Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “How can we escape?” asked Allerton.

  “Can you not fly away, as you came?” she returned, as if surprised.

  “Not without our flying clothes,” he said. “They were taken from us when first we arrived.”

  “But they are here,” she exclaimed. “I had them brought to me so I might examine them, and discover the secret of their use. But it was too puzzling; I was stupid and did not understand.”

  We listened to her with hearts beating high with hope for the first time.

  “What do you mean by ‘here’? Where are these flying-clothes, Ama?” inquired Paul in a voice that trembled in spite of his effort to control it.

  She reflected a moment.

  “They were put in my wardrobe room. Come; I will show you.”

  We all followed her through the gorgeous suite, extensive and magnificent enough for any queen, and at the end of a passage came to the room she had described. The gas-jackets were piled neatly upon a shelf, and with them were the cases containing the themlyne crystals.

  I’m almost sure that was the happiest moment of my life. I felt like kissing everybody all around — even including Ama and her maidens. But none of us did anything so foolish, and we accepted our good fortune like philosophers.

  When we had carried the treasure back into the big reception room I noticed that Paul sat in a corner with Ama and held a lengthy conversation with her. He also held her hand, even though she needed no support at that time. Chaka gazed silently from the window, and thinking that perhaps the interview was of a personal nature we none of us interrupted the conversation, although after an hour or so the wait began to be tedious.

  They finally came to us, however, hand in hand, and both their faces were radiant with bliss.

  “Ama is coming with us,” announced Paul; “for whether Katalat’s story is true or not the Tcha believe him, and this is no place for Ama hereafter. She will wear the extra gas-jacket and I’ll take care of her myself.”

  Chaka approached and shook the hands of both very warmly.

  “You will be happy, and I am glad,” he remarked simply, and the poor fellow was not to blame if his smile was a little sad and wistful.

  “When shall we start?” I asked abruptly, to change the subject.

  “At once,” replied our leader.

  “Sorry we didn’t get more rubies,” said Archie. “I’ve a few in my pocket yet, but most of them I left in my room over there,” indicating with a jerk of his thumb the palace of the priests.

  Ama turned to him. “I have many of the red stones here, if you wish them,” she said.

  “They will be very useful to us all in the world I am taking you to,” asserted Paul, being recalled to the practical side of our undertaking. Perhaps he had lost sight of the fact that Ama was not the only treasure he desired.

  The girl led us to another room of the suite, a sort of storage place it seemed. Rubies? Well, well! There were quantities of them, lying loose in boxes or packed in stout sacks. All had been selected for their size and purity as the personal property of the Supreme Ruler. Ama bade us take all we wanted, and between us we managed to stow every stone upon our persons. The were not so very bulky, after all; but their value would make Paul independent for life and redeem his old homestead, as well as repay us all for the risk of this exciting adventure.

  We fitted the extra gas-jacket to Ama and then donned our own. There was some question as to whether we had enough themlyne to carry us until we reached the Seagull, so I offered to drop down outside our old quarters, jump in the window and secure the large case of crystals from the chest. This was agreed to, and when we were ready to depart Ama bade good bye to her two faithful maidens and we went out upon a broad balcony that faced the temple. The jackets had already been partly inflated. We were roped together again, Ama between Paul and Chaka, the latter at the end of the string. I was left free for the present, so as to alight at the wing as I had proposed, but I took Ned’s hand and when the gas was turned on we all rose slowly from the balcony and, flopping our wings, made our aerial way over the ruins of the old temple.

  Cries of anger greeted us from the populace who watched below, but we paid no heed to them. I saw the poor Waba Pagatka sitting on a bench with his head tied up in a bandage as the result of his encounter with the electrite, and he didn’t seem sorry to see us get away.

  A moment later, as we approached the priests’ palace, I released Ned’s hand, let out some gas and dropped swiftly to the ground just beside the wing. Scrambling through the window I unlocked our supply chest and found the large case of themlyne. That was all I dared take and I leaped through the window and let more gas into my jacket, that it might float me again. This took a little time, of course, and my descent had been marked by some of the people nearest the building.

