"Tow her off as soon as possible and take her down the river. I hope
before night to get into wireless communication with the officer
commanding H.M.S. ’Pique,’ and hand the prize over to him. He can then
tow her to Cape Town and there the necessary transactions can be
effected. But I must be going. If you will excuse us we will bid you
good-day. Perhaps we may meet again in the near future."
Upon re-embarking Captain Jones gave the order for half speed ahead, and
the "Pride of Rhodesia," at a modest twenty-five miles an hour, flew
over the course of the tributary at a height of less than five hundred
feet.
Glasses were brought to bear upon the country beneath them, and every
rock and shoal in the river was thus carefully examined. The "Vorwartz"
had almost reached the limit for navigation, for at less than a mile
above the spot where she had stranded the river shallowed considerably
and was interrupted by a series of cataracts. In one of these Hythe
spotted a brass-bound box wedged in between two rocks, and by the
identification letters on its side Captain Restronguet knew that it was
one from a liner’s strong-room.
"They’ve been in difficulties already," he observed. "They’ve had to
jettison some of their booty. Judging by the state of the river, I
don’t think they can have gone very far."
"There’s a dense forest ahead," announced Captain Jones. "That makes
our task more difficult. If the rascals have taken it into their heads
to make a way through the trees, the thick foliage will screen them from
view. However, I’ll keep up-stream for some distance yet. Perhaps they
haven’t the sense of caution to destroy their boat or haul it up out of
sight. However, we will see."
"No chance of a boat getting over that," exclaimed the sub, as after a
short interval the airship came in view of a waterfall quite forty feet
in height and extending from bank to bank. As the "Pride of Rhodesia"
drew nearer the noise of the falling water almost outvoiced the purr of
the airship’s motors. One glance was sufficient to show that nothing
afloat would be able to surmount that formidable barrier.
"There’s their boat," bawled Captain Jones, into the ear of his
successful rival.
He was right. Lying half-way up the steep bank, and only partially
screened by the foliage, was a craft of native construction. Two or
three paddles, a length of rope and a piece of canvas lay within it,
while a jagged hole close to the water-line showed that the boat had
come to grief against one of the sharp rocks with which the bed of the
river abounded.
"See any tracks?" asked Captain Restronguet.
Hythe, to whom the question was addressed, was minutely studying the
ground through a powerful pair of binoculars.
"Not much doubt about it, sir," he replied. "There’s a well-defined
track leading in a south-easterly direction. I can follow it as far as
those trees."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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