The compass course he had laid was almost S.E. by S. His first alarming discovery was that his compass would be of almost no use. The vibration3 of the frame and the constant alteration4 of his level in ascending6 and descending7 so agitated8 the needle that it was always in motion.
“That ain’t goin’ to stop me,” he said at once. “There’s land everywhere over there to the southeast. I’ll hit something somewhere sometime.”
Laying a general course by the sun, he veered9 to the southeast. The moment he passed out over the ocean, the air changed. The movement of it was less regular, and Andy knew it[172] was due to the counter-current of cooler water sent southward by the northward-flowing gulf10 stream. Steadying the car, he began to ascend5. At a thousand feet, the lower eddies11 disappeared, and he felt the steady southwest breeze reasserting itself.
Taking advantage of this, as a ship tacks12, he steadied the car again. Up to that moment every second had been one of activity; both hands had been busy, and every sense was alert. As the aeroplane now fell into a long, almost motionless glide—with nothing to mark its progress but the whistling wind—for the water beneath gave him no measure of flight—the boy discovered that his muscles were already partly numb13 from the strain.
As best he could, he relaxed his tension—exercised his feet, legs, fingers, and arms. But the attempt to relax his arms brought his second big discovery—when soaring on an even keel at high speed, the slightest movement of the rudder may instantly cost many minutes of hard climbing upward.
Attempting to steady the control lever with his left hand, there was a slight pull to the left and back. As the responsive ship answered her double helm and veered to the left and[173] down, Andy thrust the lever back, changed hands, and his benumbed fingers for a moment refused to act.
Shaking itself, under the conflicting movements, the Pelican14 wavered and then leaped to the right and down. Aghast, the nervous boy saw the sea—the shore already out of sight—apparently rising to meet and grasp him. Paralyzed for a moment, Andy gave instant proof that he was a born aviator15.
Withdrawing his eyes from the sea and bringing all his will power to stamp out his sudden panic, he did two things with hardly the operation of thinking. Setting his teeth and forcing his eyes on the stanchion at his side to get his line, with both hands—and as carefully as if he had minutes for the work—he brought the control lever to a vertical16 position, and at right angles with the beam to which it was attached.
His intuition told him he could do no more. And it was enough. With a long, gliding17, downward sweep the car sped on and at last began to move forward on an even keel. His eyes yet fixed18 on the lever only, he gradually drew it vertically19 toward him, and, when the check in the forward speed told him he was[174] ascending again, looked below. He was not over three hundred feet from the almost waveless sea, and he had dashed downward seven hundred feet.
“I understand now what they mean when they kick about long flights,” said the boy to himself. “It ain’t the nerves—it’s the muscles. You’ve just kind o’ got to hold this thing on its course—anyway she ain’t goin’ to run herself.”
When he figured himself to be about a thousand feet in the air, once more Andy looked at his watch. It was 1:30 o’clock. He had been gone twenty-two minutes. He almost groaned20. Osborne had estimated the maximum speed of the Pelican at forty-two miles an hour. He was surely going at his best; he was already tired, and since he had not covered quite fifteen miles, he had the hardest part of his voyage before him.
Since there was no relief, he must stand it, and he did. He now kept the aeroplane at the thousand-foot level, as nearly as he could estimate it. The engine never wavered, and finally he was able to ignore it. The boy’s eyes grew hot and began to pain him, and he was no longer conscious of power to move his right[175] hand, when—and the slowly-creeping minutes seemed endless—at 2:51 o’clock he caught sight of a thin white line on the horizon.
The boy knew at once that this must be land. Whether or not it was the land he had started for—the Grande Banks—made no difference. Confidence returned with the knowledge that he had a goal to aim for, and in that assurance he took his first moments to reason. He had done a foolhardy thing, and now he meant to bring his perilous21 flight to an end as soon as possible.
What the place might be he neither knew nor cared; his wind-swept eyes burning and his spent muscles rigid22, he was conscious only of the line of white. As it rose and widened, he hardly knew how or when he altered the course of the plane. But at last, with an effort that he was fearful he could not make—when the white rolled out beneath him—he shut off the engine. At 3:35 P.M., the rubber landing wheels were bounding over the glaring white of a shell-strewn beach.
