Chapter 3
Pilot-commander Pring was a tall, lean, lantern-jawed officer, who, though of English nationality, had spent most of his life in America. His face was still pale and grim with passion and mortification as I closed the door of my private room at the Air Police Station on him and Mr. Van Adams, the multi-millionaire, and Mr. Rickaby, second officer of the Albatros.
"Now, gentlemen, sit down, please," I said, "and I will ask Captain Pring a few questions. Sir Joshua Johnson has given me the main facts, but I want details. I won't detain you long, but I felt I ought to see you before anyone else."
"Oh, quite!" said Mr. Van Adams, a fleshy man, with a watchful eye and a jaw like a pike.
"This is an extraordinary affair, Captain Pring," I went on. "But, thank goodness you haven't lost your ship or any lives. I know what you feel about the Albatros."
"She's father, mother, brother, sister, hired girl and dog under the wagon to me!" said Pring, and then he blazed up into fury. I disentangle the few words I can. The majority were too overdressed for respectable society.
His Majesty's Mails! First time in history of flying, and it's happened to me! Cold-blooded piracy in the High Air! They'd have blown us to pieces as soon as look at us! When I get hold of that slime-lapping pariah, the pirate skipper, I won't leave him hide or hair to cover the wart he calls his heart!" and so on, for a good two minutes by the office chronometer.
I let him rip. It was the quickest way. It's dangerous to throttle down a man like Pring.
"The Captain is naturally, furious," I said.
"Oh, quite!" answered Mr. Van Adams.
Then we got to business. "The strange airship, Captain Pring. Let's begin with that. She approached you flying west, I understand?"
"She did, Sir John. Does that put you wise to anything?"
"It would appear that she was coming from Europe. But that was probably a trick. She might have been waiting about for hours."
"Curious thing, then, that all the ships in the air during the last thirty hours that were within fifteen hundred miles of the American and Canadian coast never saw anything of her. The Air Police of the U.S.A. have questioned every registered flying boat, Transatlantic and coastal trade, and not one of them sighted her. And, as you know, Sir John, from Cape Race to Charleston in summer weather the air's as thick with craft as gnats over a pond. Ain't that so, Mr. Van Adams, sir?"
"Quite, Captain Pring."
"I see your inference. Well, we'll leave that for a moment. I understand there were some peculiar features about this ship. What were they?"
"She's the fastest thing in the air, bar none. That I can swear to. A pilot of my experience can't well be deceived. That ship -- she's one of the very few I've seen with four propellers -- can do two hundred and forty miles an hour, without a following wind."
I whistled. Such speeds had been dreamed of but never known. "Nearly three times hurricane velocity!" I said.
"She'd race the dawn, Sir John, and that's my honest belief. There's never been such a flying boat before. And she don't carry a crew of more than twelve or fifteen men, in my opinion. The rest's all engines and petrol. She ain't more than twice the size of one of your patrol ships, all over."
This was talking! Each moment the affair grew more tense and interesting.
"That narrows our field of search no end," I remarked. "A flying boat like that can't be built anywhere in the world without leaving traces."
"Now, here's another point," said Captain Pring. "I'm going to startle you some more, Sir John, but as God sees me, I'm speaking truth. Here's Mr. Rickaby here as'll swear to all I say...."
He looked at the second officer, a good-looking, brown-faced lad. "It's all gospel, Sir John," he broke in.
"Of course," I said impatiently. "I know you couldn't be mistaken, Pring, and I won't insult you by thinking you'd deceive a Chief Commissioner over an affair of this importance. What's number two? Let's have it!"
"The man who runs her, or the man who built her, has solved another problem. He's produced silent engines at last. That ship's motors don't make more noise than a June bug! On a dark night she could pass within two hundred yards of you, and you'd never guess she was near."
From that moment I saw the thing in its true proportions. From that moment the air became unsafe. A man-eating tiger let loose upon a quiet countryside was not a tenth as dangerous.
The three other men saw that I understood.
