Chapter 9

ALFONSO’S ANTOINETTE

Nothing happened this second day of our imprisonment. The Faytans evidently had some plan of campaign mapped out, or they would not have established the patrol of canoes. We began to consider what their intentions could be.

“Let’s give ’em credit for a leetle intelligence,” said Uncle Naboth, who had been studying the natives through his binoculars. “The chief that runs this place must have some ability, and as soon as he discovered us here he must ’a’ thought it all out. Mebbe he lay awake doin’ it, for next mornin’ we found them canoes on guard. That was the first trick in the game.”

“Not a bad one, either,” I remarked.

“Not from the chief’s standpoint. It kept us from escapin’ in the boats, which is the one thing, it seems, he don’t intend to let happen. Now, our boys here,” pointing to Bryonia and Nux, “have a notion that the Pearl People don’t want any strangers around. They never let ’em land, if they can help it, and drive ’em away or kill ’em. Accordin’ to that theory the Faytans ought to be glad to have us go. But here they are, keepin’ us fast prisoners. Why’s that, Bry?”

Bryonia had stood moodily silent. He now looked up and shook his head.

“Can’t say, Mars Nabot’,” he answered. But he spoke in a hesitating way that led me to think he preferred not to speak frankly.

“It’s really a puzzler,” resumed Uncle Naboth. “If they mean to kill us, why don’t they start in and fight it out?”

“Perhaps they realize our position is impregnable,” I suggested.

“It ain’t exactly that,” declared my uncle. “If they happen to think to shoot some burnin’ arrers at us, they can easily set fire to the ship, an’ then we’re done for.”

“Not knowin’ about ships, they may not think of that,” said my father, uneasily.

“Well, what then?” asked De Jiminez.

“Then,” replied Joe, “the wily islanders expect to conquer us in one of two ways. First to starve us out, and—”

“They can’t do that in a hurry,” muttered the Captain.

“And second to let us die of thirst,” continued Joe.

We all became thoughtful at this suggestion. I knew we had supplies of fresh water sufficient for an ordinary voyage, and an aërator to doctor it with if it became stagnant and unpalatable; but barreled water is not the safest thing to depend upon, and thirst was a greater menace than lack of food. Yet it seemed improbable that a savage chieftain would have thought this all out and determined upon so tedious and unwarlike a plan of conquest.

Afterward I found Bryonia alone and said to him:

“Why do you think the Faytans wish to keep us here?”

“Don’ know, Mars Sam.”

“Yes you do, Bry. Anyhow, you’ve some idea.”

“I may be wrong.”

“This is in confidence, Bry. You may trust me.”

He hesitated a moment.

“I wish, Mars Sam,” he said in a low voice, speaking his native tongue, “that the lady passengers had not showed themselves.”

“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 Señor 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 Bleriot 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 aërial 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 stern 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 Señor 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 aëronaut 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 aëroplane being mixed in a confused jumble.