FROM RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.
July 9, 1907.
We went at a terrific pace down the coast, keeping well inshore so as
to avoid, if possible, being seen from the south. Just north of
Ilsin a rocky headland juts out, and that was our cover. On the
north of the peninsula is a small land-locked bay, with deep water.
It is large enough to take the yacht, though a much larger vessel
could not safely enter. We ran in, and anchored close to the shore,
which has a rocky frontage--a natural shelf of rock, which is
practically the same as a quay. Here we met the men who had come
from Ilsin and the neighbourhood in answer to our signalling earlier
in the day. They gave us the latest information regarding the
kidnapping of the Voivode, and informed us that every man in that
section of the country was simply aflame about it. They assured us
that we could rely on them, not merely to fight to the death, but to
keep silence absolutely. Whilst the seamen, under the direction of
Rooke, took the aeroplane on shore and found a suitable place for it,
where it was hidden from casual view, but from which it could be
easily launched, the Vladika and I--and, of course, my wife--were
hearing such details as were known of the disappearance of her
father.
It seems that he travelled secretly in order to avoid just such a
possibility as has happened. No one knew of his coming till he came
to Fiume, whence he sent a guarded message to the Archbishop, which
the latter alone would understand. But this Turkish agents were
evidently on his track all the time, and doubtless the Bureau of
Spies was kept well advised. He landed at Ilsin from a coasting
steamer from Ragusa to the Levant.
For two days before his coming there had been quite an unusual number
of arrivals at the little port, at which arrivals are rare. And it
turned out that the little hotel--the only fairly good one in Ilsin--
was almost filled up. Indeed, only one room was left, which the
Voivode took for the night. The innkeeper did not know the Voivode
in his disguise, but suspected who it was from the description. He
dined quietly, and went to bed. His room was at the back, on the
ground-floor, looking out on the bank of the little River Silva,
which here runs into the harbour. No disturbance was heard in the
night. Late in the morning, when the elderly stranger had not made
his appearance, inquiry was made at his door. He did not answer, so
presently the landlord forced the door, and found the room empty.
His luggage was seemingly intact, only the clothes which he had worn
were gone. A strange thing was that, though the bed had been slept
in and his clothes were gone, his night-clothes were not to be found,
from which it was argued by the local authorities, when they came to
make inquiry, that he had gone or been taken from the room in his
night-gear, and that his clothes had been taken with him. There was
evidently some grim suspicion on the part of the authorities, for
they had commanded absolute silence on all in the house. When they
came to make inquiry as to the other guests, it was found that one
and all had gone in the course of the morning, after paying their
bills. None of them had any heavy luggage, and there was nothing
remaining by which they might be traced or which would afford any
clue to their identity. The authorities, having sent a confidential
report to the seat of government, continued their inquiries, and even
now all available hands were at work on the investigation. When I
had signalled to Vissarion, before my arrival there, word had been
sent through the priesthood to enlist in the investigation the
services of all good men, so that every foot of ground in that
section of the Blue Mountains was being investigated. The port-
master was assured by his watchmen that no vessel, large or small,
had heft the harbour during the night. The inference, therefore, was
that the Voivode's captors had made inland with him--if, indeed, they
were not already secreted in or near the town.
Whilst we were receiving the various reports, a hurried message came
that it was now believed that the whole party were in the Silent
Tower. This was a well-chosen place for such an enterprise. It was
a massive tower of immense strength, built as a memorial--and also as
a "keep"--after one of the massacres of the invading Turks.
It stood on the summit of a rocky knoll some ten miles inland from
the Port of Ilsin. It was a place shunned as a rule, and the country
all around it was so arid and desolate that there were no residents
near it. As it was kept for state use, and might be serviceable in
time of war, it was closed with massive iron doors, which were kept
locked except upon certain occasions. The keys were at the seat of
government at Plazac. If, therefore, it had been possible to the
Turkish marauders to gain entrance and exit, it might be a difficult
as well as a dangerous task to try to cut the Voivode out. His
presence with them was a dangerous menace to any force attacking
them, for they would hold his life as a threat.
I consulted with the Vladika at once as to what was best to be done.
And we decided that, though we should put a cordon of guards around
it at a safe distance to prevent them receiving warning, we should at
present make no attack.
We made further inquiry as to whether there had been any vessel seen
in the neighbourhood during the past few days, and were informed that
once or twice a warship had been seen on the near side of the
southern horizon. This was evidently the ship which Rooke had seen
on his rush down the coast after the abduction of the Voivodin, and
which he had identified as a Turkish vessel. The glimpses of her
which had been had were all in full daylight--there was no proof that
she had not stolen up during the night-time without lights. But the
Vladika and I were satisfied that the Turkish vessel was watching--
was in league with both parties of marauders--and was intended to
take off any of the strangers, or their prey, who might reach Ilsin
undetected. It was evidently with this view that the kidnappers of
Teuta had, in the first instance, made with all speed for the south.
