“Then which one do you love?”
“Both!” said Chesty Todd, earnestly. “They’re splendid girls, Miss Dentry; your sort, you know.”
She smiled.
“Then it’s the ‘sort’ you love?” she asked.
“Yes, if you’ll allow me. Not the individual as yet. When I love the individual I hope it’ll be the right sort, but I’m so humbly unlucky I’ll probably make a mistake.”
For the first time since their acquaintance Madeline found the big boy interesting. She knew very little of the history of the Kanes and Cumberfords, but found Chesty eager to speak of them and of his past relations with them, being loud in his praise for the entire “combination.” Cumberford was an eccentric fellow, according to Mr. Radley-Todd, but “straight as a die.” Steve was chock full of ability and talent, but not very practical in business ways. Mrs. Kane, Orissa’s blind mother, was the sweetest and gentlest lady in the world, Sybil Cumberford a delightful mystery that defied fathoming but constantly allured one to the attempt, while Orissa —
“Orissa Kane is a girl you’ll have to read yourself, Miss Dentry, and the more you study her the better you’ll love her. She’s girl all over, and the kind of girl one always hopes to meet but seldom does. Old-fashioned in her gentleness, simplicity, truth and candor; up-to-the-minute in the world’s latest discovery — the art of flying. Modest as Tennyson’s dairymaid; brave as a trooper; a maid with a true maid’s heart and a thorough sport when you give her an aeroplane to manage. Excuse me. I don’t often talk this way; usually I can only express myself in writing. But a fellow who wouldn’t enthuse over Orissa Kane could only have one excuse — total dumbness.”
“I see,” said Madeline, slyly. “Miss Kane is the type of the ‘sort’ of girl you love.”
“Exactly. But tell me, since you’ve started on such an indefinite cruise, is the Salvador well provisioned?”
“From the sublime to the ridiculous! We have stores to last our party six weeks, without scrimping.”
“Good. And coal?”
“Enough for a month’s continuous run. I had intended a trip to Honolulu — perhaps as far as Japan — and had prepared for it even before I was privileged to lay eyes on my yacht.”
“How fortunate that was, for all of us! Somehow, I’ve a feeling we shall find those girls, this time. Before, I had a sort of hunch we were destined to fail. Can you explain that?”
“I shall not try.”
“We didn’t allow enough for the wind. A sudden gust might have whirled the Aircraft in any direction, and it would jog along on that route until the next blow.”
“Do you believe they are still alive?” she asked softly.
“Yes; I’ve never been able to think of them as — as — otherwise. They are wonderfully clever girls, and Orissa knows aeroplanes backwards and forwards. She’s as much at home in the air as a bird; and why shouldn’t the machine fall gently to the water, when the gasoline gave out? If it did, they can float any length of time, and the Pacific has been like a mill pond ever since they started. According to Mr. Cumberford, they have enough food with them to last for several days. I’ve an idea we shall run across them bobbing up and down on the water, as happy and contented as two babes in the wood.” The big fellow sighed as he said this, and Madeline understood he was trying to encourage himself, as well as her.
In spite of Chesty Todd’s prediction, day followed day in weary search and the lost aeroplane was not sighted. Captain and crew had now abandoned hope and performed their duties in a perfunctory way. Stephen Kane had grown thin and pale and deep lines of grief marked his boyish face. Mr. Cumberford was silent and stern. He paced the deck constantly but avoided conversation with Steve. Madeline, however, kept up bravely, and so did Chesty Todd. They were much together, these trying days, and did much to cheer one another’s spirits. Had a vote been taken, on that tenth dreary day, none but these two would have declared in favor of prolonging what now appeared to be a hopeless quest.
“You see,” said Chesty to Madeline, yet loud enough to be heard by both Cumberford and Steve, “there’s every chance of the girls having drifted to some island, where of course they’d find food in plenty; or they may have been picked up by some ship on a long voyage, and we’ll hear of ‘em from some foreign port. There are lots of ways, even on this trackless waste, of their being rescued.”
