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It was with no little surprise that the news of the plight that was said to have befallen Andy Foger was received by Tom and his associates. The newspaper had quite an account of the affair, and, even allowing the usual discount for the press dispatches, it looked as if the former bully was in rather distressing circumstances.
“He won’t have to be carried very far into Africa to be in a bad country,” said the old hunter. “Of course, some parts of the continent are all right, and for me, I like it all, where there’s hunting to be had. But I guess your young friend Foger won’t care for it.”
“He’s no friend of ours,” declared Ned, as Tom was reading the newspaper account. “Still, I don’t wish him any bad luck, and I do hope he doesn’t become the captive of the red pygmies.”
“So do I,” echoed the old hunter fervently. There was no news of Andy in the papers the next day, though there were cable dispatches speculating on what might have happened to him and the airship. In Shopton the dispatches created no little comment, and it was said that Mr. Foger was going to start for Africa at once to rescue his son. This, however, could not be confirmed.
Meanwhile Tom and his friends were very busy over the Black Hawk. Every hour saw the craft nearer completion, for the young inventor had had much experience in this sort of work now, and knew just how to proceed.
To Mr. Damon were intrusted certain things which he could well attend to, and though he frequently stopped to bless his necktie or his shoelaces, still he got along fairly well.
There would be no necessity of purchasing supplies in this country, for they could get all they needed in the African city of Majumba, on the western coast, where they planned to land. There the airship would be put together, stocked with provisions and supplies, and they would begin their journey inland. They planned to head for Buka Meala, crossing the Congo River, and then go into the very interior of the heart of the dark continent.
As we have described in detail, in the former books of this series, the construction of Tom Swift’s airship, the Red Cloud, and as the Black Hawk was made in a similar manner to that, we will devote but brief space to it now. As the story proceeds, and the need arises for a description of certain features, we will give them to you, so that you will have a clear idea of what a wonderful craft it was.
Sufficient to say that there was a gas bag, made of a light but strong material, and capable of holding enough vapor, of a new and secret composition, to lift the airship with its load. This was the dirigible-balloon feature of the craft, and with the two powerful propellers, fore and aft (in which particular the Black Hawk differed from the Red Cloud which had two forward propellers);—with these two powerful wooden screws, as we have said, the new ship could travel swiftly without depending on the wing planes.
But as there is always a possibility of the gas bag being punctured, or the vapor suddenly escaping from one cause or another, Tom did not depend on this alone to keep his craft afloat. It was a perfect aeroplane, and with the gas bag entirely empty could be sent scudding along at any height desired. To enable it to rise by means of the wings, however, it was necessary to start it in motion along the ground, and for this purpose wheels were provided.
There was a large body or car to the craft, suspended from beneath the gas bag, and in this car were the cabins, the living, sleeping and eating apartments, the storerooms and the engine compartment.
This last was a marvel of skill, for it contained besides the gas machine, and the motor for working the propellers, dynamos, gages, and instruments for telling the speed and height, motors for doing various pieces of work, levers, wheels, cogs, gears, tanks for storing the lifting gas, and other features of interest.
There were several staterooms for the use of the young captain and the passengers, an observation and steering tower, a living-room, where they could all assemble as the ship was sailing through the air, and a completely equipped kitchen.
This last was Mr. Damon’s special pride, as he was a sort of cook, and he liked nothing better than to get up a meal when the craft was two or three miles high, and scudding along at seventy-five miles an hour.
In addition there were to be taken along many scientific instruments, weapons of defense and offense, in addition to the electric rifle, and various other objects which will be spoken of in due time.
“Well,” remarked Tom Swift one afternoon, following a hard day’s work in the shop, “I think, if all goes well, and we have good weather, I’ll give the Black Hawk a trial tomorrow.”
“Do you think it will fly?” asked Ned.
“There is no telling,” was the answer of the young inventor. “These things are more or less guesswork, even when you make two exactly alike. As far as I can tell, we have now a better craft than the Red Cloud was, but it remains to be seen how she will behave.”
They worked late that night, putting the finishing touches on the Black Hawk, and in the morning the new airship was wheeled out of the shed, and placed on the level starting ground, ready for the trial flight.
Only the bare machinery was in her, as yet, and the gas bag had not been inflated as Tom wanted to try the plane feature first. But the vapor machine was all ready to start generating the gas whenever it was needed. Nor was the Black Hawk painted and decorated as she would be when ready to be sent to Africa. On the whole, she looked rather crude as she rested there on the bicycle wheels, awaiting the starting of the big propellers. As the stores and supplies were not yet in, Tom took aboard, in addition to Mr. Damon, Ned, his father, Mr. Jackson and Mr. Durban, some bags of sand to represent the extra weight that would have to be carried.
