The Air Pirate

  ***

  Space begins to press on me. There are still two strange and unforgettable scenes to add to this narrative, further tragedies to set down. The last scene of all, which I have called The Epilogue, was not written for a year after the earlier part of this story, which is now published as a whole for the first time. Why this is so will become clear as you read on, if you care to follow me to the very end.

  But as I would not weary you, I will only indicate the happenings during the rest of that day at Plymouth in the briefest possible fashion. I am impatient to bring the story up to the hour of eleven-thirty of the same night.

  Immediately we were at rest on the placid waters of the sea-drome, Muir Lockhart, with a strong force of Air Police, came aboard. Constance and her maid were taken in a motor-boat to one of my patrol ships, which started with them for the Hounslow Aerodrome within half an hour of our arrival. We both of us thought it best that she should proceed to London immediately, and going by air in a Government ship, she would escape all annoyance and publicity.

  All approach to the sea-drome was barred, and though the Hoe was crowded with spectators, none of them could approach anywhere near to us. When I had given Lockhart an outline of what had occurred, the two prisoners were taken over the pool with a strong guard, and run up in the private lift to the Air Police station where there was a strong cell ready to receive them. Then I was free to show my colleague, himself an expert airman, the wonders of our capture.

  I was doing this -- we were in the pilot's cabin -- when one of my men came in and said a motor launch had come alongside from the private air-yacht May Flower, which was moored not a hundred yards away. I had noticed, when descending, that a magnificent yacht was close by, but I did not identify it as Mr. Van Adams' ship. It appeared he had been sleeping aboard for the last two or three nights, since he had flown down from London for the funeral, and was now alongside.

  Van Adams, of course, was an exception to all ordinary rules, and in a minute he was shaking hands in the private saloon and betraying a most lively curiosity as to our adventures. I put Danjuro to satisfy him, and when we had sampled a bottle of Helzephron's champagne, I left a couple of trusted men to guard the ship and went ashore. Danjuro returned to the May Flower with his patron.

  The rest of the day was a whirl of business and excitement, though I managed to get three hours much needed sleep in the afternoon.

  Wires from the Government, from America, from Royalty poured in, in a never-ceasing stream. There were innumerable officials to see, the correspondents of the great newspapers to satisfy with some sort of story -- a hundred things to do and arrange. The whole of England was in a ferment, and the stone building of the Air Police on the Hoe was, for a few hours, the centre of it all. The air was thick with patrol ships, warning off aviators of all kinds from approaching the Pirate Ship, which lay at rest and harmless by the north wall of the pool.

  Just before I retired to rest, the news of what was called "The Battle of the Moor" began to come through. The pirates, seeing their ship gone, had rushed up again into the house and held it with the courage of desperation. Only three of them survived, and were now locked up in the police station at Penzance.

  It would take many pages to detail the events of that crowded day, which did not end for me until ten o'clock at night, for I was forced to attend a congratulatory dinner at the Royal. Previous to that I had found it necessary to summon Danjuro from the May Flower, where he had remained quietly with Mr. Van Adams during the day. It was necessary that I should be restored to something like my former self, and only Danjuro could make me blond again! My moustache, alas, he could not restore.

  I had arranged to sleep at the station, where there were several bedrooms, and about ten-thirty I passed the sentry and entered the grounds.

  Plymouth was now quiet. It was a hot, dark night, with neither moon nor stars. During the day the weather had changed, and now thunder muttered far away at sea, and amethyst sheet lightning flickered on the horizon.

  Now and again a drop of hot rain fell.