SIR MATTHEW IMPROVES THE OCCASION
To cut the bonds of the prisoners was the work of only a few moments.
The sailors, the instant they were free, made a rush upon the
villagers' cooking-pots, their passion for food overcoming curiosity,
gratitude, and all other sentiments. Dr. Smith gripped his son's hand,
his emotion being too great for words. Tom slapped his brother on the
back. Lieutenant Underhill was divided between his eagerness to learn
all the circumstances of this strange intervention and his anxiety to
prevent his men from getting out of hand. But a glance at them as they
made free with the natives' provisions relieved him on this score, and
when Smith explained that he had on board the aeroplane certain
delectables in the shape of chicken patties (becoming rather stale),
doughnuts, plumcake, a bottle of Australian burgundy, and sundry other
remnants of the provisions furnished by the hospitable folk of
Palmerston, he voted an immediate adjournment for lunch, and the
officers, with the Smiths, were soon satisfying their clamant hunger.
"How in the world did you know about us?" asked Tom.
"By cable from Brisbane."
"Then our boat did not go down?" said Underhill.
"No; your men lost their sail and rudder, and drifted until they came
into the current along the south coast of New Guinea. They were picked
up by a barque bound for Brisbane, and carried there."
He gave them a rapid summary of his flight across the world. The
sudden change in their fortunes induced a readiness to find amusement
in the most trifling incident, and they laughed loud and long as he
retailed the little mishaps and the comic episodes of his journey.
Then Underhill in his turn related all that had happened since the
wreck, and all became grave again as he told of the capture in the
early morning after their night march, the wild orgy in which their
captors had indulged, the elaborate preparations they had made under
the direction of their sorcerer for the sacrificial rite to which
their captives were destined. But for the appearance of the aeroplane
he had no doubt that within a few short hours they would have been
massacred, and their skulls hung up at the entrance of the huts as
signal marks of the villagers' prowess.
"The poor wretches hate all white men," said Underhill, "and it can
hardly be wondered at. They are recruited to labour in our
plantations, and come back with ailments unknown to them until they
met the white man. They do not distinguish, and a geologist like Dr.
Smith--"
"Ah!" said the doctor anxiously; "my specimens!"
"They are safe, Father," replied Charley. "I saw them in your fort.
The fact that the place had not been looted gave me some hope that you
were still alive. I wonder that the islanders have not made hay of
everything."
"No doubt they deferred the performance until they had disposed of
us," said Underhill. "But now, how do we stand? You have saved us, but
you can't take us all off in your aeroplane."
"A gunboat is on her way here; I passed her; she will arrive soon."
"Hurray!" shouted the men.
"Your men are on her, Mr. Underhill," continued Smith. "She will
probably arrive by the time we get back to the fort."
"That is a difficulty. We must be at least seven or eight miles from
it, and the whole country is forest in which the natives may waylay
us. They have left our rifles, but practically all our ammunition is
gone."
"I have rifles and ammunition, as you see. But the savages have had
such a fright that I think they will keep out of the way of the
aeroplane. If I fly as low as possible over the trees they will hear
the humming and run away, and you can steer your course by the same
sound."
"A good idea. We'll burn their huts and weapons, as a warning to
behave better in future, and then we'll go."
This was done, Smith and Rodier appropriating as trophies several
spears and bows and arrows, and also some of the fetish charms hung at
the entrance to the huts. The crew, having satisfied their hunger,
hunted through the village for loot, and grumbled when they found
nothing that they considered worthy the consideration of British
sailormen. Then Rodier took the aeroplane aloft, Smith having decided
to walk with the rest, and the party set off towards the coast,
marching by the guidance of the sound that descended from the
tree-tops, dulled by its passage through thick layers of foliage.
The scare had proved effectual. Never a sign of the natives was seen
during the three hours' march to the fort. When they reached it, Dr.
Smith hastened at once to assure himself that his specimens and
note-books were safe. Tired out, the whole party lay down to rest.
"We'll go and meet the gunboat, Roddy," said Smith, when the aeroplane
alighted. "Captain Warren will be glad to hear that all is well."
They set off, flew down the coast, and in a few minutes descried the
gunboat, apparently about fifteen miles off.
"All well, sir," shouted Smith, as he met the vessel. "I'll pilot you
to the place."
"You have put my nose out of joint," replied the captain, "and done my
men out of a fight, too. Well, I'm glad Underhill is safe. How far
have we to go?"
"An hour will do it, sir. I'll keep you company; a jog-trot will be a
pleasant change after my scamper."
