CHAPTER IV—A PRISONER IN ZEMMUR

“That’s what has happened to a servant of the British Crown under Langside’s administration;” said Mr. Greatorex hotly. “Strong pressure, indeed! It wants a fleet, an expedition, a few quick-firers and Long Toms.”

“But wouldn’t that make a blaze?” said Tom quietly. “In the present state of affairs it might give rise to no end of complications in Europe, too.”

“Don’t tell me!” cried Mr. Greatorex, banging his fist on the paper. “We’re sinking into a state of jelly-fish; any one can poke us and smack us and we simply go in. This’ll smash the Government: that’s one good thing; and we’ll see what John Brooks can do when he’s at the helm.”

Later in the day Raymond Oliphant, who was now a privileged visitor to the shed, adverted to the subject.

“Thank your stars you are not Prime Minister, Dorrell,” he said. “The pater came down for the week-end, and he’s nearly off his chump, poor old chap! He knew about this kidnapping three days ago, before it got into the papers, and he went back to town this morning prepared for squalls in the House.”

“Can’t he do anything?”

“He says not. One of the Opposition rags was screaming about an expedition on Saturday, but of course that can’t be risked. And it might fail after all—just as the Gordon expedition did. That Moorish brigand might kill Ingleton if hard pressed.”

“But what would he gain by that? He’s playing for a ransom, I suppose.”

“No, there’s more in it than that. We’ve already offered an enormous ransom through the Sultan; but the rebel wants to get certain concessions out of the Sultan, and thinks he’ll manage it by getting the Sultan into hot water with us. I say, what a pity your aeroplane isn’t fit for the job. What a grand idea it would be to snap up the prisoner under the very noses of his captors! I suppose it isn’t up to it, eh?”

Tom shook his head.

“I couldn’t trust it to go so far. You see, here the workshop is at hand, and if anything goes wrong it can be easily repaired. It would be rather a poor lookout if the thing came to grief in the Bay of Biscay, say, and I came souse into the sea.”

“It would be rather rotten. Well, let’s have a spin now.”

The two mounted the car, and spent an hour in wheeling about the enclosure. Tom ventured to set the motors at a higher speed than he had before tried, and put the aeroplane through a score of evolutions, which demonstrated that he had it perfectly under control. Oliphant in his enthusiasm returned again to the matter of the captured envoy.

“I say, is it quite out of the question, d’you think?”

“Afraid so. Perhaps in a few months——”

“That’s no good,” interrupted his companion. “The occasion will be passed. Ingleton will be either released or dead, and, in any case, there’ll be such a terrific agitation against the pater that he’ll be forced to resign. He wouldn’t mind personally; but there’s the Country, you see. Can’t you risk it?”

“I might if only myself were concerned; but there’s Mr. Greatorex to reckon with. The whole thing’s only experimental. I’m sure he wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Politics is a rotten game! Wish we were back in the times before Whigs and Tories were invented.”

“And unpopular ministers lost their heads!—Now I’m going to let her down. See how near she falls to the perpendicular.”

He dropped a hammer out of the car, stopped the horizontal motion and started the vertical, adjusted the planes, and descended gently to the ground.

“That’s better,” he cried, when he had measured the distance between the aeroplane and the hammer; “it’s only a dozen yards. We’re getting on. Really, I wish I could try your suggestion.”

“Shall I mention it to the pater?” said Oliphant eagerly.

“Not on any account,” said Tom aghast. “Even if I could do it, he of all men must not know.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Supposing I tried it and came a cropper, there’d be a double outcry against him; the first for not rescuing Sir Mark Ingleton, the second for allowing a crack-brained engineer to make a fool of himself and a corpse in the bargain. No, give it up; I don’t see any help for it.”

But when left to himself Tom could not keep his thoughts from Oliphant’s suggestion. The adventurous idea captivated his imagination; he began to consider it in earnest; he spent several hours of the afternoon in further experimenting with the aeroplane, and after dinner, when Mr. Greatorex and he went out into the grounds for their customary stroll and cigarettes, he broached the subject, in a casual way, and in much the same terms as Oliphant had used.

“Pity we couldn’t take a trip to Morocco and get Ingleton away,” he said cautiously.

“Eh! Pull Langside’s chestnuts out of the fire! He was a fool to send the man to Morocco. I wouldn’t if I could, and of course it’s impossible.”

“I’m not sure of that. And it isn’t a party matter, really.”

“Not party! It’s all party.”

“Sir Mark Ingleton is an agent of the Crown, sir, and the Crown is above party. I think in these matters we might sink our differences.”

“Yes, and sink our aeroplane, and drown ourselves, and serve us right.”

But opposition was only a stimulus to Tom. He began to argue the matter strenuously. Mr. Greatorex, to do him justice, was no bigot. His politics were at bottom a particularly intense form of patriotism; and when Tom showed him that there were at any rate possibilities in the suggestion, he gradually changed his view, forgot his reluctance to help a political opponent, and became indeed quite enthusiastic.

“By George, Tom!” he exclaimed; “what a grand send-off it would be to your invention if the first use of it were the rescue of this unfortunate diplomatist! And what a magnificent thing for the Country! Come and let’s talk it out over a cup of coffee. Not a word before Mrs. Greatorex, mind.”

“Well, John, are you pleased with your toy?” said that good lady when they re-entered the house.

“Quite, my dear, quite.”

“It will be quite a feature of our garden party. But I hope Tom will make sure that it is absolutely safe before he takes anybody up at half a crown a ride. I shall be glad of the half-crowns for my Nursing Association, but I should never forgive you if any one was hurt.”

