Toward the close of a cool, pleasant day in September, 18—, the residents of the village of Readestown were startled by seeing a horseman come dashing furiously into the town.
He was a middle-aged man, with dark, swarthy features, piercing black eyes, a black mustache and dark hair. His slender figure was clad in the costume of a native Mexican, and he rode like an expert.
The man bestrode a fine, swift bay mare, and as he went thundering through the main street enveloped in a cloud of dust at the top of the mare’s speed, he attracted considerable attention.
The horse finally paused before a palatial mansion, out of the gate of which a beautiful young woman was coming, and the Mexican politely raised his sombrero and asked in good English:
“Senora, can you direct me to the home of Frank Reade, Jr.?”
“This house is his residence,” replied the lady, curiously eyeing the man.
“Ah! Thank you! Do you know if he is in?”
“He has gone away.”
“Gone!” gasped the man in startled tones.
“Half an hour ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I should know, as I am his wife.”
“But he will return soon?” eagerly asked the man.
“No; perhaps not for several weeks.”
“Dios mio! How unfortunate for me! The train I came on from Boston broke down a league from here, and in my haste to reach this place in season to catch him ere he departed, I hired this horse and came in the saddle.”
“What a pity you arrived too late!”
“Yes, indeed; for it is with me a matter of life or death.”
“I am astonished.”
“He has, of course, gone in his new flying machine?”
“Exactly so, sir.”
“When I landed from Mexico I read in the daily paper that he had finished his marvelous invention, and intended to make a trial trip in it this evening.”
“Was your business important, sir?”
“Very. So much so that I came all the way here from Mexico to see him in relation to his new air-ship.”
“I am very sorry you failed to get here in time.”
“You have no idea of my own anxiety, senora.”
“Perhaps I might direct you so you could find him.”
“Do so, and I shall be very grateful indeed.”
“Well, the machine ran against the wind, which blows from the southwest, and made a successful ascension. The last I saw of it it was heading due southwest of here. Just five miles away in that direction lies the town of Foxhall, at which Frank intends to pause awhile to examine the air-ship and see how it stood the initial test. By going there with all speed, you might reach him before he sends the air-ship aloft again.”
“Thank you a thousand times. I shall try the plan.”
And doffing his hat to her again, he started his mare off in the indicated direction at a furious gallop.
Off sped the gallant beast, watched by the wife of the inventor of the flying machine, and he soon reached the open prairie and urged his steed along at a breakneck pace.
The Frank Reade, Jr., in question was a famous inventor of steam, electrical and mechanical inventions of various kinds.
He had completed building the greatest air-ship he had ever conceived of, and had added a crown to the glory of his great talent.
The inventor was then a mere youth in years, and had as companions on his pleasure trip two tried and trusted friends.
One was a rollicking Irishman, with a good-natured, freckled face, a red head, and a devil-may-care disposition, named Barney.
The other was a short darky, with long arms and a comical face, who answered to the name of Pomp.
The Mexican knew all about the three, as the newspapers of the period frequently referred to them in relation to the journeys they had made together in former inventions which Frank had conceived.
He rode along at a pace that was bound to kill his horse if he maintained it too long, and kept his burning, eager glance fixed upon the sky in expectation of seeing the strange invention.
It was a long ride, and to the rider it seemed to occupy ages.
“I shall—I must see him!” he muttered, desperately, as his mare sped over the broad expanse of prairie. “If Frank Reade, Jr., will do as I ask he shall be rewarded with a treasure which must surpass that of a king. Oh, my poor little boy! He will certainly be sacrificed by the Terror of the Coast if the inventor refuses to aid me in rescuing him!”
Tears welled up into his eyes at the thought of the peril in which his little son was placed.
But in a sudden paroxysm of resolution he dashed them away and muttered hoarsely:
“No, no, no! I must not weakly give way to tears. It is a time for action—not repining. On, my good horse, on, on, and do what you can to carry me to my destination in time to make one effort to save my child’s life.”
