Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  Perhaps inspired by a common hope we all descended the ladders to the ground. There we were better able to appreciate all that had happened. Except that the sky was still gray and forbidding, we now had plenty of light to examine our surroundings clearly.

  One glance at the Seagull dispelled our half formed hopes. Although her keel was now on a level with the ocean, which even lapped her bow, the ship was wedged fast between the two huge rocks. These must have separated during the earthquake and allowed her to settle down into her present position; but they still held her as in a vise.

  “If another quake comes, which ain’t unlikely,” observed Uncle Naboth, “them rocks is liable to come together again, in which case they’d crack the Seagull’s sides like a nut in the jaws of a nutcracker.”

  It was quite possible, and the statement did not reassure us in the least.

  “If we could but manage to launch her,” said Alfonso, “we have now plenty of deep water for her to slide into.”

  My uncle looked at the young Colombian reproachfully.

  “Them ‘ifs’ seem to excuse a lot of fool remarks,” he said. “The only way to launch the Seagull would be with dynamite, and after that she wouldn’t be likely to float.”

  It was now the middle of the afternoon, and although the sky continued gloomy there was no air stirring and I dared not wait longer if I meant to rescue Joe. I was very uneasy about my old chum, for the earthquake was likely to have created as much havoc at the Pearl City as it had at this end of the island.

  My father had gone into the hold with the carpenter and Ned to examine the condition of the ship. The little damage we had sustained from the typhoon which had tossed the ship to her elevated perch had already been repaired — quite foolishly we thought. But the Seagull was still dear to the heart of Captain Steele, and he took as much care of her now that she was useless as when she was proudly riding the waves.

  “What’s the programme?” asked Uncle Naboth, as I prepared to start.

  “I’m going to try to get to the city and find Joe. If possible I’ll get him aboard and fetch him back with me. That’s as far as I can plan now, Uncle.”

  “You won’t be foolhardy?”

  “I’ll try not to be.”

  Then I took my seat, Lucia started the motors, and a moment later I was flying over the forest.

  CHAPTER 18

  A RUN FOR LIFE

  Ascending to an altitude of several hundred feet I attempted what is called the “spiral dip,” circling in the air while gradually descending. But the shadows lay so thick in the forest that I could not tell whether any Faytans remained there or not. So I rose again and headed east across the island in the direction of the Pearl City.

  I must have covered five of the ten miles in the next five minutes, and the machine was working perfectly, when on glancing down I discovered a native sprinting across the fields at a rapid pace. After him, but nearly a quarter of a mile away, rushed a horde of savages. There must have been at least two thousand of them, all intent upon the chase.

  This was so peculiar that I did another spiral dip to get a little closer to the scene of action, and as I neared the ground and could see more plainly it suddenly flashed upon me that the flying native was Joe. Lucia had said that he had stained his skin and dressed himself in the native loin cloth, but I had forgotten that until now. It explained the scene perfectly. Joe had been discovered in the Pearl City, but had managed to escape and was now heading for the ship, followed by a host of pursuers.

  My friend was a mighty runner; I knew that. It was Joe’s especial athletic accomplishment, and with such a lead I believed he could keep the Faytans behind him until he reached the ship, unless — unless the forest still harbored an army of warriors, in which case they could easily head him off.

  With this contingency in mind I resolved to pick him up and take him with me; so, judging the distance as accurately as I could, I swooped downward and landed about a hundred yards ahead of the fugitive.

  “Climb aboard, Joe!” I called. “Take it easy, old man. We’re safe enough now.”

  He dashed up, panting but still full of energy, and said:

  “How can we start her, Sam?”

  “Take your seat, and I’ll show you,” I replied. I had seen Lucia do the trick and thought I could repeat it. The motor started, but the machine would not rise. It bumped along the rough ground a way until I became alarmed and stopped it.

  “Try again,” said Joe, coolly.

