Chapter XXX: The Fall of Naocuanha

"HEAVY firing, sir," remarked Commander Bourne to his superior officer.

"You're right," assented Captain and Acting Commodore Staggers. "It's about time we had a wireless report."

"Nothing has come through yet, sir," said Bourne.

Surrounded by a group of officers Captain Staggers stood upon the battlements of Fort Belgrano, on the landward side of the town of Zandovar. Away to the eastward, and only just discernible in the heated atmosphere, was the city of Naocuanha. Beyond the capital there was nothing to be seen, save at sunset when the peaks of the far-distant Sierras showed rosy-pink against the gloom of approaching night.

"The seaplanes ought to be returning," remarked Captain Staggers for the sixth time in half an hour. He was unable to conceal an anxiety for the naval aircraft that, two hours previously, had proceeded to the assistance of the handicapped "Meteor."

Drawn up just outside the fort was every available man who could be landed from the fleet: one thousand seamen and five hundred Marines, with the usual quota of light quick-firers and maxims. Why the men were there under arms none of them knew; they could only conjecture. Once again there was work to be done and they meant to do it right well, to wipe off the slur upon British prestige caused by the capture of Admiral Maynebrace and his staff.

"Speak to the 'Royal Oak,' Mr. Eccles, and ask if there's any news," continued the Captain.

Away doubled the lieutenant to the signalling station, only to return within five minutes with the disconcerting report that the battleship had not been able to "pick up" the "Meteor" by wireless.

"Seaplanes returning, sir!" announced the Commander, whose attention had been drawn to the fact by a petty officer.

"How many?" demanded the Captain abruptly, his anxiety causing him to drop his customary courtesy.

"Only three, sir."

"Only three? Good heavens! Only three."

Captain Staggers set his jaw firmly. Was he to hear of another reverse? Where was the "Meteor"--the Dreadnought of the Air? Had she fallen a victim to the fire of the batteries of Naocuanha?

Flying with mathematical precision the three seaplanes alighted practically simultaneously upon a level expanse of ground on the landward side of Fort Belgrano. Under ordinary circumstances etiquette would demand that the subordinate should approach the senior officer, but casting observances to the winds Captain Staggers, holding his scabbard to prevent his sword from impeding his progress, ran towards the returned airmen.

"Five of the Valderian biplanes destroyed, sir." reported the senior lieutenant of the air squadron. "All that opposed us. G1 and G3 of ours are done for. G4 is badly damaged, but her crew are safe."

"And the 'Meteor'?" asked the Captain anxiously.

"Is standing by to the east of Naocuanha, sir. I understand that there are some British subjects, assisted by a part of the airship's crew and some of the late President's adherents, holding the Cavarale. Captain Whittinghame suggests that if an attack be made as soon as possible, while the Valderian troops are still demoralized by the destruction of their aircraft, we may be able to capture the capital without great loss."

"And where is Admiral Maynebrace?"

"I do not know, sir. Captain Whittinghame gave me no information on that point, so I concluded that he is with the party holding the Cavarale."

"Gentlemen," said Captain Staggers, turning to his officers who accompanied him, "I propose to make a reconnaissance in force immediately, and, if practicable, to deliver an assault upon Fort San Josef. If our efforts in that direction are successful, we shall hold the key of the position."

In spite of their protests the officers and crews of the seaplanes were ordered to stand by. Their places were taken by others who were fresh to undergo the trying ordeal, and the hard-worked aircraft having been given a rapid overhaul, they set off on their task of searching the intervening country in case the Valderians should offer resistance to the advance of the Naval brigade.

In sections of fours the British force set out on its seven mile march to Naocuanha, the advance covered by the seaplanes and well flanked by strong parties of Marines. The railroad had been torn up, and the rolling-stock destroyed before the evacuation of Zandovar by the Valderians, but the wide and fairly well-kept road rendered the advance practicable and speedy.

"'Meteor' heading due north, sir," exclaimed Commander Bourne, as the huge bulk of the airship, looking little larger than a needle, was observed to be making off at full speed in the direction the Commander had stated.

"What's the matter with her, I wonder?" asked Captain Staggers. "I thought she was to operate on the east side of Naocuanha? By sheering off she leaves the Valderian troops free to devote the whole of their attention to us."

"I don't know, sir," replied Bourne, "Perhaps----"

His surmise was never expressed in words, for even as he spoke, the "Meteor," having put a safe distance between her and the batteries of the capital, swung round and made for the town of Zandovar.