“If she’ll rise with this load she’ll do,” announced the young inventor, as he went carefully over the craft, looking to see that everything was in shape.
“If she does rise it will be a new experience for me,” spoke the old elephant hunter. “I’ve never been in an airship before. It doesn’t seem possible that we can get up in the air with this machine.”
“Maybe we won’t,” spoke Tom, who was always a little diffident about a new piece of machinery.
“Well, if it doesn’t do it the first time, it will the second, or the fifty-second,” declared Ned Newton. “Tom Swift doesn’t give up until he succeeds.”
“Stop it! You’ll make me blush!” cried the Black Hawk’s owner as he tried the different gages and levers to see that they were all right.
After what seemed like a long time he gave the word for those who were to make the trial trip to take their places. They did so, and then, with Mr. Jackson, Tom went to the engine room. There was a little delay, due to the fact that some adjustment was necessary on the main motor. But at last it was fixed.
“Are you all ready?” called Tom.
“All ready,” answered Mr. Damon. The old elephant hunter sat in a chair, nervously gripping the arms, and with a grim look on his tanned face. Mr. Swift was cool, as Ned, for they had made many trips in the air. Outside were Eradicate Sampson and Mrs. Baggert.
“Here we go!” suddenly cried Tom, and he yanked over the lever that started the main motor and propellers. The Black Hawk trembled throughout her entire length. She shivered and shook. Faster and faster whirled the great wooden screws. The motor hummed and throbbed.
Slowly the Black Hawk moved across the ground. Then she gathered speed. Now she was fairly rushing over the level space. Tom Swift tilted the elevation rudder, and with a suddenness that was startling, at least to the old elephant hunter, the new airship shot upward on a steep slant.
“The Black Hawk flies!” yelled Ned Newton. “Now for elephant land and the big tusks!”
“Yes, and perhaps for the red pygmies, too,” added Tom in a low voice. Then he gave his whole attention to the management of his new machine, which was rapidly mounting upward, with a speed rivalling that of his former big craft.
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Higher and higher went the Black Hawk, far above the earth, until the old elephant hunter, looking down, said in a voice which he tried to make calm and collected, but which trembled in spite of himself:
“Of course I’m not an expert at this game, Tom Swift, but it looks to me as if we’d never get down. Don’t you think we’re high enough?”
“For the time being, yes,” answered the young inventor. “I didn’t think she’d climb so far without the use of the gas. She’s doing well.”
“Bless my topknot, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “She beats the Red Cloud, Tom. Try her on a straight-away course.”
Which the youth did, pointing the nose of the craft along parallel to the surface of the earth, and nearly a mile above it. Then, increasing the speed of the motor, and with the big propellers humming, they made fast time.
The old elephant hunter grew more calm as he saw that the airship did not show any inclination to fall, and he noted that Tom and the others not only knew how to manage it, but took their flight as much a matter of course as if they were in an automobile skimming along on the surface of the ground.
Tom put his craft through a number of evolutions, and when he found that she was in perfect control as an aeroplane, he started the gas machine, filled the big black bag overhead, and, when it was sufficiently buoyant, he shut off the motor, and the Black Hawk floated along like a balloon.
“That’s what we’ll do if our power happens to give out when we get over an African jungle, with a whole lot of wild elephants down below, and a forest full of the red pygmies waiting for us,” explained Tom to Mr. Durban.
“And I guess you’ll need to do it, too,” answered the hunter. “I don’t know which I fear worse, the bad elephants wild with rage, as they get some times, or the little red men who are as strong as gorillas, and as savage as wolves. It would be all up with us if we got into their hands. But I think this airship will be just what we need in Africa. I’d have been able to get out of many a tight place if I had had one on my last trip.”
While the Black Hawk hung thus, up the air, not moving, save as the wind blew her, Tom with his father and Mr. Jackson made an inspection of the machinery to find out whether it had been strained any. They found that it had worked perfectly, and soon the craft was in motion again, her nose this time being pointed toward the earth. Tom let out some of the gas, and soon the airship was on the ground in front of the shed she had so recently left.
“She’s all right,” decided the young inventor after a careful inspection. “I’ll give her a couple more trials, put on the finishing touches and then we’ll be ready for our trip to Africa. Have you got everything arranged to go, Ned?”
“Sure. I have a leave of absence from the bank, thanks to your father and Mr. Damon, most of my clothes are packed, I’ve bought a gun and I’ve got a lot of quinine in case I get a fever.”