It was only when disappointed there that they headed up north,
seeking in desperation for some chance of crossing the border. That
ring of steel had so far well served its purpose.
I sent for Rooke, and put the matter before him. He had thought it
out for himself to the same end as we had. His deduction was:
"Let us keep the cordon, and watch for any signal from the Silent
Tower. The Turks will tire before we shall. I undertake to watch
the Turkish warship. During the night I shall run down south,
without lights, and have a look at her, even if I have to wait till
the grey of the dawn to do so. She may see us; but if she does I
shall crawl away at such pace that she shall not get any idea of our
speed. She will certainly come nearer before a day is over, for be
sure the bureau of spies is kept advised, and they know that when the
country is awake each day increases the hazard of them and their
plans being discovered. From their caution I gather that they do not
court discovery; and from that that they do not wish for an open
declaration of war. If this be so, why should we not come out to
them and force an issue if need be?"
When Teuta and I got a chance to be alone, we discussed the situation
in every phase. The poor girl was in a dreadful state of anxiety
regarding her father's safety. At first she was hardly able to
speak, or even to think, coherently. Her utterance was choked, and
her reasoning palsied with indignation. But presently the fighting
blood of her race restored her faculties, and then her woman's quick
wit was worth the reasoning of a camp full of men. Seeing that she
was all on fire with the subject, I sat still and waited, taking care
not to interrupt her. For quite a long time she sat still, whilst
the coming night thickened. When she spoke, the whole plan of
action, based on subtle thinking, had mapped itself out in her mind:
"We must act quickly. Every hour increases the risk to my father."
Here her voice broke for an instant; but she recovered herself and
went on:
"If you go to the ship, I must not go with you. It would not do for
me to be seen. The Captain doubtless knows of both attempts: that
to carry me off as well as that against my father. As yet he is in
ignorance of what has happened. You and your party of brave, loyal
men did their work so well that no news could go forth. So long,
therefore, as the naval Captain is ignorant, he must delay till the
last. But if he saw me he would know that THAT branch of the venture
had miscarried. He would gather from our being here that we had news
of my father's capture, and as he would know that the marauders would
fail unless they were relieved by force, he would order the captive
to be slain."
"Yes, dear, to-morrow you had, perhaps, better see the Captain, but
to-night we must try to rescue my father. Here I think I see a way.
You have your aeroplane. Please take me with you into the Silent
Tower."
"Not for a world of chrysolite!" said I, horrified. She took my hand
and held it tight whilst she went on:
"Dear, I know, I know! Be satisfied. But it is the only way. You
can, I know, get there, and in the dark. But if you were to go in
it, it would give warning to the enemies, and besides, my father
would not understand. Remember, he does not know you; he has never
seen you, and does not, I suppose, even know as yet of your
existence. But he would know me at once, and in any dress. You can
manage to lower me into the Tower by a rope from the aeroplane. The
Turks as yet do not know of our pursuit, and doubtless rely, at all
events in part, on the strength and security of the Tower. Therefore
their guard will be less active than it would at first or later on.
I shall post father in all details, and we shall be ready quickly.
Now, dear, let us think out the scheme together. Let your man's wit
and experience help my ignorance, and we shall save my father!"
How could I have resisted such pleading--even had it not seemed wise?
But wise it was; and I, who knew what the aeroplane could do under my
own guidance, saw at once the practicalities of the scheme. Of
course there was a dreadful risk in case anything should go wrong.
But we are at present living in a world of risks--and her father's
life was at stake. So I took my dear wife in my arms, and told her
that my mind was hers for this, as my soul and body already were.
And I cheered her by saying that I thought it might be done.
I sent for Rooke, and told him of the new adventure, and he quite
agreed with me in the wisdom of it. I then told him that he would
have to go and interview the Captain of the Turkish warship in the
morning, if I did not turn up. "I am going to see the Vladika," I
said. "He will lead our own troops in the attack on the Silent
Tower. But it will rest with you to deal with the warship. Ask the
Captain to whom or what nation the ship belongs. He is sure to
refuse to tell. In such case mention to him that if he flies no
nation's flag, his vessel is a pirate ship, and that you, who are in
command of the navy of the Blue Mountains, will deal with him as a
pirate is dealt with--no quarter, no mercy. He will temporize, and
perhaps try a bluff; but when things get serious with him he will
land a force, or try to, and may even prepare to shell the town. He
will threaten to, at any rate. In such case deal with him as you
think best, or as near to it as you can." He answered:
"I shall carry out your wishes with my life. It is a righteous task.