  Before I could get away a big fellow rushed around the comer and came straight at me. I pulled my electrite and knocked him over. Another followed and met the same fate. I was now so buoyant that my toes scarcely touched the ground; but I could not rise yet, and here was a third Tcha after me. The electrite promptly settled him just as old Katalat himself appeared, running like a fiend to prevent my escape.

  He was not afraid of the electrite, having had one dose of it and knowing that it did not kill; nevertheless I aimed it at the priest and pressed the button. Nothing happened. The storage battery had become exhausted.

  The gas-valve was wide open. Slowly I left the ground and soared upward, and at that interesting moment Katalat grabbed my legs and held fast, shouting lustily for help. I remembered there was one cartridge left in my revolver.

  I glanced upward and saw that my friends were too far away to be of any assistance to me. A dozen Tcha were rushing to help Katalat secure me, and his wicked eyes glared triumphantly into mine as he held me in a vice-like grip.

  There was no help for it. I got the muzzle of the revolver against his ear and pressed the trigger. With a cry he reeled backward and ended his career for good and all. Next moment I was in the air and out of danger.

  CHAPTER 28

  WE WIN AND LOSE

  Passing the City of Itza, Chaka announced his determination to rejoin his people and rule over them as their lawful atkayma. Now that Uncle Datchapa was dead he would meet with no opposition, especially if his white brothers continued their trip through the air and did not alight in the city.

  Paul protested loudly at first, but a whisper from Ama, whose womanly intuition led her to understand the situation, induced him to let Chaka act as he desired. Their parting, as they embraced in the air, was as affecting as it was novel, and Ama graciously allowed Chaka to kiss her hand by way of farewell. The atkayma handed his electrite to Pedro and divided his rubies among us all, saying he would have no use for them.

  “Do not grieve for me, Brother Paul,” said the Maya, pleadingly. “I am sure to be happier in my own country, ruling my people, than in your stiff and luxurious civilization. It’s the call of the wild, I suppose, and I am wise to heed it. Think of me kindly sometimes, you and Ama; but think of me as free and contented, leading the chase and the wars against the Mopanes. And now, farewell!”

  He unfastened the rope from his belt, released a portion of the gas from his jacket, and slowly descended into the city. We waited long enough to see him surrounded by the natives, who prostrated themselves humbly before him, and then resumed our journey.

  ********

  It was a tedious yet arduous trip, that flight over Eastern Yucatan, for the wind was contrary, and we had hard work to make satisfactory progress. There was no safety in alighting, so we kept on as best we could.

  The night was brilliantly lighted by the stars and moon, and we were too excited to feel fatigue. It was a marvelous experience for Ama, yet the girl was not a bit afraid and endured the strain as well as the stoutest of us.

  By daylight we came to the seacoast, and proceeding north, with a slight breeze in our favor now, we presently sighted by the aid of Paul’s field gl
asses our handsome ship the Seagull. She was standing in toward the shore from the open sea, a proceeding followed daily by my father ever since we had left him, so that he might be on hand to assist us if we suddenly appeared along the shore.

  They were all considerably astonished when they discovered us coming by “air route,” and it was amusing to us from our elevated position to observe them craning their necks to watch us. Archie, when we were just over the deck — father had stopped the engines by that time — mischievously dropped a ruby that struck Uncle Naboth plump on his bald head and made him whoop like an Indian.

  We landed safely on the deck, and oh, how glad we were to feel the planks under our feet again and be relieved from all anxiety.

  Ama received a cordial greeting from both father and Uncle Naboth, and was given the state cabin. It was wonderful how quickly she adapted herself to our ways, and pleasant to see her happiness in her new experiences, which she enjoyed by the side of Lieutenant Paul Allerton.

