FLIGHT
'I don't think nothing of this 'ere percession, sir--nothing at all,'
said Grinson, tramping beside Hoole. 'It ain't my idea of a
percession--not by a long chalk. I 've seed hundreds of Lord Mayor's
Shows, and King George a-going to be crowned. They was somethink
like--everybody moving like clockwork, 'cept the horses, and they did
their best. But these 'ere cannibals ain't got a notion o' keeping
step. Look at 'em! What's the good of their drums, I 'd like to know?
Why don't they tap out the left-right, as you may say, so 's they will
march proper?'
'Well, I guess they 're children of nature,' said Hoole with a smile.
'Brought up very bad, then, that's all I can say, sir. I 'm glad I 'm
not a child of nature, but of respectable parents, and uncles and aunts
the same. My old Aunt Maria, now, she was real respectable, and no
mistake. I used to go and see her when I was a nipper. Fust thing she 'd
do, she 'd wipe me nose. It ain't much of a nose--not like
Ephraim's--p'r'aps he didn't have his wiped so often, so it growed
better.... Why, save us, sir--did you hear that?'
Both the men turned round. From the rear of the procession came the cry
of a white man in mortal peril. The moonlight, striking along the leafy
avenue through which they were passing, revealed the hideously painted
faces of the Papuans, some of whom were carrying live pigs for the feast
on the shore. Again rose the startling cry. The two men, stepping among
the trees to avoid hindering the march, walked back quickly, and
presently saw, among the black faces, the pale, terrified features of
the German prisoners, whom rough hands were dragging along at the tail
of the procession. An explanation of their presence flashed upon Hoole.
Baulked of their human prey before, the cannibals had determined that
this time the custom of their tribe should be followed. The inauguration
of their chief should not pass without its human sacrifice.
'Hi, you blackguards! What about my goose?' cried Grinson, and was
rushing to the rescue when Hoole detained him.
'It's no use tackling these hobos,' said the latter. 'They 'd fly at
you like dogs. Keep pace with them; I 'll run on and talk to the
chief.'
Hoole sprinted up the line, past the Papuans, carrying food and
cooking-pots, past the drummers and the men who bore the seaplane, past
spearmen and dancers, and the retinue of patricians who followed
immediately behind Flanso. Laying a hand on the chief's arm, he
remembered that the interpreter had been left in the village, and
wondered nervously how he was to make Flanso understand. To speak in
English would be useless; he knew but a word or two of the native
language. Suddenly he remembered the chief's remote French extraction,
and the impression made on his father by Trentham's use of French.
Could that be turned to account? To explain in French what he desired
was beyond him, even if Flanso could understand a continuous speech;
what alternative was there? Perhaps if he could remember some French--a
French poem, say--and declaim it with appropriate gestures, it might
produce the moral effect which was the first necessity at the moment.
Hoole was a good elocutionist and amateur actor. Racking his memory for
things learnt at school, he could recall but one poem, a song of
Beranger's that had taken his fancy. He posted himself at the head of
the procession, and facing Flanso, spread his arms to signify that no
further advance was to be made. Impressed by his determined mien, the
natives halted. And then Hoole, raising himself to his full height,
began to recite:
'Il etait un roi d'Yvetot,
Peu connu dans l'histoire.'
Rolling the r, he pointed dramatically to the moon,
'Se levant tard, se couchant tot,
Dormant fort bien sans gloire.'
Here he shot out his right hand towards the village. The natives
gasped.
'Et couronne par Jeanneton
D'un simple bonnet de coton:
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Quel bon petit roi c'etait la!
La, la!'
He accompanied the refrain with a rhythmical clapping of hands; then,
without waiting for the mystic effect to dissipate itself, he grasped
the chief by the arm, and led him back along the halted line to the spot
where the Germans stood paralysed in the hands of their captors.
French, he feared, would hardly serve him now; but he pointed to the
prisoners, and repeated '_Pas manger; pas manger!_' in a fiercely
authoritative voice, winding up with _'En arriere!_' and pointing
towards the village, from which they had come but a quarter of a mile.
Then, stepping firmly up to the group of Papuans, he seized the arm of a
big man who clutched one of the Germans, and with a dexterous twist
forced him to relax his hold. The men snarled, but Flanso, who by this
time had apprehended what the white man was driving at, sternly ordered
the prisoners to be released.
'You must take them back, Grinson,' Hoole said. 'Their hands are tied;
I 'll fasten them to you so that they can't get away. Take them back
and hand them over to Mr. Trentham; then catch us up. Bring Lafoa back
with you.'
'Ay, ay, sir. I 'll take a spear, case of accident. And I won't be
long behind you.'
Hoole, sweating at every pore, as he afterwards said, gave an off-hand
indication of approval to Flanso, and the march was resumed.
It was a slow and wearisome journey through the forest, and Grinson,
accompanied by the interpreter, caught up the procession before it had
advanced another mile. Many times the bearers of the seaplane had to
rest; in some places trees and shrubs had to be cut down to allow its
passage, and Hoole had many an anxious moment, fearing that the wires
would be bent or broken through the carelessness of his inexperienced
carriers. But the edge of the cliff was reached without serious mishap,
and in a much shorter time than he had believed to be possible. The
route chosen by Flanso was in fact shorter by many miles than that by
which Hahn had led the party weeks before.
