Round the World in Seven Days

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER VI

  WITH GUN RUNNERS IN THE GULF

  A glance at the sodden map showed Smith that he had been driven atleast fifty miles out of his course. He could not afford time toreturn to the Euphrates: he would now have to follow the course of theTigris until it joined the larger river. It would be folly to attempta direct flight to Karachi, for in so doing he would have to pass overthe mountainous districts of Southern Persia and Baluchistan, where,if any mishap befel the aeroplane, there would be absolutely no chanceof finding assistance. Luckily the moon was rising, and by its lighthe was soon able to strike the Tigris near the spot where it flowedbetween the hills Gebel Hamrin and Gebel Mekhul into the Babylonianplain. From this point, keeping the hills well on his left, he steeredsouth-east until about midnight he came upon an immense expanse ofwater, shimmering below him in the moonlight, which he concluded to benothing else but the Persian Gulf.

  By this time he was both tired and hungry. Rodier and he had eaten afew biscuits spread with Bovril, and drunk soda-water, while theywere examining the engine, but they both felt ravenous for a goodsquare meal. Smith, however, had set his heart on completing hisflight to Karachi, where his scheme would allow an hour or two forrest and food, and he was the more determined to carry out hisprogramme, if possible, because of the delay caused by the storm.

  His plan was to keep close to the left shore of the Persian Gulf, notfollowing its indentations, but never losing sight of the sea. Thecoast, he saw by the map, made a gentle curve for some six hundredmiles, then swept southward opposite the projecting Oman peninsula,and thence ran almost due east to Karachi. The coast was for the mostpart hilly, and as he was now travelling at full speed there wasalways a risk, unless he flew high, of his being brought up by a spuror a rock jutting out into the Gulf; and as he did not wish tomaintain too great an altitude, he altered his course a point or twoto the south, flying over the sea, but not far from the shore.

  Rodier and he took turns at the engine, each dozing from sheerweariness during his spell off. They flew on all through the night,and when dawn began to break, saw straight ahead land stretching farto right and left. There was no doubt that this was the Omanpeninsula, which, jutting out from the Arabian mainland, almost closesthe Gulf. Steering now a slightly more northward course, and risingto clear the hills of the peninsula, Smith passed over the neck ofland, and found himself in the Gulf of Oman, half-way between the headof the Persian Gulf and Karachi.

  Now that it was light, there was no longer the same necessity forkeeping out to sea. Indeed, it was merely prudent to come over theland, so that if anything happened to the engine he would at leasthave an opportunity of descending safely. The engine had worked sowell that he scarcely feared a breakdown, but he was not the man totake unnecessary risks.

  Glancing at his watch, he calculated that he was about two hoursbehind time. As he had been flying at full speed except during thestorm, he could hardly hope to make up the lost time except bydiminishing the intervals for rest which he had allowed for beforestarting. It was, at any rate, important to lose no more. He had justcome to this conclusion when there was a sudden snap in the frameworkof one of the planes. Looking round anxiously, he at once reduced thespeed, feeling very thankful that the mischief had not developedduring the storm, when the aeroplane must have inevitably crumpled up.Now, however, the weather was fair, and he could choose hislanding-place. He had no doubt that the accident was due to theenormous strain which had been put upon the structure by the storm. Aglance showed him that the plane was still rigid enough to stand thestrain of motion at a lower speed, but that would neither satisfy himnor achieve success, and so he decided to alight and try to remedy thedefect.

  As he began to plane downwards, Rodier pointed to a cluster of huts atthe mouth of a small river. A dhow lay moored to a rough wooden jettybeyond the hamlet. Between it and the huts was an open space ofconsiderable extent, and though when Rodier first drew his attentionto the place they must have been more than a mile distant from it, hecould see, even without his binocular, a crowd of people moving aboutthe open space.

  "We may find a forge there," shouted Rodier.