The exhausted23 boy still sat in his seat, motionless, his head on his breast and his fingers yet grasping the idle lever. He had carried out his great idea, reached the Bahamas in an aeroplane, but with nothing to spare.
[176]
Until Andy was able to get the numbness24 out of his limbs, he gave no thought to his surroundings. At last, creeping stiffly from the machine, he found that he had achieved his ambition: the smooth, wide beach, chalk-white from minute shells, the softly surging sea shaded into all colors of blue by shallow bars and outlying keys, the distant ridge25 of green through which, here and there, palms rose and spread their umbrella-like foliage26, all told him that he was at last in the tropics. But where?
When he could, he made his way to the water’s edge. A star-fish lay at his feet. He grasped it as another boy might have caught up a nugget of gold. Then another object rolled in on the swell27. At the first sight of it, the boy smiled. Then the smile disappeared, and he sprang forward and secured the floating object. It was an opened tin that had contained English orange marmalade.
“From some passing steamer,” thought Andy. Then he saw that the label on the can was not yet loosened by the water. “It hasn’t been floatin’ long, though,” he added. “Looks as if some Englishman isn’t far away.”
Ahead of him the beach curved into what seemed to be a bay. The Pelican was high[177] above the water, and there was no living thing in sight that might molest28 it. Glad of an opportunity to get some exercise, Andy began trotting29 along the beach. Far to the south, beyond a belt of reefs and smaller keys, he could just make out other lines of white,—other islands, no doubt, but nowhere was there a sail in sight.
“But I guess there’s someone nearby, and an Englishman at that,” speculated Andy. “Since he isn’t in sight, he must be in the cove2 behind the point.”
When the boy reached the turn in the shore, he was astounded30 to see just the opposite of the solitude31 in which he had alighted. At the bottom of the bay, where a group of cocoa palms hung almost over the water, the sight of a thatched hut met his eye. In front of it, and anchored several hundred yards out in the cove, was a trim schooner32, her sails furled and a white awning33 covering her deck. Here and there over the wide bay were small boats, in each of which he could see two and sometimes three black men, naked to the waist.
“They’re divin’ for sponges or tongin’ ’em,” said Andy to himself as the old geography pictures came into his mind. Before[178] he could feast his eyes further with the picture-like scene, he was startled to hear a voice. At the same moment a white man, in white duck and a Panama hat, stepped from the shade of the palms lining34 the beach.
“How’d do?” exclaimed the man in a decided35 English accent. “Did you just alight in an aeroplane?”
“You saw me?” exclaimed Andy.
“I was on my schooner and watched you for a long time with the glass. Come across from Florida?”
“Yes,” answered the boy. “What place is this?”
“One of the Grande Banks,” replied the stranger, “generally speaking. To be precise, you have your choice of several local names. Mine, for this, is Palm Tree Cove, I believe.”
“My name is Leighton—Andrew Leighton. I thought I’d try it to see if I could. Now, I’ve got to get word to my folks that I’m all right, and get back.”
Meanwhile the Englishman had shaken Andy’s hand.
“That’s not so easy,” he answered, laughing. “The place is uninhabited; it’s off the steamer route. I don’t belong here; we’re[179] prospecting36 the pearl and sponge bottoms. I’m from Andros. We’ll be leaving in a day or so. You can go with us. I’ll send you to Nassau, or send word for you—you can cable.”
“You live on Andros Island?”
“I have fruit lands there and sisal.”
“I’m sure I’m obliged,” began Andy. “It’s good of you. I haven’t any money.”
The man laughed.
“I shall be delighted to have you as my guest,” he said, still smiling. “And if you are in a hurry, I’ll take you over to-night.”
“I’m not in a hurry to leave this,” began Andy, sweeping37 his arm about to include the cameo-like bay. “But you can understand: I hadn’t permission to come, and, if I had, I suppose my parents would be worrying until they heard from me.”
“Not unlikely,” said the man in white. “I think you ought to go at once, or send word. Any little excitement of this kind is enjoyable. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look at your flying machine—I’ve never seen one, as you can imagine. I rarely go even to Nassau—lived on Andros twenty years.”
