Chapter Nine.
Colonel Sziszkinski joins the Party.
Meanwhile, during the progress of the foregoing scene, Colonel Sziszkinski, so full of amazement at what was transpiring that he found it difficult to persuade himself that he was not the victim of some fantastic hallucination, stood silent and watchful where he had first halted upon the deck of the Flying Fish. He had, of course, upon the instant of his arrival, recognised among the strangers who, for some mysterious reason, were thus interfering with his affairs, the somewhat remarkable personality of his old friend von Schalckenberg, and he was also aware, from the exclamation of the professor, that the latter had recognised him. But the colonel had recently, in the course of his prison experience, undergone a course of hard discipline that had speedily impressed upon him the wisdom of keeping his eyes wide open and his mouth close shut until he was absolutely sure of all the details of any situation in which he might find himself. Moreover, he had observed that, although von Schalckenberg had unquestionably recognised him, the professor had vouchsafed no sign indicative of the existence of such a sentiment as friendship for him. So, believing that there was doubtless good reason for this, he remained an impassive but none the less profoundly interested spectator of what was happening. But no sooner were Captain Popovski and his satellites fairly clear of the Flying Fish than von Schalckenberg darted forward and, seizing the colonel by both hands, while his eyes beamed ardent friendship through the lenses of his gold-rimmed spectacles, exclaimed—
“Ach! mein friend, now that that prying Russian has gone we may act and speak freely! Welcome, thrice welcome, my dear Boris; and all hearty congratulations on your escape from a fate that, to a high-spirited fellow like yourself, would have been far worse than death. But come and let me present you to my friends. This,”—indicating the baronet, who, seeing that he was no longer needed behind the Maxim, came sauntering up—“is Sir Reginald Elphinstone, an Englishman, and the owner of this good ship, the Flying Fish. You have to thank your daughter first, and Sir Reginald next, for your deliverance from the hold of yonder convict-ship. This is Colonel Lethbridge, late of the British Army; and this is Captain Mildmay, whose retirement from the British Navy has deprived his country of the services of one of her most brilliant sailors. This, gentlemen,” he continued, “is my very excellent friend, Colonel Sziszkinski, one of the Tsar’s most faithful and zealous officers, had his Majesty but known it!”
The party shook hands all round, and Sir Reginald, in a few well-chosen words, bade the newcomer heartily welcome to the unique shelter afforded by the Flying Fish for as long a time as he chose to avail himself of it. Then the baronet led the way below, saying to his guest—
“Let me conduct you down into the saloon. I rather fancy you will find a quite agreeable little surprise awaiting you there.”
The “agreeable little surprise”—in the shape of the colonel’s daughter—was indeed found, alone, awaiting the arrival of the newly released convict in the music-room. But we will imitate the delicacy of those on board the Flying Fish, and leave father and daughter to exchange greetings and confidences in private.
Meanwhile, Sir Reginald, having conducted his guest below, and witnessed the first rapture of the meeting between father and daughter, returned to the deck, where he found his three male companions standing together, discussing the events of the last few hours, and watching the receding convict-ship, which had resumed her voyage, and was by this time nearly a mile distant.
“Well, Professor,” he said, as he joined the group, “having happily accomplished the rescue of your friend, what is to be our next move?”
“I have been thinking of that,” answered von Schalckenberg; “and in view of the fact that this expedition has been undertaken for the benefit of your daughter’s health, I would suggest that we work our way slowly southward. We are now exactly on the meridian of 30 degrees East longitude, so our friend Mildmay informs me; and by following this meridian southward we shall cross Asia Minor, hitting the coast some fifty miles to the eastward of the Black Sea entrance to the Bosporus, shave past the head of the Gulf of Ismid—which is the easternmost extremity of the Sea of Marmora—and leave the coast again about halfway between the island of Rhodes and Gulf of Adalia. Then, crossing the easternmost extremity of the Mediterranean Sea, we shall strike the African coast at Alexandria—sighting the historic Bay of Aboukir—passing over Lake Mareotis, and plunging into the Libyan Desert. Then, if you please, we can turn off at this point and follow the course of the Nile, visiting the Pyramids, Memphis, Luxor, the ruins of ancient Thebes, and all the rest of the interesting places that are to be found on the borders of the grand old river. But I do not advise this latter course, for the Egypt of to-day simply swarms with tourists; and I imagine that you, Sir Reginald, are not anxious to attract that attention to this ship of yours which it would be practically impossible for you to avoid by following up the course of the Nile.”