  I glanced over my shoulder and found the Faytans were getting uncomfortably near. But I kept my wits and took time to readjust the machine a little, so it would rise more quickly. A half dozen or so of the pursuers were well in advance of the others, and I suspected they might interfere with our start. So I faced about and carefully emptied my revolvers at them, halting all but one. Then I turned back to the machine, started the motor and ran beside it a few paces before I sprang into the seat.

  Just then I heard a revolver crack beside me, but could pay no attention to it because the biplane was speeding into the air at a tremendous clip. It persisted in mounting upward, because I had adjusted it that way, and in working the steering gear to obviate this the machine got a side motion that was both unpleasant and dangerous.

  “Steady her, Sam!” called Joe; but I couldn’t.

  To add to my perplexity it grew dark again; the moaning sound was repeated, and looking down I saw the earth shaking under me like a bowl full of jelly. It was a horrible sight, and in my agitation I must have bungled in some way, for the fearful side motion increased, and both of us had to hold fast to keep from being hurled from our seats.

  Suddenly the biplane took a dive — swift as a bullet, but was supported from falling by the outstretched planes. I lost all control, but managed to shut off the motor and then cling to the frame with all my might.

  Down, down we went, but fortunately still gliding diagonally in the direction of the ship. It was a regular tumble by this time, and I am positive the biplane turned over and over several times. We just skipped the further edge of the forest and crashed into the branches of a fallen tree — one of those felled by the earthquake. With a jar that drove the breath out of me I bounded from the branches and fell prone upon the ground. Joe landed near me, and aside from the severe shock we both escaped serious injury or the breaking of bones and soon scrambled to our feet.

  I had turned to glance at the biplane, now a hopeless mass of junk, when Joe suddenly caught my hand and said:

  “We must run for it, Sam!”

  Bursting in a stream from the forest came hundreds of Faytan warriors, brandishing their weapons as they ran. They were so near that an arrow or a well thrown spear might have caught us easily, but the savages seemed intent on capturing us.

  I am not a great runner, but on this occasion, at least, I did myself credit as a sprinter. Joe’s hand in mine and his superior swiftness helped, of course, and we managed to keep a lead till we were near the ship, when a volley from the deck effectually halted our pursuers.

  Even as we clambered up the side by means of the ladders they let down, the sky darkened again and another tremble shook the earth. It made us totter, but was not severe enough to cause any especial damage, and we were all getting used to the quakes by this time, so were not much frightened. Scientists have told me they are puzzled to explain this apparent connection between the sky and the earthquakes. Atmospheric conditions have nothing to do with earth convulsions, and vice versa, they say. Yet it is a fact that in Faytan we could tell when a “tremble” was coming by the sudden darkening of the sky.

  The Faytans were learning a few lessons by experience. When the light became strong enough for us to see again we found the plain fairly alive with natives, and more were constantly pouring in from the forest.

  At once all hands were assembled at the rail and our men lost no time in opening fire, for we did not dare give our enemies time to attempt to board us in such numbers, and it was now much easier to sca
le our sides since the ship had settled down to the sea level.

  “Train the howitzers!” called my father, and the gunners leaped to their posts. We had not used the cannon before, as they had not been required, but now the savages were massed before us on the plain and a charge of grape and canister was more effective than many rifle balls.

  We took the aggressive and without waiting to be attacked fired the two cannon, one after another, point blank into the mass of Faytans. It was still too dark for us to see just what had been accomplished, but I shudder to think of the wholesale destruction we must have caused. They were doggedly determined, however, to get the “pale-skins” at any cost, and if we destroyed hundreds there were hundreds more to take their places.

  Presently they were swarming below us so close that the cannon were only effective in slaughtering those crowding the plain behind them, and every one of us able to hold a rifle stood at the rail and picked off the nearest of our enemies. Their method of getting aboard was curiously primitive. One man clung to the end of a long pole, which others raised in the air and lifted so he could catch our rail. We had little difficulty at first in shooting these down as fast as they were raised to our level; but the attack was concerted with some skill, and every inch of the rail needed to be guarded.