Glad to act as showman, Andy led his new friend back along the beach to the Pelican. In[180] the short trip he related how he came to be in possession of the aeroplane, how it was made, and finally he told of his parents, his late uncle, and of Captain Anderson. Reaching the car he explained it in detail, and then while the Englishman stood back as if to feast his eyes on the wonder, Andy said:
“If you don’t mind, I’ll have a bite of lunch and a drink.”
As if embarrassed, the stranger raised his hand.
“Excuse me, my boy—I might have known. Can’t you postpone38 your refreshment39 until we can reach my schooner?”
Andy thought a moment.
“I don’t like to leave the machine here—I think I’ll make a little flight and take it around in the cove.”
“Excellent,” agreed the man. “I’ll be proud,” he went on, with a smile and bowing, “to be host to both the aeroplane and the aviator. And I’ll watch—”
A mischievous40 look came into Andy’s eyes. Some distance ahead of him the hard beach reached back over a gentle incline that made its way like a wide road between the fence-like cocoas.
[181]
“I’ll have to get the car up there,” he said, “to get up momentum41. Do you mind giving me a hand?”
“Delighted, I’m sure,” answered the fruit grower. “It will probably be my first and last experience with such a vehicle.”
Andy’s twinkle spread into a smile. When the Pelican had been pushed to the top of the slope and was ready for a new flight, he crawled to his seat. The white-costumed man was backing away, watching every detail. As soon as he was seated, Andy loosened the cords holding the tin of gasoline on the extra seat and asked his affable host if he would put it aside where he might get it later.
“I’d think you’d carry it with you,” suggested the stranger, as he obligingly complied.
“I would,” answered Andy, “but I want the seat. Jump in.”
“Me?” exclaimed the man. “On that?”
“I just crossed the gulf stream, a thousand feet up,” answered the boy.
“I—I didn’t know it would carry two,” began the man, who seemed more surprised than alarmed.
“It has,” answered the boy. “Come on.”
The surprise of the man turned instantly[182] into open delight. He crawled into the seat, and almost before he was settled, the proud and now confident Andy had shot his pride and joy seaward, skimmed one low roller, and was mounting skyward as if the machine were elated over its extra burden.
It was not over a mile to the head of the cove and the cabin beneath the palms, but the conditions made a direct flight thither42 impossible. Assured of his ability to control the powerful machine, Andy sent her mounting up and up in a long spiral.
“Delightful!” said the man at his side at last. “I’m charmed.”
To the boy’s surprise, there was no trace of nervousness nor fear in his passenger’s voice.
“I think we’re nearly one thousand two hundred feet high now,” said Andy.
“I think so, or more,” was the passenger’s answer. “Can you look about? The view is superb.” The aeroplane, which had risen in circles above the cove, now commanded a wide view of white-margined islands, reefs, and channels. “Far over there to the left,” went on the Englishman, “although you can scarcely see it, is a bit of rock with a strange history. It is known as Timbado Key.”
“Jump In,” Said Andy.
There was a slight lurch43 of the car, and the passenger started.
“Anything wrong?” he exclaimed.
“Nothing,” answered Andy. “I was trying to look. But this Timbado?”
“It’s a story,” answered his companion—“one that has never been written. I’ll tell it you this evening.”
Instantly, and for the first time since he had landed, the tragic44 tale of Ba, the colored man, rushed into Andy’s thoughts. Startled by his unexpected proximity45 to the scene of Ba’s horrible experience, his hand had moved and the machine had wavered. Then, as the fragmentary story came back to him, he recalled this important detail of it—the man who had sent the simple, half savage46 Ba to steal the great pink pearl was “an English captain who lived on Andros Island.”
“Thank you,” answered the boy at last. “I’ll be glad to hear it, Mr.—”
“Pardon me,” said the man instantly; “didn’t I mention my name? I am Captain Monckton Bassett.”
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1
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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tacks
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| 大头钉( tack的名词复数 )； 平头钉； 航向； 方法 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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pelican
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| n.鹈鹕，伽蓝鸟 | |
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aviator
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| n.飞行家，飞行员 | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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28
molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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prospecting
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| n.探矿 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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42
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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