City in the Sahara - Barsac Mission 02

  None the less, as the colonel's order, when examined minutely, had every appearance of authenticity, it had to be regarded as genuine until proof could be obtained to the contrary. Quarters were therefore assigned to Captain Marcenay and his men: and as soon as an opportunity occurred, the order of Colonel Saint-Auban would be sent to its author, who alone could say whether or not it was apocryphal.

  But from Timbuctoo to Bammako was over six hundred miles, as much uphill as down. Much time would therefore elapse before a reply could be received from the coloneL

  For Captain Marcenay, at a loose end, without definite duties, and the prey to continual disquiet, that time would have seemed very long. Happily, however, towards the end of March, relief came in the person of Captain Perrigny, one of his old comrades at St. Cyr with whom he had never ceased to be on terms of intimate friendship. The two friends were delighted to see one another, and from that moment time passed more quickly for Captain Marcenay.

  Informed of his comrade's uneasiness, Perrigny reassured him. He regarded the idea of a spurious order, so well counterfeited diat it deceived everyone, as nonsensical. He thought it more likely that Lieutenant Lacour, badly informed as to the true motives for the Colonel's decision, had described them inaccurately. As for the surprise of Colonel Allegre that was easy to explain, In a region not yet fully organized, it was not at all to be wondered at that an order should have gone astray.

  Captain Perrigny, who was to be stationed two years at Timbuctoo, had brought a quantity of luggage with him, and his friend helped him unpack. Strictly speaking, much of it consisted of laboratory instruments rather than baggage. If he had not worn uniform, Perrigny would certainly have been placed among the savants. Devoted to science, he kept himself acquainted with all its current problems, and especially with those relating to electricity. In their relationship, Perrigny represented study and Marcenay action. This difference in their leanings frequently gave rise to friendly disputes. They were accustomed to call each other an old library rat and a low swashbuckler, but they fully realized that Marcenay's love of action did not keep him from being a cultivated and well informed man, any more than Perrignys learning interfered with his being a brave and competent officer.

  A few days after his friend arrived, Captain Marcenay found that he had just installed a new apparatus in a yard of the dwelling where he had place his household goods.

  "You've come just at the right moment," Perrigny exclaimed. "I'm going to show you something interesting."

  'That?" asked Marcenay, pointing towards some apparatus comprising two electric batteries, some electromagnets, and a small glass tube containing some metallic filings, and surmounted by a copper upright several yards high.

  "Just that," Perrigny replied. "This trifle, just as you see it here, is a real example of witchcraft. It's simply a telegraphic receiving station, but-mark my words-of wireless telegraphy."

  "They've been talking about that for several years," Marcenay replied with interest. "Has the problem been solved?"

  "It certainly hasl" exclaimed Perrigny. "Yes, two men have appeared on this terrestrial globe at the same instant of history. One, an Italian called Marconi, has found a method of radiating into space the waves known as Hertzian. . . . Do you happen to know what they are, you hectoring ruffian?"

  "Yes, I do," replied Marcenay, "when I was in France they were discussing Marconi But the other inventor you mentioned?"

  "He's a Frenchman, Doctor Branly. It was he who discovered the receiver, a tiny marvel of simple ingenuity."

  "And this apparatus I'm looking at?"

  "That's the receiver. You'll understand its principle in a twinkling. M. Branly noticed that, although iron filings are normally poor conductors of electricity, they become excellent conductors under the action of an Hertzian wave. Its effect is to make them attract one another and increase their cohesion. That conceded, you see this little tube?"

  "I can see it."

  "This is the coherer, or wave detector, whichever you like. This tube, which is full of iron filings, is inserted in the circuit of an ordinary battery which I have the honour to show you. Being a poor conductor, the tube consequendy interrupts the circuit, and no current passes. Understand?"

  "Yes, but then?"

  "If then a Hertzian wave should arrive, it is captured by this copper rod, which is called an antenna. The tube, which is connected up with it, becomes a conductor, the battery circuit is closed, and the current passes. Do you still understand, you wallower in blood?"

  "Yes, you old barnacle of a scientist Go on."

