Chapter XXII: Dacres Reminds the Admiral

"STEADY, sir," remonstrated Dacres, addressing the Admiral and at the same time turning his head away as if consulting with his colleague. "This won't do; you'll spoil the whole show."

"Surely, Mr. Dacres, you haven't signed on with these----"

Admiral Maynebrace's remarks were cut short by the soldier bringing the butt of his rifle down upon the stone floor with a resounding clang and causing the astonished old officer to skip more agilely than he had done for years past.

"That's excellent," exclaimed Henri addressing the sentry in Spanish. "Keep the rascally prisoner in his place. We do not want to be hindered in our work."

"Sit down, sir, and pray be calm," continued Dacres, still talking as if he were referring to the task of measuring the walls. "Don't pay any outward attention and listen. (Twenty-five centimetres from that cornice, Henri: have you got that down?) We hope to bring the airship 'Meteor' to your rescue in a few days, sir, so be prepared. Turn in all standing, if you can, for we may have to hurry you up. (Do you think that will be far enough from the wall for the position of the switch, Henri? Good!) I can't expect you to answer any questions, sir. It isn't pleasant to be prodded on the toes by the butt-end of a rifle. Yes, sir, I am once more impersonating a Frenchman. Let us hope with more success than on the last occasion. Then I was literally slung out of the Service; now, by a similar means, I hope to get you slung out of here. (You think so, Henri? Suppose we carry the wiring down in this direction?)"

Dacres paused in his monologue, partly to allay any signs of curiosity on the part of the soldier and partly to enjoy his little joke with his one time superior officer. It wasn't every day in the week that an ex-sub-lieutenant could talk like a Dutch uncle to an admiral on the Active List. The idea of heaping coals of fire on Maynebrace's head commended itself to the pseudo-Frenchman, and he made good use of the opportunity.

"I am indeed sorry that you cannot express in words your gratitude for what we are doing for you, sir," he continued. "I know the feeling under which one labours when a man has to listen to a sermon without being able to put his spoke in the wheel (unwind the tape a little, please, Henri. _Merci, bien_). However, we will not dwell on that point. We hope at about six bells in the middle watch on the first convenient night to pay a surprise visit to the Cavarale. We may have to use explosives, so, sir, pray do not be unduly alarmed. (That is right, Henri, six metres will be quite sufficient.)"

Dacres methodically paced the cell, motioning the Valderian sentry to stand aside so as not to impede his work. The fellow, impressed by the zeal of the "electrician," stepped back without a murmur or gesture of remonstrance.

"If in the meantime you can get into communication with the rest of your staff, sir," continued Dacres, "perhaps you will mention what I have told you in case we have to pack up before our professional work is completed. That being so, Messieurs Henri de la Fosse and Jean le Plaisant--you may have heard that name before--must bid you their adieux."

Admiral Maynebrace stood his unaccustomed gruelling like a man. He knew quite well what Dacres was driving at. He was generous enough to admit that his former subordinate was to a certain extent justified in "pulling his leg." Moreover, he admired the cool audacity of the ex-naval officer in risking his life by entering the Cavarale prison.

"Hang it all!" he soliloquized. "I was much too hard on the young rascal. We all make mistakes. It was a mistake on my part that landed me in this hole. The Service lost a promising officer when Dacres sent in his papers. If ever I get clear of Naocuanha I'll do my very best to make things right for him."

With this praiseworthy resolution Rear-Admiral Maynebrace sank back in his chair to endure the dreadful monotony of his cell, for the only diversion he had was to make a systematic onslaught upon the swarm of insects that pestered him with their lively attentions.

While the Valderian soldier was securing the door of the Admiral's cell Dacres took particular notice of the lock. It was not morticed into the woodwork but simply screwed on from the outside. A fairly heavy hammer and a cold chisel would, he reflected, soon make short work of the lock on the door of No. 19, for that was the official designation of Rear-Admiral Maynebrace's substitute for the cabin of H.M.S. "Repulse."

