Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  It was not far to the beautiful landlocked bay before which the Pearl City had been built, and when it came into full view I found the water thickly covered with boats of every description. The entire populace seemed to have turned out to witness my execution, and the occasion partook of the nature of a festival, for boats, barges and buildings were gay with the peculiar banners these people use for decoration. They were of all colors and shapes, and every one was bordered with pearls.

  One of the biggest flat-bottomed barges, manned by a score of oarsmen, lay at the foot of the street waiting to receive us. I stepped aboard, the guards followed and the Crooked One took a seat beside me. Then, while the crowd scrambled for all the empty boats remaining, our oarsmen dipped their paddles and we moved slowly away toward the center of the bay.

  A clear space, several hundred feet in diameter, had been left for my exclusive use, and I looked at it rather disapprovingly because the clear, smooth stretch of water was destined, seemingly, to extinguish all my future hopes and ambitions. Death by drowning may be a merciful mode of execution, but I do not think any condemned person can look with composure upon death in any form. For my part I took a sudden aversion to water, although I had always loved it before.

  First we drew up before the royal barge, in which sat the young king upon a high seat. Around this place, and indeed all around the clear space in the bay, were clustered hundreds of boats, so densely packed that their sides touched. Every boat had as many passengers as it would hold, but the natives were quiet and no shouts nor jeering did I hear.

  Standing up beside me the Crooked One bowed low before the king and said in a loud voice:

  “Here is a stranger who has dared to land upon the shores of Faytan. What shall be done with him, King of Faytan?”

  “Let him die,” answered the king, speaking so that all might hear.

  With an abruptness that startled me, all that vast concourse repeated the sentence after him:

  “Let him die!”

  It was a veritable roar of voices, expressing all the restrained repugnance of the people for a stranger and their demand for vengeance. It was not so much personal hatred on their part as a desire that I should pay the long deferred penalty for my crime — the crime of being shipwrecked on their coast.

  The chieftain resumed his seat and motioned to the oarsmen. With their former deliberation they paddled us out into the clear space, until we had reached the very center of it. Quite naturally I had expected to be bound and have a weight attached to me before I was thrown overboard to drown, but it transpired that this was not the Faytan custom. The king had said he was merciful and did not torture his victims, yet it was with a thrill of horror that I realized my death was to be made a spectacle for the delectation of the natives, who were assembled to watch and enjoy my struggles as I slowly drowned.

  Two strong warriors caught me up and tossed me into the water without any warning or preparation. Then the barge receded to a position beside that of the king, leaving me to my fate.

  I am a good swimmer, having lived on the water all my life. After the plunge I arose to the surface, supported myself and looked about me. My clothes were a drag upon me, so I managed to divest myself of my coat and my shoes while I trod water.

  Why I should make what appeared a useless struggle for a brief period of life was not clear to my mind just then. I was the center of a great theater and thousands of eyes watched me with grave interest. At the edge of the clearing a man was stationed in the prow of every boat with an uplifted spear to prevent my clinging to the side. They wanted me to struggle. The longer I tried to keep above water the longer the spectacle would last. No matter how powerful a swimmer I might prove I would wear out my strength in time, and they were prepared to wait patiently to witness my antics and my final conquest.

  The thought came to me to disappoint them by letting myself quietly drown at once; but so strong is hope in the human breast that I abandoned the idea and determined, instead, to fight it out to the very end.

  I rested leisurely upon my back, trying to avoid giving way to excitement and wondering how long I could last, when suddenly a dark object swept across the sky, approaching me with marvelous rapidity. In an instant I knew it was the biplane, and the knowledge so excited me that it was almost fatal. I rolled over and began to sink; then I struggled to the surface to find the airship just over me.

  “Catch hold of the frame — here — anywhere!” called an eager voice — eager though it strove to be calm.

  I raised myself and made a frantic effort to obey, but failed and sank again. When I came to the surface a moment later the biplane was circling over the bay. Again it came toward me, and this time it dipped until it nearly touched the water. I grabbed the frame as it passed by and clung to it desperately, for it nearly jerked my arms from their sockets.

  Arrows were whizzing about me in a cloud; the natives were shouting angrily and a thousand boats were rushing toward us; but the next instant I was high in the air, dangling from the frail crossbar of the lower plane, and my safety was only a question of whether I could hang on or not.

  A face bent over me from the seat and stared into mine — a girl’s face.

  “Lucia!” I cried in wonder.

  “Save your breath and hold on!” she returned. “Can you manage it, Sam?”

  “I’ll try — for awhile.”

  “Till we get to the ship?”

  “I — I’m afraid not.”

  Indeed, this rush through the air was fast driving the life out of me. My arms and hands were so numb there was no feeling in them at all. Lucia had straightened up to attend to the machine, and the next thing I knew I bumped the earth, lost my hold, and went rolling over and over.

  “Quick!” cried the girl. “Let me help you.”