“Why, my dear, the half-crowns would go to pay the nurses.”

Mr. Greatorex and Tom had a long talk in the study that night. Up to the present the longest journey the aeroplane had taken without descending was, as Tom estimated, about forty miles. Then something had always occurred to make a descent necessary. The principal stumbling-block had been the overheating of the motors. But Tom suggested that if he were content with a speed of about twenty-five miles an hour, a greater distance might be covered without this risk.

The practical question was, could the machine be brought so near the place of the envoy’s captivity as to make a dash upon it practicable? From the latest report, in the evening paper, it appeared that the prisoner was held in a mountain fastness some eighty miles from the Atlantic seaboard. Tom got out a map and pointed out the spot. It did not seem impossible to reach it by means of the airship from some convenient place on the coast.

“D’you know what occurs to me?” said Tom. “You were talking of a yachting cruise in the Dandy Dinmont in September. Why not make it a little earlier? I could then go in the airship and you in the yacht; and we could make that a kind of floating base, taking in it all materials necessary for repairs.”

“But you couldn’t repair the thing without letting it down on the deck.”

“I could do that, I think. To-day I came down within a few feet of the spot I aimed at, and I could let the machine down on deck if the yacht were not rolling or pitching too much.”

“But hang it all, Tom, the deck wasn’t made for such a purpose.”

“No; but it wouldn’t take long to rig up a temporary wooden platform and framework over the after-part of the vessel to serve as a landing-stage.”

“You appear to have thought it all out,” said Mr. Greatorex. “D’you want to rush me off my feet?”

“Not a bit,” replied Tom smiling. “You’ll be safe on deck.”

“Well, how long will it take to get everything ready?”

“A week.”

“Very well. I’ll write off to Bodgers to-night to trim the yacht. The rest I leave to you. And mind, not a word to a soul.”

“I think I shall have to tell Oliphant. In fact, it was he who put it into my head.”

“That’s a nuisance! Well, we’ll have him to dinner to-morrow. I want to take stock of him. Not a word till I have sized him up.”

Oliphant came to dinner with his sister and was approved. Mrs. Greatorex afterwards pronounced him to be “quite a nice boy.” Mr. Greatorex used different terms.

“He’s no fool, and don’t talk too much,” he said.

The three had a very animated discussion as they walked in the cool of the evening. Mr. Greatorex was very emphatic on the point of secrecy.

“We don’t want any newspaper fellow to get wind of the airship until we’ve proved it,” he said. “A pretty fool I should look if they gassed about it for a column or two and then the whole thing went pop like a paper balloon. And that Morocco fellow will have plenty of spies, of course; I know their Eastern ways; and if he got a hint of what we’re up to, he’d be on his guard and then there’d be fizzle.”

“How many passengers will the machine carry?” asked Oliphant.

“Three or four light-weights, I should think,” Tom replied.

“You’ll have room for me, then?”

“Good heavens, no!” cried Mr. Greatorex. “Couldn’t hear of it!”

“But it was my idea, you know, Mr. Greatorex. I was only longing for something to fill these holidays.”

“Absurd! Preposterous! You’re under age; you couldn’t go without your father’s permission; you couldn’t ask that without giving the whole thing away: and I couldn’t be responsible for you.”

“Well, I tell you what it is, Mr. Greatorex. You invite me to go a cruise in your yacht. The mater’s got a notion that my lungs are weak, and was saying only the other day that a sea trip would do me good. I’d see some of the fun, then.”

“There you are, Mr. Oliphant! Fun! I regard it as most serious, I assure you. Now, in my young days——”

“I bet you liked fun as well as any of us, Mr. Greatorex,” said Oliphant quickly. “If the truth were known, I dare say you really beat us all.”

Mr. Greatorex’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, now I come to think of it, I was a wild young rip. So they all said. I remember—— But come now, I mustn’t tell you that. Never do! Your father would never let you go; he doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to, and I’m doing my level best to kick him out at the next election.”

“And he’ll probably be jolly glad if you succeed! Mayn’t I come, Mr. Greatorex?”

“Sorry to disoblige you, Mr. Oliphant, but it would never do. No. In fact, I think we’ll give it up altogether. Too risky! We’ll give it up, Tom.”

Oliphant went home in a very bad temper.

“Mrs. Greatorex is a dear old thing,” said his sister.

“And Mr. Greatorex is an old rotter,” retorted Raymond in a tone of disgust.

Margaret Oliphant obtained very unsatisfactory answers to the questions to which this remark gave rise, and concluded that in some way Raymond had not hit it with his host.

Mr. Greatorex would doubtless have been much surprised had he seen the letter which Lord Langside wrote to his son a few days later.

“My dear Ray,” wrote the Prime Minister,—

“Are you conspiring against me, like Absalom? Mr. Greatorex can’t do me much harm on a yacht. He won’t see a newspaper for a month! Hope you’ll enjoy yourself.

“Your affectionate

“Dad.”

Oliphant showed this letter to no one. But the day he received it, he went a long and tedious journey by train across country to the little port of Horleston. He reached home very late, but in much better spirits than might have been expected after such a tiresome experience of slow trains.

CHAPTER V—OFF THE BARBARY COAST

Before the vessel put off, a custom house officer came aboard, and showed himself somewhat inquisitive as to the meaning of the strange platform newly rigged on the after deck, and as to the nature of the bulky packages. Mr. Greatorex explained that they contained a cooling apparatus which he was taking out to Morocco on behalf of an acquaintance, adding that by all accounts the country was pretty hot in all respects. With this explanation the officer had to be content. Clearly the parts of the airship did not come within the description of explosives, firearms or other articles on which he might exercise his powers of detention. Still, being by training suspicious, he was evidently by no means satisfied, and left the yacht somewhat unwillingly.

