Round the World in Seven Days

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER I

  THE CABLEGRAM

  "Tenez! up! up! Ah ca! A clean shave, mister, hein?"

  A touch on the lever had sent the aeroplane soaring aloft at a steepangle, and she cleared by little more than a hair's breadth the edgeof a thick plantation of firs.

  "A close shave, as you say, Roddy," came the answer. And then thespeaker let forth a gust of wrathful language which his companionheard in sympathetic silence.

  Lieutenant Charles Thesiger Smith, of H.M.S. _Imperturbable_, wasnormally a good-tempered fellow, and his outburst would have deceivednobody who knew him so well as Laurent Rodier.

  It was the dusk of an evening in mid spring. Above, the sky was clear,washed by the rain that had fallen without intermission since earlymorning. Below, the chill of coming night, acting on themoisture-laden air, had covered the land with a white mist, thatcurled and heaved beneath the aeroplane in huge waves. It looked likea billowy sea of cotton-wool, but the airmen who had just emerged fromit, had no comfort in its soft embrace. Their eyes were smarting, theydrew their breath painfully, and little streams of water tricklingfrom the soaked planes made cold, shuddering streaks on their facesand necks.

  An hour ago they had sailed by Salisbury spire, calculating that a fewminutes' run, at two or three miles a minute, would bring them totheir destination on the outskirts of Portsmouth. But a few milessouth the baffling mist had made its appearance, and Smith foundhimself bereft of landmarks, and compelled to tack to and fro in utteruncertainty of his course. He was as much at a loss as if he werenavigating a vessel in a sea-fog. To sail through the mist was toincur the risk of striking a tree, a chimney, or a church steeple; topursue his flight above it in the deepening dusk might carry him milesout of his way, and though a southerly course must presently bring himto the sea, he could not tell how far east or west of his intendedlanding-place. Meanwhile the petrol was running short, and it wasclear that before long his dilemma would be solved by the enginestopping, and bringing him to the ground willy-nilly, goodness knowswhere.

  This was vexing enough, but in the particular circumstances it was acrowning stroke of misfortune. To-day was the twenty-first of histwenty-eight days' leave: to-morrow he was to begin a round of what hecalled duty visits among his relatives; he would have to motor, playgolf, dance attendance on girls at theatres and concerts, and spurhimself to a thousand activities that he detested. There was no escapefor him. Perhaps he could have faced this seven days' penance moreequably if he had had the recollection of three well-employed weeks tosweeten it. Even this was denied him. Ever since he came on leave theweather had been abominable: high wind, incessant rain, all theelements conspiring to prevent the enjoyment of his hobby. Rodier hadsuggested that he should apply for an extension of leave, but Smith,though he did not lack courage, could not screw it to this pitch. Heremembered too vividly his interview with the captain when coming offship.

  "Don't smash yourself up," said the captain, "and don't run things toofine. You're always late in getting back from leave. Last time youonly got in by the skin of your teeth, when we were off shooting, too.If you overstep the mark again you'll find yourself brought up with around turn, you may take my word for it."

  "I couldn't beg off after that," he said to Rodier. "Anyway, it'srotten bad luck."

  "Precisement ca!" said Rodier sympathetically.

  For some little time they sailed slowly on, seeking in vain for a riftin the blanket of mist: then Rodier cried suddenly--

  "Better take a drop, mister. In three minutes all the petrol is gone,and then--"

  "I'm afraid you're right, Roddy, but goodness knows what we shall fallon. We must take our chance, I suppose."

  He adjusted the planes, so as to make a gradual descent while theengine still enabled him to keep way on the machine, and it sank intothe mist. Both men kept a sharp look-out, knowing well that toencounter a branch of a tree or a chimney-stack might at any momentbring the voyage, the aeroplane, and themselves to an untimely end.All at once, without warning, a large dark shape loomed out of themist. Smith instantly warped his planes, and the machine dived soprecipitately as almost to throw him from his seat. Next moment therewas a shock; he was flung headlong forward, and found himselfsprawling half suffocated on a damp yielding mass, which, when he hadrecovered his wits, he knew to be the unthatched top of a hayrick.

  His first thought was for the aeroplane. Raising himself, and dashingthe clinging hay wisps from his face, he shouted--

  "Is she smashed, Roddy?"

  "Ah, no, mister," came the answering cry. "She stick fast, and mealso."

  Smith crawled to the edge of the rick and dropped to the ground. Twoor three dogs were barking furiously somewhere in the neighbourhood. Afew steps brought him to the aeroplane, lying in a slanting positionbetween the hayrick and a fence, over which it projected. Rodier hadclung to his seat, and had suffered nothing worse than a jolting.

  "This is a pretty mess," said Smith despairingly, "one end stuck fastin the hayrick, the other sticking over the fence: they'll have topull it down before we can get her out. Get off, you brute!" heexclaimed, as a dog came yapping at his legs.

