CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

RETRIBUTION OVERTAKES KING M'BONGWELE.

King M'Bongwele had evidently been keenly on the watch for the return of the four prisoners, for they had scarcely had time to enter their hut when the monarch presented himself before them, and, with some little impatience of manner, began his interrogations with the single word:

"Well?"

"We can cure them," briefly answered the professor.

"Good!" ejaculated the king, his impatience yielding to almost childish delight. "When is the cure to be performed?"

"Within one span of the sun's journey through the sky after we have administered a certain medicine, which we must procure from the ship. Provide us each with a horse to go and fetch this medicine, and I promise you, that before you see the stars to-night those women shall be in as full possession of their reason as you are."

"No," said the king, eyeing the professor keenly, "I will arrange better than that. You shall tell Lualamba where to find this wonderful medicine, and he shall fetch it for you."

"That will not do at all," answered the professor. "Lualamba could never find the medicine; he could not even gain access to the ship. We must fetch it ourselves."

M'Bongwele rested his chin in his hand for some minutes, pondering deeply. Then he rose to his feet and stalked out of the hut again without vouchsafing a word, either "yea" or "nay."

"He is not quite such a fool as he looks," was the baronet's sole comment upon this strange behaviour, and then they sat down to luncheon.

The king, upon re-entering his palace, at once sent for Lualamba, and, upon that chief making his appearance, issued strict orders that every available man, woman, and child, not only in the village but in the entire district, should be mustered by noon next day, to make one grand and final attempt to move the ship to the village, pending which the king decided to hold no further communications with his prisoners. The attempt was made in due course, and, like the others, it proved, as might be expected, a miserable failure. Poor M'Bongwele was now completely at a loss; he knew not what to do. He was most anxious to have the white women cured; but he had a powerful presentiment that if those singular beings, whom he certainly to some extent had in his power, once again set foot upon that curious thing they called a "ship," his power over them would be gone for ever. And in such a case he felt that his fate was certain; he had laid unholy hands upon them, and dire would be his punishment. No; he was convinced that at all costs they must be debarred from access to that terrible "ship," unless he could first of all gain their forgiveness, amity, and good-will, and interest them in his fortunes to the extent of securing their active co-operation in his schemes of conquest and aggrandisement. How to do this was, however, the question which puzzled king M'Bongwele; and it puzzled him so long that—but stay, we must not forestall the story.

Thus engaged in a futile endeavour to discover a way out of his dilemma, the king kept himself strictly secluded in his palace day after day, allowing no one access to him unless upon business of the utmost urgency and importance. Meanwhile, Seketulo, deeming the period a favourable one for the furtherance of his own schemes, first exhibited an increased amount of precaution in the proper posting of the guard over the prisoners, and then a gradually growing disposition to converse with the prisoners themselves. From this he proceeded to develop an interest, which, after a suitable lapse of time, was allowed to merge into anxiety for their welfare and greater comfort, and, finding these cautious advances well received, he then set to work in real earnest upon the delicate task of unfolding his proposals. He was so very cautious, however, and took so long a time about this, that he missed his opportunity altogether, and that, too, through a very simple accident.

It happened one night that, after an unusually long, disjointed, and desultory conversation with this same chief, Mildmay failed to get to sleep with his usual promptitude, and he lay tossing restlessly upon his pallet until he became impatient and finally exasperated at his want of success. The hut felt hot and stuffy to the verge of suffocation, and the lieutenant at length came to the conclusion that there was no hope of his getting to sleep until he had taken a turn or two up and down the compound, in the comparatively cool night air.

He accordingly scrambled to his feet, and, groping his way in the intense darkness, made for the verandah. Here he paused for a moment, glancing upward to the sky, which he found to be obscured by a dense canopy of heavy black cloud, portending rain, which sufficiently accounted for the pitchy darkness. His eyes at length becoming accustomed to the obscurity, he looked round for the guard; and he eventually discovered the various members faithfully occupying their posts, but, one and all, squatted upon the ground evidently fast asleep. He stalked out toward the centre of the compound and took two or three turns up and down its length, his footsteps falling noiselessly upon the light sandy soil, and not one of the savages manifested the slightest consciousness of his presence. Then he gradually extended his walk until he reached the gate in the palisade, and here too the guard was fast asleep. An idea presented itself to him; and he was about to make an attempt to noiselessly remove the bars and open the gate, when prudence suggested another and a better plan. He tiptoed lightly back to the hut, and, gently awakening each of his companions in turn, whispered in their ears:

"Up at once! There is an opportunity for us to effect our escape!"

The aroused sleepers instinctively comprehended the situation and sprang to their feet. Another minute, and four shadowy shapes stole noiselessly across the compound, to vanish almost instantly in the deeper shadows of the palisading. The closed gate was reached and passed, and presently the fugitives found themselves in the angle of the compound most distant from the slumbering guard. Here Mildmay offered a "back" to the baronet, whispering:

"You go first."

Without a word Sir Reginald complied, clambering first upon his companion's back and thence noiselessly to the top of the palisading. In another second a faint thud on the outside told that the first adventurer had successfully scaled the barrier. "You go next," whispered Mildmay to the colonel, "and remain on the top of the palisade to give the professor a hand."

Up went the colonel, and up after him went the professor. The latter, with the baronet's assistance from below on the outside, accomplished his descent in safety; and then the colonel, reaching as far down as he could, assisted Mildmay to the top. The rest was easy; and a minute later they were cautiously making their way up the road to the top end of the village, or that which was most thinly inhabited. At this moment down came the rain, a regular tropical deluge, which was undoubtedly a most fortunate circumstance for the fugitives, as they could otherwise have scarcely hoped to escape the vigilance of the numerous prowling curs belonging to the village, who, as it was, were driven by the rain to take refuge in their masters' huts.

Five minutes sufficed the travellers to reach the stout lofty palisade which inclosed the village; and this, the framework all being on the inner side, they were easily enabled to surmount. Once outside this obstacle, Mildmay assumed the leadership, confidently declaring his ability to find the ship, though he had only once before, consciously, passed over the ground between the village and the ruins.

The party made their way in the first place along the outer side of the palisading until they reached the main entrance gate to the village; and from this point Mildmay "took his departure." A well-defined pathway led for some distance down into the plain, and this they traversed until the lieutenant believed he had reached the point at which to turn off. Here he paused for a full minute, looking about him and peering into the darkness. The rain was still pelting down, though not so heavily as at first; and away to the eastward the clouds were already beginning to break, allowing a star to peep through here and there. At length Mildmay thought he had got his bearings right; and, selecting a star to steer by, away he plunged into the long thick wet grass, his companions following closely behind. A few minutes later the rain ceased, the clouds vanished from the sky, and the stars shone calmly out in all their beauty, affording an ample sufficiency of light to distinctly reveal to the wayfarers the nearer clumps of bush, trees, and other large objects. Mildmay now paused again, and, shading his eyes with his hand, once more keenly surveyed the horizon.

"All right," he murmured. "We are going just right, I believe. I can indistinctly make out something away there on the horizon, just ahead, which I feel certain must be the ruins. Come along, my hearties; heave ahead!"

Again they pushed forward, dripping wet, drenched to the skin with the recent shower, and stumbling every now and then as their feet became entangled in the long matted grass; now swerving to the right to avoid a clump of bush, then to the left for the same purpose; but ever keeping one particular star, low down on the horizon, as nearly straight ahead as possible. Though the rest of the party felt themselves utterly lost, without the faintest notion of where they were going, and though neither of them could distinguish anything even remotely resembling the ruins, Mildmay still persisted that he was right; and he continued to press rapidly forward, the rest following him, since they could do no better. At length they struck a narrow path through the grass, and Mildmay at once announced his intention of following it.

"It is a little off our course," he said, "but the walking is so much easier here that we shall gain more than we shall lose by following it; and I should not be surprised to find that it leads to the ruins."

Half an hour later a brilliant star suddenly appeared in the dense darkness ahead. It shone steadily for nearly a minute, disappeared, and almost instantly appeared again.

"Hurrah!" ejaculated the lieutenant joyously, "there is the ship's light. Now we know that we are right. Another hour's tramp will, if all be well, take us alongside. How I wish I had a pipe of tobacco!"

"Don't mention it!" fervently ejaculated the professor, who was an ardent lover of the weed. "However, in another hour, as you say—ah!"

The professor's "ah!" was so very expressive of anticipated pleasure that his companions with one accord burst into a hearty laugh, which, however, was abruptly cut short by a low savage growl and a sudden rustling in the grass close by.

"What was that?" was the simultaneous inquiry as the party came abruptly to a dead halt.

"Push on, push on!" urged the professor. "It is some nocturnal animal prowling in search of prey. At this moment he is more frightened than we are; but if we wait here until he has regained his courage he will perhaps spring on one of us."

