The Dreadnought of the Air

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  CORNERED.

  BEFORE the "Meteor" could alight and throw out her huge sea-anchorthe "Quickstep" had hove-to and was lowering a boat. Into the lattertumbled four lean-jawed men and a hatchet-faced youngster of aboutnineteen years of age.

  There was no doubt about it: those New Englanders knew how to managea boat in a seaway. Dexterously the falls were cast off, and bendingto their oars the rowers made the whaler shoot over the long, heavingwaves.

  Before they had made twenty strokes the report of a pistol shot camefrom the tramp. Without a moment's hesitation her skipper jumped fromthe bridge without troubling to make use of the ladder, and boltedaft, followed by half a dozen of the deck hands.

  It was not long before he was back on deck with a revolver in hishand. At his command one of the men signalled to the "Meteor."

  "Sorry! You're right. Laid the skunk by the heels."

  As soon as the "Quickstep's" boat came alongside the airship the ladin charge swarmed up the rope ladder and gained the deck.

  "Guess you're the boss of this hyer packet?" he exclaimed. "I'm SilasP. Cotton, second mate of the S.S 'Quickstep.' Shake."

  Vaughan Whittinghame smiled and accepted the invitation. He extendedhis hand and shook the proffered tarry paw of the self-possessedyoung Boston man.

  "That skunk Durango has been throwing dust into the old man's eyes,"continued Silas P. Cotton. "So the boss has sent me to square thingsup. I reckon we've heard of the wonderful 'Meteor,' but we didn'tcalculate on her being so short in length."

  "Neither did we," agreed Whittinghame. "Come to my cabin and let ushear about your three passengers. What will you have to drink?"

  "Guess rum's my pizen, boss."

  A jar of Navy rum that had been sent on board the "Meteor" by thefleet paymaster of one of the ships of Admiral Maynebrace's squadronwas produced and uncorked. Filling half a tumbler with the darkspirit the second mate tossed it down at one gulp.

  "Now, bizness, boss. This hyer Durango swore that he was a Britisher,and that the airship was one of those blarmed Valderian craft thatwanted to lay him by the heels. Our skipper bit the bullet. Sez he:'There ain't no British airship of that size off this hyer coast;I'll reckon we'll have no truck with that one. I don't want nogreasers on my hooker.' So he ordered the helm to be put up, leavingyou lying on the water as you are doing now. Durango--Mister Turnerof London, he said he was--had heaps of dollars and offered to squareup handsome-like if the 'old man' would land him at Guayaquil. Theboss said the best he could do was to put him ashore at Panama. Withthat the skunk seemed right down sick, for he went below to the berthwe'd given him, and wouldn't stir."

  "Do you happen to know if he had any papers on him?"

  "Rolls of paper dollars," replied the second mate. "That's all, Iguess. What do you say to coming aboard and seeing how the old manhas fixed him up?"

  "With pleasure," said Whittinghame. "I hope you won't mind if two ofmy officers accompany me?"

  "Guess they'll get a wet shirt apiece if they ain't particularlyslick in getting aboard," replied Silas P. Cotton with a grin.

  "Come along, Gerald; and you, too, Mr. Dacres," said the Captain. "Wemay as well----"

  "Message just been signalled from the 'Quickstep,' sir," reportedCallaghan. "Captain Gotham asks you to come aboard and bring pistolswith you."

  "Then, all the fun is not yet over," exclaimed Vaughan Whittinghame."Take arms, gentlemen. Durango evidently means to give as muchtrouble as possible."

  As the boat ran alongside the "Quickstep" another shot rang out frombelow. Thinking that there was no time to be lost VaughanWhittinghame seized hold of the man-ropes and, ably supported by hiscomrades and the whaler's crew, gained the deck.

  To his surprise Whittinghame found Captain Gotham, with his handsthrust deeply into his pockets, leaning against the after guard-railof the bridge. A huge cigar was jammed tightly betwixt his teeth, andhis peaked cap raked at an alarming angle.

  "G'day, gentlemen," he exclaimed without attempting to remove hiscigar. "Guess you've come to take that wild critter off my hands?Great snakes! If I had a-known he was a low-down Mexican greaser I'dthought twice before he set foot on this hooker."

  "Where is he?" asked Whittinghame.

  "In the mate's cabin. He's locked himself in, you bet. Thorssenntried to boost open the door, but the sarpint let fly some.Thorssenn's got more than he can chew, I reckon."

  "Was he hit?"

  "Clean through the shoulder, boss. Say, how are you going about it?"

  Going below and making their way along the narrow alley-way the twoWhittinghames and Dacres approached the place where Durango had takenrefuge. The hard-visaged Yankee skipper and Silas P. Cotton, not tobe outdone in the business of securing the renegade, also joined theattacking party.

  Through the cabin door two small jagged holes marked the tracks ofDurango's shots. One bullet was embedded in the panelling on theopposite side of the alley-way; the other the unfortunate first matewas nursing in his shoulder.

  "The game's up, Durango," said Captain Whittinghame sternly. "Youcannot escape, so surrender."

  The Mexican's reply was to send another shot through the door, thebullet whizzing between Vaughan and the sub.

  The attackers promptly backed out of the danger zone.

  "Say, why not let rip at him altogether?" asked Captain Gotham,raising his heavy Colt revolver.

  "We want him alive," replied Vaughan Whittinghame. "I cannot explainnow, but he's worth more alive than dead."