  "Seize him, Pompey: seize him, good dog!" cried a rough voice.

  "Call him off, or I'll break his head," cried Smith in exasperation.

  "You will, will you?" roared the farmer. "I'll teach you to comebreaking into my yard: I'll have the law of you."

  "Don't be absurd, man," replied Smith, fending off the dog as well ashe could. "Don't you see I've had an accident?"

  "Accident be jiggered!" said the farmer. "You don't come breaking intomy yard by accident. Better stand quiet or he'll tear you to bits."

  "Oh, come now!" said Smith. "Look at this. Here's my aeroplane, fixedup here. You don't suppose I came down here on purpose? I lost my wayin this confounded mist, and don't know where I am. Just be sensible,there's a decent chap, and get some of your men to help us out. I'llpay damages."

  "I'll take care of that," said the farmer curtly. "What the country'scoming to I don't know, what with motors killing us on the roads andnow these here airyplanes making the very air above us poison tobreathe. There ought to be a law to stop it, that's what _I_ say.Down, Pompey! What's your name, mister?"

  Smith explained, asking in his turn the name of the place where he hadalighted. Farmer Barton was a good patriot, and the knowledge that theintruder was a navy-man sensibly moderated his truculence.

  "Why, this be Firtop Farm, half-a-mile from Mottisfont station, if youknow where that is," he said. "Daze me if you hain't been and cut intomy hayrick!" He sniffed. "And what's this horrible smell? I do believeyou've spoilt the whole lot with your stinking oil." He was gettingangry again.

  "Well, I've said I'll pay for it," said Smith impatiently. "Get yourmen, farmer, or I shan't be home to-night. I suppose I can get somepetrol somewhere about here?"

  "You might, or you might not, in the village; I can't say. My men areabed and asleep, long ago. You'll have to bide till morning."

  "Oh well, if I must, I must. Roddy, just have a look at the machineand see that she's safe for the night. I'll run down to the stationand send a wire home, and then get beds in the village."

  "Better be sharp, then," said the farmer. "You can't send no wireafter eight, and it's pretty near that now. I'll show you the way."

  Smith hurried to the station and despatched his telegram; then,learning that there was a train due at 8.2 from Andover, he decided towait a few minutes and get an evening paper. An aviation meeting hadjust been held at Tours, and he was anxious to see how the Englishcompetitors had fared. The train was only a few minutes late. Smithasked the guard whether he had brought any papers, and to his vexationlearnt that, there being no bookstall at Mottisfont, there were nonefor that station. However, the guard himself had bought a paper beforeleaving Waterloo.

  "Take it and welcome, sir," he said. "I've done with it. You'reLieutenant Smith, if I'm not mistaken. Seen your portrait in thepapers,' sir."

  "Than
ks, guard," said Smith, pressing a coin into his reluctant hand.

  "Englishmen doing well in France, sir. Hope to see you a prize-winnerone of these days. Goodnight!"

  The train rumbled off, and Smith scanned the columns by the light of aplatform lamp. He read the report of the meeting in which he wasinterested: a Frenchman had made a new record in altitude; anEnglishman had won a fine race, coming in first of ten competitors; aterrible accident had befallen a well-known airman at the moment ofdescending. The most interesting piece of news was that a Frenchmanhad maintained for three hours an average speed of a hundred andtwenty miles.

  "I'm only just in time," said Smith to himself. He was folding thepaper when his eye was caught by a heading that recalled the days ofhis boyhood, when he had revelled in stories of savages, pirates, andthe hundred and one themes that fascinate the ingenuous mind.

  SHIPWRECKED AMONG CANNIBALS.

  TERRIBLE SITUATION OF FAMOUS SCIENTIST.

  (From Our Own Correspondent.)

  BRISBANE, Thursday.

  A barque put in here to-day with four men picked up from an open boat south of New Guinea, who reported that the Government survey vessel Albatross has run ashore in a storm on Ysabel Island, one of the Solomon group. The crew and passengers, including Dr. Thesiger Smith, the famous geologist, were saved, but the vessel is a complete wreck, and the unfortunate people were compelled to camp on the shore. They are very short of provisions, and being practically unarmed are in great danger of being massacred by the natives, who are believed to be one of the fiercest cannibal tribes in the South Sea.

  Four of the crew put off in the ship's boat to seek assistance, but they lost their mast and had to rely on the oars, and drifted for several days before being picked up in the Coral Sea. A gunboat will be despatched immediately, but since it cannot reach the island for at least five days, it is greatly to be feared that it will arrive only to find that help has come too late.

  Smith ran his eyes rapidly over the lines, then folded the paper, andput it into his pocket. He did not notice that his hand was trembling.The station-master looked curiously after him as he strode away withset face.

  "Seems to have had bad news," he said to his head porter.

  "Bin plungin' on a wrong un, maybe," replied the porter.