The march was accordingly resumed, with perhaps some little precipitation; and at length Mildmay's companions began to be conscious of the presence of certain shapeless blotches of blackness rising up against the sky ahead of them and occasionally obscuring for a few seconds the now brilliant light which gleamed from the top of the Flying Fish's pilot-house. These shapeless blotches of blackness increased in size with almost startling rapidity; and in a few minutes the travellers, still following the footpath, found themselves in the midst of them, winding in and out between great blocks of masonry which suddenly rose up in front of them in the darkness, and stumbling over loose boulders and fragments of stone. At length they found themselves in the clear open space occupied by the Flying Fish; and in another quarter of an hour the party passed into the black tunnel formed by the bilge-keel and the side of the ship, and began to feel with their feet for the open trap-door. This was soon reached; the party entered the opening, closed the flap, and, with a murmured "Thank God, we are safe at last!" began to feel for the button which was to open the door giving access to the interior proper of the ship. Another second and this door swung open, and the party found themselves at the foot of the cylindrical staircase, in the full blaze of the electric lamps.

"Now," said the baronet, "ten minutes in which to strip, rub down, and don dry garments, and then we will be off to the rescue of those poor women, after which I think we must give our friend M'Bongwele a salutary lesson on the evil and impolicy of treachery."

The allotted ten minutes had not quite expired when the professor, the last of the party, made his appearance in the pilot-house, by which time the Flying Fish was some five hundred feet in the air, with her nose pointing in the direction of M'Bongwele's village, and her propeller driving her ahead at full speed. The electric lights of the ship were all called into requisition for the illumination of the landscape, producing a weird and ghostlike effect as the trees and clumps of bush first caught the light and then brightened into full radiance as they flashed past, to instantly fade again into obscurity. A startled howl or two smote upon the ears of the travellers, and the forms of hastily retreating animals were momentarily caught sight of; but all eyes were intently directed ahead in anxious expectancy of catching sight of the village, and presently it came into view. The speed was at once reduced and the vessel's flight directed earthward, and in another moment she dashed through the palisade, shivering the principal entrance gate to splinters, and (as was intended) frightening the guard clean out of their senses. With one shrill, piercing scream of terror, as they caught sight of the dazzling bow lights of the ship, the sable warriors took to their heels and vanished in the darkness, whilst the Flying Fish was dexterously brought to earth close alongside the hut tenanted by Mrs Scott and her nieces. That appalling yell effectually awakened the entire occupants of the hut; and whilst they were sitting up on their pallets, rubbing their eyes and wondering what the terrible sound might portend, the portiere was pushed aside and the professor, bearing a hand-lamp, unceremoniously made his appearance before them with an earnest request that they would dress with all speed and join him on the outside of the hut, where he would await them, the hour of their deliverance having arrived.

A quarter of an hour later the bewildered ladies were conducted by von Schalckenberg in through the trapdoor in the bottom of the Flying Fish and up the cylindrical staircase to the saloon, where they were warmly welcomed by the other three gentlemen, who, after a few congratulatory remarks on their fortunate escape, retired to secure and convey on board the boxes containing the remainder of their guests' wardrobes. This done, Mrs Scott and her nieces were conducted to the cabins assigned for their use, and the gentlemen then retreated to the pilot-house, where, over a keenly enjoyed pipe, a hasty council was held as to what should be done with M'Bongwele.

This question was settled just as the first faint streaks of approaching dawn began to brighten the eastern horizon, when the ship was moved up into the great square before the king's house, where the whole of the king's body-guard were drawn up under arms, and, beyond them, the remaining inhabitants of the village, a dense, surging, excited, squabbling crowd.

On the approach of the Flying Fish the latter flung themselves face downwards, in abject terror, to the ground, and the armed and mounted warriors betrayed a disposition to stampede which was only with the utmost difficulty checked and restrained by Seketulo. Even this chief found himself unable to wholly conceal the feeling of nervousness which agitated him; but he in this trying moment enjoyed a consciousness, unshared by any other man there present, of having done his best to make the erstwhile prisoners comfortable.

As the huge ship settled quietly down in the centre of the great square a profound and deathlike silence suddenly succeeded the confused babbling sound which had hitherto prevailed, and when the four travellers stepped out from the pilot-house to the deck and appeared at the gangway a visible shudder ran through the entire concourse of people there assembled. They dreaded they knew not what, and their fears were only in a very trifling degree allayed by the promise of intercession on their behalf which Seketulo had made to them.

The professor was of course to be spokesman for the occasion; it was he, therefore, who broke the terrible silence by exclaiming, in a loud, commanding tone of voice:

"Seketulo, we are your friends. Advance, therefore, and listen to the commands which we are about to lay upon you!"

The reassured and now happy chief struck with his spurred heels the sides of his charger, and the animal, bounding and caracoling, advanced to within a few yards of the ship's side, where his rider dismounted and, with bowed head and bended knee, waited for such communication as might be vouchsafed him.

"Listen, O Seketulo!" continued the professor. "We entered this country animated by feelings of the most amicable nature to its king and to every one of its inhabitants. We showed this by distributing presents of beads, cloth, and other matters when Lualamba and his warriors first visited us. And we asked for nothing in return save permission to examine and explore the ruins on yonder plain; offering to pay promptly and liberally for whatever assistance we might need. Is not this the truth?"

"It is, O most mighty wizard," answered Seketulo humbly; some of the braver warriors also venturing to murmur:

"It is! It is!"

"And how have we been treated?" asked the professor. "Your king, not satisfied with our friendship and the presents we gave him, wickedly and treacherously devised a scheme to get us into his power—a scheme which, in order to try him, we permitted to succeed. And, having done that, he further attempted to gain possession of this ship,"—this fact having leaked out in Seketulo's previous conversations—"profanely and audaciously thinking he could subdue her to his will and control her as we do. Now, therefore, be it understood by all present that, for his base treachery, M'Bongwele is dethroned, and Seketulo will, from this moment, reign in his stead. Let a detachment of the guard enter the palace and bring M'Bongwele forth to hear his sentence!"

In an instant Lualamba—anxious above all things to please the powers that be, and having, moreover, in revengeful remembrance many little gratuitous slights and insults which he had suffered at the king's hands—dismounted a squadron of the guard, and, surrounding the palace, himself entered the building at the head of half a dozen men. Two or three minutes later the party reappeared with the dethroned monarch in their midst. They advanced until almost level with the spot occupied by Seketulo, when, at a sign from the professor, they halted; the guards disposing themselves round M'Bongwele in such a manner that, whilst to escape was an utter impossibility, he could still see and hear the individual who, perched far aloft in the gangway of the ship, was about to address him.

M'Bongwele never, perhaps, looked more kingly than whilst he thus stood to receive his sentence of dethronement. He was fully conscious of his treacherous behaviour to his guests, but he felt no shame thereat, for he had been schooled in the belief that treachery, falsehood, ay, even deliberate, cold-blooded murder, was perfectly justifiable in the pursuit of power. His only feeling was that he had played a bold game for a high stake and had lost it. The moment of reckoning had now arrived, the penalty of failure had to be paid, and though he knew not what that penalty might be—though his brain was teeming with all sorts of possible and impossible horrors—he never for a moment forgot that he was a monarch, that the eyes of his people were on him, noting his every look and gesture, and he summoned all his fortitude to his aid, in order that, since fall he must, he should fall as becomes a king.

So there he stood in the bright sunlight of the early morning—an unarmed man, surrounded by those who, whilst they would yesterday have poured out their heart's blood at his command, were now prepared to hew him in pieces at the bidding of a white-skinned stranger—with arms folded across the muscular naked chest which throbbed visibly with the intensity of his hardly repressed emotions, his head thrown back, his brows knitted, his lips firmly closed over his rigidly set teeth, and his eyes unquailingly fixed upon the group of white men whom he recognised and tacitly acknowledged as his conquerors and judges. And when the sentence of dethronement, separation from his family, and instant banishment for life from his country, was pronounced upon him, he offered no plea for pardon or mitigation of his punishment; he urged nothing in extenuation or justification of his conduct, but simply bowed his head in token of his submission to the inevitable, and begged a respite of a few minutes in which to bid farewell to his family before setting out upon his journey to the frontier, whither he was to be escorted by a small well-armed party, in whom Seketulo knew he could place implicit trust.

This somewhat painful scene over, the troops and people there present were required to swear allegiance and fidelity to their new king, which they readily did with all the formalities customary among them on such occasions; after which the crown of gold and feathers worn by M'Bongwele was brought forward and placed upon Seketulo's head; and the new king was then invited on board the ship to confer with—and in reality to receive instructions respecting his future policy and conduct from—the men who had raised him to the supreme dignity. The advice—given with sufficient firmness and emphasis to constitute a command—comprised many valuable hints for the wise and humane government of the nation, and was concluded with a powerful exhortation to treat with fairness, justice, humanity, and hospitality all strangers who might be brought by accident or otherwise into the country; to succour, nourish, and carefully protect them from molestation or spoliation of any and every kind whilst within its borders; and to afford them every help and facility to leave whensoever they might desire. And, finally, a satisfactory arrangement was made whereby the baronet and his companions were enabled to continue and complete their exploration and examination of the ruins.

