“Don’t think so. You see, the yacht, when we left her, was moored pretty close inshore, and, unless she runs out a good way, the cliffs will intercept the view. By Jove! we haven’t come far wrong, though. You see those two islands? I noticed them from the deck. They’re a few miles south of where we lay to. Here goes the last of the fuel, Oliphant; we can’t keep up more than five minutes. The only thing to be done is to let her down at a suitable spot, and then gain the shore on foot, and attract the attention of some one on board. No doubt they’re keeping a pretty keen lookout.”
They were now passing over a considerable stretch of wooded country. But as Tom was looking about for a place convenient for landing, he saw to his consternation that they were within sight of a village of some size. The airship was no more than six hundred feet from the ground: Tom had not dared to keep it at any greater altitude, and he could scarcely hope that it had escaped observation. To descend at once was absolutely imperative: yet a descent in full sight of the village would certainly bring unwelcome and hostile visitors. In order to stave off, even for a time, the inevitable, he selected a spot that seemed to be about a couple of miles from the village—a large clearing in the midst of the wood, about halfway up a gently rising hill. There he dropped gently to earth.
The airship had scarcely come to rest before he saw, from the village below, a party of horsemen issuing at full speed from the gate. Tom counted more than a dozen men, and within a minute these were followed by another dozen.
“We’re in for it now,” he said. “They’ll be on us in a few minutes.”
“We can’t fight ’em with only one revolver and a carbine,” said Oliphant ruefully. “They’ll collar us and hold us to ransom—perhaps we’ll all find ourselves before long in the kasbah of Ain Afroo.”
“May I make a suggestion?” said Sir Mark Ingleton. “The airship has failed us; we are, it appears, about to be surrounded by horsemen who are doubtless well armed; flight is therefore impossible. It is equally impossible, as Mr. Oliphant says, to fight. Before now, in similar circumstances, diplomacy has been of some avail; and it is but right that I, in whose behalf you gentlemen have been brought to your present plight, should exercise my poor abilities in disentangling the knot.”
“What do you propose, sir?” asked Tom, inwardly remarking that diplomacy seemed to make a man tolerably long-winded.
“It is that Mr. Oliphant and myself should go forth to meet these children of nature, waving a white handkerchief as if to welcome them. I will explain to them, in terms they will comprehend, and with a sufficient regard for the truth, what our situation is. They will doubtless convey us to their village, whether they believe me or not. In the meantime you, Mr. Dorrell, will have hidden yourself in a tree—no difficult feat to a man of your years; and when you see a fitting opportunity, you will steal your way to the shore, rejoin your friends on the yacht, and take such steps as may suggest themselves in consultation with them to effect our release.”
“A capital idea!” said Tom.
“But can we do it? Can you speak to the Moors in their own tongue?” asked Oliphant.