CHAPTER XXVIII
A MIX-UP IN DATES
Paul's announcement threw his friends into a state of consternation.As they viewed the wire braces, neatly cut with a pair of nippers, theyrecalled Pete Deveaux's act of whispering in the ear of one of hisparty just preceding the recent fight, and realized now its fullimport. This fellow had slunk out of the crowd, slipped over to theunguarded airplane, and performed the unprincipled trick without anyrisk of being caught at it.
Since there was no chance for immediate redress from the guilty party,who were almost out of sight to the eastward, all our flyers could dowas to bend every effort to make repairs as fast as possible. Afterconsiderable skirmishing around, they managed to secure some wire fromone of the vessels in the harbor. The severed strands were thenremoved and new pieces cut to length.
It was found that the weight of the machine upon the unsupported skid,had cracked the skid past repair; so they had to whittle out anotherfrom some tough wood, which the natives brought them from the nearbyforest, before they could connect the new wires and were ready to start.
Finally they took off at a few minutes past noon, more than three hoursbehind their rivals. It was disheartening, to say the least--all themore so on account of the fact that their delay had again been causedby the sinister acts of the other crew. They made up their minds thatif they should meet Pete Deveaux and his crowd at another stop,something worse than a single fistic encounter would take place!
As they soared away toward Nukahiva, with Upolu growing constantlydimmer, John, who had been studying the schedule, turned to hiscompanions and asked:
"Do any of you fellows know what date this is?"
"Let's see," mused Bob, at the throttle; "we left Port Darwin theevening of the 26th; the evening of the 27th we were still at sea, andthe next morning--the 28th--"
"You're ahead of time just one day," laughed John. "This is the 27thof the month."
"How do you make that out?" asked Bob. "Didn't we leave Port Darwin onthe 26th?"
"Yes," admitted John.
"And the following evening we were at sea?'
"Granted. That was last evening--the 27th."
"Then any dunce can see that to-day is the 28th," said Bob witheringly.
"That's what I say, too," supported Paul.
But John only laughed harder, and this time Tom joined him.
"John's right," said Tom; "to-day is the 27th."
"It _can't_ be," protested Bob. "You own up that yesterday was the27th, don't you?"
"I certainly do," chuckled John; "but you forget one thing, young man:that same evening, all in a moment's time, we crossed the One Hundredand Eightieth Meridian--the date-line of the world--and while it wasThursday, the 27th on the west side of this line, it became Wednesday,the 26th the instant we crossed over to the east side."
"Oh, sure!" exclaimed Bob and Paul, feeling very silly. And the latteradded: "That's where we gain a day in our lives--and to think that Boband I were asleep at that auspicious moment!"
"I know an old maid who swears she is fifteen years younger than shereally looks," commented Tom. "I think she must have done a lot ofglobe trotting, and always east!"
"There's no danger of the fair sex ever circling the globe in awesterly direction," laughed John, "for that would make them one dayolder every time."
The day could not have been better. Hardly a cloud was to be seen onthe horizon, and the regular trade-winds blowing westward were soft andsteady, and they were making excellent time.
Grandpa frisked about, perching on this object and that, andoccasionally running back into some secret nook where he had hidden hissupply of nuts. With one of these in his paw he would jump up onsomething, crack it in his powerful small jaws, and look very wise andserious as he picked out the meats with his slim fingers.
Finally the monkey had his fill, and hopped up into Tom's lap. Hebegan to play with Tom's hair, smoothing it down pretty soon with theflyer's comb, which he discovered in a pocket. So handy was Grandpawith this utensil that the others went into peals of laughter. Tiringof this, the monkey's eye caught sight of several freckles upon theback of Tom's hand. He tried in vain to pick the freckles off; then hebecame excited, for he could not understand why they would not lift up.He chattered scoldingly at everybody; then tried again. Failing, hesprang down and went to a far corner, in a fine sulk. Evidently hethought Tom was playing a trick on him, and had glued the freckles downsomeway just to tease him; for Tom, it must be admitted, was greatlygiven to bothering Grandpa in some such manner.