“You are quite right, Professor. We must avoid attention—that is to say, the attention of civilised folk—as carefully as possible,” answered Sir Reginald. “Besides, I think we have all done Egypt pretty thoroughly already. Therefore I am in favour of continuing due south into the very heart of Africa. We can penetrate into solitudes that ordinary travellers dare not attempt to reach, and I shall be rather surprised if we do not find ourselves amply rewarded by some very interesting discoveries, as was the case during our last cruise. Furthermore, there are those unicorns to be hunted for afresh. I shall never be entirely happy until I have secured a perfect specimen or two of those beautiful creatures.”
“Ach, doze unicorns!” exclaimed von Schalckenberg, throwing out his hands excitedly; “the very mention of them sets me longing to be after them again. Yes—yes, we certainly must not return home until we have obtained a few specimens of so wonderful an animal. Fortunately, the record of our previous voyage enables us to know exactly where to search for them.”
“Quite so,” assented Sir Reginald. “I think, however, Professor, that before we proceed further we ought to ascertain from your friend, Colonel Sziszkinski, what are his views respecting the future of himself and his daughter. Of course, I hope it is scarcely necessary for me to say that, as friends of yours, they are most heartily welcome to the hospitality of the Flying Fish for as long a time as they may care to accept it; but it is just possible that the colonel may have some plan that he would wish to put into operation without delay. In that case it appears to me that the greatest kindness on our part would be to convey him forthwith to the scene of his new sphere of action.”
“Ach! yes, that is true,” agreed von Schalckenberg. “We might discuss the matter with Sziszkinski at the breakfast-table—the mention of which reminds me that I am hungry, while my watch,”—withdrawing the article mentioned from his pocket and glancing at it—“tells me that breakfast ought now to be ready.”
He glanced round the horizon, which was bare save for the rapidly receding shape of the convict-ship, and continued—
“I see no reason why, with the approval of Captain Mildmay as our navigator, we should not remain where we are until after breakfast, by which time yonder ship will be out of sight, and there will be no one to note our next movement. There is no particular object in moving from here, I think, until our point of immediate destination is fixed. What say you, Mildmay?”
“We can remain here perfectly well,” agreed Mildmay. “As you say, there is no object in moving until we shall have decided in what direction the movement is to be made, unless, indeed, Sir Reginald has an amendment to make to your proposition.”
“Not I,” asserted the baronet. “I quite agree with the professor. Ah, thank goodness, there is the breakfast bell! This early morning air is a most wonderful sharpener of the appetite. Come, gentlemen, let us go below; the Flying Fish is quite capable of taking care of herself for the next hour or so.”
As the four men filed into the dining-saloon from the vestibule, they were confronted by Lady Elphinstone and her little daughter, Ida, who were entering the apartment at its other end, from the music-saloon, where they had already made the acquaintance of Colonel Sziszkinski, who, with his daughter, followed them a moment later.
The colonel—who since we saw him last, on the deck of the Flying Fish, had exchanged his exceedingly ugly convict garb for a suit of clothes sent to his cabin by Colonel Lethbridge, who was about the same height and build as the Russian—was a decidedly good-looking man, still in the very prime of life, tall and well set up, as a soldier should be, with ruddy-flaxen hair, moustache, and beard, and a pair of deep blue eyes that looked one straight and honestly in the face, and could, upon occasion, flash very lightnings of righteous indignation. The professor could remember the time when it had been an easy matter to bring a twinkle of rich humour into those same eyes; but, for the present, at all events, all sense of humour had disappeared in face of the constant humiliation and petty tyranny to which he had been subjected ever since his arrest. For the rest, he was an educated, polished, accomplished gentleman, with the absolutely perfect manner that seems to come quite naturally to so many of his countrymen of his own class.
Breakfast, as may be supposed, was an exceptionally cheerful meal that morning, for Feodorovna Sziszkinski was exuberantly happy in the fact of her father’s marvellous rescue from a fate too dreadful for calm contemplation; the colonel was happier still, if that were possible, for the same reason, and because his release had come to him absolutely without a second’s warning or preparation; and the others were in buoyant spirits at the knowledge that they had been able to make two very worthy people happy, and that, too, with no trouble beyond what had brought to them a little pleasant and exhilarating excitement. The conversation consisted, for the most part, in a recital by the colonel, at von Schalckenberg’s request, of his experiences while in prison, and although he touched lightly upon some, and glossed over others, he still told enough to arouse the deep indignation of his hearers and cause them to rejoice further at having been the means of delivering him from a condition of such acute and continuous misery.
At the conclusion of the meal the entire party adjourned to the deck to take a look round and enjoy the deliciously soft and balmy air. There was nothing in sight, and therefore no particular reason why the Flying Fish should make an immediate move. Sir Reginald, therefore, deftly so arranged matters that, while Mildmay undertook to entertain Mlle. Sziszkinski, and Lethbridge alternately chatted with Lady Olivia and played with Ida, he got the lately liberated Russian and von Schalckenberg to join him in a promenade at the other end of the deck from that occupied by the rest of the party. Colonel Sziszkinski, who had, of course, already learned from his daughter the leading particulars of the circumstances that had led up to his rescue, eagerly seized this opportunity to reiterate to the baronet his most heartfelt thanks for his astonishing and most unexpected deliverance, and this afforded Sir Reginald the opening for which he was looking.
