Читать книгу The Memory Man - Coutts Brisbane - Страница 5

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"TO challenge all persons approaching my post—though 'ow the 'ell I'll see anyone ten foot away in this blinkin' smother beats me!" rumbled James Clifton, A.B., profanely making additions and alterations to his Sentry's Duties Orders as he nearly collided with his particular pal, Cubby Hart, who, walking noiselessly, had emerged from the rolling fog wreaths that encompassed the dock and the hangar behind it, wherein reposed Sky Ranger, Mark IV., Ho. Ov. 3o, the flying-boat that had that morning penetrated those high altitudes where very few planes had heretofore soared.

"Pursuin' which," went on James, "it becomes my bounden dooty to ask you what the blue blazes you're doin' here, not being cast for this partic'lar form of hilarious enjoyment? Speak on, and also let's 'ear why you've brought along that club."

"Doin' sentry go meself this morning, while all those perishin' brass hats were watching doings, I saw three darlings sitting pretty away back amongst the marram. They had glasses and a camera, and they were takin' what you'd call an uncommon strong interest in proceedings."

"And why didn't you cover yourself with glory by tryin' to grab the blights?" asked James. "Nasty espions, that's what they were."

"Seeing that this blessed sky rocket hasn't been photographed by newspaper chaps more than twenty times, and by the news movies about fourteen times, I reckoned they were welcome to all they could pick up. But I took enough of them in to recognize 'em again half an hour ago when I came back from the village. Leaning on the sea wall, they were, looking this way as far as the fog would let 'cm. Therefore I plucked this twig from the Loot's collection, and came to reinforce you."

"Meanin' by that, you expect the three to pay a visit hither?" said James doubtfully.

"Not otherwise, Jimsey. If I'd made a bobbery down along on the beach yonder, I'd like as not been called a fool for interferin' with harmless tourists. Up here, if we chance to encounter the pippins, it's zeal and smart work, and mebbe another tuppence a week. Continue your per-amb-oolations, brother, while I go lie doggo inside the hangar doorway. Don't talk. I've got my hopes."

"Anyone that called you potty'd be an unxush flatterer!" growled James and resumed his pacing as Cubby Hart melted into the darker blur that indicated the hangar door.

Perhaps there might be something in Cubby's notion, he reflected, for the range-finder was a hush-hush affair, the sort of thing that half a dozen foreign powers would give a lot to get hold of. James had been greatly impressed himself, and it was likely enough that these watchers had been impressed also. Well, if they were fools enough to come snooping round they wouldn't find anything, anyhow. The range-finder and its gadgets were not in the plane any more, but safely locked away.

To and fro, fro and to! James invented a perfectly new and quite unpublishable name for the first man who invented sentry go, and said it aloud in several different keys five times. It was as he was saying it for a sixth time that something like a long silver wire jetted from behind the mooring bollard at the end of his beat, and took him on the chin, bursting into a sort of icy spray that instantly dissolved into gas.

"Urrrh!" gasped James, and reeled. Rifle and bayonet clashed to the boards, his knees dotbled under him, and sinking forward, he fell on his face, senseless.

Three dark figures materialized from behind the bollard. They did not pause to examine James. They knew that having inhaled a whiff of that gas he was safe for an hour or two at least. They glided ghostlike towards the hangar door.

"And the Lord said unto Cubby Hart, smite the blighters!" murmured Cubby happily, and charged.

A fist met and slowed him, but the blow he discharged' sent the bestower stumbling back against the others. A swinging leg tripped him, he dropped on his knees, slashed at a retreating form, heard a howl of pain, dragged himself up, discovering as he did so that he had a wrenched ankle. With curses and clatter the three shadows were bolting across the wharf.

Cubby made a stumbling hop, sprawled over friend James, and grabbing his rifle, flung it to his shoulder and let drive. Happily he emptied the magazine in the general direction of the line of flight. And very shortly after officers and men swarmed out and about, there was racing and chasing, a very private little inquiry, and two ratings in sick bay—but no prisoners.

By taking thought over their symptoms, James and Cubby contrived to spin out convalescence for three days, living high on medical comforts, and basking in the warmth of official approval.

Nothing more happened in the neighbourhood of the hangar. Illicit activity concerning that new and very effective range-finder for aircraft had been very effectually discouraged, and all was peace.