The Air Pirate
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"Danjuro!" I cried, "this ship is wonderful beyond all imagining! There isn't her equal in the whole world. She'll revolutionize flying. It's a perfect joy to pilot her!"
Danjuro nodded calmly; he was not given to enthusiasms, this man with a panther in his soul. "I have been speaking with the prisoner," he said.
"With Vargus?"
"No, though I have been to look at him, and he is quite safe. With Gascoigne, and he has suggested something that has not occurred to either of us, Sir John."
"His help will all tell in his favour when it comes to the trial. What is it now?"
"Something eminently sensible and pressing! As you see, this ship is quite unmistakable. Any pilot would recognize her from the descriptions which have been circulated. We are now approaching the coast again and about to fly to Plymouth. The air must be full of armed patrol ships, and, whatever our speed, if we escape being shot down en route, we should certainly be blown to pieces on approaching the sea-drome!"
I flushed up. I had been an incredible ass never to have thought of that before. It was only too true. Nobody could possibly know that we had captured the Pirate Ship…
I reduced our speed to half of what it had been. "What are we to do?" I said.
"There is a complete wireless installation on board the ship. Can you operate it, Sir John?"
"No. Even if I could leave the controls, that would be impossible. I know nothing about it, unfortunately."
"Nor I, Sir John. It is a gap in my knowledge that I propose to remedy shortly. But this Gascoigne is an operator, and offers to send any message."
"I suppose we can trust him? He certainly saved us from disaster coming out of the cavern."
I shuddered; I did not want to think of that blood-stained hole of horror any more.
"Yes, I think he can he trusted. He has everything to gain, and can do no harm that I can see. I cannot operate the keys of the apparatus, but I know the Morse code, and if I stand by him I can check each letter as he sends it out."
Then I had an inspiration too. "Good! And now I think I can make it quite sure. I can remember the private code of the Air Police with hardly a gap. We will call up Plymouth, and all the police boats now flying, in that private code. Meanwhile, we had better run out to sea again while you are taking it down."
Again I turned the ship, and as we spiralled up and out again, I formed the message in my mind and translated it, word for word, into the letters of the code, which Danjuro took down in pencil upon a sheet of his pocket-book.
When I had finished, and as the message was necessarily rather a long one it took some time, Danjuro marched Gascoigne away to the rear cabin, where Vargus was lying. It was there, you may remember, that the wireless apparatus was installed.
We were now reaching a great height, far above any of the regular air-lanes, and I felt quite secure from any attack. Land, sea, every reminder of the world below, had vanished utterly. With hardly a sound from the magic engines we floated in a haze of gold chrysophrase. It was like a happy dream, though never was dream so beautiful.
Connie stole in again. "I thought I would leave Thumbwood and Wilson alone," she said. "They have been sitting side by side and whispering to each other ever since we started. Neither of them seems to have the least curiosity as to where we are or where we're going."
"How thoughtful of you, dearest! Was that the only reason you came in here!"
The rest of the conversation is not a part of this story. It lasted a long time as we droned round great five-mile circles of the upper air. And then a telephone rang at my ear.
Danjuro was speaking. The message had been received at Plymouth, and an answer had been coming through for the last ten minutes. He was writing it down, letter by letter, from Gascoigne's dictation. Shortly afterwards he brought it in to me, and as I read it off the world closed round me again and fairyland vanished.
Triumph filled my veins and reddened my blood. The message came from Muir Lockhart, who was at Plymouth again, and was one shout of wonder and congratulation. "The whole world will thank you," it concluded.
For a little time I was intoxicated by that message. I saw myself a hero, vindicated a thousand times in the eyes of all men, the Chief of Air Police whose name would be historical. I think there are few men of my age who would not have had their moment of vainglory; we are made so. But as I read the message to the man who had brought it, I realized that I had done nothing, after all, and that everything was due to his marvellous brilliancy and courage.
Thank Heaven that I realized it without a pang of envy, and I told him what I thought of him in no unstinted way.