  "And this is where the present speaker comes in. Thanks to a contrivance which I invented myself, combined with Branly's discovery, the current activates a Morse receiver through which a paper tape unrolls in the ordinary way. But at the same time this little hammer which you see here taps the coherers; the shock separates the filings and these as usual become nonconductors. The current no longer flows from the battery, and the Morse receiver stops printing.

  "That only makes one single point on the paper tape, you tell me? Yes, but the same series of events continues, so long as the antenna keeps on receiving the waves. When these stop, nothing is printed on the tape until the next waves arrive. So at last this action gives us a series of points in unequal groups, representing the longs and shorts of the Morse alphabet. A telegraphist can read them as easily as ordinary writing."

  "You, for example?"

  "Me, for example."

  "And why have you brought this instrument, out of the ordinary, I must say-into these barbaric parts?"

  "It and its brother, the wave producer, in other words the transmitter, which I shall start setting up tomorrow. I've a passion for wireless telegraphy. I want to be the first to install it in the Sahara. That's why I've brought these two sets of equipment. Things like these are still rare enough anywhere on earth, and there are none of them in Africa, I can tell you that. Just think of it! If we could get directly into touch with Bammako.. . . And perhaps with St. Louis!"

  "With St. Louis! .. . Thai's a bit far!"

  "Not at all," Perrigny protested. "Long distance communication has already been carried out."

  "Impossible!"

  "Quite possible, you war battered veteran. And I hope to do even better myself. I'm going to begin a series of experiments all along the Niger...."

  Captain Perrigny stopped abruptly. His widely-opened eyes, his gaping mouth, showed how greatly he was surprised. From the Branly apparatus came a faint crackling sound which his practised ear could recognize.

  "What's up with you?" asked Marcenay in astonishment.

  His friend had to make an effort to reply. His amazement seemed to strangle him. "It's going," he said at last, pointing to the apparatus.

  "What! It's going," Captain Marcenay replied ironically.

  "You're dreaming, you future member of the Institute. Your apparatus is the only one in Africa, so it can't possibly be going as you put it so elegantly. It's out of order, that's all."

  Captain Perrigny hastened to the receiver without replying.

  "Out of order!" he protested, seized by violent excitement. "It's so little out of order that I can read on the tape: 'Capt . . . ain . . . Capt . . . ain . . . Mar . . . Captain Marcenay!"

  "My name!" his friend chaffed him. "I'm much afraid, old man, that you're not going to have me on, as they"

  "Your name!" declared Perrigny, speaking with so much emotion that his comrade was impressed.

  The apparatus had stopped and now remained silent under the eyes of the two officers, who were still staring at it Soon, however, the significant clicking could be heard once more.

  "Look at it starting again!" exclaimed Perrigny, who was leaning over the tape. "Well! Now it's your address: Timbuctoo'."

  "Timbuctoo!" Marcenay repeated mechanically. He too was trembling, gripped by a strange emotion.

  The apparatus had stopped a second time. Then after a brief pause, the printed tape again began to unroll,
only to stop once more a few moments later.

  "Jane Blazon," Perrigny read aloud.

  "Don't know her," Marcenay declared, giving, though he hardly knew why, a sigh of relief. "It's a trick somebody's playing on us."

  "A trick?" Perrigny repeated thoughtfully. "Why, how could anyone—look, it's started again.'

  Leaning over the tape he read, spelling out the words as fast as they appeared:

  "Come . . . to . . . the . . . res . . . cue . . . of . . . Jane ... Mor ... nas."

  "Jane Mornasl" exclaimed Captain Marcenay. Feeling that he was choking, he unhooked the collar of his tunic.

  "Quiet!" Perrigny ordered. "Pri . . . son ... er ... at ... Black ... land ..."

  For the fourth time the clicking stopped. Perrigny stood upright and looked at his comrade, who had turned very pale. "What's wrong?" he asked affectionately.

  "Ill explain later," Marcenay replied painfully. "But Blackland, what do you make of Blackland?"

