The Dreadnought of the Air

by Percy F. Westerman

Suddenly Dacres came to a dead stop. His quick eye detected a foreign movement. In the deep shadow cast by the lower horizontal plane a man in a diving-dress was at work. An air-tube and life-line showed that the villainous diver was equipped with an old-fashioned apparatus, but the question was, how far was he working from his air-supply? Was he alone?

Cautiously Dacres and his companion approached, but before they could get within striking-distance the bubble caused by the escaping air from the valves in the helmets gave the alarm. The fellow, dropping a large drill with which he had been studiously employed, slid off the flange on which he had been seated and gained the bed of the harbour.

Evidently his chief aim was flight, for he made his way off as fast as he could, his life-line and airtube trailing in an ever-increasing bight upon the sand. His cumbersome diving-dress so impeded his efforts that he was no match for his pursuers. Once he turned, and seeing that flight was impossible, he drew a huge knife with his left hand, while in his right he grasped a formidable-looking axe.

All prospect of taking the marauder by surprise being at an end, Dacres realized that both he and his companion were at a disadvantage. The only vulnerable portions of their antagonist to which the electric fork could be applied were his bare hands. To get in a knock-out blow would entail a great risk on the part of the attackers, for the fellow evidently meant to make good use of his weapons.

The sub did not fear the axe so much as he did the knife. Owing to the density of the water the force and velocity of the blow of the former would be considerably diminished, but a thrust of a sharp steel knife, meeting with very little resistance, was not to be regarded lightly.

Dacres stopped, and grasping the other's life-line cut it with his knife. He could, of course, have easily settled the submarine encounter by severing the rascal's airtube, but this he was loth to do. On the other hand how could the fellow be secured? If he surrendered, he could not be taken ashore, especially if there were, as was quite likely, a crowd of accomplices. The only solution, according to the sub's idea, was to compel the man to surrender, take him to the surface, and there disconnect his airtube.

Again the sub bent down, this time laying hold of the flexible armoured hose. He raised his knife threateningly, and indicated that his antagonist should either surrender or be deprived of his supply of air.

The fellow's reply was more than Dacres had bargained for. Either he mistook the invitation to give in, or else he meant to die gamely. Raising his axe he floundered towards the place where the sub stood grasping the airtube.

Dacres dropped the pipe like a piece of red-hot coal, and promptly retreated. Brave as he was he did not like the look of that long, keen knife glistening in the pale green light.

As the stranger advanced Callaghan made his way behind him, and poising his electric fork awaited an opportunity to seize the fellow by the arm and prick him on the back of his hand.