well as I can bring myself to
do without losing my self-respect, and then, Dick, we'll make tracks
for home."

"Is the _Amphibian_ much damaged?"

"The envelope is, I fear; but the submarine part seems as sound as a
bell.  The motors, too, are in working order; at least, so the engineer
informs me, but the aerial propeller is done for.  If you feel equal to
it, look through the conning-tower scuttles and see the extent of the
damage."

"Of course I feel equal to it," replied Tresillian, but as he rose to
his feet Holmsby noticed that he staggered more than once.

The glare of the bright tropical sunshine was sufficient to penetrate
the water even to the depth at which the stricken craft had sunk.
Peering through the thick plate glass, Tresillian could form some idea
of the extent of the damage.

The _Amphibian_ was lying on an almost even keel, with her bows
somewhat depressed and with a slight list to starboard.  For quite
twenty feet the fore turtle-back deck had been rent, the duralium
plating resembling the jagged edge of a saw.  Beyond this cavity,
through which the helia from the five injured ballonettes had forced
its way, no other fracture of the envelope was visible.  Only one blade
of the aerial propeller remained, but that was so badly twisted that it
would be useless even had the _Amphibian_ been capable of supporting
herself in the air.  The remaining ballonettes were sound, but useless
for lifting purposes until the balance of the craft had been restored
by the repair of at least two of the for'ard ones.

It was indeed fortunate that the two members of the Calderian crew who
had retained their senses had the presence of mind to open the valves
of these compartments ere the _Amphibian_ struck the water, otherwise
the buoyant afterpart would have floated like a cork--an easy target to
the guns of the Talpican fleet.

While the two Englishmen were looking through the scuttle, a polished
cylinder, followed by a wake of eddying water and air-bubbles, flashed
through the transparent sea barely twenty feet above the _Amphibian_.

"Heavens!" exclaimed Tresillian.  "A torpedo.  The beggars are trying
to settle our hash.  Luckily we are too deep down for a torpedo to
strike us, even when run at its maximum depth of submersion.  I hope
they won't attempt to use electro-contact mines, though."

"How have they spotted us?"

"Probably they heaved a mark-buoy over the spot where we disappeared;
or we may be visible from their mastheads.  It's remarkable how deep
one can see from aloft in tropical seas.  All right, my beauties," he
exclaimed, as he made his way to the hatchway communicating with the
forepart of the submarine.  "I'll teach you a lesson."

The Calderian crew, now recovered from the effects of their fright,
were at their posts.  In a few moments the bow torpedo tube was
launched back and a deadly cigar-shaped missile placed in the tray.
Holmsby's only fear was that the weapon in leaving the tube would
strike the debris of the aerial propeller, for owing to the injuries it
had received it was found impossible to withdraw the shafting and
feather the remaining blade.

Meanwhile the principal centrifugal pumps were engaged in throwing out
the water that had made its way into the submarine through the
improperly-closed valve; and as soon as the huge metal cylinder began
to grow "lively," Holmsby ordered the engineer to restart the motors.

He was now back in his place in the conning-tower, his right hand
grasping the steering-wheel, his left on the lever controlling the
horizontal planes, while his eyes were fixed upon the apparently
unbroken expanse of semi-opaque water ahead.  It mattered not to him
whether the _Amphibian_ was encumbered with a framework of useless
plating, or whether she would never again soar in the air.  His
comrade's words rang in his ears: "We have still a submarine."  A
submarine?  Yes, and, by Jove, he meant to make good use of her.

Slowly the _Amphibian_ rose from her ocean bed, then, gathering way,
crept over the bottom of the sea--so close to it that the wash of her
following wave stirred up a long wake of sand-discoloured water.

By sheer good luck the submarine was heading straight for the
battleship _Libertad_.  From the forebridge her navigating-officer saw
the tell-tale swirl, and, in a panic, signalled to the engine-room for
full-speed ahead.  A warning blast from the syren of the _Paulo_ told
him that his vessel was heading straight for her consort.  There was
not sufficient space to up or down helm.  Full-speed astern!  With the
foam bubbling in cascades on either side of her quarter the _Libertad_
slowed down, stopped, then began to gather stern-way.

Suddenly Holmsby, from his post in the conning-tower, caught sight of a
dark, indistinct mass looming through the water.  It was the
_Libertad_.  Now he could discern the swirl of her port-propeller as it
strove to check the momentum of the forward motion of the ship.

Slightly elevating the bows of the _Amphibian_, Holmsby gave the order
to fire, and with a sharp detonation, followed by a characteristic
hiss, the torpedo left the tube.  The range was short--almost too close
for the rule-of-thumb "margin of safety," but, being without a
periscope and not daring to rise till the top of the conning-tower was
awash in order to take his bearings, the sub-lieutenant was compelled
to take the risk.

At that distance a miss was almost an impossibility.  Ere the Calderian
engineer could obey Holmsby's order to reverse the submarine, the
deadly missile struck the Talpican warship fairly amidships and about
twelve feet below the armoured belt.

Instantly there was a tremendous explosion, followed by another equally
terrific as the primary shock affected the warship's magazine with
disastrous effect.

The concussion caused the sea to be violently agitated.  Even the
submerged _Amphibian_ rolled like a stricken porpoise as she backed
from the scene of her exploit.

The _Libertad_ had been literally torn to pieces both above and below
her armoured belt.  Ere the fragments of metal had fallen from the
immense height to which they had been hurled the shattered hull sank
like a stone.

The result of the sharp stern lesson justified its application.  Panic
seized the surviving vessels of the Talpican squadron, and, steaming at
full-speed ahead, their funnels belching out thick clouds of black
smoke tinged with deep red flames, they headed for the doubtful
security of Sta. Cruz Roads.

Reginald was perfectly satisfied with his victory.  The Calderian coast
had been freed from the presence of the powerful hostile fleet.
Pursuit would have been useless, the _Amphibian_ being, in her damaged
condition, capable of doing a bare seven knots; but the terror of the
mysterious vessel that had dropped apparently crippled from the clouds
and yet retained the means of sending one of their finest battleships
to the bottom was sufficient to totally demoralise the Talpican fleet.

Slowly rising to the surface, the _Amphibian_ shaped a course towards
the harbour of Nalcuanho.  In less than an hour, Calderia would have
its former President within her territory.  What would be the nature of
his reception?




CHAPTER XVIII

DON MIGUEL TAKES THE FIELD

"I feel quite sorry for that poor O'Rourke," exclaimed Dick.  "He's
sitting in his cabin looking the very picture of misery.  I can quite
sympathise with him."

"Yes, it's hard luck when you lose your nerve," agreed Holmsby, for now
the excitement of the flight and subsequent attack was over the British
officer looked at Don Miguel's failings in a different light to what he
had hitherto done.

Holmsby had relinquished the wheel to the Calderian quartermaster on
approaching the harbour of Nalcuanho.  He had never before negotiated
the intricate entrance, and, unwilling to take further risks, had left
the navigation in the hands of those who were more capable of taking
the crippled _Amphibian_ betwixt the rocks and shoals that, for a
distance of three miles, render the channel to the harbour of the
capital of Calderia one of the most dangerous of all South American
ports.

"Look here," continued Holmsby.  "I'm horribly sorry for the poor
fellow, too.  Suppose we try and buck him up."

It was a very dejected Don Miguel who rose to meet the two Englishmen
as they knocked and entered his cabin.  He was certainly calmer, but
was still labouring under the agitation of his mind.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I must most deeply apologise----"

"No need, Don Miguel," exclaimed Holmsby briskly.  "We have come to
tell you that we are about to enter Nalcuanho Harbour.  In another half
an hour Calderia will greet its deliverer."

"Yourself."

"No, señor: you are the person whom I refer----"

"But after my regrettable----"

"That, señor, is a closed book.  You can and must play your part."

"My part," repeated the Calderian bitterly.  "My chance is gone.  I am
disgraced, not only in your eyes, but in the sight of my crew.  In
another hour the news will be shouted from all the housetops of
Nalcuanho.  You, Mr. Holmsby, will be the hero of the Calderian people."

There was nothing hypocritical in Don Miguel's words.  It was a
straightforward declaration of incompetency.  The man realised his
position.

"Take another view of the situation," said Reginald.  "Your chance is
only just about to take place.  It was your brains that evolved the
_Amphibian_--that you must admit?  Good.  Now, to continue: an
unfortunate attack of nerves incapacitated you.  More by sheer luck
than anything else I managed to see this business through.  That was
all.  Both Mr. Tresillian and I saw your state and knew the reason; but
of the crew, though they saw you lying on the floor of the
conning-tower, none knew what had happened.  Supposing we treat your
case as an injury to the head received in action?"

"You mean it, señor?" asked Don Miguel, hope reviving in his breast.

"Certainly.  But, remember, another time you must act the man.  I'll
say no more, Don Miguel.  We are nearly in harbour now, so pull
yourself together.  For our part we'll do our utmost to see you
through."

With the Calderian ensign flying proudly in the breeze, the shattered
_Amphibian_ passed between the crowded pier-heads and moored alongside
the Inner Mole.

Calm and collected, yet deathly pale, Don Miguel O'Rourke, dressed in
his gorgeous uniform, accompanied by his two English companions,
appeared on deck.

In an instant Calderia recognised the commander of the vessel that had
driven off the hostile fleet as its former President, and, with loud
and repeated "Vivas," the crowd pressed and swayed on the quay-side,
their shouts absolutely drowning the Calderian National Anthem that was
being played by a military band with all the power at its command.

"You are all right now, señor," whispered Dick encouragingly.  "The
people are solid for you."

As O'Rourke stepped ashore, the Alcalde greeted him warmly in the name
of the people, and, almost mobbed by his enthusiastic compatriots, the
ex-President was carried shoulder high to a carriage.

"Where are my English friends?" he shouted, and the cry was taken up by
the crowd.  "El Englese, el Englese."

Reginald and Dick had modestly retired to the seclusion of the
_Amphibian's_ conning-tower; but in spite of their protestations they
were made to come out of their retreat and escorted to the carriage in
which Don Miguel and the Alcalde were already seated.  Preceded by the
band, and escorted by the excited populace, who insisted upon
unharnessing the horses, the carriage was drawn in triumph to the City
Hall.

During this semi-regal progress, Don Miguel had much food for
reflection.  He pictured the self-same street a few short years ago,
when he was stealthily creeping along the deserted thoroughfare by
night to escape the fury of the mob, perchance composed of the same men
who were even now cheering him to the echo.

As for Tresillian, who knew not the Calderian temperament, he "rather
enjoyed the fun," as he afterwards expressed it; but Holmsby, with his
characteristic manner, was making good use of his eyes by noting the
effect of the bombardment.

Altogether the Republic of Calderia was in a strange predicament.
There had been a revolution within a revolution.  The Extremists, who
had been so active in the downfall of Don Miguel O'Rourke, found that
their ideas did not at all coincide with those of the former
co-revolutionaries--the Retardists.  There was a split.  The Extremists
sought the aid of the neighbouring Republic of Talpico, while the
Retardists, compromising with the Moderates--the party who wished for
the recall of Don Miguel O'Rourke--found themselves beset by the
Talpican navy and army and threatened by civil war to boot.

The subsequent bombardment of Nalcuanho, though interrupted by the
timely arrival of the _Amphibian_, had caused considerable damage, not
only to the fortifications, but to municipal and private buildings as
well; but, curiously enough the popular outcry was not against the
sister republic but against the Extremists whose action had been the
means of causing the Talpican invasion.

But though the city of Nalcuanho was for the present relieved of the
horrors of bombardment and investment, a real danger still existed
within the boundaries of Calderia.

The Extremists, under the leadership of the President of their choice,
General Guzman Lopez, held the southern portion of the Republic in
conjunction with the Talpican army.  Even if the allies did not carry
out their boast of marching upon Nalcuanho, no peace could be assured
until the work of driving the insurgents and their Talpican friends
through the passes of Sierra was accomplished.

Don Miguel could not have arrived at the capital at a more opportune
time.  Amid the acclamations of the populace, he was once more made
President without the necessity for an election--for the simple reason
that there was no one in Nalcuanho to oppose him.

Steps were immediately taken for the suppression of the insurrection
and the expulsion of the Talpican army.  The Third Reserve was called
out, the forces of the Republic reorganised, and in less than a week
the Calderian troops were ready to take the field, led by the President
in person.

But during that week Don Miguel had been busy in another direction.
The _Amphibian_--the Republic's greatest asset--was being repaired,
under his personal supervision so as once more to bear her part in the
air; but, with considerable forethought, it was given out that her
sphere of operations would be confined to the sea, with a view to
making a salutary attack upon the Talpican fleet.

This had the effect of keeping the fairly powerful Talpican fleet
within its harbours, for the _Amphibian_ was regarded with feelings of
terror by the seamen who had witnessed the appalling destruction of the
_Libertad_.  Talpico had still a strong squadron, whereas Calderia,
with the exception of a few river gunboats, had no warships.

True to their word to see the President safely through, Reginald and
Dick offered to accompany Don Miguel to the front.

"I have better work for you, señors," replied Don Miguel.  "Within
three days the _Amphibian_ will, I trust, be again fit for service.
Since you, Mr. Holmsby, know almost if not quite as much about the
handling of her as I do myself, I wish that you will take command of
her and bring her to the fighting-line.  I am indeed grateful for your
aid.  Your advice to play the man I mean to follow.  If, therefore, in
action I am fated to fall, I trust it will be with my face to the foe.
Should total defeat overtake my army, all will be lost as far as
Calderia is concerned.  My ambitions will be crushed, my life's work
ended, for I vow never to leave the field alive and dishonoured.
Should that unfortunate event take place, please understand that the
_Amphibian_ is yours to do with as you wish.  Moreover, I have written
to my agents in Paris--here is their address--telling them, in the
event of my death, to hand over to both or either of you the documents
relating to the secret of the composition of helia.  Now I think I have
made myself clear.  To-morrow we set out for the frontier.  Within a
week we ought to be in touch with the enemy, and by that time I can
hope for your co-operation with the _Amphibian_."

"Good luck to you, señor," exclaimed both the Englishmen.  "For our
part we'll do our best."

At daybreak on the following morning the van of the Calderian army
entrained, a single line of rails communicating with Estores--a town
fifty miles from Nalcuanho on the edge of the vast plain that stretches
from the Rio del Este to the foot of the sierras.  Throughout the day
train after train left the capital, each packed with troops.  The men,
though somewhat lacking in discipline, were full of ardour and well
armed with modern rifles.  The majority were mulattoes; a few of the
picked regiments only being composed of Creoles.  Neverthelesss, they
compared favourably with the land-forces of the Republic of Talpico,
and, under the usual conditions, could be relied upon to give a good
account of themselves.

Loyally Holmsby and Tresillian stuck to their task of superintending
the repairs to the _Amphibian_.  Day and night they took turns to keep
the Calderian workmen at high pressure till the reconstruction of the
envelope and aerial propeller neared completion.

Every day for five days messengers reached the town of Estores with
news of the advance of the army, whence the information was telegraphed
to the capital; but on the sixth day came an ominous break in tidings
from the front.  Excitement was at fever-heat, but throughout the
tension of public alarm the Englishmen kept cool and collected,
directing their attentions solely to the matter entrusted to their
care; and at daybreak on the morning of the seventh day following Don
Miguel's departure, the _Amphibian_ rose majestically in the air and
headed towards the distant sierras.




CHAPTER XIX

THE VINDICATION OF THE PRESIDENT

In less than seven hours the _Amphibian_ covered the distance that had
taken the Calderian army seven tedious days to accomplish, and shortly
before noon the blue outlines of the rugged sierras appeared in sight.

Holmsby had already given the order to clear for action.  The
quick-firers were placed in position, and every man was at his post,
equipped with a neutraliser in the event of a catastrophe to the
airship, the speed having been reduced to twenty miles an hour so as to
enable those on the promenade-deck to conduct their observations in
comparative comfort.

It was a broiling day.  The sun's rays poured vertically upon the huge
bulk of the _Amphibian_, and in spite of the draught caused by her
passage through the air, the metal deck plates and stanchions were
almost too hot to touch with the hand, while the rubber-soled shoes of
the officers and crew were rendered almost viscous by contact with the
deck.

Suddenly above the sharp buzz of the aerial propeller, Tresillian
detected the long-drawn sound of artillery and musketry fire.

"They've started, Rex," exclaimed Dick, pointing to the still distant
range of mountains.

"Eh?  What direction?  Where's my glass?"

"Away more to the right, I fancy," replied Tresillian, handing his
comrade his binoculars.  "Can you see anything?"

"By Jove, I can," replied Holmsby.  "One of the armies, at any rate."

"Then where's the other?"

"Entrenched or hiding in the long grass, I fancy.  But what a one-sided
place to choose for a battle: where the mountains meet the plain.  One
side is nothing but good cover and the other is as flat as a table."

Side by side the two Englishmen stood looking through their glasses at
the still-indistinct line of grey-coated troops while the _Amphibian's_
course had been altered so as to take her to the scene of battle.

Presently Holmsby brought his open hand down heavily upon the stanchion
rail.

"Now I see what it is," he exclaimed.  "We're a trifle too late to be
of much use.  That line we see is in reality both armies.  They are
having a fine set-to, but, by George, what a disregard for all modern
tactics."

In a very short space the _Amphibian_ was hovering over the battlefield
at an elevation of nearly five hundred feet.  It was as Holmsby had
remarked, a hand-to-hand fight: the science of present-day warfare was
totally lacking.

Don Miguel had opened the attack earlier in the day by a furious
cannonade upon the Talpican defences.  The invaders, possessing only
light mountain artillery, were completely out-ranged, but in spite of
their terrible ordeal stuck gamely to their trenches and the splendid
cover afforded by the natural ruggedness of the ground at the base of
the sierras.