The Flying Fish and her inmates remained in the country for rather more than three months from that date; quite long enough to satisfy the party that they had really acted wisely, and for the benefit of the nation, in deposing M'Bongwele; and long enough to enable them to make several most surprising and interesting discoveries among the ruins— discoveries which it is not necessary to describe or particularise here, since the professor has prepared, and is now revising for the press, an elaborate and exhaustive treatise upon the subject.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

AN ADVENTURE ON THE TOP OF MOUNT EVEREST.

Leaving the country at last—to the very great regret of the inhabitants, who found that every little service rendered to the white strangers was munificently rewarded by a present of beads, buttons, party-coloured cloth, or perhaps a small hand mirror—the travellers made the best of their way to Bombay, at which place Mrs Scott and her nieces were anxious to be landed, and there they bade their fair guests a reluctant adieu. Thence, starting under cover of night and rising to a height of about ten thousand feet above the ground surface, the travellers made their way across the Indian peninsula in a north- easterly direction, travelling at a speed of about one hundred miles per hour, and arriving about eight o'clock the next morning at the foot of Mount Everest, the summit of which—towering into the sky to the enormous altitude of twenty-nine thousand feet above the sea-level, and believed to be the most lofty spot of earth on the surface of our globe—they intended attempting to reach.

Here, on a magnificent grassy plateau surrounded by trees, and with not a single sign of human life at hand, the Flying Fish was brought to earth and temporarily secured whilst the party took breakfast.

"Now," said the professor as they rose from the breakfast-table, "in seeking to plant our feet upon the topmost peak of Mount Everest we are about to enter upon a task of no ordinary difficulty and danger, and it is desirable that no avoidable risks should be run. The danger arises from two causes—the excessive cold, and the highly rarefied state of the atmosphere at so enormous an elevation. The first can be guarded against by suitable clothing; the second can only be overcome by the assumption of our diving dresses. The latter, no doubt, seems to you a strange precaution; but it is a fact, that on the top of Mount Everest the air is too thin to support life, at all events in comfort, and for any but the briefest possible time; so we must take up our air with us. Let us therefore go and make these necessary changes of costume before we attempt moving the ship from her present position."

Half an hour later, the party, accoutred in their diving armour—between which and their ordinary clothing they had interposed stout warm flannel overalls—and armed with small ice-hatchets, mustered in the pilot- house; the ship was released from the ground, a vacuum created in her air-chambers, and upward she at once shot into the clear blue cloudless sky. A few minutes only sufficed her to soar to the height of ten thousand feet, after which her progress upward, as indicated by the steadily falling column of mercury in the tube of the barometer, gradually decreased in velocity. At the height of twenty-nine thousand feet the mercury ceased to fall, or the ship ceased to rise, which amounted to the same thing, and Mount Everest lay before them, its snowy peak glistening in the sun ten miles away, and its topmost pinnacle still towering somewhere about five hundred feet above the line of their horizon.

"Well," said the professor, remarking upon their failure to attain a greater altitude, "I anticipated this; I was quite prepared to find that here, where the sun is so much more nearly vertical than it is with us in England, we should meet with a more rarefied atmosphere. However, we cannot help it. We must do what we can; and if we fail to reach the summit we shall simply be obliged to descend again, rid ourselves temporarily of a few of our more weighty matters, and then renew the attempt. Perhaps we may be enabled to force her up that remaining five hundred feet by the power of her engines. Let us try."

The engines were sent ahead at full speed, and the Flying Fish rushed toward the glittering peak, the professor so adjusting the helm as to give the ship's bows a slight upward inclination. The experiment resulted in partial success, an additional elevation of some two hundred feet being attained, but beyond that it was found impossible to go; even then it was necessary to keep the ship moving at full speed, and to maintain the upward inclination of her bows, in order to preserve the slight additional height gained, her tendency being to sink immediately upon any relaxation of speed. It was resolved to be satisfied with this, to effect a landing somewhere, and to attempt surmounting the remaining three hundred feet by climbing. A landing-place was next sought for, and this was at length found on the northern side of the mountain, on a sidelong slanting snow-bank, which seemed to have accumulated between two projecting crags. It was by no means a desirable spot on which to effect a landing, the area of the bank being very small, and the surface sloping most awkwardly; however, it was the best place the travellers could find, and they were therefore obliged to rest content with it; so the ship was headed toward it, and in another second or two a harsh grating sound, accompanied by an upward surge, showed that she had taken the ground, or rather the snow-bank. The engines were then stopped, and the grip-anchors brought into requisition to secure her in her somewhat precarious berth.

"Well, here we are," exclaimed the baronet; "and the next thing, I suppose, is to land and commence our climb without loss of time. What a wild-looking spot it is, to be sure; if I were to stand looking at it long I believe I should lose my nerve and shirk the task."

"Better not look at it any longer, then, until we can contemplate the prospect from the peak away up aloft there," remarked the practical Mildmay. "But," he continued, "I don't half like the idea of going out upon that sloping slippery surface of frozen snow that the ship has grounded upon; a single slip or false step and away one would go over the edge, to bring up, perhaps, on a rock a thousand feet below. I shall hook on the rope-ladder, and endeavour to make a start from yonder naked spur of rock."

The others also seemed to think this the wisest plan, and in a few minutes they were making their way cautiously down the rope-ladder one after the other, the baronet, an experienced mountaineer, leading, and Mildmay bringing up the rear.

The adventurers soon found that their task was likely to be a great deal more difficult and hazardous than they had at all contemplated. The snow-bank upon which the Flying Fish rested proved to be the only even approximately level spot at that elevation; the rocks rising almost sheer above them everywhere, with only an occasional crevice here and there by way of foothold, and in many places the precipice was coated with treacherous frozen snow, sometimes tenacious enough to afford a momentary support, but more often crumbling away beneath the weight of the body. Slowly and steadily, however, they worked their way upward— now occupying perhaps five minutes to advance as many feet, and anon hitting upon a favourable spot where twenty or thirty feet might be gained in a single minute. At length, after a toilsome and hazardous climb of more than an hour's duration, the baronet found himself clinging to a slender pinnacle of rock about seven feet high and four feet in diameter, upon the top of which he next moment triumphantly seated himself. The colonel, the professor, and Mildmay speedily followed, and there they sat, undoubtedly the first human beings who had ever reached the topmost pinnacle of Mount Everest.

Having accomplished the ascent, they now settled themselves down as comfortably as they could upon their narrow perch to enjoy at leisure the magnificent view spread out around them, a view such as no human eye had ever before looked upon, and which even they would probably never have another opportunity of beholding. The atmosphere, most fortunately, was exceptionally clear and transparent, not a vestige of cloud or vapour being anywhere visible; the view was therefore unobstructed to the very verge of the horizon, which extended round them in a gigantic circle measuring four hundred and eighteen miles in diameter.