"Pass the word for the men to halt," ordered the captain, who was regarding the approaching mammoth with ill-disguised wonderment and admiration, for in spite of the fact that two hundred odd feet had been taken from her original length, she still appeared the embodiment of size, power and speed.

The seamen and Marines grounded arms and watched the Dreadnought of the Air with the deepest interest. She had spotted the advancing force, and starboarding her helm was making in the direction of the column.

Her propellers stopped; she lost way, then, slowly sinking, alighted on level ground at less than a hundred and fifty yards from the place where Captain Staggers and his staff were standing.

There was no wind, consequently there was no need to anchor. The "Meteor," now possessing a dead weight of ten or twelve tons, sat firmly upon Valderian soil.

"Captain Whittinghame, I presume?" asked the Commodore as he approached within convenient talking distance of the airship.

"The same," answered Vaughan. "I am in a hurry, sir; I have left several of my men in an exposed position at the Cavarale, so I must quickly return. The city of Naocuanha ought to be taken with but little trouble. Meanwhile, sir, I shall be glad if you will receive some of my passengers--Rear-Admiral Maynebrace, his staff and others."

Captain Staggers literally gasped. The fact that his superior had been rescued by the "Meteor" was quite unexpected news, for he had misinterpreted Whittinghame's appeal for the seaplanes to be sent to the airship's aid. Before he could recover from his astonishment the rope ladder was dropped from the entry-port and the Admiral's burly form was seen to be slowly descending the swaying means of communication with terra-firma.

A spontaneous cheer burst from the throats of the men as they saw their Admiral returned to them. In spite of the slight disappointment that they were not able to wipe off the slur and retrieve their commanding officer, the seamen and marines were more than willing to recognize the excellent work accomplished by the Dreadnought of the Air.

"Will you continue the advance, sir?" asked Captain Staggers, after the Admiral and his staff, the two Frenchmen, and the two men of the trader had descended.

"Certainly," replied Admiral Maynebrace. "There's nothing like striking while the iron's hot. That airship wiped out Fort Volador by a single charge of explosive. And there's news, Staggers, but I'll tell you later. Look, the 'Meteor' is ascending."

With the least possible delay the airship returned to continue her self-imposed task of threatening the city on the eastern side; while the naval brigade resumed its march.

Having received from Captain Staggers the plan of operations and duly approved his subordinate's dispositions for the attack, Rear-Admiral Maynebrace started a breezy narrative of his captivity in the Cavarale.

"And one day I was surprised to see an Englishman enter my cell. That man was Dacres."

"Dacres?" echoed Captain Staggers, completely taken aback. "Dacres in the Valderian service?" For, although the name of Captain Vaughan Whittinghame had been communicated to the officers of the squadron operating off the Valderian coast, the Admiralty had given no information to the effect that ex-Sub-lieutenant Dacres formed one of the "Meteor's" complement.

"Yes, Dacres," declared Admiral Maynebrace. But not in the Valderian service--far from it. The youngster managed to get hold of an appointment under Captain Whittinghame. At considerable risk he managed to communicate with me. Later on the airship landed a handful of her crew under Dacres' command in the Cavarale in the dead of night. They overpowered the garrison, rescued the British officers and sent them off in the 'Meteor'."

"Capital!" ejaculated the Captain.

"More than that--it shows Dacres' devotion--the 'Meteor' being unable to take us all, he volunteered to remain in the captured prison with his men, and by a cool piece of work he made a prisoner of----"

"The commandante of the Cavarale?" hazarded Captain Staggers.

"Yes, and President Zaypuru as well," added Admiral Maynebrace enthusiastically. "Staggers, I made a great mistake when I told young Dacres to send in his papers. We must have him back."

"We must, sir," said the Captain of the "Royal Oak" wholeheartedly. "That is, if he's agreeable. Dacres always appeared to me to be rather independent."

"Wish to goodness he hadn't played that practical joke on my midshipmen," growled Admiral Maynebrace.

Further conversation was for the time being out of the question, for the brigade was now almost within range of the batteries of Naocuanha.

A strange silence seemed to hang over the capital. There were no signs of movement. Through the field-glasses of the British officers Naocuanha appeared to be a city of the dead. There was not the slightest indication of an attempt about to be made by the superiorly numerical Valderian troops to dispute the advance.

"Wish those beggars would start firing," muttered the Admiral. "A silence like that seems suggestive of an ambuscade. Any report from the seaplanes?"

"G2 and G6 both report no signs of the batteries being manned, sir," announced Lieutenant Eccles.