At length, after four hours' incessant artillery fire, Don Miguel,
unable to restrain the ardour of his troops, gave the order for a
general attack, and no sooner did the bugles blare out the advance than
the whole army, save the artillery, dashed forward with the utmost
_élan_.

The sight of their advancing foes was enough for the Talpican soldiers.
They, too, did not hesitate, but, firing an irregular volley at 800
metres, rushed pell-mell to engage their attackers.

The total length of the line of attack was barely two miles, the men
being bunched together in close formation instead of the recognised
open order, and in less than ten minutes from the beginning of the
Calderian advance the opposing forces met.

It was more like a conflict between two savage tribes than a battle
between two armies equipped with modern weapons.  Beyond the first two
or three straggling volleys few shots were fired on either side, but
with bayonet, clubbed rifle, or the equally formidable machete, the
foes met in deadly earnest.

Up and up swarmed the light grey clad soldiers of Calderia, only to be
hurled back by the dark grey troops of Talpico, till the long line of
struggling men appeared like a vast writhing serpent when viewed from
the _Amphibian_, whose crew could see everything with the greatest
ease, yet could not lift a finger to help in the conflict lest they
should injure friend as well as foe.

Slowly yet surely the Talpicans gave back under the relentless fury of
their attackers, but even as they did so the ground was dotted with
grey figures, silent in death or writhing in agony.

Unseen in the heat of the battle the _Amphibian_ hovered above the
hardly-contested field, the Calderian crew hardly able to control their
feelings at the undoubted success of their compatriots, while the
Englishmen, calm and collected, were trying to distinguish the figure
of Don Miguel O'Rourke.  There was nothing to give them any sign of the
President's presence, for neither side bore the colours of their
respective republics, while officers and men were, in active service,
dressed almost alike, the former being invariably dismounted.

Suddenly the left wing of the Calderian army began to give back.  The
Talpican right flank, reinforced by the rebel Extremists, instantly
took advantage of the retrograde movement and pushed home a
counter-attack with irresistible force till the light greys turned and
fled in utmost disorder.

The cries of dismay and rage from the crew of the _Amphibian_ increased
when they saw the Calderian centre begin to waver.  Should the panic
spread, the day would be hopelessly lost.  Some of the men went so far
as to beseech Holmsby to drop one of the high explosive bombs upon the
Talpican wing; but this he sternly refused to do, knowing that in the
terrific explosion friend as well as foe would be involved in certain
destruction.

"We'll drop to within 30 metres," he assured his crew.  "No doubt the
mere sight of the _Amphibian_ will turn the fortunes of the day."

"Look!" exclaimed Dick.  "There is Don Miguel."

"Where?"

"Stand here and look just above this stanchion.  More to the left--do
you see that knot of men wedging their way into the dark grey troops?
See that man with his handkerchief bound round his head?  That's
O'Rourke: I saw it was he when he turned his face just now."

"So it is, by Jove!" said Holmsby.  "He's fairly in the thick of it."

The sub-lieutenant spoke truly.  Almost surrounded by the hostile
troops, the butt of every bayonet and clubbed rifle within arm's
length, the President of Calderia seemed to bear a charmed life.
Already a bullet had grazed his forehead, but maddened rather than hurt
by the wound he threw himself into the thickest of his foes.  Nothing
seemed able to withstand the sweep of his sword, while his example
served to encourage his discomfited followers.  Taking heart they
rallied, and by a supreme effort thrust back their opponents till the
Calderian centre pierced the Talpican line.

Meanwhile the enemy's right flank had strayed far from its original
position in pursuit of the demoralised wing.  Unless the fugitives
could be brought to rally, the centre would be threatened with a flank
attack.

"It's about time we stopped this useless slaughter, Dick," exclaimed
Holmsby.  "We'll give them a shot or two."

With the Calderian ensign floating proudly aft, the _Amphibian_ swooped
down to within two hundred feet of the ground, and at Holmsby's order
the crew let fly two rounds with the fore quick-firer, the shells
bursting harmlessly at a distance of three hundred yards to the rear of
the Talpican centre.

Although the rifle firing was very desultory, cold steel doing most of
the work, the din raised by the combatants almost drowned the sharp
reports of the airship's gun.  But the detonations were sufficient to
attract attention.  Both sides temporarily ceased their desperate
attack and counter-attack and gazed skywards.

A yell that was meant for a cheer burst from the throats of the
Calderian troops, while the Talpican forces, having a wholesome dread
of the vessel that had paralysed their naval strength, gave back and
soon broke into headlong flight.

Most of the Talpican officers made for their horses, mounted and
galloped off for dear life, leaving their men to shift for themselves.
Throwing away their arms as they ran, the fugitive soldiers made for
the mountain pass, the mouth of which was barely two miles from the
field of battle.  Had Holmsby wished he could have dropped a high
explosive charge into the gorge and sealed the demoralised invaders in
a trap; but this he humanely refused to allow his crew to do.  Even as
it was, many of the fugitives were shot down by their victorious
pursuers, who gave no quarter, ferociously slaughtering every wounded
Talpican they came across.

"What bloodthirsty brutes!" ejaculated Tresillian, as he gazed at the
scene of slaughter below them.

"They are," assented Reginald.  "It's their nature.  During their war
of independence a hundred years ago their forefathers fought thus,
giving and expecting no quarter, and a century of republicanism has
apparently changed them but little."

"This will end the war, I think," said Dick.  "Those unlucky beggars
have had quite enough.  The question is, Rex, what are we going to do
now?"

"Do?  Go home again, of course.  I've carried out the instructions of
my superiors to investigate--although I don't mind telling you I fancy
I've somewhat exceeded my orders--so there's nothing left but to return
and make out my report."

"You're following the example of Nelson at Copenhagen,
Rex--interpreting your orders in a somewhat peculiar manner."

"Then I hope the sequel will be as successful, old man.  Even Nelson
would have found himself in a hole had he bungled over the business.
But what's amiss now?"

Several of the crew grouped upon the forepart of the promenade-deck
were gesticulating violently and pointing in the direction of the
tallest peak of the sierras.  Following the direction indicated,
Reginald and Dick simultaneously gave vent to a surprised whistle.

Soaring over the mountains, and looking like a small dot in the
brilliant sky, was an airship.




CHAPTER XX

TREACHERY IN THE AIR

"What's her little game, I wonder," exclaimed Holmsby.  "An airship in
these parts is a bit of a novelty.  We must push forward and see what
her intentions are."

"Hadn't we better signal to Don Miguel first?" asked Tresillian.  "It
would be well to warn him, since I don't suppose she is yet visible
from the ground."

"It will mean descending again till we get within hailing distance,"
objected Holmsby.  "Since the wireless telephone was knocked out of
gear during our fall from the sky we have to rely upon the megaphone or
the semaphore.  During that time this mysterious craft will have sailed
right above us, and that is like the advantage of the weather-gauge in
the good old days of sailing line-of-battleships.  So up we go."

Ordering another helia charge to be inserted in one of the reserve
ballonettes, Holmsby took his place in the conning-tower.  In a few
minutes the _Amphibian_ rose vertically to a height of 3000 metres and
at a speed of ten knots forged ahead to meet her supposed rival.

"Stand by with the for'ard quick-firer," was Holmsby's next order in
Spanish.  "But don't fire till I give the word."

The oncoming craft was now clearly visible.  She was at least four
hundred feet in length, and of the non-rigid type.  She differed
greatly in appearance from the _Amphibian_, having a slung platform in
place of the latter's promenade-deck, while the motive power was
imparted to four propellers, two on either side of the long "nacelle."
On this platform were three fairly large deck-houses, the foremost
being triangular in shape so as to offer less resistance to the wind.
As far as Holmsby could see, she carried no guns, but on each side of
the for'ard deck-house was a searchlight, capable of throwing a beam
well ahead with a good elevation, abeam, or vertically downwards.

When within half a mile the strange airship suddenly ported her helm,
and, describing a half-circle, brought up broadside on to the
_Amphibian_.  As she did so the stars and stripes of the U.S.A.
fluttered in the breeze.

Holmsby immediately put his helm hard-a-starboard, with the result that
the two vessels were now slowly gliding in parallel lines at a distance
of about eight hundred yards apart.

"Airship ahoy!" hailed Reginald, who had gained the promenade-deck.
"What craft is that?"

"The _Black Eagle_ of Boston, U.S.A.," was the reply, every word being
clearly audible in the rarefied air in spite of the intervening
distance.  "Is Don Miguel O'Rourke on board?"

"No," replied Holmsby, surprised at the question.

"Then I reckon I'm tongue-wagging with Sub-Lootenant Reginald Holmsby?"

"You are," assented Reginald, still more surprised at the American's
latest question.  "How did you know my name?"

"Well, considering that you and Mr. Tresillian have had your names
given in every paper as being kidnapped by an airship belonging to Don
Miguel, it's not to be wondered at."

"We heard we were dead."

"P'raps," replied the American.  "But we're here to see something of
the scrap: all picture rights reserved for the Boston and Salem
Electric Star Picture Company."

"Take care you don't get a shot through your gas-bag," cautioned
Reginald.  "It's a risky business getting within rifle range."

During the conversation the two craft had converged so that they were
now less than two hundred yards apart.  There were four men only
visible upon the platform of the _Black Eagle_, the individual who had
hailed, leaning against the bulkhead of the 'mid-ship cabin.

"Say, are you certain the President isn't aboard your hooker?" he
continued.

"I said he was not," replied Holmsby, somewhat nettled at being doubted.

"That's a great pity."

"Why?" asked Holmsby.

"This!" shouted the man, dodging behind a screen.

Before Holmsby could act or even utter a warning shout a flash followed
by a deafening report leapt from the 'midship cabin of the airship, and
a two-pounder shell struck the _Amphibian_ just abaft the
conning-tower.  Penetrating two of the ballonettes and one side of the
inner shell that formed the body of the submarine it burst with a
terrific detonation, shaking the _Amphibian_ like a leaf from bow to
stern.

Giving a sharp list to port the victim of the treacherous attack began
to drop rapidly earthwards, while, simultaneously with the discharge of
another gun, the projectile of which skimmed harmlessly over the
_Amphibian's_ deck-rail, the mysterious airship dropped several bags of
ballast and shot upwards for nearly another thousand feet.

Even as she did so three men emerged from the deck-house and waved
their hands at the stricken _Amphibian_.

In the midst of peril both Holmsby and Tresillian recognised the
miscreants--they were the occupants of motor-car F.O. 445.

Fortunately the engineer, in response to Holmsby's orders, thrust
another helia cylinder into another of the reserve ballonettes, which
had been unaffected by the concussion, and at less than three hundred
feet from the ground the _Amphibian_ recovered herself, though still
retaining a decided list.

"Let her down gently," ordered the sub., and with hardly a tremor as
the helia hissed through the valves the _Amphibian_ sank gently to
earth on a broad ledge betwixt two towering peaks of the sierras.  By
this time the treacherous airship heading rapidly southwards, had
vanished beyond the saw-like crests of the mountains.

Directly the vessel was made fast bow and stern, the Englishmen,
accompanied by the engineer and the bos'un, entered the wrecked portion
of the submarine.  No doubt the rogues thought that the gas in the
_Amphibian's_ ballonettes was highly inflammable, and that the
explosion of the shell would ignite the contents of the envelope; but,
although they saw that the anticipated disaster did not take place,
they were convinced that their diabolical plan had succeeded inasmuch
as the _Amphibian_ appeared to fall, completely wrecked, upon the
jagged rocks of the sierras.

The damage was serious enough.  The projectile had bored a small
circular hole through the metal plating of the submarine, but had
failed to penetrate the other side; the explosion had practically
wrecked the whole of the interior abaft the central compartments.

The motors had been rendered unserviceable, the main shafting was
fractured in places, while the stores, flung from their duralium cases,
littered the floor, the provisions being badly spoiled by the thick
brown dust from the explosion.

The Calderian engineer burst into tears and began wringing his hands at
the sight of his crippled motors.  They were done for, he
declared--they would never be of use again.  The _Amphibian_, perched
half-way up the precipitous sides of the mountain, would be helpless.

"It might have been worse, Rex," said Tresillian.  "Imagine the result
if the shell had burst in the for'ard part where all our explosives are
stored."

"It's a mystery to me how the concussion failed to explode them,"
replied Holmsby gravely.  "We've still a lot to be thankful for."

"What's to be done now?"

"Done! why to get back to Nalcuanho as soon as we can," said Reginald
resolutely.

"How?  We can't use the motors."

"True; but where there's a will there's a way.  We must wait for a
favourable breeze, and then we'll sail back.  The _Amphibian_ is still
capable of being supported in the air; it is merely a question of time."

"Time, yes: but in the meantime we may starve."

"Dick, you are a confounded pessimist.  Have faith."

"Faith won't feed an empty stomach, my dear fellow."

"Think yourself fortunate that you still have the faculty of feeling
the pangs of hunger.  Now to work.  I'll send in some of the crew and
you can see that they clear this awful muddle away.  Examine the
stores; if they are spoiled, heave them overboard.  We can't afford to
carry useless lumber.  If not, put them by.  Meanwhile I'll see if the
outer envelope and the two damaged ballonettes can be temporarily
repaired."

"All right, Rex.  I'll do my part.  But when we reach the capital what
do you propose to do?"

"Do?  Why, what do you think I ought to do?  I'll tell you.  In less
than a week after our return the _Amphibian_, with myself in command,
will be off in pursuit of the treacherous airship.  I fancy I've a few
old scores to pay off against Messrs. F.O. 445 & Co."

"Rex, I thought you were not revengeful," said Tresillian in mock
reproach.

"Neither am I.  But you can't always twist a dog's tail and not expect
him to bite.  Now, I'm off.  Keep those fellows at it, for every moment
is precious."

So saying Holmsby re-entered the central compartment and, ascending the
iron ladder, gained the promenade-deck.  It was a strange sight that
met his gaze.  The _Amphibian_ was lying upon a broad ledge of
grass-grown earth that was shut in on three sides by the almost sheer
cliffs towering to a height of three thousand feet.  On the remaining
side was a corresponding drop of over a thousand feet.  Far below,
Holmsby could see a fertile valley through which a mountain torrent
leapt like a silvery thread till lost to sight behind a rugged spur.
Beyond the valley the mountains towered almost as high as the one on
the side of which the _Amphibian_ had found a place of refuge.

"This place is well sheltered from all but northerly winds," thought
the young officer.  "And a north wind is not what we want.  The bother
is that with a favourable breeze there will be no wind at all on this
side of the cliff, or, what is worse, a baffling eddy.  Ah, that
reminds me.  If the so-called _Black Eagle_ should return and drop half
a hundredweight of explosives on the _Amphibian_ while she's lying here
it would be a case with us, I fancy.  I think I'll send a man up the
cliff to keep a look out.--No, I won't, by Jove.  I'll go myself."

"Dick!" he shouted down the hatchway.  "I'm going aloft."

"Aloft, where?" replied Tresillian, who was busily engaged with some of
the crew in shovelling a sticky mixture of calcined bread and oil and
dust into buckets.

"Up the cliff.  I'm going to have a look round."

"Shall I come with you?"

"Better not."

"Is it safe?"

"Safe as anything.  I'll be back in less than a couple of hours."

Taking with him his revolver and twenty-four rounds of ammunition, a
pocket compass and his binoculars, Holmsby gained the ground by means
of a rope ladder, while one of the crew followed with two neutralisers.

Both of these the sub-lieutenant fastened to his back.  One was
charged; the other, for use in case of emergency, was not; while, as an
additional precaution, Holmsby thrust four spare cylinders into his
coat pocket.  In his hand he carried a short staff shod with a steel
point and bent prong somewhat resembling a boat-hook.

Giving one upward glance to see that no projecting crags impeded his
way, Holmsby leapt.  Fully fifty feet he shot up, then, as he was on
the point of returning earthwards, a gentle thrust with the pole gave
him a fresh impetus.  It was exhilarating yet almost tireless, Holmsby
thought as, leaping from crag to crag, taking advantage of every
crevice and assisting his ascent by clutching at the tufts of coarse
grass that festooned the face of the cliff, he rapidly left the
_Amphibian_ far beneath him.

In exactly fifty-five minutes from the commencement of his climb,
Holmsby reached the summit of the cliff, and, holding on to the scanty
herbage, lay at full length in order to remove and secure the still
buoyant neutraliser.

There was no sign of the treacherous airship.  As far as he could see
there was nothing but a saw-like ridge of gaunt peaks, some
considerably higher than the rest being snow-capped.

"There's not a thing that I can lash this contrivance to," remarked
Reginald to himself, as he looked about him.  "I don't want the thing
to break away and soar skywards, even though I've a spare neutraliser.
Well, I suppose I must drive this spiked staff into a cleft in the rock
and make the thing fast to it."

Acting on his impulse, Holmsby rose to his feet and began to walk
cautiously along the mountain-top, but, though rugged, there was no
fissure deep enough to receive the pole and keep it securely.

Suddenly a gust of wind swept over the summit of the cliff.  Holmsby
heard it whistling ere the blast reached him, and, realising his
danger, threw himself forward.  But owing to the retarding influence of
the neutraliser the movement was necessarily slow.  Before he could
secure a grip the gust caught him, and, lifted like a feather, he was
in a moment whirled far out over the cliff.  Beneath him was a sheer
drop of nearly four thousand feet.




