The huge machine settled quietly down and alighted fairly upon the deck. One rail caught the lower plane and tipped it, but the girl leaped lightly from her seat and was caught by Mr. Cumberford, whose gray eyes sparkled with joy from behind their spectacles.
You may be sure the brave girl received a glad welcome, but as soon as her safety was assured she was deluged with questions. The ping of a rifle ball warned them to scuttle below to the cabin, where Orissa tried to explain.
“Why on earth did you venture to come back?” demanded Madeline. “We had told ourselves that you, at least, were safe from the dangers that menace us, and it pleased us to know that. But where is your brother?”
“Did you get to land?” cried half a dozen voices, eagerly. “What did you do? Tell us!”
Orissa laughed and held up both hands, imploring silence.
“I came to bring you good news,” she began. “And now that you are assured of that, please let me tell the story my own way, or I shall bungle it.”
“Go ahead,” they answered and settled themselves to listen.
“We followed the route Captain Krell had mapped out for us,” said Orissa, “and in four hours after leaving here we sighted the Mexican coast. Fifteen minutes’ run to the north brought us to the village of San Bias, where there is a telegraph office. We landed and had some difficulty in satisfying the authorities that we were harmless Americans, but finally they agreed to escort us to the telegraph office under guard. We wired our story direct to President Madero, putting it as briefly as possible and asking him for a warship to rescue our friends and capture Ramon Ganza. There was no answer until evening, when we received a message from the Secretary of the Navy saying he had conferred with the President and Secretary of State and would be glad to accede to our request. In eight or ten days he thought he could spare a warship to go to the island for Ganza. Unfortunately, the entire navy was in use at the present time.
“That dashed our hopes, you may be sure, for we feared you couldn’t hold Ganza at bay for so long; so Steve and I determined to fly to San Diego and secure help there.
The Secretary of the Navy had wired the authorities of San Bias to afford us every consideration and hospitality, so we filled our tanks with gasoline and slept at a little inn until daybreak. Then we were off for the north, and in two hours met the United States torpedo fleet, on its way to Magdalena Bay for target practice. We made out the flagship and dropped to the water beside it. Commodore Davis at once laid to and sent a boat to us. Steve went aboard and explained fully to the Commodore our story and the need for immediate help. As a result the Mermaid was signaled and its captain presently came aboard and received his orders. He was to take us directly to this island, drive off Ganza or fight him, as circumstances might require, and then assist in getting the Salvador afloat again. If he captures Ganza he is to carry him away a prisoner and turn him and his men over to the Mexican authorities at Magdalena.
“Captain Swanson undertook the adventure gladly and is now on his way here with the Mermaid, with Steve to guide him. My brother and I thought it best for me to come on ahead and tell you the good news, for we have worried about you and knew that with rescue at hand you would have courage to hold out, no matter how desperate your condition. So here I am, and the Mermaid will arrive either to-night or early in the morning.”
They were indeed delighted with this assurance and it put new heart into the most timorous of those aboard.
“However,” said Chesty Todd, “we seem to be in no danger, just now, and since our clever enemy has failed to scare us into surrender he has remained quiet and behaved himself as well as could be expected.”
They told Orissa all that had transpired in her absence and the conversation continued all during the dinner — on which the chef exercised his best talents, in honor of Orissa’s return — and even until bedtime, there was so much to say.
Chesty went on watch at eleven o’clock, and as he leaned silently over the rail at a point near the bow of the launch he detected a series of queer sounds coming from below. This part of the yacht was high on the shelving beach and it was here that they had arranged huge piles of rock, on either side, to hold the keel level. It sounded to Mr. Todd as if some one was at work near these rocks, for on account of the swell of the boat’s side it was impossible to see, from the deck, anyone below, in case he kept close to the keel.