Steam was already up and the officer had barely left the vessel before she put to sea.

“Just as well to be clear away before he gets his second wind,” said Mr. Greatorex with a chuckle. In his spotless white ducks and blue cap he was enjoying himself already. “Did that uncommonly well, didn’t I, Tom?” he said. “What could be more useful than cooling apparatus when there’s a chance of getting into very hot water, eh?”

He took a run over the vessel as soon as she had made an offing. His yacht was a hobby, and whenever he went for a cruise he liked to examine her in the company of his officers, with whom, as with the crew, whom he knew individually, he was very popular. In the course of his inspection he came to the engine room.

“How do, Mr. Mumford!” he said genially to the engineer. “All in good order, eh?”

“Tip-top, sir. This is the neatest bit of machinery I’ve ever had to do with.”

“Glad to hear that. I say, is that a new stoker I see there? What’s become of Byles?”

“His mother is very ill, sir, and he had to cry off at the last moment. I was very lucky to get a man to fill the place.”

“Ha! Looks rather young, doesn’t he? Overgrown, perhaps. Any good?”

“Can’t tell yet, sir. I’ll let you know later on. He shapes very well. He’s a fine well-made young fellow; very willing, too. Byles said he’d go bail for him to any amount.”

“That’s all right. What’s his name?”

“M’Cracken, sir; Scotch, by the name. Would you like to speak to him, sir?”

“Just a word. Like to know the men, you know. Gives ’em a personal interest in their job, I always think.”

The engineer called up the new stoker, a tall young fellow in the flannel shirt open at the neck, the loose reach-me-down, and the black-lead coated trousers affected by his kind. His face and arms were begrimed with black grease, and his mouth received an extra smudge as he drew the back of his hand across it, apparently in sheepish confusion.

“You’re a new man, M’Cracken,” said the merchant pleasantly. “Hope you’ll get on well. Mr. Mumford won’t over-work you, I can answer for that. Have you been long at this job?”

“No that lang, sir; just a wee while,” the stoker replied in a somewhat husky voice.

“Exactly. Ah! well! Good morning.”

“Good mornin’, sir.”

And Mr. Greatorex went on deck, satisfied that he had established excellent relations with the newest hand.

The first part of the voyage was rather stormy. The yacht, by no means a large vessel, shipped one or two fairly heavy seas, to the no small alarm of Tom, who was anxious lest the crates containing his machine should be washed overboard or otherwise injured. But halfway through the Bay the weather moderated, and by the time the yacht reached the latitude of Lisbon both wind and sea were calm enough, he thought, for his first experiment. It had been decided that the dusk of the evening would be the best time for the attempt, for it was just as necessary on sea as on land to avoid observation. If the airship were descried from the deck of a homeward-bound vessel, the fact, and the name of the yacht, might be marconigraphed to England, and then, as Mr. Greatorex said, all Fleet Street would be in a buzz.

Early one morning the crates were broken open. It took the best part of the day to piece the machine together, and Tom went over it bit by bit several times to assure himself that everything was in order. The airship was so placed that it could take flight over the stern of the yacht. When dusk was falling, the vessel’s engines were reversed, Tom arranging that as soon as the airship rose from the deck the yacht should be sent full speed ahead, to make sure that the apparatus cleared the vessel and ran no risk of fouling the funnel.

Mr. Greatorex had shown some nervousness as the critical moment approached. He insisted on lowering a boat in case the airship came to grief and Tom were thrown into the sea. Timothy Ball, too, looked on with a most woful countenance as the final preparations were made. He had unslung a life belt, ready to slip into it and fling himself overboard if the airship broke down.

“I feel sure in my inside it won’t work,” he said anxiously to Tom, as he stepped to the car. “It’ll be worse than suicide, sir.”

“Why worse, Tim?” asked Mr. Greatorex.

“‘Cos we’re lookin’ on, sir,” said Tim solemnly, and felt much hurt by the burst of laughter with which his explanation was received.

But his anxiety was a vain expenditure of energy. With the vertical screws at full speed, and the horizontal screws half speed, the machine rose like a huge bird from the deck, with a noise like the clattering of hundreds of bats and the humming of innumerable bees. At the height of sixty feet or so Tom stopped the vertical screws, and turned the full power of his engines on to the horizontal propellers, giving to the planes just sufficient inclination to counteract the force of gravity.

“Capital!” exclaimed Mr. Greatorex, as he watched the easy flight. “First-rate! There’s a fortune in that, skipper,” he said to Captain Bodgers at his side.

“Maybe,” said the Captain reflectively. He was a man of few words.

“Rather stay on deck, eh?”

“Well, you can swim in water, sir.”

“Exactly. But how far is the fellow going? It’s getting dark, and he’ll be out of sight directly. By the way, Bodgers, there’s no law about showing lamps on an airship. But there will be—there will be. Ah! here he comes—at a spanking pace, too. He’ll overtake us in no time, going dead slow as we are.”

In less than a minute the airship had come within a little distance astern of the yacht.

“Hallo!” came a voice from the air.

“Are you there?” answered Mr. Greatorex, from force of habit at the telephone.

“Who are you?” came the response. “I say, Mr. Greatorex, pick up that boat and go full speed ahead. She’s going beautifully; the oiling she’s had has done her no end of good.”