“Good!” cried the elephant hunter. “You’ll do all right, I reckon. I’m glad I met you young fellows. Well, I’ve lived through my first trip in the air, which is more than I expected when I started.”
They discussed their plans at some length, for, now that the airship had proved all that they had hoped for, it would not be long ere they were under way. In the days that followed Tom put the finishing touches on the craft, arranged to have it packed up for shipment, and spent some time practicing with his electric rifle. He got to be an expert shot, and Mr. Durban, who was a wonder with the ordinary rifle, praised the young inventor highly.
“There won’t be many of the big tuskers get away from you, Tom Swift,” he said. “And that reminds me, I got a letter the other day, from the firm I collect ivory for, stating that the price had risen because of a scarcity, and urging me to hurry back to Africa and get all I could. It seems that war has broken out among some of the central African tribes, and they are journeying about in the jungle, on the war path here and there, and have driven the elephants into the very deepest wilds, where the ordinary hunters can’t get at them.”
“Maybe we won’t have any luck, either,” suggested Ned.
“Oh, yes, we will,” declared the hunter. “With our airship, the worst forest of the dark continent won’t have any terrors for us, for we can float above it. And the fights of the natives won’t have any effect. In a way, this will be a good thing, for with the price of ivory soaring, we can make more money than otherwise. There’s a chance for us all to get a lot of money.”
“Bless my piano keys!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, “if I can get just one elephant, and pull out his big ivory teeth, I’ll be satisfied. I want a nice pair of tusks to set up on either side of my fireplace for ornaments.”
“A mighty queer place for such-like ornaments,” said Mr. Durban in a low voice. Then he added: “Well, the sooner we get started the better I’ll like it, for I want to get that pair of big tusks for a special customer of mine.”
“I’ll give the Black Hawk one more trial flight, and then take her apart and ship her,” decided Tom, and the final flight, a most successful one, took place the following day.
Then came another busy season when the airship was taken apart for shipment to the coast of Africa by steamer. It was put into big boxes and crates, and Eradicate and his mule took them to the station in Shopton.
“Don’t you want to come to Africa with us, Rad?” asked Tom, when the last of the cases had been sent off. “You’ll find a lot of your friends there.”
“No, indeedy, I doan’t want t’ go,” answered the colored man, “though I would like to see dat country.”
“Then why don’t you come?”
“Hu! Yo’ think, Massa Tom, dat I go anywhere dat I might meet dem little red men what Massa Durban talk about? No, sah, dey might hurt mah mule Boomerang.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to take the mule along,” said Tom, wondering how the creature might behave in the airship.
“Not take Boomerang? Den I SUTTINLY ain’t goin,” and Eradicate walked off, highly offended, to give some oats to his faithful if somewhat eccentric steed.
After the airship had been sent off there yet remained much for Tom Swift to do. He had to send along a number of special tools and appliances with which to put the ship together again, and also some with which to repair the craft in case of accident. So that this time was pretty well occupied. But at length everything was in readiness, and with his electric rifle knocked down for transportation, and with his baggage, and that of the others, all packed, they set off one morning to take the train for New York, where they would get a steamer for Africa.
Numerous good-bys had been said, and Tom had made a farewell call on Mary Nestor, promising to bring her some trophy from elephant land, though he did not quite know what it would be.
Mr. Damon, as the train started, blessed everything he could think of. Mr. Swift waved his hand and wished his son and the others good luck, feeling a little lonesome that he could not make one of the party. Ned was eager with excitement, and anticipation of what lay before him. Tom Swift was thinking of what he could accomplish with his electric rifle, and of the wonderful sights he would see, and, as for the old elephant hunter, he was very glad to be on the move again, after so many weeks of idleness, for he was a very active man.
Their journey to New York was uneventful, and they found that the parts of the airship had safely arrived, and had been taken aboard the steamer. The little party went aboard themselves, after a day spent in sight-seeing, and that afternoon the Soudalar, which was the vessel’s name, steamed away from the dock at high tide.
“Off for Africa!” exclaimed Tom to Ned, as they stood at the rail, watching the usual crowd wave farewells. “Off for Africa, Ned.”
As Tom spoke, a gentleman who had been standing near him and his chum, vigorously waving his hand to some one on the pier, turned quickly. He looked sharply at the young inventor for a moment, and then exclaimed:
“Well, if it isn’t Tom Swift! Did I hear you say you were going to Africa?”
