CHAPTER XXVIII.
A PRISONER OF WAR.
THE noise of the explosion and the clang of the gate caused Zaypuruto rein in his horse and give a hasty glance over his shoulder. Then,still unsuspicious, he advanced towards the officer he took to be thecommandante, Alonzo da Costa, till shouts of "Treason" from his menoutside the gates gave warning that something was amiss.
With a snarl of rage Zaypuru drew his horse almost on its haunchesand tugging violently at the reins caused the animal to swerve. In sodoing it came into violent contact with the animal ridden by one ofhis staff. Both chargers reared, and had their riders been anythingbut expert horsemen they would have been dismounted. Forcing his waybetween his attendants Zaypuru made for the gate, to find hisprogress barred by a line of glistening bayonets.
"Surrender, Zaypuru!" shouted General Galento in stentorian tones."We will spare your life."
Two members of the president's staff alone showed any determinedresistance. Drawing their revolvers and using their sharp rowelledspurs unmercifully they rode straight towards the impersonator of DonAlonzo da Costa.
Before they had covered half that distance an irregular volley ofmusketry burst from the men supporting General Galento. The twohorses, riddled with bullets, dropped to the ground, rolledcompletely over and then lay feebly kicking in their death agonies.Their riders, fortunately thrown clear, were too dazed to offerfurther resistance to the men, who left the ranks and seized them.
"Surrender, Zaypuru!" repeated Galento.
"Is my life guaranteed?" asked the president, who was trembling likea leaf.
"You will not die a violent death at our hands," replied the generalurbanely.
"You mean to murder me," howled the wretched man.
"I would have you shot by a platoon with the greatest pleasure, Iassure you," remarked Galento with well-assumed indifference."Unfortunately, as far as my inclination is concerned, I have given apromise to the English commandante of the Cavarale."
"They are referring to you, Dacres," said Gerald Whittinghame, who,unseen by the president and his followers, had followed the whole ofthe conversation. "There is no further need for concealment. Thatrascal Zaypuru will surrender to you."
Although Zaypuru had not hesitated to treat his British captives withindignity, he had a certain amount of respect for the word of anEnglishman. Directly Dacres crossed over to where Galento wasstanding, the President got down from his horse, and unbuckling hissword, tendered it to the Englishman.
Just then a rattle of musketry was heard without. Those of thePresident's escort who had been left on the remote side of the dryditch had taken cover behind the outer wall and were firing at theValderians who held the roof of the prison. The latter brisklyreplied, and the exchange of shots was rapidly maintained.
"Where are you, Whittinghame?" shouted Dacres. "Tell some of thesemen to take the prisoner to the Commandante's quarters. I'll have todirect operations against those fellows who are kicking up a dustoutside."
Directly Gerald Whittinghame appeared on the scene Zaypuru's terrorsreturned. The sight of the man whom he had treated with uncalled forseverity filled him with the most abject fright. He fell on hisknees, and, upraising his clasped hands, implored his former captiveto have pity.
"Get up, and don't make a fool of yourself," exclaimed Geraldsternly. "You won't be hurt unless you give trouble."
"I never meant to do you an injury, senor," persisted Zaypuru; "itwas my adviser Durango who urged it."
"The less you say about it the better," interrupted Whittinghame. "Iwant to hear no excuses. Party!" he ordered, addressing a file ofmen. "Escort the prisoner to the Commandante's quarters."
Trembling like a leaf the President was taken away and lodged in thesame room as his henchman, Alonzo da Costa, while the rest of his menwho had followed him into the _patio_ surrendered at discretion.
Meanwhile, Dacres was directing the fire of the defenders. Althoughthe aim of the Valderians on both sides was erratic, several of thebullets whistled unpleasantly close. The President's escort, fearingto retire, since in their retreat they would be fully exposed to thefire of the garrison, stuck tenaciously to the cover afforded by theouter wall, hoping that additional troops would be sent fromNaocuanha to their support.
"Man that machine gun," ordered Dacres to those of the crew of the"Meteor" who had remained with him.
