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  The Angel Of The Revolution George Chetwynd Griffith

A Skirmish In The Clouds


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A Few minutes after two on the following morning, that is to say on the 28th, the electric signal leading from the conning-tower of the Ithuriel to the wall of Arnold's cabin, just above his berth, sounded. As it was only permitted to be used on occasions of urgency, he knew that his presence was immediately required forward for some good reason, and so he turned out at once, threw a dressing-gown over his sleeping suit, and within three minutes was standing in the conning-tower beside Andrew Smith, whose watch it then happened to be.

"Well, Smith, what's the matter?"

"Fleet of war-balloons coming up from the south'ard, sir. You can just see 'em, sir, coming on in line under that long bank of cloud."

The captain of the Ithuriel took the night-glasses, and looked eagerly in the direction pointed out by his keen-eyed coxswain. As soon as he picked them up he had no difficulty in making out twelve small dark spots in line at regular intervals sharply defined against a band of light that lay between the earth and a long dark bank of clouds.

It was a division of the Tsar's aerial fleet, returning from some work of death and destruction in the south to rejoin the main force before Berlin. Arnold's course was decided on in an instant. He saw a chance of turning the tables on his Majesty in a fashion that he would find as unpleasant as it would be unexpected. He turned to his coxswain and said--

"How is the wind, Smith?"

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"Nor'-nor'-west, with perhaps half a point more north in it, sir. About a ten-knot breeze--at least that's the drift that Mr. Marston's allowing for."

"Yes, that's near enough. Then those fellows, if they are going full speed, are coming up at about twenty miles an hour, or not quite that. They're nearly twenty miles off, as nearly as I can judge in this light. What do you make it?"

"That's about it, sir; rather less than more, if anything, to my mind."

"Very well, then. Now signal to stop, and send up the fan-wheels; and tell the Ariel and the Orion to close up and speak."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the coxswain, as he saluted and disappeared. Arnold at once went back to his cabin and dressed, telling his second officer, Frank Marston, a young Englishman, whom he had chosen to take Mazanoff's place, to do the same as quietly as possible, as he did not wish to awaken any of his three passengers just at present.

By the time he got on deck the three air-ships had slowed down considerably, and the two consorts of the Ithuriel were within easy speaking distance. Mazanoff and Tremayne were both on deck, and to them he explained his plans as follows--

 
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The Angel Of The Revolution
George Chetwynd Griffith

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