Tom looked at the gentleman with rather a puzzled air for a moment. The face was vaguely familiar, but Tom could not recall where he had seen it. Then it came to him in a flash.
“Mr. Floyd Anderson!” exclaimed our hero. “Mr. Anderson of—”
“Earthquake Island!” exclaimed the gentleman quickly, as he extended his hand. “I guess you remember that place, Tom Swift.”
“Indeed I do. And to think of meeting you again, and on this African steamer,” and Tom’s mind went back to the perilous days when his wireless message had saved the castaways of Earthquake Island, among whom were Mr. Anderson and his wife.
“Did I hear you say you were going to Africa?” asked Mr. Anderson, when he had been introduced to Ned, and the others in Tom’s party.
“That’s where we’re bound for,” answered the lad. “We are going to elephant land. But where are you going, Mr. Anderson?”
“Also to Africa, but not on a trip for pleasure or profit like yourselves. I have been commissioned by a missionary society to rescue two of its workers from the heart of the dark continent.”
“Rescue two missionaries?” exclaimed Tom, wonderingly.
“Yes, a gentleman and his wife, who, it is reported, have fallen into the hands of a race known as the red pygmies, who hold them captives!”
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Surprise at Mr. Anderson’s announcement held Tom silent for a moment. That the gentleman whom he had been the means of rescuing, among others, from Earthquake Island, should be met with so unexpectedly, was quite a coincidence, but when it developed that he was bound to the same part of the African continent as were Tom and his friends, and when he said he hoped to rescue some missionaries from the very red pygmies so feared by the old elephant hunter—this was enough to startle any one.
“I see that my announcement has astonished you,” said Mr. Anderson, as he noted the look of surprise on the face of the young inventor.
“It certainly has! Why, that’s where we are bound for, in my new airship. Come down into our cabin, Mr. Anderson, and tell us all about it. Is your wife with you?”
“No, it is too dangerous a journey on which to take her. I have little hope of succeeding, for it is now some time since the unfortunate missionaries were captured, but I am going to do my best, and organize a relief expedition when I get to Africa.”
Tom said nothing at that moment, but he made up his mind that if it was at all possible he would lend his aid, that of his airship, and also get his friends to assist Mr. Anderson. They went below to a special cabin that had been reserved for Tom’s party, and there, as the ship slowly passed down New York Bay, Mr. Anderson told his story.
“I mentioned to you, when we were on Earthquake Island,” he said to Tom, “that I had been in Africa, and had done some hunting. That is not my calling, as it is that of your friend, Mr. Durban, but I know the country pretty well. However, I have not been there in some time.”
“My wife and I are connected with a church in New York that, several years ago, raised a fund and sent two missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Illingway, to the heart of Africa. They built up a little mission there, and for a time all went well, and they did good work among the natives.”
“They are established in a tribe of friendly black men, of simple nature, and, while the natives did not become Christianized to any remarkable extent, yet they were kind to the missionaries. Mr. and Mrs. Illingway used frequently to write to members of our church, telling of their work. They also mentioned the fact that adjoining the country of the friendly blacks there was a tribe of fierce little red men,—red because of hair of that color all over their bodies.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Durban, shaking his head solemnly. “They’re red imps, too!”
“Mr. Illingway often mentioned in his letters,” went on Mr. Anderson, “that there were frequent fights between the pygmies and the race of blacks, but the latter had no great fear of their small enemies. However, it seems that they did not take proper precautions, for not long ago there was a great battle, the blacks were attacked by a large force of the red pygmies, who overwhelmed them by numbers, and finally routed them, taking possession of their country.”
“What became of the missionaries?” asked Ned Newton.
“I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Anderson. “For a long time we heard nothing, beyond the mere news of the fight, which we read of in the papers. The church people were very anxious about the fate of Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, and were talking of sending a special messenger to inquire about them, when a cablegram came from the headquarters of the society in London.”
“It seems that one of the black natives, named Tomba, who was a sort of house servant to Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, escaped the general massacre, in which all his friends were killed. He made his way through the jungle to a white settlement, and told his story, relating how the two missionaries had been carried away captive by the pygmies.”
“A terrible fate,” commented Mr. Durban.
“Yes, they might better be dead, from all the accounts we can hear,” went on Mr. Anderson.
“Bless my Sunday hat! Don’t say that!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Maybe we can save them, Mr. Anderson.”
“That is what I am going to try to do, though it may be too late. As soon as definite news was received, our church held a meeting, raised a fund, and decided to send me off to find Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, if alive, or give them decent burial, if I could locate their bones. The reason they selected me was because I had been in Africa, and knew the country.”
