Chapter XXV: The Capture of the Cavarale

HALF an hour later Henri opened his eyes. He looked about him for nearly a minute, then bravely attempted to rise.

Dacres heard him muttering in French but could not distinguish the words.

"The horse," he murmured, pointing with his uninjured hand to the animal that was still standing quietly browsing by its dead master.

"All right," said Dacres soothingly. "I'll see about that later on. Drink some of this water."

The young Frenchman gratefully accepted the proffered bottle, but steadfastly refused to drink more than a very small quantity.

"I feel much better now," he said. "Am I hurt very much? The rogue was too quick for me."

"It's not dangerous," answered Dacres. Neither was it. Nevertheless, should complications ensue owing to the lack of proper medical attention the result might easily prove to be fatal but for the present all that could be done was to cheer his wounded comrade and persuade him to attempt to continue his toilsome journey.

"How goes it?" asked Dacres, having assisted Henri to his feet.

"I feel so: my head goes round and round, but I shall be all right soon. Try to catch the horse," he persisted.

"Suppose I must tackle the brute, if it's only to humour Henri," thought Dacres, then, with considerable misgiving, he approached the animal.

Greatly to his agreeable surprise he found that the horse allowed itself to be quietly led away from its former master. The change of ownership did not seem to matter so long as the animal had a human being to assert his authority.

The knowledge that the food supply was running short, prompted Dacres to examine the bodies of the slain Indians in the hope of finding something in their possession that would sustain him and his companion; but he was disappointed.

"Are you fit to make a start?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Henri.

"Then I'll lift you on to the horse's back."

"But you?" objected de la Fosse. "We can both ride."

"Thanks, I won't risk it," said Dacres emphatically. "If I fell off I might drag you with me. I'm game for another forty miles, I think; so let me give you a heave up."

Walking by the animal's side the Englishman set a steady pace, his face still towards the seemingly elusive Sierras. The heat was now terrific, and although Henri bore himself bravely, he suffered agonies.

Shortly after noon the travellers came across a small stream. This was indeed good fortune. The water-bottle was refilled, the horse watered, and additional wet bandages placed over Henri's wounds; while Dacres stripped and revelled in the comparatively cool stream.

"I think I know where we are," said de la Fosse. "This river flows through San Carlos and La Paz. We ought to be within ten kilometres of the road my father and I were following when we saw the two airships."

"In that case we ought to reach the 'Meteor' before to-night," said Dacres reassuringly, but in his mind he had grave doubts. The terrors of the mountain pass loomed largely in his imagination. Burdened by a wounded comrade the passage would be hazardous in the extreme.

Buoyed up with hope Henri was impatient to resume the journey, and Dacres, willing to humour him, complied. But the young Frenchman's physical strength was not equal to his mental powers, for within an hour of leaving the river he suddenly fell forward in a dead faint.

Dacres caught him before he fell to the ground, then, lowering him gently, he rested his comrade's head on a mound, at the same time sheltering the luckless man from the fierce rays of the sun.

To the Englishman's dismay the horse, hitherto quiet, reared, then galloped off at full speed. The reason for the stampede was not difficult to see; at less than a mile off were the Indians, reinforced till they numbered thrice the original band.

Dacres was one of those men who see and enlarge upon perils a long way ahead. Perhaps it was natural caution. But the sudden appearance of the swarm of natives simply roused the British bull-dog spirit within him. He was metaphorically about to fight with his back against the wall, although actually there was nothing to protect him from a rear attack.

Carefully he drew Henri's revolver from his holster, opened the breech and assured himself that the six chambers were loaded. Then, placing the remainder of the cartridges on the ground within easy reach, he knelt with a revolver in each hand, ready to open fire.

Again the attackers prepared to execute their enveloping tactics. They were now within two hundred yards.

"Come on, you brutes!" shouted Dacres furiously. "Come on, and have a jolly good thrashing."

The possibility of being wiped out never entered his mind. He was now a fighter who "saw red."

A yell burst from the horsemen; then, simultaneously, the whole crowd broke into a gallop, the hoofs of the horses making a terrific din upon the hard ground.

Suddenly, just as the attack was about to split into two sections, one of the men reined in his horse, almost pulling it on its haunches. He pointed towards the sky, with fear and astonishment written plainly on his dark brown features.

The next moment the Indians had turned tail and were riding for dear life.

Dacres looked over his shoulder, half expecting to have fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire, and that the cause of the panic was the approach of a body of Valderian roughriders.

But to his astonishment and delight he beheld the "Meteor" flying at full speed and momentarily looming up larger and larger.

