Chapter IX

A PASSENGER FOR PENANG

From the information given him by Captain Bunce, Smith hoped to pick up the lights of Penang without much difficulty. While on the ship's deck he had noticed that the easterly breeze was very light, so that even with the slight additional weight he carried, his speed would not be greatly diminished. With good luck three or four hours would see him safe in port.

Rodier pulled out his watch soon after they started, and comparing it with the schedule of the journey, shouted in Smith's ear—

"We are four hours late, mister."

"I know we are," cried Smith. "Confound you, Roddy, you're always telling me I'm late. If you say anything like that again I'll throw you out."

Rodier grinned.

"Mademoiselle wouldn't like that," he shouted. "Tout va bien, mademoiselle?" he said, turning to the lady. "Vous n'avez pas peur?"

"It is terribly fast," said the girl breathlessly, and Rodier came to the conclusion that Captain Bunce's opinion of his daughter's linguistic ability was exaggerated.

The moon had set, and the flight was continued in almost total darkness. At length, shortly before four o'clock in the morning, Smith caught sight of lights ahead. He had touched at Penang some years before, when his first ship was on her way out to the Australian station, and he knew that the most suitable place for alighting was a large open space, clear of vegetation and buildings, about a mile from the port. In a few minutes the aeroplane was flying over the sleeping town. He slackened speed, and circled around for some time, seeking the spot with the aid of his searchlight. He discovered it with more ease than he had dared to hope, and bidding Rodier look out for obstacles, descended to the ground.

"Here we are, Miss Bunce," he said cheerfully, as he stepped out. "I hope you feel none the worse for your ride."

"It is wonderful," said the girl. "I shall never forget it."

"The question is, what are we to do now? Your father mentioned a friend of his, but as I have little time to spare I think you had better come with me to my friend Mr. Daventry. He is in the administration here, and I am sure Mrs. Daventry will be glad to do anything she can for you. You see, I can find my way there in the dark, I think, whereas we should have to wait until daylight to find your father's friend, and that would be a nuisance in every way."

"I will do whatever you think best."

Leaving Rodier with the aeroplane, the other two set off towards the town.

"You will try to send help to Father?" said the girl.

"As soon as it's light. This is Sunday morning, by the way. You're all right, but I'm afraid I look far from Sundayish. Still, no one can see me, and I shall be off before the people go to church."

"So soon as that? Aren't you very tired?"

"Not so tired as I've been in the manoeuvres. We get a nap in turn, you know."

"How can you sleep when you're in such terrible danger?"

"Well, you see I'm used to it. We don't think of the danger. Perhaps it's because I've never had a bad accident. The want of a decent meal is the worst of it. We haven't had one since Thursday night, but I daresay we can keep going on light fare for another three or four days."

"You know I've often wanted to go up in an aeroplane, though I suspect I should have backed out if I had really had the chance. I'm very glad Father insisted on my coming, but I wish it had been daylight; I could only hold on and try not to be afraid."

"I'm sorry we can't take you with us—no, I don't quite mean that, Miss Bunce; of course you couldn't come careering about; what I mean is that I shall be very glad to take you a daylight trip one of these days if you care to come—when we get back home, of course. Captain Bunce was kind enough to give me an invitation; he said you would give me a cup of tea—"

"And sing to you! I know exactly what he said; but you mustn't pay too much attention to Father. He's a dear old man, but quite absurd over my little accomplishments."

"But I may have a cup of tea?"

"With or without sugar—if you really mean it."

"Of course I mean it. One of these days you will find my aeroplane at your door—"

"Good gracious! it will be in pieces, then, for our street isn't wide enough to give it room."

"Well, you'll find me at the door then; and after I have had my cup of tea, with three lumps of sugar, and you have sung a little song—just to please your father, of course—we will walk to where my man is waiting with the aeroplane, two or three streets off, and we'll take a jaunt to Greenwich Park, or Richmond, or wherever you like."

"That will be very nice," said Miss Bunce, and Smith wished it were not too dark to see her face, for the tone expressed utter disbelief. He wanted to assure her that he meant what he said, but, reflecting that he had better not seem to suggest that she doubted it, he said—

"That's settled, then. I suppose it will be three or four months before you get home, and I shan't have another leave for I don't know how long, so we won't fix a date. Now Mr. Daventry's bungalow is in this direction; I hope I shall be able to find it."

They walked about for some minutes before Smith was able to satisfy himself that he had discovered the bungalow. They passed through the compound, looked with a smile at the native servant sleeping on a mat at the door, and laughed to see him jump when awakened by Smith's vigorous rapping. At a word from Smith the man went into the dwelling, but a moment afterwards a window above the entrance was thrown open, and a loud voice demanded what was the matter.

"That you, Daventry?" Smith called.

"Yes. Who are you? What's the matter?"

"It's Charley Smith. Sorry to disturb you at this unearthly hour, old chap."

"What in the name of—! All right. I'll come down."