Northward of them stretched the vast plains of Thibet, the only object worthy of notice being the river Sampoo, which, although sixty miles distant, was distinctly seen as it issued from the purplish-grey haze of the extreme distance on their left, meandering along the plain beneath for a visible distance of nearly two hundred miles before its course became again lost in the haze on their right hand. Eight and left of them stretched the vast mountain chain of the Himalayas, their wooded slopes and countless peaks and cones presenting a bewildering yet charming picture of variegated colour, sunlight and shadow, as they dwindled away on either hand until all suggestion of local colouring was swallowed up and lost in an enchanting succession of increasingly pure and delicate soft pearly greys, which merged and melted at last into the vague shapeless all-pervading purple-grey of the horizon. Glancing immediately around and beneath them their blood curdled and their brains whirled with the vertigo which seized them as they peered appalled and shrinkingly down upon the sharp crags, the sheer precipices, the steeply-sloping snow-fields with their lower edges generally overhanging some fathomless abyss, the great glaciers, the awful crevasses spanned here and there by crumbling snow bridges—the effect of the scene being heightened and intensified in its impressive grandeur by the deathlike silence which prevailed, broken only by the occasional thunderous roar of an avalanche far below. The scene was absolutely fascinating in its appalling sublimity; but it was a relief to turn the eye further afield until it rested to the eastward upon the grandly towering mass of Everest's rival, snow-capped Kunchinjinga, which reared its giant crest aloft to a height of twenty-eight thousand five hundred feet above the sea-level, and which, though it was eighty-five miles away, appeared to be almost within rifle-shot. And still more was it a relief to turn the eye in an opposite direction, and to allow it to rest upon the glittering summit of Dhawalagiri, which, at a distance of no less than two hundred and forty miles, gleamed faint and softly opalescent out of the western haze. And, lastly, to the southward of them they beheld the fertile province of Nepaul, watered by countless tributaries to the mighty Ganges; and, beyond it again, the still more fertile province of Oudh. The professor, totally forgetful of his exceedingly perilous position, was enthusiastically expatiating, after his usual manner, upon the marvellous extent and beauty of the prospect, and interrupting the flow of his eloquence at short intervals to assure his companions that a—to them—invisible object on the far horizon must be the town of Patna, when a terrific crackling crash just below them drew the eyes of the party in that direction, just in time for them to see the supposed projecting crag—in reality an enormous mass of ice—which supported the snow-bank on which the Flying Fish rested, break off and go thundering down into the unfathomable depths below. The spectators clung to each other in helpless nerveless terror at so appalling a spectacle as the falling of this mass, weighing probably millions of tons; but the full significance and import of the catastrophe did not present itself to their dazed and bewildered senses until they beheld the Flying Fish, after following the falling mass for a couple of hundred feet, recover herself and float jauntily in the air, adrift, at a distance of fully two thousand feet from the mountain side. Then, indeed, the full horror of their position began to slowly dawn upon them, and they looked at each other with eyes in which could be read a despair too deep and too complete to need or find expression in words. Their long search for a landing-place that morning had unconsciously impressed upon them a fact which now—and not till now—took intelligible shape within their brains, and it was this: they could descend the mountain as far as the spot at which they had left the Flying Fish, but no further; beyond that point further descent, with the means at their disposal, was impossible. Which meant, in plain language and few words, that, sooner or later, they would try to get down, and either be dashed to pieces in the attempt or perish miserably of starvation upon the edge of some ghastly impassable precipice.

It took but a moment for these ideas to shape themselves intelligibly, and then a general movement was made to commence the descent and thus cut short a state of suspense which would soon become unbearable.

But at this moment the colonel interposed with a word of caution.

"One moment," said he. "Before we start let each one of us clearly understand that perfect coolness and presence of mind is imperatively necessary if we would emerge from this strait alive. We may perhaps find a way down after all, but in order to do so we must have our wits completely about us; let no man move, therefore, until he has fully recovered the control of his nerves; when all have done so we will make a start, and I will go last."

"And I first," exclaimed the baronet, "because, next to you, I believe I am the most experienced mountaineer of the party."

The colonel's little speech produced a most beneficial effect upon the nerves of the whole party, his own included; and now, without further ado, a general start was made, the baronet going first and directing and helping the professor, who followed him; Mildmay going third, also helping von Schalckenberg, and being helped in his turn by Lethbridge, and the latter bringing up the rear.

The descent, owing to the perpendicular precipices over which they had to pass, and the extremely dangerous character, generally, of the road, proved to be even more tedious and difficult than the ascent; and within the first quarter of an hour (during which they had accomplished only about one hundred feet of perpendicular descent) every one of the party had experienced at least one narrow escape from certain death.

Steadily, however, they toiled on; foot by foot they crept down the face of the icy precipice, and at length they reached a ledge nearly a foot in width, upon which the entire party were enabled to pause for a minute or two to rest and relieve their tired and quivering muscles.

When their feet were safely planted upon this ledge Mildmay spoke.

"I may now venture," he said, "to call your attention to a fact which I feared to mention before, lest it should upset the balance of your nerves and produce a catastrophe. It is this. The Flying Fish, floating undisturbed in this motionless air, is, in obedience to the law of gravitation, slowly but steadily being drawn in toward the side of the mountain; and if—which God grant—it remains perfectly calm up here for another quarter of an hour, she will be once more alongside, and we may yet regain access to her. To do this, however, we must edge away more toward the eastern side of the mountain, where I fear we shall encounter even greater difficulties than we have yet met with. We can but try, however, and I think the sooner we push on the better."

"Forward, then, at once," cried the baronet; "and take heed to your steps, my friends, for this ice is terribly smooth and slippery."

Once more was the journey resumed, the baronet availing himself of the ledge, as far as it extended, to work his way round the shoulder of the hill in the required direction; and by the time they reached a point where actual descent had again become necessary, they had once more come within sight of the ship, and had the satisfaction of seeing that she had drawn sensibly nearer to the cliff.

"All right," exclaimed Sir Reginald cheerfully, "I see the spot we must aim for—that pinnacle of bare rock yonder, and there is a tolerably easy road down to it, moreover."

Away they now went, their spirits at the very highest pitch of exhilaration, and their nerves by so much the steadier, and such rapid progress did they make that ten minutes later saw them clustered together clinging to the rocky pinnacle before mentioned. And a gruesome-enough looking spot it was—a sharp projecting point of rock overhanging a sheer precipice some two hundred feet deep, with a narrow snow-bank immediately beneath, and then another frightful abyss of unknown depth beyond. And, to the right and left of it, an almost vertical face of bare rock coated with smooth, slippery, transparent ice, any attempt to traverse which would be courting death in its most horrible form.

The Flying Fish seemed to be drifting steadily in toward this pinnacle of rock, though at a depth of some twenty feet below it, and it was resolved to pause there and allow events to develop somewhat before exerting themselves further.

Slowly, very slowly, the Flying Fish drifted nearer and nearer in; the little party clustered upon the rock watching her with bated breath, and every moment dreading that a faint air of wind might after all waft her beyond their reach. But nothing of the sort occurred; in she steadily came, until at last her starboard gangway was immediately underneath the party.

"Now or never!" exclaimed Sir Reginald. "I am going to make a jump for her. We shall scarcely have a better chance; and breeze may at any moment sweep round the face of the rock and carry her away from us. Lethbridge and Mildmay, let me steady myself by your shoulders whilst I stand on the extreme point of the rock. Stand firm, now; I am about to jump. Are you ready? Then—one—two—THREE!"

The body of the baronet darted outward from the face of the rock, Mildmay and the colonel retaining their footing with the utmost difficulty under the recoil from the outward impulse; and then the three men left behind on the rock craned their necks over the precipice to watch the result.

The sight which met their eyes caused their hair to bristle and their blood to curdle with horror. Sir Reginald had either miscalculated his distance, or his foot had slipped in the act of springing, for instead of alighting upon the ship's deck, as he had intended, he had fallen on the circular bilge of the vessel, from whence, after an unavailing struggle to secure a footing, he slid off, and, with a piercing scream, went whirling downward until he alighted on the narrow snow-bank some two hundred feet below. His horror-stricken companions fully expected to see him rebound and go plunging over the edge of the next precipice, but luckily the snow upon which he had fallen was so deep that his body sank into it, and there he lay, motionless.

"Merciful Heaven, he is killed!" ejaculated the colonel with stammering lips.

"Perhaps not," returned Mildmay; "at all events we will hope for the best. Let me see if I can do better. Quick—out of the way—ah! The wind after all! We are too late!"

And even as he spoke the bows of the Flying Fish swung slowly round, and her hull was swept gently away from the face of the cliff by a capricious zephyr which just then came creeping along the mountain side.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

HOW THE ADVENTURE TERMINATED.

The silence of despair again settled upon the three remaining travellers; they had lost one of their party, and were a second time left stranded upon that terrible mountain top, from which it now began to appear that there was no possibility of escape. One thing at least was certain, which was, that on their side of the mountain there was no means of further descent; the pinnacle of rock upon which they then stood was the lowest accessible point; there was no possible way even of reaching poor Sir Reginald's body, and the way downward, if indeed such existed, must be sought elsewhere.

They crouched where they were, in helpless bewilderment, watching the ship until she slowly drifted out of sight round a projecting bluff; and then, in a dazed, halfhearted way, and with nerves all unstrung by disappointment and the dreadful accident which had befallen the baronet, they began to slowly retrace their steps, in the faint hope of stumbling upon some means of escape.

Led this time by the colonel, Mildmay bringing up the rear, the little party at last made their way back to the narrow ledge where they had previously paused to rest, and here they again made a momentary halt, afterwards following the ledge in the other direction until it terminated abruptly in an almost perpendicular wall of smooth rock. Another ledge was here discovered, about eighteen feet further down, but it was certainly not more than a foot wide, with apparently a vertical fall of several hundred feet beyond. This ledge extended right and left beyond their range of vision, and had evidently been traversed by them in their original ascent, for their footprints were plainly visible in the snow with which it was covered; if, therefore, they could reach it, it would at least be possible to return to their original starting- point, which would certainly be something gained. But how to get down to it was the question. They had grown bewildered in their gropings round about the summit, and knew not in which direction to go to regain the lost path. They might, of course, go on climbing until they were once more at the very top of the mountain, and commence their descent afresh, but this was a task so full of difficulty and peril as not to be thought of, save as a last resort. Besides, the day was already on the wane, and it was of the utmost importance that they should reach some place of comparative safety before nightfall. At length Mildmay hit upon a bold though terribly dangerous mode of mastering the difficulty.