Dacres sprang to his feet and emptied both revolvers at his retreating foes. They were already out of range, but the shots served to attract the attention of the airship in case Whittinghame had not yet sighted his absent comrade.

Five minutes later the "Meteor"--still gigantic in spite of the fact that she had been shortened by two hundred feet--alighted upon the grassy plain The instant the rope-ladder was dropped men hastened to the assistance of Dacres and his stricken friend, foremost amongst them being Whittinghame and Antoine de la Fosse.

"My son--is he dead?" asked the elder Frenchman, who was almost beside himself with anxiety.

"No; he's fainted," replied Dacres. "He'll be all right directly Hambrough takes him in hand."

Quickly the crew of the "Meteor" rigged up a rigid stretcher, and upon this, lashed on to prevent him from slipping, Henri de la Fosse was taken on board the airship. As soon as the rest of the officers and men were embarked the Dreadnought of the Air rose to a height of ten thousand feet.

"Well?" asked Whittinghame with his characteristic brevity when asking a question.

"It's all right up to the present, sir," said Dacres. "Your brother is safe and so is Admiral Maynebrace. I've seen them both. It is essential that we should attempt their rescue at three o'clock Friday morning."

In spite of his efforts to suppress it, Dacres gave a prodigious yawn.

"Excuse me," he continued, "but I've had no sleep for nearly forty hours and precious little food."

"Then, make a good meal," said Whittinghame, "and have a sound sleep. There's plenty of time before the day and hour you mention. When you've told your story we'll lay our plans--no, not now. I refuse to hear another word till you have eaten and slept."

The appearance of the "Meteor" in the very nick of time was not a coincidence. As soon as Antoine de la Fosse had set the wireless apparatus in order a message came through from Whittinghame's secret agent at Naocuanha to the effect that two Europeans, posing as electrical engineers, had escaped from the city by taking forcible possession of a locomotive. Directly Whittinghame heard this he ordered the final work of assembling the four remaining sections of the "Meteor" to be carried out with the utmost celerity; but before the ballonettes could be recharged, another "wireless" was received announcing that the locomotive had been derailed after having been the means of destroying two of the Valderian air-fleet. It was supposed that the fugitives had escaped since there were no traces of their bodies under the wreckage.

"They've outwitted the rascals, de la Fosse," exclaimed the Captain when he received the news. "Trust Dacres to wriggle out of a tight corner. He'll see that your son comes through this business, too. Now, where do you think they'll make for?"

"Not to the south side of the line, monsieur le capitaine; Henrie has too much sense to go to our home. He will doubtless lead Monsieur Dacres across the plain to the south."

"Very well; we'll make a search," decided Whittinghame.

Thus the "Meteor," the damage having been made good as far as possible, set out on her voyage of investigation. Keeping at a great altitude she passed within ten miles of La Paz and shaped a course parallel to the railway till almost abreast of the place where the engine was derailed. Then, by a pure chance, the crew "spotted" the bodies of the Indians and their horses who had fallen in the first encounter.

Descending they made a careful search, and Dacres' trail as he led the captured horse was picked up across an expanse of bare ground. The general direction was followed by the "Meteor" till the alert look-out saw the Indians about to charge down upon the Englishman and his unconscious comrade.

For the next twenty-four hours the "Meteor" remained at a height of ten thousand feet, drifting with the light air current towards the Sierras. Whittinghame did not mean to anticipate the time arranged by his brother for the arrival of the airship at the Cavarale. For one thing he wished Dacres to be as fit as possible after his arduous experiences. He also was influenced by the fact that quietude was essential to Henri de la Fosse, if he were to be saved from an attack of fever following his wounds.

Whittinghame would have landed the patient and his father but for the fact that, in consequence of the affair at the Cavarale it would not be safe for the Frenchman to risk a meeting with any of the Valderian troops. As for Gaston he was miles away from the seat of war, and would not be in any danger, at least, for some considerable time. Ere that Whittinghame proposed to embark him and take the reunited family on board the "Meteor" when she started on her homeward voyage.

As soon as the sun set the "Meteor," still keeping at a great height, started on her run to the outskirts of Naocuanha. There was plenty of time, since the actual attempt to rescue the prisoners was not to commence till one in the morning.

Fortunately the night was dark. The stars were obscured; the searchlights of the capital were directed solely towards the seaport of Zandovar, for the garrison was in hourly dread of a surprise attack on the part of the British seamen and marines.

Shortly after midnight the "Meteor" arrived above the city of Naocuanha--unseen and unsuspected. The capital was at her mercy. Had Whittinghame wished he could have dropped powerful charges of explosives upon the buildings, but the idea of taking a mean advantage did not commend itself to his chivalrous instincts.