“My dear Colonel,” he said, “I beg that you will not say another word about it, for I assure you that it afforded us unmixed pleasure to circumvent the plans of that scoundrel Vasilovich and deliver you from his toils. Had you been a total stranger to us all, it would still have been a pleasant task to have done what we have done, in the somewhat unlikely event of the facts of the case becoming known to us. But you happen to be a friend of our dear professor, here, and to be the friend of one is to be the friend of all of us; and, that being the case, we all felt bound to help you, even before we had heard the particulars of your story from your charming daughter. Now it happened that, just before breakfast, while you were below, we four adventurers were discussing the question of the direction in which we should next head the Flying Fish—for I must explain to you that, although we have a programme of a sort, it is a very elastic one, and subject to alteration at short notice for any good and sufficient reason,—and we eventually decided to settle nothing until we had consulted you. It may be that, having recovered your freedom, there are certain things that you would desire to do; and if so, it will afford us the greatest possible pleasure to assist you to the utmost of our ability. If, on the other hand, however, you have as yet no definite plans, let me now say that it will give us all the greatest possible satisfaction if you and your daughter will afford us the pleasure of your society during our cruise, or for so much of it as may be agreeable to you.”
“Sir Reginald,” exclaimed Sziszkinski, with some emotion, as he grasped the baronet’s extended hand, “I am completely at a loss for words in which to express adequately the gratitude I feel for your most kindly and generous offer. You will, perhaps, the better be able to appreciate the depth of my feeling when I explain to you that, through the machinations of that villain Vasilovich, my daughter and I are, save for your kindly hospitality, homeless, and—with the exception of any money or jewellery that my daughter may possibly happen to have upon her person—penniless. Furthermore, apart from yourselves, we have not a friend on the face of the earth to whom we can turn for help or shelter—or rather, who would dare to risk the anger of the Tsar by affording us either? Nor have I, at this moment, any plans; for I know only too well that any attempt to secure the reversal of my sentence and the return of my confiscated property would be worse than useless, since it would not only end in failure, but also put me for the second time in the power of the Tsar. I therefore accept your most kind invitation to join your party as frankly as it was offered, and with my most hearty thanks. Doubtless, with the advantage of a few days’ calm reflection, I shall be able to evolve some scheme for our future.”
“No doubt,” assented Sir Reginald. “But please do not be in any hurry about it, for the longer you can find it convenient to remain with us, the better shall we all be pleased. And if you happen to be anything of a sportsman, I think we may venture to promise you some sport quite worth having, and of a rather unique kind? Eh, Professor?”
“Aha,” agreed the professor, “yes, that is so; those unicorns, for instance.” And forthwith von Schalckenberg plunged animatedly into a description of the wonderful animals, followed by a recital of the exciting circumstances under which they had first been seen.
Shortly after this the three men rejoined the rest of the party at the other end of the deck, Sir Reginald remarking—
“Good friends all, I have a little bit of pleasant news for you. You will be glad to learn that von Schalckenberg and I have, between us, succeeded in inducing Colonel Sziszkinski to give us the pleasure of his own and his daughter’s company during a considerable portion, if not the whole, of our cruise. There is, therefore, no need for any alteration of our arrangements, and we may proceed to carry out our original plan of travelling slowly southwards. The question now is whether we shall continue our journey on the surface of the sea, or take to the air. What say the ladies?”
Travelling upon the surface of the sea, it appeared, had no terrors for the ladies; mal de mer never troubled either of them; they were in no hurry; they found the present conditions exceedingly pleasant, but had no doubt that it would be equally pleasant to be flying through the air; and so on, and so on; in short, they were in that pliant state of mind that predisposed them to assent cordially to any proposal. It was therefore agreed to potter along on a due southerly course all day, at a speed of about ten knots, giving a wide berth to any craft that they might encounter on the way, and take to the air after nightfall, availing themselves of the hours of darkness to accomplish their journey across Asia Minor. This arrangement was carried out in its entirety, the party spending a very enjoyable day on deck, although there was little or nothing to be seen, only two craft—both of them steamers—being sighted during the day. They were steering north, and were hull-down, so that they probably failed to notice the presence of the Flying Fish. The Maxim gun, being no longer needed, was dismounted again and stowed away, in accordance with a recognised rule that the ship was always to be kept in condition for either mounting into the air, or descending beneath the surface of the sea, at a moment’s notice.