"The scoundrels who came aboard the Albatros and looted the ship. Can you describe them?"
"They were masked so's their mothers wouldn't have known 'em. Armed to the teeth, too. We'd have downed them quick enough, even at the cost of a life or two, but there was the pirate with a four-inch gun trained on us. And he meant business. I did right, Sir John?"
The poor fellow's voice shook, and his face was corrugated with anxiety.
"I would have done exactly the same under the circumstances, Pring. Your first duty was to the women and children under your care. That view, I'm certain, will be accepted by the company and the Government, to say nothing of the public when it gets out. About these men, again, did you judge them to be American or foreigners?"
"They didn't speak much, except to give a few orders. But what they did say, I heard every word. I was with them all the time, and so was Mr. Rickaby here. I'll spring another surprise on you, Sir John, and then I've done. Those chaps were English, every one of them. And, what's more, they weren't any plug-ugly crowd neither. They were educated men of some social position. Club men at some time or other."
The second officer spoke. "Captain Pring is perfectly right, sir," he said modestly. "I'll swear that they'd been public school or 'Varsity men at some time or other."
"Where were you at school?" I asked quickly.
"Harrow, sir."
I nodded. Here was another astounding fact for consideration when I was alone.
"And then, after a time," Pring continued, "the Sant Iago tramp steamer came up from way down South and rescued us. After that we sighted the lights of Mr. Van Adams' air yacht, the May Flower, and in answer to our signal he came down and took me and Rickaby aboard."
"Quite," said the millionaire.
"Tonight, Captain Pring, I'll want a long talk with you. Now I must surrender you to Sir Joshua. For the present, I want you all three to give me your words of honour that you will tell no one anything about the appearance or speed of the pirate ship, that her engines were silent, or that you suspect the ruffians on her to be English. That is most important. In fact, I must make it an order, under the powers with which I am invested by the Secretary of State. As an order, it cannot apply to you, Mr. Van Adams, but you've been so kind and helpful hitherto that I feel sure you'll give me your promise. You must see how necessary it is."
"I'm on," he said.
The two pilots gave me their assurances, and we walked out of the office together. As we went along the terrace, Pring pointed down to the sea-drome where the millionaire's air yacht, a beautiful flying boat painted cream colour and black, was now resting at her moorings.
"The Atlantis starts tonight," he said significantly.
"She will be escorted by an armed patrol," I said, "until she meets one of the American Air Police airships in mid-ocean. Surely, you don't think there's any danger?"
To tell the truth, I had been so concentrated on the matter in hand that I had hardly given a thought to the outgoing airliner. Can you blame me? Anyway, duty came before any private considerations. Now, Pring's remark started a new set of thoughts. I looked at him with great anxiety. He did not know the whole of my reason, but he saw I was disturbed.
"No, Sir John," he answered, "I don't think the danger is worth the waggle of a mule's ear. It was only a passing remark. It stands to reason that Captain Kidd'll know that the police flying boats of two hemispheres are out looking for him in swarms by now. He'll figure that out, sure. If he was to start any of his stunts within the next few days, he'd have about as much ch
ance as a fat man in Fiji."
"That's what I thought."
"You may make your mind easy about the Atlantis, sir. Besides, as you say, she'll be escorted."
"Quite," I said involuntarily, and then we both laughed.
"Royal Hotel at ten-thirty," I said. "I'm staying there tonight."
I'll never forget that dinner with Connie. One of her greatest charms is her serene light-heartedness. It's not silliness or frivolity, don't think that, but the bloom on the fruit of a clear and happy nature whose conscience is at rest. My girl wasn't a fool. She was not ignorant of evil and the grey sides of life. But they left her untouched. Perhaps her very simplicity, the bright and stainless courage that she wore like a flag through life, had helped her to her great success. The British public might admire and enjoy the work of other artists, but they had taken little Connie Shepherd to their hearts.
She was bright and cheerful at our dinner, bubbling over with joy and fun. I did my best to respond, but it was rather difficult. There was a shadow on my mind, and it would not go away.
