With Airship and Submarine: A Tale of Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

Chapter Eight.

The Rescue.

It was a matter of but a few moments to raise the Flying Fish five thousand feet into the air, start her engines, and head her on her course for Odessa, which lies practically due south of Saint Petersburg. Then, there being no mountains in the way—nothing, in fact, that, at the height of five thousand feet, could possibly interfere with their flight—the little party retired to their respective cabins and turned in, leaving the great ship to take care of herself and pursue her way unwatched; Mildmay and the professor undertaking to rise betimes in the morning and call the other two early enough to assist in the capture—for that was what it amounted to—of the convict-ship.

Mildmay possessed the very useful faculty of being able to awake at any prearranged moment, and, in the exercise of this faculty, he rose from his cot as the first faint streaks of dawn filtered in through the port of his berth, and proceeded forthwith to the bathroom, growing conscious, as he went, of the fact that the temperature had become very much milder during the last few hours. This, however, was only what might be naturally expected, since the ship had been speeding to the southward all through the night at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles per hour, in addition to such further speed as she might have derived from the favourable gale that had been aiding her flight.

The rise of temperature, however, had not perceptibly communicated itself to the water of the bath, which the gallant captain found to be icy cold. There was, therefore, no temptation for him to linger, and a few brief minutes sufficed him to complete his ablutions and return to his cabin, rousing the professor as he went. Then, dressing with the expedition of a seaman, he wended his way to the pilot-house, where, some ten minutes later, he was joined by von Schalckenberg, who in his turn was quickly followed by George, bearing on a tray two cups of scalding hot coffee and a small plate of biscuits.

The light of the coming day had by this time so far increased that the occupants of the pilot-house were enabled to see somewhat of their surroundings. The first discovery made by them was that they had outrun the gale of the previous night, and were now sweeping through an atmosphere that, judging from the appearance of the few small shreds of cloud that floated about and above them, must be nearly or quite motionless. And the next was that, as a result of this change of weather, the Flying Fish was fully one hundred miles from the spot where, in accordance with their calculations of the previous night, she ought at that moment to have been. According to those calculations she ought then to have been clear of the land and well out over the Black Sea, whereas the land was still beneath the ship, although, so clear was the atmosphere, the gleam of sea could just be detected on the extreme verge of the southern horizon, some eighty-five miles ahead. But this, after all, was a matter of very trifling import; it would defer the capture of the Ludwig Gadd to the extent of about an hour only, which Mildmay and the professor agreed was “neither here nor there.” Meanwhile, there was just one trifling item of preparation to be attended to, and, having leisurely imbibed their morning coffee and munched a biscuit or two, they stopped the engines of the Flying Fish, and retired from the pilot-house to attend to it. Treading noiselessly in their india rubber-soled shoes, they descended to one of the storerooms, throwing open the door giving access to the deck on their way, and there loaded themselves with a number of queer-looking objects constructed of aethereum, with which they wended their way to the deck. Arrived here, they sought out a certain spot on the deck, about midway between the pilot-house and the fore end of the superstructure, and quite close to the port rail; and, having found it, they at once proceeded to remove three small aethereum discs from the deck, disclosing three sunk bolt-holes so arranged as to form the angles of an equilateral triangle measuring eighteen inches along each side. The top ends of the bolts in these holes revealed themselves about a quarter of an inch below the level of the deck, and were easily grasped by the fingers and drawn upward by about a couple of inches. Over these three bolts a base-piece was next carefully arranged, which done, the nuts were put on to the bolt-ends and screwed up tight by means of a spanner. Then, upon this base-piece was rapidly built up the component parts of what, upon completion, proved to be a Maxim gun, constructed entirely of aethereum, with an aethereum shield or turret, cylindrically shaped in such a manner as to protect completely the entire person of the gunner, the whole affair being so arranged that the gun could be trained in any direction by the inmate of the shield. The mounting of this gun and shield, and the placing in position of an entire case of cartridges in readiness for firing, occupied the two men but a bare quarter of an hour, at the expiration of which time they returned to the pilot-house, closed the door, and once more sent the engines ahead at full speed. Meanwhile the pause, that had been necessary to enable them to execute this task in comfort to themselves, had enabled them to determine the fact that the atmosphere was practically in a state of calm, the ship having revealed no perceptible drift in any direction, when once she had lost her “way” or momentum through the air after the stoppage of her engines.

The pair had scarcely settled themselves again comfortably in the pilot-house when the sun rose, and they found themselves sweeping at headlong speed over a vast plain intersected by a perfect network of streams and rivers, and dotted here and there with towns and villages, a few of which they were able to identify by means of a map which they opened and spread out upon the table before them. Minute by minute the sea, gleaming like a polished mirror in the light of the new-born day, spread itself ever more broadly before and to the left of them, and soon the indentation of Odessa Bay, with the town stretching along its southern margin, came into view. They now decided that the moment had arrived when the remaining male members of the party ought to be called. The professor accordingly retired to perform this service, and presently returned with the information that Sir Reginald and Colonel Lethbridge were already astir and taking their coffee in the dining-room. A few minutes later these two gentlemen made their appearance in the pilot-house with a cheery “Good morning” to Mildmay.

“The professor tells us that Odessa is in sight,” remarked Sir Reginald, peering ahead through one of the ports. “Is that the place, right ahead, on the far side of the bay, with the two lakes beyond it?”

“Yes,” answered Mildmay, “that is Odessa. But what you take to be the second lake—the more distant and larger sheet of water—is Dniester Bay, the estuary of the river Dniester; and if you will look away there into the far distance on our right, you will catch glimpses here and there of the stream winding through the landscape.”

“Yes, of course; I see it quite distinctly,” returned Sir Reginald; “and the broad sheet of water ahead and on our port bow, I take it, is the Black Sea. When do you expect to sight the convict-ship?”