“All right. Aren’t you coming down? It’s getting dark; I can hardly see you.”

“Not just yet. She goes smoother than the yacht, and it’s beautifully fresh up here. I can tell your whereabouts by your lights.”

“All right. Don’t get lost!”

Tom laughed. He laughed again when, from his elevated position, he saw that though the boat had been hoisted on board, four men had been told off to stand by the davits in order to lower it again at the first sign of mishap.

The yacht was sent full speed ahead. She could easily do her eighteen knots, but was no match in speed for the airship, which circled round and round her.

“She beats us hollow,” said Mr. Mumford to M’Cracken, as they watched the flight from the foot of the companion.

“Ou ay, sir. Yon’s a grand invention. It’s wonderful.”

After about an hour Tom called down that he was going to descend.

“He’d much better stay up now he’s there,” said Timothy, gloomily. “He’ll smash himself or us—I know he will.”

Tom knew that to descend was a delicate operation, to be performed with all caution. As his control over the airship was to a great extent proportionate to its speed, he shouted instructions to keep the yacht going under full steam. Coming up astern, he so adjusted his own speed as to overtake the yacht very slowly. When the airship was level with the stern, two men on board caught a cable hanging loose from the car. Then Tom gradually reduced the speed of the horizontal propellers, and started the vertical screws at half speed, keeping one hand all the time on the lever that adjusted the angles of the planes. He handled his appliances so dexterously that the airship, guided by the rope, sank steadily and accurately to the deck. Buffers of india rubber were slipped under her bottom to break the slight jar that must be inevitable when she touched the platform. Then Tom stepped out.

“Capital!” cried Mr. Greatorex, slapping him on the back. “This is going to turn out all right, my boy. What does it feel like, being up there?”

“Like a fish out of water, I should think,” said Tom, laughing. “But I thought what a helpless thing a man-of-war would be if she had to tackle an airship. I could choose my own altitude, and drop explosives on her deck and blow her to smithereens, and there’s no gun that I know of that could make an effective reply. They’d have to invent a rocket apparatus for shying melinite shells aloft.”

“Well, let’s hope that it’ll never come to that. Ours is a cooling apparatus—don’t you forget it!”

Tom was so well pleased with his first sea trial that day had scarcely dawned before he was again aloft. This time he took Timothy with him. He needed some assistance in attending to the mechanism, and now that a first ascent had been made without mishap, the man was no longer so nervous about it.

The airship had not been up more than half an hour, however, when Tom signalled to the yacht that he saw a vessel on the horizon.

“Come down at once!” roared Mr. Greatorex through a megaphone.

Tom descended, somewhat unwillingly. Nothing would have pleased him better than to steer directly for the vessel, and see what effect was produced on board by the sight of this strange bird of passage hovering above the tops. But clearly Mr. Greatorex was right, and Tom lowered the machine deftly to the deck. As the ship was heading straight for the yacht, the aeroplane was covered with tarpaulin.

The vessel turned out to be a cruiser flying the French colours. The captain spoke the yacht, and asked whether anything had been seen from its deck of an extraordinary object that appeared to have been moving through the air.

“Answer him, Tom. I’m no good at French.”

“We did see something, monsieur le capitaine,” he said, “Do you know whether Monsieur Santos-Dumont is trying his thirty-third airship?”

“I am not aware, monsieur. It may be. I saw the object very indistinctly. It suddenly disappeared.”

“Ah! I was always afraid that Monsieur Santos-Dumont would meet his death. You French, monsieur, are such adventurous spirits! When you reach Brest perhaps you will inquire whether he has recently made an ascent.”

“I will certainly do so, monsieur.”

The vessels were now out of speaking distance. Tom explained to Mr. Greatorex what he had said.

“Bravo! What with my cooling apparatus and your cool cheek I think we are keeping our secret pretty well, Tom.”

In order to escape further observation from passing vessels Mr. Greatorex had the yacht’s course set considerably westward of the usual track. It was consequently another couple of days before she came into the latitude of Rabat, the port for which she was making. Her head was turned eastward in the direction of the coast of Morocco, and, there being no vessels in sight, Tom again made an ascent, Timothy accompanying him.

The coastline gradually came into view. From an altitude of more than a hundred feet Tom saw, between him and the coast, a number of rocky islets. Here and there the varying tints of the water indicated shoals of sunken rocks.

“Know the coast?” he called down to Captain Bodgers.

“Ay, ay, sir,” said the captain.

“There are no end of shoals.”

“Know ’em all, sir; have a care you don’t strike one.”

Captain Bodgers laughed uproariously at his little joke, and Tom, circling round the yacht, set the aeroplane at full speed towards the coast. He was a considerable distance ahead when Timothy suddenly called his attention to an object projecting above the sea-level, close to one of the rocky islets that dotted the intervening space. It might have escaped their attention altogether but for a certain movement Tim fancied he discerned in it. As they drew nearer, they discovered that what Tim had thought to be a single object was in reality two, which appeared to be the broken-off stumps of two masts. Taking his field-glasses in one hand—the other always grasping the steering wheel—Tom lifted them to his eyes, got the focus, and made out that the objects were not stumps after all, but the tops of masts, and that two figures were clinging to them, one to each.

Tom had no doubt that the airship was approaching the scene of a wreck, and that the two men were in distress and danger. Steering immediately for the yacht, he came within hailing distance and through his megaphone announced his discovery.

“We’ll go to the rescue, of course,” shouted Mr. Greatorex in reply.