CHAPTER XXI

THE PRESIDENT'S CHOICE

Desperately gripping his boat-hook like the proverbial drowning man
grasps at a straw, Holmsby found himself being twisted and turned in
all directions by the powerful wind-eddies.  At first he feared that he
would be swept far across the valley to the corresponding range of
mountains; but by degrees he felt himself dropping lower and lower till
the cliff from which he had been hurled began to break the force of the
wind.  His descent was more direct and rapid now that he had struck a
belt of comparatively still air.  Yet this rate of his downward fall
was not great enough to cause him any discomfort beyond the anxiety as
to what would happen when he reached the ground.

The descent was even more exhilarating than the ascent, and Reginald
found himself wondering whether the general use of the neutraliser
would in days to come evolve a new pastime.  Ski-ing and tobogganing
were not to be compared with it, he decided.

As he neared the ground the air in the lower part of the vast gorge was
considerably denser than at the greater altitude, and in consequence
his fall was retarded to such an extent that the impact with the ground
occasioned him little more discomfort than a leap of six feet under
ordinary conditions.

Holmsby had fallen at least two hundred yards from the base of the
cliff, the intervening distance being thick with thorn-bushes.
Realising that it would be a matter of considerable difficulty to crawl
through this almost impassable barrier, hampered as he was, Reginald
decided to release the remainder of the helia charge from the
neutraliser.

Over and over again he had to retrace his steps and attempt another
route, while at times the bushes were so tall and thickly leaved that
the towering cliff and the blue sky over his head were both invisible,
but, guided by his compass, Holmsby stuck gamely to his task.

It took him quite half an hour to traverse two hundred yards, and it
was with feelings of relief that he found himself on an open space,
close to the base of the cliff.  Evidently this was a path through the
mountain-pass, for there were signs of horse-traffic, although not
sufficient to check the growth of weeds and thistles.  A little to his
right was a scar or projecting ledge of rock beyond which the rough
path was lost to sight.

"Although these neutralisers are marvellous devices they are a regular
nuisance," he remarked, as he began to recharge the one that had served
him so well.  "Why can't they be charged from the front?  I am afraid I
shall have to use it in the same manner as Dick when he escaped from
our old acquaintances in F.O. 445."

Just then the withered stump of a tree caught his glance.

"Good idea.  I'll lash the neutraliser to this tree, charge it, and
slip the belts over my shoulder.  Then I can cut away the lashings and
make a fresh start."

Acting on this inspiration, Holmsby walked over to the stump and tested
its condition.  It was sound enough for his purpose.  But when he
searched for some cord, which he had felt certain he had placed in one
of his pockets before starting, the desired article was not to be found.

"I must sacrifice my handkerchief, I suppose; and here are some
withies--as strong as an inch rope," he thought.

Just as Holmsby had securely fastened the neutraliser in position and
was about to insert the helia cylinder, the distant clatter of horses'
hoofs caught his ear.  There was no time to unlash the metal case, so,
hastily covering it with a handful of rushes, the sub. made a dash for
cover behind the intervening crag.

Nearer and nearer came the sound, now sharp as the iron-shod hoofs
struck the bare rock, now deadened as they sank upon the soft earth;
but just as Holmsby expected the horsemen to appear in view, he heard a
voice exclaim in Spanish, "Halt!"

"This is a regular nuisance," said Reginald to himself.  "I don't want
to be penned up here for the next hour or so while those fellows are
having a meal.  I may as well have a look at them and see who they are."

Holmsby looked at the crag above him.  Close to where he stood was a
fissure extending in a diagonal direction almost to the top of the
rock, a distance of twenty feet from the ground.  Stealthily he
ascended, making good use of his steel-shod pole, till, unnoticed and
unheard, he gained the summit of the projecting ledge.  Here, without
much fear of discovery, he could command an almost uninterrupted view
of what was going on beneath him.

There were nearly a dozen Talpican irregular cavalry; some were engaged
in collecting wood for a fire, others were hobbling their horses and
unloading their packs; but two of them, evidently officers, were
talking in a threatening manner to a prisoner.

The prisoner was Don Miguel O'Rourke.

The President of Calderia was in a most undignified position.  He was
on horseback, his legs fastened under the animal, his arms secured
behind his back, while a guerilla with his rifle grounded stood ten
feet behind him.

Don Miguel showed no signs of fear; there was a look of haughty
indifference on his face, although he answered his captors readily
enough.

"You see, señor," said one of the officers.  "You are entirely in our
power.  Consider your position.  Your wonderful airship is hopelessly
destroyed, your English friends are dead, but that is a pity since I
should like to see them taken prisoners and shot as filibusters.  We
make no secret of the fact that Don Robiera Sanchez, who, after
attempting to prevent the _Amphibian_ from leaving England, came here
in the airship _Sol d'Este_, was responsible for that achievement.  His
mechanical skill and ingenuity almost rival your own.  But to proceed.
Our fleet, now free from attack, will proceed to Nalcuanho and complete
the work that it had begun.  Talpico will have ceded to her the
territory she demands, and in return Don Robiera Sanchez will occupy
the presidential chair of Calderia.  Now, this is our alternative.
Give us the secret of the mysterious agency that enabled you to raise
the _Amphibian_ from the depths of the sea----"

"Never, señor----"

"Not so fast, Señor O'Rourke.  Either the secret or the garotte.
Picture yourself in the centre of the Plaza, the public indignity, the
first squeeze of the instrument--and, señor, having your throat
compressed by an ever-tightening metal collar is not at all
pleasant--then a hasty burial in an unmarked grave."

"Three times you have placed your base proposal before me, señor,"
replied Don Miguel calmly.  "In every case my reply has been, and will
be, the same.  I, perchance, have failed, but there are others to carry
on my work.  Rest assured that the desired secret will never be known
to any Talpican nor will Talpico occupy a foot of Calderian territory
unhindered while a single Calderian remains in arms.  So, I beg of you,
save your breath for other purposes."

"_Caramba_!  To-morrow you'll tell another tale, Señor O'Rourke.  We
rest here this night; at sunrise we start again, and ere noon will be
at El Cayo.  See, the sun is sinking behind the sierras.  Take heed
lest you see it set for the last time."

During this conversation Holmsby's brain was actively thinking.  Don
Miguel must be rescued--but how?  One way would be to recover the
neutraliser, scale the cliff, and bring the crew of the _Amphibian_ to
the aid of their President; but the risk of Holmsby being discovered,
and also the fact that night was approaching, negatived the proposal.
There was another way.

Placing his spare cartridges beside him on the rock, and making a
cursory examination of his revolver, Holmsby braced himself for the
coming ordeal.  He had no qualms at suddenly opening fire on the
unsuspecting guerillas, since they had threatened their helpless
captive with death.  Also, he was perfectly aware that had either he or
Tresillian fallen into their hands they would have been summarily shot.

Resting the barrel of his weapon upon the edge of the rock, Holmsby
depressed the muzzle till the sights were in line with the intersection
of the guerilla captain's cross-belts.  A gaudy clasp on one of the
leather straps made a splendid mark, yet the Englishman hesitated to
press the trigger.

The Talpican was indisposed to leave his captive in peace.

"You dog--obstinate mule!" he exclaimed.  "I am of a mind to have you
whipped to help you change your mind.  Curse you!  Why do you treat me
as dirt?  Why won't you answer?"

Urging his horse nearer to the captive the guerilla captain raised his
clenched fist.  Holmsby could not see Don Miguel's face, but by his
attitude it seemed that the President never quailed.

Before the threatened blow fell, the Englishman pressed the trigger,
the heavy weapon kicked, and ere the bluish haze had cleared away, the
coward lay writhing on the ground.  Five times more the revolver spat
viciously, and all but one shot took effect.

Jerking open the chambers and allowing the ejector to throw out the
still smoking cylinders, Holmsby began to reload; but before he had
completed this operation the survivors of the party were in flight.
Some leapt into their saddles, others crouching ran by the side of
their horses abandoning their fallen comrades, baggage, and prisoner in
their panic to escape from what they imagined to be a numerous party in
ambush.

But to Holmsby's consternation the steed upon which Don Miguel was
bound began to follow the fugitives--hesitatingly at first, then
increasing its speed.  It was a risk, but the Englishman took it.
Raising his revolver he aimed rapidly and deliberately at the
retreating animal and fired.  The horse staggered a few yards, sank on
its forelegs, and rolled over on the ground with Don Miguel still bound
in the saddle.

Sliding from his elevated position with more haste than caution,
Holmsby gained the ground and ran to aid the Calderiari President.

With another shot he put the struggling animal out of his misery, then
with a swift slash of his knife severed the thongs that bound
O'Rourke's ankles.

"Señor Holmsby!" gasped the rescued man in astonishment.

"Hurt, señor?" asked Reginald, who saw that Don Miguel's face was
deathly white.

"My leg is broken, I am afraid," replied the President.  "The horse
falling on it--but I heard you were killed?"

"Never in better health.  The fresh air of the sierras suits me,"
assented Holmsby.  "But we must be off in case these rogues pluck up
courage and return.  In another quarter of an hour you will be safely
on board the _Amphibian_, I hope."

"The _Amphibian_?  Do I hear aright?"

"Certainly, in spite of what you have just heard from that rascal,"
replied Holmsby, pointing to the motionless form of the guerilla
captain.  "She's damaged--badly, I fear--but I have hopes of getting
her back to Nalcuanho.  Now, Don Miguel, let me assist you."

The President, however, could not put his foot to the ground, His fears
were realised: his ankle was broken.  Holmsby looked upwards at the
dizzy heights, then at the sky.  The sun had disappeared behind the
sierras, and darkness might set in at any moment.

"There's no harm in trying it," he muttered, and, darting off, he made
his way to the spot where he had concealed his neutralisers.

Strapping one to Don Miguel's back, he charged it, then, replacing the
one he had previously worn, Holmsby requested his companion to insert
the helia cylinder.  This done he picked up two rifles that the
guerrillas had left in their flight and withdrew their ramrods.  These
he bound tightly to O'Rourke's injured limb, at the same time passing a
leather belt under the patient's foot, so as to take the strain in
mid-air.

"Now, señor," exclaimed Reginald.  "Hold on tightly to me, and grin and
bear it.  Either we gain the _Amphibian_ in another ten minutes or we
will have to spend a most uncomfortable night with those dead Talpicans
for company."

"I am ready," replied the President.  "But can you manage to climb up
with me on your back?"

"I'll have a good shot at it," said Holmsby resolutely.  "Look here--I
suppose we can't place two cylinders in one neutraliser?  I have some
spares."

"It's not worth the risk," replied Don Miguel.  "There are two dangers:
too much buoyancy and also the great possibility of the appliance
bursting."

"Then that settles it," rejoined Reginald.  "I don't fancy a
thousand-foot drop.  So, stand by--now."

And, kicking off with a vigorous thrust, Holmsby with his companion
gripping him round the shoulders, began the hazardous ascent.




CHAPTER XXII

THE PERILS OF THE ABYSS

Up and up the almost sheer cliff Holmsby made his way, taking advantage
of every convenient crevice or projection.  Often he was compelled to
stop, clutch at the rock with one hand while he wiped from his eyes the
particles of dust that fell from above.

For the first five hundred feet the ascent was comparatively easy,
although more than once Reginald had to ask his companion not to clasp
him so tightly.  Beyond that neither man spoke, nor durst they look
down at the yawning gulf beneath them.

Holmsby was practically supporting a dead weight of a pound--the
difference between the combined weight of the two men and the upward
force of the neutralisers.  It seemed but slight, but to lift even a
pound up a vertical height of one thousand feet was in itself a severe
strain.

Gradually it began to dawn upon the sub-lieutenant that something was
amiss, but trying to console himself that it was the telling effect of
the continuous strain, he stuck to his stupendous task with
determination.  But ere he gained another hundred feet the truth became
apparent: one of the neutralisers was leaking.

Resolving not to say a word to alarm his companion, Reginald held on to
a rock and rested a few moments ere he resumed his strenuous efforts,
but his anxiety not to inform Don Miguel of the impending danger was
relieved when the latter exclaimed:

"_Dios_, Señor Holmsby!  My neutraliser is almost exhausted."

"I feared that it had been getting weaker for some time past.  But
courage; it is only a short distance to the summit."

Reginald spoke boldly, but he knew full well that it was a full three
hundred feet to the broad ledge on which the _Amphibian_ rested.

"Perchance the charge has been in use for some time," suggested
O'Rourke.

"Impossible.  I put a fresh cylinder into the neutraliser you are
wearing.  But I have some more in reserve.  Can we recharge the thing
now?"

"We must be careful to allow the helia to totally escape," said Don
Miguel.  "But what is to happen to us in the meantime?  One neutraliser
will not suffice for both."

"I see a fairly wide cleft just above us," exclaimed Holmsby.  "So hold
on while I make another effort."

It was now as if Holmsby were climbing alone without the aid of the
neutraliser, and burdened in addition with a load on his back.
Scrambling, clutching, heaving, and raising himself by sheer physical
strength, he climbed foot by foot, his breath coming in laboured gasps.

"Good-bye, old comrade," exclaimed Don Miguel suddenly.  "It's too much
for us both.  I'm going to let go."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," gasped Reginald "Hang on like grim
death.  I'm still going strong."

"No, Señor Holmsby, I know you cannot do it, burdened by my weight; so
good-bye once more."

"Stop that," almost shouted the Englishman in desperation.  "Stop that
and hold on, or--or, I'll punch your head!"  Ludicrous as the threat
was under the circumstances, O'Rourke gave in to his companion's
superior will, and Holmsby at length succeeded in gaining the scanty
shelter afforded by the fissure in the face of the cliff.  With a groan
of utter bodily exhaustion he placed his living burden on the
slightly-shelving rock and threw himself down beside his almost
helpless companion.

It was indeed a place of refuge and that was all.  The cleft was about
four feet in height and three in breadth and extended inwards till the
sloping floor met the also converging roof at a distance of not more
than ten feet from the edge.  Besides sloping outwards, the floor was
fairly smooth, affording no foothold save the slight projection which
Holmsby had made good use of when gaining the place of shelter.  A slip
would result in a headlong plunge upon the rocks several hundred feet
below.

Cautiously loosening the valve of Don Miguel's neutraliser, Reginald
allowed the remaining helia to escape and then withdrew the porcelain
cylinder.  It was perfectly dry.  The fault lay not in the exhaustion
of the chemical but in the fact that the water in the apparatus had
either leaked or evaporated.

"All the spare charges we have will not help us now," exclaimed
O'Rourke.

"Then it cannot be helped," replied Holmsby.  "Supposing I give those
fellows above a hail.  They will either lower a rope or else another
neutraliser."

Both men shouted again and again, but no welcome response came in
answer to their appeal for aid.  Strange as it may seem, the
_Amphibian_, tucked away on the ledge, was completely inaccessible by
waves of sound travelling upwards along the face of the cliff.

"Look here!" exclaimed Holmsby, after a few minutes' anxious wait.
"I'll scale the remaining part of the cliff and bring assistance.  My
neutraliser is still active."

"For Heaven's sake don't leave me here helpless and alone," implored
Don Miguel, his courage failing him after a struggle to keep up his
spirits.

"Nonsense, man," exclaimed Reginald, almost roughly.  "It's the only
thing to be done unless we have to stay in this hole for the night."

"I cannot," almost screamed the now nerveless man.  "The horrible gulf
seems to want to drag me into its depths.  Don't leave me, señor, I
implore you."

"Very well, then," replied Reginald savagely, for, iron-nerved himself,
the sight of a man in a pure funk always exasperated him.  "We must
make the best of it; but I warrant you'll be sorry for it before
morning."

Since there was no place to secure his neutraliser, Holmsby released
the remaining helia and unstrapped the apparatus.  Then, better able to
gain a footing on the shelving ledge, he gently dragged his helpless
comrade as far from the brink as possible.  He knew what to expect when
a man with a broken limb has to pass many long and weary hours without
medical attention; so to safeguard himself as well as his companion,
Holmsby deftly passed the strap of O'Rourke's neutraliser round the
ankles of the late wearer, placing the second belt in readiness should
it be required.

Barely had he completed these preparations when the brief twilight
deepened into night and intense darkness brooded over the valley.
Though the horror of the gloomy depth beneath was hidden from sight,
the thought of the awful gulf but a foot from where they were lying
remained.  Sleep was, of course, impossible, since the slightest
involuntary movement might result in the two unfortunate men rolling
over the brink of the tremendous cliff.

"Are you hungry?" asked Holmsby, after a while, anxious to break the
dismal silence.

"Not very," replied Don Miguel.  "Though it was early this morning
since I had anything to eat.  You see we started the attack upon the
Talpican position at six.  But I am thirsty--my throat seems as if it's
full of burning sand."

This was a bad sign, Holmsby thought.  He would have given much to have
one of Don Miguel's injectors at the present moment.  Had he one he
would not have hesitated to render its inventor insensible and risked
the remainder of the ascent in the darkness in order to obtain aid.  He
was also curious to learn the circumstances under which the President
had fallen into the hands of the Talpicans, but, forbearing under
present circumstances to question O'Rourke on this point, he wisely
determined to let that information stand over.

Slowly the hours of darkness passed, till shortly after midnight, a
vivid flash of lightning blazed across the sky, throwing the valley and
the outlines of the distant mountains into strong relief, then leaving
the two men blinking in the corresponding intense darkness.

The heavy peal of thunder that followed seemed to shake the solid rock.
Holmsby gave an involuntary gasp and dug his heels more firmly into the
precarious foothold.  The vibration, intensified by the helplessness of
their position, made it appear as if the ledge was on the point of
bodily giving way.

