“Well, Oliphant, I’m glad enough to have you with me. I hope we shall come through all right.”
While speaking, he had stopped the ascensional screws and set the horizontal going. A small aneroid hung just above his head, lit by a carefully screened electric lamp. The reading indicated that the airship had risen to a height of five hundred metres. Maintaining the ascent solely by the inclination of the planes, Tom brought the whole force of the engines to bear on the horizontal screws, and the machine glided onwards at a speed of some twenty miles an hour, gradually rising as she went. Then, at the altitude of a thousand metres, when Tom judged that he was high enough to clear the tops of the hills that fringed the coast, Oliphant reduced the angle of the planes so that it was just sufficient to maintain a constant height at the increased speed of twenty-five miles.
“By Jove, this is ripping!” cried Oliphant again.
It was a bright starlit night, without a breath of wind. At this altitude the air was crisp and keen, producing a sense of exhilaration in the occupants of the car. Even Abdul, who had quaked inwardly and clutched the rail when the machine rose to such a giddy height, had now lost his tremors, and looked around him with wonderment and delight. The ship was soaring over the land, which lay outstretched like a vast black floor three-quarters of a mile beneath. Behind, the lights of the yacht could be faintly distinguished; before, there was not a glimmer over the whole country. The airship crossed a peak or two, then sailed over a rolling plain; by and by more hills loomed black in front. The aneroid, an extremely delicate instrument, now indicated that the machine was slowly sinking. Oliphant again adjusted the planes; the airship passed clear of the hills, and Tom steered as directly as he could guess for the spot he had marked on his map.
When the voyage had lasted for about an hour the rising moon threw more light on the scene, lending a weird beauty to the variegated landscape—bare rugged hills alternating with wooded slopes and dark valleys. But it was impossible, at the height at which they were sailing, to distinguish any landmarks; Abdul knew the country thoroughly, but was quite at a loss in this unfamiliar situation. He had told Tom that the fastness where the diplomatist was probably held captive stood on the top of an extremely steep hill, and explained that the most convenient spot from which to approach it was a small tableland about a sixth of a day’s journey from it. This was Tom’s objective; but as it was impossible to make sure of reaching it unless Abdul could obtain some guidance from prominent natural features, Tom more than once allowed the airship to sink almost to the ground, so that the Moor might scan the country.
On one of these occasions, about four hours after they had left the yacht, Abdul said that he recognized a hill stream whose source was within a short distance of the sheikh’s stronghold. From the directions he was now able to give, Tom managed to steer fairly straight for the tableland, and after once more descending so that Abdul might assure himself that he had not been mistaken, he finally brought the airship to rest at the desired spot. It was past three o’clock in the morning; the sky was already lightening with what Abdul called subhi kázib—the false dawn which often in these latitudes illumines the sky an hour or so before the real dawn. The three adventurers were all very tired, and on Abdul explaining that the tableland was but rarely visited, and that so far as he knew there were no wild beasts in the neighbourhood, Tom thought that they might all safely take a few hours’ sleep before considering the next move. The tableland was not entirely flat; it had many depressions, and jagged rocks stood up on all sides around the comparatively clear space on which the airship rested. Only one hill, and that apparently four or five miles distant, stood higher, and even the hawk-like vision of the mountaineers was not likely to discover the airship from so remote a spot.
The real dawn—subhi sadik—was some little while past when the Moor awoke, first of the three. He had just completed his morning devotions and ablutions at a little spring when the others roused themselves. Among the contents of the car were a spirit lamp, a tin of condensed milk, and materials for making tea; and while they ate their breakfast Tom discussed with Oliphant the programme for the day.
“The first thing is to find out exactly where Ingleton is imprisoned,” said Tom, “and what chance there is of getting into communication with him. That’s a job for Abdul; obviously we can’t help him; we can’t do better than lie snug here while he goes and gets what information he can.”
“A pretty dangerous job for him if he’s caught, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s a good many years since he left these parts, and he must have altered. I doubt whether he’ll be recognized. Luckily the hills are covered with mist, too; if he starts soon he’ll be able to get a good way before he’s likely to run across any of his countrymen.”