  “It must be the young king who is directing this battle,” I said to Joe as we stood side by side, firing whenever we saw a head appear.

  “It can’t be the king,” he replied. “I shot him just as you carried me off in the biplane.”

  “You shot the king!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes. He was right upon us and about to grab the frame when I let go at him. Didn’t you hear me shoot?”

  “Yes, but I was busy with the machine. I’m rather sorry for Attero,” I answered, regretfully.

  “My opinion is that the Crooked One has planned this onslaught,” continued Joe, “and that he is bound to get us this time at any sacrifice. He’s a wily old fox.”

  We were too busy after that for further conversation. The smoke and din of battle was something terrifying, and even now I wonder that the savages were not disheartened by the noise and the sight of their comrades falling on all sides of them. When we consider how unused they were to firearms we must admit their courage was wonderful.

  I think we all began to realize that the situation was serious. On deck Alfonso was fighting as well as he could with his broken arm, while his father stood at his side and rendered an excellent account of himself. Below in the cabin Madam de Alcantara had first fainted and then gone into convulsions. Her shrill screams were not the least disheartening sounds that reached our ears, yet I knew Lucia and Madam de Jiminez were with her and that the poor lady was only frightened and not in a dying condition.

  The constant tax on our nerves and the need to be constantly alert was fast wearing out the strongest of us. Bryonia, who had fought nobly, came over to me presently and suggested that we get the women into one of the small boats and launch it while all of us covered the retreat with our guns. He thought they might escape in that way, whereas we were almost certain to be overcome at length by sheer force of numbers, and then all would be doomed.

  I did not approve of the attempt myself, but counseled with my father, and Uncle Naboth, who promptly turned down the proposition. Just then four Faytans succeeded in leaping aboard, and were engaged in a hand to hand fight with Nux and Bry, who met them, when Ned got a sword through one and Joe disposed of another with a pistol shot. That evened the numbers and our blacks were not long in ridding themselves of their opponents.

  But this temporary invasion was a warning that we were losing ground and our enemies gaining confidence, so we redoubled our activity and found plenty to do in protecting ourselves from the boarders.

  CHAPTER 19

  A CAPRICIOUS EARTHQUAKE

  The fight was still raging fiercely when blackness fell upon us once more, and for the first time I became panic-stricken. The sky had not been clear all day, but we had managed to see until now, ever since the fight began, but with a black pall hanging all around us and thousands of enemies marking us for death the outlook was absolutely terrifying. The Faytans had not been afraid of the dark before, and if now they had the temerity to continue the attack we could not hope to resist them long.

  My fears were soon justified. I heard Joe cry: “Look out, Sam!” and felt rather than saw a big warrior standing before me. The moaning sound that preceded a quake sang in my ears as I struck out furiously with my cutlass, and then the ship reared her stem and pitched us all in a struggling mass down the incline of the deck to the bow.

  I struck against a naked body and two hands grasped my throat and effectually stopped my breath until I got a pistol out and shot my assailant dead. At least he relaxed his hold and slid away from me — and I slid too, rolling and bumping against obstacles of every sort till my bones cracked. And now through the pitch darkness everything seemed to go — ship and all — and a sheet of water struck me and made me gasp.

  The Seagull was level now, but rolled from side to side while big waves dashed over her and rushed out of the scuppers in a perpetual stream. I heard a faint cheer from the forecastle; but now the elements were in a wild turmoil and I was too utterly bewildered to think.

  The wind had instantly risen to a gale; the waves beat upon us in fury, and through the darkness the Seagull floundered here and there in an aimless way that was puzzling and perilous.

  While I clung to a bit of rigging and tried to get my breath I realized but one thing clearly — that the ship was afloat again. An earthquake more severe than any that had previously occurred had split the two rocks asunder and allowed her to slide into the sea. But where were we now? And where were the Faytans?

