WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
away, at a point where the country was well wooded.
A quarter of an hour had thus elapsed, when Mackenzie suddenly shouted, "Look, lads! There she goes! Now, let's teach 'em what Scots can do."
As he spoke there rose from behind the ridge a great dark mass, looking almost spectral in the thin morning mist. For a moment it seemed to poise and swing as if uncertain in its flight, then quickly it shot straight up towards the sky.
"Ready?" shouted Mackenzie, his momentary excitement having given place to great coolness. The men at their posts all answered in the affirmative. Mackenzie bent and waited for a few seconds sighting the gun, while the motor hummed with terrific speed. Then shouting "Fire!" he drew back the lever.
The gun discharged, but there was no report, only a sharp hiss as the compressed air released commenced to send charge after charge of dynamite automatically away into space in rapid succession!
None dared to breathe. The excitement was intense. They watched the effect upon the Russian balloon, but to their dismay saw it still rapidly ascending and unharmed!
It had altered its course, and instead of drifting away seaward was now travelling towards Duddingston, and making straight for Edinburgh, passing above the Russian camp.
"Missed! missed!" Mackenzie shrieked, turning back the lever and arresting the discharge. "It's four miles off now, and we can carry seven and three-quarters to hit a fixed object. Remember, lads, the fate of Auld Reekie is now in your hands! Ready?"
Again he bent and sighted the gun, raising the muzzle higher than the balloon so as to catch it on the ascent. The motor hummed louder and louder, the escaping air hissed and turned into liquid by the enormous pressure, then with a glance at the gauge he yelled "Fire!" and pulled back the lever.
Dynamite shells, ejected at the rate of 50 a minute, rushed from the muzzle, and sped away.
But the Demon of War, with its whirling propellers, continued on its swift, silent mission of destruction.
"Missed again!" cried one of the men, in despair. "See! it's gone! We've — good heavens! — why, we've lost it — lost it!"
Mackenzie, who had been glancing that moment at the gauges, gazed eagerly up, and staggered back as if he had received a blow. "It's disappeared!" he gasped. "They've outwitted us, the brutes, and nothing now can save Edinburgh from destruction!"
Officers and men stood aghast, with blanched faces, scarce knowing how to act. The destructive forces in that controllable balloon were more than sufficient to lay the whole of Edinburgh in ruins; and then, no doubt, the enemy would attempt by the same means to destroy the British batteries on the neighbouring hills. Already, along the valleys fighting had begun, for rapid firing could be heard in the direction of Gilmerton, and now and then the British guns on the Braid Hills behind spoke out sharply to the Russians who had occupied Loanhead, and the distant booming of cannon could be heard incessantly from Corstorphine.
Suddenly a loud, exultant cry from Mackenzie caused his companions to strain their eyes away to Duddingston, and there they saw high in the air the monster aërial machine gradually looming through the mist, a vague and shadowy outline. It had passed through a bank of cloud, and was gradually reappearing.
"Quick! There's not a moment to lose!" shrieked Mackenzie, springing to the lever with redoubled enthusiasm, an example followed by the others.
The motor revolved so rapidly that it roared, the gauges ran high, the escaping air hissed so loudly that Mackenzie was compelled to shout at the top of his voice "Ready?" as for a third time he took careful aim at the misty object now six miles distant.
The War Demon was still over the Russian camp, and in a few moments, travelling at that high rate of speed, it would pass over Arthur's Seat, and be enabled to drop its deadly compounds in Princes Street. But Mackenzie set his teeth, and muttered something under his breath.
"Now!" he ejaculated, as he suddenly pulled the lever, and for the last time sent forth the automatic shower of destructive shells.
A second later there was a bright flash from above as if the sun itself had burst, and then came a most terrific explosion, which caused the earth to tremble where they stood. The clouds were rent asunder by the frightful detonation, and down upon the Russian camp the débris of their ingenious invention fell in a terrible death-dealing shower. The annihilation of the dastardly plot to wreck the city was complete. Small dynamite shells from Mackenzie's pneumatic gun had struck the car of the balloon, and by the firing of half a ton of explosives the enemy was in an instant hoist with his own petard.
As the débris fell within the Russian lines, some fifty or sixty picric-acid bombs — awful engines of destruction — which had not been exploded in mid-air, crashed into the Muscovite ranks, and, bursting, killed and wounded hundreds of infantrymen and half a regiment of Cossacks. One, bursting in the enemy's headquarters, seriously injured several members of the staff; while another, falling among the Engineers' transport, exploded a great quantity of gun-cotton, which in its turn killed a number of men and horses.
The disaster was awful in its suddenness, appalling in its completeness. The aëronauts, totally unprepared for such an attack, had been blown to atoms just when within an ace of success.
Fortune had favoured Britain, and, thanks to Mackenzie's vigilance and his pneumatic dynamite gun, which the Government had rejected as a worthless weapon, the grey old city of Edinburgh was still safe.
But both Russians and Britons had now mustered their forces, and this, the first note sounded of a second terrific and desperately-fought battle, portended success for Britain's gallant army.
Yet notwithstanding the disaster the enemy sustained by the blowing up of their balloon, their 2nd Army Corps, together with the portion of the 3rd Army Corps operating from their base at Leith, succeeded, after terribly hard fighting and heavy losses, in at length forcing back the defenders from the Braid and Blackford Hills, and the Corstorphine position having already been occupied, they were then enabled to invest Edinburgh. That evening fierce sanguinary fights took place in the streets, for the people held the barricades until the last moment, and the batteries on Calton Hill, in St. Andrew's Square, and at the Castle effected terrible execution in conjunction with those on Arthur's Seat. Still the enemy by their overwhelming numbers gradually broke down these defences, and, after appalling slaughter on both sides, occupied the city. The fighting was fiercest along Princes Street, Lothian Road, and in the neighbourhood of Scotland Street Station, while along Cumberland and Great King Streets the enemy were swept away in hundreds by British Maxims brought to bear from Drummond Place. Along Canongate from Holyrood to Moray House, and in Lauriston Place and the Grassmarket, hand-to-hand struggles took place between the patriotic civilians and the foe. From behind their barricades men of Edinburgh fought valiantly, and everywhere inflicted heavy loss; still the enemy, pressing onward, set fire to a number of public buildings, including the Register Office, the Royal Exchange, the University, the Liberal and New Clubs, and Palace Hotel, with many other buildings in Princes Street. The fires, which broke out rapidly in succession, were caused for the purpose of producing a panic, and in this the enemy were successful, for the city was quickly looted, and the scenes of ruin, death, and desolation that occurred in its streets that night were awful.
In every quarter the homes of loyal Scotsmen were entered by the ruthless invader, who wrecked the cherished household gods, and carried away all the valuables that were portable. Outrage and murder were rife everywhere, and no quarter was shown the weak or unprotected. Through the streets the invader rushed with sword and firebrand, causing destruction, suffering, and death.
The defenders, though straining every nerve to stem the advancing tide, had, alas! been unsuccessful, and ere midnight Edinburgh, one of the proudest and most historic cities in the world, had fallen, and the British standard floating over the Castle was, alas! replaced by the Eagle of the Russian Autocrat.
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