At 12.30 Dacres with Callaghan and ten of the crew entered No. 5 compartment. They were fully armed, while in addition a supply of short cords and two sponges saturated with chloroform were provided.

"All ready?" asked Whittinghame.

"Ay, ay, sir."

A metallic clang echoed through the after-section. The bolt action had been unlocked and No. 5 compartment was no longer joined to the remaining three divisions.

Slowly the ultra-hydrogen was pumped out of several of the ballonettes, and gently the independent division sank towards the earth.

Stationed at an open flap in the floor, Dacres "conned" the descending part of the airship under his command. Once or twice it was necessary to start the motors to bring the two hundred odd feet of gas-bag immediately over the rectangular courtyard of the Cavarale.

By the aid of his night-glasses Dacres could distinguish the outlines of the prison with tolerable ease. Nevertheless, every moment of the descent was one of suspense.

At any instant the huge overhead bulk might be seen by an alert sentry. In that case a bomb was to be thrown into the soldiers' quarters, and profiting by the confusion the airship was to descend as fast as possible and let loose her armed crew upon the terrified garrison; but only in case of extreme necessity were explosives to be used.

Only five hundred feet more. Perfect silence reigned below, while the only sound that came from No. 5 section was the laboured breathing of the twelve men as they strove with their pent-up feelings.

"Sentry!" whispered Callaghan pointing to a motionless figure on the wall nearest to the city.

Dacres nodded. He would not trust himself to speak.

Four hundred feet.

Suddenly a light flashed from one of the towers, and a number of men, one of them carrying a lantern, emerged and marched along the broad flat roof. "Rounds, by Jove!" gasped Dacres, then springing to the emergency switch controlling the supply of ultra-hydrogen and the ballonettes, he thrust it down.

The hiss of compressed air that followed seemed to the crew loud enough to arouse the whole garrison. Simultaneously the downward movement was checked and the section leapt quickly to a height of a thousand feet.

"Keep her there," ordered Dacres, then, glass in hand, he returned to his post of observation. Thank heavens the visiting rounds had neither heard nor seen the danger that threatened them. The crew could catch the sibilant challenge of the sentry as the soldiers approached his post. Having satisfied themselves that all was well, the rounds passed on to the next sentry, and so on till they had completed a tour of the walls. Then, descending to the courtyard by a flight of steps, the party crossed the _patio_ and disappeared within the guard-room.

"We'll wait another half-hour," said Dacres. "Perhaps by that time the sentries will not be on the alert."

"Very good, sir," replied Callaghan. "I've tumbled across South American soldiers before now, and, between you and me, sir, they ain't up to much."

"Cap'n coming alongside, sir," reported one of the crew as coolly as if announcing the approach of the captain's gig towards a man-of-war.

Silently the major part of the "Meteor" glided within fifty feet of No. 5 section.

"What are you waiting for?" demanded Whittinghame.

"We saw the rounds were out, sir," replied Dacres.

"Oh, all right. I thought perhaps that something had gone wrong with the exhaust pumps."

"Oh, no; they are working most splendidly," announced Dacres. "We've decided to wait till the sentries quiet down after being visited by the rounds."

"Do you think you could do better by descending about a mile from the prison and scaling the walls?" asked the Captain.

"The difficulty would be to get the rescued prisoners to the airship, sir; I think we had better stick to our original plans."

"Very good," was Whittinghame's only comment.

Slowly the minutes sped, till Dacres, shutting the case of his watch with an emphatic snap, gave the order to descend.

Far below the glimmer of a match told its own tale. One of the sentries was lighting a cigarette.

"Look out," whispered Callaghan. "Blest if the four of 'em aren't altogether. That's a bit of all right."

The quarter-master spoke truly. Three of the Valderian soldiers had deserted their posts and had joined the one stationed on the west wall--that nearest to the city.

"Silly asses!" ejaculated Dacres "they are playing into our hands."

The four men were apparently having a friendly argument. More cigarettes were produced and lighted. Then after a short interval the sentries entered one of the towers and shut the door leading on to the roof. A gleam on the stonework told the aerial watchers that the unsuspecting soldiers had lit a lantern.

Two hundred--one hundred and fifty feet.

No. 5 section was now barely twenty feet above the walls and immediately over the courtyard. Her fabric, dimly illuminated by the distant searchlights, could not have escaped the notice of the sentries had they been at their posts.

Dacres now felt tolerably certain of success. Even had the sentries emerged from their unauthorized place of shelter the sudden transition from artificial light to the darkness of the night would have prevented them from seeing anything for at least half a minute.