So Chesty crept aft, held a whispered conversation with Captain Krell, and quickly divested himself of his clothing. At the stern, which was settled quite close to the surface of the water, the boy let himself down by means of a rope, descending hand under hand, and silently dropped into the dark water. Swimming was one of Radley-Todd’s principal accomplishments and he scarcely made a ripple as he crept alongside the boat until the bow came into full view. The night was somewhat darker than usual, but the American had sharp eyes and it did not take him long to discover that the besiegers were employed in removing the rocks from the right hand side of the keel.
Instantly comprehending their purpose in this, Chesty turned and quickly regained the stern, climbing to the deck. His report to Captain Krell seemed so serious, because it meant a desperate attack presently, that it was promptly decided to arouse the entire party and warn them that a crisis was at hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
FACING THE CRISIS
CONSTERNATION REIGNED IN the cabin when the principals assembled there with white and startled faces. On deck Captain Krell was instructing his men how to act in the threatened emergency. Pietro was among them, accepting his rifle and his instructions willingly, but shaking his head at what he considered a vain attempt to resist Ramon Ganza.
“Ramon great man!” he said to Captain Krell. “Ramon always win; nobody can conquer him. I knew Ramon would win this time, an’ when he does he will capture me an’ whip me hard. All right; I know I am to be whipped at the time Chica tell me to leave Ramon. Never min’. Pietro can stand it, for others have been whipped by Ramon an’ lived — with marks like a zebra’s on their skins.”
In the cabin Chesty was trying to explain the situation.
“It’s this way,” he said; “when the rocks are all removed the yacht will fall over on her side, as she was at first, with the rail quite near to the water. You remember how she lay before we propped her up. Well, that means we have no secure footing on deck and that the pirates can easily climb aboard and have the best of the argument. If we slip, we fall into their arms; if we stick to the deck — like flies to a ceiling, they’ll rush and get us.”
“We can’t fight from the deck,” declared Cumberford. “Tell Captain Krell to come here.”
The captain arrived and after a consultation it was decided to gather all hands in the cabin and fortify it as strongly as possible. The roof projected a few feet above the deck and there was a row of small windows on either side, but these were supplied with heavy shutters designed for use in case of storms, when the shutters were readily fixed in place. The stairway might be well guarded by one man, and above the windows were small ventilators through which several rifles could be pointed. By standing upon the cabin table the defenders could command the deck in this way. They were instructed not to shoot, however, unless absolutely obliged to. All the hatches were battened down, so that if Ganza gained the deck he could not get below and was welcome to remain aboard until the rescuers arrived.
Orissa, who had listened silently, now approached Mr. Cumberford and said:
“When the yacht tips, our Aircraft will be ruined, for the chances are it will slide overboard. Even if it doesn’t, those scoundrels will wreck it completely, for it will be quite at their mercy. So I’ve decided, while there is yet time, to fly it across to the bluff, where I can remain until you are rescued.”
“Can you manage to get away from the deck?”
“Easily.”
“Then I think it best for you to go.”
“May I take Sybil with me?”
He hesitated a moment; t
hen replied: “Yes. It will be a good thing to have you girls away from here when the attack is made. Here you could be of no service whatever, and your absence will — eh — give us more room to defend the cabin.”
“You will have to act quickly, Miss Kane,” suggested Chesty.
“I know. Come, Sybil.”
They drew on their jackets as they went on deck, both girls realizing that no time must be lost if they hoped to get away. Once the yacht tipped on her side it would be impossible to fly the machine.
As they took their places Mr. Radley-Todd inquired: “Plenty of gasoline?”
“I think so,” said Orissa. “I’m not sure how much is left in the tanks, but it ought to be enough to get us to the bluff. Whirl the propeller, Chesty.”
He did so, and the engine started with a roar. Cumberford and Chesty steadied the Aircraft until the motor had acquired full speed and then Orissa threw in the clutch and the big aeroplane rose as easily as a bird takes flight and ascended into the starlit sky at a steep angle. This feat is what is called “cloud climbing” and Orissa understood it perfectly.