Nightfall found the voyagers about sixty miles distant from the southern shore of the Black Sea, at which point they took to the air, rising to a height of ten thousand feet, and, with a light air of wind from the southward against them, increasing their speed to thirty-five knots.
Asia Minor is distinctly a hilly country, but there are no very lofty elevations under the meridian of the thirtieth degree of east longitude—along which the Flying Fish was then running—nor, indeed, in its immediate vicinity, until the southern coast is approached, where, at a distance of about forty miles from the point at which the travellers would again pass out over the water, and some twenty-five miles to the left of their proper course, the Bei Dagh peak rises to a height of ten thousand four hundred feet, while, a few miles farther on, and quite near to their track, the highest peak of the Susuz Dagh range rises still higher by one hundred and fifty feet. The Flying Fish, therefore, skimming along at a height of ten thousand feet only, was liable to dash into either of these peaks if it so happened that she chanced to encounter an air current to deflect her to the eastward of her proper course. This, however, was exceedingly unlikely, for at the height of ten thousand feet above the earth she was in what is known as “the calm belt” of the atmosphere, where the air-currents—when such exist at all—are very sluggish. The danger of collision with either of the peaks above-mentioned was therefore so remote as to be hardly worth consideration, and in any case it could not arise until the early hours of the following morning. It was therefore decided that there was no need for the maintenance of an all-night watch in the pilot-house, Mildmay undertaking to be up in good time to obviate any possibility of danger.
The first flash of sunrise next morning found the Flying Fish just passing over the border between land and sea on the southern coast of Asia Minor, with the Casteloriza Islands practically beneath her, the Susuz range safely astern, the island of Rhodes, like a pink cloud, broad abeam on the western horizon, and a soft, delicate purple outline broad on the port bow, which Mildmay informed them all was the upper portion of Mount Troados, the highest peak of the mountain range which forms, as it were, the backbone of the island of Cyprus. The ship was still maintaining her height of ten thousand feet above the sea-level, and her speed of thirty-five knots through the air, both of which circumstances rendered it necessary for those on board her to make such observations as they desired from the interior of the ship, the outside air being too rarefied and keen, and the ship’s speed through it too rapid for exposure to it to be at all agreeable. It was therefore arranged that, as their passage across the Mediterranean was likely to prove uninteresting, and there would therefore be no inducement for any of them to go out on deck, that passage should be accomplished at full speed. The voyagers would then have time to dress and take breakfast at leisure, and be ready to go out on deck to witness their arrival on the African coast.
Accordingly, at a quarter to ten o’clock, ship’s time, the Flying Fish having been lowered to a distance of three thousand feet above sea-level, and her speed reduced to about ten knots, the pilot-house door was thrown open, and everybody passed out on deck, where they found the air dry and pleasantly bracing, with a temperature of about fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit. They were still over the sea, but the African coast was in plain view some five miles ahead, with the towers and minarets of the city of Alexandria broad on their starboard bow, showing quite distinctly in the lenses of their telescopes; while, at about the same distance, on their port beam, Aboukir castle could be distinguished, with the historic Bay of Aboukir beyond it. Half an hour later the great African continent was beneath them, and they were looking down upon the ruins of Nicopolisisoi, the line of railway from Alexandria to Rosetta, and the island-dotted Lake Mareotis. Thenceforward, for the rest of the day there was but little of interest to attract the attention of the travellers, apart from the fact that during the afternoon they caught a distant glimpse of the Pyramids, with Cairo beyond, on the far eastern horizon. Finally, at the end of a very pleasant day’s progress across the desert, accomplished at a low rate of speed on Ida’s account, in order that she might not be subjected to a too rapid change of temperature in their southward progress, after enjoying the spectacle of a superb desert sunset, they came to earth for the night some twenty-five miles west of Lake Birket el Keroon.
Progressing thus quietly, at the rate of about a hundred miles per day, and coming to earth at sunset every evening, the fifth day of their journey over Africa terminated in the immediate neighbourhood of a patch of rocky outcrop, some ten miles long by about three miles in width. Hitherto the travellers had observed no signs of wild life during their exceedingly leisurely progress southward; but the sight of a water-hole or two, and a few patches of scanty herbage dotted here and there among the rocks, led them to hope that here they might at last possibly get the chance of a shot at game of some sort; and their hope became a practical certainty when, as the men of the party were promenading the deck after dinner, and enjoying their tobacco, a hoarse, coughing roar reached their ears from the direction of the rocks. The roar was answered at intervals from other points, and the spirits of the party rose high in anticipation of sport for the morrow, for the roars were at once identified as those of lions, and it was forthwith arranged that at least a portion of the next day should be devoted to hunting the brutes.