The covering over the top of the chimney had been removed, and Flanso
and his men nimbly climbed down one by one. Hoole allowed all to
descend except the carriers, Grinson, and the interpreter; then he set
to work to ensure the safe lowering of the machine and its detached
planes. With the interpreter's aid he got the men to make a stout
platform of saplings extending some feet beyond the edge of the cliff,
with a hole at the chimney top. The body of the machine was secured to
two stout ropes which were carried round trees. Hoole had a third rope
with a sling in which to put his feet, and this he tied firmly to a
trunk.
'Now, Grinson,' he said, 'you will be in charge here, and woe betide you
if you fail me! I 'm going to let myself down into the chimney. When I
give the word, lift the machine gently over the cliff and lower away; I
'll keep an eye on it and fend it off the rocks. That's all clear?'
'As clear as good beer, sir, and I only wish I had some, I 'm that dry.
Ephraim says there 's----'
'Oh, hang Ephraim! Stand by!'
He swung himself into the chimney and shouted 'Lower away.'
'The next ten minutes,' he told Trentham afterwards, 'were an age--an
epoch. I heard Grinson yo-hoing to the natives above; he never stopped
for a moment. How he managed to control those savages I don't know.
Down came the machine, and there was I, swinging on the rope, clinging
with one hand while I guided the machine with the other. Once it
dropped suddenly on one side, and I feared the whole caboodle would
crash to the ground; but Grinson bellowed like a hurricane, the thing
righted itself, and my heart was banging against my ribs like a steam
hammer. Well, we got the fuselage down at last; the planes were a
simpler proposition, and by and by Grinson joined me on the beach, as
proud as a peacock. "I done that in fust-rate style, sir," says he with
a broad grin. "You can bear me out, sir."'
Hoole was so much occupied in putting the machine together by the light
of the moon that he saw little of the native ceremony. There was
drumming and dancing; at one moment the chief, followed by a group of
his men, marched solemnly to the wreck, and after tramping seven times
round the broken mast, descended to the cabin. On his return he was
welcomed with a frenzied shout. Then fires were lighted under the
cooking-pots, the dance was kept up until the viands were ready, and the
feast was prolonged until the moon had travelled half-way round the sky.
Satiated, the natives flung themselves on the sand and slept.
'Well, sir,' said Grinson, sitting beside Hoole, close under the cliffs,
'all I can say is, it's a wonder to me how they could stow away so much
boiled pork without mustard or a pint of beer.'
Morning dawned. Hoole had the seaplane carried down to the sea. The
tide was rising; the sea was choppy; waves of considerable size were
breaking on the beach.
'I hope she 's seaworthy, sir,' said Grinson, eyeing the machine
anxiously.
'That we 'll soon discover,' replied Hoole. 'You know what you have to
do. When I 've pumped up and sucked in, you 'll give the propeller half
a dozen turns; then I 'll switch on, and you 'll skip away, or you 'll
get a dose like the medicine-man.'
The whole body of natives was lined up on the beach, watching the white
men with simple curiosity. Suddenly one of them gave a shout, and
pointed out to sea.
'By the powers, sir, here's the Blue Raider,' cried Grinson.
The vessel had appeared round the western horn of the bay, and was
standing in as close as possible to the shore.
'They must have seen us,' said Hoole. 'Rank bad luck! Think I 'd pass
for one of the Germans, Grinson? They 're too far off to distinguish
features.'
'You might, sir, though I 'm ashamed to say it; but what about me? I 'm
a good deal too broad in the beam.'
'But you 're half in the water. I 'll try making signs, just to keep
'em quiet, for if they 're suspicious and get their guns on to me, I 'm
a dead man, sure!'
Partly concealed by the overshadowing planes, Hoole waved his arms in
imitation of the Morse signals. From the vessel, which had now hove to,
a boat was lowered, and pulled towards the beach.
'Now, Grinson, I must cut,' said Hoole. 'I 'll start towards them; that
will diddle them, I hope; and before they make up their minds I 'm an
enemy, I guess I 'll be out of range. Ready?'
Grinson whirled the propeller; Hoole made contact and switched on, the
engine started with a roar, and the seaplane glided forward in the
direction of the approaching boat. Cries of wonder broke from the throng
of natives as the strange bird rose into the air. When clear of the
water it turned suddenly eastwards, and flew rapidly at a low altitude
along the coast. The boat stopped. A signal was fired from the vessel
in the offing. The seaplane continued on its eastward course. There was
a loud report which sent the natives scurrying to the foot of the cliff,
and a shell burst a few yards behind the seaplane. A few moments later
a shell dropped on the beach, sending up a great shower of sand and
rocks. The natives scattered, some making for the chimney, others taking
cover among the rocks and undergrowth. Grinson stood for a while with
arms akimbo at the edge of the beach, as though defying the gunners;
then a crackle of rifle fire from the boat sent him too rushing for the
chimney. He had only just reached it when a shell fell plump into the
wreck, scattering its timbers far and wide. A howl of wrath and dismay
burst from the natives, and they began to swarm up the chimney, full in
view of the occupants of the boat, but concealed from the Raider by a
bulge in the cliff. Bullets rained on the rocks, but the rolling of the
boat rendered marksmanship difficult, and only one or two of the men
suffered slight wounds as they climbed up. Grinson was the last to
leave the beach. When he reached the summit he stood for a moment or
two on the platform, gazing with a grim smile at the Raider.
'Blue you are, and well you may look it!' he cried. 'Row back, you
lubbers; such darned bad shooting I never did see, and I 'll take my
davy as your goose 'll soon be cooked. Mr. Hoole has gone to fetch the
sauce. Ahoy, ugly mugs! Wait for me! I don't want to be marooned in
this 'ere forest.'
And he set off at a trot to overtake the natives, who were already
disappearing among the trees.