"Diable, mister," said Rodier; "that will waste an immense quantity of
petrol, and we have none to spare."
"You're right, Roddy. I daresay we have used in the last few hours
enough to carry us to Samoa."
He explained to Captain Warren the necessity he was under of
economizing fuel, and promised to fire a rifle as a guide to him when
the gunboat came abreast of the fort. Then he returned at full speed,
brought the aeroplane to the ground within the enclosure, and having
arranged with his brother to give the signal when the gunboat came in
sight, lay down beside Rodier and was fast asleep in an instant.
He was wakened by a roar of cheering when Captain Warren, with some of
his men, the four members of the crew of the _Albatross_, and a
corpulent little civilian about fifty years old, marched into the
camp, bringing a load of provisions. A huge bonfire was kindled in the
centre of the enclosure, and round it the whole company gathered to
enjoy a royal feast. Darkness had sunk over the land; the flames cast
ruddy reflections upon their features; and no one observing their
cheerful expression, or listening to their merry chat, would have
suspected that, a few hours before, half of the party had been face to
face with a terrible death. Smith was the hero of the day. Lieutenant
Underhill got up and proposed his health; the toast was drunk in wine,
beer, and water, and some wild dogs that had been allured from the
forest by the glare fled howling when the mariners raised their lusty
voices to the tune of "For he's a jolly good fellow." Nor was Rodier
forgotten. Tom Smith called for the honours for him also; he was
acclaimed in shouts of "Good old Frenchie!" "Well done, matey," and
sundry other boisterous tokens of applause.
Nothing would content the party but that Smith should tell the story
of his flight. They listened spell-bound as he related his
experiences at the various stopping-places, and his adventures at sea.
When the story was finished, the cheers broke out again, and the stout
little man who accompanied Captain Warren's party, and whose
spectacles gleamed with good humour, rose to his feet and cleared his
throat.
"Pray, gentlemen, silence for Sir Matthew Menhinick," said Captain
Warren, with twinkling eyes. Sir Matthew was an ex-prime minister of
Queensland, known to his intimates as Merry Matt, and to the whole
continent as a jolly good fellow. Being at Brisbane when the news of
the wreck came, he instantly decided to join Captain Warren's rescue
party. If he had a weakness for hearing his own voice, what could be
expected in a man whose speeches filled volumes of legislative
reports, but who was now in his retirement, deprived of these daily
opportunities of addressing his fellow men?
"Gentlemen," he said, beaming on the company; "officers and gentlemen,
and able seamen of His Majesty's Navy, I am a plain, blunt chap, I am,
as you all know, and I can't dress up what I've got to say in fine
language like the Governor-General, but I can't let this occasion pass
without saying a word or two about the great, the wonderful, the
stupendous achievement of our friend, Mr. Thesiger Smith. (Loud
cheers.) This is a proud moment in my life. I remember when I was a
nipper in London, before any of you were born except our friend the
doctor, I saw in a place called Cremorne Gardens a silly fellow of a
Frenchman--present company excepted--try to fly with wings strapped to
his arms. Of course he came a cropper and broke his back. I remember
my dear old mother shaking her head and telling over to me that fine
bit of poetry:
Cows and horses walk on four legs,
Little children walk on two legs;
Fishes swim in water clear,
Birds fly high into the air;
and impressing on me that boys mustn't be little beasts, nor try to be
fishes, or birds, or anything else they wasn't meant to be. But now,
gentlemen, in this wonderful twentieth century, them old doctrines are
as dead as Queen Anne. We've got submarines diving and roving along in
the depths of the sea; we've got aeroplanes that fly up into the air;
and we've got men, gentlemen, men of grit and backbone, men of courage
and determination, that 'fear no foe in shining armour,' men like our
friend Mr. Smith (roars of applause), who brave the perils of the deep
and the chance of the empyrean, who take their lives in their hands
and think nothing of it. Some croakers will tell you the Old Country
is going to the dogs. Don't you believe it. ("We won't.") I don't
believe she ever will go to the dogs while she's got left a man of the
old, honourable, and respected name of Smith. (Laughter and cheers.)
"Mr. Underhill just now referred in feeling terms to the personal
results of Mr. Smith's enterprise. But for him, some of our number
would by this time have crossed the bourne whence no traveller
returns. I need not speak of the joy and pride that must have filled a
father's and a brother's breast--" (Here the speaker blew his nose and
wiped a mist from his spectacles. Then he resumed.) "As I was saying,
our friend has accomplished a wonderful feat, gentlemen. He has come
twelve thousand miles in three days and a half. That's a thing to be
proud of. He tells me he's going to get back in another three days and
a half. I am sure I speak for you all when I say 'good luck to him!'