  Perrigny had no time to reply. The apparatus was working yet once again. He read:

  "Lat. . . it . . . ude . . . Fif . . . teen . . . de . . . grees . . . fif. . . ty . . . min . . . utes . . . north . . . long . . . it . .. ude...."

  Leaning over the instrument which had suddenly fallen silent, the two officers waited in vain for some minutes. This time the stop was final, and the Morse receiver was dumb.

  Captain Perrigny murmured very thoughtfully: "That's a strong cup of tea, as the saying is. Can there be another wireless amateur in this God forsaken country? And someone who knows you, old man," he added.

  Turning towards his friend, he was struck by the alteration in his face. "Is anything the matter?" he asked. "You look quite pale."

  In a few quick words, Captain Marcenay told his comrade the reason for his distress. If his surprise had been great when he saw his own name appearing on the . tape, it had become emotion, and a deep emotion, when Perrigny had pronounced that of Jane Momas. He knew Jane Mornas, he loved Jane Mornas, and though no word had been said on the matter between them, it was his steadfast hope that one day she would become Iris wife.

  He recalled the fears which had tormented him ever since he had so much reason to doubt the validity of Colonel St. Auban's orders. The mysterious message which had just arrived out of space had confirmed them only too well. Jane Mornas was in clanger.

  "And it was I whom she turned to for helpl" he exclaimed, his distress not unmingled with a trace of joy.

  "Well, that's easy enough," replied Perrigny. "You must give her the help she asks for."

  "That goes without sayingl" exclaimed Marcenay, excited by the prospect of action. "But how?"

  "We shall have to look into that," Perrigny told him. "Let's first draw out the logical conclusions of the facts we know. I find them reassuring."

  "You find them? . . ." Marcenay replied bitterly.

  "Yes, I do. Prime, Mlle Mornas cannot be alone, for as you know she never had a wireless transmitter. Not to speak of the companions you left with her, she must have at least one protector, the one who owns that apparatus. And he's an expert, you can take my word for it."

  On Marcenay's giving an approving nod, Perrigny continued:

  "Secundo, Mlle Mornas is not exposed to immediate peril. She telegraphed you at Timbuctoo. That's where she thinks you are, so she must know that you're on the far side of the door, and will take some time to answer her call. Then since she telegraphed you in spite of that, she must think it wouldn't be in vain. So, if danger threatens her, it isn't imminent."

  "What are you suggesting?" Marcenay asked nervously.

  "That you set your mind at ease, with good hopes that the story will end happily . . . and go and find the colonel and ask him to organize an expedition to rescue M. Le Depute Barsac and Mlle Mornas into the bargain."

  The two captains at once went to Colonel Allegre, to whom they related the astonishing events they had just witnessed. They showed him the tape printed by the Morse receiver, which Perrigny translated into "clear."

  "There's nothing about M. Barsac there," the colonel pointed out.

  "No," replied Perrigny, "but as Mlle Mornas was with him...."

  "Who told you she hasn't left him?" the colonel objected. T know the route of the Barsac Mission quite well, and I can guarantee that it didn't extend so high in latitude. The Mission was to pass through Ouaghad-ougou, which is well known to be on the twelfth degree, and to end at Saye, which is on the thirteenth. This mysterious message talks about fifteen degrees fifty, sixteen degrees one might say."

  This comment aroused Marcenay's memory.

  "You're right, mon Colonel," he agreed. "Mlle Mornas may indeed have left the Barsac Mission. I recollect that she meant to set off a hundred miles or so beyond Sikasso, to go northwards alone, with the aim of reaching the Niger at Gao."

  "That alters the look of diings," the colonel replied seriously, "to free M. Barsac, a Deputy, an official delegate of France, an expedition would be reasonable, while for Mlle Mornas, a private individual...."

  "None the less," Marcenay interrupted with energy, "if the order I brought was false, as everydiing leads us to suppose, M. Barsac must be the victim of that rascal who took my place."

  "Maybe . . . maybe," the colonel conceded doubtfully. "But to clear that matter up, we must wait for a reply from Bammako."

  "But it's urgent," Marcenay cried distressfully. "We cannot let that poor child perish when she's appealed to me for help."