Then the storm burst.  Flash succeeded flash with great rapidity, the
thunder rolled, and the rain descended in sheets.  Fortunately there
was no wind, although Holmsby momentarily expected the sudden vicious
squall that almost invariably occurs during some period of the
thunderstorm.  He wondered what would happen to the _Amphibian_, only
insecurely anchored in a dangerous position, where one blast from the
northward would hurl her bodily against the rugged cliff.

Presently a steady stream trickled from the roof of the fissure and
gradually increased in volume.  This was to a certain extent
beneficial, since Don Miguel could slake his thirst.  Even Holmsby was
beginning to feel the pangs of hunger and the want of something to
drink, but when availing himself of the now copious gush of water, he
could not help wondering what would happen if the stream became a
torrent and swept the refugees from their confined haven of rest.

At length the storm passed, and although the water continued to run
steadily it did not increase in volume.  Nevertheless the rocky ledge
was rendered so slippery by the moisture that the precarious
holding-ground was made even more unsafe.  Then, as Holmsby had
expected, his companion began to grow restless.  Symptoms of fever were
beginning to appear, and ere long Don Miguel would be delirious.

Holding the hand of the tormented man, Reginald strove to calm his
fears, both real and imaginary, and as he waited thus the peaks of the
distant mountains began to grow visible through the darkness.

"Surely it is not daybreak," thought Holmsby, but as the light
increased he saw that it was caused by the rising moon.  In less than a
quarter of an hour the valley was bathed in mellow light.  This was
comforting, and even the injured man seemed to find ease of body and
mind with the welcome change.

But the rally was only temporary.

"Mr. Holmsby," he whispered, "the pain is returning.  I fear it is more
than I can bear.  Place your hand in this pocket and you'll find a
case.  Inside is an instrument that you know how to use, so make good
use of it."

The tortured man pointed to a small pocket behind the knee of his
riding breeches, so cunningly placed as to be easily overlooked except
by a most careful search.  In it was a thin case about two inches
square, and to Holmsby's satisfaction an injector was within.

"I carry it as a last resource," explained the President.  "That needle
is charged with a most virulent poison."

Holmsby's face fell.

"Here, this won't do," he exclaimed.  "I'm not going to kill you, if
that's what you want me to do."

"I do not.  Be careful.  In the lining of the case is another needle
which will inject the anæsthetic only.  It will keep me quiet for a few
hours at any rate."

"You are quite sure about the needles?"

"Perfectly; now please hasten, for the agony is becoming intense."

Carefully extricating the needle and pneumatic pad from the case,
Reginald stuck the point into the nape of Don Miguel's neck.  The
effect was instantaneous: the Calderian President was dead to all pain.

"A few hours, he said," thought the operator.  "By Jove, I'll risk it."

It was a comparatively easy matter to charge and buckle on the
neutraliser.  Kept by its own upward pressure against the sloping roof
of the hole in the rock it presented no difficulty to Holmsby, who,
setting his back against it, drew the straps across his chest.  In a
few moments he was making his way up the face of the cliff, keeping as
straight a direction as possible, in order to find the crevice again.

Good luck favoured him, for he gained the ledge upon which the
_Amphibian_ rested without much trouble.  In the moonlight the huge
bulk seemed to tower higher than usual, while from the conning-tower
the beams of the two search-lights shot diagonally upwards.  On the
promenade-deck, silhouetted against the illumined face of the cliff,
were the crew, all intently gazing upwards.  Holmsby understood: the
faithful fellows were watching and waiting for his return, only he came
from a direction whence they least expected him.

"Hi, there, you Tresillian.  What d'ye mean by switching on those
search-lights?" he bawled.  "Do you want the airship to find you out
and blow you to smithereens?"

And with a magnificent leap Reginald gained the deck of the _Amphibian_
and grasped his comrade by the hand.

Dick could not bring himself to utter a sound.  He merely used
Holmsby's arm as a pump-handle, while it was with the greatest
difficulty that he could prevent himself from blubbering like a whipped
schoolboy.

"It's all right, Dick.  I'm not a ghost.  If I am, I'm a pretty solid
one, I assure you," his comrade expostulated; then turning to the crew,
he told them in a few words of the precarious position of the President
of Calderia.

For the next few minutes all was confusion and bustle.  Men ran hither
and thither, some donning their neutralisers, others bringing coils of
ropes from the ship's store.  While these preparations were in
progress, Holmsby went below and helped himself to some food and a
stiff dose of Calderian wine.

"Going down again, Rex?" asked Tresillian.  "Can't I go and you stay
here and superintend operations?"

"Impossible, old chap; you wouldn't find the place.  I'm as fit as
anything now.  You stand by with six of the men.  I'll take a length of
fine cord with me.  When I give three tugs, haul away on the life-line."

The rescue of Don Miguel was soon accomplished.  Secured by a rope and
buoyed up by a neutraliser, his apparently lifeless body was hauled up
the remaining portion of the cliff, Holmsby and the men who accompanied
him ascending with hardly an effort by merely holding on the same rope
that was attached to the President's body.

On regaining the _Amphibian_ the wounded man's limb was set in splints,
and the bullet graze on his head carefully dressed, but Holmsby and
Tresillian agreed that the sooner O'Rourke received proper medical
attention the better it would be.

The return to Nalcuanho must be made at all costs, but how?  Provisions
were running short, the supply of water, though augmented by the
torrential rain, was steadily diminishing, and unless a favourable
breeze sprang up the crew of the _Amphibian_ would be compelled to
abandon their craft and make their way back to the plains on foot.

Three days passed, but still the north wind held with aggravating
persistence.  On the morning of the fourth day one of the crew raised
the alarm that an airship was in sight.

Rushing on deck, Reginald brought his glasses to bear upon a small
speck in the sky.  The Calderian was right.  Making her way rapidly in
a southerly direction was the airship commanded by the treacherous Don
Robiera Sanchez, the erstwhile owner of the fictitious F.O. 445.
Either the airship was on the look out for the supposed wreck of the
_Amphibian_ or else it was on its way to assist in the second attack
upon the capital of Calderia.  The _Amphibian_ helpless to repel an
onslaught, was in a perilous situation.  Should the Talpican airship
discover her she was doomed to destruction; on the other hand, ere the
crippled vessel could return to Nalcuanho, she would have to run the
gauntlet since her rival had placed himself between the sierras and the
capital.

"What's to be done now?" asked Tresillian.

"Done?  Give me a favourable breeze, Dick," replied Holmsby, "and, by
Jove, I'll make a fight for it."




CHAPTER XXIII

THE AIRSHIP THAT PASSED IN THE NIGHT

Early on the following morning Holmsby went on deck and, after
receiving the reassuring report from the look-out that nothing untoward
had occurred during the night, anxiously scanned the sky.  There was
not a breath of wind under the lee of the cliff, but at a great
altitude light fleecy clouds were moving slowly in a northerly
direction.  What wind there was above was certainly favourable, but the
vital question arose: whether the Talpican airship would intercept the
_Amphibian_?

The latter was now little better than a balloon.  The damaged
compartments had been temporarily repaired, although patching the metal
shell of the submarine was under the circumstances impossible.  Motive
power there was none, the airship being at the mercy of the winds.  No
doubt she could more than hold her own if attacked by her rival in
mid-air, since by her superior raising power she could easily outsoar
any hydrogen-filled craft, while her armament was still intact.  But
Holmsby did not wish to run unnecessary risks.  For the time being, and
until the _Amphibian_ was thoroughly repaired, he would rather that Don
Robiera Sanchez and his treacherous gang laboured under the delusion
that the dreaded _Amphibian_ was no more.  There was also another
reason.  Should the Talpican airship discover the _Amphibian_ scudding
helplessly before the wind, she could easily keep to windward of her
and wait till either the Calderian craft was blown out to sea or until
she attempted a descent in the vicinity of Nalcuanho.  In that case the
_Amphibian_ could be easily destroyed before the Talpican airship came
within range of the high-angle firing guns of the forts.  To men who
were being attacked by the gnawing pains of hunger the prospect of
being unable to take advantage of a wind that would soon blow them to
the fertile plains of Calderia was exasperating in the extreme; but on
Holmsby explaining the dangers and difficulties of a flight by day the
Calderian crew readily gave way to the judgment of their English
adviser.

Meanwhile Don Miguel was progressing favourably in spite of the lack of
medical attention.  The pure mountain air worked marvels, and, unless
complications followed, his cure bid fair to be rapid and lasting.

Yet the mercurial temperament of the man fell very low, and Holmsby
could see that he was in a fit of depression.

"I'm not fated to be a leader of men, Mr. Holmsby," he said
plaintively.  "At times I feel I have the energy and the power of mind;
but when it comes to the point, alas, I know I am a miserable failure."

"Don't talk like that, señor," said Reginald.  "It is only owing to the
result of your condition.  No man could have led his troops more
gallantly than you did the other day."

"You saw me then?" asked O'Rourke brightening up.

"Saw you--of course we did.  You fought magnificently----"

"And allowed myself to be taken prisoner a few minutes after the battle
had been won.  Again, my courage failed me utterly during the ascent of
the cliff.  I am no hero.  As an inventor, with a knowledge of science,
I hope I am above the ordinary, but as President of Calderia I feel
that the realisations of my lifelong ambitions have fallen short of my
expectations.  Without the aid of you and your friend where should I be
now?"

"You never know your luck," replied Holmsby sententiously; then,
anxious in his modesty to divert the channel of Don Miguel's
expressions of gratitude, he asked:

"How did you find yourself in such an awkward position after the
victory?"

"I can hardly remember.  The wound in my head was troubling me,
although during the attack I scarce noticed it.  Our men were in
pursuit of the enemy.  Somehow I found myself well in the rear,
attended only by an orderly.  I was on the point of going to rejoin
General Saldanha and the rest of my staff, who were trying in vain to
keep our men well in hand, when a volley from a thicket bowled the
orderly over.  Ere I realised it I was surrounded, made prisoner, and
thrown upon a horse.  My captors were all mounted and, riding with the
greatest audacity round our straggling right flank, soon placed a safe
distance between them and the battlefield."

"Couldn't you shout when they made you ride past the flank?"

"Shout, señor?  My word!  With a revolver pointed at one's head one
does not care to waste breath in more ways than one.  Those guerrillas
are most daring men, and it was with the intention of either killing me
or taking me prisoner that they lay in ambush while the rest of the
Talpican army fled.  Was it not your Shakespeare who made one of his
characters say, 'I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety'?
I would willingly give all I possess--even the secret of my great
invention--to live my student days over again.  But what do you propose
to do now, Mr. Holmsby?"

Reginald told him of his plan of action.

"Excellent.  You are what I ought to be, my friend.  I have the
initiative but lack the strength of will to carry out my intentions:
you have both."

"Well, señor, I must be off, for there still remains much to be done.
By the bye--have you a drawing of the motors on board?  If so, we ought
to be able to make a speedy job of assembling the new parts."

"My drawings are here," replied O'Rourke, tapping his forehead.  "It is
the only safe place as far as I am concerned.  But since I am at
present incapable of attending to my work I must needs leave it to
others.  Within three hours I will make rough drawings sufficient to
enable the parts to be turned out or cast; but please remember that
until I give you leave to do otherwise the secret of the motive power
of the _Amphibian_ rests solely between you and me."

It was half an hour before sunset that the crippled _Amphibian_ rose
slowly in the still air.  Fearing that ere she cleared the top of the
cliff she might sustain damage by colliding with the precipice, Holmsby
had caused large sacks filled with grass to be slung around her bulging
sides, while men armed with long poles were stationed on the deck to
fend her off.

All went well till the airship was within fifty feet of the summit.
Here the wind blowing strongly over the peaks of the sierras eddied
treacherously.  At one moment a fierce gale would strike the craft on
the bow, at another the afterpart would be caught by a vicious blast.
Swaying, pitching, and rolling, the huge bulk was helpless in the wind;
but just as it seemed to be on the point of crashing into the rocky
face of the mountains the true wind caught the _Amphibian_ on the beam.
The next moment the peril was past and the airship was being whirled
rapidly northwards.

Holmsby gave a sigh of relief as he realised that all cause of anxiety
was at present at an end, and rejoining Tresillian on the
promenade-deck he had for the first time for some days a minute to call
his own.

"Isn't that magnificent?" exclaimed Dick, pointing to the jagged peaks
of the sierras, that alone of all the landscape were bathed in golden
sunshine.

"Fine," replied Holmsby shortly.  He had no inclination to study
picturesque effects: his sole thoughts were on the question of whether
the _Amphibian_ would reach Nalcuanho before the moon rose.

"We don't seem to be moving very fast," continued Tresillian.  "It
seems more like being on a merry-go-round at a country fair, only no
blaring organ to liven things up."

The _Amphibian_ was slowly see-sawing, her bow describing a double loop
while at intervals she would make a complete revolution on a horizontal
axis; but, looking over the side, Holmsby noticed that the country
beneath was apparently slipping past at a great speed.

"We're doing all right," he exclaimed cheerfully.  "Forty miles an hour
at the least.  The nearer we get to the sea the steadier the breeze
will be."

"But forty miles an hour is too great a rate for us to descend?"

"True; but with luck we ought to be on the coast at sunrise.  In this
country, like many other tropical parts, every evening the wind blows
towards the sea, since the land gives off its heat quicker than does
the water.  Soon after sunrise the conditions are reversed, but ere the
change takes place there is a lull for some hours.  This calm I mean to
take advantage of, if possible.  Now, I'm going to turn in.  Keep the
watch on deck up to the scratch, and don't forget the barometer.  So
long as we are ten thousand feet in the air we won't come to much harm.
But should anything unusual occur call me at once."

Bidding his comrade good-night, Reginald went below and turned in "all
standing," so as to be ready for an emergency.

Left to himself, Dick paced the afterpart of the promenade-deck.  His
knowledge of Spanish was limited to a few words picked up during his
stay on the _Amphibian_, sufficient to give a few orders, but not
enough to engage in conversation.  For'ard the watch on deck were
talking volubly, but keenly alive to their duties, they maintained a
sharp look out.

Darkness had now set in, and, though the airship's erratic behaviour
was still noticeable, it was not so uncomfortable as it had been during
the day when the sight of the earth beneath increased the sense of
motion.

Hour after hour passed.  Not a light was visible from the land, nor was
the cheery glimmer of a lamp permissible on board.  The crew, too, were
deprived of the solace of their otherwise ubiquitous cigarettes.  At
what rate or in what direction the _Amphibian_ was being blown it was
impossible to tell.  To Tresillian it seemed as if the vessel was
floating idly in a void of impenetrable darkness; the stars, even, were
invisible, for the stratum in which the airship was drifting was dense
with a moist, freezingly cold vapour.

As Dick was emerging from the conning-tower, whence he had gone for the
twentieth time that night in order to read the barometer, he hailed the
look out.  There was no necessity to go for'ard.  Away on the beam,
miles away it seemed, a pale gleam of light was visible beyond the
horizon.

Getting his night-glasses to bear upon the spot, Tresillian saw that it
was a search-light flashing intermittently at an immense distance off.
Every time it shot skywards it threw into relief the outlines of a
long, low-lying line of buildings.

"Surely that cannot be Nalcuanho already?" he muttered, as he dived
below to rouse his comrade.  Hastily springing from his bunk, Holmsby
rushed up the ladder and gained the deck.  For some moments he looked
in the direction Dick had pointed out, till one of the crew shouted out
that the light now bore dead astern.  During the interval between
Tresillian last sighting the beam and his reappearance on deck, the
_Amphibian_ had described an arc of 90 degrees.

Reginald's first act on spotting the light was to take its bearings
with the standard compass.  It bore N.E. by N., so that, making due
allowance for magnetic variation, Holmsby knew that its true direction
was due north.

"What do you make of it?" asked Tresillian, but Holmsby, with his
night-glass glued to his eyes, silenced him by a gesture.

"K.L.V.P.--stop--V.M.C.G.B.--stop--T.Z.J.," he read.  "No intelligible
meaning.  They're signalling in cipher.  That search-light is coming
from one of the warships lying off Nalcuanho Harbour."

"One of the Talpican fleet?"

"Shouldn't be surprised; but keep a bright look out.  There'll be a
reply from another ship shortly."

The coded message now ended, and the darkness seemed blacker than
before.

Suddenly, at a distance of about a thousand feet beneath the
_Amphibian_ a vivid flash of light streamed diagonally upwards.  For a
few seconds the beam remained stationary, then broke into a succession
of "dots and dashes."

"Silence, there!" exclaimed Holmsby sharply as some of the men began to
talk in quick, excited sentences.

The _Amphibian_ was floating almost directly over her rival, the
Talpican airship.

Swiftly, yet as noiselessly as possible, the crew cleared away the
quick-firers, the search-lights were screened and connected up ready to
direct their penetrating beams upon the floating monster beneath.

Yet Holmsby forbore to give the order to open fire.  Not from any
motive of humanity: the despicable treachery that accompanied their
former meeting had put Don Robiera Sanchez outside the pale.  But,
knowing from his previous experiences afloat, the great difficulty of
hitting a source of light at a practically unknown range, the
sub-lieutenant decided not to take the risk.

The next instant he regretted his decision, but it was too late to drop
an explosive upon the hydrogen-charged airship.  Holmsby recognised a
new danger.  The Talpican aircraft was running slowly dead against the
wind, while the _Amphibian_ was drifting, absolutely beyond control,
straight for the path of the beam of the former's search-light.  It
would be useless to ascend: no matter the altitude the penetrating rays
would make the grey hull of the _Amphibian_ appear as if sheened with
silver.  In another half a minute--

"After gun, there--stand by.  Elevate your sights to 800 metres."

Since it had to be done, Holmsby wisely decided not to wait till his
gun's crew were "spotted" and dazzled by the glare of the search-light.

