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.