  "It isn't a question of perishing," the colonel objected; he, at least, had retained his calm. "She only says that she's a prisoner, nothing more. . . . Besides, where would you go to rescue her? What's this Blackland she's talking about?"

  "She's given us the latitude."

  "Yes, but not the longitude. Well, you left Mlle Mornas beyond Sikasso. She hasn't gone back westwards, I suppose. The sixteenth degree first traverses the Macina, then crosses the Niger, and vanishes into a desert region which is absolutely unknown. Blackland couldn't possibly be in the Macina without our knowing about it, so we should have to look for it in the open desert."

  "Well, mon Colonel? ..." ventured Marcenay.

  "Well, Captain, I don't see how I can possibly send a column in that direction. That would come to risking the lives of a hundred or two hundred men to rescue only one individual."

  "Why two hundred men?" asked Marcenay, who felt his hopes vanishing. "Surely far fewer would be ample."

  "I don't think so, Captain. You cannot be unaware of the rumours travelling all along the Niger. The blacks say that somewhere or other, nobody can tell exactly where, there is a native empire which hasn't the best of reputations. As the name Blackland is unknown, it isn't impossible that it should be that of the capital or one of the towns of the empire in question. The latitude you have been given renders this idea more feasible, for this is the only region where such a power could have been founded without all the world's knowing about it.

  "Besides, doesn't the English sound of the word 'Blackland' strike you? .. . Sokoto, an English colony, is not so far from its supposed position. ... That might create another difficulty, not one of the least prickly. ... In short, granted such conditions, I feel that it would be imprudent to risk an adventure in a region completely unexplored, without using sufficient forces to meet every eventuality."

  "Then, mon Colonel, you refuse?" Marcenay insisted. "With regret, but I must refuse," replied Colonel Al-legre.

  Captain Marcenay insisted still further. He explained to his chief, as he had explained to his comrade, the ties which bound him to Mlle Mornas. It was in vain. It was equally in vain that he pointed out that he had brought with him a hundred men who could be spared because nobody had expected them. Colonel Allegre would not let himself be moved.

  "I am distressed, profoundly distressed, Captain, but it is my duty to reply in the negative. Possibly your men may not be needed here, but they are men, and I haven't the right to jeopardize their existence so lightly. Besides, there is no ur
gency. Let us wait for another communication from Mlle Mornas. As she has telegraphed once, quite possibly she'll telegraph again."

  "And if she doesn't," Marcenay protested despairingly, "what are we to deduce from the sudden interruption of her message?"

  The colonel made a gesture indicating that this was infinitely regrettable, but that it could not modify his decision.

  "Then I shall go alone," Marcenay declared firmly. "Alone?" the colonel repeated.

  "Yes, mon Colonel. I shall ask for leave of absence, which you cannot refuse...."

  "On the contrary, which I shall refuse," the colonel replied. "Do you think I shall let you throw yourself into an adventure from which you may never return?"

  "In that case, mon Colonel, I must ask you to be good enough to accept my resignation."

  "Your resignation?"

  "Yes, mon Colonel," Marcenay replied calmly.

  Colonel Allegre did not reply at once. He looked at his surjordinate, and realized that the man was not in a normal state of mind.

  "You realize, Captain," he replied in fatherly tones, "that your resignation would have to go through the official channels, and that I haven't the authority to accept it. In any event, it is something which needs to be reflected on. Let's leave it for tonight and come and see me tomorrow. We must have a chat."

  Giving a formal salute, the two officers left him. Perrigny walked away with his comrade, trying as best he could to reassure rum. But the unfortunate man did not even hear him.

  When Captain Marcenay reached his quarters, he took leave of his friend and locked himself in. Alone at last, he threw himself on his bed, and his courage exhausted, unable to bear any more, he burst into sobs.

  CHAPTER IX

  DISASTER

  The interruption of the current from the hydro-electric station did not last long. Cut off on the 9th April, the current again began to flow on the following morning.

  In point of fact, Harry Killer was the first victim of that manoeuvre, which he had thought so very clever. If he no longer supplied to the Factory the energy it needed, in return this no longer rendered him the services he was used to.