“I made hurried arrangements, packed up, said good-by to my wife, and here I am. But to think of meeting you, Tom Swift! And to hear that you are also going to Africa. I wish I could command an airship for the rescue. It might be more easily accomplished!”
“That’s just what I was going to propose!” exclaimed Tom. “We are going to the land of the red pygmies, and while I have promised to help Mr. Durban in getting ivory, and while I want to try my electric rifle on big game, still we can do both, I think. You can depend on us, Mr. Anderson, and if the Black Hawk can be of any service to you in the rescue, count us in!”
“Gosh!” cried the former castaway of Earthquake Island. “This is the best piece of luck I could have! Now tell me all about your plans.” which Tom and the others did, listening in turn, to further details about the missionaries.
Just how they would go to work to effect the rescue, or how they could locate the particular tribe of little red men who had Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, they did not know.
“We may be able to get hold of this Tomba,” said Mr. Durban. “If not I guess between Mr. Anderson and myself we can get on the trail, somehow. I’m anxious to get to the coast, see the airship put together again, and start for the interior.”
“So am I,” declared Tom, as he got out his electric rifle, and began to put it together, for he wanted to show Mr. Anderson how it worked.
They had a pleasant and uneventful voyage for two weeks. The weather was good, and, to tell the truth, it was rather monotonous for Tom and the others, who were eager to get into activity again. Then came a storm, which, while it was not dangerous, yet gave them plenty to think and talk about for three days. Then came more calm weather, when the Soudalar plowed along over gently heaving billows.
They were about a week from their port of destination, which was Majumba, on the African coast, when, one afternoon, as Tom and the others were in their cabin, they heard a series of shouts on deck, and the sound of many feet running to and fro.
“Something has happened!” exclaimed the young inventor.
Tom raced for the companionway, and was soon on deck, followed by Mr. Durban and the others. They saw a crowd of sailors and passengers leaning over the port rail.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, of the second mate, who was just passing.
“Fight between a killer and a whale,” was the reply. “The captain has ordered the ship to lay-to so it can be watched.”
Tom made his way to the rail. About a quarter of a mile away there could be observed a great commotion in the ocean. Great bodies seemed to be threshing about, beating the water to foam, and, with the foam could be seen bright blood mingled. Occasionally two jets of water, as from some small fountain, would shoot upward.
“He’s blowing hard!” exclaimed one of the sailors. “I guess he’s about done for!”
“Which one?” asked Tom.
“The whale,” was the reply. “The killer has the best of the big fellow,” and the sailor quickly explained how the smaller killer fish, by the peculiarity of its attack, and its great ferocity, often bested its larger antagonist.
The battle was now at its height, and Tom and the others were interested spectators. At times neither of the big creatures could be seen, because of the smother of foam in which they rolled and threshed about. The whale endeavored to sound, or go to the bottom, but the killer stuck to him relentlessly.
Suddenly, however, as Tom looked, the whale, by a stroke of his broad tail, momentarily stunned his antagonist. Instantly realizing that he was free the great creature, which was about ninety feet long, darted away, swimming on the surface of the water, for he needed to get all the air possible.
Quickly acquiring momentum, the whale came on like a locomotive, spouting at intervals, the vapor from the blowholes looking not unlike steam from some submarine boat.
“He looks to be heading this way,” remarked Mr. Durban to Tom.
“He is,” agreed the young inventor, “but I guess he’ll dive before he gets here. He only wants to get away from the killer. Look, the other one is swimming this way, too!”
“Bless my harpoon, but he sure is!” called Mr. Damon. “They’ll renew the fight near here.”
But he was mistaken, for the killer, after coming a little distance after the whale, suddenly turned, hesitated for a moment, and then disappeared in the depths of the ocean.
The whale, however, continued to come on, speeding through the water with powerful strokes. There was an uneasy movement among some of the passengers.
“Suppose he strikes the ship,” suggested one woman.
“Nonsense! He couldn’t,” said her husband.
“The old man had better get under way, just the same,” remarked a sailor near Tom, as he looked up at the bridge where the captain was standing.
The “old man,” or commander, evidently thought the same thing, for, after a glance at the oncoming leviathan, which was still headed directly for the vessel, he shoved the lever of the telegraph signal over to “full speed ahead.”
Hardly had he done so than the whale sank from sight.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed the woman who had first spoken of the possibility of the whale hitting the ship, “I am afraid of those terrible creatures.”
“They’re as harmless as a cow, unless they get angry,” said her husband.