He heard me to the end with no change of countenance. When I had done, he said: "You have been very kind, Sir John, and I greatly appreciate what you have said. If, indeed, you are indebted to me in any way for the help I have been able to give, you can repay me, if you will."
"To the half of my kingdom!" I said, with a laugh, though I was in dead earnest all the same.
"That is a promise, Sir John?" He looked down at me with magnetic eyes.
"A promise, Danjuro."
"Then, while I live, I ask you to say nothing whatever of my part in this affair. I wish it kept as secret as possible; some little part must leak out; there will be investigations, public trials, and so forth. But much can be kept secret, and it rests with you and Thumbwood. And as I have your promise, my mind is at rest."
"But this is madness, Danjuro! You are owed the thanks of two continents. You …"
He interrupted me.
"I want nothing of the sort. I have had your thanks, and that is sufficient. The work itself is enough. My usefulness to Mr. Van Adams, the endeavour of my whole life, would be destroyed if anything were known."
Reluctantly I promised. "But Mr. Van Adams, I shall tell him everything!" I said.
Danjuro bowed his head. A faint flush came into his yellow face. "If you think I have done anything worth it," he replied, with a curious and touching silence.
And this was the man with the panther in his soul! For the American millionaire he had supreme love, with devotion – worship – and for no one and nothing else on earth above or below it.
A man with a single obsession, a man of one idea. Well, most of the great men in life have been that…
I steered for Plymouth at full speed, coming down to three thousand feet. In a flash the jagged coast, fringed with a thin line of white, came clear to view. We sped from the Atlantic, over the narrow peninsula of land which divides it from the Channel, and then turned east. The Bay, with St. Michael's Mount looking like a tiny white pebble, gave place to the long, menacing snout of the Lizard, and, as a few minutes later we neared Falmouth, a flight of airships rose from the water of that mighty harbour and came up to join us like a flock of gulls, the big Klaxon electric horns blaring a welcome. Dead Man's Rock and Gall Island, Looe, Mevagissey, Fowey – all slipped away astern, and the bluff outlines of Rame Head, from which the Devon watchers first signalled the Armada, came rushing into view. I had been speeding far ahead, turning back, flying all round the escorting patrol boats, which were doing all they knew, letting them see what a wonder had come into our hands, and rejoicing more and more in the powers of the ship, as I found them one by one. Now I slowed down, and signalled by horn to the leading vessel of the flotilla.
As we turned and entered Plymouth Sound, the others spread themselves out in a great wedge, of which I was leader, like a skein of wild geese upon the wing. A salute of guns boomed out as we flew high on the Breakwater, and all the bells of Plymouth were ringing as I swooped down into the sea-drome.
And all this time, for three-quarters of an hour or more, our two prisoners had been alone together in the aft cabin, where the tools and spare parts were stored. Neither I nor Danjuro had given them a further thought, and it was the one fatal mistake we made upon that morning of triumph.
Thumbwood had, however, been in to look at them once or twice, and had seen nothing disturbing. Certainly, when some of my men came to take them to the station, they were lying sullen in their bonds, and not saying a word to each other of any kind.
But by that time the mischief was doubtless done.
* * * * * *Space begins to press upon me. There are still two strange and unforgettable scenes to add to this narrative, further tragedies to set down. The last scene of all, which I have called "The Epilogue," was not written for a year after the earlier part of this story, which is now published as a whole for the first time. Why this is so will become clear as you read on, if you care to follow me to the very end.
But as I would not weary you, I will only indicate the happenings during the rest of that day at Plymouth in the briefest possible fashion. I am impatient to bring the story up to the hour of eleven-thirty of the same night.
Immediately we were at rest on the placid waters of the sea-drome, Muir Lockhart, with a strong force of Air Police, came aboard. Constance and her maid were taken in a motor-boat to one of my patrol ships, which started with them for the Hounslow Aerodrome within half an hour of our arrival. We both of us thought it best that she should proceed to London immediately, and going by air in a Government ship, she would escape all annoyance and publicity.