This suggestion was made to counteract the grim certainty that the castaways had by now succumbed to starvation, if they still remained afloat. Several small islands had already been encountered and closely scanned, with the idea that the girls might have sought refuge on one of them. The main thing that kept alive the spark of hope was the fact that no vestige of the Aircraft had been seen. It would float indefinitely, whether wrecked or not, for the boat had enough air-tight compartments to sustain it even in a high sea.
On the evening of this tenth day the Salvador experienced the first rough weather of the trip. The day had been sultry and oppressive and toward sundown the sky suddenly darkened and a stiff breeze caught them. By midnight it was blowing a hurricane and even the sturdy captain began to have fears for the safety of the yacht.
There was little danger to the stout craft from wind or waves, but the sea in this neighborhood was treacherous and full of those rocky islets so much dreaded by mariners. Captain Krell studied his chart constantly and kept a sharp lookout ahead; but in such a night, on a practically unknown sea, there was bound to be a certain degree of peril.
There was as little sleep for the passengers as for the crew on this eventful night. The women had been warned not to venture on deck, where it was dangerous even for the men; but Madeline Dentry would not stay below. She seemed to delight in defying the rage of the elements. Clinging to the arm of Chesty Todd, the huge bulk of whose six-feet-three stood solid as a monument, she peered through the night and followed the glare of the searchlight, now doubly useful, for it showed the pilot a clear sea ahead.
Mr. Tupper bumped into them, embraced Chesty for support and then bounded to the rail, to which he clung desperately.
“Why are you on deck?” asked Madeline, sternly. “Go below at once!”
Just then a roll of the yacht slid him across the deck, tumbled him against the poop and then carried him sprawling into the scuppers. When he recovered his breath Mr. Tupper crawled cautiously to the companion-way and disappeared into the cabin.
Steve and Mr. Cumberford had lashed themselves to the rail and in spite of the drenching spray continued to peer into the wild night with fearful intensity. Both were sick at heart, for they knew if the girls had managed to survive till now, their tiny boat would be unable to weather the storm. Every shriek of the wind, which often resembled a human cry, set them shivering with terror.
It was toward morning when the glare of the searchlight suddenly revealed a dark peak just ahead. Stephen Kane and Mr. Cumberford saw it, even as the warning scream of the lookout rang in their ears. Captain Krell saw it, and marveling at its nearness, sprang to the wheel. Madeline and Chesty saw it, too, and instinctively the big fellow put his arms around her as if to shield her.
Wild cries resounded from the deck; the bells rang frantically; the engines stopped short and then reversed just as a huge wave came from behind, caught the Salvador on its crest and swept her forward in its onward rush. Two men threw their weight upon the wheel without effect; the propeller was raised by the wave above the water line and whirred and raced madly in the air, while beneath the gleam of the searchlight a monstrous mass of rock seemed swiftly advancing to meet the fated ship.
Past the port side, where Madeline and her escort clung, swept a jagged point of rock; the yacht bumped with a force that sent everyone aboard reeling forward in a struggling heap; then it trembled, moaned despairingly and lay still, while the wave that had carried it to its doom flooded the decks with tons of water and receded to gloat over the mischief it had caused.
The searchlight was out; blackness surrounded the bruised an
d bewildered men and women who struggled to regain their feet, while in their ears echoed a chorus of terrifying shrieks not of the wind, but so evidently emanating from living creatures that they added materially to the panic of the moment.
Chesty Todd released Madeline, gasping and half drowned, from the tangle of humanity in the bow, and succeeded in getting her to the rail. The bow of the yacht was high and it lay over on one side, so that the deck was at a difficult angle.
“Are — are we sinking?” asked the girl, confused and unnerved by the calamity.
“No, indeed,” replied Chesty, his mouth to her ear. “We can’t sink, now, for we’re on solid ground and lying as still as a stuffed giraffe.”
“Oh, what shall we do?” she cried, wringing her hands. “If we are wrecked we can’t save Orissa — perhaps we can’t save ourselves! Oh, what shall we do? — what shall we do?”