  When we arrived in Havana, where we came to safe harbor, Paul and Ama were quietly married. We gave her a ruby necklace, hastily put together by a clever Cuban goldsmith, as her wedding gift. The bride and groom started at once for a trip to the New Hampshire homestead, where, after paying off the mortgages, Paul intended to visit his family until obliged to rejoin his ship at San Diego.

  THE END

  THE BOY FORTUNE HUNTERS IN THE SOUTH SEAS

  Published in 1911 by Reilly & Britton under Baum’s pseudonym, Floyd Akers, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas is another rousing adventure story, the sixth and last in the series. Sam Steele and his companions find themselves shipwrecked on a strange island where natives worship the Pearl God and hoard vast quantities of precious pearls in their temple. Adventures ensue as the boys must deal with revolutionaries, a lost king, and the possibility that they’ll all die violent deaths by drowning while in pursuit of riches.

  A first edition copy of ‘The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas’

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 1

  SENOR DE JIMINEZ

  “There’s one thing certain,” said my uncle, Naboth Perkins, banging his fist on the table for emphasis. “If we don’t manage to get a cargo in ten days we’ll up anchor an’ quit this bloomin’ island.”

  My father the skipper, leaning back in his easy-chair with his legs — one of them cork — stretched upon the table and his pipe in his mouth, nodded assent as he replied:

  “Very good.”

  “Here it is five weeks since we finished unloadin’ that machinery,” went on Uncle Naboth, “an’ since then the Seagull’s been floatin’ like a swan in the waters o’ Port Phillip an’ lettin’ the barnacles nip her. There ain’t a shipper in Melbourne as’ll give us an ounce o’ cargo; an’ why? Jest because we’re American an’ float the Stars an’ Stripes — that’s why. There’s a deep-seated conspiracy agin American shipping in Australia, an’ what little truck they’ve got to send to America goes in British ships or it don’t go at all.”

  Again Captain Steele nodded.

  “S’pose we try Adelaide,” suggested big Ned Britton, our first mate. “That’s jest as bad,” declared Uncle Naboth. “It’s an off season, they say; but the fact is, Australia sends mighty little to the United States, an’ those that ship anything prefer English bottoms to ours. Everything’s been contracted for months ahead, and the only chance the Seagull has of going home freighted is to grab some emergency deal — where time counts — an’ load an’ skip before any Britisher comes into port.”

  “Well?” said my father, inquiringly.

  “Well, that’s what we’ve been waitin’ for, an’ I’m gettin’ desprit tired o’ the job. So now I’ll give these folks jest ten days to rustle up a cargo for us, an’ if they don’t do it, away we goes in ballast.”

  I laughed at his earnestness.

  “Why, Uncle Naboth, it won’t hurt us to go home without freight,” said I. “In fact, we’ll make better time, and for my part I see no use in waiting ten days longer for such a ghostly chance.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Sam,” returned my uncle, impatiently. “Boys never have any business instincts, anyhow. It’s our business to carry cargoes, so to make the long voyage back home light-waisted is a howlin’ shame — that’s what it is!”

  “We were paid so much for the cargo we brought that we can well afford to run home in ballast,” I remarked.

  “There you go — jest like a boy. You’ve got a fat bank account, Sam Steele; an’ so hev I; an’ so’s the Cap’n, your father. An’ we three own the Seagull an’ can do as we blame please with her. But business is business, as Shylock says to the lawyers. We’re runnin’ this schooner to make money — not one way, but both ways — an’ our business is to see that every league she travels counts in dollars an’ cents. Nice merchantmen we’d be to float off home in ballast, jest ‘cause we got a big lump fer bringin’ a load of farm machinery here; wouldn’t we, now?”

  “Oh, I don’t object to your trying for a cargo, Uncle Naboth. That’s your part of the business, and if any man could make a contract you can do so; but I see no use in getting annoyed or worried in case we find it impossible to secure a consignment of freight.”

  Uncle Naboth smiled grimly.