They saw a light struck; in a minute they saw framed in the doorway a tall man in pyjamas, holding a candle.

"Come in, Smith," he cried. "Why, what the—! Here, I say, I won't be a minute."

Setting down the candle on the doorstep, he hurriedly fled. Smith glanced at the girl. She was quite unembarrassed, and when she caught his eye she frankly smiled. "She's the right sort," he said to himself. Presently Mr. Daventry returned in trousers and a smoking jacket.

"Excuse my leaving you. I went to—to waken Mary," he said. "She'll be down in a minute; come in. Didn't know you were married, old boy," he whispered, taking Smith by the arm.

"Hush!" said Smith anxiously, hoping that Margaret Bunce had not caught the words.

Mr. Daventry led them into his dining-room, turned on the lights, and looked inquiringly at his visitors. The girl was already unpinning her low cloth hat.

"Why, what on earth—!" exclaimed Mr. Daventry; "what have you been doing to yourself, Smith?"

"I am a bit of a sweep, no doubt, but you can give me a bath. The fact is—well, it's plaguey difficult to tell it shortly—but the fact is I picked up this lady—no, hang it all! Miss Bunce, please help me out."

"Mr. Smith picked me up, as he says, from a burning ship in mid-ocean, and was kind enough to bring me here in his aeroplane."

"Sounds simple, don't it?" said Smith, as Mr. Daventry looked from one to the other in amazement.

"But—I don't understand—mid-ocean—an aeroplane? Mary," he added to a lady in a dressing-gown who had just entered, "come and listen to this. You know Charley Smith? Miss—Miss—"

"Margaret Bunce," said the girl, rising.

"My wife. Now, let us all sit down and see if we can make this out. If I understand aright Miss Bunce was in a burning ship in mid-ocean—"

"Oh, poor thing!" said Mrs. Daventry sympathetically, going to Margaret and taking her hand.

"And—correct me if I'm wrong—Smith descended out of the clouds, caught up Miss Bunce, and flew with her to the house of his nearest friend. Is your aeroplane outside, old man?"

"It's a mile away, in charge of my chauffeur. I think I had better tell the whole story from the beginning."

"I think so, too; it's rather cloudy at present. Have a cigar—if the ladies don't mind."

"Well, two days ago I learnt that my father was shipwrecked along with the company of his survey vessel on one of the Solomons, practically unarmed, the report says. As the news was taken to Brisbane by some of the crew in an open boat, they must have been at the mercy of the savages for a week or more, and probably hard pushed. Of course a gunboat was to be sent to relieve them, but as every hour was important I decided to try to get to them in my aeroplane and take them some ammunition. Last night, coming somewhere south of the Andamans, we saw a ship on fire; she was adrift, lost her masts and all boats but one. The captain asked me to send help as soon as I got here, and Miss Bunce was good enough to accept our escort, and here we are."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Daventry. "But—I don't understand yet. How did you come to be by the Andamans? Where did you come from?"

"Left London early Friday morning: came by Constantinople and Karachi."

"Upon my word, Smith, if I didn't know you I should be inclined to ask if you are sober. You have come all the way from London since Friday morning?"

"Exactly. But I know you'll excuse me: I haven't time to tell you any more. We are already four hours late, and every hour means nearly two hundred miles. There are two things I want to do. First to arrange with the port officer to send help to Captain Bunce; then to get the petrol and lubricating oil ordered for me here. Van Kloof's the man. You know him, of course."

"Yes, but it's Sunday."

"The better the day, the better the deed. I must have the petrol; I must start in two hours or less. And I should like a good bath and a breakfast first."

"You shall have both, but surely you can wait till daylight."

"I'm afraid I can't. It is very awkward, I admit, and I fear I shall give you and several others a lot of trouble; but needs must when the devil drives, as they say, and the devil in this case is Father Time. You see, I've not only got to take some rifles and ammunition to the shipwrecked party, but I must rejoin my ship by Friday morning, or there'll be ructions. I've got a name for overstepping the limit, and my captain warned me that I'd better rejoin promptly this time."

"We mustn't hinder him, Jack," said Mrs. Daventry.

"But, hang it all, Mary, do you understand what it means? He'll kill himself, rushing round the world like this."

"Not at all; I'm pretty tough," said Smith. "Now, old fellow, what is the best you can do for me?"

"Go and get your things on, Jack," said Mrs. Daventry practically. "You can take Mr. Smith down to the harbour and get what he wants. I'll see about the bath and the breakfast, and I am sure Miss Bunce will help; I won't disturb the servants. Really, it is quite exciting."

"Thank you, Mrs. Daventry. It is very good of you. But I'm sure Miss Bunce ought to go to sleep."

"I am not a bit sleepy," said the girl, "and I shall certainly help Mrs. Daventry."

"Come along then, my dear," said the hostess. "We will go and see to things at once."

In five minutes Mr. Daventry was down. He and Smith left the house and made their way rapidly to the harbour. The port officer complained at having his beauty sleep disturbed, and when he learnt that his assistance was wanted for a burning ship near the Andamans he declared that he wished wireless had never been invented.

