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 scale 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 blades 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.