  “I ain’t worried, Sam,” he said more mildly. “I’m only tellin’ you an’ the Cap’n what my sentiments is.”

  We were seated in our pleasant sitting-room at the Radley Arms, one of the cosiest inns I ever stopped at. It was a place much patronized by mariners of the better class, and Mrs. Wimp, our landlady, was certainly a wonderful cook. Joe Herring, my chum and a lad who, although only about my own age, served as second mate of the Seagull, had aroused my uncle to speech by remarking that as far as he was concerned he wouldn’t mind boarding all winter at the Radley Arms. But Joe was a silent fellow, as was my father Captain Steele, and having evoked the above tirade he said nothing further. Uncle Naboth had a perfect right to issue his ultimatum concerning our freight, being supercargo and part owner, and as our recent voyages had been fairly prosperous and we were already amply paid for our present trip to Australia we were all in a mood to take things philosophically.

  I think Ned Britton, the mate, was the most uneasy of our party, but that was because he disliked the land and was only comfortable when afloat. Ned even now lived on shipboard and kept everything taut and in running order, while my father, Uncle Naboth and I had rooms at Mrs. Wimp’s admirable inn. I am free to confess that I like a bit of land loafing now and then, while poor Ned is never happy unless he knows the water is sliding under the keel.

  Joe and I had ransacked sleepy old Melbourne pretty well by this time and had enjoyed every day of the five weeks we had been ashore. There wasn’t a great deal of excitement in town, but we managed to have a good time and to keep amused. Our little group had sat in silent meditation for a few moments following my uncle’s last remark, when Mrs. Wimp stuck her head in the door and said:

  “‘Ow’d yer loike to see a gent as wants to see yer?”

  We looked at one another inquiringly.

  “Who is it?” demanded Uncle Naboth.

  “‘E didn’t say.”

  “Didn’t say what, Mrs. Wimp?”

  “Didn’t say ‘oo’ e were.”

  “Did he say who he wanted to see?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then never mind. Tell him to call again, Mrs. Wimp,” I ventured to say, amused at the landlady’s noncommittal manner.<
br />
  “No, no!” exclaimed my uncle. “It may be somethin’ about a cargo. Who did he ask for, Mrs. Wimp?”

  “‘E jus’ dropped in an’ said: ‘Is the Seagull people stoppin”ere?”They is,’ says I. ‘Then I wants to see’ em,’ says ‘e. So I comes up to see if it’s agreeable.”

  “It is, Mrs. Wimp,” asserted Uncle Naboth. “Be kind enough to show the gentleman up.”

  Thereat Mrs. Wimp withdrew her head and closed the door. My father filled his pipe anew and relighted it. Joe looked thoughtfully out of the window into the alley below. I turned over a newspaper that lay upon the table, while Ned and my uncle indulged in a few remarks about the repairs recently made to the ship’s engines. Not one of us realized that the next few minutes were destined to alter the trend of all our lives.

  Then came the visitor. He silently opened the door, closed it swiftly behind him and stood with his back to it, shrewdly eyeing us each one in turn.

  The man’s stature was quite short and he was of slight build. His hair, coarse in texture, sprinkled with gray and cropped close, stood straight up on his forehead like a scrubbing brush. His eyes were black and piercing in expression; his nose rather too fat; his chin square and firm; his face long and lean, and his skin of the dusky olive hue peculiar to natives of southern climes. His apparel was magnificent. The velvet coat had gold buttons; he sported a loud checked vest of purple and orange, and his cravat was a broad bow of soft white ribbon with gold fringe at the edges.

  At once I began speculating whether he was a vaudeville actor or a circus barker; but either idea was dispelled when I noticed his diamonds. These were enormous, and had a luster that defied imitation. His shirt buttons were diamonds as big around as my little finger nail; he had another monster in the center of his bow tie and his fingers fairly glittered with gems of the same character. Every link of a huge watch guard was set with diamonds, and his cuff buttons were evidently worth a small fortune.