The wreck was as yet invisible from the deck, but it was arranged that the yacht should stand in as close as possible, and then send a boat to bring off the survivors. Meanwhile Tom, setting his engine at full speed, dashed on in the direction of the submerged vessel.

He noticed that even during the few seconds in which he had been in communication with the yacht the situation had changed. One of the masts was now tenantless. Presumably its occupant had been washed off or through fatigue had dropped into the sea. But as the airship drew rapidly nearer, it was noticed that the figure on the other mast was bending low as if to raise something from the water. Then a head and shoulders appeared above the surface. Clearly the man Tom had supposed to be lost was trying to make his way to the mast to which his companion clung.

The airship was now less than half a mile distant, and from the altitude to which they had risen—some three hundred feet above the surface—the occupants could see every detail in the strange drama that was being enacted beneath them. Assisted by the figure above, the swimmer was gradually making his way on to the mast, when suddenly a black fin appeared above the surface a few yards off. With a convulsive movement, the lowermost man had just succeeded in swinging himself a foot or two up the mast when the gaping jaws of a shark passed immediately beneath him. Tom shuddered involuntarily. The man had escaped by a few inches at the most.

In a second the shark turned and glided beneath the clinging figure. The terror-stricken wretch clutched wildly at the man above him, and began to haul himself up hand over hand, clinging to his companion’s body. But the latter, unable to bear the double weight on the smooth mast, slipped slowly downwards. He was the slighter of the two, and no match, apparently, for the man who had usurped his place.

“What a beast!” ejaculated Tom, wondering at this strange want of fellow-feeling in a man who was evidently older and stronger than his companion in distress. Slowing down, he fixed his eyes on the extraordinary spectacle. The position was now reversed. The younger and slighter man was very manifestly the under dog. With every attempt on his part to swarm up the mast the man above him kicked savagely, while the shark circled below. The fact that the second mast had become untenable seemed to indicate that the tide was rising. Neither of the men, their whole attention fixed on the sea beneath, had noticed the airship that was now hovering just above their heads.

When, however, Tom gradually allowed the airship to sink towards the sea, the shark seemed to take fright, just as smaller fish are scared by signs of movement in the air above. It left the immediate neighbourhood of the mast, and its black fin could be seen describing a much larger circle some two or three hundred yards away. Clearly it had not given up hope. When the shark moved away and the strain of terror was relaxed, the two men became suddenly aware of the presence of the airship. The topmost man was almost as much scared by the sight of the airship as he had been by the presence of the shark. Tom had already noticed that both of the men were dark skinned. The larger and stronger—the brute, as Tom mentally called him—appeared to be middle-aged; the other was a stripling.

Tom was struck by the difference in their demeanour when they caught sight of the airship; neither he nor Timothy was at present visible to them. The elder man was aghast with fright, his eyes dilated, his mouth gaped between black moustache and beard. The younger, however, seemed to pull himself together as with renewed hope. Tom fancied that he heard a cry from his lips.

Looking round, Tom saw that the yacht had now hove to, and the boat was leaving her side. But his attention was again called to the wreck by a piercing shriek. The shark, regaining confidence, had made another dash at the mast. This time it seemed to come within an inch of the terrified youth; indeed, from the cry that had reached his ears, Tom thought that the poor wretch had actually been seized. But next moment he saw that the shark had again drawn off, scared, possibly, by the cry.

There was now less of the masts above the surface. The tide was evidently rising, and with its rise the shark would have another opportunity of coming within snapping distance. Tom felt that it would not again fail. It would be at least ten minutes before the boat reached the spot; by that time the hapless lad would probably have fallen a victim. Tom had noticed that when the shark was all but upon him, and he made a convulsive movement upwards, he was met by a storm of kicks from the man above, threatening to dislodge him completely from the mast and hurl him into the very jaws of the monster.

In a moment Tom made up his mind. He ordered Timothy to let down from the car a light grapnel carried for use in emergencies, and also for raising anything that might be needed, without having to bring the airship to rest on the ground. Then he allowed the machine to sink gently until the grapnel dangled within reach of the man at the top. Tom had no intention of helping him first; by his conduct he deserved to be left to drown or to make a meal for the shark. But the man seemed indeed quite incapable of movement, except when scared to frenzy by the efforts of the youth below to regain the position from which he had been forced. He made no attempt to clutch the grapnel dangling at his very hand. Tom let the machine fall lower, until the grapnel came within reach of the younger man. He showed no such hesitation. Looking along the cable, he saw Timothy gazing down at him from the car. The sight of a human face gave him confidence. He clutched at the grapnel, let go his hold of the mast, and swung clear, Timothy attempting to steady the rope.

His sudden movement threatened a catastrophe. The airship was now only about sixty feet above the sea, and before Tom, his attention partly engaged by the efforts of the boy, could increase the speed of the ascensional screw, the light vessel was pulled swiftly downwards. For a moment he felt that it must inevitably be dragged into the water. The young fellow below, still clutching desperately at the grapnel, had actually begun to sink beneath the surface. But as soon as his weight was supported by the water, the ascensional screw, now set by Tom whirling at full speed, checked the downward movement, and in another couple of seconds the airship began to rise, dragging the youth upwards.

In his excitement Tom had momentarily forgotten the shark. That persistent creature, however, having overcome its fear of the monster of the air, made a dash for the youth as he entered the sea. The poor wretch had the narrowest escape of all when the shark passed just beneath him, as, whirling round on the grapnel, he was swung clear of the water.