"People know too much nowadays," he grumbled. "They'll know what we think before we think it next."

"Don't undeceive him," whispered Smith to Daventry, anxious to escape the necessity of lengthy explanations. The port officer agreed to send a steamer in search of the Elizabeth as soon as it was light. Then, without losing a minute, Daventry led Smith to the house of Mr. Van Kloof, of whom the petrol had been ordered.

"He's a bit of a slow-coach," said Daventry, "and will want to know all about it, so I advise you to tell him everything; or better still, leave it to me."

"Very well. Anything to save time."

Mr. Van Kloof was hard to awaken. When he was at last aroused by his servants, he put his head out of his bedroom window, and demanded gruffly what was the matter.

"Come down, Van Kloof, and I'll explain. It's a matter of life or death," said Daventry.

"Vat is it? An earthquake?"

"Worse than that. Slip into your breeches, man."

The merchant presently appeared at his door in shirt and breeches, and carrying a revolver.

"You got a cable from London ordering eighty gallons of petrol to be held ready for Lieutenant Smith?" said Daventry.

"So. Dat is quite true."

"Well, here is Lieutenant Smith, and he wants the petrol at once."

Mr. Daventry explained where the petrol was to be sent.

"No, it cannot be done, Mr. Daventry. It is Sunday morning. My store is closed, and I do not understand the hurry."

"Lieutenant Smith is off to the Solomon Islands to save his father from being eaten by cannibals. There isn't a moment to lose."

"Dat is strange. For vy should I take oil for a motor-boat up country? You are playing games vid me?"

"Of course not. He's not going by motor-boat, but by aeroplane."

"Oho! Tell dat to the marines."

"Hang it, Van Kloof, listen without interrupting. Mr. Smith has come by aeroplane from London, and is going on at once. Give me the key of your store, and we'll go and get the stuff ourselves."

"Veil, of all the—pardon me, gentlemen, but you vill allow me to be shocked to hear such news at five o'clock on a Sunday morning. I vill come vid you. I must vake up some coolies to carry the cans. But it shall be done; I vill myself see to it. I must look vell at dis aeroplane."

"You're sure we can rely on you?"

"I vill bring all before an hour, you may trust me for dat."

"Then we'll hurry back, Smith, and see about your breakfast. What about your man, by the way?"

"He's cleaning the engine by searchlight, and eating sardines and biscuits, or something of the sort."

"Couldn't we fetch him?"

"I'm afraid there isn't time, and besides, he can hardly leave the aeroplane unattended. It's hard lines, but I'll make it up to him when we get back."

They returned to the bungalow. A steaming bath was ready. When Smith had bathed, he found hot coffee and eggs awaiting him. He ate and drank ravenously, and in a quarter of an hour declared that he must get back to the aeroplane.

"Nonsense," said Daventry. "The petrol won't be there for half-an-hour yet. You'll just lie down and rest, and have a comfortable smoke. I'll go up the hill and take some food to your man."

"You're a good fellow," said Smith, dropping into a capacious arm-chair. Mrs. Daventry arranged a cushion behind his head, Miss Bunce placed a stool for him to stretch his legs on, and in half-a-minute he was fast asleep.

"Don't wake him for an hour," said Mr. Daventry, as he left the house; "I'll see that all is ready for him."

The sun was rising when Mrs. Daventry, now dressed for outdoors, wakened the sleeper by lifting his hand. He sprang up with a start.

"Now, don't be agitated," said Mrs. Daventry. "It's just six o'clock. Jack has gone to see that all is ready for you, and Miss Bunce and I are coming to see you start. Really, I quite envy her, though I'm sure I should never have the courage to go up in the air."

"You'll think nothing of it some day. You've been very kind, and I'm immensely obliged to you. By the way, will you ask Daventry, in case I forget it, to send a cable to my sister to say that I'm all right?"

"I won't forget. Now shall we go?"

They found that a small crowd had collected round the aeroplane. Mr. Daventry and Mr. Van Kloof were there, with several other Englishmen, and a number of Chinese coolies and nondescript natives stood at a little distance, gazing in wondering silence. Rodier had his watch in his hand, and looked reproachfully at his employer. Smith pressed through the crowd, shaking hands with the Englishmen one after another, but declaring that he had no time for talking. He shook hands with the Daventrys and Miss Bunce last of all, thanking them very heartily for their assistance; then, calling for a clear space, he followed Rodier to his seat. Almost before the onlookers could realize what was happening, the aeroplane was in action, and while they were still discussing the extraordinary nature of this means of locomotion, it had soared into the air, flown humming away from them, and become a mere speck in the eastern sky.

They were scarcely clear of the ground before Rodier, raising his voice to a bellow, shouted—

"Mister!"

"Yes. What?" replied Smith, fearing that something was wrong.

"Mister! We are four hours ten minutes late!"