CHAPTER VII
THE WHITE DJINN
It was half-past six by Smith's watch, near eleven by local time, whenthe aeroplane sailed across the long mangrove swamp that forms thewestern side of the harbour of Karachi. The sun was intensely fierce,and Smith, who found its glare affecting his eyes painfully, haddonned a pair of huge blue-glass goggles. He was glad that he had doneso when, passing over the crowded shipping of the port, he saw thesandy arid tracts around and beyond the town. Steamers hooted as theaeroplane flew above them; half-naked coolies lading the vessels withwheat and cotton, the produce of Sindh and the Punjab, dropped theirloads and stared upwards in stupefied amazement. Smith could not waitto enjoy his first view of an Indian city. His business was to land atthe first convenient place and find Mr. John Jenkinson, whose godownwas near the Custom House, and obtain from him the petrol bespoken byMr. Barracombe.
Being in complete ignorance where the Custom House lay, though heguessed it would be somewhere near the seafront, he was at first at aloss in which direction to make. There was no suitable landing-placein the crowded city itself, and to the immediate south of it thereappeared to be nothing but mangrove swamps. Ascending to aconsiderable height, however, he saw, some distance to the east, neara railway line, a stretch of open brownish ground on which little redflags stood up at intervals. He instantly jumped to the conclusionthat this was the golf course, though at this time of day there wereno players to confirm his judgment. This was an advantage, because itpromised that he might land without being beset by curious spectators.Accordingly he steered in that direction, hoping that having safelylanded his aeroplane he might find some means of reaching the merchantwhose name Mr. Barracombe had cabled to him.
It happened that, just as the aeroplane swooped down upon the golfcourse, an open vehicle like a victoria was driving slowly along aroad that crossed it from the railway towards the city. The turbaneddriver pulled up his horse and stared open-mouthed at thisextraordinary apparition from the sky, and when the aeroplanealighted, and from the car stepped a tall, dirty creature with amonstrously ugly face, the native whipped up his horse and withshrill cries sought to escape the clutches of what he felt in histrembling soul must be a djinn of the most evil kind.
Smith shouted to him to stop, but in vain; whereupon he picked up hisheels and ran to overtake the carriage. The horse was a sorryspecimen, and Smith, being a very passable sprinter, soon came up withit, jumped in, and called to the driver to take him to Mr. Jenkinson'sgodown. The man yelled with fear, and in sheer panic flogged his horseuntil it went at a gallop, the vehicle swaying in a manner that anyone but a sailor would have found unpleasant. Both horse and driverseemed to be equally affected with terror, but since the carriage wasgoing towards the city Smith was perfectly well satisfied, and did notturn a hair even when it narrowly escaped a collision with abullock-wagon.
On they went, past some buildings on the right which appeared to bebarracks, until they reached a street in which there were so manypeople that Smith thought it time to pull up before mischief was done.Leaning forward, he gripped the driver's dhoti and drew him slowlybackward. The man yelled again; the passers-by stood in wonderment;but with his backward movement the driver tightened his grip on thereins, and within a few yards the panting horse came to a standstill.
"Where is Mr. Jenkinson's godown?" said Smith, releasing the driver.But the man's terror was too much for him. Throwing the reins on thehorse's back, he sprang from his seat and fled, a vision of bare brownlegs twinkling amid white cotton drapery.
By this time a crowd of chattering natives had gathered round, who,not having seen the aeroplane, were more amazed at the driver'sevident terror than at the passenger. He was dirty, it is true, andnot clad like the sahibs whom they were accustomed to meet, but whenhe had removed his goggles they saw that he was certainly a sahib.Smith was about to ask some one to direct him to Mr. Jenkinson's whena native policeman pushed his way through the crowd, and in a shrill,high-pitched voice and wonderful English, announced that he had cometo take the number of the carriage; it was clearly a case of furiousdriving to the danger of the public.
"Shut up!" said Smith impatiently. "Find me a driver to take me toJenkinson sahib."
"Certainly, your honor," said the man, becoming deferential at once.
One of the bystanders, seeing the chance of earning a few pice,volunteered to drive.
"Jenkinson sahib? all right, sahib; down by Custom House. You bet!"
The carriage rolled off, followed by a crowd of runners, eager out ofpure inquisitiveness to see the matter through. They passed GovernmentHouse, turned into dusty Macleod Road, and in five or six minutesreached the Custom House, where, turning to the left for a shortdistance along the Napier Mole, the driver pulled up at a woodengodown, and said--
"Here we are again, sahib. Jenkinson sahib, all right."
Smith ordered the man to wait for him, and went into the godown. Herehe met with a disappointment. In answer to his inquiry the nativeclerk, looking at him curiously, said that Mr. Jenkinson was notthere, was not even in Karachi.
At this Smith looked blank.
"Your name, sir, is Lieutenant Smith?" said the clerk politely, butwith an air of doubt.
"It is."
"Then I tell you what, sir. Cable came yesterday for Mr. Jenkinson. Iwired it, instanter, as per instructions, to esteemed employer atMahableshwar, where he recuperates exhausted energies. Reply justcome. Here you are: 'Refer Lieutenant Smith Mr. Macdonald. Regretabsence.' Mr. Macdonald, sir, little way off. I have honour to escortyou: do proper thing."
He conducted Smith some distance down the Mole, the carriagefollowing. Luckily Mr. Macdonald had not returned to his bungalow fortiffin, but was napping in a little room behind his office, darkenedby close trellises, which are found necessary for keeping out theclouds of sand blown up from the shore.
"Eh, what?" said Mr. Macdonald, when his clerk awakened him. "Avisitor this time of day? Well, show him in."
