“Oh, that’s it!” I exclaimed. “Are the natives partial to white women, Bry?”
“I know other chiefs,” he said, “and I know they like to take women of other nations for wives. In my own island it is like that. I think if we were only warriors the Faytans would drive us away, or let us take the boats out. That is the only way I can explain the strange manner in which they are acting.”
“You may be right,” I returned, and walked away to think it over.
The third day brought no more incident than the others that preceded it. I had abandoned the idea that the Faytans intended to besiege us until we succumbed to hunger or thirst, and told Joe so. Also I confided to my chum Bry’s theory that they were concocting a plan to get our women. This made Joe look grave and anxious.
When Alfonso joined us, presently, I thought it best to acquaint him with our fears.
“If that is so,” said the boy, “we will see that the women never fall into their hands alive. But I am confident there will be some way of escape open to us before our condition gets desperate.”
“What is your father doing?” I asked, thinking I would like a conference with Senor de Jiminez.
“He is writing a speech to deliver before the Colombian Congress when he becomes president,” replied Alfonso with a smile. “Poor father! He doesn’t know what despair means. I’m sure he has no real conception of our present position.”
“I wish,” said Joe, musingly, as he stared out over the island, “that I could see into that forest yonder. I wonder if it’s full of watching natives, or if they’re all lying snug in the big Pearl City we’ve heard about.”
Alfonso was thoughtful. For awhile he, too, stared at the forest. Then a sudden idea occurred to him, for his face brightened and he laughed aloud.
“Fellows,” said he, “I’ve a notion to go over to that city and see what it looks like. Also, I’ll take a peep into the forest as I pass by.”
I looked at him in amazement, saying:
“Have you gone crazy, then?”
Again he laughed, quite gleefully.
“I don’t wonder you suspect my sanity,” he answered; “but the truth is that I had forgotten all about a certain important shipment of mine that is now in the hold of this ship and may be of great help to us in our present emergency. However,” he added, more soberly, “the thing was intended for a far different purpose.”
“A shipment? What is it?” I inquired.
“Why, nothing more nor less than one of those new fashioned biplanes. I bought one of the latest improved Antoinettes when I went over to Paris, during the time father was purchasing the arms in Australia. He sent me there on some banking business, you know, and I naturally took in the aviation exhibition. It did not take me long to decide that a biplane would be of great assistance to the revolution and I induced the great Blériot himself to teach me how to work it. Before I left Paris I could manage the thing beautifully, and I’ve made a good many successful flights. It is all packed in three cases, with bands of red paint around them so they can be identified from the arms, and I have many extra parts in separate cases. It must seem queer to you to realize I have a flying machine in this out-of-the-way place — where we’re shipwrecked on a savage island.”
“It is strange,” I admitted.
“The Antoinette would make even you fellows stare, I guess,” continued Alfonso.
“Oh, as for that,” said Joe, “both Sam and I have done some aerial stunts in our time, and made some pretty long flights. But a biplane’s a new invention to us.”
“It occurred to me that I could put the machine together here on deck,” announced Alfonso, “and make a trip over the forest to the Pearl City. I won’t land there, of course, but I’ll circle around and find out what we want to know, and then come back again. What do you think?” he asked a little anxiously.
“Seems like a brilliant idea,” I said approvingly.
“Will you fellows help me to get it together?”
“Of course,” said Joe. “And the sooner the better.”
“Then order your men to fetch up the boxes with the red bands. There are three of them.”
I went to Uncle Naboth and my father and explained what Little Jim wanted to do. They both considered the thing impracticable and foolhardy, but said we could give the young Colombian whatever assistance he needed.
So the boxes were sent for and presently hoisted from the hold by means of the cranes provided for such purposes. Only one was at all heavy, and that contained the motor and tools.
The carpenter unscrewed the covers and soon a confused mass of canvas planes, braces, platforms and other odds and ends lay upon the deck. Alfonso, with his coat off and sleeves rolled up, began to select the pieces and connect them. He had written instructions for setting up the machine, but did not need to refer to them often, being evidently quite familiar with the details of its mechanism.