Slowly the great ship began to move through the water. Tom and his friends were about to go back to their cabin, for they thought the excitement over, when, as the young inventor turned from the rail, he felt a vibration throughout the whole length of the steamer, as if it had hit on a sand-bar.
Instantly there was a jangling of bells in the engine room, and the Soudalar lost headway.
“What’s the matter?” asked several persons.
They were answered a moment later, for the big whale, even though grievously wounded in his fight with the killer, had risen not a hundred feet away from the ship, and was coming toward it with the speed of an express train.
“Bless my blubber!” cried Mr. Damon. “We must have hit the whale, or it hit us under the water and now it’s going to attack us!”
He had no more than gotten the words out of his mouth ere the great creature of the deep came on full tilt at the vessel, struck it a terrific blow which made it tremble from stem to stern, and careen violently.
There was a chorus of frightened cries, sailors rushed to and fro, the engine-room bells rang violently, and the captain and mates shouted hoarse orders.
“Here he comes again!” yelled Mr. Durban, as he hurried to the side of the ship. “The whale takes us for an enemy, I guess, and he’s going to ram us again!”
“And if he does it many times, he’ll start the plates and cause a leak that won’t be stopped in a hurry!” cried a sailor as he rushed past Tom.
The young inventor looked at the oncoming monster for a moment, and then started on the run for his cabin.
“Here! Where are you going?” cried Mr. Damon, but Tom did not answer.
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As Tom Swift hurried down the companionway he again felt the ship careen as the whale struck it a powerful blow, and he was almost knocked off his feet. But he kept on.
Below he found some frightened men and women, a number of whom were adjusting life preservers about them, under the impression that the ship had struck a rock and was going down. They had not been up on deck, and did not know of the battle between the killer and the whale, nor what followed.
“Oh, I know we’re sinking!” cried one timid woman. “What has happened?” she appealed to Tom.
“It will be all right in a little while,” he assured her.
“But what is it? I want to know. Have we had a collision.”
“Yes, with a whale,” replied Tom, as he grabbed up something from his stateroom, and again rushed up on deck. As he reached it the whale came on once more, and struck the ship another terrific blow. Then the monster sank and could be seen swimming back, just under the surface of the water, getting ready to renew the attack.
“He’s going to ram us again!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my machine oil! Why doesn’t the captain do something?”
At that moment the commander cried from the bridge:
“Send a man below, Mr. Laster, to see if we are making any water. Then tell half a dozen of the sailors to get out the rifles, and see if they can’t kill the beast. He’ll put us in Davy Jones’s locker if he keeps this up! Lively now, men!”
The first mate, Mr. Laster, called out the order. A sailor went below to see if the ship was leaking much, and the captain rang for full speed ahead. But the Soudalar was slow in getting under way again, and, even at top speed she was no match for the whale, which was again rushing toward the vessel.
“Quick with those rifles!” cried the captain. “Fire a volley into the beast!”
“There’s no need!” suddenly called Mr. Damon, who had caught sight of Tom Swift, and the object which the lad carried.
“No need?” demanded the commander. “Why, has the whale sunk, or made off?”
“No,” answered the eccentric man, “the whale is still coming on, but Tom Swift will fix him. Get there, Tom, and let him have a good one!”
“What sort of a gun is that?” demanded the commander as the young inventor took his place at the rail, which was now almost deserted.
Tom did not answer. Bracing himself against the rolling and heaving of the vessel, which was now under about half speed, Tom aimed his electric rifle at the oncoming leviathan. He looked at the automatic gage, noted the distance and waiting a moment until the crest of a wave in front of the whale had subsided, he pressed the button.
If those watching him expected to hear a loud report, and see a flash of flame, they were disappointed. There was absolutely no sound, but what happened to the whale was most surprising.
The great animal stopped short amid a swirl of foam, and the next instant it seemed to disintegrate. It went all to pieces, just as had the dummy figure which Tom on one occasion fired at with his rifle and as had the big packing-cases. The whale appeared to dissolve, as does a lump of sugar in a cup of hot tea, and, five seconds after Tom Swift had fired his electric gun, there was not a sign of the monster save a little blood on the calm sea.
“What—what happened?” asked the captain in bewilderment. “Is—is that monster gone?”
“Completely gone!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my powder horn, Tom, but I knew you could do it!”
“Is that a new kind of whale gun, firing an explosive bullet?” inquired the commander, as he came down off the bridge and shook hands with Tom. “If it is, I’d like to buy one. We may be rammed again by another whale.”