("hear! hear!") Think what it means, gentlemen. It means going round
the world in a week. When I was last in England I met a man at a hotel
who kept me up till three in the morning proving to me that the earth
is flat. I'll give Mr. Smith his address, and when he gets home he can
go and prove to him that _he's_ a flat. (Laughter.) You remember in a
play of Shakespeare there's a little chap that says he'll put a girdle
round the earth in forty minutes. His name was Puck, gentlemen. Mr.
Smith won't do it quite so quick--not this journey, at any rate--but
who knows what these young scientific fellows will be a-doing of next?
Mr. Smith's aeroplane hasn't got a name, I believe, but he'd better
christen it Puck, which is the same as the Indian word _pukka_, and
means 'jolly good.'"
"Now I'm not going to make a speech, so I'll just conclude these few
remarks by wishing Mr. Smith a safe journey home, quick promotion, and
a seat in the House of Lords. He's used to going up, and that's about
as far up as he can go."
When the cheering had ceased, the company crowded about the aeroplane,
and gazed at it as if by sheer hard staring they might discover the
secret of its speed.
While Rodier explained its working to some of them, Smith sat with the
officers, his father and brother, and Sir Matthew, discussing the
immediate future.
"You must be very tired," said his father. "Don't you think you have
better give up the idea of returning at once, and come with us? The
Admiralty will stretch a point if we cable an explanation."
"On no account, father," replied Smith. "I am going back. I had the
good luck to get here in time. That's all right so far. But after
coming through the air I couldn't stand a slow voyage back; it would
be like riding in a growler after a taxi. Besides, I confess I am out
to make a record. I can't make a name in geology, but why shouldn't I
go down to posterity as the first man to fly round the world?"
"In seven days, as Sir Matthew remarked," added Tom. "It will be
rather a feather in your cap, old fellow, if you can do it."
"Oh, I'll do it, if only my engine holds out. By the way, Roddy ought
to be cleaning up in preparation for starting. I hope he won't be
demoralized by this ovation. Roddy," he called, "it's time to clean
up."
"All right, mister," replied the French man. "I'll take the shine out
of her."
"Roddy's English is not perfectly accurate," said Smith, laughing;
"but he's exactness itself in his work." He pulled out his watch.
"It's exactly eighty-one hours since I left London; I've got
eighty-seven to get back in."
"How will you go?" asked Underhill.
"First to Samoa, then Honolulu, then 'Frisco, and straight across the
States."
"You'll have to beware of interviewers," said Tom. "You may be sure
the newspaper men have got wind of you by this time."
"I don't know. Barracombe wouldn't say anything; I don't think Johnson
in Constantinople would, and--"
"My dear fellow, don't make any mistake," said Captain Warren.
"Nobody ever does say anything, but the newspaper men somehow or other
know what you think about when you're abed and asleep."
"They must all be Irishmen, then."
"Or Americans. I wouldn't mind betting that they are getting up a
reception for you at 'Frisco--"
"But they don't know I'm going there."
"No matter; the word has gone out to keep a watch for you, and every
town in the States will be on the _qui vive_. I'm rather sorry for you
when you come down for petrol; you won't get off so easily as you did
on the way out."
"Of course you won't," said Tom. "I suppose you'll wire ahead for
petrol to be held ready for you? That will give you away."
"No, I shall chance it. I can get petrol in any town in the States,
and I won't risk delay by announcing myself."
"You had better have a good sleep before you start," said Underhill.
"What time do you want to go?"
"Not later than midnight."
"Well, you've got nearly four hours. Your man had better sleep, too.
I'll see to the engine."
"Roddy won't allow that. I see that he has got help. He'll be finished
in half-an-hour. By all means put him to bed then, if you'll promise
to wake us both in good time."
"I'll do that. I won't spoil sport. Go to the further end of the camp,
and I'll tuck you up in the tarpaulin, put some food on board, and see
that everything is shipshape."
Smith was glad enough to avail himself of the opportunity of three or
four hours' continuous sleep on land. Rodier showed more reluctance,
declaring that he was as fit as a fiddle; but Captain Warren bore him
away from the crowd of admirers, and stood over him until he, like his
master, was sleeping soundly.
A quarter of an hour before midnight the two airmen were awakened.
Farewells were said, hands were shaken all round, every one wish them
good luck, and precisely at twelve they took their seats and set forth
on the two thousand miles flight to Samoa.