It did not seem to me that the thing was at all serviceable; it was very frail and more like a toy than a flying machine; but the boy assured me it was an exact duplicate of the one that held the world’s record for altitude and speed.
“Aren’t you afraid to trust yourself to it?” asked Joe.
“Afraid! Of course not,” was the reply. “It is perfectly safe if operated intelligently — barring unavoidable accidents.”
We both assisted, being guided by his directions, and all three of us worked the remainder of that day. Lucia discovered us at about the time we began assembling the airship, and was so fascinated by the proposition that she remained constantly by our side, watching every move we made. She made no remarks, but her dark eyes missed no detail, and whenever Alfonso instructed us she listened as carefully as we did. It seemed queer for a girl to take such an interest in a flying machine — a thing that some men do not care to fool with. In addition to the girl a curious group of the sailors surrounded us, for I have found that those who sail the seas have a certain sympathy for those who sail the air.
I had myself become enthusiastic over the machine, as I began to understand the theory of its operation. The Antoinette was as scientifically constructed as it was delicate and graceful. I could see possibilities in the thing, now, and that night was a sleepless one for me, so eager was I to continue our work the next morning. We got the frame complete the second day, and set the engines in position.
By evening the biplane seemed all ready to fly, but Alfonso asserted it must be adjusted and tested with the utmost care, as all depended on the tenseness and equalization of the planes. He told us, however, he hoped to make the flight the following morning.
Our relations with the natives had remained unchanged. The only event of each day was the arrival of food and supplies for the floating besiegers. These were brought in canoes around the island and a share distributed to each of the line of boats. Then the commissary department silently withdrew and the excitement was over. As for the guard, their patience seemed untiring. The warriors must have been more or less cramped in their canoes. If some of them were relieved at times, it was during the nights, for darkness fell upon the silent line and daybreak found it still unbroken. Perhaps some slept, lying in the bottoms of the canoes, while others watched. I have no means of knowing.
Finally our youthful and adventurous Colombian got his machine adjusted to suit him, explaining to Joe and me, as he worked, all the details of equilibrium and shifting the balance, and how to handle the wheel and run the motors. The engines were not unlike those used on automobiles, yet lighter in weight and made as delicately as a watch. The wheel answered the slightest touch, and any change in direction required a quick eye and quick thought. Indeed, to fly in a biplane is no dreamy man’s job, for every nerve and muscle must be tense and responsive and lend life to the inanimate thing he directs.
Alfonso was cool as a cucumber while making his tests and I could see that his eager enthusiasm was due more to the delights of an exhilarating flight through the air than a desire to see the Pearl City
, or discover what our enemies were doing. Doubtless he had for some time been aching for an opportunity to use his novel machine, and his present attempt was mainly due to this wish.
Being of a mechanical turn of mind and interested in all such propositions, I followed intently every movement that Alfonso made in putting the biplane together, adjusting it and preparing for the flight.
“I almost believe I could work it myself,” I remarked with a smile. “That ‘almost’ qualifies your egotism,” replied Little Jim, with assurance. “It is the flight itself — the management of the machine in the air — that really requires knowledge and skill.”
“But that can only come with experience,” I said. “How many flights have you made?”
“Several,” he declared proudly. “Once I remained in the air for thirty-seven minutes. I can do better than that, now, for I have here an improved machine and the condition of the atmosphere in these latitudes is almost perfect, since the storm cleared.”
He took his seat in the machine. We had cleared a long run along the deck, from stem to stem, for his use in starting.
“First,” said he, “I’ll take a turn among those boats over the reefs. I may land here on my return, or I may keep on over the island; it will depend upon circumstances.”