“This is my new, electric rifle,” explained the young inventor modestly, “and it fires wireless charges of electricity instead of bullets. I’m sorry I can’t let you have it, as it’s the only one I have. But I guess no more whales will ram us. That one was evidently crazed by the attack of the killer, and doubtless took us for another of its enemies.”
Sailors and passengers crowded around Tom, eager to shake his hand, and to hear about the gun. Many declared that he had saved the ship.
This was hardly true, for the whale could not have kept up its attacks much longer. Still he might have done serious damage, by causing a leak, and, while the Soudalar was a stanch craft, with many water-tight compartments, still no captain likes to be a week from land with a bad leak, especially if a storm comes up. Then, too, there was the danger of a panic among the passengers, had the attacks been kept up, so, though Tom wanted to make light of his feat, the others would not let him.
“You’re entitled to the thanks of all on board,” declared Captain Wendon, “and I’ll see that the owners hear of what you did. Well, I guess we can go on, now. I’ll not stop again to see a fight between a killer and a whale.”
The steamer resumed her way at full speed, and the sailor, who had gone below, came up to report that there was only a slight leak, which need not cause any uneasiness.
Little was talked of for the next few days but the killing of the whale, and Tom had to give several exhibitions of his electric rifle, and explain its workings. Then, too, the story of his expedition became known, and also the object of Mr. Anderson’s quest, and Tom’s offer of aid to help rescue the missionaries, so that, altogether, our hero was made much of during the remainder of the voyage.
“Well, if your gun will do that to a whale, what will it do to an elephant?” asked Mr. Durban one morning, when they were within a day’s steaming of their port. “I’m afraid it’s almost too strong, Tom. It will leave nothing—not even the tusks to pick up.”
“Oh, I can regulate the power,” declared the lad. “I used full force on the whale, just to see what it would do. It was the first time I’d tried it on anything alive. I can so regulate the charge that it will kill even an elephant, and leave scarcely a mark on the beast.”
“I’d like to see it done,” remarked the old hunter.
“I’ll show you, if we sight any sharks,” promised Tom. He was able to keep his word for that afternoon a school of the ugly fish followed the steamer for the sake of the food scraps thrown overboard. Tom took his position in the stern, and gave an exhibition of shooting with his electric gun that satisfied even Mr. Durban, exacting as he was.
For the lad, by using his heaviest charges, destroyed the largest sharks so that they seemed to instantly disappear in the water, and from that he toned down the current until he could kill some of the monsters so easily and quickly that they seemed to float motionless on the surface, yet there was no life left in them once the electric charge touched them.
“We’ll use the light charges when we’re killing elephants for their tusks,” said Tom, “and the heavy ones when we’re in danger from a rush of the beasts.”
He little knew how soon he would have to put his plan into effect.
They arrived safely at Majumba, the African coast city, and for two days Tom was kept busy superintending the unloading of the parts of his airship. But it was safely taken ashore, and he and his friends hired a disused warehouse in which to work at reassembling the Black Hawk.
Tom had everything down to a system, and, in less than a week the aircraft was once more ready to be sent aloft. It was given a try-out, much to the astonishment of the natives, and worked perfectly. Then Tom and his friends busied themselves laying in a stock of provisions and stores for the trip into the interior.
They made inquiries about the chances of getting ivory and were told that they were good if they went far enough into the jungle and forests, for the big beasts had penetrated farther and farther inland.
They also tried to get some news regarding the captive missionaries, but were unsuccessful nor could they learn what had become of Tomba, who had brought the dire news to civilization.
“It’s too soon to hope for anything yet,” said Mr. Anderson. “Wait until we get near the country of the red pygmies.”
“And then it may be too late,” said Tom in a low voice.
It was two weeks after their arrival in Majumba that Tom announced that all was in readiness. The airship was in perfect working order, it was well stocked with food, arms, articles and trinkets with which to trade among the natives, spare parts for the machinery, special tools and a good supply of the chemicals needed to manufacture the lifting gas.
Of course Tom did not leave behind his electric weapon and Mr. Durban and the others took plenty of ammunition for the ordinary rifles which they carried.
One morning, after cabling to his father that they were about to start, Tom gave a last careful look to his airship, tested the motor and dynamos, took a hasty survey of the storeroom, to see that nothing had been forgotten, and gave the word to get aboard.
They took their places in the cabin. Outside a crowd of natives, and white traders of many nationalities had gathered. Tom pulled the starting lever. The Black Hawk shot across a specially prepared starting ground, and, attaining sufficient momentum, suddenly arose into the air.
There was a cheer from the watching crowd, and several superstitious blacks, who saw the airship for the first time, ran away in terror.