Urging would not make the mare go faster, for she was then doing her best, and fairly snorting from the violent exertion.
Within half an hour the town of Foxhall appeared in view, and the Mexican’s heart leaped with joy as the twinkling lights of the windows met his glance in the distance.
This feeling was rudely dashed, however, when, upon a nearer approach to the settlement, he saw a huge object rise from the ground and soar up into the sky ahead.
It then sped away from the settlement, going in a southeasterly direction, and the man gave a groan of anguish.
“There is the flying machine now!” he gasped.
Nor was he mistaken.
The peculiar object was two enormous aluminum planes on a framework of steel, held aloft by strong metal posts.
At the forward part was a smaller plane, the deflections and inflections of which changed the angle of movement of the machine.
Two enormous propellers drove the air-ship ahead by whirling at a tremendous speed, and the car was oblong forward, with a long ram, wheels at each side for running over the ground, and a flat stern, at which hung a rudder for use in water.
Forward on deck stood a huge electric motor for operating the drive wheels, and before it a powerful searchlight was fastened.
The after deck was covered by a bullet-proof wire cage, and the pilot occupied a small conning tower under the forward deck.
It was very evident that the principle of operating the Jove, as the ship was named, was by imitating a boy’s kite.
Simply by driving the planes against the wind caused the air to lift the machine into the sky, and once elevated, by keeping it constantly moving, suspension was sustained.
There was a man in the turret, and two men on deck.
The Mexican could plainly distinguish their outlines, and a mad, baffled feeling overwhelmed him.
“Must I lose after all the exertion I put forth?” he groaned, hoarsely. “No! By heavens, I’ll chase that machine till my steed falls dead beneath me, and I’ll scream till my voice leaves me to attract their attention.”
He raced on wildly after the flying air-ship.
He shouted, he waved his handkerchief, and he raved at his horse to go faster.
It was a wild and fearful ride, and it seemed to the unfortunate man as if the Jove was fast leaving him behind as it glided through the dusky sky.
On, on, on raced the pursuer and pursued over the open country, and several miles were thus covered.
Finally the mare tripped and fell.
The man’s heart sank as he leaped from her back to avoid being injured under her body.
“Merciful Heavens! This ends it!” he groaned, in despair, as he landed upon his feet upon the ground.
That fall killed the gallant mare.
But the man paid no heed to her, for all his time and attention were taken up staring at the Jove.
Suddenly he started, bent forward eagerly, and a thrill of joy ran through him as he saw the great air-ship go in a circle, drop lower into another strata of air, and approach him.
“They see me! They see me at last!” he gasped.
Up to him swept the huge air navigator, until at last it was hovering three hundred feet aloft, just above his head.
“Hello, there!” came a hail from above.
“Take me aboard!” screamed the Mexican.
“Were you chasing us?”
“Yes—for many miles.”
“What do you want?”
“It is a desperate case. I’ll explain——”
“Come up here and explain yourself.”
“Thank God!” fervently muttered the stranger.
As this exclamation escaped his lips a long, light rope ladder came flying down through the air.
One end of it was fastened to the air-ship.
The other end landed near the Mexican, and he rushed forward, seized it, and began to climb up.
It was a risky climb, for the ladder swayed with every movement he made while ascending.
He grimly kept on, though.
In a few moments he reached the deck aft.
Here the two men seized him and helped him up.
At the same moment the air-ship turned and dashed up higher into the atmosphere and resumed its journey south-westward.
The extra weight of the Mexican seemed to make but slight difference in the buoyancy of the machine.
He now turned his attention upon the two occupants of the cage, one of whom was Frank Reade, Jr.
For a few moments a deep silence ensued between the three, for they were sizing each other up keenly.
The Mexican observed that Frank was a fine-looking young man, with an athletic figure, clad in a traveling costume. His handsome face showed a good disposition and a high order of courage.
Ramey was the person with him, and he held a violin, upon which he had been playing a lively tune.
Finally the Mexican spoke.
