Round the World in Seven Days Part 8

"Nearly done, Roddy?" he called into the hut.

"Yes, mister. The smith has took his hook, though."

"All the men have gone behind the huts. I wonder what they are up to."

Rodier took up a hammer, and gently broke a hole in the flimsy back wall of the hut.

"There's a big crowd beyond the village," he reported. "Having a pow-wow, too. They've got spears and muskets."

"That looks bad. Hurry up with the stay. The sooner we get out of this the better."

He noticed that the smith had now rejoined the crowd. No doubt he intended to make sure of getting his money. The mob behind the huts was growing noisy, and Smith gave a sigh of relief when Rodier came out with the mended stay and proceeded to fix it in place. While he did this, Smith beckoned some of the lads forward, and made them understand by signs that he wished them to help him wheel the aeroplane round. The slope between it and the sea was very rough ground, but it afforded s.p.a.ce for starting off, and the moment Rodier had finished his job he swung the aeroplane round and started the engine. The smith, looking on suspiciously, took this as a signal for departure and rushed forward, clamouring shrilly for the promised payment. Smith gave him the half-sovereign, then jumped into his place, Rodier running beside the machine as it moved down the slope.

At this moment there was a shout from the village, which swelled into a furious din as the men came rus.h.i.+ng from behind the huts, and saw the white men preparing to leave them. The aeroplane gathered way.

Rodier was on the point of clambering into his place, as he had often done before, by means of the carriage supporting the wheels. But the machine jolting over the rough ground delayed him. The yelling crowd rushed down, some hurling spears, and others endeavouring to seize the Frenchman. He kept his grip on the rail, but another jolt forced him to loosen his hold, the machine suddenly sprang upwards, and Rodier fell backward among his captors.

Smith scarcely realized what had happened until he was many feet in the air; but seeing at a glance over his shoulder that Rodier was left behind, he put the helm over and warped the planes to a perilous degree. The aeroplane was fifty or sixty yards from the starting place when Smith's action caused it to swerve like a wounded bird; then it recovered itself, and turning in a narrow circle swept back towards the confused knot of men on the beach. Smith planed down straight upon them, intending to land and rush to Rodier's a.s.sistance. But perceiving that the Frenchman was struggling on the ground, with a dozen turbaned figures cl.u.s.tering over him, he steered straight for the middle of the group. There was a dull thud, and then another, and he felt a harsh jolt as the cha.s.sis struck some of the standing men.

Smith had stopped the engine when he turned, and the aeroplane, brought up by this obstruction, sank to the ground, being saved from damage only by the spring attachments of the carriage.

Drawing his revolver, Smith leapt from his seat and dashed towards the group. Six or eight men lay on the ground, some of them too badly hurt to rise; the rest of the crowd had taken to their heels, and the whole population was in full flight, the children screaming with terror. In an instant, to Smith's relief, Rodier sprang to his feet. Together they turned the machine once more towards the sea.

"Are you hurt, Roddy?" asked Smith.

"Ah, the villains! they have given me a dig or two. Let us get away from this, mister. We are getting later and later."

He jumped into the car; Smith again started the engine; and as the machine rose into the air it was followed by a howl of rage from the baffled Baluchis. Half-a-dozen slugs pattered about it, piercing several holes in the planes. Already one of these had been gashed by a spear, which still stuck in it. But no serious damage had been done, and in a few seconds the aeroplane was flying at full speed over the sea.

It is one of the drawbacks of aerial travel that conversation can only be carried on in shouts. Smith would have liked to talk over things with Rodier, but the noise of the engine and the boom of the air as the machine cut through it smothered his voice unless he bellowed.

Only a few words pa.s.sed between them as they flew along a little distance out to sea. Rodier bathed two slight wounds he had received in the scuffle with water from the pots filled during the storm, and a.s.sured Smith that they were nothing to trouble about.

Some few minutes after leaving the inhospitable village they noticed the smoke of a steamer, a good deal nearer the sh.o.r.e than the dhows which they had seen occasionally on the Gulf. It was too far distant for them to determine its size and nationality, or to guess the direction in which it was bound. Smith decided to speak it in pa.s.sing, but, observing that the stay had not been thoroughly fixed in the hurry of their departure, he looked about for a suitable landing-place, where the finis.h.i.+ng touches might be given. The coast was rocky and precipitous, and the tops of the cliffs were strewn for a considerable distance inland with innumerable boulders, large and small, which would render landing dangerous, and starting perhaps more dangerous still. At length, however, just as he was thinking of running inland, in spite of the loss of time, Rodier caught sight of a large expanse of smooth rock, left bare by the falling tide. He pointed it out to Smith, who made a hasty calculation of its extent, and judged that it would serve his purpose. Steering to it, he circled round it and dropped gently upon its western end, scaring off a flamingo that was sunning itself there in solitary state.

"We came well out of that, Roddy," he said, as they set to work on the stay.

"But we lose time by all these stops, mister," replied Rodier. "We can perhaps make it up if you keep your gold in your pocket."

"I made a mistake there, certainly. If anything of the kind occurs again our motto must be 'take it or leave it.'"

"Just as you say to a cabby."

"You are sure you are not hurt much?"

"No more than with a cat's scratches. You came in the st.i.tch of time, though."