Not that anything of that sort would ever stand in my way. If he
attacks our nation, either as a Turk or a pirate, I shall wipe him
out. We shall see what our own little packet can do. Moreover, any
of the marauders who have entered the Blue Mountains, from sea or
otherwise, shall never get out by sea! I take it that we of my
contingent shall cover the attacking party. It will be a sorry time
for us all if that happens without our seeing you and the Voivodin;
for in such case we shall understand the worst!" Iron as he was, the
man trembled.
"That is so, Rooke," I said. "We are taking a desperate chance, we
know. But the case is desperate! But we all have our duty to do,
whatever happens. Ours and yours is stern; but when we have done it,
the result will be that life will be easier for others--for those
that are left."
Before he left, I asked him to send up to me three suits of the
Masterman bullet-proof clothes of which we had a supply on the yacht.
"Two are for the Voivodin and myself," I said; "the third is for the
Voivode to put on. The Voivodin will take it with her when she
descends from the aeroplane into the Tower."
Whilst any daylight was left I went out to survey the ground. My
wife wanted to come with me, but I would not let her. "No," said I;
"you will have at the best a fearful tax on your strength and your
nerves. You will want to be as fresh as is possible when you get on
the aeroplane." Like a good wife, she obeyed, and lay down to rest
in the little tent provided for her.
I took with me a local man who knew the ground, and who was trusted
to be silent. We made a long detour when we had got as near the
Silent Tower as we could without being noticed. I made notes from my
compass as to directions, and took good notice of anything that could
possibly serve as a landmark. By the time we got home I was pretty
well satisfied that if all should go well I could easily sail over
the Tower in the dark. Then I had a talk with my wife, and gave her
full instructions:
"When we arrive over the Tower," I said, "I shall lower you with a
long rope. You will have a parcel of food and spirit for your father
in case he is fatigued or faint; and, of course, the bullet-proof
suit, which he must put on at once. You will also have a short rope
with a belt at either end--one for your father, the other for you.
When I turn the aeroplane and come back again, you will have ready
the ring which lies midway between the belts. This you will catch
into the hook at the end of the lowered rope. When all is secure,
and I have pulled you both up by the windlass so as to clear the top,
I shall throw out ballast which we shall carry on purpose, and away
we go! I am sorry it must be so uncomfortable for you both, but
there is no other way. When we get well clear of the Tower, I shall
take you both up on the platform. If necessary, I shall descend to
do it--and then we shall steer for Ilsin."
"When all is safe, our men will attack the Tower. We must let them
do it, for they expect it. A few men in the clothes and arms which
we took from your captors will be pursued by some of ours. It is all
arranged. They will ask the Turks to admit them, and if the latter
have not learned of your father's escape, perhaps they will do so.
Once in, our men will try to open the gate. The chances are against
them, poor fellows! but they are all volunteers, and will die
fighting. If they win out, great glory will be theirs."
"The moon does not rise to-night till just before midnight, so we
have plenty of time. We shall start from here at ten. If all be
well, I shall place you in the Tower with your father in less than a
quarter-hour from that. A few minutes will suffice to clothe him in
bullet-proof and get on his belt. I shall not be away from the Tower
more than a very few minutes, and, please God, long before eleven we
shall be safe. Then the Tower can be won in an attack by our
mountaineers. Perhaps, when the guns are heard on the ship of war--
for there is sure to be firing--the Captain may try to land a shore
party. But Rooke will stand in the way, and if I know the man and
The Lady, we shall not be troubled with many Turks to-night. By
midnight you and your father can be on the way to Vissarion. I can
interview the naval Captain in the morning."
My wife's marvellous courage and self-possession stood to her. At
half an hour before the time fixed she was ready for our adventure.
She had improved the scheme in one detail. She had put on her own
belt and coiled the rope round her waist, so the only delay would be
in bringing her father's belt. She would keep the bullet-proof dress
intended to be his strapped in a packet on her back, so that if
occasion should be favourable he would not want to put it on till he
and she should have reached the platform of the aeroplane. In such
case, I should not steer away from the Tower at all, but would pass
slowly across it and take up the captive and his brave daughter
before leaving. I had learned from local sources that the Tower was
in several stories. Entrance was by the foot, where the great iron-
clad door was; then came living-rooms and storage, and an open space
at the top. This would probably be thought the best place for the
prisoner, for it was deep-sunk within the massive walls, wherein was
no loophole of any kind. This, if it should so happen, would be the
disposition of things best for our plan. The guards would at this
time be all inside the Tower--probably resting, most of them--so that
it was possible that no one might notice the coming of the airship.
I was afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in such
case our task would be a simple enough one, and would in all human
probability be crowned with success.
At ten o'clock we started. Teuta did not show the smallest sign of
fear or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had even
seen an aeroplane at work. She proved to be an admirable passenger
for an airship. She stayed quite still, holding herself rigidly in
the position arranged, by the cords which I had fixed for her.