Now or never.  With a fervent prayer for a successful shot he was on
the point of giving the order to fire when the Talpican airship's
search-light was suddenly screened.  With a grunt of disappointment the
Calderian gun-layer stood back from the night-sights and rubbed his
eyes, while the captain of the guns promptly dropped the firing-key
lest a spasmodic action on his part would release the charge and send
it hurtling aimlessly through space.

The next five minutes was a period of anxious suspense.  Holmsby could
see the blinking of the distant search-light.  At any moment it might
cease and the Talpican airship would reply.  Even in the bitterly cold
air Reginald could feel the perspiration standing out in beads upon his
forehead.

Then the expected flash leapt skywards, but, hurrah! far astern of the
rapidly drifting _Amphibian_.  In that five minutes the Calderian
airship had passed through the normal path of her rival's search-light,
and nothing short of a deliberate alteration of the powerful beam would
reveal her to her antagonist.

"I'd give twelve months' seniority to know what those fellows are
saying," he exclaimed.  "Ten to one, Dick, they are planning a combined
attack upon the forts of Nalcuanho."

But Holmsby was wrong in his surmise.  The Talpican airship had
notified her maritime consorts that her supply of hydrogen was getting
low, and that she intended to return to the depot at San José to
replenish her gas-chambers.

When the Talpican flagship again replied, Holmsby once more took a
bearing.

The compass gave exactly the same bearing as previously, so that to his
great satisfaction Reginald knew that the _Amphibian_ was still keeping
to the desired course, unless--an extremely improbable event--the wind
had changed and was blowing in exactly the opposite direction.

Soon the flashes ceased, and Holmsby fancied that he heard the deep
buzz of the airship of which they had so nearly fallen athwart; but
after a further short interval the noise ceased and the _Amphibian_ was
left floating and drifting in soundless, impenetrable space.

"We may as well drop down a few thousand feet," remarked Reginald,
before returning to his bunk.  "There's nothing to fall foul of at two
thousand: that will afford a safe margin.  If nothing occurs in the
meanwhile turn me out at daybreak."

At length the pale dawn glimmered in the east, and as the twilight
quickly changed to day the crew of the _Amphibian_ could determine
their position.  Nothing could have been better.

The crippled craft was floating in the now light breeze immediately
over the city of Nalcuanho.  The Talpican airship had disappeared,
while seaward a haze of black smoke showed that the blockading squadron
had temporarily retired in order, presumably, to replenish their coal
and fuel.

"Let her come down!" exclaimed Holmsby, who had, in accordance with his
instructions, been roused from his slumbers.  "Bring her down on that
piece of ground alongside the inner basin."

As he spoke, a puff of smoke burst from one of the batteries on the
landward side of the city, and a huge rocket came soaring skywards.  It
struck the _Amphibian_ on the port quarter, spluttered venomously for a
few seconds, then shot earthwards.  Had the _Amphibian's_ outer skin
been made of anything but asbestos-lined duralumin and had the
ballonettes consisted of hydrogen or other highly-inflammable gas her
destruction would have been swift and complete.

"What are those fools firing for?" asked Holmsby.  "Surely the place is
not in the hands of the enemy?  Here, run up the ensign.  They are
mistaking us for the enemy."

Ere this could be done another rocket whizzed past the airship at less
than ten yards' distance; but on the Calderian ensign being displayed a
bugle could be distinctly heard calling the "Cease fire!"

The mistake was, under the circumstances, justifiable.  The rumour that
the _Amphibian_ had been totally destroyed had already reached the
capital, and the sudden appearance of an airship was interpreted as the
first phase in the threatened assault by air and sea upon the forts and
batteries of Nalcuanho.

Holmsby's doubts were now at rest.  On all the forts the Calderian
ensign was hoisted, while by means of his glasses he saw that the
troops wore the light grey uniforms of the Republic.

Consummately handled, the _Amphibian_ descended, her speed through the
air now allowing the steering-rudders and elevating-planes to be
brought into action, and with hardly a jolt the huge vessel was brought
to earth and securely made fast in the desired mooring-ground.

It was with difficulty that the troops were able to keep back the
throng of excited citizens, whose delight at the _Amphibian's_ return
was doubly increased by the good news that their President, though
wounded, was once more in their midst.  As soon as the lofty gangway
could be rigged up and placed in position, Don Miguel was carefully
lifted out on a stretcher and taken to his official residence.  But
before he went the promised rough drawings of the _Amphibian's_
propelling machinery were placed in Reginald's hands.

"If these are your rough drawings I wonder what your finished plans are
like, by Jove!" exclaimed Holmsby, for the draughtsmanship was beyond
reproach.  How a crippled and pain-racked man could produce such
careful and elaborate workmanship passed his comprehension.

There was no time to be lost.  If the long-threatened attack upon the
capital was to be averted the _Amphibian_ must be refitted with the
least possible delay.  Swarms of artisans took her in hand.  The
shattered plates of the submarine hull were removed, the damaged
shafting and propellers were removed to serve as patterns for a new
forging, while under Holmsby's personal supervision the motors were
taken to a jealously-guarded workshop where the separate parts were
carefully copied by the skilled mechanics.  The actual assembly of the
parts was to be undertaken by Holmsby and the engineer of the
_Amphibian_.

Thanks to his training in the workshops of Osborne and Dartmouth the
sub-lieutenant was well conversant with the nature of the work, and in
less than a week, working at high pressure, the motors were again in
position.  All that remained was to wait until the extensive damage to
the inner plating had been made good, a task that would take not less
than another eight days, and then only if no unforeseen hitch occurred.

On the day following the completion of the reconstruction of the
propelling machinery a motor-launch arrived at Nalcuanho harbour, after
having made a hazardous passage from the Talpican port of San José.
Her crew consisted of three Calderian mining-engineers who had been
taken prisoners and sent to San José during the initial stages of the
war.  They had succeeded in breaking out of prison, and with the
greatest audacity took possession of the motorboat and ran out of the
harbour in broad daylight.  Their flight was not discovered until well
beyond the range of the forts and, though chased by a Talpican torpedo
boat, they contrived to shake off their pursuers.  They reported the
_Don Robiera Sanchez_ airship had returned to San José, having
developed a leak in one of the gas-chambers, and that some days must
elapse ere the craft would be ready for service.

That afternoon Holmsby strolled down to the quay in order to look at
the little craft in which the prisoners had effected their escape.

It was barely twenty-four feet in length, with a sharp entry and
exceptionally clean run aft.  Save for a short turtle-back deck for'ard
and a small space decked in aft, the boat was entirely open.  Her
motor, made by a well-known British firm, consisted of six cylinders
developing 200 horse-power, and capable of driving her at anything
between twenty and twenty-five knots.

As Holmsby looked at the little craft a thought flashed suddenly across
his mind.  He had an idea: the idea developed, and in less than five
minutes he was making his way to the quarters of the Commandante.




CHAPTER XXIV

HOLMSBY'S RAID

General Alonzo Saldanha, the Commandante of the city of Nalcuanho and
Acting-Commander-in-Chief of the Calderian army, was a short,
pompous-looking man of about sixty years of age.  His bronzed features,
iron-grey hair and fiercely up-turned moustache gave him a very martial
appearance, and in truth he was possessed of no mean military skill.
But his creed was "Calderia for the Calderians," and although he was
implicitly trusted by the President he harboured an intense dislike for
the two Englishmen on whom Don Miguel set such store.

Nevertheless he greeted Holmsby with punctilious courtesy.

"I have just been to see the motor-boat in which the prisoners
escaped," said Holmsby, "and it struck me that with a crew of
determined men much could be done with her.  I understand that the
airship of Don Robiera Sanchez is at San José, and is very carelessly
guarded.  With ordinary luck it would be possible to land a few miles
from the town, destroy the ship, and re-embark on the motor-launch
before the enemy could realise what had happened."

"I, too, have been planning a raid into Talpican territory, Señor
Holmsby," replied the Commandante, unwilling to be thought lacking in
initiative.  "I thought of sending half a dozen picked men by motor-car
to the base of the sierras.  Thence they could make their way through
one of the more neglected passes, seize horses and make a dash for San
José.  What do you think of that?"

"They would have to go a long way from their base of operations,
Commandante," observed Reginald.  "And you must also take into account
the difficulties occasioned by the use of wireless telegraphy and
telephony in modern warfare."

"True, but for every man who can be of use in a boat we have a hundred
skilled in guerrilla warfare and accustomed to making long journeys on
horseback.  As you are aware, our navy was not to be compared with the
Talpican fleet, and now ceases to exist.  In fact I know of no one
capable of leading an expedition by sea.  Don Carlos is, as you know,
still incapacitated by wounds."

"It is my intention to ask your permission to make the attempt," said
Reginald calmly.

"You!" exclaimed the Commandante, sitting bolt upright and tugging at
his moustache.  General Saldanha's first thought was that this young
Englishman would add to his already coveted reputation should he
succeed; then, on the other hand, the business would be an extremely
hazardous one.  The chances were that Holmsby would fall into the hands
of the Talpicans, and then--but the Commandante was, after all, a
soldier, and he thought it his duty to warn even the man whom he had
long regarded as a dangerous rival.

"You will be shot as a filibuster if you are caught, señor," he added.

"That is a risk which I have taken into consideration, Commandante,"
replied Reginald.  "The fact remains that with this means of offence in
our possession we ought not to let a chance slip.  As for the
_Amphibian_ she will not be ready for quite another week, and in the
interval my companion, Mr. Tresillian, will superintend matters.  So
there is no reason why I should not make the attempt."

"Very well then," said General Saldanha.  "I will write out an order
handing over the boat to you.  You may also take four men with you."

Overjoyed at his good fortune, Holmsby bade the Commandante farewell
and took his leave.  On returning to the _Amphibian_ he informed Dick
of what he proposed to do, steadfastly refused to let his comrade
accompany him, and then set about to pick his crew.  The four men he
required were soon forthcoming, for Holmsby did not want to have any
but those who were serving on board the airship.  Fortunately two of
them were conversant with the handling of a marine motor, while all,
making allowances for the mercurial Calderian temperament, were to be
trusted.

Before noon the motor-boat was taken out for a trial spin, and Holmsby
was very well satisfied with her speed and seaworthiness.  Stores, a
large supply of petrol, arms and ammunition were placed on board, and
everything was in readiness to make a start for San José early in the
afternoon.

Holmsby had hoped to keep the object of his expedition a secret, but
greatly to his annoyance the news leaked out, and before the start was
made the intelligence was all over the city.  This was more than
annoying, for it was well known that there were spies especially
amongst those of the Extremist section of the revolutionists who still
remained at Nalcuanho.  There was no time to be lost if the raid was to
be carried out before the Talpicans heard of the departure of the
daring adventurers.

At exactly two o'clock the motor-launch started on its long voyage.  If
all went well Holmsby hoped to arrive off the Talpican coast about an
hour after sunset and reach the harbour of San José at about two in the
morning.  Fortunately the sea was as smooth as glass, and the boat,
dashing along at twenty knots, soon began to lessen the distance
betwixt her and her destination.

Presently one of the crew, who had occasion to look for something in
the space under the turtle-back deck, told Reginald that there was a
man lying under the folds of a tarpaulin.  Unceremoniously the stowaway
was hauled from his place of concealment, and Holmsby recognised him as
being one of the three men who had escaped from his prison in San José.

The man was frank in his explanation.  He had heard of the object of
the raid, and, having a score to pay against his former captors, he
meant to become a member of the expedition.

"You see, señor," he exclaimed extending his hands, palms uppermost,
and shrugging his shoulders deprecatingly, "I know much of San José:
therefore I am of much use to you.  Moreover did not I, with my two
comrades, take possession of the boat?  Have I not a right to be in it?"

Holmsby was annoyed at first, but since he could not get rid of the
man, who, after all, might prove of great service by his intimate
knowledge of the town of San José and its vicinity, he resolved to make
the best of the business.

Night succeeded day, and still the launch maintained her rapid pace
through the water until an alternating red and white light appeared
above the horizon.

This Holmsby knew to be the light house on the Sobra Shoal, a dangerous
ledge of rocks extending seaward and for nearly a cable's length from
the western side of the entrance to San José Harbour.  Presently the
shore lights began to loom up: the motor-boat was approaching hostile
waters.

Slackening his speed to seven knots Holmsby steered the craft closer
in-shore till the roar of the ground swell could be distinctly heard.
This was another item in the raiders' favour since the noise of the
surf drowned the pulsations of the motor.

"There is the creek we are looking for, señor," exclaimed one of the
men pointing to an ill-defined gap in the white line of broken water.
"It is less than twenty minutes' walk from the town."

Round swung the launch and with barely sufficient speed beyond what was
required to give her steerage way she headed for the opening.  Within
the entrance the place appeared absolutely deserted, and Holmsby was
about to congratulate himself upon this fact, when there was a dull,
grinding sound.  The little craft trembled from keel to gunwale, then
lifted by a wave was thrown into deep water.  She had bumped heavily
upon a submerged rock, and ere the shore was reached it was apparent
that the boat was badly damaged.

"Stuff your cap into the hole," exclaimed Reginald in a low voice, but
before the seamen could raise the floor boards the water was level with
the engine-bed.  Nothing could stop the incoming flood; the motor
gasped spasmodically, then stopped.

"We'll have to swim for it," exclaimed Holmsby.  "Make sure that you
have your revolvers."

As he spoke the gunwale of the waterlogged craft dipped and she sank in
three feet of water.  Her crew, holding their pistols well above their
heads, waded ashore.

They were, indeed, in a precarious position: fifty miles from the
frontier, their retreat cut off, and within a short distance of a
hostile town.  The Calderians looked at one another in blank despair.
The sudden reverse of fortune had completely unmanned them.

"Come on, men," shouted Holmsby encouragingly.  "We'll do what we can.
If we are taken they can't hurt _you_"; but he knew full well that the
Talpicans were perfectly justified in shooting him on sight--a subject
of a neutral country taking up arms against a friendly state.

"Now, señor," he continued, addressing the former prisoner, who seemed
fated to return to his place of incarceration, "lead the way to the
spot where the airship is lying.  Stand to your arms, men; but,
remember, not a shot till I give the word."

Led by the mining-engineer the raiders followed in Indian file.  The
path from the creek ascended a steep hill that was thickly clothed with
young olive trees.  Here a hundred men could find shelter; but on
gaining the summit of the rising ground the adventurers found
themselves deprived of cover.  The town of San José, now shrouded in
darkness, lay beneath them.

Cautiously the six men descended the gently sloping ground.  Twice they
threw themselves flat upon the grass, fearing that some belated
Talpican was passing that way; but their alarm was unnecessary.  All
was quiet.

Now they were threading their way through the narrow squalid alleys on
the outskirts of the town.  Well it was that the ex-captive had
accompanied them, for in that maze of buildings they would otherwise
have been hopelessly lost.

"Here we are, señor," whispered the guide, as the raiders halted on the
edge of an open square.  "The airship should be lying on our right."

"Carry on, then," replied Holmsby briefly, and treading close on one
another's heels the Calderians followed their intrepid leader.

Suddenly the guide halted--so abruptly that Holmsby nearly ran into
him.  Peering through the darkness the Englishman could discern the
figure of a sentry.  The Talpican was leaning against a porch, his
rifle with its long sword-bayonet held carelessly in the hollow of his
arm, while, utterly unsuspecting danger, he was humming softly to
himself.

Holmsby gauged the distance.  Could he cover the intervening space
before the man could recover from his surprise and give the alarm?

Presently the man shouldered his rifle and moved on--not, as Holmsby
expected, to walk his rounds, but to shelter from the now keen wind on
the other side of the porch.

Softly treading on the sand that bordered the tiled path the
sub-lieutenant gained the spot where the sentry had been standing.  His
men followed, till the angle of the wall was inconveniently crowded.

But instead of returning, the sentry stood still.  Holmsby saw a faint
glimmer, followed by an impatient Caramba, while the rank smell of a
South American match was drifted to his nose.

Keenly on the alert, Reginald waited till the sentry struck another
match: this time with better results, for he proceeded to light a
cigarette.

Blinded by the glare, the soldier was scared out of his wits to find a
powerful grasp upon his neck and a heavy hand crushing the cigarette
and clasping his mouth.  Thinking that he had been caught by one of his
officers, the man did not attempt to struggle till it was too late; in
less time than one could count he was lying gagged and bound upon the
ground.

Still advancing cautiously the raiders gained the side of the airship.
It was not partially deflated as Holmsby expected, but was straining on
its securing ropes.  "Men," he whispered, "here lies our way of escape.
We'll board her and cut her out."

The long bridge-like "nacelle" was within ten feet of the ground.  A
light was burning in the 'midships cabin, but no one was visible either
on the airship or on the ground.

Swiftly the lithe Calderians clambered up the ropes.  Two made their
way for'ard, their keen machetes in their hands, two ran softly aft,
while Holmsby and the mining-engineer, with their revolvers ready for
instant use, took their stand at twenty feet from the door of the
occupied cabin.

Suddenly the after part of the airship gave a sickening heave and
reared itself so high in the air that Holmsby and his companion had to
hold on like grim death.  The stern, liberated before the bows, was
tilting upwards; but the men for'ard were not much behind their
comrades with their keen blades, and like a clay pigeon released from
the trap the airship leapt a thousand feet in the air.

As it did so the door of the cabin opened and a man looked out.  The
light streaming over his shoulders fell upon the Calderian uniforms of
the two seamen who had completed their work aft and had rejoined their
leader.  With a yell the man, ignoring Holmsby's demand to yield,
sprang forward, then placing one hand on the rail surrounding the
"nacelle," vaulted--not as he thought for a distance of ten feet to the
ground--but into space.