"Look here," he said, "it is no use hesitating here; we shall never do any good at this rate. Let me offer a suggestion. I will lower myself down over the ledge until I hang from it by my hands alone; then you, Lethbridge, must climb down over me, using my body as a ladder (or a rope, rather), and when you are hanging at arm's-length from my feet there will only remain a very trifling drop to the lower ledge, which you can surely accomplish in safety. That done you must stand by to steady me and prevent me, if possible, from going backward over the precipice; and, with us two safely on the ledge, we are surely men enough to catch the professor when he makes the drop. What say you to the plan?"

"It is frightfully dangerous, but it is perhaps worth trying—if you think you have the strength for it. What say you, professor? Have you nerve enough to make the drop, trusting to us to catch you?"

"Anything is better than this," answered the professor. "Your own and Mildmay's are the most difficult portions of the task. If you are equal to your parts I will perform mine; but my strength is not sufficient to justify my offering to change places with either of you."

"Then let us try it," exclaimed the colonel decisively. "Will you go first, Mildmay, or shall I?"

"You go first," answered Mildmay. "I am pretty strong in the arms, and think the method I have proposed the safest, on the whole."

"All right, then. I am ready whenever you are."

"Stand firm, then, and let me steady myself down over the ledge by your leg—we shall be down, one way or another, all the sooner. Now, look out, I am going!"

The colonel braced himself as firmly as possible against the strain, and Mildmay lowered himself cautiously down until he hung from the ledge by both hands. Then, without wasting a moment, Lethbridge carefully placed himself in position, got down on his knees, lowered one foot until it rested on Mildmay's shoulder, then the other; firmly grasped the ledge with both hands, outside Mildmay's; got his knees down on Mildmay's shoulders, and then, warning the lieutenant to hold firm, grasped him by both wrists and proceeded as rapidly and carefully as possible to slide down his body until he hung to him by a firm hand-grasp round the ankles. The muscles of poor Mildmay's hands and arms quivered and fairly cracked with the terrible strain thrown upon them during the latter part of this manoeuvre; but he set his teeth hard, remembering that the lives of the whole party depended upon him just then, and hung on. It was not for long. The colonel paused only for a moment to give one downward glance at the spot upon which he was about to drop, and then let go. He pitched fairly on the ledge, slipped, staggered for a moment, almost went over, but recovered himself and stood firm. Then moving a little to one side he prepared to receive Mildmay, and gave him the word to drop. It came none too soon, for the lieutenant's quivering muscles were already failing him, his nerveless fingers were already relaxing their grasp, and he felt that he must let go, whether or not, in another moment. At the cry from Lethbridge he released his hold, and next moment, with the colonel's arm thrown firmly round his waist, stood safely on the ledge.

It was next the professor's turn; but now that the critical moment had arrived for him too to drop from one ledge to another, the unwelcome discovery was made that his nerves were unequal to the task, and for some time persuasion, cajolery, entreaties, and threats proved equally unavailing to tempt him to the enterprise. At length, however, in a fit of desperation he essayed the task, hurried over it, missed his hold, and went whirling outward from the face of the cliff. In another instant he would have been over the precipice, and plunging headlong downward to the death which awaited him thousands of feet below, but most fortunately both Mildmay and the colonel saw the mishap, and made a simultaneous snatch at him; the former succeeded in grasping him by the arm, and, before either of the trio had time to fully realise what had actually happened, poor von Schalckenberg was dragged—pale, breathless, and completely unnerved—in upon the ledge.

A few minutes were allowed the unhappy professor in which to recover his presence of mind, and then the little party cautiously worked their way downward along the ledge, finally arriving half an hour later on the narrow platform of ice which was now all that remained of the plateau whereon the Flying Fish had been grounded.

It had been the intention of the unfortunate adventurers to make a temporary halt here, for the purpose of recruiting their exhausted energies so far as it might be done by taking a few minutes' rest, but the ice was so shivered by the shock of its recent rupture as to present a very insecure appearance, and they were therefore constrained to keep moving notwithstanding their fatigue. Very fortunately the breaking away of the snow-bank had, in one place, laid bare the surface of the rock, which here was very jagged and uneven (which would probably account for the original accumulation of the snow in that spot), and these irregularities were promptly utilised as a means of further descent. By their aid an additional two hundred feet of downward movement was slowly and painfully accomplished, and then Mildmay (who was now leading the way) found himself within a foot or two of the lower edge of an almost perpendicular slope overhanging an awful abyss of unfathomable depth, his further progress downward being barred by the fact that beneath him the rock sloped inwards! A single downward glance sufficed not only to reveal to him his appalling situation, but also to wring from his lips such a piercing cry of horror as effectually warned his friends from following him any further. Then he pressed his body close to the face of the rock, and clung there convulsively with feet and hands to the trifling irregularities of surface which alone afforded him a hold, his blood curdling and his brain reeling at the thought of the horrible deadly danger which menaced him. A single slip of hand or foot, a momentary failure of a muscle, the slightest seizure of cramp or vertigo, and he would go whirling headlong downward at least five hundred feet sheer through the air before reaching the ground below. He was so unnerved that he was actually incapable of replying to the colonel's anxious hail as to what was the matter.

It was whilst he stood thus vainly striving to recover his self- control—a growing conviction of the impossibility of escape meanwhile forcing itself with momentarily increasing intensity upon him—that a huge moving mass suddenly swung into view round a projection on his left, and a simultaneous cry of surprise from his two waiting and wondering companions told that they too had caught sight of it. It was the Flying Fish slowly drifting round the mountain, stern on, and that too so closely that her propeller actually touched the rocky projection, some thirty feet off, as she passed it. The force of the contact, though very gentle, was sufficient to give her a slight outward impulse; and though she continued to drift round toward the rock to which the adventurers were clinging, it appeared as though she would pass it at such a distance as would just preclude the possibility of their reaching her.

"We must shout," exclaimed Mildmay, finding his voice all at once; "we must shout to George. Perhaps our cries may reach him and bring him on deck, in which event we shall be able to tell him what to do."

And shout they did, simultaneously, and at the full power of their lungs; but it was of no avail—George and the cook were both at that moment in the innermost recesses of the ship busily engaged on their respective avocations, and in all likelihood profoundly ignorant of the state of affairs. At all events there was no response, and the ship went drifting slowly past. She was floating almost level with the little party clinging there desperately to the face of the naked rock, the boss of her propeller being at just about the same height as the colonel's head. As she drove almost imperceptibly along it seemed to Mildmay that she was also being drawn inward toward the face of the rock; and he began to ask himself whether an active man might not, after all, be able to overleap the intervening space and grasp one of the propeller-blades. The craft was so tantalisingly close that it seemed to him almost a cowardly thing to let this chance pass; yet, when he glanced downward at the darkening abyss over which he hung, he shudderingly confessed to himself that the leap was an impossibility, and that they must retreat upward with all speed to gain some comparatively secure spot upon which to pass the night now gathering about them. He was about to put this thought into words, and to propose an immediate upward movement, when he turned to take (as he believed) a last parting glance at the Flying Fish, now immediately behind him. In doing so his fingers slipped and lost their grip upon the rock, and before he could recover his hold he found himself going over backwards. He felt that he was lost; but, with the instinct of self-preservation, turned quickly on his feet, and as they too were slipping off the minute projections on which he had been supporting himself, he made a vigorous desperate spring outward from the face of the rock, reaching forward into space toward the curved end of the propeller-blade which he saw in front of him. Despair must have leant him extra strength when making that last awful leap, for, though the distance was fully twenty feet, he actually reached and succeeded in grasping the end of the blade. To swing himself up astride upon it was the work of a moment; and then he paused to rest and recover from this last shock to his nervous system. Not for long, however; he knew that his companions must be nearly exhausted, and that their lives now probably depended solely on his activity and the celerity with which he might be able to go to their rescue; so he pulled himself together, shouted to them the encouraging news of his success, and then devoted himself in earnest to the difficult and perilous task of reaching the deck of the ship. He had hardly begun this task before he realised that it was one which would tax his strength, energy, and ingenuity to their utmost extent. The propeller-blade upon which he was perched happened to be at the very lowest point of its revolution; and his first task must be to reach the boss, which was about seventeen feet above his head. The peculiar shape of the blades rendered it impossible for him to achieve this by climbing up the edge of any one of them; his only chance consisted in working his way from one to the other. The blade to his right seemed to him the most easily accessible, and he forthwith set about the work of reaching it. To do this he had to climb about ten feet up the fore edge of the blade upon which he was perched, and to anyone but a sailor this would have been an impossibility. Even to Mildmay it proved a most difficult as well as hazardous feat; but after a couple of failures success crowned his efforts, and he found himself high enough to reach the point of the next blade. This was so far away, however, that he could only touch it with his finger-tips, and in order to grasp it—even with one hand—he found that he would be obliged to overbalance himself so much that, if he missed, a fall must inevitably result. The risk had to be taken, however; and he took it, fortunately with success. This left him swinging by one hand from the point of the propeller-blade; but in another second he had grasped it with his other hand, and, after a struggle or two, managed to get fairly astride the edge. His next task was to work himself in along the edge until he was abreast the after edge of the blade he had just left, when he had to reach over to the utmost stretch of his arms, grasp the blade, and in that awkward position scramble to his feet. This he also managed, when a further comparatively easy climb enabled him to reach the boss. He now found himself standing on the boss and leaning against the smooth elliptical stern of the vessel. His next task was to climb up over this smooth rounded surface and so make his way along the upper surface of the hull to the superstructure, when he would soon find means to reach the deck. This also, though a task of immense difficulty, he actually accomplished; finally reaching the deck in so prostrate a condition that he fell insensible before he could gain the pilot-house.

