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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.
RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
THE gang were busy at the usual task—clearing stone and ditching. Of course, they worked as slackly as they could. Convicts always do; but in spite of Marvin's prophecies of ill, they were all quiet and well behaved. They talked among themselves in that curious, silent speech which every old lag learns, and which he can use without the slightest motion of his lips.
Gregory knew that they talked, but did not interfere. No warder who knows his business ever does.
Suddenly one of the men whom he was watching glanced up at the sky, and Gregory saw him nudge his companion, who also looked up.
Gregory turned and cast a quick look in the same direction.
To his surprise, the balloon had left its moorings, and was sailing across the prison farm. Already it was within a few hundred yards, and wafted by the light breeze, looked as though it would pass almost overhead.
A weighted guide rope trailed from the car, keeping the great gasbag within about a couple of hundred feet of the ground.
Warren, the principal warder, called across to Gregory:
"Shout to them to get higher, Mr. Gregory. They've no business to come close over the farm."
Gregory made a trumpet of his hands and hailed the occupants of the balloon.
They shouted back, but he could not make out what they said.
By this time the balloon was within a hundred yards of the spot where the gang was working. One of the two men in her was pulling in the trailing rope, but the only result seemed to be to bring the big balloon slightly nearer to the ground.
"It's all right, Mr. Warren," said Gregory. "They'll clear us by fifty yards."
The words were barely out of his mouth, before a man in the gang dropped his spade, and made a sudden lightning-like dash for the end of the trailing rope.
It was Ducane.
On the spur of the moment, Gregory, thinking he could cut the fellow off, sprang after him.
For a moment he almost had his hand on the man's collar, but Ducane's long legs gave him a surprising turn of speed, and he gained the trailing rope of the balloon a yard ahead of the young warder, and made a flying leap, seized it three yards up and twisted his legs in it.
"Come down, you fool!" shouted Gregory, seizing him by the leg.
What Ducane was up to he could not imagine. He surely did not suppose that army officers were going to help him to escape.
Ducane, however, hung on with all his might, and next moment, to Gregory's utter amazement, a shower of sand came battling about his ears, and the balloon leaped upward.
More by instinct than anything else, Gregory clutched the rope below Ducane. The next thing he knew was that he had been jerked off mother earth, and was dangling in midair, with the prison field receding beneath him at an uncomfortable speed.
He heard shouts from below, the sharp, snapping crack of carbines then more ballast came whistling by, and the balloon rose more rapidly. A horrible dizziness forced him to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he found that Ducane was climbing up the rope toward the car, while a man leaned over the edge of the basket-work and shouted encouragement.
Where had he seen that face before? In a moment he remembered. It was the crooked-nosed stranger who had spoken to him on the previous Saturday.
In a flash Gregory understood. This was no military balloon, but a part of a preconcerted plan to procure Ducane's escape.
A pang of real terror clutched his heart, for suddenly he realized that if Ducane reached the car first, his friends probably would cut the rope at once, as the easiest means of getting rid of himself.
Setting his teeth, he began to climb desperately. The rope wobbled and swung, but he had no time to think of anything but catching up with Ducane, and before the fellow reached the edge of the car he had clutched him by the leg with a grip like that of a steel trap.
Ducane was too fagged out to struggle, and he and Gregory together were dragged over the rim of the car and tumbled in a heap into the bottom.
"I didn't ask you to bring your friends with you, Ducane," said the sneering voice of the crooked-nosed man, and before Gregory could regain his breath the follow had pinned him, and snatching up a bit of cord, had made his wrists fast.
"I didn't invite him to come," replied Ducane, sitting up and looking at Gregory, with a slight smile on his thin lips.
"Three's plenty weight enough," came another voice sulkily.
It was the broken-nosed man's assistant, a hard-faced person of thirty.
"We can't carry four. We didn't ask the screw to come. Chuck him over, that's what I say."
Ducane glanced over the side.
"Well, we're out of sight of the stone jug already," he remarked reflectively, "and I don't want to put Gregory through it unless we have to. Won't she carry us four as far as Tarnmouth?"
"Suppose we've got to try, as that's the way you feel about it," replied Lukyn, with very bad grace.
For some time Lukyn did not speak, though Ducane and the broken-nosed man carried on a whispered conversation.
Then the balloon gave a sodden swerve and spin.
Lukyn uttered a sharp exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Ducane.
"Wind's changed, and getting up a lot. We shan't touch Tarnmouth," replied Lukyn sourly.
"We must try to drop somewhere along the coast," said Ducane. "We ought to be able to hire a fishing boat before they get after us."
"They'll have warned every place in the south by now," said the broken-nosed man apprehensively. "If we could only have reached the yacht it would have been all right."
"I've faith in my lucky star," answered Ducane lightly.
"You'll need a lot," sneered Lukyn. "It's breezing up every minute, chances are we'll be carried out to sea."
Lukyn was evidently right. The sky, so bright an hour ago, was now stained with long strips of windy cirrus clouds. The balloon spun in the grip of a gathering gale.
Lukyn looked over.
"There's the coast," he said anxiously. "All rocks and cliffs. I daren't bring her down here."
"We're dropping fast," said the crooked-nosed man, in sudden panic. "Ducane, there's no help for it. We'll have to put the screw over."
"It's a pity," said Ducane thoughtfully, "but needs must. You know best, Gregory. I'm really sorry, for you have always treated me with a certain consideration lamentably lacking among your fellows. Have a drink before you go, just to show there's no ill feeling."
Gregory's answer was a startling one. Unknown to the rest he had been busy for the past hour chafing the cord which bound his wrists against one of the iron ring plates which ran down the corners of the car. Now at last they were free. With one spring he was on his feet, and seizing the rip-cord which hung down through the mouth of the gasbag, flung all his weight on it.
There was a sharp, tearing sound above, and as the gas streamed out through the great rent the balloon dropped rapidly.
With a howl of fury Lukyn flung himself upon Gregory, who met him with a straight drive from the right fist.
The deflated gasbag, caught by the wind, streamed out before the gale, tilting the car at a dangerous angle.
Gregory's blow sent Lukyn staggering backward down the sloping floor of the car, and with a wild yell he lost his balance and disappeared from sight.
Before anything else could happen the car struck the sea with a tremendous splash, flinging them all three down in a heap.
Gregory stared round, and his heart leap, as he caught sight of the smoke of a small steamer about a mile away.
"There's a chance for us still," he said. "Yes, she's seen us. Hang on. We'll save our bacon yet, and be hauled back to the moor."
"No, it's not good enough," answered Ducane, and let go of the rope.
Gregory was just in time to seize him before he flung himself into the wild sea.
FIVE minutes later, when the steam trawler Maid of Brixham reached the derelict balloon, her crew found the three survivors all in a heap in the bottom of the car, which was half full of water, and of the lot, Gregory, who was still hanging on to Ducane like grim death, was the only one who showed any signs of life.
They hauled them aboard with much difficulty, and with hot drink and hot blankets got Ducane and Gregory around. But the broken-nosed man was beyond help.
Ducane is back in Moorlands. He accepts the situation with his usual equanimity. Gregory remains his very good friend, and has some sort of hope that now that his evil associates have departed this life, Ducane, on his release, will employ his considerable talents in earning an honest livelihood.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.