Now that he was safe from the cruel jaws, the lad showed himself to be possessed of no little agility. Hand over hand he swarmed up the cable until he reached the lower rail of the car, which he clutched, and by Timothy’s aid he clambered over. Meanwhile Tom had steered the airship towards the approaching boat.

“Give way with a will, men!” he shouted. “There’s no time to be lost. We’ve got one; the other man will be nabbed by a shark if you aren’t there pretty soon. I can see the brute’s fin above the water just by the mast.”

The men spurted. As the boat approached the submerged vessel, the shark took fright and glided swiftly away. In another half-minute the man was taken from his precarious perch, and lifted, in a state of complete collapse, into the boat.

CHAPTER VI—SALATHIEL BEN EZRA

“Didn’t mean that, you egoist. I meant you saved this young fellow uncommonly well; saw it all through my binocular. Dangerous things, sharks. Who is the boy?”

“I haven’t asked him yet. I thought we might give him a dry change and then see if we can make out anything. He probably can’t speak English.”

“Very well. Bodgers, find some toggery and take him into the cabin. Who’s the other fellow?”

“We shall find out presently. Shall we go into the cabin? I’d like to put a few questions before the other man comes aboard.”

They found that Captain Bodgers had rigged up the boy in a sailor’s suit much too large for him.

“Capital!” cried Mr. Greatorex. “Much more respectable! Can you speak English, boy?”

“Me speak English little bit, and Spanish little bit,” replied the boy with a frank smile.

“That’s capital! Not the Spanish, you know; but the English.”

“I tank very much for the gentleman’s goodness——”

“Yes, yes, that’s all right. But come now, how did you get into that pretty pickle?”

The boy looked puzzled.

“Tell us how the ship came to be wrecked,” said Tom, translating.

“Aiyeh! She caught in fog last night, struck rock. Quick it was all over; no one live, only me and Salathiel ben Ezra.”

“That is your friend’s name, is it? A Jew?”

“Yes, excellency, a Jew. A dog of a Jew!”

“And you are not a Jew? What is your name?”

“Abdul, most merciful—Abdul ben Cassim, of Ain Afroo in Zemmur.”

“Zemmur!” ejaculated Mr. Greatorex. “Isn’t that the neighbourhood where Ingleton is said to be?”

“Yes,” replied Tom. “We may find the lad useful. Tell us, Abdul, how you came to be at sea with a Jew.”

Abdul explained that, some five or six years before, his father, a well-to-do saddlemaker of Ain Afroo, had contrived to quarrel with the sheikh of his district, refusing, in fact, to pay the sheikh a very extortionate levy. It was, Abdul admitted, a foolish thing to do, for soon afterwards the saddlemaker died mysteriously. His family took instant flight with what possessions they could get together, and found refuge in Casa Blanca, where the boy had a distant relative, the owner of a small coasting vessel. Since that time he had been engaged in trading up and down the coast, and in his journeyings had picked up a smattering of English and Spanish.

The small capital which the family had brought with them had been considerably increased by profitable investments in trading ventures of the lad’s kinsman. A share in the business was owned by Salathiel ben Ezra, the Jew who was now being brought from the wreck in the yacht’s boat. It was very unlucky; Abdul could not but think that the wreck must have been caused by an evil spell cast on the boat by the Jew; for Salathiel had never voyaged on the vessel before. The loss of the ship meant the loss of almost the whole of his family’s little fortune, and Abdul feared they would be placed in the power of Salathiel, who already had some claim on them which Abdul himself did not understand. But everything happened by the will of Allah; it was written, and what is written must be.

Abdul’s story was hardly finished when the Jew was hauled on board. He appeared to have quite regained his self-possession during the short passage of the boat. He made a deep obeisance when Mr. Greatorex met him on deck.

“I pay a thousand dutiful civilities,” he said in a low smooth voice. “The honourable sir overwhelms me with kindness in saving me and my humble companion from the jaws of the monster, and my thanks are even as the sand of the shore. May I beg the little loan of a dry garment or two?”

“Take Mr. Salathiel below, Captain Bodgers,” said Mr. Greatorex, “and see what you can do for him.”

With a deep salaam and a fawning smile the Jew departed.

“Um!” grunted Mr. Greatorex. “Don’t like his looks, Tom.”

“He’s not prepossessing, certainly; a little too glib, don’t you think?”

“A rascal, Tom; mark my words.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that. But we may get something out of this, Mr. Greatorex. This young Moor comes from the very country where Ingleton is said to be. Don’t you think we may profit by that?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why, instead of making for Rabat, as we intended, why not find some quieter harbour where we shall not be such public characters, and get the youngster to act as guide into the hills? No doubt he bears a grudge against the sheikh who disposed of his father. If he has anything of the usual oriental thirst for revenge he will be very willing to help us.”

“Well, sound him; go at it cautiously, you know; tact—that’s the thing.”

Meanwhile Salathiel ben Ezra had been clothed by Captain Bodgers in blue serge trousers, a nankeen waistcoat, and an oilskin, the only other garment available. The Jew cut a strange figure in this unfamiliar attire. He was short, fat, thick-necked; the lower part of his face was hidden by dense black moustache and beard; his eyes were unequal in size and different in colour, and had a trick of roaming all around as he talked.

“This is very elegant yacht,” he said to Captain Bodgers as the garments were laid before him. The captain, always a silent man, made no reply. “That is most marvellous creature, the thing that flies in the air,” the Jew continued; “I have never seen anything like it. It is without doubt a new sport—the English love sport. They spend much money in sport. And where is the yacht bound for, good captain?”

“Goin’ a cruise,” said the captain shortly.