He let a little light into the room, and stared when Smith wasintroduced. Smith was dripping with perspiration, and not having beenable to wash since leaving London, he felt that his appearance mustgive a fellow-countryman something of a shock.
"What do ye want, man?" asked Mr. Macdonald, somewhat testily.
"Mr. Jenkinson referred me to you, sir--"
"I have no vacancies, none whatever, and--"
"My name is Lieutenant Smith, of His Majesty's navy, and I have justarrived from England."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Smith; I took ye for--well, I don't know what.Take a wee drappie? You came by the _Peninsular_, no doubt. I hear shecame in this morning."
"No. I came by aeroplane."
The Scotsman stared.
"What's that ye were saying?"
"By aeroplane. The fact is, Mr. Macdonald, I'm in a hurry. I've got toget off within an hour or so; and I want some petrol for my engine.Mr. Jenkinson was to have arranged it for me, but being absent herefers me to you, and I shall be immensely obliged if you can manageit for me, and excuse my not entering into particulars, for which Ireally haven't time."
"Is that a fact? Petrol, is it? Come away with me; only, upon my word,sir, I will take it very kind if you will give me a few particklers ofthis astonishing business as we go."
He put on a sun helmet, and led the way from the room. Jumping intothe victoria, he ordered the temporary coachman to drive to HarrisRoad, a quarter of a mile beyond the Custom House. In the two minutesoccupied by the drive, Smith told the Scotsman merely that he had comefrom Constantinople and was proceeding immediately to Penang onimportant business.
"It took ye a week, I suppose?"
"No, I left there rather less than twenty-four hours ago."
"Man, you astonish me; fair take my breath away. But here we are."
He alighted at a store kept by a Parsi. It was a matter of a fewmoments to purchase the petrol and machine oil, Smith paying for itwith English gold. The tins were rolled out; Mr. Macdonald hailed aclos
ed cab, into which they were put, and then they set off to returnto the golf links, Mr. Macdonald accompanying Smith, curious to seethe machine which had performed such an astonishing journey.
"I've read in the papers about these aeroplanes, but never seen oneyet. Is it your opinion, now, that we'll have a war in the air one ofthese days?"
"I shouldn't wonder. We shall have cruisers and battleships, airtorpedoes and destroyers, air mines and air submarines."
"Are you pulling my leg, now?" asked Mr. Macdonald, but he received noreply, for Smith had noticed an European provision shop, andremembering that his biscuits and chocolate were running low, hecalled to the driver to stop, and made some purchases. He took theopportunity to lay in a dozen bottles of soda-water, and added a fewpackets of Rodier's favourite cigarettes, for smoking during thehalts, for he would never allow a match to be struck near the engine.
Mr. Macdonald plied him with questions during the remainder of thedrive, and Smith was ready enough with his answers except on hispersonal concerns. When they arrived at the links they found theaeroplane surrounded by a vast crowd. The majority were natives, butthere was a sprinkling of Englishmen in the inner circle, and somesoldiers from the barracks were doing police duty in keeping theonlookers at a distance from the aeroplane. Two British officers andsome civilians were talking to Rodier, who was cleaning the enginewith the assistance of a young fellow with the cut of a ship'sengineer.
The arrival of the cabs caused a stir among the spectators. Smithalighted, asked Mr. Macdonald to see that the petrol and provisionswere carried quickly to the aeroplane, and advanced to ask Rodier howhe had been getting on.
"Like a house on fire, mister," replied the man. "Mr. Jones here isjust off the _Peninsular_, and has helped a lot."
"I say," said one of the officers, "is your man stuffing us up? Hesays you have come from London in twenty-four hours."
"Quite true, Hawley," said Smith, with a smile. "Remember I googliedyou for a duck at Lord's last year?"
The officer stared.
"By George, it's Charley Smith! I didn't know you; you're like asweep. Yes, by George! and I stumped you and got it back on you. Howare you? Rogers, this is a gentleman of the King's navee--CharleySmith, Elphinstone Rogers."
"How d'e do? Rummy machine, what!" said Captain Rogers.
"Yes, by George!" said Hawley. "What's your little game?"
"I've got seven days' leave, and am off big game hunting. Can't waitfor liners in these times."
"You don't say so!"
"Tigers, eh?" said Rogers. "Wish I was you! But is it safe? Looksuncommon flimsy, what!"
"I hope for the best, but I haven't got a minute to spare. Sorry Ican't have a go at your pads again, Hawley. Finished, Roddy?"
"All complete, mister."
"All the stuff onboard?"
"Yes."
"Well, Mr.--Jones, is it? Much obliged to you. Roddy, pay thosefellows who've carried the stuff, and the drivers."
He handed him some silver.
"Hoots, man," said Mr. Macdonald; "that'll never do. They'll swank fora week if you give them all that. Leave it to me."
"All right. You know best. Many thanks for your help. Hawley, d'youmind getting your men to clear the course? I don't want to break anybones. And perhaps you'll send a cable home for me. Address ThesigerSmith, Cosham. Say 'All well.'"
"I'll do it, with pleasure."
"Thanks. Good-bye. Sorry I've got to rush off."
He shook hands all round, and jumped on board.
Rodier had already taken his place at the engine. It took a minute ortwo for the soldiers to force the crowd back, an interval which Smithutilized to trace on the map, for Rodier's guidance, the course he haddecided to follow. Then, the clatter of the starting engine silencingthe clamour of the crowd, the aeroplane ran forward and soared intothe air. Its ascent was hailed with a babel of shouts and cheers.Smith waved his hand to his friends below; then, seeing that Rodierhad the map before him, he spread himself in his seat for acomfortable nap.
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