It seemed a bold thing to undertake such a flight in the night-time, but the Flying Girl’s friends had so much confidence in her skill that they never considered the danger of the undertaking. Across the barren island to the bluff was so unimportant a flight to one of Orissa’s experience that when she was once away they believed her quite safe.
While the men stood watching the Aircraft mount into the dim sky the yacht suddenly trembled and keeled over, throwing them all flat upon the deck. With one accord they scrambled up and dashed into the cabin, which they reached just as Ramon Ganza and his men swarmed over the rail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE PRISONER
WHAT’S WRONG, RIS?” asked Sybil, as the engine skipped and wavered.
“Gasoline,” was the brief answer.
“Oh. Can you get to the bluff?”
“I — don’t — know. There!” as the propeller ceased to whirl; “now I’ll volplane. It’s a long reach, Syb; but we’ll land somewhere — right side up.”
The dim mountain seemed far ahead of them; below was the “dip,” or valley, which lay between the rock ridges and the mountain. As they had casually glanced toward it in former times, it seemed a forbidding place, slimy and moist, devoid alike of any green thing or living creature. Even the owls shunned the “dip.”
To-night, when everything was obscure, they seemed gliding into a black pit. Orissa had to manipulate her levers cautiously, for she could not tell just when they would reach the ground. As it was they bumped, bounded forward, bumped again and brought up suddenly between two boulders that topped a rugged knoll.
“Any damage?” asked Sybil, catching her breath.
“Not much, I’m sure,” replied her chum. “But here we are; and here we’ll stay until some one comes with gasoline. Can you see anything, Syb?”
“The mountain, over there against the sky. It seems so near I could almost touch it. It wouldn’t have taken but a few drops more to have landed us on the bluff, drat the luck!”
“See anything else?”
“Where?”
“Around us.”
“No; but I can smell something. Smells like spoiled gasoline. Does gasoline ever spoil, Ris?”
“Not to my knowledge. But come; let’s crawl into the boat and get the blankets out. Wherever we are, it’s our hotel, and we must make the best of it.”
Skyward, there could be distinguished the mountain at the west and the rock hills at the east; but the pocket in which they lay was black as ink. From the boat Orissa managed to open the aluminum chest and take out the blankets. They then arranged a temporary bed in the bottom of the boat and covered themselves up.
“Anyhow, I managed to save the Aircraft,” sighed Orissa, contentedly. Then she sat bolt upright and cried: “Listen!”
“The battle’s on,” answered Sybil, as a succession of wild shouts reached their ears. It was very aggravating to be so ignorant of what was happening to their friends. The shouts continued, at intervals, but there was no sound of firearms. Evidently the Mexicans had gained the deck but had found it a barren victory. On the mountain the owls were hooting and flying about as usual, but the shouts that had come from the bay were of such a different nature that the shrieks of the night-birds did not drown them.
Suddenly a broad streak of light shot over them, rested a moment on the mountain, swayed to right and left and then sank below the ridges of rock. Above the bay where the Salvador was beached thin shafts of white light radiated, illuminating the sky like an aurora borealis.
“A searchlight!”
“The torpedo boat!” the girls cried in one breath; and then they sat trembling and straining their ears to listen.
A dull, angry “boom!” rent the air and echoed from the mountain. It was a warning gun from the Mermaid. The shouts became screams of fear. Then silence followed, complete and enduring.
Orissa breathed heavily. “It’s all over, Sybil!” she gasped.
“I — I wonder if — anyone was — hurt.”
“Any of our people?”
“Of course.”
“I think not. That gun was merely a signal and I imagine the Mexicans ran like rats. How fortunate it was that Captain Swanson arrived with the Mermaid so soon!”
“How unfortunate he didn’t come sooner. We wouldn’t have been in this awkward predicament. It will take them hours to get to us over those sharp rocks.”