All approach to the sea-drome was barred, and though the Hoe was crowded with spectators, none of them could approach anywhere near to us. When I had given Lockhart an outline of what had occurred, the two prisoners were taken over the pool with a strong guard, and run up in the private lift to the A.P. station, where there was a strong cell ready to receive them. Then I was free to show my colleague, himself an expert airman, the wonders of our capture.
I was doing this – we were in the pilot's cabin – when one of my men came in and said that a motor-launch had come alongside from the private air-yacht May Flower, which was moored not a hundred yards away. I had noticed, when descending, that a magnificent yacht was close by, but I did not identify it as Mr. Van Adams' ship. It appeared that he had been sleeping aboard for the last two or three nights, since he had flown down from London for the funeral, and was now alongside.
Van Adams, of course, was an exception to all ordinary rules, and in a minute he was shaking hands in the private saloon and betraying a most lively curiosity as to our adventures. I put Danjuro to satisfy him, and when we had discussed a bottle of Helzephron's champagne, I left a couple of trusted men to guard the ship, and went ashore. Danjuro returned to the May Flower with his patron.
The rest of the day was a whirl of business and excitement, though I managed to get three hours much needed sleep in the afternoon.
Wires from the Government, from America, from Royalty, poured in, in a never-ceasing stream. There were innumerable officials to see, the correspondents of the great newspapers to satisfy with some sort of story – a hundred things to do and arrange for. The whole of England was in a ferment, and the stone building of the Air Police on the Hoe was, for a few hours, the centre of it all. The air was thick with patrol ships, warning off aviators of all kinds from approaching the Pirate Ship, which lay at rest and harmless by the north wall of the pool.
Just before I retired to rest the news of what was called "The Battle of the Moor" began to come through. The pirates, seeing their ship gone, had rushed up again into the house, and had held it with the courage of desperation. Only three of them had survived, and were now locked up in the police-station at Penzance.
… It would take many pages to detail the events of that crowded day, which did not end for me until ten o'clock at night, for I was forced to attend a congratulatory dinner at the "Royal." Previous to that I had found it necessary to summon Danjuro from the May Flower, where he had remained quietly with Mr. Van Adams during the day. It was necessary that I should be restored to something like my former self, and only Danjuro could make me blond again! My moustache, alas! he could not restore.
I had arranged to sleep at the station, where there were several bedrooms, and about ten-thirty I passed the sentry and entered the grounds.
Plymouth was now quiet. It was a hot, dark night, with neither moon nor stars. During the day the weather had changed, and now thunder muttered far away at sea and amethyst sheet-lightning flickered upon the horizon.
Now and again a drop of hot rain fell.
CHAPTER XIX
LAST FLIGHT OF THE PIRATE AIRSHIP
The station superintendent met me in the office, which was brilliantly lit and cooled by an electric fan.
"I expect you're feeling pretty well done, Sir John," he said.
"I feel pretty tired, Johnson, I own."
"There's a big thunderstorm coming up, not a doubt of it. The air'll be cooler afterwards. All the arrangements about the prisoners are made, sir."
The staff had been in communication with London all day upon this matter, but I had not heard the result. I inquired from the superintendent now.
"Our two birds, Sir John, and the three they've got at Penzance are to travel to London to-night. They'll be brought up at Bow Street for a minute or two, and remanded for a week to suit your convenience. The Home Office will communicate with you, sir."
"Very well. How are they going?"
"The night mail train leaves Penzance at twelve, and gets here at two. The other three will be on board and well guarded. Our prisoners will join the train at Mill Bay Station. I've detailed Prosser and Moore to escort them."
"See that the men are well armed. How are the prisoners?"
"Very quiet, sir. They seem to realize that it's all up with them. They've taken their food all right."
"They are both together?"
"Yes, Sir John. You see, we've only the one cell that is absolutely safe. But that can't make any difference. A man looks in every half-hour. They can't hear him coming, and he reports that they don't even talk."
"They're not handcuffed?"
"No, I didn't think it necessary, sir. They will be, and chained together, too, when they leave for the train. We searched them thoroughly, and took everything they had on them away half an hour after they were brought in. Would you like to see them, sir?"
