The Air Pirate
down. The last scene of all, which I have called "The Epilogue," was not
written for a year after the earlier part of this story, which is now
published as a whole for the first time. Why this is so will become
clear as you read on, if you care to follow me to the very end.
But as I would not weary you, I will only indicate the happenings during
the rest of that day at Plymouth in the briefest possible fashion. I am
impatient to bring the story up to the hour of eleven-thirty of the same
night.
Immediately we were at rest on the placid waters of the sea-drome, Muir
Lockhart, with a strong force of Air Police, came aboard. Constance and
her maid were taken in a motor-boat to one of my patrol ships, which
started with them for the Hounslow Aerodrome within half an hour of our
arrival. We both of us thought it best that she should proceed to London
immediately, and going by air in a Government ship, she would escape
all annoyance and publicity.
All approach to the sea-drome was barred, and though the Hoe was crowded
with spectators, none of them could approach anywhere near to us. When I
had given Lockhart an outline of what had occurred, the two prisoners
were taken over the pool with a strong guard, and run up in the private
lift to the A.P. station, where there was a strong cell ready to receive
them. Then I was free to show my colleague, himself an expert airman,
the wonders of our capture.
I was doing this--we were in the pilot's cabin--when one of my men came
in and said that a motor-launch had come alongside from the private
air-yacht _May Flower_, which was moored not a hundred yards away. I had
noticed, when descending, that a magnificent yacht was close by, but I
did not identify it as Mr. Van Adams' ship. It appeared that he had been
sleeping aboard for the last two or three nights, since he had flown
down from London for the funeral, and was now alongside.
Van Adams, of course, was an exception to all ordinary rules, and in a
minute he was shaking hands in the private saloon and betraying a most
lively curiosity as to our adventures. I put Danjuro to satisfy him, and
when we had discussed a bottle of Helzephron's champagne, I left a
couple of trusted men to guard the ship, and went ashore. Danjuro
returned to the _May Flower_ with his patron.
The rest of the day was a whirl of business and excitement, though I
managed to get three hours much needed sleep in the afternoon.
Wires from the Government, from America, from Royalty, poured in, in a
never-ceasing stream. There were innumerable officials to see, the
correspondents of the great newspapers to satisfy with some sort of
story--a hundred things to do and arrange for. The whole of England was
in a ferment, and the stone building of the Air Police on the Hoe was,
for a few hours, the centre of it all. The air was thick with patrol
ships, warning off aviators of all kinds from approaching the Pirate
Ship, which lay at rest and harmless by the north wall of the pool.
Just before I retired to rest the news of what was called "The Battle of
the Moor" began to come through. The pirates, seeing their ship gone,
had rushed up again into the house, and had held it with the courage of
desperation. Only three of them had survived, and were now locked up in
the police-station at Penzance.
... It would take many pages to detail the events of that crowded day,
which did not end for me until ten o'clock at night, for I was forced to
attend a congratulatory dinner at the "Royal." Previous to that I had
found it necessary to summon Danjuro from the _May Flower_, where he had
remained quietly with Mr. Van Adams during the day. It was necessary
that I should be restored to something like my former self, and only
Danjuro could make me blond again! My moustache, alas! he could not
restore.
I had arranged to sleep at the station, where there were several
bedrooms, and about ten-thirty I passed the sentry and entered the
grounds.
Plymouth was now quiet. It was a hot, dark night, with neither moon nor
stars. During the day the weather had changed, and now thunder muttered
far away at sea and amethyst sheet-lightning flickered upon the horizon.
Now and again a drop of hot rain fell.
CHAPTER XIX
LAST FLIGHT OF THE PIRATE AIRSHIP
The station superintendent met me in the office, which was brilliantly
lit and cooled by an electric fan.
"I expect you're feeling pretty well done, Sir John," he said.
"I feel pretty tired, Johnson, I own."
"There's a big thunderstorm coming up, not a doubt of it. The air'll be
cooler afterwards. All the arrangements about the prisoners are made,
sir."
The staff had been in communication with London all day upon this
matter, but I had not heard the result. I inquired from the
superintendent now.
"Our two birds, Sir John, and the three they've got at Penzance are to
travel to London to-night. They'll be brought up at Bow Street for a
minute or two, and remanded for a week to suit your convenience. The
Home Office will communicate with you, sir."
"Very well. How are they going?"
"The night mail train leaves Penzance at twelve, and gets here at two.
The other three will be on board and well guarded. Our prisoners will
join the train at Mill Bay Station. I've detailed Prosser and Moore to
escort them."
"See that the men are well armed. How are the prisoners?"
"Very quiet, sir. They seem to realize that it's all up with them.
They've taken their food all right."
"They are both together?"
"Yes, Sir John. You see, we've only the one cell that is absolutely
safe. But that can't make any difference. A man looks in every
half-hour. They can't hear him coming, and he reports that they don't
even talk."
"They're not handcuffed?"
"No, I didn't think it necessary, sir. They will be, and chained
together, too, when they leave for the train. We searched them
thoroughly, and took everything they had on them away half an hour after
they were brought in. Would you like to see them, sir?"