  "Then aim low and cripple the skunk," rejoined the skipper bluntly."If we've got to wait till he's starved out I reckon we'll be in thelatitude of Cape Hatteras before he bails up. Say, what's yourprogramme?"

  "Have you a piece of boiler-plate handy?"

  "You bet," drawled the Yankee, blowing out a cloud of smoke throughhis nose, for the cigar was still tightly held between his teeth."Cut away, sonny, and tell Andrews to send up a piece of biler plateas much as one man can hold--git."

  With remarkable agility Silas P. Cotton, who had been addressed as"sonny," made off to carry out the old man's orders. Presently hereturned, staggering under the weight of a slightly curvedthree-sixteenths plate.

  Using this as a shield Whittinghame, Dacres, and the master of the"Quickstep" exerted their whole weight and strength against thecomparatively frail door. It creaked, but refused to give. TheMexican had barricaded it with the first mate's furniture andbedding.

  Durango let fly another shot. The ping of the lead against theboiler-plate told its own tale. He fired again, this time low down.The bullet cut a groove in the Yankee's sea-boots and caused thatworthy to let fly a string of oaths.

  "Guess I'm master of my own ship!" he shouted. "Who tells CaptainGotham not to use his shooting arms? Here goes."

  He raised his revolver and sent six shots in rapid succession throughthe door. Then he listened, only to skip and dodge behind the ironplate as another bullet cut the peak of his cap.

  "Have you any sulphur on board, captain?" asked Dacres, as theAmerican was about to reload.

  "Sulphur? Wal, I guess I have some."

  "Then we'll smoke him out," continued the sub. "All we want is abrazier and some short lengths of copper pipe and a pair of bellows."

  "Bully for you!" exclaimed Captain Gotham enthusiastically. "Git,sonny, and tell Andrews to lay out with the gear."

  Off hurried the second mate, to return accompanied by the engineer, aman as lantern-jawed as the rest of the officers of the "Quickstep."With him came a deckhand, who, under Cotton's orders, had stove in abarrel of sulphur.

  Soon the yellow rock-like substance was burning. Its pungent fumescaused water to run from the eyes of the operators. More than onceduring their preparations they had to beat a hurried retreat and gaspfor breath in the open air.

  At length two pipes were inserted through the shot-holes in the door;the bellows were filled with reeking fumes and discharged through thepipes.

  Durango beg
an to cough. The men without could hear him fumbling withthe things he had used to barricade the door, with the intention ofplugging the pipes and preventing the invasion of the sulphur fumes.Again the attackers hurled themselves against the woodwork. TheMexican realized that he had either to abandon the barricade orsubmit to be smoked out.

  Sheltered behind the boiler-plate Dacres vigorously plied thebellows. After five minutes a strange silence prevailed. GeraldWhittinghame, risking the chance of being shot, peeped through one ofthe bullet-holes in the upper part of the woodwork.

  The interior of the cabin was full of yellow vapour. He could discernthe Mexican. Durango had his face jammed up against the open scuttle.

  "Tarnation thunder!" ejaculated Captain Gotham. "I fair forgot thatscuttle. Keep the pot bilen', boss."

  With this injunction the master of the "Quickstep" made his way tothe poop deck and peered over the rail. He could see the tip ofDurango's nose projecting beyond the rim of the scuttle, while cloudsof sulphur fumes wafted past the Mexican's head and eddied along theship's side.

  "Lower that fender--look alive, there!" ordered Captain Gotham.

  Two men dragging a huge globular rope fender lowered it over the sideand adjusted it so that it blocked the Mexican's sole means ofobtaining fresh air. He immediately pushed the obstruction aside withhis knife.

  The Yankee skipper was not to be baulked. A long handspike wasprocured; one end was wedged between the lower part of a convenientdavit and the vessel's side; a tackle was clapped on to the other endand bowsed taut, thus jamming the fender hard against the scuttle.

  The end was now in sight. Durango was gasping for breath.

  "Will you surrender?" demanded Captain Whittinghame.

  There was no answer.

  The attacking party waited a few moments longer. There was a dullthud upon the cabin floor. Still suspecting that this was a ruse onthe part of the trapped man they waited another minute, then the doorwas burst open.

  The rush of sulphurous air almost capsized them. Dacres, tying ahandkerchief over his mouth and nose, crawled in. His handsencountered the Mexican's resistless form. With a heave he draggedhim into the alley-way. Other hands relieved him of his burden andcarried Durango on deck.

  "Dead?" asked Gerald Whittinghame.

  "Snakes don't die easy," grunted Captain Gotham. "Take him away,boss, and welcome to him."

  The unconscious form of Durango was lowered out into the"Quickstep's" whaler. The British officers shook hands with theYankee skipper as they prepared to go over the side.

  "One moment, boss," said the latter. "Guess you know I've got thosetwo Valderians aboard?"

  "Yes," assented Vaughan. "Can you give five men a passage to Panama?I'll see that you are not out of pocket by it."

  "Five?" queried Captain Gotham.

  "Yes, these two Valderians and three men of a Galapagos boat wepicked up just now. Will fifty dollars be sufficient?"

  "Guess that'll fix 'em up, cap. Send the others along."

  Twenty minutes later the airship and the tramp parted company, the"Quickstep" to flounder along at a sedate eight knots, while the"Meteor," with Durango in safe keeping, was speeding aloft at ninetymiles an hour, homeward bound at last.