The Lady of the Shroud - Bram Stoker (phonics reader txt) 📗

is for the

Voivode to put on. The Voivodin will take it with her when she

descends from the aeroplane into the Tower.”

 

Whilst any daylight was left I went out to survey the ground. My

wife wanted to come with me, but I would not let her. “No,” said I;

“you will have at the best a fearful tax on your strength and your

nerves. You will want to be as fresh as is possible when you get on

the aeroplane.” Like a good wife, she obeyed, and lay down to rest

in the little tent provided for her.

 

I took with me a local man who knew the ground, and who was trusted

to be silent. We made a long detour when we had got as near the

Silent Tower as we could without being noticed. I made notes from my

compass as to directions, and took good notice of anything that could

possibly serve as a landmark. By the time we got home I was pretty

well satisfied that if all should go well I could easily sail over

the Tower in the dark. Then I had a talk with my wife, and gave her

full instructions:

 

“When we arrive over the Tower,” I said, “I shall lower you with a

long rope. You will have a parcel of food and spirit for your father

in case he is fatigued or faint; and, of course, the bullet-proof

suit, which he must put on at once. You will also have a short rope

with a belt at either end—one for your father, the other for you.

When I turn the aeroplane and come back again, you will have ready

the ring which lies midway between the belts. This you will catch

into the hook at the end of the lowered rope. When all is secure,

and I have pulled you both up by the windlass so as to clear the top,

I shall throw out ballast which we shall carry on purpose, and away

we go! I am sorry it must be so uncomfortable for you both, but

there is no other way. When we get well clear of the Tower, I shall

take you both up on the platform. If necessary, I shall descend to

do it—and then we shall steer for Ilsin.”

 

“When all is safe, our men will attack the Tower. We must let them

do it, for they expect it. A few men in the clothes and arms which

we took from your captors will be pursued by some of ours. It is all

arranged. They will ask the Turks to admit them, and if the latter

have not learned of your father’s escape, perhaps they will do so.

Once in, our men will try to open the gate. The chances are against

them, poor fellows! but they are all volunteers, and will die

fighting. If they win out, great glory will be theirs.”

 

“The moon does not rise to-night till just before midnight, so we

have plenty of time. We shall start from here at ten. If all be

well, I shall place you in the Tower with your father in less than a

quarter-hour from that. A few minutes will suffice to clothe him in

bullet-proof and get on his belt. I shall not be away from the Tower

more than a very few minutes, and, please God, long before eleven we

shall be safe. Then the Tower can be won in an attack by our

mountaineers. Perhaps, when the guns are heard on the ship of war—

for there is sure to be firing—the Captain may try to land a shore

party. But Rooke will stand in the way, and if I know the man and

The Lady, we shall not be troubled with many Turks to-night. By

midnight you and your father can be on the way to Vissarion. I can

interview the naval Captain in the morning.”

 

My wife’s marvellous courage and self-possession stood to her. At

half an hour before the time fixed she was ready for our adventure.

She had improved the scheme in one detail. She had put on her own

belt and coiled the rope round her waist, so the only delay would be

in bringing her father’s belt. She would keep the bullet-proof dress

intended to be his strapped in a packet on her back, so that if

occasion should be favourable he would not want to put it on till he

and she should have reached the platform of the aeroplane. In such

case, I should not steer away from the Tower at all, but would pass

slowly across it and take up the captive and his brave daughter

before leaving. I had learned from local sources that the Tower was

in several stories. Entrance was by the foot, where the great ironclad door was; then came living-rooms and storage, and an open space

at the top. This would probably be thought the best place for the

prisoner, for it was deep-sunk within the massive walls, wherein was

no loophole of any kind. This, if it should so happen, would be the

disposition of things best for our plan. The guards would at this

time be all inside the Tower—probably resting, most of them—so that

it was possible that no one might notice the coming of the airship.

I was afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in such

case our task would be a simple enough one, and would in all human

probability be crowned with success.

 

At ten o’clock we started. Teuta did not show the smallest sign of

fear or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had even

seen an aeroplane at work. She proved to be an admirable passenger

for an airship. She stayed quite still, holding herself rigidly in

the position arranged, by the cords which I had fixed for her.