"'A st.i.tch in time saves nine,'" quoted Smith, smiling a little at the Frenchman's mistake. "That's why we had better make a good job of this. We don't want to stop again."

Ten minutes' work sufficed to fix the stay firmly in its place. Smith again started the engine, the aeroplane taking the air when it was only half-way across the rock. They looked around for the steamer when they were again going at full speed, but it was no longer visible. In a few minutes, however, the smoke again came into view, and as they rapidly approached it Smith was delighted to see that it came from the funnel of a small gunboat, which was steaming in the same direction as their own flight, making probably for Bombay or Karachi. The chances were that such a vessel in these waters was British, so Smith steered towards it, shouting to Rodier that they might perhaps arrange a t.i.t-for-tat with the Baluchis.

There was much excitement on board the gunboat when the aeroplane planed down and soared over it at its own pace, just high enough to be out of reach of sparks from the funnel.

"Who are you?" shouted Smith through a megaphone.

"Gunboat _Penguin_, Captain Durward, bound for Bombay. Who are you?"

came the answer.

"Lieutenant Thesiger Smith, of the _Imperturbable,_ bound for Karachi."

"The deuce you are! What do you call that vessel of yours?"

"My pet lamb," replied Smith, grinning. "I say, sir, I've no time for explanations. Are you policing these seas?"

"This is my beat. Why?"

"Some Baluchis are gun-running fifty miles up the coast, that's all.

Thought you'd like to know."

"Are they, begad! Thanks for the tip. Can you describe the spot?"

"A tiny village lying behind a point. A river runs through it, and there's a short jetty. Sorry I can't give you lat.i.tude and longitude.

You'll catch 'em if you hurry up. Hope you will, and--run 'em in.

Good-bye."

He set the engine at full speed again, and as the aeroplane soared on like a swallow its departure was followed by a l.u.s.ty British cheer.

"Three hours late, mister," Rodier bawled in Smith's ear.

CHAPTER VII

THE WHITE DJINN

It was half-past six by Smith's watch, near eleven by local time, when the aeroplane sailed across the long mangrove swamp that forms the western side of the harbour of Karachi. The sun was intensely fierce, and Smith, who found its glare affecting his eyes painfully, had donned a pair of huge blue-gla.s.s goggles. He was glad that he had done so when, pa.s.sing over the crowded s.h.i.+pping of the port, he saw the sandy arid tracts around and beyond the town. Steamers hooted as the aeroplane flew above them; half-naked coolies lading the vessels with wheat and cotton, the produce of Sindh and the Punjab, dropped their loads and stared upwards in stupefied amazement. Smith could not wait to enjoy his first view of an Indian city. His business was to land at the first convenient place and find Mr. John Jenkinson, whose G.o.down was near the Custom House, and obtain from him the petrol bespoken by Mr. Barracombe.

Being in complete ignorance where the Custom House lay, though he guessed it would be somewhere near the seafront, he was at first at a loss in which direction to make. There was no suitable landing-place in the crowded city itself, and to the immediate south of it there appeared to be nothing but mangrove swamps. Ascending to a considerable height, however, he saw, some distance to the east, near a railway line, a stretch of open brownish ground on which little red flags stood up at intervals. He instantly jumped to the conclusion that this was the golf course, though at this time of day there were no players to confirm his judgment. This was an advantage, because it promised that he might land without being beset by curious spectators.

Accordingly he steered in that direction, hoping that having safely landed his aeroplane he might find some means of reaching the merchant whose name Mr. Barracombe had cabled to him.

It happened that, just as the aeroplane swooped down upon the golf course, an open vehicle like a victoria was driving slowly along a road that crossed it from the railway towards the city. The turbaned driver pulled up his horse and stared open-mouthed at this extraordinary apparition from the sky, and when the aeroplane alighted, and from the car stepped a tall, dirty creature with a monstrously ugly face, the native whipped up his horse and with shrill cries sought to escape the clutches of what he felt in his trembling soul must be a djinn of the most evil kind.

Smith shouted to him to stop, but in vain; whereupon he picked up his heels and ran to overtake the carriage. The horse was a sorry specimen, and Smith, being a very pa.s.sable sprinter, soon came up with it, jumped in, and called to the driver to take him to Mr. Jenkinson's G.o.down. The man yelled with fear, and in sheer panic flogged his horse until it went at a gallop, the vehicle swaying in a manner that any one but a sailor would have found unpleasant. Both horse and driver seemed to be equally affected with terror, but since the carriage was going towards the city Smith was perfectly well satisfied, and did not turn a hair even when it narrowly escaped a collision with a bullock-wagon.

On they went, past some buildings on the right which appeared to be barracks, until they reached a street in which there were so many people that Smith thought it time to pull up before mischief was done.

Leaning forward, he gripped the driver's dhoti and drew him slowly backward. The man yelled again; the pa.s.sers-by stood in wonderment; but with his backward movement the driver tightened his grip on the reins, and within a few yards the panting horse came to a standstill.

"Where is Mr. Jenkinson's G.o.down?" said Smith, releasing the driver.

But the man's terror was too much for him. Throwing the reins on the horse's back, he sprang from his seat and fled, a vision of bare brown legs twinkling amid white cotton drapery.