CHAPTER XXX.
THE FALL OF NAOCUANHA.
"HEAVY firing, sir," remarked Commander Bourne to his superior officer.
"You're right," assented Captain and Acting Commodore Staggers. "It's about time we had a wireless report."
"Nothing has come through yet, sir," said Bourne.
Surrounded by a group of officers Captain Staggers stood upon the battlements of Fort Belgrano, on the landward side of the town of Zandovar. Away to the eastward, and only just discernible in the heated atmosphere, was the city of Naocuanha. Beyond the capital there was nothing to be seen, save at sunset when the peaks of the far-distant Sierras showed rosy-pink against the gloom of approaching night.
"The seaplanes ought to be returning," remarked Captain Staggers for the sixth time in half an hour. He was unable to conceal an anxiety for the naval aircraft that, two hours previously, had proceeded to the assistance of the handicapped "Meteor."
Drawn up just outside the fort was every available man who could be landed from the fleet: one thousand seamen and five hundred Marines, with the usual quota of light quick-firers and maxims. Why the men were there under arms none of them knew; they could only conjecture. Once again there was work to be done and they meant to do it right well, to wipe off the slur upon British prestige caused by the capture of Admiral Maynebrace and his staff.
"Speak to the 'Royal Oak,' Mr. Eccles, and ask if there's any news," continued the Captain.
Away doubled the lieutenant to the signalling station, only to return within five minutes with the disconcerting report that the battleship had not been able to "pick up" the "Meteor" by wireless.