The next cell was empty, but prudence compelled the two "electrical engineers" to spend a few minutes in taking bogus measurements. The adjoining one was occupied by a bearded man whom Dacres rightly surmised to be Gerald Whittinghame. There was a strong facial and bodily resemblance between him and the Captain of the "Meteor."

Still pursuing his quasi-professional tactics Dacres explained who and what his visitors really were, and at the same time cautioning the prisoner to act with discretion and not to speak a word in reply. Acting implicitly on these instructions Gerald Whittinghame assumed a despondent air, burying his hand on his arm as if completely indifferent to the presence of the three men.

But, presently, in the lull in his monologue Dacres' quick ear detected a systematic tapping made by the prisoner's fingers upon the deal table. He was replying in Morse.

"Carry on, I understand," said Dacres who, rule in hand, was fumbling on his knees in one corner of the cell, while Henri was taking down the measurements in his notebook.

"Tell Vaughan to attempt rescue before Friday," rapped out the message. "Zaypuru is coming here. Wants me to be a traitor to my country, or----"

The message broke off abruptly. Of the ominous nature of the incompleted part there could be no doubt.

"I say, Henri," said Dacres. "There's precious little time to be lost. I vote we make some excuse to leave Naocuanha to-night. Cut and run for it, if necessary."

"We will try," agreed young de la Fosse. "I understand."

"We'll do our best," said Dacres for Gerald Whittinghame's information. "So stand by, say, on Thursday night, if it can possibly be managed."

When the second day's work was accomplished the two "electricians" left the Cavarale, and followed by their Indian servants set their faces towards Naocuanha.

"We must clear out," said Dacres decisively.

"How?" asked Henri. "To go before we have finished there will arouse suspicions. We shall be seen when we enter the train."

"There are more ways than one of boarding a train."

"But the peons--the Indian servants?"

Dacres whistled.

"We mustn't leave them in the lurch, by Jove!" he said. "If it comes to leaving our hotel unpaid I think the exigencies of the business will be sufficient excuse; but I don't relish the idea of those fellows left to the mercies of Zaypuru and company."

"It is not that," replied de la Fosse. "They would come to no harm. They would as easily serve one master as another; but they would betray my father."

"If that is the only objection I don't see that that matters in the slightest," observed Dacres. "After this it will not be safe for your father or any of your family to remain in Valderia while Zaypuru is in power. Whittinghame will see you all safely through and send you back to France with a guarantee of sufficient money to keep you in comfort for the rest of your days."

"Very good: I am content," replied the young Frenchman simply.

"Then send the Indians on to the town," continued Dacres. "We'll take a stroll. I've a wish to see what the approaches to Naocuanha are like on the eastern side."

"Not in that direction," expostulated his companion. "It is towards Fort Volador, and if we go towards it we shall probably be arrested as spies."

"Very well, we'll bear away to the right," said Dacres reassuringly. "It doesn't so very much matter."

Henri dismissed the Indians and proceeded with the Englishman in the direction the latter had indicated. Young de la Fosse did not at all relish the new phase of the adventure. To run the risk of being captured he was willing to enter the Cavarale, but outside the prison a bid for freedom seemed fraught with more peril than he had bargained for.

Less than half a mile from the road to the prison ran the Naocuanha and La Paz railway, the course diverging slightly from that of the highway. Although the country around the capital was generally level at this spot, there was a slight valley, through which the Rio del Sol made its way to join the waters of the Pacific.

The railway, consisting of a single track, crossed the river by means of a steel girder bridge, while on the Naocuanha side of the valley was a siding.

As Dacres and his companions approached the bridge a goods train rumbled out of the city, panted heavily up the slight incline, and came to a stand-still on the siding. There were two locomotives attached to the train, one at either end, but upon pulling up there, no attempt was made to detach one of the engines.

"Look here," said Dacres. "We'll nick that rear-engine."

"What do you mean?" asked Henri dubiously. "What do you mean by nick?"