  I sat up, quite dazed, and glanced about me. We were in an open field, just now deserted by the natives, and Alfonso’s Antoinette rested upon the ground a short distance away. I could not have stood alone, but Lucia dragged me to my feet and half supported me while I tottered to the machine. It was a great effort to climb aboard, but the girl, naturally strong and rendered doubly so by excitement, got me into the seat and then deftly started the motors as she sprang up beside me.

  The machine rolled along the ground a little way, lifted its nose and then soared into the air like a bird. I was still marveling at the girl’s wonderful control of the aeroplane when the ship came in sight. We dipped downward, the motor ceased to whir and the next moment we gracefully alighted full upon the deck of the ship.

  A mighty cheer rang in my ears. Then all turned black and I lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE WAY IT HAPPENED

  When I recovered I was surrounded by my friends. Father and Uncle Naboth were administering restoratives while Ned Britton, Alfonso and Senor de Jiminez stood by in a sympathetic group with the sailors for a background. Lucia, squatted in a heap upon the deck, was sobbing into a wet handkerchief. Evidently, now that the adventure was over, the brave girl was wholly unnerved.

  Still dazed, but trying to collect my thoughts, I sat up.

  “Where’s Joe?” I asked.

  My father was silent and Uncle Naboth shook his head. Lucia redoubled her sobs. This made me anxious. I got upon my feet with an effort and said:

  “Isn’t he here?”

  “No,” said Lucia, spreading out her hands with a piteous gesture. “He is in the Pearl City. I left him there.”

  Then, by degrees, they explained it all to me. Joe could not rest contented while he knew I was in danger, and from his knowledge of King Attero he believed the savage ruler would drown me as soon as I ceased to interest him in my tales of the civilized world. He confided his fears to Lucia, and suggested that as the biplane was still reposing upon the roof of the house in the Pearl City, he might rescue me by its aid if he could succeed in getting there. He had already crossed the island twice, and believed he could make the trip in a single night. Lucia encourage
d him to make the attempt, and offered to go with him; but he would not allow her to do that. When Joe mentioned the matter to father and Uncle Naboth they both disapproved the idea, considering it a hopeless and foolhardy adventure. They did not forbid him to go, however, but said if he undertook the thing he must do so on his own responsibility.

  My friend would not be dissuaded, but he confided no further in my relatives and went about his preparations in his own way. With Lucia’s aid he made a stain that dyed his skin to a copper color, and then stripped himself of all clothing except a loin cloth such as the Faytans wore. He took a blanket and his revolvers and then, when all was ready and night came, Lucia let down a knotted rope for him and he climbed down the side unobserved and began his journey.

  The girl, meantime, had made up her mind not to be deprived of the glory of a share in the adventure. With the impulsiveness of a Spaniard in her was united the athletic training of an American girl, and her romantic nature impelled her to an act that was no less than folly. She silently followed Joe and tracked him more than half way across the island before he discovered her. Then he was in a dilemma. She positively refused to return to the ship, and he did not like to have her do so unattended. On the other hand he had an intuition that I was in immediate danger and time pressed, so he dared not go back and postpone the event. Therefore he unwillingly permitted the girl to accompany him.

  After they had succeeded in passing the warriors in the forest they met no delays on their journey and before daybreak arrived at the city. Joe found the house where we had left the airship, but could not get in. He secreted himself and Lucia in a nook between two rear buildings until morning, when the family that inhabited the place arose. By good luck they managed to creep in unobserved and made their way to the roof, where they found the biplane had been left undisturbed. The natives knew nothing of its operation and perhaps regarded the machine with superstitious awe.

  In overhauling the machine Joe discovered that Lucia understood it as well as he did. She had watched us put it together and repair it after Alfonso’s accident and had listened carefully and intelligently while we were instructed in its use. Now she helped Joe adjust it, and they got it in order just as I was led out for my execution.

  Peering over the edge of the roof Joe watched me being led away and at first could not understand what was up. But when the entire population not already gathered at the water front hurried after us, he gave a shrewd guess that the hour of my execution was at hand.

  He knew pretty well what the programme would be. I was to be drowned in sight of the watching Faytans. The water front was not visible from their station on the housetop, but Lucia proposed she should take a flight in the airship and find out how seriously I was in danger.

  He allowed her to go for two reasons. One was that he believed he could start the machine all right from the roof, which she could not do. And then, if she found a chance to rescue me, we could go back to the ship in the biplane and Lucia and I would both be saved. To go himself meant to leave her there alone upon the roof, in a strange city and surrounded by enemies.

  Of course her mission was a desperate one at the best; but Joe considered it less hazardous than for her to be left upon the roof, and the biplane could not be trusted to carry three.

  He questioned Lucia closely, and her knowledge of the machine was more accurate than his own. She had never operated it, but neither had he, for that matter, so in the end he let her go.

  The biplane was started safely at the first attempt, and Lucia rose well into the air and circled around until she got her bearings and could overlook the tragedy being enacted on the bay. Then, seeing my danger, she headed directly for me — and the result you know.

  “Where is he now?” I asked Lucia.

  “Still in the Pearl City,” she replied. “Before I left him he said he would hide until to-night and then make his way back across the island.”

  “Did he say where he would hide?”