  Smith nodded, but he felt a little uneasy. It seemed likely that hehad now reached what is known as the Mekran coast, and he rememberedthe ill reputation it bore with the officers of British ships who hadseen service in these waters. The people had been described as greedy,conceited, unwilling, and unreasonable as camels, and theirtreacherous and cruel disposition was such that, thirty or forty yearsbefore, Europeans who landed on any part of their seaboard would havedone so at great peril. Smith, however, had a vague recollection oftheir having been taught a salutary lesson by the Karwan expedition,and no doubt the presence of British war vessels in the Gulf had donesomething to correct their turbulence. He had to choose betweenfinding a landing-place inland, out of sight of the inhabitants ofthis fishing village, and landing among them on the chance of gettingthe use of a forge, for it would probably be necessary to weld thebroken stay. Deciding for the latter course, he steered straight forthe village, and, circling round it, dropped gently to earth in theopen space near the jetty.

  The aeroplane had been seen and heard some time before it reached thespot, and its flight was watched with open-mouthed curiosity by themen, who paused in their work of carrying ashore bulky packages fromthe dhow. When they saw the strange visitant from the sky descendingupon them, they gave utterance to shrill cries of alarm, dropped theirburdens, and fled in hot haste up the shore, disappearing behind thehuts. As he alighted, Smith noticed, close to the aeroplane, one ofthese packages, which had burst open in the fall, and saw withsurprise that it contained rifles.

  "I say, Roddy," he said; "this is rather unlucky. We have interrupteda gun-running."

  "Ah, no, it is lucky, mister," returned the Frenchman. "We shall notneed now to buy rifles _en route_; we can help ourselves; these arecontraband, without doubt."

  "That's true, I suspect; rifles are sure to be contraband here; butthis is a wild district, and the people won't be too well-disposedtowards us, coming and stopping their little game. We've a right toimpound the rifles, I daresay, but I really think we had better lookthe other way."

  "Wink the other eye, as you say. Well, at present there is no one tolook at. The people do not speak French, I suppose?"

  "Nor English, probably. They are Baluchis, I suppose, and perhapshaven't seen a white man before. Just look and see what's wrong withthe stay while I go up to the village and parley."

  Rodier stripped to his shirt, got his tools out of the little box inwhich they were kept, and set to work in as unconcerned andbusiness-like a way as if he had been in the workshop at home.Meanwhile Smith, puffing at a cigarette, walked slowly towards thenearest hut. His easy manner gave no sign of alertness; but in realityhe was keeping a keen look-out, and had already descried some of thenatives peeping round the walls of the huts. Having taken a few stepshe halted, looked inquiringly around, and hailed the lurking villagerswith a stentorian "Ahoy!" At first there was no response, but on hisadvancing a little farther and repeating the call two or three swarthyand dirty-looking men came slowly from behind the nearest hut. Smithnoticed the long spears they carried. He smiled and held out his hand,but the men stopped short and eyed him doubtfully, jabbering amongthemselves. He bade them good morning, inviting them to come and havea talk, but saw at once by the lack of expression on their faces thatthey did not understand him.

  Somewhat perplexed, and trying to think of signs by which he couldexplain what he wanted, he saw a different figure emerge from thebackground, a small, bent, olive-skinned old man, clad in a whiteturban and dhoti. He came forward hesitatingly.

  "Salaam, sahib," he said humbly.

  "Oh, I say, can you speak English?" asked Smith eagerly, suspectingthat the man was a Hindu.

  "Speak English very fine, sahib," replied the man, with a smile.

  "Thank goodness! Well, now, is there a smith in the village? You knowwhat I mean: a blacksmith, a man w
ho makes iron things?"

  It was not a very clear definition, but the Hindu understood him.

  "Yees, sahib," he said; "smif that way." He pointed to a hut at alittle distance.

  "That's all right. Fetch the smith along, and I'll get you to tell himwhat I want."

  "I know, sahib, I tell them. I do big trade in this place. They sillyjossers, sahib; think you a djinn."

  "Well, put that right, and hurry up, will you?"

  The Hindu salaamed and returned to the group of villagers. An excitedcolloquy ensued, the man pointing now to the Englishman, now to theaeroplane, and now to the dhow alongside the jetty. Presently theHindu came back.

  "Silly chaps say what for you come here, sahib. You know too much,they say."

  Smith guessed that they supposed his visit had something to do withthe smuggling operations in which they were engaged. He explainedquickly that he was merely an ordinary traveller, on his way to Indiain one of the new air carriages in which Englishmen were accustomed tomake long journeys, and he promised to pay the smith well for anyassistance he could give in repairing a slight injury which thecarriage had suffered in a storm. The Hindu carried this message tothe villagers, who were now increasing in number as they regainedconfidence, and after another discussion he returned, accompanied by abig man, the dirtiest in the crowd, the others following slowly.

