"SEND him on board, by all means," said the Captain of the "Meteor," after the rousing cheer from her crew that greeted the announcement had died away. "We'll lower a rope and whip him on board in a jiffey. You might then hold your position for ten hours more. I don't suppose the Valderians will risk another assault during that interval. We are about to take Admiral Maynebrace and his staff back to his flagship. Zaypuru will go too. He will be a strong argument in favour of the Valderians asking for terms."
"I doubt it, sir," replied Dacres grimly. "Those fellows in Fort Volador ignored his request to cease firing."
"We'll see," rejoined Vaughan Whittinghame.
"Hulloa, there, Gerald, old boy! How goes it?"
This was the Captain of the "Meteor's" greeting to his brother, who for months past had been in danger of being put to death by an unscrupulous Dictator.
"See you later," was Gerald's equally unconcerned reply, although at heart the brothers were longing to shake each other by the hand. "We'll rout out old Zaypuru. He's buried himself under a regular mountain of bedding."
Still in paroxysms of terror the President of Valderia was removed from his place of concealment, while General Galento, in almost an equal state of fear, was allowed to remain in his uncomfortable position.
At the sight of the "Meteor," anchored barely fifty feet above the shattered walls of the Cavarale, with a rope dangling from one of the entry ports, Zaypuru fell on his knees, begging for mercy. The noosed rope had a terrible significance.
"We do not ill-treat our prisoners of war, señor," said Gerald Whittinghame. "Circumstances necessitate your removal from this dangerous locality to a safer sphere."
But before the President could be ignominiously seated in the bight of the rope a warning shout came from Setchell, who was on duty in the after-section.