 

When I had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit

by the Tiny my electric light in the dark box, I had time to look

about me. All seemed quite dark wherever I looked—to land, or sea,

or sky. But darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot

looked dark in turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole.

I could tell the difference, for instance, between land and sea, no

matter how far off we might be from either. Looking upward, the sky

was dark; yet there was light enough to see, and even distinguish

broad effects. I had no difficulty in distinguishing the Tower

towards which we were moving, and that, after all, was the main

thing. We drifted slowly, very slowly, as the air was still, and I

only used the minimum pressure necessary for the engine. I think I

now understood for the first time the extraordinary value of the

engine with which my Kitson was equipped. It was noiseless, it was

practically of no weight, and it allowed the machine to progress as

easily as the old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze.

Teuta, who had naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better

than I did, for as we drew nearer to the Tower, and its round, open

top began to articulate itself, she commenced to prepare for her part

of the task. She it was who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for

her lowering. We were proceeding so gently that she as well as I had

hopes that I might be able to actually balance the machine on the top

of the curving wall—a thing manifestly impossible on a straight

surface, though it might have been possible on an angle.

 

On we crept—on, and on! There was no sign of light about the Tower,

and not the faintest sound to be heard till we were almost close to

the line of the rising wall; then we heard a sound of something like

mirth, but muffled by distance and thick walls. From it we took

fresh heart, for it told us that our enemies were gathered in the

lower chambers. If only the Voivode should be on the upper stage,

all would be well.

 

Slowly, almost inch by inch, and with a suspense that was agonizing,

we crossed some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wall. I

could see as we came near the jagged line of white patches where the

heads of the massacred Turks placed there on spikes in old days

seemed to give still their grim warning. Seeing that they made in

themselves a difficulty of landing on the wall, I deflected the plane

so that, as we crept over the wall, we might, if they became

displaced, brush them to the outside of the wall. A few seconds

more, and I was able to bring the machine to rest with the front of

the platform jutting out beyond the Tower wall. Here I anchored her

fore and aft with clamps which had been already prepared.

 

Whilst I was doing so Teuta had leaned over the inner edge of the

platform, and whispered as softly as the sigh of a gentle breeze

 

“Hist! hist!” The answer came in a similar sound from some twenty

feet below us, and we knew that the prisoner was alone. Forthwith,

having fixed the hook of the rope in the ring to which was attached

her belt, I lowered my wife. Her father evidently knew her whisper,

and was ready. The hollow Tower—a smooth cylinder within—sent up

the voices from it faint as were the whispers:

 

“Father, it is I—Teuta!”

 

“My child, my brave daughter!”

 

“Quick, father; strap the belt round you. See that it is secure. We

have to be lifted into the air if necessary. Hold together. It will

be easier for Rupert to lift us to the airship.”

 

“Rupert?”

 

“Yes; I shall explain later. Quick, quick! There is not a moment to

lose. He is enormously strong, and can lift us together; but we must

help him by being still, so he won’t have to use the windlass, which

might creak.” As she spoke she jerked slightly at the rope, which

was our preconcerted signal that I was to lift. I was afraid the

windlass might creak, and her thoughtful hint decided me. I bent my

back to the task, and in a few seconds they were on the platform on

which they, at Teuta’s suggestion, lay flat, one at each side of my

seat, so as to keep the best balance possible.

 

I took off the clamps, lifted the bags of ballast to the top of the

wall, so that there should be no sound of falling, and started the

engine. The machine moved forward a few inches, so that it tilted

towards the outside of the wall. I threw my weight on the front part

of the platform, and we commenced our downward fall at a sharp angle.

A second enlarged the angle, and without further ado we slid away

into the darkness. Then, ascending as we went, when the engine began

to work at its strength, we turned, and presently made straight for

Ilsin.

 

The journey was short—not many minutes. It almost seemed as if no

time whatever had elapsed till we saw below us the gleam of lights,

and by them saw a great body of men gathered in military array. We

slackened and descended. The crowd kept deathly silence, but when we

were amongst them we needed no telling that it was not due to lack of

heart or absence of joy. The pressure of their hands as they

surrounded us, and the devotion with which they kissed the hands and

feet of both the Voivode and his daughter, were evidence enough for

me, even had I not had my own share of their grateful rejoicing.