"Then continue the advance in open order. Maxims in the centre, and quick-firers to cover the advance on either flank. What a rotten country, Staggers! Not a particle of cover."

Silently the attackers extended, then with six feet separating one man from another, the bluejackets and marines approached the frowning walls of Fort San Josef.

Suddenly a succession of short reports burst from seaplane G5. She had opened fire upon some object, still invisible to the attackers on the remote side of the fort.

For quite half a minute there was no reply from the Valderian position; then right and left came the sharp crackle of musketry punctuated by the bark of quick-firers.

Taking a prone position on the grass the British seamen and marines opened a steady fire upon their unseen foes, while the covering guns sent shell after shell into Fort San Josef, over which floated the flag of the republic.

"What's that?" asked Admiral Maynebrace as a report received from G6 was handed to him. "Fort San Josef evacuated? Tell the quick-firers to search the ground to the right and left and not waste time and ammunition on an empty building. By Jove! what's the matter with G5?"

He might well ask that question, for the seaplane was descending with alarming rapidity and apparently right upon the Valderian position. The attackers, seeing her glide earthwards, promptly directed their fire elsewhere, but the devoted G5 was plunging through the zone of fire of the enemy.

"She's disabled, sir," exclaimed Captain Staggers. "Look, there she goes."

The seaplane disappeared behind Fort San Josef. Her two consorts, disdainful of the fate which had overtaken her, still flew serenely over the Valderian lines, occasionally dropping bombs, but more frequently reporting the effect of the fire of the British field-guns.

"What's that?" demanded Captain Staggers, grasping his superior officer's arm in his eagerness. "Look, sir, at the fort."

Standing upon the ramparts and showing clearly against the skyline was a man in naval uniform. Rapidly he uncleated the halliards of the flagstaff and hauled down the Valderian flag. Then, even as he waved his white-covered cap in triumph, he suddenly pitched forward on his face and rolled inertly down the steep face of the earthworks.

"It's Vine, the pilot of G5, sir," said Bourne.

Enraged by the lieutenant's fall the attackers implored the officers to be allowed to storm the position. The men were like hounds in leash, eager to vent their fury upon their foes.

But Admiral Maynebrace hesitated. The significance of Fort San Josef offering no active resistance was ominous.

Up dashed a sub-lieutenant.

"G2 reports safe to advance, sir," he said.

"Fort San Josef is mined, but G5 destroyed the firing station and has cut the wires."

The Admiral hesitated no longer. Along the line the officers' whistles sounded the advance. Up from the cover afforded by the grass sprang hundreds of figures in khaki and blue. A regular clatter followed the order to fix bayonets, and at the double the gallant men raced towards their goal.

In spite of the covering fire from the British guns the Valderian troops to the right and left of the deserted fort maintained a hot fusillade. Enfiladed by the converging volleys the British suffered severely, the ground being dotted with dead and dying. Yet, undaunted, the stormers passed on, threw themselves into the dry ditch, and clambered up the steep ramp beyond. The more active of the attackers assisted those who experienced difficulty in negotiating the slippery slope. Marines and bluejackets, without any apparent semblance of order, vied with each other in the race to gain possession of the coveted position, till a ringing British cheer announced to the Admiral and his staff that Fort San Josef was in the occupation of his gallant men.

While the Union Jack was hoisted over the captured position, the bluejackets rushed to the guns to turn them upon the Valderian troops who had so severely galled the advance; but to their disappointment and rage they discovered that the breech-blocks had previously been removed.

In spite of the danger from the hostile bullets that were singing over the earthworks a signalman stood erect and semaphored for the guns to be brought up.

Two brawny bluejackets, each staggering under the weight of a Maxim, successfully crossed the danger-zone, while four man-hauled quick-firers were ordered to the fort.

At the double the guns were dragged across the open plain. Several of the men at the drag-ropes fell, but, undaunted, their comrades maintained the hot pace. The dry-ditch they made light of. In twenty seconds each gun was unlimbered and dismantled. The lighter parts, passed from hand to hand, were taken up the ramp; the heavier gear, hauled by willing hands, quickly followed.

To the tap, tap, tap of the Maxims was added the sharp bark of the quick-firers, and, swept by the hail of projectiles, the Valderian troops bolted precipitately. Outside the city they could not go, for hovering overhead was the "Meteor," and the fate of Fort Volador was still fresh in the minds of the beaten side.

At exactly three o'clock--one hour and twenty minutes from the opening of the assault--the city of Naocuanha surrendered at discretion.