SAVED BY THE SEARCHLIGHT
What our flyers saw was a very large body of water, with a strong tone
of blue to it. As far to the north as they could see, it stretched,
also to the east and south. And the shoreline on the western side
nearest them was covered with what seemed a never-ending border of
great forest trees, many of which had all the characteristics of
mangroves.
This great expanse of water they knew could not be the Red Sea, nor
could it be the Indian Ocean; for they had not traveled far enough
westward to reach these bodies. Unquestionably, therefore, it was that
which they were looking for--Lake Chad.
As they swept nearer, under reduced speed, they observed somewhat to
their left a good-sized collection of dwellings in an opening among the
mangroves, evidently a town. Swerving in that direction they were soon
circling above the place at an altitude of about five hundred feet,
hoping that it might prove to be Kuka, their next stop.
By this time it had grown so dark that they could just make out the
buildings and surroundings. The former seemed to be nothing more than
rude huts with rounded thatched roofs covered by saplings. The flyers
saw many dark figures, with little or no garb, running about and
excitedly gesticulating upward to their position. As they circled
lower, these figures, evidently natives, suddenly vanished within their
abodes.
"They seem scared to death of us," remarked Paul, laughing.
"Apparently they think the Sky-Bird is some gigantic member of the
feathered kingdom about to swoop down and devour them for their sins,"
added Paul, who was equally amused. "Pete Deveaux and his crowd ought
to have landed here some time this morning, though, and you would think
the sight of their machine taking on gas would have gotten the blacks
used to an airplane."
Be that as it may, every one of the dusky figures below had vanished as
though the earth had swallowed them up. A strange if not foreboding
stillness hung over the town. You would have thought it contained not
a single being, at least not one who was awake.
All at once John, who had been intently looking around the outskirts of
the town, observed an open spot marked with the welcome sign of a white
T. He joyfully called the attention of his comrades to this, and as
they looked they saw the form of a man emerge from the shadows
bordering the field and wave his arms upward at them. From the fact
that this person was attired in European costume, they judged he must
be Mr. MacInnis, the Scotch trader who had been appointed to look after
their fuel interests at this point.
It was a novel experience to be able to make a landing unhampered by
throngs of curious inhabitants, as they now did. The field was quite
level, though sandy, as might be expected so close to the big desert,
and they had to dodge several clumps of small growths, presumably juju
trees, before they could taxi to a stop.
The man in linen now rushed up to them, and introduced himself as Mr.
MacInnis. He hurriedly shook hands with the boys, displaying, they
thought, great nervousness while greeting them, and several times he
turned his head and looked in the direction of the nearest shacks of
the town.
Then he asked what they thought a very queer question. "Have you
fellows enough petrol and oil to last you through to your next stop?"
"That's Aden," answered John; "we didn't fill to capacity at Freetown,
and I'm afraid not. Why, what is the matter? Haven't you any fuel
here for us?"
"I have plenty of both petrol and oil here for you," said the
Scotchman, with another look toward the huts, "but I am afraid for your
lives if you stay to put it aboard."
"How is that?" cried Tom, his usually smiling countenance growing sober
for once, while his companions felt a vague uneasiness.
"It's this way," stated MacInnis. "About eight o'clock this morning
the airplane that is racing you came in. It was the first machine of
the kind the natives had ever seen, and they were greatly frightened,
thinking Jobbajobba, one of their heathen devils, had appeared in the
guise of a great bird, and was about to attack the children of the
wicked of them. When the aviators climbed out, and they saw that they
were human, they lost some of this fear, but remained at a respectable
distance all the time the 'great bird was being given a drink.' Then
two of the men--one was the slender and dark-complexioned fellow--went
into the town sight-seeing. In the course of their rounds they stole
the ivory head, set with gold eyes and teeth, off of the body of one of
the tribe's most cherished idols, the god of Ogu Nogo. This was not
discovered until the aviators had departed in their airplane, but then
the Fulbees were wild with rage at the 'bird-men,' as they called them,
and swore to kill them if they should ever return. To-night they
observed you landing, as I did. They are now in hiding, probably with
weapons, and are undoubtedly watching your every move, ready to strike
when the time comes, thinking you to be those other fellows or men of
as evil instincts. As I said, I fear for your lives if you tarry
here." And as he finished he once more glanced nervously around at the
huts and shacks in the gloom of the fast-gathering night.
But in that direction all was so quiet that John hopefully remarked: "I
think they are too frightened to appear. We need more gasoline, as we
have been running very hard and our tanks are low. We will hurry
matters up, and three of us will fill while the other stands guard with
a rifle."
Mr. MacInnis then helped John, Tom, and Paul carry the big square tins
of British petrol, which is the same as American gasoline, from the
field shelter to the Sky-Bird, where, in the course of a half-hour, two
hundred gallons were poured into the tanks, also ten gallons of oil.