  It takes a good deal to phase Captain Steele. Even while I stood marveling my father had grasped the wheel, and as our rudder and screw had been fully repaired the aimless pitching of the ship was rectified as soon as her head was brought to the wind and she faced the waves. Then suddenly the sky brightened sufficiently for us to see one another again.

  In the bow stood huddled a group of nearly a dozen Faytan warriors, while our men were scattered here and there clinging to whatever support they could find. I found that Joe wasn’t a dozen yards away from me. The Seagull was floating serenely on a rather turbulent sea and the coast of Faytan was a quarter of a mile on our lea.

  We stared at the warriors a moment, and they stared at us. Then with one accord we all made an advance toward the savages, determined to settle the fight the first thing we did. They did not wait for us, but leaped the rail into the sea and began swimming toward their island.

  “Let ‘em go!” shouted my father. “And some of you get busy and toss those bodies overboard. Where’s the firemen? Step lively, lads, and get up steam as soon as the Lord’ll let you.”

  The men gave a cheer and responded with alacrity. We stripped all the pearl ornaments from the dead natives that cluttered the deck, and afterward threw the bodies overboard. During this operation I came upon Senor de Jiminez seated in the scupper with his back to the bulwark and sobbing like a baby.

  “Is anything wrong, sir?” I asked anxiously.

  “No — no! Everything is right,” he answered. “We are saved — the revolution is saved! Hurrah for the revolution!”

  Joy affects some people that way, but I have no patience with men who cry.

  We got up steam presently, but found the Seagull was leaking like a sieve. It took all the power of our engines to keep the pumps going; so my father ordered sail hoisted, and as the wind had moderated to a stiff breeze we were soon bowling along with the mainsail and jib set. The mizzenmast had gone by the board at the time of the wreck.

  My father’s face wore an anxious expression and he called Uncle Naboth and me into the cabin for a consultation.

  “We can keep afloat this way for a time — perhaps for days, if the leaks don’t get worse,” he said; “but it’s foolish to take such chances. There ar
e islands near by, I’m sure. Shall we stop at the first one we sight?”

  “H-m. It might prove to be another Faytan,” said my uncle, doubtfully. “I’ve had enough fighting to last me for a while.”

  “Wait a moment,” said I. “I want to get Bry.”

  “What for?” demanded my father.

  “He’s the only one aboard who knows these seas,” I replied.

  Bryonia came to the cabin and being questioned declared that he knew the way to his own island of Tuamotu from here, but could not tell how to get from there back to our regular course.

  “I know, though,” said Captain Steele, “for Tuamotu is marked on my chart. It seems a French ship stopped there once, and did some trading with the natives, so I’ve got it pretty fairly located.”

  “But what sort of a reception will your people give us, Bry?” I asked.

  He smiled.

  “I am Chief of Tuamotu,” he answered proudly. “I am equal to a king. My friends will be welcome.”

  “All right,” said my father. “Take the wheel, Bry, and steer us towards Tuamotu.”

  Bry became navigator then, and although he knew nothing of the science, he possessed an instinct that guided him correctly. Having once been over the course from Tuamotu to Faytan he had the points firmly fixed in his mind, and as the distance was only about a hundred miles and the breeze held finely, on the second day we sighted a big island which both Bry and Nux declared to be Tuamotu.

  Meantime a semblance of order had been restored to the ship. From being in the depths of despair our passengers were now elated with hope. They paid little heed to the fact that water was pouring into our hold as fast as the engines could pump it out, for having escaped the more tangible dangers of Faytan they believed our luck had changed and all would now be well with us.

  Our men realized the situation and wore grave looks. But Lucia pounded the piano and sang her Spanish songs, Senor de Jiminez resumed his writing of the speech to be delivered before the Colombian Congress, and Madam de Alcantara dressed herself in her most gorgeous robes and declared she had enjoyed her recent adventure except for a sad attack of “nerves.”