"Mind, señor, there is still someone within," cautioned one of the men
as Holmsby was about to explore the still lighted cabin.

"Surrender, señor: the airship is ours," shouted Reginald.

In reply a tall broad-shouldered man appeared from behind the door,
and, brandishing an automatic pistol, fired rapidly and
indiscriminately at the group confronting him.  Holmsby felt a bullet
plough through his hair, while a sharp cry behind him told him that one
of the shots at least had taken effect.

Holmsby raised his revolver and pressed the trigger.  The bullet struck
his antagonist's automatic pistol, knocking it from his hand, and being
deflected passed through the partition of the cabin; and ere the
Talpican could draw his knife, Holmsby threw himself upon him.

Fiercely they struggled upon the swaying floor, until the Calderian
crew, coming to the rescue, bound the still resisting man hand and foot
and unceremoniously bundled him into the cabin.

Telling one of the men to guard the prisoner, Reginald made a hasty
inspection of the captured craft, but no more Talpicans were found.
Having found the valves regulating the supply of hydrogen, the prize
crew took steps to check the still upward tendency of the airship,
which had now reached an altitude of seven thousand feet.  This done
the propelling gear was inspected and found to be in working order, and
in less than an hour the captured vessel, with her four propellers
running at 500 revolutions per minute, was shaping a course towards the
frontier.

Having detailed three men, one of whom had received a slight flesh
wound in the shoulder, to keep the vessel on her course, and one to
attend to the motors which required frequent lubrication owing to
neglect on the part of the late owners to take proper care of the
intricate machinery during the time the vessel was under repairs,
Holmsby entered the 'midships cabin where the mining-engineer was
mounting guard over the prisoner.

Now in the lamplight, Reginald recognised his captive.  It was Don
Robiera Sanchez, the owner of the bogus F.O. 445, the prime mover in
the treacherous attacks at St. Piran's Round, at Zennor Hill, and again
in the air above the sierras.  The recognition was mutual, but Don
Robiera, beyond giving Reginald a look of venomous hatred, said not a
word; while Holmsby on his part refrained from crowing over a fallen
rival.  The other occupant of the car on the occasion of their first
meeting was the man who had leapt to his death when the airship was
boarded by the raiders.

Holmsby knew that he had no option but to hand his prisoner over to the
Calderian authorities.  Of his fate there could not be much doubt.  Don
Robiera Sanchez was a Calderian Extremist, who, not content with taking
an active part in the civil war, had used his influence, only too well,
to induce the Republic of Talpico to invade his country.  But for him
the invasion, that was all but successful, would never have taken
place.  As a traitor to the Republic of Calderia his doom was
practically sealed.

The captured airship, the _Sol d'Este_, was not to be compared with the
_Amphibian_ either in speed, capability of handling, or in aggressive
or defensive power.  As it was, pounding against a strong hard wind,
she made so little progress that daylight found her still twenty miles
from the frontier.

Keeping fairly close to the ground, for Holmsby wisely decided to
retain as much ballast as possible until the surmounting of the sierras
had to be accomplished, the _Sol d'Este_ presently passed above the
camp of the Talpican army, for after their defeat the invaders had
fallen back across the frontier until the result of the threatened sea
and air attack upon Nalcuanho was known.

Thinking the airship was on her way to act in consort with the fleet,
the soldiers turned out of their tents and cheered lustily.  But their
enthusiastic demonstrations were quickly changed into yells and shouts
of execration when Holmsby, with pardonable pride, caused the Calderian
ensign to be hoisted over the green and white flag of Talpico.

The troops were restrained by their officers from opening fire upon the
airship; no doubt they feared the possibility of having dynamite bombs
dropped amidst them, but Holmsby, finding that there was no actual
hostile action, refrained from taking advantage of the powerful means
of offence at his command.

It was late in the afternoon that the sentries on the batteries and
forts of Nalcuanho saw the airship appearing from the south.  The
greatest excitement prevailed, for should the apparently hostile craft
succeed in escaping the defensive fire of the rockets, the city would
be at its mercy.  But when the oncoming craft, flying low as if
scorning the threatened fire of the batteries, was seen to display the
Calderian ensign over the Talpican national flag, Nalcuanho gave itself
over to unrestrained enthusiasm.

The _Sol d'Este_ was brought to earth just beyond the outer line of
defences, and Holmsby and his five comrades were received with open
arms.  But in the midst of these demonstrations of joy there was a
certain section who bit their lips at the Englishman's unforeseen good
fortune.

General Alonzo Saldanha and a few of his staff were already resolved to
check the influence and popularity of Reginald Holmsby.




CHAPTER XXV

A TRAITOR'S DOOM

"How is the work progressing, Dick?" asked Holmsby, after the first
greetings between the reunited pair were said.

"Better than I expected," replied Tresillian, who, clad in blue
overalls and smothered with grease and dirt, looked little different
from the Calderian mechanics.  "We ought to have everything ship-shape
again by the day after to-morrow.  But what's to be done with your
prize--is she going to be employed against her late owners?"

"I scarcely know.  You see it's hardly my affair; but since the _Sol
d'Este_ is not a patch on the _Amphibian_, and is moreover a
hydrogen-inflated craft, I think it would be preferable to dismantle
her.  Should it blow hard when she's under way she can't make headway;
where she is now lying she is at the mercy of the next strong wind,
while the presence of a huge bag of highly explosive gas is prejudicial
to the safety of the city.  I mean to point this out to the Commandante
and suggest that he has the envelope deflated.  At some future time,
with helia ballonettes and better propelling machinery, she ought to
make something of a show."

"How about that rascal Don Robiera Sanchez?  What are they going to do
with him?"

"I hear he's to be brought to court-martial this afternoon.  Somehow or
other I feel sorry for the poor brute.  I almost wish it hadn't fallen
to my lot to capture him.  Hello, what's this?"

An orderly, bearing two official envelopes, walked up to where the two
Englishmen were talking at the foot of the _Amphibian's_ gangway, and
with a salute handed one to each of the comrades.

The documents were summonses for Reginald and Dick to appear as
witnesses at the forthcoming trial of Robiera Sanchez, a subject of the
Republic of Calderia, on a charge of conducting traitorous
correspondence with a hostile state and with taking up arms against the
Republic.

"Hang it all!" exclaimed Holmsby.  "Can't we manage to wriggle out of
this?  Surely they've enough evidence to shoot the man without dragging
us into it.  I'll run over and see the Commandante."

But the sub-lieutenant's mission was fruitless.  General Saldanha, on
the grounds of absolute necessity, refused to dispense with the
evidence of the two Englishmen.

At two o'clock that afternoon the Court assembled.  Even Don Miguel,
carried thither on an ambulance, had to be present.  Compared with a
British court-martial, the trial was almost a farce.  There were five
judges, all of them officers of the Republican army.  Altogether twelve
witnesses were called for the prosecution, but no one was allowed to
give evidence on behalf of the prisoner.

Don Robiera, in spite of the knowledge that the verdict was a foregone
conclusion, defended himself with admirable coolness and skill, basing
his plea upon the fact that when he took action against the so-called
Government there was no President; consequently the constitution of the
Republic of Calderia was not legal.

But when asked to explain why he attempted to harm the life and
property of Don Miguel O'Rourke on British territory the prisoner
merely shrugged his shoulders and stated that he had a private feud
against the inventor of the _Amphibian_, and since the vendetta, in a
modified form, was still recognised in Calderia, his action was
therefore justified.

"Nothing more nor less than this--Don Miguel O'Rourke robbed me of my
secret, and the _Amphibian_ is the result of my discovery which was
stolen from me."

A hush of deep amazement swept over the crowded court.  Don Miguel,
pale and shaking with emotion, attempted to rise, but in vain.

"If your assertion be true," continued the senior judge, "How comes it
that your airship, the _Sol d'Este_, is admittedly inferior to the
_Amphibian_?"

"There was neither time nor opportunity to apply my invention to that
particular craft."

"Your Excellency: you hear what the man states?" asked the prosecution.
"It merely requires your word on oath to give him the lie direct."

"I can safely assert that I never had any communication whatsoever with
the prisoner on the subject of either his or my invention," replied Don
Miguel slowly and emphatically.  "I was unaware, up to this moment,
that he had any pretensions with reference to scientific invention.
And, above all, I cannot express myself too strongly in words that the
suggestion that I robbed him of the fruits of his enterprise is utterly
false."

"But I can prove it to be otherwise," stoutly asserted the prisoner.
"If I may be provided with paper and ink I will write down the formulas
on which the principles of Don Miguel's so-called invention are based.
If Don Miguel will also write down his formulas, the two can be
compared, and the truth of my assertion vindicated."

"In the interests of the Republic I cannot accede to the prisoner's
request," said Don Miguel.  "But if Don Robiera will, on his part,
write what he has suggested, I swear by the Virgin that I will
truthfully give my opinion upon the merits of the formulas."

Writing materials were thereupon handed to the prisoner, and, after
scribbling vigorously for some time, he handed the paper to the
President of the Court, who in turn passed it on to Don Miguel.

Holmsby, who was watching O'Rourke, particularly noticed that his face
paled even more than hitherto, and his hands trembled slightly as he
held the paper.

"Señors!" exclaimed Don Miguel, "only one formulas out of five has any
worth.  Collectively the results derived from them would be useless,"
and deliberately tearing the document into small pieces he thrust them
into his breast-pocket.

"Rather a high-handed proceeding, Rex," whispered Tresillian, and
Holmsby acquiesced with a nod.

Don Robiera, who had hitherto preserved a dignified demeanour, now
burst into a torrent of expletives directed towards his rival the
President of Calderia.  He even tried to throw himself upon Don Miguel,
but was prevented by the soldiers who were guarding him.

The rest of the trial was of the briefest description, and the
anticipated verdict of guilty was followed by the sentence that the
prisoner was to be shot within the walls of the prison at daybreak on
the following day.

As Holmsby and his companion were leaving the court, General Saldanha
beckoned to them.

"You must be present at the execution, señors," he began when the
Englishmen had crossed over to where he was standing.

"Is it necessary, Commandante?"

"It is the President's wish that you should do so."

"But why 'must'?" asked Holmsby pointedly.  "Supposing we refuse?"

"You are temporarily in the service of the Republic of Calderia; under
what circumstances or conditions I know not, nor do I feel inclined to
discuss the matter.  But as servants of the State, since your presence
is required, you must be present."  And with the air of a man who had
said what he meant to say and no more, General Saldanha turned on his
heel and walked towards his quarters.

"What an old fire-eater, Rex," exclaimed Tresillian.  "I suppose we
must go."

"I mean to see Don Miguel first," replied Holmsby.  "There are one or
two questions I should very much like to ask him.  They've just carried
him back to his quarters, so wait here a few moments, and I'll look him
up."

Holmsby had no difficulty in gaining admittance to the President's
presence.  Don Miguel greeted him cordially and expressed his highest
admiration for the way in which Holmsby had effected his great coup.

"And it's in consequence of that business that I'm here now," said
Reginald.  "Now look here, Don Miguel, I've always found you straight,
and I hope you have the same opinion about me.  I want to ask you two
questions: first, why did you tear that paper up?"

"To safeguard my interests and those of the Republic," replied Don
Miguel, with a suspicion of hauteur.

"I fancy I've heard those words before," replied Reginald grimly.  "To
me the affair looks somewhat suspicious.  Were Don Robiera's formulas
similar to yours?"

"I have already sworn that they were not, Mr. Holmsby.  But in
confidence I may tell you that they were so near the right thing that
for the moment I was on thorns.  He nearly made the discovery, but one
small yet important detail was omitted.  You doubt me, señor?"

"Your action seemed suspicious."

"I told you that at some future date I would hand over to you my
supreme secret: the formulae for the preparation of helia.  My promise
I mean to perform, but in the meantime I will also give you these
fragments of paper.  They can be easily pieced together and deciphered.
When the time comes, Mr. Holmsby, for you to have my formulae you will
then see that I have vindicated myself.  Is that sufficient?"

Holmsby bowed.

"I hope it may be so," he replied.  "No doubt Don Robiera imagined that
he had a grievance and made the accusation.  Now, my second question,
señor: why did you order us to be present at the execution?"

"I did not order; I merely requested that you should be there."

"And why?"

"That requires an explanation.  Ever since my return after the victory
over the Talpicans I have had doubts as to the loyalty of the army--and
the Commandante, General Alonzo Saldanha in particular.  Something
seems to tell me that my influence and popularity are on the wane.
Tell me what is your private opinion of the Commandante?"

"Not a bad old sort as far as Calderian officials go," replied
Reginald, with typical British candour.  "A bit pompous, perhaps, but
keen in the execution of his duties.  You must be labouring under a
delusion, Don Miguel.  Is it likely that, with the war progressing
favourably and with every prospect of success, the people wish to
change their President?"

"You are not acquainted with the true Calderian temperament as I am,"
said O'Rourke.  "In success or misfortune there is a constant desire
for social upheaval.  It is part of their nature.  Therefore I should
not be surprised if I were not shortly asked to take my departure.
Fortunately I have made all preparations for that probability; but, at
the same time, I still wish to retain my position.  Saldanha may be a
good general, but he would never make even a passable President, so I
have no fears that he will supplant me.  But there is one man whom I
have occasion to fear as long as he remains alive: and that man is Don
Robiera Sanchez.  I have reason to believe that Saldanha has a secret
understanding with that rogue; therefore I ask--not command--Mr.
Tresillian and you, as the only persons I can implicitly trust, to see
that the sentence of the court-martial is properly carried out."

"Under the circumstances I suppose we cannot refuse, although this
business is not in my line, señor.  But, at the same time, I hope your
fears are ungrounded?"

"With Don Robiera dead my mind will be easier," replied Don Miguel.

"But mine won't," muttered Holmsby under his breath.  "I feel almost
responsible for the whole concern."  Then aloud he added, "I will make
my report at eight o'clock to-morrow, señor.  At eleven, with your
permission, the _Amphibian_ starts for San José.  Within a week I hope
that the war will be over and all differences settled to your
satisfaction.  Then, having carried out our part of the compact, Mr.
Tresillian and I will return home."

"Much to my regret, Mr. Holmsby."

Taking leave of the wounded President, who was still making rapid
progress towards recovery, Reginald hastened back to his comrade and
informed him of the reason that Don Miguel gave for wishing them to be
present at the execution.

Tresillian had little sleep that night.  The shadow of the tragedy
weighed heavily on his mind.  Holmsby, on the contrary, betrayed no
emotion.  He had witnessed similar spectacles in West Africa, when,
during the Bangwan River Expedition, four deserters from a West African
regiment were shot for taking up arms against their former comrades.

Just before sunrise the two Englishmen were aroused and, proceeding to
the prison, found that the preparations for the carrying out of the
sentence were already well advanced.  Five feet from a blank wall in
the prison-yard a grave had been dug, while at ten paces from it a
dozen rifles were placed upon the ground.  The Commandante with several
of the staff were already present.  Outside the walls a vast concourse
of people had collected, filled with a morbid curiosity to hear the
death-dealing volley, while many were the complaints that the good
citizens of Nalcuanho had to be deprived of a spectacle which they
regarded as a right to be allowed to witness.

Presently a file of soldiers, accompanied by an officer, entered and
were drawn up two paces in the rear of the rifles; a drummer began
beating a loud roll upon his side-drum, and escorted by two gaolers and
accompanied by a priest the condemned man appeared.

He looked wonderfully self-possessed, and unhesitatingly took his place
in front of the wall.  A handkerchief was bound round his eyes, and his
attendants retired to a safe distance.

The officer in command of the soldiers drew his sword, the men stooped,
picked up their rifles and held them at the ready.

A quick word of command, the sword flashed in the air, and like a
single shot the rifles delivered their volley.

Don Robiera remained standing for nearly three seconds, then, falling
forwards, pitched headlong into the trench.

Without a moment's delay the Commandante shook hands with the two
Englishmen, thanked them for their presence at the unavoidable
incident, and escorted them to the gate.

Tresillian was shaking like a leaf.  Holmsby was softly humming a tune,
while his face bore a curious smile.  Dick turned on him almost
savagely.

"You are a callous brute, Rex."

Holmsby stopped and faced his comrade squarely.

"Dick, we can make allowances for you, but when the Commandante takes
me for a greenhorn he's jolly well mistaken."

"What do you mean?"

"Mean--why Don Robiera is no more dead than you and I are.  I used my
eyes.  The rifles did not kick: they were loaded with blank cartridges.
A bullet from a modern rifle would pass clean through a man and knock
chips out of the wall behind him: the plaster was not scratched.  Don
Miguel is right after all.  That fellow Saldanha is up to some nice
little game."




CHAPTER XXVI

A BLOODLESS VICTORY

At exactly eight o'clock Holmsby and his companion were ushered into
the President's presence.  Don Miguel's face wore an anxious look, and
as Holmsby entered he could scarce control his impatience to have the
expected news confirmed.

"We both saw the sentence carried out, señor," began Reginald, and a
gleam of positively diabolical delight swept over O'Rourke's features.
The Calderian President, in spite of his European education, still
retained the fierce characteristics of his fellow-countrymen, and he
listened eagerly to Holmsby's narrative.

"Now, señor," continued Reginald.  "Having described to you how I
carried out your request we will now discuss our plan of campaign.  I
take it that these gentlemen"--bowing towards a group of officials who
stood by the President's couch--"will withdraw, according to custom,
when matters relating to the _Amphibian_ are broached."

The Calderian officials had no option but to retire as decorously as
they could, although they were incensed at the manner in which they
were compelled to give place to two aliens.

Then in a few words Holmsby told Don Miguel what his impressions were
of the mock execution.