"Take possession of it. We have our revolvers. We'll terrify the driver and the fireman and make them disconnect the engine and push off towards La Paz."

"But the train from La Paz will be on its way," objected de la Fosse.

"I know; but we can wait till that goes by and then have a shot at it. We'll do it all right, never fear."

There was something so utterly confident in Dacres' tone that the young Frenchman's objections vanished.

"Very good," he replied. "I am ready."

As the two adventurers drew nearer the nature of the goods train became apparent. The twenty odd trucks were loaded with blasting powder, and were escorted by a dozen armed men.

It occurred to Dacres that it was rather an unusual thing to be taking explosives away from the seat of hostilities, until he realized that in anticipation of a siege of the capital Zaypuru thought it would be wiser and safer to send the blasting powder out of the city. It was a case of straws showing which way the wind blew. The president was beginning to fear for the safety of Naocuanha.

Henri's face lengthened when he saw the armed party, but having once signified his intention of going through the business, the plucky little Frenchman was not one to back out.

The display of force was more than Dacres bargained for, but knowing the temperament of the Valderians he felt convinced that on the sudden approach of two determined men the dozen irregulars would in all probability bolt like frightened hares.

However, he felt mightily relieved when the escort clambered down from the train and made their way down to the brink of the river, where, stripping off their raw hide shoes and canvas gaiters they paddled about in the water.

"Don't hurry, My festive friends!" exclaimed Dacres. "Take your time, and you'll do us a favour."

It was certainly a daring move on Dacres' part, for the plain was almost without cover, and the two men were in full view of anyone on Fort Volador or Fort Banquo who happened to be using a telescope or binoculars.

Nor was it advisable to attempt to take cover. The only feasible plan was to saunter towards the train and make a sudden rush at the last twenty yards.

Presently a dull rumble announced the approach of the La Paz and Naocuanha "express."

Dacres was half afraid that the escort hearing the noise of the on-coming train would hasten back to their charge, but fortunately the South American habit of procrastination was as deeply rooted in these Valderian irregulars as it could possibly be. An hour or two made very little difference to them: "to-morrow" was their creed.

With a rattle and a roar the train crossed the bridge, passed the siding and began to slow down as it approached the terminus of Naocuanha.

The time for action had arrived.

"Take it easily," cautioned Dacres. "Keep your hands away from your pockets till we make a dash for it."

Calmly lighting cigarettes the Englishman and his companion ambled towards the engine at the rear of the goods train. The driver was leaning out of his hooded cab, with the inevitable cigar in his mouth. The fireman had descended and was leisurely awaiting the approach of the two strangers.

His apathy quickly changed to an attitude of consternation as he found himself looking down the muzzle of Henri's revolver. His knees shook and almost automatically he raised both arms to their fullest extent over his head.

With a quick, deft motion de la Fosse plucked the revolver from the fireman's holster and threw it far into the thick grass, and, still keeping the man well covered, sternly ordered him to uncouple the engine.

Meanwhile, the driver made an attempt to draw a pistol, but Dacres was too quick for him. There was an ominous glitter in the Englishman's eye that told the Valderian engineer the uselessness of offering resistance. The next moment Dacres swung himself into the cab and clapped the muzzle of his weapon behind the ear of the terrified man.

Hidden by the brink of the declivity the escort was in total ignorance of what was going on. Their first intimation that something was wrong was a warning whistle from the foremost locomotive as the captured engine began to back away from the rest of the train.

"I hope to goodness that the other chap doesn't leave the siding," muttered Dacres, "or our retreat will be cut off."

Fortunately the driver of the first engine contented himself with giving the alarm. Had he backed on to the main line the Englishman's fears would have been realized.

In thirty seconds the captured engine ran over the points. Hearing the noise the pointswoman--a half-caste--came out of the hut and looked suspiciously at the crowded cab of the engine.

A sharp order from Henri was sufficient. The driver, thoroughly cowed, shouted to the woman to shift the points, and with the coupled wheels racing furiously the engine gathered speed in the direction of La Paz.

The race for freedom had begun.