The boy saw that the shock had destroyed her usual poise and he could feel her trembling as she clung to him.
“My advice,” he said quietly, “is that we all get to bed and have a wink of sleep. It has been a long and exciting day for us, hasn’t it?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ON THE BLUFF
SYBIL CLAPPED HER hands gleefully and looked at Orissa in triumph.
“The rubber is mine!” she cried. “You now owe me sixteen boxes of chocolates, nine of caramels and twelve of mixed bonbons — enough to stock a candy store. Tell you what I’ll do, Commodore Columbus; I’ll pit my desert island and my man Friday against your fleet of galleys and the favor of Queen Isabella, and it shall be the best three out of five games. Are you game, my dear Discoverer?”
Orissa laughed.
“You ought to give me odds, Crusoe, for you are the more skillful checker player,” she replied. “But I won’t play any more to-day. This heat is dreadfully oppressive and from the looks of the sky I’m afraid a storm is brewing.”
“What? A rain storm?” asked Sybil, jumping up to go outside the tent and examine the sky.
“Rain, hail, thunder, lightning and tornadoes; anything is likely to follow a storm in this latitude,” declared Orissa, following her. “I think, Sybil, we ought to make all as safe and secure as possible, in case of emergency, while we have the time.”
“What can we do?” asked Sybil. “I won’t mind the storm very much, if it doesn’t have lightning. That’s the only thing I’m afraid of.”
Orissa examined the sky critically.
“I predict high winds,” she presently said, “and high winds might endanger our property. Let us get to the beach, first, and see what may be done to protect the Aircraft.”
They found the flying-machine fairly well protected by the walls of the ravine in which it lay, but as the big upper plane offered a tempting surface to the wind Orissa set to work and removed it, a task that consumed two full hours. Then she wired the framework to a big rock for additional security, and carrying the canvas from the plane between them, the girls returned to their tent.
“Will our house stand much of a wind?” asked Sybil.
“It is rather exposed, on this bluff,” replied Orissa, doubtfully. “I think it will be wise for us to pile more rocks upon the edges. The wire will hold, I’m sure, for it is nickel-steel, and if we close the ends of the tents securely we may escape damage.”
“All right; I’m glad to have something to do,” cried Sybil, picking up a rock. “We’ll build a regular parapet, if you say so.”
This was exactly what they did. In spite of the oppressive heat the two girls worked faithfully piling the rocks around the tent, until they had raised a parapet nearly half its height. They were inspired to take this precaution by the glowering aspect of the sky, which grew more threatening as the afternoon waned.
Finally Orissa wiped the perspiration from her brow and exclaimed: “That’ll do, I’m sure, Syb. And now I’m ready for dinner. What’s to eat?”
Sybil made a grimace.
“Bananas and jelly,” she replied. “Could you conceive a more horrible combination?”
“Meat all gone?”
“We’ve part of a baked crab; that’s all.”
“And the lettuce. I shall have crab salad, with bananas for dessert.”
“A salad without lemon or vinegar is the limit,” declared Sybil. “I shall stick to bananas and jelly.”
Their appetites were still good and Orissa really enjoyed her salad, which she seasoned with salt which they had obtained by evaporating sea-water. The bananas were getting to be a trifle irksome to the palate, but as food they were nourishing and satisfying. Neither of the castaways grumbled much at the lack of ordinary food, being grateful at heart that they were able to escape starvation.
The storm burst upon them just after dark and its violence increased hour by hour. There was little rain, and no lightning at all, but the wind held high revel and fluttered the canvas of the tent so powerfully that the girls, huddled anxiously in bed, feared the frail shelter would be torn to shreds.
But the plane-cloth used by Stephen Kane was wonderfully strong and had been sized with a composition that prevented the wind from penetrating it. Therefore it resisted the gale nobly, and after a time the fears of the two girls subsided to such a degree that they dozed at times and toward morning, when the wind subsided, sank into deep sleep. The hooting of the owls no longer had power to keep them awake, and on this night the owls were less in evidence than usual, perhaps deterred from leaving their nests by the storm.
