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 get 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 Señor 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 stern, 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 water front 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.

It was almost a fall, as it was. We first dove headlong, at a dangerous angle, and then I swung her head up, shut off the motor, and she fluttered, rocked and came to a sudden stop with a jolt that well nigh drove the breath from our bodies. Joe pitched from the seat and rolled over a few times; then he sat up and looked at me in a dazed way that would have made me laugh had I not been wondering just then how many bones I had broken. But after the jar on my nerves had subsided I crawled out of the machine, which dropped its planes as if ashamed of its rude action, and found we were on the flat top of one of the high buildings that overlooked the place of the Pearl Temple.

I crawled to the edge, which had a low parapet, and looked over. A hundred eyes met mine, staring at me with wonder in spite of the stoic nature of these remarkable islanders.

It was not strange that they marveled. Airships are not yet everyday affairs in our own country, so this one might well startle the natives of a secluded South Sea island which even ships do not sight. I am not certain which party was at first most bewildered, Joe and I or the Faytans; but we were first to recover, and our desperate situation called for decisive thought.

Hastily I ran over the machine. A guide rope had parted, and I promptly knotted it together again. In all other respects the Antoinette seemed uninjured.

“Get aboard, Joe!” I cried; “we must make a run for it the best way we can.”

“Someone has to push the thing,” he returned. “I’ll start it and you take it away, Sam. If you reach the ship safely you can come back with a rescue party.”

“That’s nonsense!” I exclaimed. “I won’t go without you, and you know it. Here, help me run it over to the edge, and we’ll see what we can do. It may dip at first, but there is lots of room in the square down there for us to get a start and rise again.”

“And lots of savages to grab us if we bump the ground. My way’s best, Sam.”

“Your way is impossible!” said I. “We will either go together, or we’ll both stay right here.”

The speech was prophetic. Before I had the words well out of my mouth the natives began to pour in a stream out upon the roof, coming through a square hole in the center which we had not thought to guard.

Each of us was armed with a brace of revolvers, but we hesitated to use them. As we backed away to the furthermost edge I said to Joe:

“Don’t shoot. They’ll capture us anyhow by force of numbers, and we’ll stand better with them if we don’t hurt anyone. Keep your pistols out of sight, for a better time may come to use them.”

Joe nodded.

“You’re right,” he said briefly.

The Faytans lined up before us, a score of great muscular fellows with singularly intelligent features and of grave, dignified demeanor. As I looked upon them I decided to adopt a certain plan of action. Extending my hand and smiling in a fearless, friendly manner, I slowly advanced toward the man directly in front of me. There seemed to be no captain or leader among them.

“Greeting, good friends,” I said in the language of Tuamotu, the island Nux and Bry had come from, and which they had long ago taught me to speak. All the natives of the South Seas have, I believe, a common language, although each island seems to use a dialect or “brogue” of its own. At any rate the islanders seem able to understand one another when they meet in peace or war, and for that reason I hoped to make myself understood.

That I succeeded was soon apparent. The man did not take my extended hand, but he said in a deep, musical voice:

“We are not friends. It is not possible.”

“No?” I returned, as if astonished. And, indeed, his frankness was surprising, for these islanders are usually subtle and deceptive, claiming friendship when they intend murder. “Why is it not possible for us to be friends?”

“Because you come unasked. Because we do not harbor strangers. Because intruders deserve death, and the laws of the Faytans decree it.”

This was not at all pleasant.

“We came not here of our own will,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. “The gods of the Storm and Wind thrust us upon your island. We wish to go away; to return to our own country.”

“That cannot be,” said another standing near the first speaker. “To allow a stranger from the world beyond the sea to escape would be to allow him to carry tales of Faytan to his countrymen. Then they would send many boats here to rob us of our pearls and make us trouble.”

“Therefore,” added another, “you must die to save Faytan.”

“In what way?” I asked, more to gain time than because the mode of dying interested me just then.

“The King will determine that. We will take you to the King.”

“Very well,” I responded cheerfully. “Come, Joe; let’s visit the King.”

He grinned at this, for Joe isn’t easily scared, and we allowed the Faytans to escort us from the roof, going so docilely that they did not bind us or even touch our bodies. They merely surrounded us in a dense mass, and since they were of gigantic size and strong as bulls that was as secure a method as any.

The house through which we passed was not badly arranged or furnished. We saw numerous rooms from the corridors we traversed, and they were more pleasant and homelike than you might suppose, considering this to be an uncivilized island which the world’s progress had never yet thought of.

The square outside—it was a circle, really—was thronged with men, women and children, all scantily clad as far as clothing was concerned, but the humblest wearing a fortune in pearl ornaments.

This island of Faytan must be very populous. There were at least two hundred men in the boats guarding the reefs; the forest was full of them; many were working in the fields, and still the Pearl City was packed full, as far as we could see. The natives were of superior physique and intelligence. We had thought Nux and Bry exceptionally well built fellows, for South Sea Islanders, and we had often proved their fidelity and keenness of intellect; but the Faytans were fully their equals in every respect, and I knew from the reports of Tuamotu that they had no such capital as the Pearl City and lived in a more primitive manner.

Crossing the square between close ranks of silent, staring natives, we were escorted to the steps of the Great Temple and in through a high arched doorway.