The ammunition was soon forthcoming, and a hail of small projectilesdirected upon the adobe wall. This was more than the enemy couldswallow, and a white flag soon appeared above the crumbling outerwall.
Keeping the defenders well under control, Gerald Whittinghame shoutedto the President's men that they were at liberty to retire to thecapital. For some moments there was no indication of this offer beingaccepted. At length, one or two plucked up courage to make a dashtowards Naocuanha, and finding that they were not fired upon the restof the escort promptly took to their heels, amid the jeers of thereleased prisoners.
Dacres looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past nine.
"Nearly an hour to wait," he remarked as Gerald Whittinghame came up."If Zaypuru hadn't been so inconsiderate as to arrive an hour earlierhe might have saved us some trouble."
"What do you mean?" asked Gerald.
"Unless I am very much mistaken Fort Volador will be opening fire onus."
"With Zaypuru in our hands?"
"That won't count with them, I fancy," said Dacres, as he bent theblue and white flag to the halliards in readiness for hoisting at theapproach of the "Meteor."
Just then General Galento hurried up.
"Senor Whittinghame," said he, "a message has just been sent bytelephone from Fort Volador. The men belonging to Zaypuru's escortwhom you allowed to go without hindrance have reported the situation.The Commandante of the fort has called upon us to surrender atdiscretion, otherwise he will bombard the Cavarale."
"Then let him," replied Whittinghame. "That is, if he wants to murderhis President. As a matter of fact I don't believe there are gunsmounted on Fort Volador that are capable of doing much damage. Allthe heavy ordnance have been taken to the Zandovar side of the city."
"Then how shall I answer, senor?"
"Tell him to go to Jericho," replied Whittinghame, shrugging hisshoulders.
"That's the way to talk to these gentry," remarked Dacres when Geraldtold him of the conversation. "Treat the matter lightly and it willgive our Valderian allies confidence. Ha! There's the first shot."
With a peculiar, throbbing screech a twelve-pounder shell flewhandsomely over the Cavarale, bursting quite eight hundred yardsbeyond the building.
"Bad shot!" ejaculated Dacres coolly. "All the same I think we willwithdraw our men from the wall. Order them to lie down as far apartas possible. I'll be with you in a moment."
Deliberately hoisting the blue and white flag Dacres took a finalsurvey of the horizon. Seeing no sign of the Dreadnought of the Airhe descended to the _patio_.
Another shell screeched overhead, missing the parapet of thefurthermost wall by a bare five feet. Fort Volador's gunners weregetting the correct range, yet the rate of firing was painfully slow.
The third shot struck that part of the prison in which the Britishofficers had been incarcerated. With a crash that shook the place themissile burst, blowing a gap in the outer and inner walls largeenough for a horse and cart to pass.
"Senor," exclaimed a Valderian breathlessly, "Zaypuru has asked me tobe allowed to speak with the Commandante of Fort Volador. He says hewill order the battery to cease fire."
"It will be useless," replied Whittinghame.
"It is surely worth trying," urged General Galento, who was beginningto show signs of "jumpiness."
"Very good," assented Gerald. "You might accompany Zaypuru to theorderly-room, General, and repeat to me what he says."
Catching up his long sword, Galento, still resplendent in hisborrowed plumes, ran across the _patio_, his movements hastened by ashell that struck the ground within ten yards of him-
-happily withoutbursting.
He found Zaypuru ashen with fear. Both Valderians, their enmityvanishing before a common danger, hurried to the orderly-room.
With trembling fingers the President lifted the receiver, and held itto his ear.
"Is that Commandante Vilano?" he asked. "It is I, Diego Zaypuru, yourPresident. My life is in danger from the fire of the fort. I orderyou to desist immediately."
He waited to listen to a jeering reply.
"I order you. I beg of you," he continued.
Galento, equally agitated, anxiously watched the face of his formerpersecutor.
With a gesture of despair the President threw the receiver againstthe wall, where it struck with disastrous results to the instrument;then burying his face in his hands he burst into tears.