  He found it no easy matter, through his smiling but incompetentinterpreter, to explain that he wanted the use of the smith'sappliances. To quicken their apprehension he produced a couple ofhalf-crowns, pointing out that they were worth four rupees, andoffered these as payment when the work was done. The Hindu recognizedthe King's head on the coins, and eagerly assured the Baluchis thatthey were good English money; but the smith, true to the orientalhabit of haggling, rejected them scornfully as insufficient, and wasbacked up by a chorus of indignant cries from the crowd.

  Smith, impatient at the loss of time, and forgetting that any show ofeagerness would merely encourage the natives to delay, was incautiousenough to show them a half-sovereign. Though the Hindu appeared to dohis best to persuade them that this was generous pay, they showed evengreater contempt, and became more and more clamorous.

  "Greedy chaps want more, sahib," said the Hindu deprecatingly.

  "Very well," replied Smith, pocketing the coin. "We'll do withoutthem."

  He turned his back on them, and returned at a saunter to theaeroplane, the crowd, now swelled by the arrival of apparently all theinhabitants of the village, old and young, pressing on behind. It wasevident that they had now lost their fear of the strange machine.

  "How are you getting on, Roddy?" he asked. "These asses won't takehalf-a-sovereign to lend a hand."

  "Imbeciles! But the stay must be welded."

  "Well, we'll pretend we can do without 'em. I daresay that will bringthem round."

  For a few minutes the two men made a great show of activity,completely disregarding the crowd curiously watching them. The planhad the desired effect. The Hindu came forward and said that the smithwould accept the gold piece, if he were paid in advance.

  "Not a bit of it. If he likes to help he shall have it when the workis done," replied Smith, turning to resume his interrupted work.

  The smith, now fearful of losing his customer, began to abuse theHindu for not completing the bargain. At length, with a show ofreluctance, Smith relented, and with the aid of the villagers theaeroplane was wheeled to the smithy. It proved to be very poorlyequipped, having a very primitive forge and a pair of clumsy nativebellows; but Rodier set to work to make the best of it, welding thebroken stay with the smith's help, while his employer remained outsidethe hut to keep watch over the aeroplane, which the people werebeginning to examine rather more minutely than he liked. To drive themoff, Smith set the engine working, causing a volume of smoke to belchforth in the faces of the nearest men, who ran back, holding theirnoses and crying out in alarm.

  Smith filled in the minutes by opening a tin of sardines and eatingsome of the fish sandwiched between biscuits. The sight of small fishbrought from a box struck the villagers with amazement, which wasredoubled when he removed the stopper from a soda-water bottle anddrank what appeared to be boiling liquid. Presently, however, henoticed that some of the men were quietly withdrawing towards thehuts, behind which they disappeared. Among them was the Hindu, who wasapparently summoned, and departed with a look of uneasiness. Smithwent on with his meal unconcernedly, though he was becomingsuspicious, especially when he found by-and-by that all the men hadleft him, the crowd consisting now only of women and children.

  "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 backwall of the hut.

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

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

  He noticed that the smith had now rejoined the crowd. No doubt heintended to make sure of getting his money. The mob behind the hutswas growing noisy, and Smith gave a sigh of relief when Rodier cameout with the mended stay and proceeded to fix it in place. While hedid this, Smith beckoned some of the lads forward, and made themunderstand by signs that he wished them to help him wheel theaeroplane round. The slope between it and the sea was very roughground, but it afforded space for starting off, and the moment Rodierhad finished his job he swung the aeroplane round and started theengine. The smith, looking on suspiciously, took this as a signal fordeparture and rushed forward, clamouring shrilly for the promisedpayment. Smith gave him the half-sovereign, then jumped into hisplace, Rodier running beside the machine as it moved down the slope.

