The Phantom Airman. Rowland Walker

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ face the sea again. A storm at sea is of all things the most uncomfortable. If we meet with a storm on the air-route we can either go above it or pass on one side, as most storms are only local affairs."

      "Not to speak of the time that is wasted by land or sea-travel," added the colonel.

      "Exactly," replied the judge.

      "Only to think that in forty-eight hours we shall be in London, even allowing for a two hours' stay in Cairo to pick up further mails and passengers."

      "Wonderful! Wonderful!" agreed his companion.

      "And the absence of heat is some consideration, when travelling in a land like India," continued the colonel as he flicked off the end of his cigar.

      "Yes. The stifling heat, particularly in May, June and July, when you get the hot dry winds, is altogether insufferable in those stuffy railway carriages, while up here it is delightfully cool and bracing, and the view is magnificent."

      "Hullo! what is that fine river down there?" asked the judge, as he looked down through the clear, tropical atmosphere on to the delightful landscape of river, plain and forest three thousand feet below.

      "Oh, that must be the Indus, the King River of Vedic poetry, a wonderful stream, two thousand miles in length," said the colonel, consulting his pocket map.

      "Can it really be the Indus?"

      "It is indeed."

      "Then we have already travelled four hundred miles since noon across the burning plains of India, and we have reached the confines of this wonderful land," replied Jefferson.

      "Yes, we have indeed. We shall soon enter the native state of Baluchistan. See yonder, right ahead of us, I can already make out the highest peaks of the Sulaiman Mountains. We are already rising to cross them."

      "And this evening we shall cross the troubled territory of Afghanistan."

      "Yes," replied the colonel, "and by midnight, if all goes well, we shall be sailing over Persia."

      "Persia, the land of enchantment," mused the judge.

      "And of the Arabian Nights, those wonderful tales which charmed our boyhood–the land of Aladdin, of the wonderful lamp, and the magic carpet."

      "The magic carpet," laughed the judge. "This is the real magic carpet. The author of that wonderful story never dreamt that the day would really come when the traveller from other lands, reclining in luxury, would be carried through the air across his native land, by day or by night, at twice the flight of a bird."

      And so these two men talked about these wonderful classic lands over which they were sailing so serenely, of Zoroaster, the great Persian teacher of other days, of Ahura Mazda, the All-Wise, and the Cobbler of Baghdad, until the tea-bell startled them.

      Then, finding they were hungry because the bracing air had made them so, they passed on to the snug little tea-room, where, amid the palm-trees and the orchids, they listened to soft dulcet notes from a small Indian orchestra which accompanied the maharajah. Here, they sipped delicious china tea from dainty Persian cups, and appeased their hunger, as best they could, from the tiny portions of alluring patisserie which usually accompany afternoon tea.

      But, later that evening, they did ample justice to a fuller and nobler banquet, which had been prepared for them in the gilded and lofty dining saloon; for they were the honoured guests of the Maharajah of Bangapore. And he entertained them right royally as befitted one of his princely rank.

      And in all the wondrous folk-lore and tradition of the ancient Persian kings, was there ever a more regal banquet, or one more conspicuous by the splendour of its oriental wealth than this long-protracted feast? Rich emblazoned goblets of gold, bejewelled with rare and precious gems, adorned the table, for the prince had brought his household treasures; they were to him his household gods, and heirlooms of priceless worth.

      Never the Lydian flute played sweeter music than these soft native airs which wandered amid the eastern skies, as, under the silver moon, the long, glistening, pearl-like airship sailed on beneath the stars, while down, far down below, lay the ruins of Persepolis, where the ancient kings of Persia slept their last long sleep.

      CHAPTER VI

      AN UP-TO-DATE CABIN BOY

      While the great, mammoth air-liner is racing like a meteor across the eastern skies, on its way to Cairo and London, it is necessary to introduce to the reader a chirpy, little fellow called Gadget. In fact, this cute little chap, who stood a matter of four feet two inches in his stockinged feet, deserves a chapter or two all to himself.

      Now Gadget did not belong to the passengers, nor did his name appear at all in that distinguished list. Neither did he rightly belong to the crew, except in the matter of his own opinion–on which subject he held very pronounced views. But he certainly did belong to the airship, and appeared to be part of the apparatus, or maybe the fixtures and effects. He certainly knew the run of that great liner, every nook and corner of it, better even than the purser or the navigating officer.

      To tell the truth, this insignificant but perky little bit of humanity was a stowaway, who had determined, at twelve years of age, to see the world, at the expense of somebody else. How he came aboard, and hid himself amongst the mail-bags, until the airship had sailed a thousand miles over land and sea, still remains a mystery. But it happened that, when the Empress of India was crossing the blue waters of the Adriatic sea, on her outward voyage, there came a tap at the captain's door one afternoon when the latter had just retired for a brief spell.

      "Come in!" called the air-skipper, in rather surly tones, wondering what had happened to occasion this interruption.

      The next instant, the chief officer entered the little state-room, leading by a bit of string, attached to one of his nether garments, the most tattered-looking, diminutive, but perky little street Arab the captain had ever beheld.

      "What in the name of goodness have you got there, Crabtree?" exclaimed the skipper, starting up from his comfortable bunk, at this apparition.

      "Stowaway, sir!" replied the officer briefly.

      "Stowaway?" echoed the captain.

      "Yes, sir."

      "Where did you find him?"

      "Didn't find him, sir. He gave himself up just now. Says he's been hiding amongst the mail-bags. What shall I do with him, sir?"

      "Tie him to a parachute and drop him overboard as soon as we are over the land again," shouted the captain in angry tones. "I won't have any stowaways aboard my ship."

      This was said more to frighten the little imp than with real intent, though the air-skipper spoke in angry tones, as if he meant what he said. He was evidently very much annoyed at this discovery.

      "He's half-frozen, sir," interposed the chief officer in more kindly tones.

      "Humph! Of course he is," added the captain. "This keen, biting wind at three thousand feet above the sea must have turned his marrow cold. Besides, he hasn't enough clothes to cover a rabbit decently. Just look at him!"

      The little chap's eyes sparkled, and his face flushed a little at this reference to his scant wardrobe. But he knew by the changed tone in the captain's voice that the worst was now over. He had not even heard a reference to the proverbial rope's-end, a vision which he had always associated in his mind with stowaways.

СКАЧАТЬ