“Without doubt. And perhaps the kind governor will permit to call at a port—at Rabat, say; for I am not a man of the sea, and I have business there.”

“Better ask him.”

“I will do so. I will say also how I fill myself with wonder of the thing that flies. I myself am a sport!”

Salathiel not merely expressed his wonderment to Mr. Greatorex, but displayed a very active curiosity as to the construction of the machine and the choice of those waters for the practice of the new sport. Mr. Greatorex gave him no satisfaction, and was indeed somewhat curt in his replies to the man’s leading questions; but Salathiel smiled at each rebuff, thereby confirming Mr. Greatorex’s conviction that he was a rascal.

The yacht lay to for several hours, getting under way again in the afternoon. It was very hot; everybody was more or less sleepy, and Tom thought it a good time to sound the Moor as to his willingness to assist in the expedition. They had a long conversation in the cabin, the result of which was entirely satisfactory to Tom. Abdul’s one object in life was to wreak vengeance on the sheikh for the wrongs his family had suffered, and it was to be a thorough vengeance. He would not be satisfied merely with the death of his enemy; that might have been achieved already. But he was determined to ruin the sheikh’s family, just as his own had been ruined. He had hoped to save enough money in course of time to gather about him a band of trusty Riffians who would raid the oppressor’s stronghold. The loss of the vessel had swept away the savings of five years; but he was resolved to begin again and even if fifty years were to pass before he was in a position to accomplish his aim, he would never relinquish it. The sheikh himself might die before then; in that case the weight of the avenging hand would fall on his descendants.

When Tom reported to Mr. Greatorex the result of this conversation the worthy merchant was shocked.

“Terrible, terrible!” he said. “Most unchristian! The Moors are no better than heathen, Tom.”

“Well, we don’t know what it’s like. I don’t think you would be very sweetly disposed towards any one who had served you as he has been served.”

“Me! I’d bring an action against the villain, you may be sure of that.”

“I don’t suppose they have actions at law in Morocco. But it’s quite clear that he will be willing to help us.”

“True. I’ll go down with you, and we’ll come to an understanding with him.”

At this second interview Tom explained to Abdul the object he had in view, and invited his assistance, Mr. Greatorex promising that if he would guide Tom to the spot where the British diplomatist was held captive he should be rewarded with a sum equal to what he had lost through the wreck. Further, if Sir Mark Ingleton should actually be got away safely, the sum should be doubled. Abdul jumped at the offer, and listened respectfully enough when Mr. Greatorex went on to say that he hoped the money would not be put to bad uses.

“Everything happens by the will of Allah,” he said; “what is to be, must be.”

It was dusk when the little party broke up. Nobody noticed a figure wriggle away from a ventilating grating over the skylight of the cabin. Salathiel ben Ezra had watched these conferences between the Moor and the Christians with much curiosity and suspicion, and without attracting the attention of any one on deck he had contrived to steal to a spot where he overheard a considerable part of the conversation.

Before he turned in, Tom had a long talk with Mr. Greatorex, which took an unexpected trend. The two were alone in the cabin. Tom was in the highest spirits, for the greatest difficulty he had foreseen—the difficulty of finding his way about the hill village when he should arrive at it—seemed to have been removed now that he had secured a guide in Abdul.

“You see, it’s just about there,” he said, putting his finger down on the map he had unrolled and spread on the table. “It is barely a hundred miles inland, and without putting any strain on the engines I can do it comfortably in four hours. Of course, we must arrive after dark; so to-morrow night I think we’ll make a start—Timothy and I and the Moor.”

Then it was that the unexpected happened. Mr. Greatorex had been staring gravely at the map. Suddenly he brought his fist down on it with a bang.

“Look here, Tom,” he said, “we’ll drop it.”

Tom was taken too much aback for words.

“Yes, we’ll drop it. I won’t allow it. Suppose anything goes wrong with the machine, where are you? tell me that! In those hills—wild country, wild men—fanatics, you know: hate all Christians, no sense of law and order, won’t pay their taxes, don’t care tuppence for their rulers—oh! I’ve read all about ’em, you know, and ‘pon my soul I don’t know what I was thinking of to come out here at all. We’ve had a pleasant run, we’ve tested the airship; it’ll do, Tom: but now we’ll go back, my boy, to our land of peace and settled government.”

“But what about Sir Mark Ingleton?”

“Hang Ingleton! Ingleton never invented anything! If those Moors get hold of you, England loses an inventor and I lose my man. No, no; we mustn’t meddle with state affairs.”

And then Tom spent an hour in patiently combatting Mr. Greatorex’s objections, and in the end had for his meagre reward the indecisive remark—

“Well, we’ll see, Tom, we’ll see.”

Next morning Mr. Greatorex made no allusion to this conversation, but was observed in close colloquy with Captain Bodgers. The result of this removed the weight from Tom’s mind. The yacht coasted up and down, the captain scanning the desolate shore narrowly through his glass. At last he found what he had been searching for, and steered the yacht into a snug little bay. The country was well wooded, the trees coming down almost to the edge of the narrow sandy beach.

“Can’t better this, sir,” said the captain. “The anchorage is none too good, and if a storm comes up we may have to put out to sea; but it’s a quiet place, as you see; can’t do no better.”

“Very well. Now, Tom, I’m going to risk it. There’s the Country to consider, you see. But you’ll make me a promise not to run into danger; I know you won’t run away from it!”

“With all my heart,” replied Tom. “We’ll start to-night.”