Every soul aboard had gathered to watch this interesting attempt, and I noticed that Lucia’s eyes were big and sparkling with excitement. Alfonso was quite the hero of the hour and it filled him with pride and elation to be the observed of all observers. His father, who had always vigorously opposed his son’s experiments with airships, but realized the fact that the biplane might be of much service to the revolution, was a curious and silent spectator. He had indulged in a stiff argument with Alfonso the night before, but had met defeat at the hands of his wayward son. The boy’s courage and confidence were indisputable, and perhaps Senor de Jiminez was a bit proud of his son’s progressive ideas.
“The airship is bound to be a great factor in the future history of nations,” asserted Alfonso, and this could not be successfully controverted until the future revealed itself and became history.
Joe and I followed directions in turning the motor and running the machine along the deck for a start. It rose just before it reached the bow, soared over the rail and headed straight out to sea, still ascending. Absolute silence pervaded the anxious group on deck. We could plainly hear the whir of the motors as the biplane, swift as a dart, flew over the reefs, descried a graceful curve and circled around the boats a hundred feet or more in the air.
The Faytans were certainly a stolid lot, as we afterward proved; but the flight of the airship was so startling that they craned their necks to watch it, and some rose in the canoes while others ducked down and covered their heads as if in terror. Fear was unknown to this people, but superstition bound them in chains, and this surely seemed like a demonstration of the gods.
I must admit the boy handled the machine beautifully, and it responded to his touch like a thing of life. Several times he circled around, then swept out to sea until he was a mere birdlike speck, and finally came back and headed directly for the ship. Perhaps it had been five or six minutes since he left us, but to us it seemed an hour, so excited were we by his daring and his success.
We kept the deck clear, pressing close to the rail, and it seemed Alfonso’s intention to land. He came toward us in a straight line; then the machine dipped, for as it neared us it was fully three hundred feet above the sea. Now the aeronaut shut down the motors and glided gracefully downward at an angle of nearly forty degrees. We were preparing to shout our applause, when like a great bird the biplane swept over the deck, struck the mainmast at about its middle and came crashing down in a heap — operator and aeroplane being mixed in a confused jumble.
CHAPTER 10
THE PEARL CITY
Joe and I rushed in first of all and pulled Alfonso out of the wreck. He was insensible and bleeding profusely from a cut across the forehead. Others eagerly took the boy from us and carried him below, his father sobbing that his son was dead, dead, dead! and now could never become the president of Colombia.
I knew well enough Alfonso wasn’t dead, and told Lucia so when she asked me with a white, startled face.
“A little damaged, that’s all,” said I, and watched her as she hurried away, womanlike, to render what assistance she could.
“It were surely wonderful!” cried Uncle Naboth, viewing the mangled biplane that lay at the foot of the mast; “but he’s spoilt his flying machine the first trip.”
“Oh, I’m not at all sure about that,” I replied. “What do you think, Joe?”
“Why, it’s like Alfonso — a little damaged, that’s all,” he answered with a grin. “The motor seems all right, and that’s the main thing.”
We made an examination, then, and found some of the framework of the planes splintered. Otherwise nothing was injured and a little work would soon restore the thing to good working order.
Bryonia and “Capstan Bob,” the latter having been a poor doctor before he became a good sailor, attended the injured boy, and soon word came up that Alfonso had regained consciousness. He had broken his left arm and cut his scalp open, but was not seriously injured. Late in the afternoon he asked to see me, and when I went down to his room I found him quite cheerful over his personal mishap, but worried about the condition of his biplane. This I assured him could easily be repaired, and he told me there was a supply of extra frames in one of the boxes, and asked me to look after the airship and rig it up again.
“I want to make another trip in it as soon as I am able,” he told me. “This broken arm is an unfortunate thing, but I guess I can manage the wheel with my right hand. Are you sure the motor is uninjured?”
“It worked smoothly when I tested it,” I answered; “but I’ll go over it again more carefully and make sure.”
“Do,” he urged. “You and Joe can do the work, and to-morrow I’ll come on deck and direct you. I’ll be all right by that time.”