"I don't think so, Johnson. I've been a good deal too much in their
society during the last day or two. I don't want to look at that Vargus
again until he's in the dock, and I'm giving evidence against him."
"He's a wicked-looking customer, if ever I saw one," said the
inspector, with a face of disgust. "Well, good-night, sir, and I hope
you'll sleep well. I've told the station attendant to have your bath
ready at eight. He'll call you then."
The good Johnson went away, and I was left alone. My head ached, and I
felt disinclined for sleep at once. I undressed, however, and sat in
pyjamas as I smoked a final pipe. There was whisky, soda and a bowl of
ice, and I took a peg. I felt singularly low and dispirited. It was, I
supposed, the inevitable reaction of the nerves after all I had endured,
combined with the heavy pressure of the atmosphere and the electric
tension of the storm. At any rate, I remember feeling--as everyone does
at times--that the greatest triumphs and successes were worth very
little, after all, when once they were achieved. There is bitterness at
the bottom of every cup--_surgit amari aliquid_--and life was a poor
thing at best. And I fell to reflecting on the evil and misery that can
be wrought by one man.
The gaunt spectre of Hawk Helzephron haunted my mind, and the long row
of dead men that must be laid to his account, the brave fellows of my
own service, the Transatlantic people--to say nothing of the black
scoundrels that he had made and tempted, who had been hurried into
eternity with their crimes unrepented....
It was a morbid train of thought, but I was worn out, and the dark hour
had its way with me, until I thought of Connie and her merciful
preservation from harm, my own rescue. Then, rather ashamed of myself, I
made an effort to banish these gloomy imaginings, said my prayers, and
got into bed.
All the same, as I fell asleep, the stammer of the approaching thunder
and the white glare of lightning, which now and then flashed into the
darkened room, seemed like the growling of those awful dogs and the
glare of the advancing airship in the cave....
I think now that I must have had some unconscious premonition of the
tragedy which was racing towards me all the time.
... I was awakened sharply and suddenly, at first I thought by a flash
of lightning. But it was not so. The electrics had been suddenly turned
on, and there were men in uniform round my bed. The wind had risen and
was whistling outside. A deluge of thunder rain was in progress, and
great sheets of water were flung against the window.
I saw Superintendent Johnson. His face was white as linen.
"What is it?" I shouted.
He shouted in answer, and I heard his voice above the tumult of the
storm.
"The prisoners, Sir John," he wailed. "They've got away. They picked
the lock of the cell somehow, got into the passage, and broke the bars
of the window at the end. We none of us heard a sound!"
I leapt out of bed and began to bellow orders for pursuit--until I saw
Johnson's terrified face again, and knew that I had not heard all.
"... They got down to the water somehow, sir. They must have climbed
down the lift rails. _And they swam to the ship...._"
"Good God! _What_ ship?"
"Their own ship, Sir John. Somehow or other they managed to get on
board; we've just heard...."
"_Where are they?_"
"They did for the two men on board, and must have managed to start the
engines--_the ship's gone_. The searchlights are all over the pool, and
there's no trace of her. They were seen, Sir John, I ..."
He broke off short, the words drying up in his mouth. All the other men
shrank together in a frightened group as Danjuro came slowly into the
room.
I have never seen a figure so awe-inspiring, or terrible.
In moments of supreme emotion a European grows chalk-white, an Asiatic
grey.
The Japanese was livid grey now, and his face seemed carved with
fantastic gashes--grey rubber slashed with a knife. He was like a man
who had slept a thousand years and wakened to find himself old, and in
hell.
He came slowly up to me, moving like a thing on wheels drawn by a cord,
and when he was close, he spoke.
I can never recall his voice without an almost physical state of fear.
Suppose that you could go with Dante to that gate over which is written,
"_Abandon hope all ye who enter here._" And suppose, as you stood there
and listened, you heard a well-known voice far down, saying, "I am
tormented in this flame...."
Well, Danjuro's voice was like that.
"During a lull in the storm," he said, as if repeating a lesson, "I went
up on the deck of the _May Flower_ for a breath of air. Mr. Van Adams
accompanied me. We were looking over the water to the Pirate Ship, when
I saw lights flashing up and down through the portholes of the fuselage.
It struck me as strange. We wondered what the two men in charge could be
doing. As we watched, we were just able to distinguish two men coming up
on deck. Then there came a vivid flash of lightning, and I saw
everything plainly. The two men were Vargus and Gascoigne, and they were
carrying the body of a man in uniform, which they lowered into the
water."
Inspector Johnson gave a quick gasp. Danjuro continued:
"Without a moment's delay I got a couple of pistols, and Mr. Van Adams
and I jumped into the electric launch, which was moored alongside the
_May Flower_, though on the other side to that which faced the Pirate.
There was no time to summon help. We shot out into the pool just as the
storm began again with thunder-claps and a deluge of water. We were
within a few yards of the ship and making ready to board her, when Mr.
Van Adams flashed a powerful electric torch, and I saw Vargus with a
knife in his hand hacking at the mooring ropes. At the same time I