  At this moment there was a shout from the village, which swelled intoa furious din as the men came rushing from behind the huts, and sawthe white men preparing to leave them. The aeroplane gathered way.Rodier was on the point of clambering into his place, as he had oftendone before, by means of the carriage supporting the wheels. But themachine jolting over the rough ground delayed him. The yelling crowdrushed down, some hurling spears, and others endeavouring to seize theFrenchman. He kept his grip on the rail, but another jolt forced himto loosen his hold, the machine suddenly sprang upwards, and Rodierfell backward among his captors.

  Smith scarcely realized what had happened until he was many feet inthe air; but seeing at a glance over his shoulder that Rodier was leftbehind, he put the helm over and warped the planes to a perilousdegree. The aeroplane was fifty or sixty yards from the starting placewhen Smith's action caused it to swerve like a wounded bird; then itrecovered itself, and turning in a narrow circle swept back towardsthe confused knot of men on the beach. Smith planed down straight uponthem, intending to land and rush to Rodier's assistance. Butperceiving that the Frenchman was struggling on the ground, with adozen turbaned figures clustering over him, he steered straight forthe middle of the group. There was a dull thud, and then another, andhe felt a harsh jolt as the chassis 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 fromdamage only by the spring attachments of the carriage.

  Drawing his revolver, Smith leapt from his seat and dashed towards thegroup. Six or eight men lay on the ground, some of them too badly hurtto rise; the rest of the crowd had taken to their heels, and the wholepopulation was in full flight, the children screaming with terror. Inan instant, to Smith's relief, Rodier sprang to his feet. Togetherthey 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 awayfrom this, mister. We are getting later and later."

  He jumped into the car; Smith again started the engine; and as themachine rose into the air it was followed by a
howl of rage from thebaffled Baluchis. Half-a-dozen slugs pattered about it, piercingseveral holes in the planes. Already one of these had been gashed by aspear, 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 thesea.

  It is one of the drawbacks of aerial travel that conversation can onlybe carried on in shouts. Smith would have liked to talk over thingswith Rodier, but the noise of the engine and the boom of the air asthe machine cut through it smothered his voice unless he bellowed.Only a few words passed between them as they flew along a littledistance out to sea. Rodier bathed two slight wounds he had receivedin the scuffle with water from the pots filled during the storm, andassured Smith that they were nothing to trouble about.

  Some few minutes after leaving the inhospitable village they noticedthe smoke of a steamer, a good deal nearer the shore than the dhowswhich they had seen occasionally on the Gulf. It was too far distantfor them to determine its size and nationality, or to guess thedirection in which it was bound. Smith decided to speak it in passing,but, observing that the stay had not been thoroughly fixed in thehurry of their departure, he looked about for a suitablelanding-place, where the finishing touches might be given. The coastwas rocky and precipitous, and the tops of the cliffs were strewn fora considerable distance inland with innumerable boulders, large andsmall, which would render landing dangerous, and starting perhaps moredangerous still. At length, however, just as he was thinking ofrunning inland, in spite of the loss of time, Rodier caught sight of alarge expanse of smooth rock, left bare by the falling tide. Hepointed it out to Smith, who made a hasty calculation of its extent,and judged that it would serve his purpose. Steering to it, he circledround it and dropped gently upon its western end, scaring off aflamingo that was sunning itself there in solitary state.

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

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

  "I made a mistake there, certainly. If anything of the kind occursagain 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 stitch of time,though."

  "'A stitch in time saves nine,'" quoted Smith, smiling a little at theFrenchman's mistake. "That's why we had better make a good job ofthis. We don't want to stop again."

  Ten minutes' work sufficed to fix the stay firmly in its place. Smithagain started the engine, the aeroplane taking the air when it wasonly half-way across the rock. They looked around for the steamer whenthey were again going at full speed, but it was no longer visible. Ina few minutes, however, the smoke again came into view, and as theyrapidly approached it Smith was delighted to see that it came from thefunnel of a small gunboat, which was steaming in the same direction astheir own flight, making probably for Bombay or Karachi. The chanceswere that such a vessel in these waters was British, so Smith steeredtowards it, shouting to Rodier that they might perhaps arrange atit-for-tat with the Baluchis.

  There was much excitement on board the gunboat when the aeroplaneplaned down and soared over it at its own pace, just high enough to beout 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 forKarachi."

  "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 forexplanations. 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, andthere's a short jetty. Sorry I can't give you latitude 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 onlike a swallow its departure was followed by a lusty British cheer.

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