The morning, however, found Alfonso so stiff and sore from his bruises, his gashed forehead and his cracked arm, that he could not leave his berth. The women waited upon him tirelessly and Joe and I, left to our own devices, decided to set to work on the biplane without the owner’s assistance. It interested us more than ever, now that we had seen what the thing could do, and I had acquired a powerful desire to test its virtues myself. If we could restore the machine to good condition, and should our safety demand knowledge of the movements of the natives, I felt I would not hesitate to undertake a flight.
All that day we worked, finding spare parts to replace those that had been damaged. It was evident that accidents to the frame were expected and anticipated, since duplicates of almost every part of them had been furnished. Only the motor and steering gear were without duplicate parts; but these were little likely to become injured, even by a direct fall.
On the following morning Joe and I arose before daybreak and got Bry to make us some coffee while we finally adjusted the biplane. I had decided to attempt a flight secretly, as I feared Senor de Jiminez or his son would refuse us permission had we asked to go. The seat was so arranged that it would carry two; so, both Joe and I being light in weight ought not to prove too great a burden for the machine. I had intended to go alone, at first, but Joe begged so hard that I did not like to refuse him, and he agreed to allow me to manage it without interference.
We instructed Bry and Ned Britton how to start us, but we took our run on the deck from stem to stem, so as to head over the island.
The Antoinette rose like a bird — just as the sun came up — and with a sense of elation and delight I realized we were actually flying. Up we shot, right over the forest, which came beneath us so suddenly that for the first time I recognized the marvelous speed of the machine.
Determined to investigate this threatening barrier, I turned the wheel so as to descry a succession of circles and descended until we were just above the tallest tree tops
. Joe had a pair of powerful glasses, and while I watched the biplane he examined the forest.
“The woods are full of savages,” he remarked, attentively looking downward; “but most of them are lined up facing the ship.”
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“Stripping the trees of bark, and flattening it out. That’s queer. All are working at this except the double line of sentries at the edge of the forest.”
“Perhaps they’re making shields of the bark,” I suggested; “in which case they intend to attack us presently. But if they think we use bows and arrows, which a bark shield will stop, they’re much mistaken.”
“Who knows what they think?” muttered my companion.
“And who cares? Keep your balance, Joe; I’m going to explore the rest of the island.”
First I rose to quite an altitude, so that we might determine the extent of the island. Then I spied a large settlement at the far east of us — the farthest point from the ship — and deciding that this was the Pearl City I headed directly for it.
A few moments only sufficed to bring us above the city, a journey of perhaps ten miles from our starting point. Here again I circled while we inspected the place.
The city was of tremendous extent; for here, we afterward learned, resided every inhabitant of Faytan. There was a pretty landlocked bay before it, and the waterfront was thick with craft, mostly with canoes such as we had seen, although there were some ponderous flat-bottomed boats that resembled rafts more than ships. These I thought might be used for the pearl fishing, although they were gaudily decorated and had many seats with rudely carved backs.
Between the forest and the city were large cultivated fields, with groups of cocoanut and date palms showing here and there, and we discovered several bands of workers on these farms, all calmly engaged in performing their proper tasks.
But the city itself was far more interesting than its surroundings. The buildings were of clay bricks, of a light gray color, little wood being used in their construction. They were of great size and laid out in regular order, forming streets that radiated in all directions from a central square. Directly in the middle of this space was a great circular building which was painted a dark blue color — the only painted building in the city — and lavishly decorated with pearls. The doorways, windows and cornices, and even portions of the dome, were thickly set with these precious gems, only pearls of great size and luster being chosen for the purpose. This was the temple; but I ought to explain that many of these details were not perceived by us at that time, while we circled in the biplane over the city and looked curiously down upon it. Perhaps it was this very curiosity that was our undoing, for I must have neglected the machine in some way to send it suddenly swerving, first to one side and then the other, in an erratic motion that was bewildering and instantly destroyed my cool confidence. The strain on the planes was dangerous, and although we managed to keep our balance I could not steady the thing nor bring it to a stable equilibrium. We were at a dangerous elevation should we fall, and to avoid this catastrophe I involuntarily descended, without any regard as to where we might land.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 723