"That is what I expected, Mr. Holmsby," exclaimed the President.  "The
Commandante is in league with that arch-rogue Sanchez.  Ere I am fit to
move there will be another revolution."

"Wouldn't it be advisable for you to be taken on board the _Amphibian_
and clear out before the storm breaks?  Revolutionaries have been known
to shoot their late Presidents before now."

"I would willingly, but for one reason," exclaimed Don Miguel.  "As
long as the Talpican army threatens our land frontiers and her fleet
hovers off the capital my duty to what is undoubtedly an ungrateful
country demands that I should see her through her ordeal.  It is
improbable--unless a serious reverse overtakes our arms--that the
conspirators will take definite steps until the war is concluded."

"If I were you, señor, I would let Calderia burn her fingers."

"That I am prepared to do, should occasion arise, Mr. Holmsby; but till
then my work lies in compelling Talpico to cease from her aggressions."

"Then I am at your service.  Everything is prepared, and the wireless
telephone is again in working order.  You can rely upon it that you
will be kept closely in touch with everything that takes place during
the _Amphibian's_ next cruise, and within a week you may be prepared
for glorious news."

"I trust so, Mr. Holmsby," replied the President warmly, as he bade the
two Englishmen adieu.

Directly the _Amphibian_ was clear of the Calderian coast, Holmsby
called the crew aft and explained to them that their President was in
danger of being deposed.  The men who had followed Don Miguel into
exile and had loyally supported him during the construction and
subsequent commission of the _Amphibian_ were highly incensed.  Some of
them proposed that they should return, take Don Miguel on board, and
wreak vengeance upon the Commandante; but when Holmsby explained the
nature of the President's wishes they readily consented to perform
their duty to their country and trust to fate to keep Don Miguel in the
presidential chair.

At midnight the _Amphibian_ was brought head to wind a thousand feet
above the town of San José, and through the intense blackness of the
night two powerful search-lights directed their beams upon the houses,
forts, and harbour.  Instantly all was confusion in the Talpican town.
Fearing an irresistible onslaught from the skies, the inhabitants
poured from their houses and ran for the open country; the troops
manning the batteries cowered in the bomb-proof vaults or joined the
civil population in their flight; while the warships, unable to cross
the bar for want of sufficient tide, were huddled hopelessly together
in so small a space that one of the powerful missiles from the
_Amphibian_ would have put them out of action or at any rate crippled
them so severely that escape would be impossible.

By means of the international code, Holmsby flashed a message to the
Governor of San José, stating in emphatic terms that if a single ship
opened fire or attempted to leave the harbour the _Amphibian_ would at
once commence her work of destruction; but that if no hostile act were
committed by the Talpican forces generous terms would be offered to the
otherwise doomed town.

Promptly the answer was returned that San José was prepared to
surrender unconditionally.  For the rest of the night Holmsby was in
constant telephonic communication with Nalcuanho, and an hour after
daybreak the Calderian terms were presented to the Governor, who had
meanwhile received authority from the President and Government of
Talpico to treat on behalf of that Republic.

Don Miguel's terms were certainly moderate.  They were: the surrender
of one half of the effective ships of the Talpican navy; indemnity of
100,000 dollars for damage done by the Talpican army during the
occupation of Calderian territory, and that a portion of the Talpican
frontier, that formed a wedge into Calderia, was to be ceded to that
Republic, so that the land frontier was clearly defined and strongly
protected by the sierras.

Before nine o'clock Holmsby telephoned that the rough draft of the
terms of peace had been signed, and asked that prize crews should be
sent from Nalcuanho to man the surrendered ships.  The young Englishman
had good cause to feel proud of his achievements.  He had won a
decisive yet bloodless victory, and had secured a balance of power
between the two neighbouring republics that neither would feel bold
enough to disturb.

But although Holmsby patted himself on the back the news of the terms
of peace was received by the populace of Nalcuanho in a manner that
would have unfavourably surprised him.  Once more he had
under-estimated the Calderian temperament.  He had imagined that since
that Republic had been freed from fear of invasion, placed in
possession of the nucleus of a fleet, given a slice of territory and a
large sum as indemnity, national pride would be fully satisfied.  But
an important item in Calderian characteristics had been
overlooked--revenge.  Nothing short of the complete and final
subjection of Talpico would satisfy the people who a few weeks ago
trembled at the thunder of the Talpican guns without their gates.  A
bloodless victory did not appeal to their hot-tempered instincts: they
wanted revenge.

For three days after the signing of the treaty of peace, Holmsby held
frequent converse with President O'Rourke, but on the morning of the
fourth day there was no response to Reginald's call.  Whether the
wireless instruments at Nalcuanho had broken down or the threatened
trouble had fallen upon the ill-starred President, Holmsby knew not.
He could only wait until the prize crews arrived to take possession of
the ceded portion of the Talpican fleet, when he would be at liberty to
take the _Amphibian_ back to Nalcuanho.

At length the expected ships' companies arrived; but since they had
left the capital before telephonic communication was interrupted they
could give no further information, although Holmsby, who now shared the
President's suspicions, detected a distinct aggressive manner in their
replies.

It was like groping in the dark.  Cut off from all communications with
Calderia, Reginald was in utter ignorance of how events were trending.
Nevertheless he waited until the surrendered ships, now displaying the
Calderian colours, had cleared San José Harbour and were well on their
way towards Nalcuanho.

He waited still longer: until the 100,000 dollars indemnity had been
paid in bullion, and with this sum safely stowed on board the airship
he bore away to the capital of Calderia.

It was late in the afternoon ere the _Amphibian_ came in sight of
Nalcuanho.  Both Englishmen were on the promenade-deck, eagerly
scanning the city through their powerful glasses.

There was something strange about the appearance of the place.  The
plaza and the olive-lined boulevard fronting the quay--usually the
favourite places of assembly in the cool of the day of the easy-going
pleasure-loving Calderians--were deserted.  Most of the windows of the
houses were protected by planks, while at the end of each of the broad
streets converging on the quay barricades had been erected and
field-guns mounted behind them.  Soldiers there were in large numbers,
but hardly a civilian was to be seen.

"Something has gone wrong: that's a moral cert," exclaimed Tresillian.

"Undoubtedly," replied Holmsby.  "We must take necessary precautions,"
and raising his voice he called those of the crew who could be spared
from all but the most important duties to muster aft.

In a few words he explained what he thought to be the actual state of
affairs and which subsequently proved to be correct.  The army, at the
instigation of the Commandante, had mutinied, Don Miguel was deposed,
and Don Robiera Sanchez, resurrected with dramatic effect, was
literally thrust into the presidential chair.  Of Don Miguel's fate
there was no inkling, but the crew of the _Amphibian_, vowing vengeance
should a hair of his head be harmed, called upon their English
commander to take the _Amphibian_ right up into the city.

In a few minutes the all-powerful airship, fully cleared for action,
was floating two hundred feet above the government buildings at
Nalcuanho.




CHAPTER XXVII

"I GIVE YOU ONE MINUTE TO DECIDE"

The _Amphibian_ was indeed in a curious position.  On all sides light
guns for discharging either six-pounder shells or rockets were trained
upon her; but two reasons prevented the rebels from proceeding to
extremities: they wished to gain possession of the powerful airship in
an intact condition if possible; they also feared the result of the
terrific explosion of her stores of highly-charged projectiles.  Yet
the situation was desperate.  An excitable gunner might unconsciously
press the trigger of the electric pistol attached to the quick-firer;
an impulsive officer without regard for the consequences, might order
his men to open fire, in spite of the fact that the Calderian ensign
was still displayed from the _Amphibian_.

Realising these possibilities Holmsby resolved to execute a daring
manoeuvre, and skilfully handling the huge airship brought her to earth
in the centre of the quadrangle enclosed by government offices.  Here,
safe from artillery fire, she lay, with barely twenty yards betwixt her
bow and the windows of the Assembly Chamber.  Her for'-ard quick-firer
was trained point blank at that part of the buildings, while the gun's
crew of the aft quick-firer brought the sights of that weapon to bear
upon the offices of the Minister of War.

"Now," exclaimed Holmsby with fierce delight, for his blood was up, "we
can sit tight.  One single act of aggression and we'll blow the
revolutionary headquarters to Hades."

He had not long to wait.  Attended by several of the numerous generals
of the Calderian Army the Commandante entered the quadrangle.

"Welcome to Nalcuanho once more, señor," he began.  "The Republic pays
tribute to your deeds of valour and discretion."

"I am sorry I cannot return the compliment, General," replied Reginald
bluntly.

"My friend, you are over hasty.  Since you take this tone I must call
upon you in the name of the Republic to relinquish your command of the
airship _Amphibian_."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I must take steps to compel you."

Holmsby laughed.  The little Commandante, bristling with fury,
spluttered vain threats against the young Englishman; then he appealed
to the crew of the _Amphibian_ to give up their alien commander,
threatening if they failed to do so, that they would all be taken
prisoners and shot.

The men treated the proposal with contempt, and raised loud shouts of
"Long live President Miguel."

"There is now no President Miguel," announced the Commandante.
"President Robiera is now the head of the Republic.  Surrender your
foreign officers, men, and take the oath of allegiance to the new
President, and you will have no cause to regret your actions."

"Here I stand unarmed: why do not the crew of the _Amphibian_ accept
your conditions?" demanded Holmsby calmly.  "I will tell you.  They
will not be gulled by that rascally son of a peon the Commandante."

Stung by the insult, for General Saldanha prided himself on his direct
descent from a hidalgo of Spain, the Commandante fairly danced with
rage.  Then turning to one of his officers he spoke a few words.  A
bugle blared and instantly three field-pieces were run out into the
quadrangle, unlimbered and trained upon the huge bulk that overshadowed
the greater portion of the confined space; while at every window
commanding the _Amphibian_ soldiers with loaded rifles simultaneously
appeared.

"Have a care, men," shouted the Commandante addressing the crew of the
_Amphibian_.  "Escape is impossible.  Either surrender your officers or
die.  I give you five minutes to decide."

Holmsby calmly took a cigarette from its case, deliberately lit it,
extinguished the match, and flicked the still smouldering fragment of
wood to the ground.

"Five minutes is a long time in an affair of this sort, Commandante,"
he said, raising his voice that all could hear him.  "I, too, have
something to say.  Now listen: I need hardly remind you that stored
within the _Amphibian_ are explosives sufficiently powerful to destroy
the whole of these buildings and shake Nalcuanho to its foundations.
One shot and the trick will be done.  It's a quick death, Commandante,
but the thought of it is terrifying to a coward.  No, don't attempt to
move," for General Saldanha and several of his officers showed
unmistakable signs of executing a strategic movement to the rear.  "You
are fairly cornered, Commandante, five rifles at least are covering
you.  One more step and it will be your last.  Ah!  That's more
reasonable.  Stay where you are, and it rests entirely with you how you
get out of this business.

"Now I will resume my interrupted remarks.  Kindly order those guns to
be limbered up and those soldiers to remove their greasy-looking faces
from the windows.  I know you would not wish for so large an audience
to witness your discomfiture.  Hurry up, please, three minutes out of
the five you graciously offered us are already up."

There was no help for it.  The muzzles of the rifles of the
_Amphibian's_ crew formed a powerful incentive.  The Commandante
falteringly gave the order, the field-pieces and troops seemed to melt
away, and empty windows overlooked the quadrangle.

"Now we have quite a happy family gathering," continued Reginald
cheerfully, while the Calderian crew, their faith in their English
commander rapidly gaining strength, began to see that Holmsby held the
whip hand.  "Before we proceed any further I may as well tell you how
we stand.  No doubt, with your born cupidity, my dear Commandante, you
hoped to reap the profits of my work on Don Miguel's behalf.  You may,
if you behave yourself, get out of this mess unharmed.  You hoped to
derive some benefit from the Talpican indemnity.  You won't: the whole
of the 100,000 dollars is at this very moment on board the _Amphibian_
and will be used solely for the benefit of Don Miguel and the crew who
so loyally stand by him.

"That reminds me.  How is Don Miguel?  I hope for your sake that he has
not had an--shall I call it--an accident?"

"He is no worse, Señor Holmsby," faltered the now frightened
Commandante.

"Very good thing for you he isn't," replied Reginald, stepping towards
a locker and extracting his revolver.  "Now, General, our conversation
is becoming more personal when we discuss the position of a mutual
friend.  If you and two of your fellow rascals will do me the doubtful
honour of coming on board, we will go more into this matter."

The Commandante hesitated.  Even the sight of the menacing rifles would
not tempt him to put his head into the lion's jaws without a guarantee
of safe conduct.

Some of his staff began to edge towards the door through which they had
entered the quadrangle.

"Come back, you!" shouted Holmsby.

Most of the terrified officers stopped, but one, bending as he ran,
darted towards the opening.  Even as he gained the lowermost step
Holmsby raised his revolver and fired.  The fugitive, shot through the
knee, pitched on his face.

"It's no use trying to play the fool," said Reginald sternly.  "Two of
you go and pick that fellow up--two of you, I said, not half a
dozen--that's better.  Now, General, step this way, please."

This time there could be no hesitation.  The Commandante, attended by
two of his gold-laced minions, ascended the rope ladder and gained the
deck of the _Amphibian_.

"To resume our little conversation," continued Holmsby.  "There is no
necessity to be alarmed.  If you get into an awkward predicament it is
your own fault.  Now, tell me, where is Don Miguel?"

"He is a prisoner in his quarters."

"And what did you intend to do with him?" asked Reginald sternly.
"Shoot him?  Come, speak up, and don't hesitate."

"Perhaps," mumbled the Commandante.

"It's a wonder you haven't done so already," rejoined Holmsby.  "But
you see we are here to shake things up a bit.  Now here are pens, ink,
and paper.  Write an order for Don Miguel's release and give orders
that the warrant is carried out."

"Don Robiera Sanchez is now the President: he alone can order Don
Miguel's release," expostulated the Commandante.

"Don Robiera is the puppet and you pull the strings.  I know that
perfectly well.  It's jolly lucky for you that Don Miguel is still
alive.  Do you know what would have happened had it been otherwise?
From a height of six thousand feet the _Amphibian_ would have dropped a
hundred kilos of explosives on the government buildings, and the
Republic of Calderia would have to look both for the fragments of her
former officials and for others to take their places.  But I am
wandering slightly from the point, Commandante.  You gave us five
minutes to decide whether the crew should hand over the _Amphibian_ to
the revolutionaries.  Incidentally I may mention that the five minutes
have now expired and the _Amphibian_ is still in the possession of Don
Miguel's adherents.  I give you one minute to decide: sign the order I
require or I'll dangle you by the neck from underneath the _Amphibian_
and at a sufficient height for every person in Nalcuanho to see.  After
that I'll gain my end by other means."

Without a single word in reply, General Saldanha feverishly gripped a
pen, scribbled a few hasty lines, signed the paper and presented it to
his conqueror.

"Thank you, Commandante; until the order is executed you must be
detained here.  By the bye, a polite note to President Sanchez,
informing him that you are in a slight difficulty and requesting his
presence, would also be in accordance with the present run of things."

"It would be of no use, señor."

"What!  The performer cannot now control his puppet.  Anyway, have a
shot at it."

Thereupon the Commandante wrote as Holmsby had suggested, and the two
letters were handed to the General's staff with instructions to carry
out the orders they contained; while, under guard, the three hostages
were sent for'-ard.

"By Jove, Dick!" exclaimed Reginald, when the two comrades found
themselves alone.  "I never talked so much in all my life.  I think I
must chuck the Service after this--if I am not chucked out--and go in
for public speaking."

"You fairly frightened the old rascal, although I wonder you didn't
mention that you knew all along that he tried to fool you over that
mock execution.  You see my knowledge of Spanish has increased enough
for me to follow much of the conversation."

"I might have done, but I didn't want to rub it in too thick."

"If that's what you call rubbing it in lightly I should like to know
how you let yourself go, Rex," replied Tresillian.  "But the main thing
is that it looks as if we shall rescue Don Miguel.  What's going to
happen next?"

"Wait and see," replied Holmsby oracularly.




CHAPTER XXVIII

DON MIGUEL'S REVENGE

Within a quarter of an hour, one of the revolutionary officers
re-entered the quadrangle.

Halting at the foot of the _Amphibian's_ ladder, he held up a sealed
letter, which was taken from him by one of the crew and handed to
Holmsby.

"Bring the prisoners aft," he ordered, and when the Commandante and his
two companions had taken their places between the double line of the
airship's crew, Holmsby opened the missive.

"I am sorry your authority has so little weight, Commandante," said
Reginald.  "According to this letter President Sanchez has already
deemed it advisable to leave you in the lurch.  The last seen of him
was that he was riding as fast as his horse could carry him in the
direction of Estores.  Presumably he is on his way to Talpico, but I am
afraid that to his surprise his reception will be totally different to
his former one.  I expected it would be so.  However, since I've had
you brought here again, you may as well wait till the second messenger
returns."

But the second messenger did not return.  Having played a somewhat
prominent part in the latest revolution he thought it best to follow
the example of President Sanchez; so having delivered the Commandante's
order he rushed off to the railway station and shook the dust of
Nalcuanho from his feet.

The order had the desired effect, for presently Don Miguel, carried on
a stretcher, was brought into the quadrangle.  The loyal crew of the
_Amphibian_ gave vent to lusty shouts of delight as they hastily
prepared for the return of their idolised master, and assisted by
willing hands the ex-President was hosted on to the deck of his airship.

In a few words, Holmsby informed Don Miguel of what had transpired, and
learnt in return of the events that had taken place subsequent to the
_Amphibian's_ departure for San José.