His fit of insensibility, however, did not last long—the latent consciousness of responsibility effectually prevented that; and he was soon able to rise and stagger to the pilot-house. Once there, he forthwith made his way below and availed himself of the stimulus afforded by a glass of neat brandy, after which he felt equal to the task which yet lay before him. Having swallowed the brandy, he at once returned to the deck and shifted the rope-ladder over to the larboard gangway. He then looked about him to ascertain the whereabouts of the ship, which he found to be about half a mile distant from the spot where he had left his friends, and gradually drifting further away under the influence of a gentle night-breeze which had just sprung up—thus proving indubitably that, had he not reached the craft when he did, she would probably have been lost to them all for ever. Having attached the ladder securely, Mildmay next entered the pilot-house, and—night having by this time completely fallen—turned on the electric lights; after which he set the engines in motion and returned to the side of the mountain in search of the two companions he had left clinging in so dangerous a situation. These were found just as he had left them, and were speedily taken on board—they too being completely overcome by the revulsion of feeling following upon their rescue.

A glass of brandy each quickly revived them, however, and then they devoted their united energies to a search for the baronet. With some little difficulty the scene of the accident was discovered; and a minute or two later Sir Reginald was observed, not dead, as they had feared to find him, but sitting up on the snow-bank upon which he had fallen, a prisoner to the spot, from the fact that there was no possible way of retreat from it either upward or downward; but in other respects very little the worse for his terrible fall, the snow, happily, proving so deep that it served as a cushion or buffer, allowing the baronet to escape with only a few somewhat severe bruises. The adventure being thus happily terminated, the ship was quickly navigated to the berth she had occupied on the preceding night; and the party then sat down to dinner, over which meal they came to the conclusion that they had had enough mountain-climbing that day to suffice them for the remainder of their lives.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE FOUNDERING OF THE "MERCURY."

The nerves of the adventurers were so shaken by the vicissitudes of their day's adventure that they found it impossible to obtain sound and refreshing sleep that night, notwithstanding their terrible fatigue; their slumbers were broken by horrible dreams, and further disturbed by the cries of wild beasts of various descriptions which kept the forest in a perfect uproar the whole night long. So great, indeed, was the disturbance from the latter cause, that, on comparing notes over the breakfast table next morning, the party came to the conclusion that they must be in a district literally swarming with big game, and that it might be worth their while to spend a few days there hunting. This they did; with such success that their stay was prolonged for nearly a month, by which time they had collected such a quantity of skins, horns, tusks, skulls, and other trophies of the chase that even they, inveterate sportsmen as they were, acknowledged themselves satisfied. The professor, meanwhile, had devoted himself enthusiastically to the forming of a collection of rare birds, beetles, and butterflies, in which pursuit he had been fully as successful as his companions in theirs; so that when the time came for them to leave this delightful spot they did so in the highest possible state of health and spirits; the remembrance of their ugly adventure on Everest disturbing them no more than would the memory of a troublesome dream.

Their next destination was the island of Borneo; and they arranged their departure so as to pass over Calcutta and enter the Bay of Bengal during the hours of darkness, their intention being to make the latter part of the trip by water rather than by air.

They descended to the surface of the sea at daylight, the land being at that time invisible from the elevation of ten thousand feet at which they had been travelling during the night. Not a sail of any description was in sight; the sparkling sea was only moderately ruffled by the north-east monsoon; and appearances seemed to warrant a belief that the passage would be a thoroughly pleasant one. The travellers were in no hurry whatever, and they were, moreover, longing for a sniff of the good wholesome sea-breeze; the Flying Fish therefore proceeded very leisurely on her course, her engines revolving dead slow, which gave her a speed of about sixteen knots through the water.

They proceeded thus during the whole of that day and the succeeding night, finding themselves at daybreak next morning within sight of one of the lesser islands of the Andaman group. And at this point of their journey a gradual fall of the mercury in their barometers warned them that they were about to experience a change of weather. The atmospheric indications remained unchanged, however, until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when the wind lulled, the mercury experienced a sudden further fall, and a great mass of murky cloud began to bank up in the south-western quarter. This rapidly overspread the sky, until the whole of the visible heavens became obscured by a thick curtain of flying scud. The sea, inky black, suddenly became agitated, and formed itself into a confusion of irregular waves without any "run," but which reared themselves tremblingly aloft, and then subsided again, only to be instantly succeeded by others. The wind fell away to a dead calm, which continued for about a quarter of an hour, during which an alarmingly rapid fall of the mercury, combined with a low weird moaning in the atmosphere, seemed to forebode the approach of some dire disaster. This was followed by a sudden blast of wind from the eastward—which came and was gone again in an instant—and which preceded a brief but terrific downpour of rain. This lasted for perhaps three minutes, when it ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.

"Now, look out for the wind," exclaimed Mildmay. "Ah! here it comes—a regular hurricane! Thank Heaven, there is no sail to shorten on board the Flying Fish!"

He might well say so; for sore indeed would be the plight of the unwary seaman who should find himself under similar circumstances, unprepared. A long line of white foam suddenly appeared on their starboard bow, racing down toward them and spreading out right and left with frightful rapidity, until the whole horizon, from some four points on the larboard bow right round to broad on their starboard beam, was marked by a continuous line of flying foam and spindrift. They watched with eager curiosity this remarkable phenomenon, noticed the astounding rapidity with which it travelled, and saw that the sea on their starboard hand, ay, and even well on their starboard quarter, was lashed into a perfect frenzy by the hurricane before it reached the ship. Then, with a wild rush and a deafening roar, the gale struck them, and the Flying Fish— stout ship as she was—fairly shuddered under the force of the blow. In an instant the air became so thick with the driving scud-water that every window in the pilot-house had to be closed to prevent the inmates being drenched to the skin. In less than five minutes the deck was wet fore and aft with the flying spray; and before a quarter of an hour had elapsed the Flying Fish was pitching her fore-deck clean under water.

At its commencement the gale blew from about south-east, or dead in their teeth; and the revolutions of the engines were increased to a rate which, under ordinary circumstances, would have given the ship a speed of some twenty-five knots, but which now drove her ahead at the rate of only some fifteen knots against the gale. As the afternoon wore on, the wind gradually "backed," until, at four p.m., it was blowing from due south. This confirmed Mildmay in his suspicion that they had fallen in with one of those most terrible of storms—a cyclone!

At half-past four o'clock—at which time the gale was raging with hurricane force—a sail was made out, bearing about one point on the Flying Fish's port bow, and about four miles distant. As well as could be made out, she appeared to be barque-rigged; and, on approaching her more closely, this proved to be the case. She was a vessel of some four hundred tons register, pretty deep in the water; and—though she was hove-to under close-reefed fore and main topsails—was making frightfully bad weather of it, the seas sweeping clear and clean over her, fore and aft, every time she met them.

The moment that the stranger was first sighted, Mildmay opened one of the windows—at the risk of getting drenched to the skin—and brought a telescope to bear upon her. He had scarcely brought her within the field of vision when he exclaimed agitatedly:

"Good Heavens! what is the man about? He has hove-to his ship on the port tack; does he not know he is in a cyclone?"

"What does it matter which tack the vessel is hove-to upon?" asked Sir Reginald with a smile at Mildmay's excitement.

"All the difference in the world, my dear sir," was the reply. "We are in the Northern Hemisphere; in which—as you have already had an opportunity of observing—cyclones invariably revolve against the apparent course of the sun. A knowledge of this fact teaches the wary seaman to heave-to on the starboard tack; by doing which his ship dodges away from the fatal centre or 'eye' of the storm. This fellow, however, by heaving-to on the port tack, is steadily nearing the centre, which must eventually pass over him, when his ship will be suddenly becalmed, only to be struck aback a few moments later, when she will— almost to a dead certainty—founder with all hands. For Heaven's sake let us bear down upon him and warn him ere it be too late. And we have no time to lose about it either; for, if I may judge from the fury of the gale, the centre of the storm is not far off."