“You are Frank Reade, Jr., I believe?”
“I am,” admitted the inventor, “and you——”
“Juan Zamora, the alcalde, or head man of the town of Santa Cruz, Mexico, on the Gulf coast.”
“I am pleased to know you, sir. What do you want of me?”
“A week ago I read an account of this extraordinary air-ship, and I came at once to Readestown to try to hire the machine.”
“I regret to say I will not let it.”
“Ah, but I will pay you a princely sum for one month’s use of the machine. I am a rich man and can afford to. Besides the sum of fifty thousand dollars, I will put a pirate’s treasure into your hands which is worth millions of dollars.”
“Your offer is extraordinary, Mr. Zamora.”
“But it is actuated by a most potent cause.”
“So I imagined. But explain your reason.”
“I shall. On the coast of Mexico there is a pirates’ retreat. It is ruled by an American outlaw called Captain Diavolo. His gang numbers several hundred men—the scum of all nations. He owns a fleet of swift ships that prey upon passing vessels. In these attacks he is always successful—all hands are killed, and the captured vessels are plundered and scuttled. Many a ship that never came back, but mysteriously disappeared, merely fell a victim to the Terror of the Coast, as we call this fiend.”
“I have never heard of him,” said Frank.
“No; for never has one of his victims escaped to tell of his crimes.”
“What has all this to do with you?”
“I am coming to that part presently. The Mexican Government did everything possible to get rid of him, but all its efforts proved to be of no avail. He successfully eluded them all. Perhaps his most relentless enemy was myself. I did all I could to break up his infernal crew, and aroused his wrath. He swore to avenge himself upon me; to carry out his vengeance, he one night invaded Santa Cruz with every man he could muster, and shot every one on sight. Having driven out the inhabitants, he plundered and set fire to many of the dwellings. My little five-year-old son, Leon, was carried away into captivity by the wretches, with myself, and Captain Diavolo told me that he was going to torture me to death. As for my child, they swore to educate him to become one of the foulest ruffians on earth, so that if he were finally captured, he would meet a violent doom.”
“Horrible!” muttered Frank, with a shudder.
“Imagine my feelings,” said Zamora. “However, let it suffice that after a week of captivity among the pirates, I saw the great treasure they had amassed and learned all the secrets of their retreat. Before the day of my execution I escaped. After many hardships I returned to my native town. It was while I was there that I learned of this flying machine, and gained the idea that I might hire it to attack my enemies and rescue my little child from their clutches.”
“So that’s what you want the Jove for, eh?”
“Exactly. I am in momentary fear that Captain Diavolo may take it into his head to kill poor little Leon, and therefore am impatient to go to his rescue as soon as possible.”
“Can’t your Government aid you?”
“Not in the least. I have already attempted to get relief from that source, but failed. Only by utilizing some such contrivance as this can I hope to succeed.”
Frank was intensely interested in the man’s story, and when Zamora had told him how he had gone to Readestown and then chased the machine, he began to ponder deeply.
An idea flashed into his mind, and he said to Barney:
“I have faith in this unfortunate man’s story.”
“Faix! I have that same,” replied the Irishman.
“And I am going to help him.”
“More power ter yer for doin’ so.”
“We have no particular purpose in view. One has arisen. Suppose we go to the Gulf Coast and wipe out this Terror? Would you like to undertake it, Barney?”
“Wud a dook swim?” grinned the Celt, for the prospect of lots of fighting and excitement just suited his taste.
Frank then shouted to Pomp, who stood steering in the conning tower:
“Did you hear what was said, Pomp?”
“’Deed I did, Marse Frank,” the coon replied.
“What do you think of my plan?”
“Sabe de pickaninny an’ wallop dem yere pirates, sah?”
“That’s my idea.”
“Gwine fo’ ter git a fo’tune fo’ doin’ dat?”
“Senor Zamora says he will show us where the pirates’ treasure is if we break up the gang, so we can take it away.”
“Close de bargain, honey; close de bargain!”