It was as Holmsby had pictured.  The moment the prize crews had left
Nalcuanho and the revolutionary generals concluded that the indemnity
had been paid, the revolution broke out.  Troops seized the government
buildings and threw up barricades across the principal streets.  The
bulk of the civil population, still favourably inclined towards
President O'Rourke, came into collision with the military but were
dispersed with great loss of life, and in less than an hour from the
first shot the revolution became an accomplished fact.

Taken prisoner Don Miguel was confined in the city gaol.  His brutal
captors made no secret of the intention of the revolutionaries to shoot
him as soon as the _Amphibian_ was made to surrender.  This the
Commandante believed would be a comparatively easy matter, but he had
learnt to his cost that he had a brave and resolute Englishman to deal
with.

"Well, Don Miguel," said Holmsby, when O'Rourke had finished his
narrative, "the matter rests entirely in your hands.  Here is the prime
mover in the revolution."

"I did not think that my confidence in you," said Don Miguel,
addressing the trembling Commandante, "would have been so vilely
abused.  As a traitor and murderer--for at your command hundreds of the
citizens of Nalcuanho have been shot down--you richly deserve to suffer
the same fate as you intended to inflict upon me: there would be no
mock execution, I can assure you.  But although I mean to have my
revenge, I give you your life.  My revenge is this: I am resolved to
leave Calderia for ever.  She can struggle out of the throes of
internal dissensions as best she may.  By freeing her from foreign
aggressors I have done my duty.  Your punishment will be at the hands
of those who will be incensed at your diabolical action in causing the
benefactor of the Republic to abandon a part of his task.  I wish you
joy of it.  Now go, and may I never see your face again."

Absolutely bewildered by this totally unexpected clemency the
Commandante backed from the presence of the man whom he had so
despicably served.  But the crew of the _Amphibian_ were for the first
time out of hand.  Throwing themselves upon the Commandante they tore
the medals and decorations from his breast and trampled them on the
deck; they wrenched the buttons and gold lace from his uniform; they
drew his sword and broke the blade in two.  Not content with this, two
of the men, regardless of the risk they ran, seized the shorn general,
dragged him through the War Office buildings, and presented him at a
window to the dense crowd of curious and excited citizens who thronged
without.

To Saldanha, the martinet, the pompous Commandante, the humiliation was
almost unbearable; but he had tasted only of the first-fruits of Don
Miguel's vengeance.  The rest he had to suffer at the hands of the
people whose confidence he had abused.

"We must do something, señor," said Holmsby, after the excitement
within the quadrangle had subsided, although the tumult of the crowd
without still sounded like the subdued roar of breakers on a rocky
shore.  "We cannot possibly stay here.  What do you propose to do?"

"I have already mentioned that I have done with Calderia," replied Don
Miguel.  "I must find an asylum--a quiet retreat--in another country;
and the one that most appeals to me is Great Britain."

"You are no stranger to it," observed Tresillian.

"No; I presume my title to Sampson's Down still holds good.  I can
there live in retirement and devote my days to my favourite pastime of
scientific research.  Fortunately I am not in want.  On the contrary, I
have taken care to provide against emergencies.  My crew will doubtless
go with me and find a home in Cornwall, but they will not suffer for
their loyalty.  As for the _Amphibian_, I mean to hand her over to the
British Government as a sort of peace-offering, and, Mr. Holmsby, that
act will be performed through your mediation.  The secret of the
preparation of helia will be entrusted into the hands of yourself and
Mr. Tresillian: that alone, which ought to be worth thousands will,
however, scarcely pay the debt of gratitude I owe you both.  At the
first opportunity on our arrival in England I will send for the
necessary documents from my Paris bankers.  Now Mr. Holmsby, I think I
have made myself clear.  If you will kindly muster the crew aft I will
put my proposition before them."

Both Reginald and Dick thanked O'Rourke as well as they could find
words to express their thoughts for his generosity; then Holmsby told
him of the bullion he had on board.

"It affords me much satisfaction that the indemnity has not fallen into
Robiera's hands," remarked Don Miguel.  "Personally the money is of no
particular consequence to me.  If you require any of it, you have but
to ask."

Both Englishmen refused, saying that Don Miguel had already been
over-generous.

"Then I will divide part of it amongst the crew and devote the rest to
charitable purposes," announced O'Rourke.  "Now, Mr. Holmsby, if you
will please do as I request you."

In less than half a minute the crew were formed up on the afterpart of
the promenade-deck, and their master briefly told them of his
intentions, leaving out, for the present, all mention of the proposed
division of the indemnity.  Without exception the men expressed their
utmost willingness to follow the fortunes of their chief, and their
delight was unbounded when Don Miguel completed his address by
announcing that fifty thousand dollars would be divided between them.
Even the noise of the crowd without was hushed into silence as the men
gave three ringing shouts--the nearest approach to a hearty British
cheer that Holmsby had ever heard.

"All clear fore and aft?" asked Holmsby, when the preparations for the
departure were completed.

"All clear, sir," reported the quartermaster.

The engineer deftly inserted the two helia cylinders that alone were
required to give the vessel the necessary buoyancy, and gracefully the
_Amphibian_ rose from the ground, and remained poised in the air at an
altitude of five thousand feet.  Don Miguel was carried to the rail to
take a farewell glimpse of the country he wished to serve so well, then
carefully handled by four of his men was taken below to his cabin.

The huge propeller began to revolve, and the _Amphibian_, rapidly
gathering way, headed in a north-easterly direction.  Upon the crowd of
citizens who lined the quays of Nalcuanho a strange silence descended.
Instinctively they realised that they had lost their former President
for ever.




CHAPTER XXIX

HOLMSBY'S RETURN

Five days later the _Amphibian_ sighted the Lizard.  Off Rame Head she
overtook the British dirigible, _Gadfly_, pounding against a strong
east wind.  It was like a motor-car overtaking a lumbering stage-coach,
and even though the sight of the ensign fluttering from the _Gadfly's_
stern filled Sub-Lieutenant Holmsby with an indescribable yearning, he
could not repress his satisfaction that the _Amphibian_, the vessel
that he was to hand over to the British Navy--was immeasurably superior
to the latest production of gas-inflated dirigibles.

Without attempting to communicate, the _Amphibian_, with the Calderian
ensign still flying, passed the British dirigible and soon left her far
astern.

Off Portland the First Division of the Home Fleet, steaming in double
columns, in line ahead, hove in sight.  Wishing to demonstrate the
manoeuvring power of the _Amphibian_, Holmsby brought the airship to
rest upon the surface of the sea.  Then diving, he steered the craft
underneath the Fleet and ascended two miles in their wake.

In the gathering twilight of a dull November afternoon, Portsmouth had
a momentary view of the _Amphibian_ as she headed towards London.  Then
the gathering darkness hid her from further observation.

"Here we are, Dick," exclaimed Reginald, as the _Amphibian_ descended
into the vast natural hollow of the Devil's Punch Bowl, where she lay
sheltered by the towering masses of Hindhead from the blustering wind.
"I must ask you to stay another night on board, although the temptation
to spend an evening in Town must be very great.  I mean to surprise the
Chief a bit.  You can manage the _Amphibian_ as well as I can, so I
want you to bring her up to-morrow."

"Where to?" asked Dick.

"Let her rest on the Thames opposite the Houses of Parliament.  That's
about the best place I can think of.  Try and get there as near as
possible at eleven o'clock."

"All right, old fellow," replied Tresillian cheerfully.  "But what do
you propose to do?"

"Walk to Haslemere, take train to Town, and advise Admiral Pennington
of the result of my investigations.  I'll tell you all about it later
on."

Accordingly Holmsby, clad in a thick coat in addition to his ordinary
clothing--for he felt the sudden change from the warm air of Calderia
to the raw atmosphere of his native land--descended the rope ladder and
was soon making his way through the thick, rain-sodden gorze.

At Haslemere he had to wait for a train, but in the interval he was
soon deep in the news of the day.  Even during his short absence
everything seemed strange: he had lost the thread of current events.
But there was one paragraph that especially interested him: a report
from Plymouth stating that the _Gadfly_ had been overtaken by a
mysterious airship that answered to the description of the one that
caused such commotion in Cornwall in September last.

It was late in the evening when Holmsby found himself in London.  His
first inclination was to go to his club, but on second thoughts he
decided to make for his "shore quarters" at Dulwich.  But reflecting
that his landlady could not be relied upon to keep the news of his
return he finally decided to call upon a brother-officer,
Sub-Lieutenant Diver of the Hydrographers' Department.

"Good heavens, Holmsby, is it really you?" asked that astonished
officer.

"I don't think it's anyone else, George," replied Reginald.  "Look
here, I know you can keep a secret.  I don't want a word about my being
in Town mentioned until I've seen old Pennington.  How did my Chief
take it?"

"I hardly know, not being in the same branch.  But I heard he was
awfully cut up about your supposed death.  Of course he had a message
purporting to come from you; but not being authenticated he naturally
thought it was a bogus report to throw him off the scent."

For quite two hours Holmsby related his adventures to his
wonder-stricken friend.  Now that the responsibility of the _Amphibian_
was removed from his shoulders, Reginald's almost boyish character was
beginning to reassert itself.

"Can you lend me your full-dress uniform, old fellow?" he asked.  "I
can't get mine as it is at my digs: that is if my people haven't sent
for my things."

"Certainly, but what for?"

"I'm going to have a little game with old Pennington--that's all."

Shortly after nine on the following morning, Holmsby, attired in his
friend's uniform, entered the offices of the Intelligence Department.
Save for the messenger the place was deserted, for it was the practice
of the staff to arrive just before ten.

When the head messenger had recovered from his astonishment, Holmsby
impressed upon him the absolute necessity for strict official reticence
and reserve concerning his presence, as he particularly wished to
announce his return to the Chief in person.

But instead of going to his own room Holmsby went straight to the
Chief's sanctum.  It was a large apartment.  A mahogany table and half
a dozen arm-chairs filled the greater part of it, but immediately
opposite the door was a small library, partitioned off by a heavy
curtain.

Behind this curtain Holmsby took up his position.  Two months
previously he would not have dared to take such liberties with the
much-to-be-feared Chief Director of Naval Intelligence; but emboldened
by the success of his undertaking Reginald had now no fears on the
point.

Precisely at ten the great man entered, but instead of following his
usual custom and devoting half an hour to the daily paper, he rang his
bell and asked for Captain Wapping.

"Ah!  Good-morning, Wapping.  I see that confounded airship has turned
up again."

"Yes, sir, I saw that in last night's paper.  By the description it
seems to be identical with the one that poor young Holmsby lost the
number of his mess over."

"Yes, unfortunately----"

At that moment the First Sea Lord burst into the room.  A visit from
this high and mighty one was most unusual.  Captain Wapping began to
back from the room.  Even Holmsby's courage oozed from his finger-tips
when he recognised the newcomer's bull-voice.

"Good morning, Pennington.  Don't go, Wapping, this might interest
you," exclaimed the First Sea Lord handing an official message to the
Chief Director.  "Read it, Pennington, read it aloud, so that Captain
Wapping can express his opinion on it."

Thus commanded, Rear-Admiral Pennington began to read the dispatch,
while the First Sea Lord, sitting cross-legged in the easiest
arm-chair, drummed his finger-tips on the table in his obvious
excitement.

"From Admiral commanding First Division of Home Fleet, Portland (by
wireless).

"Report on 19th inst., St. Albans Head bearing NNW½W distant 12 miles,
sighted airship flying Calderian colours.  Airship apparently disabled,
fell into sea, and sank.  Detached _Onyx_ to render assistance, but
could find no trace of wreck.  Eleven minutes later airship reappeared,
gained an altitude of two thousand feet, and proceeded East.  Request
strict look out be maintained by detached units, and coastguard
informed accordingly."

"Now what do you make of that?  Where, by the bye is Calderia?" asked
the First Sea Lord, whose geography was limited to the North Atlantic
and Indian Oceans.

"Calderia, sir, is a rotten little Republic in South America.  Always
having revolutions, I'm told."

"I wonder if there's any truth in the newspaper report that the airship
resembled the one that was reported in Cornwall in September?"

"Shouldn't be surprised, sir.  The description also tallies with my
late subordinate's last report--that was just before he met his death."

"Of course, I remember now.  A smart young officer, I believe.  Wasn't
his name Holmsley?"

"Holmsby, sir; a most promising officer.  His last report--I have it
before me--shows wonderful powers of discernment.  I took the greatest
interest in his career----"

"Thank you, sir!" exclaimed Reginald.




CHAPTER XXX

THE _AMPHIBIAN_ HAULS DOWN HER ENSIGN

"Bless my soul, it's Holmsby!" exclaimed the Rear-Admiral, while the
First Sea Lord sat bolt upright in his chair, jammed a monocle to his
eye, and coughed severely, until he realised that it was the
much-lauded sub-lieutenant who stood before him.

"Explain yourself, Mr. Holmsby," began the Chief Director.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I did not expect to find----"

"Never mind about being sorry--that can wait.  Explain how you escaped
from your supposed death."

"It's a long story, sir," replied Holmsby, looking at the clock.  "But
I've completed my investigations."

"Carry on then, and let us hear what you've done."

Thus enjoined Holmsby began, and although his distinguished listeners
followed him with rapt attention, Reginald had the greatest difficulty
to keep his eyes off the clock, as the hands slowly approached the hour
of eleven.  Almost exactly to the minute a messenger knocked at the
door and made the startling announcement that a foreign airship was on
the Thames.

"On the Thames?" demanded the First Sea Lord, absolutely bewildered
with the rapid chain of events.

"I think, sir, I can explain," said Holmsby.

Meanwhile the news had spread like wildfire through the various
Admiralty departments.  In the Accountant-General's branch half a dozen
highly-paid officials were gravely deliberating whether a workman
should receive threepence farthing or three-pence and three-eighths for
working in a hazardous place.  The conference came to an abrupt ending,
and the debaters, clapping on their hats, hurried off to see the
strange sight.  In the Works Department an animated discussion was
going on as to whether a poorly-paid clerk should receive threepence or
fourpence a day increase of pay after four years' service.  Here again
there was a hurried exodus.  It was the same with the other branches,
the chiefs hurried off, and the subordinates followed at a discreet
distance.

The War Office dignitaries, aroused from their slumbers, deserted their
snug offices, and joined the Thames-ward throng, which had already
assumed tremendous proportions.

Westminster and Lambeth bridges were packed, all vehicular traffic
being suspended.  Every vantage-ground on the Surrey side was crowded,
while some of the more daring spectators actually invaded the sacred
precincts of the terrace of the House.  Even the river teemed with
life, bargees reaping a rich harvest from the sightseers who were
fortunate in getting standing-room in the unwieldy lighters.

Making their way across the surging tide of hurrying people the First
Sea Lord, Rear-Admiral Pennington, Captain Wapping and Reginald reached
the Embankment by a circuitous route, and had to walk as far as the
Temple Pier before they could find a River Police launch--the only
craft available.

Pushing its way betwixt the dense pack of small craft that surrounded
the _Amphibian_, the launch ran alongside.  The aircraft was floating
on the swift-flowing tide, moored head and stern abreast of the
Victoria Tower.

Received with naval honours by the Calderian crew, the Admiralty
officials clambered up the rope ladder and gained the deck of the
mysterious craft, and were introduced to the still crippled Don Miguel.

In a few well-chosen words the ex-President expressed his wish that the
_Amphibian_ should be taken over by the British nation, and on behalf
of the State the First Sea Lord accepted the gift.

Thereupon the Calderian National Flag was lowered slowly from the
ensign staff, and Holmsby with his own hands hoisted the White Ensign
in its place.

Only one in a hundred of the spectators fully realised the meaning of
this action; but a wild storm of cheering burst from the assembled
throngs.  The _Amphibian_ had taken her place as the most powerful unit
of the British air fleet.

Taking the discarded ensign over his arm, Holmsby returned to where Don
Miguel was lying and gave it into his hands.  Keenly observant,
Reginald noticed that the eyes of the dapper little man were filled
with tears: the sacrifice he had made was no light one.  He had handed
over the choicest gem of his life to the care of the foreign country
that was to be his by adoption.

      *      *      *      *      *

Don Miguel, or Michael O'Rourke, as he is now called, carried out his
intention and settled down in a modest country-house on Sampson's Down.
There is now no mystery about his presence in the Duchy of Cornwall.
He has earned the esteem of the villagers of Penkerris by his general
demeanour and liberal generosity.  Even Lieutenant Haslar, now in full
receipt of a Greenwich Hospital pension, in addition to his well-earned
Service pension, is on intimate terms with the smartly-dressed little
man who walks with a decided limp--for Lieutenant Haslar has learnt
that his assailants were Michael O'Rourke's foes.  And the Penkerris
fishermen now shoot their nets in Sampson's Cove, for the fish are not
now disturbed by the movements of a mysterious object beneath the
waves.  Penkerris has had a "boom."  Tourists flock to it in order to
gaze with more than discreet curiosity upon the little man who created
the _Amphibian_, the prototype of Britain's omnipotent air fleet--and,
in consequence, Mrs. Pedler has started a select boarding-house.

A few miles from Penkerris are the spacious works of the Helia Company.
Dick Tresillian had his wish, and promptly "chucked" the department for
work of a more congenial nature.  He is now managing-director of the
Helia Company, and is reported to be rolling in money.  He is a
frequent and regular visitor to Sampson's Down.

As for Reginald Holmsby, he is making rapid progress in the air fleet.
Already his name is high on the list for Flag rank.  He, too, whenever
his arduous duties permit, makes frequent visits to Sampson's Down,
where, in the company of Michael O'Rourke and Dick Tresillian, he
delights in recalling their adventures in the _Amphibian_.




[End of The Flying Submarine, by Percy F. Westerman]