The speed of the Flying Fish was promptly increased, her course being at the same time so far altered as to admit of her intercepting the barque, and a few minutes later she passed under the stranger's stern and hauled close up on her weather quarter, the travellers thus having an opportunity of ascertaining the name of the vessel, which proved to be the Mercury of Bristol. They were now also able to realise more fully than they had yet the tremendous strength of the gale and power of the sea; the unfortunate barque careening gunwale-to under the pressure of the wind upon her scanty canvas, whilst the sea deluged her decks fore and aft; the whole of her lee and a considerable portion of her weather bulwarks having already been carried away, together with her spare spars; whilst every sea which broke on board her swept something or other off the deck and into the sea to leeward. The long-boat and pinnace, stowed over the main hatchway, were stove and rendered unserviceable; and, even as the Flying Fish ranged up alongside, their destruction was completed and their shattered planks and timbers torn out of the "gripes." The crew of the ship had, for safety's sake, assembled aft on the full poop; and among them could be seen a female figure crouching down under the meagre shelter of the cabin skylight evidently in a state of extreme terror.

"You go out and hail them, Mildmay; you know what to say," remarked Sir Reginald, as he steered the Flying Fish into a favourable position for communicating.

The lieutenant needed no second bidding; he felt that the crisis was imminent; and, stepping out on deck, where he had to cling tightly to the lee guard-rail to escape being washed overboard, he hailed:

"Barque ahoy! do you know that you are in a cyclone, and hove-to on the wrong tack? I would very strongly advise you to wear round at once and get the ship on the starboard tack. If the eye of the storm catches you you will surely founder."

To his intense astonishment an answer came back—from a great black- bearded savage-looking fellow—couched in the words, as nearly as he could make them out for the howling of the wind and the rush of the sea:

"You mind your own business! Nobody on board this ship wants your advice."

"But I am giving it you for your own safety's sake, and that of the ship," persisted Mildmay.

The answer was unintelligible, but, as it was accompanied by an impatient wave of the hand and a turning of the speaker's back upon him, Mildmay rightly concluded that the individual was one of those obstinate, pig-headed people, who, having once made a mistake, will persist in it at all hazards rather than take advice, and so admit the possibility of their having done wrong; he accordingly turned away somewhat disgusted, and made his way back to the shelter of the pilot- house.

The lieutenant was in the act of describing to his companions the unsatisfactory nature of the foregoing brief colloquy, when suddenly—instantaneously—there occurred an awful pause in the fury of the hurricane; the wind lulled at once to a dead calm; the air cleared; the sea, no longer thrashed down by the gale, reared itself aloft as though it would scale the very heavens; and the canvas of the barque flapped with a single loud thunderous report as she rolled heavily to windward.

"Now, look out!" gasped Mildmay. And, even as the words escaped his lips, down came the hurricane again in a sudden mad burst of relentless fury; but now the wind blew from the northward, the point of the compass exactly opposite that from which it had been blowing a minute before.

The Flying Fish, having neither sails nor spars exposed to the blast, received this second stroke of the gale with impunity; but with the devoted barque it was, alas, very different. She was struck flat aback and borne irresistibly over on her beam-ends, gathering stern-way at the same time. The crew, at last fully alive to the extreme peril of their situation, scrambled along the deck and made their way to the braces in a futile attempt to haul round the yards, the helmsman at the same time jamming the wheel hard down that the ship might have a chance to pay off. The yards, however, were jammed fast against the weather rigging, and could not be moved; neither would the ship's head pay off; meanwhile, her stern-way was rapidly increasing, the sea already foaming up level with her taffrail; and presently it curled in over her lee quarter, sweeping in a steadily increasing volume along her deck. The catastrophe which followed took place with startling rapidity. The stern of the barque, now buried beneath the surge, seemed at once to lose all its buoyancy, and, powerfully depressed by the leverage of the topsails on the masts, plunged at once deeply below the surface of the hungrily leaping sea, the rest of the hull following so quickly that, before the horrified spectators in the Flying Fish's pilot-house fully realised what was happening, the entire hull had disappeared, the masts, yards, and top-hamper generally only remaining in sight a moment longer, as though to impress upon them unmistakably the fact that a ship was foundering before their eyes.

"Come back and close the door!" thundered Sir Reginald to Mildmay, laying his hand upon certain valve-handles as the lieutenant sprang out on deck, urged by some indefinite purpose of rendering help where help was obviously no longer possible.

Mildmay stood for a moment, as one in a dream, watching the submergence of the ill-fated Mercury's jib-boom end and fore-topgallant mast-head (the last of her spars to disappear) beneath the swirl where her hull had just vanished, and then, dazedly, he obeyed the baronet's sharply reiterated command.

No sooner did the door clang to than Sir Reginald rapidly threw open all the valves of the water chambers, and the Flying Fish at once began to follow the barque to the bottom. In less than five seconds the travellers found themselves clear of all the wild commotion raging on the surface, and descending silently, rapidly, yet steadily deeper and deeper into the recesses of the cool twilight which prevailed around them, deepest blue below and an ever-darkening green above. They quickly overtook the Mercury and continued the descent almost side by side with her, watching, with awe-struck curiosity yet overwhelming pity and horror, the death-struggles of those who were being helplessly dragged down with her. They observed, with a feeling of intense relief, that the struggle for life ceased, in almost every case, in less than a minute, the expression of horror on the dying men's faces passing away still earlier and giving place to one of profound peace and contentment; thus confirming, to a great extent the current belief that death by drowning is a painless mode of dissolution.

The crew had, without exception, at the moment of the barque's foundering, grasped some rope or other portion of the vessel's equipment, the death-clutch upon which was in no single instance relaxed; hence they were, one and all, dragged hopelessly to the bottom with the wreck. With the female, however, it was different. She had been crouching in a kneeling attitude upon the deck, under the imperfect shelter of the cabin skylight, and when the poop deck became submerged she was swept forward, still in the same attitude, with her hands clasped as in prayer, until her body was washed clear of the poop rail, when the suction of the sinking ship dragged her below the surface. As the hull of the barque settled down it gradually recovered its balance and assumed an almost level position, due, to some extent, no doubt, to the pressure of the water upon the sails; and, with every fathom of descent, the downward motion grew increasingly slower. The wreck had sunk to a depth of perhaps twenty or five-and-twenty fathoms, when the absorbed spectators in the Flying Fish's pilot-house were startled by observing a sudden convulsive motion in the body of the female. Her hands were unclasped, her arms were flung wildly out above her head, and her body was slowly straightened out. At the same moment the space between her and the sinking wreck widened; the vessel was sinking more rapidly than the body. The descent of the Flying Fish was instantly checked, and in another moment it became apparent that the body was rising to the surface.

In eager, breathless anxiety the watchers noted the steady downward progress of the Mercury's spars and cordage past the now struggling form of the woman, victims of alternate dismay and hope as they saw the body now fouled by some portion of the complicated net-work of standing and running gear between the main and mizzen masts, and anon drifting clear of it again. A few seconds, which to the quartette in the pilot- house seemed spun out to the duration of ages, and the last of these perils was evaded, upon which the body, still feebly struggling, resumed its upward journey.

With a great sigh of intense relief, echoed by each of his companions, Sir Reginald swiftly backed the Flying Fish astern, causing her at the same time, by a movement of the tiller, to swerve with her bow directly toward the body, now some five or six feet above the level of the deck. Then, quick as thought, the ship was sent ahead until her deck was immediately beneath the body, when, the valves of the air and water chambers being simultaneously thrown open, she rushed upward to the surface, overtaking the drowning woman and carrying her upward also.

In another instant, a vacuum having been created in the air-chambers, the Flying Fish broke water with a tremendous rush and swirl, and, without a moment's pause, rose into the air, the senseless body on deck being prevented from washing off again only by the guard-rail which stood in place of bulwarks.

"Take charge, please, and do not rise too high," hurriedly exclaimed the baronet to Mildmay, springing, as he spoke, for the door of the pilot- house, which he flung open, rushing out on deck and seizing the body as though fearful that it might yet be snatched away from him.

Gently raising it in his arms he turned and bore the slender form to the shelter of the pilot-house, at the door of which he was met by the professor, who felt that his medical skill might yet perhaps serve the unfortunate girl in good stead. Together they conveyed her below to one of the state-rooms, and, without a moment's loss of time, the most approved methods of resuscitation were vigorously resorted to. For fully half an hour their utmost efforts proved all unavailing; but von Schalckenberg so positively asserted life was not extinct that they persevered, and at length a slight return of warmth to the body and colour to the lips, followed by a fluttering sigh, assured them that success was about to reward their endeavours. Another minute, and a pair of glorious brown eyes were disclosed by their opening lids, a faint moan escaped the quivering lips, the head moved uneasily upon the pillow, and the sufferer murmured a few inarticulate words.