Weather changes are abrupt in the semi-tropics. The morning dawned cool and delightful and the sun shone brilliantly. There was a slight breeze remaining, but not more than enough to flutter Orissa’s locks as she unfastened the flap of the tent and walked out upon the bluff to discover if the Aircraft was still safe.
It lay at the bottom of the ravine, in plain sight from where she stood, and seemed quite undisturbed. Orissa turned her eyes toward the distant island, let them sweep the tumbling waves of the ocean and finally allowed them to rest upon the bay at the east, where they had first landed. Then she uttered an involuntary cry that echoed shrilly among the crags.
A ship lay stranded upon the shelving beach — fully half its length upon dry land!
The cry aroused Sybil, who came running from the tent rubbing her eyes and with an anxious face.
“What’s up, Ris?” she demanded.
Orissa pointed a trembling finger across the rock-strewn plain to the bay, and Sybil looked and gave a gasp of delight.
“Oh, Orissa, we’re saved — we’re saved!” she murmured. Then, sinking upon the sand, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
But the air-maid was too interested to weep; she was looking hard at the boat.
“Isn’t it Madeline Dentry’s yacht?” she asked. “Yes; I’m sure it is. Then they’ve been searching for us and the storm has wrecked them. Sybil, your father and Steve may be on that ship, alive or — or — ”
Sybil sprang up.
“Do you see anyone?” she asked eagerly.
“No; it’s too far away, and the sun interferes. I’ll get the glasses.”
She was quite composed now and her quiet demeanor did much to restore Sibyl’s self-possession. Orissa brought the binoculars, looked through them for a time and then handed the glasses to her chum.
“Not a soul in sight, that I can see,” she remarked. “Try it yourself.”
Sybil had no better luck.
“Can they all be drowned?” she inquired in horrified tones.
“I think not. They may have abandoned the wreck, during the storm, or they may be hidden from us by the side of the boat, which lies keeled over in the opposite direction from us.”
“Can’t we go there, Orissa, and find out?”
“Yes, dear; at once. The tide is out, and although there is quite a sea left from last night’s hurricane I think we can manage the trip, by way of the sands, with perfect safety.”
Each tore a couple of bananas from the bunch
and then they ran down the incline to the beach. Knowing every turn in the coast and every difficult place, they were able to scorn the waves that occasionally swept over their feet, as if longing to draw them into their moist embraces.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BOAT AHOY!
THE FIRST INDICATION of dawn found anxious faces peering over the side of the Salvador. Passengers and crew gathered at the lower angle and inspected the position of the boat with absolute amazement.
“Never, in all my experience,” said Captain Krell, “have I heard of so remarkable a wreck. We struck the only channel that would have floated us; a few yards to either side and we would have been crushed to kindling wood. As it is, we lie high and dry on this shelf — a natural dry dock — and not a timber is cracked.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Madeline.
“Quite sure, Miss Dentry. We have made a thorough investigation. But I do not wish to create any false hopes. Our condition is nearly as desperate as if we were a total wreck.”
“You mean we can’t get the yacht off again?”
“I fear not. Even a duplicate of that gigantic wave which hurled us here would be unable to float us off, for our tremendous headway carried us beyond the reach of any tide. This island is of rock formation. I know at a glance that a solid bed of rock is under us. Therefore we cannot dig a channel to relaunch the Salvador.”
“Couldn’t we blast a channel?” asked Mr. Tupper.
The captain merely gave him a reproachful glance.
“To be sure,” replied Chesty Todd, seriously. “We’ll have Kane invent a sort of dynamite that will blast the rocks and won’t hurt the ship. Good idea, Mr. Tupper. Clever, sir; very clever.”
Mr. Tupper glared at the boy resentfully, but his wife said in a mild tone of rebuke: “Really, Martin, my dear, the suggestion was idiotic.”
The steward came crawling toward them with a coffeepot, followed by a man juggling a tray of cups. It was quite an acrobatic feat to navigate the incline, but they succeeded and everyone accepted the coffee gratefully.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 557
