The Syren of the Skies & The Angel of the Revolution (Two Dystopian Novels). Griffith George Chetwynd

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The Syren of the Skies & The Angel of the Revolution (Two Dystopian Novels) - Griffith George Chetwynd

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all round the western and southern shores of Europe.

      As soon as Natas had been conveyed into the saloon, Tremayne, after returning Arnold’s hearty handclasp, said to him —

      “That rascally Frenchman chased and fired on us, and then sent his torpedo-boat after us, without the slightest provocation. I purposely hoisted the Yacht Squadron flag to show that we were non-combatants, and still he sank us. I suppose he took the Lurline for a fast despatch boat, but still he ought to have had the sense and the politeness to let her alone when he saw she was a yacht, so I want you to teach him better manners.”

      “Certainly,” replies Arnold. “I’ll sink him for you in five seconds as soon as we get aloft again.”

      “I don’t want you to do that if you can help it. She has five or six hundred men on board, who are only doing as they are told, and we have not declared war on the world yet. Can’t you disable her, and force her to surrender to the British cruiser that came to our rescue? You know we must have been sunk or captured half an hour ago if she had not turned up so opportunely, in spite of your so happily coming fifty miles this side of the rendezvous. I should like to return the compliment by delivering his enemy into his hand.”

      “I quite see what you mean, but I’m afraid I can’t guarantee success. You see, our artillery is intended for destruction, and not for disablement. Still I’ll have a try with pleasure. I’ll see if I can’t disable his screws, only you mustn’t blame me if he goes to the bottom by accident.”

      “Certainly not, you most capable destroyer of life and property,” laughed Tremayne. “Only let him off as lightly as you can. Ah, Natasha! Good morning again! I suppose Natas has taken no harm from the unceremonious way in which I had to almost throw him on board the boat. Aërial voyaging seems to agree with you, you”—

      “Must not talk nonsense, my Lord of Alanmere, especially when there is sterner work in hand,” interrupted Natasha, with a laugh. “What are you going to do with those two cruisers that are battering each other to pieces down there? Sink them both, or leave them to fight it out?”

      “Neither, with your permission, fair lady. The British cruiser saved us by coming on the scene at the right moment, and as the Frenchman fired upon us without due cause, I want Captain Arnold to disable her in some way and hand her over a prisoner to our rescuer.”

      “Ah, that would be better, of course. One good turn deserves another. What are you going to do, Captain Arnold?”

      “Drop a small shell under his stern and disable his propellers, if I can do so without sinking him, which I am afraid is rather doubtful,” replied Arnold.

      While they were talking, the Ithuriel had risen a thousand feet or so from the water, and had advanced to within about half a mile of the two cruisers, which were now manoeuvring round each other at a distance of about a thousand yards, blazing away without cessation, and waiting for some lucky shot to partially disable one or the other, and so give an opportunity for boarding, or ramming.

      In the old days, when France and Britain had last grappled in the struggle for the mastery of the sea, the two ships would have been laid alongside each other long before this. But that was not to be thought of while those terrible machine guns were able to rain their hail of death down from the tops, and the quick-firing cannon were hurling their thirty shots a minute across the intervening space of water.

      The French cruiser had so far taken no notice of the sudden annihilation of her second torpedo-boat by the air-ship, but as soon as the latter made her way astern of her she seemed to scent mischief, and turned one of her three-barrelled Nordenfeldts on to her. The shots soon came singing about the Ithuriel in somewhat unpleasant proximity, and Arnold said —

      “Monsieur seems to take us for a natural enemy, and if he wants fight he shall have it. If I don’t disable him with this shot I’ll sink him with the next.”

      So saying he trained one of the broadside guns on the stern of the French cruiser, and at the right moment pressed the button. The shell bored its way through the air and down into the water until it struck and exploded against the submerged rudder.

      A huge column of foam rose up under the cruiser’s stern; half lifted out of the water, she plunged forward with a mighty lurch, burying her forecastle in the green water, and then she righted and lay helpless upon the sea, deprived of the power of motion and steering, and with the useless steam roaring in great clouds from her pipes. A moment later she began to settle by the stern, showing that her after plates had been badly injured, if not torn away by the explosion.

      Meanwhile the Ithuriel had shot away out of range until the two cruisers looked like little toy-ships spitting fire at each other, and Arnold said to Tremayne, who was with him in the wheel-house —

      “I think that has settled her, as far as any more real fighting is concerned. Look! She can’t stand that sort of thing very long.”

      He handed Tremayne the glasses as he spoke. The French cruiser was lying motionless upon the water, with her after compartments full, and very much down by the stern. She was still blazing away gamely with all her available guns, but it was obvious at a glance that she was now no match for her antagonist, who had taken full advantage of the help rendered by her unknown ally, and was pouring a perfect hail of shot and shell point-blank into her half-disabled adversary, battering her deck-works into ruins, and piercing her hull again and again.

      At length, when the splendid fabric had been reduced to little better than a floating wreck by the terrible cannonade, the fire from the British cruiser stopped, and the signal “Will you surrender?” flew from her masthead.

      A few moments later the tricolor, for the first time in the war, dipped to the White Ensign, and the naval duel was over.

      “Now we will leave them to talk it over,” said Tremayne, shutting the glasses. “I should like to hear what they have to say about us, I must confess, but there is something more important to be done, and the sooner we are on the other side of the Atlantic the better. The Aurania started from New York this morning. How soon can you get across?”

      “In about sixteen hours if we had to go all the way,” replied Arnold. “It is, say, three thousand miles from here to New York, and the Ithuriel can fly two hundred miles an hour if necessary. But the Aurania, if she starts in good time, will make between four and five hundred miles during the day, and so we ought to meet her soon after sundown this evening if we are lucky.”

      As Arnold ceased speaking, the report of a single gun came up from the water, and a string of signal flags floated out from the masthead of the British cruiser.

      “Hullo!” said Tremayne, once more turning the glasses on the two vessels, “that was a blank cartridge, and as far as I can make out that signal reads, ‘We want to speak you.’ And look: there goes a white flag to the fore. His intentions are evidently peaceful. What do you say, shall we go down?”

      “I see no objection to it. It will only make a difference of half an hour or so, and perhaps we may learn something worth knowing from the captain about the naval force afloat in the Atlantic. I think it would be worth while. We have no need for concealment now; and besides, all Europe is talking about us, so there can be no harm in showing ourselves a bit more closely.”

      “Very well, then, we will go down and hear what he has to say,” replied Tremayne. “But I don’t think it would be well for me to show myself just now, and so I will go below.”

      Arnold at once signalled the

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