"Thank God, we have saved her, I believe," ejaculated Sir Reginald, in a whisper, to the professor. "Now, doctor, I will retire and leave you to complete her restoration, so that the poor girl may be spared embarrassment as far as possible on the full recovery of consciousness. But I shall establish myself outside the door of the state-room, within easy reach of your voice should you need anything; and do not forget that the whole resources of the ship are at your absolute disposal."

"All right," answered the professor. "Now go, for the patient is coming to herself rapidly."

Half an hour later von Schalckenberg crept out on tiptoe, his kindly face beaming and his eyes sparkling with exultation.

"It is all right," he whispered in his broadest German-English. "I have fully restored the circulation, and the young patient is now in a sound sleep, from which she must not be disturbed on any account. I shall keep watch by her side, and when she awakes you shall all be duly informed of the circumstance. You may now go about your business, my good friend, your services are no longer required here."

The worthy professor kept sedulous watch over his patient until satisfied that she was completely out of danger, presenting her to his companions only when they assembled in the saloon for dinner some four- and-twenty hours after the catastrophe which had thrown her into their society.

The colonel and Mildmay were stricken absolutely, though only temporarily, dumb with astonishment and admiration at the vision of remarkable beauty which met their gaze as the saloon door opened, and von Schalckenberg, stepping hastily forward with a most courtly bow, met the fair stranger at the threshold, taking her hand and leading her forward into the apartment preliminary to the ceremony of introduction. Even Sir Reginald, though he had not failed to notice the beauty of the pale and apparently lifeless girl he had raised from the wet deck and borne so carefully below on the preceding evening, was startled at her radiant loveliness as she, somewhat shrinkingly and with a momentary vivid blush, responded to the introductions and congratulatory greetings which immediately followed. All night long, and throughout the day, she had been haunted by the dreamy recollection of another face than that of the kindly professor who had so assiduously nursed her back to life—a bronzed handsome face, with tender pitiful blue eyes, close-cut auburn hair clustering wavily about the small shapely head, and luxuriant auburn moustache and beard, bending anxiously over her as she lay weak, helpless, suffering, and with the feebly-returning consciousness of having recently experienced some terrible calamity; of having passed through some awful and harrowing ordeal; and now, as she gave her hand to Sir Reginald, and shyly glanced up into his handsome face and read the tender sympathy for her expressed by the kindly blue eyes, she recognised the embodiment of the vision which had haunted her so persistently, and knew that she had not been merely dreaming. The circumstances in which she thus found herself placed were certainly somewhat embarrassing; but, with the tact of a true gentleman, Sir Reginald at once led the conversation into a channel which soon made the poor girl forget her embarrassment, and almost immediately afterwards the party sat down to dinner.

During the progress of this meal—which, however, their guest scarcely tasted—the gentlemen were made aware of the circumstances which led to this lovely girl being thrown, helpless and friendless, into their society and upon their hospitality.

Her name, she informed them, was Olivia D'Arcy. She was an orphan. Her brother, formerly a lieutenant in the royal navy, had been compelled by straitened circumstances to quit the service and enter the mercantile marine, in which he had without much difficulty succeeded in securing a command. By practising the most rigid economy he had contrived to maintain his only sister, Olivia, and educate her at a first-class school, and on her education being completed he had decided, as the simplest way out of many difficulties, financial and otherwise, to take her to sea with him. This had been her first voyage with him, as it had been his first in command of the Mercury. The ship had been to Manilla, and at the time of her loss was homeward-bound, with instructions to call at Madras en route. The voyage had been an unfortunate one in many respects, even from its commencement, and Olivia thought the climax had been reached when, a week before her wreck, the Mercury had been attacked by pirates in the Straits of Malacca, and her brother slain by the pirates' last shot, as they retired defeated. The cruel shot, she declared in a burst of uncontrollable grief, had robbed her, in her brother, of her sole relative; and whilst she was deeply grateful to those she addressed for preserving her life, she felt that it would perhaps have been better for her had she been allowed to perish.

Such a story was calculated to excite the deepest sympathy and commiseration in the breasts of those who listened to it; and it did; in Sir Reginald's case, indeed, the feeling was even warmer than either of those mentioned, especially when he learned, upon further inquiry, that Olivia's brother had been none other than the George D'Arcy who, in the days of their mutual boyhood, had fought many a battle on his behalf at Eton when certain first-form bullies had shown a disposition to tyrannise over the then delicate curly-headed "Miss Reggie" (as Elphinstone was dubbed when he first entered the school), and the sorrowing girl was assured that, so far from being friendless, she would find in her then companions four men upon whom she might always rely for the warmest sympathy, the most kindly counsel, and the most substantial help so long as their lives might last.

The accession of such a guest as Olivia D'Arcy to the little party on board the Flying Fish occasioned, it will readily be understood, a complete and immediate change in all their plans. In the first moment that they gave to the consideration of the matter they saw that it would never do for a young, beautiful, and unprotected girl to accompany them hither and thither in their wanderings, even were she willing to do so, which they felt well assured she would not be. Two alternatives then presented themselves to the choice of the party: the one being to land her at the nearest port, and, furnishing her with the necessary means, leave her to make her way to England alone and unprotected as best she could; the other alternative involving the temporary abandonment of their further projects and the immediate return of the Flying Fish to England. The first project was named only to be abruptly and unanimously rejected by the entire party, the second being gladly adopted by Sir Reginald upon his receiving from his three friends the assurance of their hearty approval and acquiescence.

This decision was arrived at shortly before midnight on the evening following Olivia's formal introduction by the professor to the remaining members of the party, and thereupon—the Flying Fish being at the time afloat and making her way leisurely southward toward the Straits of Malacca—an ascent to the upper regions of the atmosphere was at once made, and the ship's head pointed homeward. The distance to be traversed was considerable, but it was calculated that by travelling at the ship's utmost speed along the arc of a great circle (the shortest possible route between any two places on the earth's surface), the journey might be accomplished in about forty-five hours, which, allowing for the difference of longitude in time between their then position and the English Channel, would enable them to reach the latter place at about two o'clock in the afternoon of the day but one following. This was rather an awkward time, if they still intended to maintain their secrecy of movement and avoid observation, but under the circumstances they resolved to risk it. Soaring, therefore, to a height of ten thousand feet—the elevation which experience had taught them to be most suitable for the performance of long-distance journeys—the Flying Fish was put to her utmost speed, and, with the gentlemen keeping watch by turns in the pilot-house, the journey was commenced.

Swiftly the wonderful fabric sped forward upon her homeward way, and, without incident of any kind worthy of mention, and almost at the very minute calculated upon, the waters of the English Channel were sighted; an unobserved descent being effected some twenty miles seaward of the little town of Saint Valery on the French coast. A course was now shaped for the Isle of Wight, and, a few hours later, one of the boats belonging to the Flying Fish quietly glided into Portsmouth harbour in charge of Lieutenant Mildmay. Three passengers—Olivia D'Arcy, the professor, and Colonel Lethbridge—landed from her without attracting any attention, and found themselves just in good time to take the London express, which they did, Mildmay making his solitary way out of the harbour again immediately.

In accordance with arrangements previously made by Sir Reginald, Miss D'Arcy was escorted by her two cavaliers straight to the town residence of a certain aunt of the baronet's, and handed over to the care and protection of the old lady, with whom (to make short of a long story) for the ensuing twelve months she found a most comfortable and happy home; Sir Reginald and Mildmay turning up in town two days later laden with their African spoils, the equitable division of which, and their ultimate disposal, occupied the party for several months.

Thus ended the cruise of the Flying Fish. What remains to be told may be said in a very few words. Will the sagacious reader be very much surprised to learn that Sir Reginald Elphinstone suddenly discovered, in the aunt who had kindly taken Olivia D'Arcy under her protection, an old lady whose good graces were worth the most assiduous cultivation? Such, at all events, was the fact, and, this much having been stated, the aforesaid sagacious reader will perhaps be not altogether unprepared to learn that, about a year after the return of the Flying Fish to England, a wedding took place from that old lady's house; in which ceremony Olivia enacted most charmingly the part of bride, with Sir Reginald as bridegroom, supported by the three staunch friends who had shared with him so many perils.

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And what about the Flying Fish, does somebody ask? When last heard of she was—where she probably still is—lying safe and unsuspected at the bottom of the "Hurd Deep," in the identical spot where she made her first descent into the waters of the English Channel.

Whether she will ever again be put into commission—and, if so, under what circumstances—time alone will show.

THE END.