"Dearest old John!" she said once, "what is it? You're sad, inside of you, and you're pretending you're not!"
"Darling, in an hour or two you'll be gone. How can I be happy?"
She shook her head. "It's not that. You can't deceive me. I don't want to part, either, especially on this day of days. But we are both of us sensible, and we both know it's only for six weeks. You aren't in the least sentimental -- horrid word! -- nor am I. We go deeper than that."
"Well, then, to tell you the truth" -- and it was the truth -- "I'm a bit under the weather, and I can't quite say why. Perhaps it's reaction. But most probably, it's because I've been hearing some news, a matter in connection with my work which has agitated me. It's a problem of organization I must solve at once. Forgive me, sweetheart!"
"My dear, if you were not what you are, I would never have said 'yes.' No one has ever had such a position as you at your age, and I know how you've fought for it. I love you to be preoccupied about your work."
We finished dinner, however, in a happier mood, and then walked down to the sea-drome together. Connie's heavy luggage had gone to New York by steamer a week ago. The two small trunks she had brought with her from London were already on board the Atlantis, and her maid, Wilson, and my valet, Thumbwood, carried a couple of dressing bags.
It was a perfect evening. The sun, in going to rest, had hung the sky with banners, golden and glorious. The music of a band on the pier came softly up to the terrace of the Air Police Station. Young men and maidens in summer clothes strolled up and down over the greens, and a sickle-shaped new moon was rising over Devonport and the Hamoaze.
We went down in the electric car, and boarded the Atlantis from one of my launches. She was lit up in all her triple decks, as we climbed aboard by the saloon accommodation ladder, and a steward took Connie and her maid to her cabin, while I went to find my old friend, Captain Swainson.
The big, bearded man was sitting alone in his little room. There was a cup of black coffee by his side, and he was chewing an unlighted cigar. I saw at once that he had heard something.
"The very man!" he cried, jumping up from his basket chair and gripping me warmly by the hand. "I heard you were here, Sir John. Now what's all this? Sir Joshua's half out of his mind with worry, the offices are turned upside down, and Seth Pring -- confound him! -- is as close as an oyster!"
I found out that he knew just what Sir Joshua knew, and no more. He was indignant but quite cool, inclined to minimize the whole affair.
It seemed to me that to tell him the whole truth would serve no good purpose.
Pilot Superintendent Lashmar, whom I was going to send in command of the escort, would of course know everything.
"Well, I'm sending an escort with you halfway across," I said. "Lashmar will go -- you know him? -- in No. 1 Patrol flying boat. It's heavily armed, and he can shoot straighter than any man in the service. Got his experience in the Great War."
"Escort be blowed!" said hearty Captain Swainson. "I can't think what old Pring was about, to let himself be held up like that -- though, of course, it's just as you wish, Sir John."
"I don't suppose there's the least need of it, Swainson, but this business'll make a bit of a noise, and it looks well. Now I'll tell you a secret. I'm engaged to be married! Settled it coming down in the train this morning."
"The deuce you are! A thousand congratulations!"
"Thanks. What's more, the lady is aboard your ship, and flies to New York with you tonight. I want you to look after her for me."
"Can a duck swim? Well, this is news! Now I understand about that escort! But do introduce me, Sir John. It will be more than a pleasure to make the young lady comfortable."
We went off to seek Connie, and found her sitting behind one of the multiplex windscreens on the saloon deck, listening to the music of a piano and violin coming from the palm-court below.
I remember that the musicians were playing a selection of old English airs, sweet, plaintive music, and had just got to "The Last Rose of Summer."
I'm not emotional, but when I hear that tune today -- thank goodness, it isn't often -- I go out of the room.
At a quarter to nine I stood on the Hoe and watched the Atlantis start for America. Her navigation lights were all turned on; the innumerable port-holes of the huge fuselage made an amber necklace below the immense grey wings.