With a slight tremor the detached portion of the "Meteor" alighted fairly equidistant from the encircling wall. Quickly Dacres and eight men descended and anchored the craft by means of ropes secured to the railings surrounding the _patio_.

Silently the adventurers followed their leader up the outside flight of stone steps on to the roof. Twenty yards farther on was the tower in which the faithless sentries were skulking.

Dacres looked through the narrow space formed by the door being ajar. The four Valderians were standing around an upturned barrel on which stood a candle. The men were deep in a game of faro, peering through the smoky atmosphere with eyes intent only upon the cards which were being thrown upon the impromptu table.

Signing to his men to approach, Dacres held up his revolver.

"Now," he exclaimed.

Pushing open the door he entered, following by his men.

For a moment the Valderians could not credit their senses. They stared stupidly down the muzzles of half a dozen revolvers. The cards dropped from their nerveless fingers, their winnings clattered on the floor. At the same time the candle toppled over and went out, leaving the room illuminated only by a lantern set in one corner.

Then one of the soldiers raised both hands above his head. His companions followed his example with surprising celerity. Without uttering a sound they tamely surrendered.

"Secure them," ordered Dacres.

In a trice the four trustworthy sentries were gagged and bound hand and foot. The knots were tied as only seamen know how: there was little fear of the prisoners being able to slip their bonds; while to prevent them from moving to each other's assistance each Valderian's rifle was lashed to his legs by cords above the knees and round the ankles. The captives were as helpless as logs of wood, and incapable of uttering a sound.

"Now for the guard-room," whispered Dacres.

This building, situated in one corner of the courtyard, could be gained either by descending the steps leading to the roof of the buildings abutting on the outer wall, or else by a covered way communicating with the quarters occupied by the rest of the troops.

The first was the only practicable way for the British airship's men to tackle the guard; but the great danger now was that should any of the soldiers on duty escape into the living-rooms by means of the covered gallery all chances of a complete surprise would be lost.

The guard-room was roughly furnished. There was a long table on which stood several empty wine glasses. Round the walls were wooden forms on which two men were sitting. Half a dozen more, including the serjeant, were lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets. In a rack close to the door were the rifles of the soldiers on duty.

Without hesitation Dacres and his men rushed as quietly as they could into the guard-room and planted themselves between the arms-rack and the surprised Valderians.

One of the latter, more daring than his comrades, made a dash for the farther door communicating with the men's quarters. Before he could open it Callaghan struck him on the temple with his clenched fist. The fellow dropped like a felled ox, the Irishman catching him ere his body flopped noisily upon the floor.

This slight commotion was sufficient to arouse the sleeping soldiers.

"Surrender or we shoot!" ordered Callaghan in the execrable Spanish he had picked up during a three years' commission in Gibraltar dockyard.

Without hesitation the men threw up their arms.

"Now what's to be done with this lot, sir?" asked the Irishman. "We can't waste time lashing 'em up."

Dacres saw that the windows were small and heavily barred, and that the locks on the door were strong.

"Remove the bolts of those rifles," he ordered. "Now, Callaghan, tell these men that if they attempt to escape or utter a sound we'll make it hot for them."

This the Irishman did, uttering threats that he had learned from the Scorps of the Rock which, judging by the speaker's ferocious gestures, struck terror into the hearts of the cowardly Valderians. They vowed compliance with such vehemence that they had to be told to keep silence lest the noise should alarm the rest of the garrison of the prison. Locking both doors and taking possession of the keys, Dacres led his men towards the barrack-quarters where the remainder of the rank and file--thirty all told--were asleep.

Now it was that Dacres' knowledge of the plan of the buildings was put to good account. He knew that underneath was a large storeroom, to which the only means of access was by a trap-door in the corridor outside the barrack-room. Once the soldiers could be forced into this semi-dungeon they would be incapable of doing any mischief.

The room was in darkness. A delay ensued till one of the "Meteor's" men took down a lantern that was hanging in the covered way.

"Two at a time," whispered Dacres, pointing to the triple line of sleeping men who were stretched in various attitudes on straw palliasses on the floor.

The first two sleepers were rudely awakened to find their arms and legs pinioned and a horny hand over their mouths. Incapable of resistance they were carried to the top of the ladder leading to the cellar, then fiercely threatened by the huge Irishman they were compelled to descend into utter darkness.

Twenty Valderians were served this way, when one fellow managed to give vent to a terrific yell, at the same time gripping with his powerful teeth the hand that strove to stifle his cry of alarm.

Instantly the remaining soldiers were awake, but being unarmed, they saw the uselessness of resistance. Without further trouble they were made to join their comrades in the underground cellar.

Without loss of life on either side, the Cavarale was in possession of the crew of the "Meteor."