Shortly before ten o'clock the following morning all hands were up totake a look at their next stopping-off place--Nukahiva, the main islandof the Marquesas group, the place where they hoped to find a supply ofhelium-gas awaiting them.
A fine island this--as fine a volcanic upheaval as one will findanywhere. Sheer walls of cloud-capped rock 6,000 feet high, someliterally overhanging the crystal-clear water, and all embossed andengraved with strangely patterned basalt. There are pillars,battlements, and turrets; so that, with half-closed eyes, it seems youare approaching a temple, a medieval castle, or a mosque of the East.And the valleys--deep, choked with the most rampant growths ofluxuriant vegetation, in the heart of which silvery streams gurgletheir way tortuously along--fade away into mysterious purple mists.Small wonder that this gorgeously beautiful island should have been thehome for a century of one of the finest races of primitive people theworld has ever known! Sad indeed is it that to-day the Marquesans arerapidly dying off from consumption and fever introduced into their fairdomain by civilization itself.
Nestling in a good-sized valley near the harbor our flyers saw scoresof native houses, as they drew nearer. These were constructed ofyellow bamboo, tastefully twisted together in a kind of wickerwork, andthatched with the long tapering leaves of the palmetto. Here, too, wasthe big white T of their hopes.
In a short time they had safely landed, one hour behind schedule.Their rivals had left an hour and ten minutes before. But joy of joys!here were four tanks of helium, and with a filling of this they wouldshow those fellows how to fly!
As fast as they could work, our friends overhauled their machine andput it in shape for the long trip to San Christobal. They would havegiven almost anything to have joined the many natives they saw swimmingin the cool waters of the harbor, but felt that they could not affordto waste a single minute.
At twelve-thirty, with the sun at its zenith, they once more took tothe air. This was Thursday. By Friday evening they should be at theGallapagos Islands--their last stop before Panama. What a cheeringthought it was!
Heading just a trifle north of east, they ran almost full-out. It waseasy to note the difference in the behavior of the Sky-Bird since herhelium tanks had been fully charged. She sped along as she had in thevery beginning of their journey--like a long bullet fired from somegigantic cannon. How the engine did sing! The wind rushed by themlike a hurricane, and they had to shout in order to be heard when theyhad anything to say to each other.
Satisfied that all was going right, Tom and John soon turned in, forthey were very sleepy. When the operating crew awoke them it was dark.Bob then got into wireless communication with Panama, and delivered amessage for Mr. Giddings. Following this, he and Paul also took to thehammocks.
When the two youths awoke it was morning, and the Sky-Bird was notbehaving as well as when they had retired. Looking outside they sawthe reason for this. The entire heavens ahead were hidden underdun-colored clouds which in places seemed to be gathering themselvestogether into formidable leaden arrangement. The gentle trade-windshad developed into a stiff wind. Down below, the sea was covered withwhitecaps, while in the distance the water was swinging into immenseswells with foaming crests.
John and Tom both looked worried. The two younger boys felt moreuneasy when they noticed this.
"I guess we're in for a pretty hard storm," said John, as he gave thethrottle up to Paul. "Tom and I will stay up a while and
see howthings turn out. The Sky-Bird's down to about a hundred an hour now.Better keep her there, Buddy. That's fast enough in a blow like this."
A few minutes later a fork of lightning split the sky ahead. This wasfollowed by another off to the right, then by one off to the left.Then they heard the rumble of thunder, and a heavy gray haze slowlybegan to engulf the sea, rapidly approaching.
"That's rain," cried Paul. "Say, John, if you're not too done outmaybe you had better take the stick again; I'm afraid I won't be equalto what's coming."
His brother complied. John did not wish to frighten his comrades, butthe truth is he knew this would be the worst storm he had ever faced inhis four years of flying.
"We'll try to get above those clouds," he said quietly. He did notlike to tell them just what he thought--that if they did not get abovethe clouds without delay they would either be struck by lightning ortorn to pieces by the terrible whirlpool of winds which he knew thosechurning black masses ahead contained.
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