Then, from the towers on the sea-drome wall the flare-path shot out -- an avenue of white and steady light to guide the liner outwards. From the roof of the Air Police Station the compressed airhorn sent out three long, brazen calls. I had arranged it so. It was my Godspeed to Constance. Old Swainson answered on his Klaxon, and then the liner began to move slowly over the glittering water. Every second she increased her speed and lifted until she rose clear and slanted upwards. I had a vision of the mysterious silvery thing like a moth in the centre of the light beam, and then the flare path shifted out to sea, and rose till it was almost at a right angle with the water. The Atlantis was spiralling up to her ten-thousand-foot level, and in a moment or two she was nothing more than a speck.
Just as I lost sight of her, Patrol Ship No. 1 lifted and followed like a hawk after a heron, and then both ships were lost in the night.
The band on Plymouth Pier was still playing. The young men and maidens were still strolling round the lawns in the moonlight. The air was sweet and pure, full of laughter and the voices of girls. But I went back to the station with a heavy heart.
Two shorthand clerks and two telegraphists were waiting for me, and in the next hour I got through an infinity of work. There was a mass of telegrams to answer from America. They had been re-wired from Whitehall. I had to send out fifty or sixty signals to organize a complete patrol of the Atlantic air lanes. There was a long and confidential "wireless" to my assistant, Muir Lockhart, in London, and last, though by no means least, a condensed report of everything for the Home Secretary.
It was after ten when I finished, and I walked slowly back to the Royal, dead tired in mind and body. When I came to think of it, I realized that this had been one of the most eventful and exciting days of my life.
My valet Thumbwood -- you will hear a great deal about him before this narrative is over -- was waiting in the hall. He hurried me upstairs to where a tepid bath dashed with ammonia was waiting. Five minutes in this, a brisk rub down, a complete change into evening kit, a teacup of Bovril with a tablespoon of brandy and a pinch of celery salt in it -- what Thumbwood called my "bran-mash" -- and I was a new man again.
For a perfect valet, commend me a man who has had charge of racehorses in his time!
Then I went down to meet Captain Pring. I saw as I came into the public rooms of the hotel that the news of the piracy was out. Groups of people were standing together and talking earnestly. There was a buzz of suppressed emotion, natural anywhere, but particularly so in the principal airport of England.
And there were special editions
of the evening papers.
These -- I got one and looked -- had made the most of very scanty material. Nothing like the whole truth had leaked out, but there was, nevertheless, a sensation of the first magnitude. I was recognized and pointed to. A naval captain even spoke, and tried to pump me, though he soon found there was nothing doing. And when Captain Pring came into the lounge, some idiot started to cheer, and there was what the papers describe as a "scene."
Pring and I supped alone in a private room and had a long confidential talk, in the course of which I learnt many things. I am not going to give any details of that talk at present. It was momentous -- it is enough to say that now -- and has its proper place further on in the story.
The worthy Captain went at twelve, and I retired to bed. Thumbwood slept in a dressing room opening out of my bedroom. By his couch was a telephone which I arranged to be connected with the Air Police Station all night long. If any signal came, Thumbwood was to take it, and if important, wake me at once.
I am going to conclude this first portion of the narrative in as few lines as possible. Even today I shirk the writing of them.
I was awakened suddenly to find my room blazing with light; I afterwards found that the exact time was 2.30 a.m.
Thumbwood was standing by the bed. "Sir John," he said hoarsely, "there's a signal!"
One glance at the lad's face was enough. "Bad news?"
"Terrible news, Sir John!"
"Go on."
"Atlantis has been attacked two hundred miles west of Cork. Captain Swainson and four other men shot dead. Patrol Boat No. 1 disabled. Commander Lashmar and most of the crew killed. Signal got through by two survivors of crew, who managed to repair wireless."
Twice I swallowed with a dry mouth. Thumbwood knew what I wanted to ask.
"The young lady, Sir John, and her maid...."
"Dead, too?"
"No, Sir John. They alone were taken from among all the other passengers and put aboard the pirate ship, which then flew away with them."