"Is there no place where I can hide in safety?" he whined. In hisutter selfishness he gave no thought to the members of his staff, whowere in an equally hazardous predicament.
Ten minutes later Gerald Whittinghame, finding that General Galentohad not returned, took two of the "Meteor's" men to look for him. Theorderly-room was empty.
A muffled groan from the adjoining barrack-room attracted hisattention.
Lying side by side on the bare floor and covered by a heap of strawmattresses were the President of Valderia and General Galento.
"White-livered rascals; fear, like adversity, makes strangebedfellows," he exclaimed contemptuously.
By this time the shells from Fort Volador were coming quicker andwith better aim. Already the front of the Cavarale facing Naocuanhawas little better than a heap of ruins, but the debris formed such aneffective breastwork that Dacres ordered the garrison to take shelterbehind it. The two angle-towers had disappeared, tearing away heapsof brick and stone and leaving a mound twenty feet in height. Theirdestruction had resulted in the removal of the recognized signal tothe "Meteor" that all was well.
Even Dacres began to be anxious, although he kept his doubts tohimself. The fact of being under fire without being able to return aneffective shot told heavily upon the Valderian members of thegarrison. He began to consider the possibilities of a retirement.
"Getting pretty hot," he said to Gerald Whittinghame.
"Yes; three men down with that last shell," replied Vaughan'sbrother, flicking some dust from his coat. "That makes sixteen, Ibelieve."
"Any of the 'Meteor's' men?"
"No, thank heavens! unless one or two of them have received slighthurts. They are splendid fellows. How goes the time? My watch wasstolen before I was brought here as a prisoner."
"Nine minutes to ten," replied Dacres.
"Hurrah, there she is!" shouted one of the "Meteor's" men at thatmoment.
Flying high and at her greatest speed the huge airship wasapproaching from the direction of the Sierras.
Heedless of the risk he ran, one of the British defenders of theCavarale dashed across the heap of brickwork and recovered the blueand white flag. The bunting was torn, the staff severed, but thedaring fellow waved the remains of the flag above his head.
"Come down, Jones; they've seen us!" ordered Dacres.
Two minutes later the "Meteor" passed immediately overhead and at anelevation of ten thousand feet. She made no attempt to descend.
"By Jove! I have it!" ejaculated Gerald Whittinghame. "She's going tosettle with Fort Volador."
The garrison of the Valderian fort saw the danger. Their fire uponthe Cavarale ceased. An attempt was made to train the quick-firersupon the airship, but the weapons were not on suitable mountings.
Panic seized the artillerymen. Abandoning the fort they fledpell-mell towards Naocuanha.
The "Meteor's" motors stopped. Rapidly she lost way, bringing upimmediately above the doomed fort.
Through his binoculars Dacres observed a small black object drop fromthe airship. Sixty-five seconds later, having fallen verticallythrough a distance of nearly three thousand five hundred yards, thebomb struck the ground.
The aim was superb. Alighting fairly in the centre of the desertedfort it exploded. A burst of lurid flame was followed by a densecloud of yellow smoke, mingled with fragments of earth, stones andbricks. The missile of destruction, powerful enough in itself toknock the defences of the fort out of action, had caused the mainmagazine to explode. When the smoke dispersed sufficiently for theobservers on the ruins of the Cavarale to see what had taken place,Fort Volador was no more.
Apparently content with this act of vengeance the "Meteor," glidingvertically downwards, flew slowly over the four-square mass of rubblethat marked the position of the state prison of the Republic ofValderia.
"All right, below there?" came a hail from the "Meteor."
"All right, sir," replied Dacres. "We've close on fifty Valderians wefound in the cells. We must stand by them."
"Quite right," replied Vaughan Whittinghame. "What have you done withthe Commandante and the rest of the garrison?"
"Safe in the underground cellars, sir."
"You might detain the Commandante as a hostage."
"We've a better hostage than the Commandante."
"Who, then?"
"President Zaypuru is a prisoner of war."