  “Yes. He was afraid some one would visit the roof as soon as the natives found that the airship had been taken away. So, while every one was on the water front, he intended to steal away and hide in the room that used to be your prison, at the back of the temple. He said no one would think of looking for him there, and he could get in through the windows and get out again when it grew dark.”

  I didn’t like that plan very well, and began to be worried about my friend. I found my strength returning rapidly and as soon as I could get about I began to examine the airship, to see if it was in proper order. Alfonso, his arm in a sling and his head well bandaged, sauntered up to me and said:

  “You fellows seem to have little respect for the property of others. See what trouble you’ve caused by stealing my Antoinette.”

  “You are right,” I admitted. “What will you take for the machine?”

  “I won’t sell it. It belongs to the revolution.”

  “Well, the revolution can’t use it just now, and I can,” I returned. “So if you won’t sell it I’ll borrow it.”

  “What are you going to do?” he inquired.

  “I’m going to look for Joe. Those Faytans are in an ugly temper just now, and they’ll make a quick end of him if they find him.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Sam,” cautioned Uncle Naboth.

  “Joe can take care of himself,” added my father.

  “I thought I could, too; but if Joe hadn’t tried to help me I’d be drowned by this time. Do you think I ought to desert a comrade, father?” He looked at me thoughtfully a moment. Then he muttered as he turned away:

  “Do as you like, Sam. You know best.”

  I turned to Alfonso.

  “How about the biplane?” I asked. “Can I borrow it, or must I steal it again?”

  “Take it and welcome,” he replied. “Joe’s a good fellow. I wish I could go after him myself.”

  Alfonso wasn’t half bad for a South American. He had his faults, but a lot of good qualities with them.

  “You can’t go just now,” warned Lucia, who had been listening to us with nervous attention.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Look!” She pointed to the sky, and for the first time I noticed that it was a leaden gray. The sun had not wholly disappeared, but was a half luminous ball glowing through murky clouds.

  “Another of them blamed storms is comin’,” remarked Uncle Naboth; “but we don’t have to shorten sail for ‘em while we’re floatin’ on dry land.”

  “The other storm didn’t come that way, sir,” observed Ned Britton, gravely.

  We were silent now, for darkness fell upon us suddenly. It was almost as if a light had been extinguished at night. There wasn’t a breath of air stirring and the sea was like glass, but a queer moaning sound came to our ears and we could not discover what caused it.

  “Better get below, Lucia, and look after your mother,” said Alfonso.

  I could hear her move away obediently, but was unable to see any of the forms that stood around me.

  We waited for we knew not what, and the unseen but recognized danger filled us with awe.

  Suddenly the deck slid from beneath my feet and I fell flat upon my face. The ship heaved and rolled as if it were tossing upon the waves of the ocean, and her timbers creaked and groaned mournfully. At the same time crash after crash echoed around us, accompanied by a strange rending sound, as if all creation was being tom asunder.

  Then the ship stood firm, as it had been before, trembling slightly at times but no longer tossing at its rock anchorage. The blackness continued, however, and our men lighted the lanterns, disclosing our white, pallid faces as we peered at one another questioningly.

  Black Nux had raised me to my feet and was even yet partially supporting me.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “Eart’quake, Mars Sam,” he replied in a calm voice. “Guess it all over now.”

  There were a few more trembles, and then came the rain — in a deluge, as it had rained before. We were
all driven to seek shelter below, and there we waited anxiously for the sky to clear, that we might discover what cataclysms the quake had wrought.

  It rained for two solid hours. The darkness continued for an hour or so longer. It lightened gradually, so that the first intimation I had of it was the clearing away of the shadows that had lurked in the comers of the cabin, where the lamplight did not penetrate. I went on deck, where I found Ned, with Nux and Bryonia and most of the crew, all peering anxiously through the dim light in the direction of the sea.

  “What is it, Ned?” I asked, joining them.

  “The reefs!” he said, pointing with a trembling finger. “Where are they, Sam?”

  I also looked, straining my eyes to discover the two jagged lines of rock jutting out of the sea between us and the open water, as well as the boat patrol that had guarded them ever since the day of our shipwreck. But through the gray atmosphere I could see nothing but the broad expanse of ocean. The waves rolled in, one after another, and broke against the very rocks that held the Seagull a prisoner.

  There was something queer about the position of the ship, too. Heretofore we had been perched between the two points of rock, full twenty feet above the sea. Now the waves almost lapped our sides, and instead of the rocky points being below us, they reared themselves far above the deck on either side.

  I turned toward the island, from whence not a sound was heard. The light had strengthened sufficiently for me to see the forest line, and presently I was aware that some of the trees near the edge had tottered and fallen their length upon the plain. Otherwise the landscape seemed unchanged, and the open space between us and the forest, which had been the scene of such deadly conflict, looked just as it had before.

  Truly the earthquake had wrought wonders, and in some ways had benefited us. The most startling change was the destruction of the reefs, leaving the sea free before us. The boats filled with warriors, placed to guard us from escaping, had been swallowed up with the reefs, and no vestige of that formidable array remained except a few fragments of the canoes which washed ashore.