  Smith left the station, and hastened down the road towards the farm.He had clean forgotten his intention of bespeaking beds in thevillage; indeed, he walked as one insensible to all around him untilhe caught sight of the word GARAGE, painted in large white letters,illuminated by an electric lamp, over a gateway at the side of theroad. Then he swung round and, passing through the gate, came to alighted shed where he found a man cleaning a motor car.

  "Any petrol to be got here?" he asked quickly.

  "As much as we're allowed to keep, sir," replied the man.

  "Send a can at once to Firtop Farm, down the road."

  He turned, and was quitting the shed when a word from the man recalledhim.

  "Beg pardon, sir, but--"

  "Oh, here's your money," cried Smith, handing him a crown-piece. "Bequick. By the way, can you lend me two or three men for half-an-houror so at five shillings an hour?"

  "Right you are, sir," was the reply. "I'm one; I'll get you a couplemore in no time. Be there as soon as you, sir."

  Smith hurried away. On reaching the farm he found that Rodier and thefarmer were engaged in a friendly conversation, by the light of acarriage lamp which flickered wanly in the mist.

  "Wonderful machine, sir," said the farmer, whom Rodier had talked outof his ill-humour. "Your man has been showing me over it, as you maysay, leastways as well as he could in this fog."

  "We must get her out at once," rejoined Smith. "Some men are comingup. We must get on to-night."

  "Good sakes! that's impossible. She lies right athwart the fence, andyou'll have to rig a crane to lift her."

  "The fence must come down. I'll pay."

  "But drat it all--"

  "Look here, farmer, it's got to be done. Here are the men; just obligeme by showing them a light at the fence, and set them to take downenough of it to free the aeroplane--carefully; I don't want itsmashed. There's a sovereign on account; you shall have a cheque forthe rest when you send in the bill."

  Apparently the magic touch of gold reconciled the farmer to thesehasty proceedings, for he made no more ado, but took the lamp and badethe three men to follow him.

  "What's wrong, mister?" asked Rodier. "You look as if you had beenshocked."

  Smith drew the paper from his pocket, gave it to Rodier, and then,striking a match, showed him the paragraph, and lighted more matcheswhile he read it.

  "Mon dieu!" ejaculated the Frenchman, when he was halfway through. "Itis your father!"

  "Yes; my brother is with him. I must get home; it will kill my motherif she sees this."

  Rodier read the paragraph to the end.

  "My word, it is bad business," he said. "These cannibals!... And theyhave no arms. What horror!"

  Smith left him abruptly and walked to the fence to see how the work ofdismantling it was proceeding. Rodier whistled, and thrusting hishands into his pockets, sat down on a bag of straw and appeared to bedeep in a brown study. Sounds of hammering came from the fence; alight breeze was scattering the mist, and he could now see clearly thethree men under the farmer's direction carefully removing the fencingbeneath the aeroplane. Rodier watched them for a few minutes, but anonlooker would have gathered the impression that his thoughts were faraway.

  Suddenly he sprang up, muttering, "Ah! On peut le faire, quand meme.Courage, mon ami!" and hastened to rejoin his employer.

  "What distance, mister," he said, "from here to there--to thecannibals?"

  "Thirteen thousand miles, I suppose, more or less."

  "Ah!" the Frenchman's face fell. "Thirteen thousand!" he repeated,then was silent for a while, touching his brow as if making someabstruse calculation. Smith turned away.

  "Ah! Qu'importe?" cried Rodier, after a few moments. "On peut lefaire!"

  He hastened to Smith, drew him aside, and spoke rapidly to him for afew moments. The look of doubt that first came to Smith's face wassoon replaced by a look of confidence. He engaged in a hurriedcolloquy with his man, at the close of which they shook hands heartilyand went to the fence to lend a hand there.

  In half-an-hour the work was done; the fence was down, and the six mencarefully dragged and lifted the aeroplane over the debris, and placedit on the road outside. While Rodier made a rapid examination of it,to see that no damage had been done, Smith got the men to empty intothe tank the can of petrol they had brought, paid them for theirwork, and handed his card to the farmer.

  "Send in your bill," he cried. "Ready, Roddy?"

  "All right, mister."

  They jumped into their seats. Smith called to the men to stand clear,and pulled the lever. At the same moment Rodier switched on thesearchlight. The propellers flew round with deafening whirr; theaeroplane shot forward for thirty or forty yards along the road, thenrose like a bird into the air.

  The men stood with mouths agape as the machine flew over thetree-tops, its light diminishing to a pin-point, its clamour sinkingto the quiet hum of a bee, and then fading away altogether. In aminute it had totally disappeared.

  "Daze me if ever I seed anything like that afore," said the farmer. "Amile a minute, what?"

  "More like two," said the motorman. "I lay she'll be in Portsmouthafore I'm half-a-mile up road. Good-night, farmer, I'm off to theThree Waggoners."

  "Bust if I don't go, too. There be summat to wet our whistles onto-night, eh, men?"