"I don't think so, Johnson. I've been a good deal too much in their society during the last day or two. I don't want to look at that Vargus again until he's in the dock, and I'm giving evidence against him."
"He's a wicked-looking customer, if ever I saw one," said the inspector, with a face of disgust. "Well, good-night, sir, and I hope you'll sleep well. I've told the station attendant to have your bath ready at eight. He'll call you then."
The good Johnson went away, and I was left alone. My head ached, and I felt disinclined for sleep at once. I undressed, however, and sat in pyjamas as I smoked a final pipe. There was whisky, soda and a bowl of ice, and I took a peg. I felt singularly low and dispirited. It was, I supposed, the inevitable reaction of the nerves after all I had endured, combined with the heavy pressure of the atmosphere and the electric tension of the storm. At any rate, I remember feeling – as everyone does at times – that the greatest triumphs and successes were worth very little, after all, when once they were achieved. There is bitterness at the bottom of every cup —surgit amari aliquid– and life was a poor thing at best. And I fell to reflecting on the evil and misery that can be wrought by one man.
The gaunt spectre of Hawk Helzephron haunted my mind, and the long row of dead men that must be laid to his account, the brave fellows of my own service, the Transatlantic people – to say nothing of the black scoundrels that he had made and tempted, who had been hurried into eternity with their crimes unrepented…
It was a morbid train of thought, but I was worn out, and the dark hour had its way with me, until I thought of Connie and her merciful preservation from harm, my own rescue. Then, rather ashamed of myself, I made an effort to banish these gloomy imaginings, said my prayers, and got into bed.
All the same, as I fell asleep, the stammer of the approaching thunder and the white glare of lightning, which now and then flashed into the darkened room, seemed like the growling of those awful dogs and the glare of the advancing airship in the cave…
I think now that I must have had some unconscious premonition of the tragedy which was racing towards me all the time.
… I was awakened sharply and suddenly, at first I thought by a flash of lightning. But it was not so. The electrics had been suddenly turned on, and there were men in uniform round my bed. The wind had risen and was whistling outside. A deluge of thunder rain was in progress, and great sheets of water were flung against the window.
I saw Superintendent Johnson. His face was white as linen.
"What is it?" I shouted.
He shouted in answer, and I heard his voice above the tumult of the storm.
"The prisoners, Sir John," he wailed. "They've got away. They picked the lock of the cell somehow, got into the passage, and broke the bars of the window at the end. We none of us heard a sound!"
I leapt out of bed and began to bellow orders for pursuit – until I saw Johnson's terrified face again, and knew that I had not heard all.
"… They got down to the water somehow, sir. They must have climbed down the lift rails. And they swam to the ship…"
"Good God! What ship?"
"Their own ship, Sir John. Somehow or other they managed to get on board; we've just heard…"
"Where are they?"
"They did for the two men on board, and must have managed to start the engines —the ship's gone. The searchlights are all over the pool, and there's no trace of her. They were seen, Sir John, I …"
He broke off short, the words drying up in his mouth. All the other men shrank together in a frightened group as Danjuro came slowly into the room.
I have never seen a figure so awe-inspiring, or terrible.
In moments of supreme emotion a European grows chalk-white, an Asiatic grey.
The Japanese was livid grey now, and his face seemed carved with fantastic gashes – grey rubber slashed with a knife. He was like a man who had slept a thousand years and wakened to find himself old, and in hell.
He came slowly up to me, moving like a thing on wheels drawn by a cord, and when he was close, he spoke.
I can never recall his voice without an almost physical state of fear. Suppose that you could go with Dante to that gate over which is written, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." And suppose, as you stood there and listened, you heard a well-known voice far down, saying, "I am tormented in this flame…"
Well, Danjuro's voice was like that.
"During a lull in the storm," he said, as if repeating a lesson, "I went up on the deck of the May Flower for a breath of air. Mr. Van Adams accompanied me. We were looking over the water to the Pirate Ship, when I saw lights flashing up and down through the portholes of the fuselage. It struck me as strange. We wondered what the two men in charge could be doing. As we watched, we were just able to distinguish two men coming up on deck. Then there came a vivid flash of lightning, and I saw everything plainly. The two men were Vargus and Gascoigne, and they were carrying the body of a man in uniform, which they lowered into the water."
