The Case of the Flying Submarine
Adapted from THE SUBMARINE THAT SANK UPWARDS! by Anon. Amalgamated Press, 1926.
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The Struggle in the Clouds
A grey light in the east proclaimed the coming dawn, as Sexton Blake, in his seaplane, rose from the water outside Selport harbour, on the trail of the PXR1.
With the one idea of speed before him, Blake had declined the offer of a pilot. Besides, waiting for a pilot would have meant still more delay. Accordingly, he had chosen a small but powerful single-seater seaplane, which had the additional advantage of being ready to hand.
Expert pilot as he was, Sexton Blake felt quite at home with his hands on the controls of the speeding 'plane as it climbed like a bird into the misty sky.
He brought the machine round in a sweeping curve, and soared away down-Channel.
He was travelling at terrific speed, whereas he knew that the airship bearing the stolen submarine would only be capable of travelling comparatively slowly, burdened as it was.
"I ought to overhaul them before they cross the Carlovian border," he told himself with grim satisfaction.
"Jove, but this is a fast little bus if ever there was one!"
Gradually the sky grew lighter as he skimmed on through the clouds.
He began to have doubts as to whether, after all, he was going to succeed in overtaking his quarry in time. For if he ventured inside Carlovian border, he could never hope to accomplish his design.
And then at last, in the grey dawn light, he saw ahead of him that which he sought!
A strange enough sight it was, and he drew a quick breath as he peered ahead. Although he had expected it, it came almost as a shock to see, in actual fact, the PXR1 and its captor in mid-air.
"My word, I don't wonder those chaps at Selport weren't ready to believe me!" he told himself with a sudden chuckle. "The flying submarine! What a stunt! These Carlovians certainly are cool customers!"
He swooped down to a lower level. To his intense satisfaction he saw, as he drew nearer, that the great airship was flying very low as it approached a wide river which flowed to the sea from the great lakes on the western edge of Carlovia's border.
"She can't get very high with that great thing slung underneath," he told himself. "Good! That's what I want!"
He was overhauling the airship rapidly. Bigger and bigger it loomed, till he could even see the thin threads of the cables by which the submarine was grappled. Then Blake drew a sharp breath.
Away in the dim distance he had made out the hazy, glimmering sparkle of one of the lakes. The airship had almost reached its home country! If it got there before he could overhaul it, he could not save the PXR1!
"And what's more, it'll mean war if I fail!" he told himself with a worried frown. "But if I can save the submarine, the affair can be hushed up, with luck. Britain isn't afraid of Carlovia — not by long chalks! But war is always a thing to avoid at all costs."
But he realised a few moments later that he had no need for doubt. He was overtaking the airship far too swiftly for it to have any hope of getting over the border before he came up with it.
In a few minutes Blake was circling over the great air-vessel, watching, waiting.
Whether the Carlovians on board suspected his design, he did not know. The airship kept on steadily, now following the course of the river.
The seaplane was not a bombing machine, and was not fitted with the necessary apparatus for that purpose. But Blake had provided himself with a case of hand-grenades, and he held one in his hand now.
But he did not throw it, though the glistening envelope of the airship was close beneath him. Rapidly, coolly, Blake was making mental calculations. Could the submarine stand the shock of the fall into the river below?
Yes!
That was the answer he arrived at. At once he leaned over sideways in his seat and flung the grenade downward at the sleek back of the mighty air-vessel.
He did not have to throw another!
A tiny spurt of crimson appeared suddenly where the grenade had struck. In a moment it went licking along the shining silk, higher, bigger, till one end of the airship was a mass of quivering fire!
Soon the burning airship was dropping down to the river. There came a mighty, stupendous splash as the PXR1 took the water, rocked and almost turned turtle, then steadied and floated as if she had never been out of her natural element. Blake had calculated correctly. And the flaming mass that had once been a Carlovian airship drifted away to one side on the wind and came to rest on the water, too, still blazing.
Blake shuddered as he stared down.
"They asked for it, anyway!" he muttered to himself.
Then he turned to the controls, and brought the seaplane swooping down, bringing her gently to rest within a few yards of the PXR1.
* * *
Thanks to Blake's promptness, war was averted, for the whole affair was wisely hushed up by the British Government.
Since Carlovia had failed in her attempt, this country could well afford to let the matter stay as it was, and so avoid the terrible bloodshed of a great war. But had Carlovia succeeded in getting away with the PXR1, it would have been a different matter. Britain's honour would have been at stake, and war would have been inevitable, since Blake had been able to inform the Government that Carlovia was the country responsible for the loss of the submarine, and had been able to reinforce his reports from earlier in the year concerning the evil character of the rebels who currently held power in that desperate country.
As Blake said to Tinker later, when the two were back in their Baker Street house, the averting of another European war was perhaps the biggest thing he had ever done.
Just then, Pedro put his head on Tinker's knees, and the youngster, stretching out his hand, took a biscuit from a dish at his side. This he offered to the great bloodhound, but the dog only sniffed at it, then walked away.
Blake chuckled.
"It's a case of no work no pay with the old fellow, Tinker," he said. "Pedro resents the fact that he was not in the case of the flying submarine."
Tinker chuckled, too.
"But there's one thing that still puzzles me, guv'nor," he said. "Why did that sailor desert at Gallows Cove?"
"In order to send off a coded telegram to his friends, who by wireless instructed the Carlovian airship where to find the PXR1, Tinker."
Blake's face went grim. "A spy. His papers were forged. Got in, apparently, on the strength of being an engineering expert. He was that, and an expert spy."
"Well, I'm not sorry for him — specially when I remember how badly I got the wind up when I found myself up in the giddy clouds!" exclaimed Tinker with a sudden grin.
"That's one thing Carlovia can boast of, anyway; that they put the wind up you, of all people!" laughed Blake.
The End
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