Orissa did not reply. She was trying to understand the events transpiring around the Salvador. Had there been a tragedy? Or had the torpedo boat merely frightened the outlaws, as she had imagined, and driven them away?
There was no sleep for the isolated girls during the brief hours preceding the dawn. As it gradually lightened they peered about them to see where they were, and by degrees made out their surroundings. There were fewer rocks in this cup-shaped hollow than in other parts of the island. On the knoll where the Aircraft rested were the two big rocks which had arrested its progress, and between these the body of the aluminum boat was tightly wedged. At intervals throughout the valley were similar rocky hummocks, but all the space between consisted of an oozy, damp soil of a greenish-brown color, with glints of red where the sun caught it prismatically. Looking at this ooze critically, as the light strengthened, it seemed to the girls to shift somewhat, showing here and there a thick bubble which slowly formed and disappeared.
Orissa put her hand over the side of the boat and withdrew it again.
“Look, Sybil,” she exclaimed. “It’s oil.”
“Hair or salad oil, Ris?”
Orissa sniffed at her dipped finger.
“Petroleum. This is the crude article, and seeps up from some store of oil far down in the earth. There would be a fortune in this find, Syb, if it happened to be in America. Out here it is, of course, valueless.”
“Don’t they make kerosene and gasoline of it?”
“Yes; of course.”
“Then make some gasoline and let’s fly away.”
Orissa laughed.
“If you will furnish the distillery, Syb, I’ll make the gasoline,” she said; “but I believe it’s a long, slow process, and — ”
“Look!” cried Sybil, with a start, as she pointed a slim finger toward the east. From a far distant ridge a man came bounding over the rocks, leaping from one to another with little hesitation in picking his way. He was a big man, but as the light was still dim they could see no more than his huge form. Presently he paused to look behind him; then on he dashed again. He had come from the direction of the bay and was at first headed toward the mountain, but in one of his pauses, whether to regain his breath or look behind, he caught sight of the aeroplane and at once turned directly toward it.
“Do you think,” asked Sybil, uneasily, “it is one of our people come to look for us?”
“No,” returned Orissa, positively. “That man is a fugitive. He has escaped over
the rock hills and is trying to find some hiding place.”
“Then I wonder he dares come in our direction.”
“It is strange,” agreed Orissa, with a shudder as she remembered how helpless they were.
Then, with fascinated gaze, the two girls fell silent and watched the approaching fugitive. As he neared that part of the valley where the oil seeped up he proceeded more cautiously, leaping from one point of rock — or hummock — to another. Once, when forced to step on the level ground, the oil tripped him. He slipped and fell, but was instantly up again and bounding on his way. It seemed no easy task to make speed over such a rough and trackless way, yet here it was easier to proceed than back in those almost impassable hills. It was wonderful that he had succeeded in crossing them at all.
“I think,” said Orissa, as she sat cold and staring, “it is Ramon Ganza.”
“The outlaw? But he wears white flannels.”
“Not now. He probably changed them for the night attack; but I can see the rings glitter on his fingers, and — none of the other Mexicans is so big.”
Sybil nestled a little closer to her friend.
“Have you a revolver, Ris?”
Orissa shook her head.
“No arms at all — not even a hatpin?”
“Nothing whatever to use for defense.”
The man was quite near now. Yes; it was Ramon Ganza. His clothes were torn by the rocks and hung around him in rags, and where he had fallen the thick, slimy oil clung to them. His face was smeared with dust and grime and the whole aspect of the outlaw was ghastly and repulsive — perhaps rendered more acute by the jewelled rings that loaded his fingers.
He was obliged to step with more care as he neared the aeroplane, in which crouched the two girls, and finally he came to a halt on a hummock a few paces away. The oil lay more thickly around the Aircraft than elsewhere, and Ramon Ganza eyed it suspiciously. Then he spoke, resting his hands on his hips and leering insolently at Sybil and Orissa.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 565