When I had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit
by the Tiny my electric light in the dark box, I had time to look
about me. All seemed quite dark wherever I looked--to land, or sea,
or sky. But darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot
looked dark in turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole.
I could tell the difference, for instance, between land and sea, no
matter how far off we might be from either. Looking upward, the sky
was dark; yet there was light enough to see, and even distinguish
broad effects. I had no difficulty in distinguishing the Tower
towards which we were moving, and that, after all, was the main
thing. We drifted slowly, very slowly, as the air was still, and I
only used the minimum pressure necessary for the engine. I think I
now understood for the first time the extraordinary value of the
engine with which my Kitson was equipped. It was noiseless, it was
practically of no weight, and it allowed the machine to progress as
easily as the old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze.
Teuta, who had naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better
than I did, for as we drew nearer to the Tower, and its round, open
top began to articulate itself, she commenced to prepare for her part
of the task. She it was who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for
her lowering. We were proceeding so gently that she as well as I had
hopes that I might be able to actually balance the machine on the top
of the curving wall--a thing manifestly impossible on a straight
surface, though it might have been possible on an angle.
On we crept--on, and on! There was no sign of light about the Tower,
and not the faintest sound to be heard till we were almost close to
the line of the rising wall; then we heard a sound of something like
mirth, but muffled by distance and thick walls. From it we took
fresh heart, for it told us that our enemies were gathered in the
lower chambers. If only the Voivode should be on the upper stage,
all would be well.
Slowly, almost inch by inch, and with a suspense that was agonizing,
we crossed some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wall. I
could see as we came near the jagged line of white patches where the
heads of the massacred Turks placed there on spikes in old days
seemed to give still their grim warning. Seeing that they made in
themselves a difficulty of landing on the wall, I deflected the plane
so that, as we crept over the wall, we might, if they became
displaced, brush them to the outside of the wall. A few seconds
more, and I was able to bring the machine to rest with the front of
the platform jutting out beyond the Tower wall. Here I anchored her
fore and aft with clamps which had been already prepared.
Whilst I was doing so Teuta had leaned over the inner edge of the
platform, and whispered as softly as the sigh of a gentle breeze
"Hist! hist!" The answer came in a similar sound from some twenty
feet below us, and we knew that the prisoner was alone. Forthwith,
having fixed the hook of the rope in the ring to which was attached
her belt, I lowered my wife. Her father evidently knew her whisper,
and was ready. The hollow Tower--a smooth cylinder within--sent up
the voices from it faint as were the whispers:
"Father, it is I--Teuta!"
"My child, my brave daughter!"
"Quick, father; strap the belt round you. See that it is secure. We
have to be lifted into the air if necessary. Hold together. It will
be easier for Rupert to lift us to the airship."
"Rupert?"
"Yes; I shall explain later. Quick, quick! There is not a moment to
lose. He is enormously strong, and can lift us together; but we must
help him by being still, so he won't have to use the windlass, which
might creak." As she spoke she jerked slightly at the rope, which
was our preconcerted signal that I was to lift. I was afraid the
windlass might creak, and her thoughtful hint decided me. I bent my
back to the task, and in a few seconds they were on the platform on
which they, at Teuta's suggestion, lay flat, one at each side of my
seat, so as to keep the best balance possible.
I took off the clamps, lifted the bags of ballast to the top of the
wall, so that there should be no sound of falling, and started the
engine. The machine moved forward a few inches, so that it tilted
towards the outside of the wall. I threw my weight on the front part
of the platform, and we commenced our downward fall at a sharp angle.
A second enlarged the angle, and without further ado we slid away
into the darkness. Then, ascending as we went, when the engine began
to work at its strength, we turned, and presently made straight for
Ilsin.
The journey was short--not many minutes. It almost seemed as if no
time whatever had elapsed till we saw below us the gleam of lights,
and by them saw a great body of men gathered in military array. We
slackened and descended. The crowd kept deathly silence, but when we
were amongst them we needed no telling that it was not due to lack of
heart or absence of joy. The pressure of their hands as they
surrounded us, and the devotion with which they kissed the hands and
feet of both the Voivode and his daughter, were evidence enough for
me, even had I not had my own share of their grateful rejoicing.
In the midst of it all the low, stern voice of Rooke, who had burst a
way to the front beside the Vladika, said:
"Now is the time to attack the Tower. Forward, brothers, but in
silence. Let there not be a sound till you are near the gate; then
play your little comedy of the escaping marauders. And 'twill be no
comedy for them in the Tower. The yacht is all ready for the
morning, Mr. Sent Leger, in case I do not come out of the scrimmage
if the bluejackets arrive. In such case you will have to handle her
yourself. God keep you, my Lady; and you, too, Voivode! Forward!"
In a ghostly silence the grim little army moved forwards. Rooke and
the men with him disappeared into the darkness in the direction of
the harbour of Ilsin.