Inspector Johnson gave a quick gasp. Danjuro continued:
"Without a moment's delay I got a couple of pistols, and Mr. Van Adams and I jumped into the electric launch, which was moored alongside the May Flower, though on the other side to that which faced the Pirate. There was no time to summon help. We shot out into the pool just as the storm began again with thunder-claps and a deluge of water. We were within a few yards of the ship and making ready to board her, when Mr. Van Adams flashed a powerful electric torch, and I saw Vargus with a knife in his hand hacking at the mooring ropes. At the same time I noticed that the lights in the pilot's cabin had been turned on.
"I took a snap-shot at Vargus and missed him. Almost simultaneously he fired directly at the light of the torch which Mr. Van Adams held. The bullet went through Mr. Van Adams' heart, and he fell back dead in my arms – I was steering the launch. I fired off all the cartridges in my pistol, but the thunder drowned the noise. The Pirate Ship began to move. I saw the lights in her side moving along – and then she lifted and disappeared."
The awful voice ceased, and all of us in that room stood like waxen figures in a show.
* * * * * *For three days the Press and public were kept in entire ignorance of what had happened during the storm.
Upon the fourth, just as I was beginning to think that all my measures were in vain and that the Pirate Ship had vanished utterly, the Head Office in Whitehall received two long telegrams from the Prefect of Finistère in France and the Chief of Police of Quimper, the old cathedral city in Brittany.
On one of the wild and lonely Breton moors a goat-herd had discovered the wreckage of a large airship. By it was the body of a young man, but only one body. The telegrams urgently asked me to come over at once.
I did so, in my fastest patrol boat. Lying in a wild wilderness of gorse and heather were the remains of the Pirate Ship. It had been destroyed beyond possibility of reconstruction, and destroyed methodically and deliberately while at rest upon the ground. There was no doubt about that. The body I afterwards saw in the Morgue at Quimper was that of Gascoigne. He had not met his death by any accidental means, but had been stabbed in the back.
He must have been dead for quite two days before the goat-herd made his discovery, and of Vargus, living or dead, there was not a trace.
I was back in London again that night, and just as I was going to bed in Half Moon Street the bell of the flat rang. Thumbwood went to the door and announced that Mr. Danjuro wished to see me.
He was in evening dress, and quite his old self again to outward appearances, except that his black hair had turned an iron grey.
For a moment or two we discussed details of the inquest that had been held in camera upon poor Van Adams, arrangements made for the trial of the three surviving pirates, and so on. Then I told him what I had seen at Quimper.
"Mr. Muir Lockhart told me of the telegrams from France," he said. "I called at Whitehall, but you had already started for Quimper, Sir John. I must apologize for such a late call, but I was anxious to hear your news. Now I see my way clear."
"I suppose, after your great loss, you will go back to America, or perhaps Japan, and settle down?"
He shook his head.
"You know," I continued, "that if you cared for it, there is a highly-paid and important position open to you with the Air Police? Nothing would give me greater pleasure, as you know, than to have you as a colleague."
"I thank you, Sir John, but I have other work to do. I am a rich man, but that only interests me, inasmuch as it is a means to an end. When that end is reached …"
He made a curious gesture with his arm, which I did not understand.
"May I ask what your work is?"
He looked at me with surprise.
"Vargus is still alive," he said simply.
"He will be caught soon. The police of the world are looking for him, if he is alive."
"I think it will be a long pursuit, Sir John. He has got off with the treasure, and I know one or two things about him which are not generally known. I do not think that Mr. Vargus will fall into the hands of the police."
"Then you …?"
"It is my work. I owe the spirit of my patron this man's blood, and I shall pay the debt. Were he to hide in the depths of the sea, sooner or later I shall find him. There is no power strong enough in life to keep us two apart."
He had dropped his voice. The words hissed like a knife upon a strop.
"I wish you good luck," I said at length, and was about to say more, to express my gratitude again, when he cut me short.