He spent the hours of daylight in making preparations. The machine was overhauled; provisions and arms were stowed in the car; and Tom eagerly awaited the moment for setting forth on his adventure.

In the afternoon, while the preparations were still in progress, a crowd of natives appeared on the cliffs south of the bay—wild-looking men clad in djellabas and kaftans and yellow shoes, and all armed with long guns. They made no attempt to open communication with the yacht, but encamped on the cliff as though to keep an eye on her movements.

Some little time afterwards, a small native craft was observed entering the cove. Her appearance was hailed with shouts from the cliff, where there were signs of excitement among the throng of spectators.

“Barbary pirates, eh, Bodgers!” said Mr. Greatorex, taking a look at the felucca through his glass.

“Maybe, sir; they’ve plied that trade hereabouts for hundreds of years.”

“They’re making for the yacht.”

“Yes. We’ll serve out arms, sir; it’s as well to be on the safe side.”

“Tom, cover up the airship. I don’t suppose they’ll know what it is, but, as Bodgers says, it’s as well to be on the safe side.”

As the vessel drew near, it was seen that she carried some thirty fierce-looking fellows, tall and finely made. One of them hailed the yacht. Mr. Greatorex called Abdul to his side and bade him interpret.

“Say they want to come on ship, sir—see the captain—do trade for guns and powder.”

“What do you say, Bodgers? Shall we let a few of them come aboard?”

“I would, sir. A few won’t do no harm, and if we can make friends of them, so much the better.”

Accordingly, half a dozen Moors were allowed to mount to the yacht’s deck. They appeared to be much disappointed when Mr. Greatorex politely explained through Abdul that he had no commercial object; his ostensible purpose, to see the country, scarcely satisfied them. But they recovered their spirits when he offered to show them over the vessel; and afterwards when, at the suggestion of Captain Bodgers, who knew something of the Moorish habits, they were each given a cup of weak tea and unlimited sugar, they smacked their lips and declared themselves well pleased with their reception.

While they were still sipping their tea, squatting on the deck, Salathiel ben Ezra, who had hitherto kept in the background, came to Mr. Greatorex and begged the favour of a few minutes’ conversation.

“I ask you, excellency, to be so kind, as let me go with the men, when they leave this ship. I have business on land; and thank you for your kindness, and take leave respectfully.”

“Hm! Moors friends of yours, eh?”

“No, no; the Moors do not love the men of my nation; they oppress us; they call us dogs and sons of swine.”

“Well then, you’d better stay aboard, you know. You wouldn’t be safe among them in a wild spot like this. We can land you at Rabat in a day or two; you’ll be safer in a port.”

“Ah, excellency, but I do not love the sea. It has wrecked my vessel; I have much fear of the sharks. I am not at ease until I set foot again on dry land.”

Mr. Greatorex was perplexed. He had no reasonable excuse for detaining the Jew: yet, remembering that the man had seen the airship at work, he recognized that it would be in the highest degree impolitic to allow him to go ashore and spread the news. He beckoned Tom forward and told him of the Jew’s request. Tom instantly grasped the situation.

“Mr. Salathiel forgets,” he said, “that we have a claim for salvage on his effects. (Whether we have such a claim legally I don’t know,” he said to Mr. Greatorex afterwards, “but it was the first thing that came into my head.”)

“That is most true,” said the Jew, with a smile; “but alas! I lost everything in the wreck; and have only my clothes, and they——”

He shrugged expressively.

“Sorry for you,” said Tom. “Still, it would not be fair to your companion Abdul to leave him to meet our claim alone.”

“But he can come with me,” said Salathiel eagerly. “He will be with his countrymen.”

“You were not so anxious for his company when I first saw you,” replied Tom drily. “No, Mr. Salathiel; it will be better for you both to come with us to Rabat: there we can lay this little matter of salvage before the authorities.”

The Jew heaved a sigh as of weariness, and acquiesced with a smile. Neither Tom nor Mr. Greatorex was aware that while the Moors were being shown over the vessel, Salathiel had had a few moments’ conversation with one of them. The only man on board who had observed this—and he had not given a second thought to it—was M’Cracken, the new stoker.

The Moors left the yacht; the felucca sailed away; not shorewards, as Tom had expected, but out to sea. The crowd on the cliff dispersed and disappeared, and Tom’s final preparations were made unobserved.

Night fell, and the little bay, hemmed in by the surrounding cliffs, was enveloped in pitchy darkness. Ten o’clock had been fixed as the time for the ascent of the airship, and up to the last moment Tom employed himself in seeing that all was right. Mr. Greatorex was fidgety, asking the same questions, repeating the same warnings, over and over again, until Tom began to fear that even now he would change his mind and prohibit the expedition. His excitement infected every member of the crew. The men had eyes only for the wonderful machine and for the figures that moved to and fro about it in the light of the yacht’s electric lamps. Even the men of the watch were diverted from their duties when they perceived that the lashings holding the airship to the deck were being cast loose. Thus it was that no one had observed a small craft gliding into the bay; no one had noticed that a rope hung over the side of the yacht from the main deck forward; no one was on the look-out when a dusky form clambered silently up and helped to lower Salathiel ben Ezra into the boat riding alongside.

But it happened that Timothy Ball, going forward at that moment to fetch his reefer, which he had left in the fore cabin, noticed what was afoot just as he reached the companion way. With a shout he dashed forward to lay hands on the intruder. But, quick as thought, the Moor whipped out a knife and struck at Timothy; and when the sailors came running to the spot they found the poor fellow groaning on the deck, and caught a glimpse of a felucca speeding away into the gloom.