In the meantime, Bob Giddings, rifle in hand, stood close by, alert for
danger. He watched the nearest buildings of the natives sharply, but
though he saw numbers of black figures skulking in the shadows among
them, no sign of hostility was observed.
The Scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the
stop of the flyers at Kuka,--the paper on which they were to secure
certifications at every scheduled airport,--and they were just in the
act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the
airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising
chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of
savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into
the open field. They emerged in a long straggling line, hooting and
brandishing guns, spears and bows. They advanced toward the airplane
in peculiar hops and side jumps, as if fearing an attack upon
themselves. Not once did they cease their blood-curdling shouts.
Rapidly they neared the objects of their anger and hatred.
For a full five seconds the boys stood as if rooted in their tracks,
too horrified and astounded to think or act. The sharp voice of the
Scotchman, however, brought them to their senses.
"You've fooled here too long; it's too late to get away now! They're
mad as wet hornets. Jump inside your cabin quick, and defend
yourselves as well as you can!"
"But you, sir?" cried Tom.
"They won't harm me, because I'm not a flyer."
The boys dashed into the cabin and shut the door, while the Scotchman
hurried away from the airplane. It was certain that there was no time
to get out and crank the propeller and rise before the mad Fulbees
would be upon them. Cornered in the little cabin of the machine they
would sell their lives as dearly as possible.
As they stood, guns in hand, watching through the windows, while the
frenzied blacks drew cautiously nearer, spreading a cordon of hundreds
all around the Sky-Bird, they could see in the moonlight that the
Fulbees were grotesquely painted on arms and faces, while their bodies
were entirely naked except for a dirty-looking cloth wrapped around
their loins in the form of a short skirt. Every one of them was armed,
and as they contracted their circle, guns, spears, and bows were
frequently raised in threatening position; but for some reason no shots
were fired. The inmates knew, however, that when nearer approach
brought more assurance of hitting their target, the blacks could be
counted upon to open up actual hostilities.
And now this thought brought a sudden and grave fear to their minds,
one unnoticed before. The helium-gas tanks in the hollow wings and
rear fuselage! Bullets, spears and arrows striking them would
penetrate, and the tanks thus punctured would lose their last ounce of
the precious gas!
It was a terrible predicament in which the flyers now found themselves,
to be sure. By fighting they might preserve their lives, but that very
act would make their world-trip impossible. What could they do?
As the drowning man catches with hope at the floating straw. Bob now
conceived an almost impossible but startling idea for delivering them
from their dilemma.
"The searchlight!" he cried. "These blacks never have seen one.
Perhaps we can frighten them away with ours!"
"Great idea, Bob," approved John, while the others also applauded the
scheme. "Paul, you work the lever that revolves the lamp up on top of
the cabin there, and, Bob, you throw in the juice."
No sooner had he spoken, than both boys were at their stations. The
next moment a great white path, widening as it went, streamed out into
the darkness, lighting up everything in its reach with the brilliancy
of day, but with a bluish-whiteness which must have been decidedly
terrifying to the superstitious negroes. Like an accusing finger the
strange light swept around the field, raising and lowering, resting a
few moments on this group and then that group of petrified,
hideously-painted faces, from which eyeballs stood out like knobs of
white marble.
In an instant their incensed cries had ceased, and they had shrunk,
cringing, back in their tracks. But only for a few moments, and then
their gurgled yells arose once more, this time in ear-splitting fright,
as all turned and fled toward the nearest forest. And that great,
terrifying white eye of the big "bird" followed them, shining for many
a rod on black backs which were so wet with perspiration that they
looked like oiled eelskin. Weapons were thrown in every direction as
the Fulbees fled. Whenever one would look around and see that glaring
eye looking straight at him, he would shut his own eyes and shriek, and
then go dashing frantically on. Some even threw themselves prostrate
when the flood overtook them, and uttered invocations to their gods for
protection from the monster, until they could pluck up courage enough
to continue their flight.
Had the situation not recently been such a serious one for them--indeed
they were not out of it yet!--the flyers would have roared with
laughter. As it was, they kept the light traveling over the Fulbees
until the very last one had fled. Then at a quick word from John, they
all jumped out of the cabin and swung the airplane around for a quick
take-off.
Tom spun the propeller; there was a roar as the engine caught, and a
few seconds later they were mounting up into the starlit heavens of the
equatorial night. At a height of two thousand feet, they presently
looked down, safe from the menace of the black populace whose reception
had been so rabid.
But Kuka was blotted out in the mantle of gloom which lay between.
Only the sparkling ripples of Lake Chad, struck by the beautiful
tropical moon, could be seen.