Up into the blue atmosphere Tom took his craft. He looked down on the city over which he was flying. Then he pointed the prow of the Black Hawk toward the heart of the dark continent.
“Off for the interior!” he murmured. “I wonder if we’ll ever get out again?”
No one could answer. They had to take their chances with the dangers and terrors of elephant land, and with the red pygmies. Yet Tom Swift was not afraid.
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With the voyage on the steamer, their arrival in Africa, the many strange sights of the city of Majumba, and the refitting of the airship, our friends had hardly had time to catch their breath since Tom Swift’s determination to go elephant hunting. Now, as the Black Hawk was speeding into the interior, they felt, for the first time in many weeks, that they “could take it easy,” as Ned Newton expressed it.
“Thank goodness,” said the bank clerk, “I can sit down and look at something for a while,” and he gazed out of the main cabin windows down at the wild country over which they were then flying.
For, so swiftly had the airship moved that it was hardly any time at all before it had left Majumba far behind, and was scudding over the wilderness.
“Bless my camera,” exclaimed Mr. Damon, who had brought along one of the picture machines, “bless my camera! I don’t call that much to look at,” and he pointed to the almost impenetrable forest over which they then were.
“No, it isn’t much of a view,” said the old elephant hunter, “but wait. You’ll soon see all you want to. Africa isn’t all like this. There are many strange sights before us yet. But, Tom Swift, tell us how the airship is working in this climate. Do you find any difficulty managing it?”
“Not at all,” answered Tom, who was in the cabin then, having set the automatic steering apparatus in the pilot house, and come back to join the others. “It works as well as it did in good old York State. Of course I can’t tell what affect the continual hot and moist air will have on the gas bag, but I guess we’ll make out all right.”
“I certainly hope so,” put in Mr. Anderson. “It would be too bad to be wrecked in the middle of Africa, with no way to get out.”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” said Ned with a laugh. “If the airship should smash, Tom would build another out of what was left, and we’d sail away as good as before.”
“Hardly that,” answered the young inventor.
“But we won’t cross a bridge until we hear it coming, as Eradicate would say. Hello, that looks like some sort of native village.”
He pointed ahead to a little clearing in the forest, where a number of mud and grass huts were scattered about. As they came nearer they could see the black savages, naked save for a loin cloth, running about in great excitement, and pointing upward.
“Yes, that’s one of the numerous small native villages we’ll see from now on,” said Mr. Durban. “Many a night have I spent in those same grass huts after a day’s hunting. Sometimes, I’ve been comfortable, and again not. I guess we’ve given those fellows a scare.”
It did seem so, for by this time the whole population, including women and children, were running about like mad. Suddenly, from below there sounded a deep booming noise, which came plainly to the ears of the elephant hunters through the opened windows of the airship cabin.
“Hark! What’s that?” cried Tom, raising his hand for silence.
“Bless my umbrella! it sounds like thunder,” said Mr. Damon.
“No, it’s one of their war drums,” explained Mr. Durban. “The natives make large ones out of hollow trees, with animal skins stretched over the ends, and they beat them to sound a warning, or before going into battle. It makes a great noise.”
“Do you think they want to fight us?” asked Ned, looking anxiously at Tom, and then toward where his rifle stood in a corner of the cabin.
“No, probably that drum was beaten by some of the native priests,” explained the hunter. “The natives are very superstitious, and likely they took us for an evil spirit, and wanted to drive us away.”
“Then we’ll hustle along out of their sight,” said Tom, as he went to the pilot house to increase the speed of the airship, for he had been letting it drift along slowly to enable the adventurers to view the country over which they were passing. A few minutes later, under the increased force of the machinery, the Black Hawk left the native village, and the crowd of frightened blacks, far behind.
The travelers passed over a succession of wild stretches of forest or jungle, high above big grassy plains, over low but rugged mountain ranges, and big rivers. Now and then they would cross some lake, on the calm surface of which could be made out natives, in big canoes, hollowed out from trees. In each case the blacks showed every appearance of fright at the sight of the airship throbbing along over their heads.
On passing over the lake, Ned Newton looked down and cried out excitedly:
“Look! Elephants! They’re in swimming, and the natives are shooting them! Now’s our chance, Tom!”
Mr. Anderson and Mr. Durban, after a quick glance, drew back laughing.
“Those are hippopotami!” exclaimed the old elephant man. “Good hunting, if you don’t care what you shoot, but not much sport in it. It will be some time yet before we see any elephants, boys.”
Ned was rather chagrined at his mistake, but the African travelers told him that any one, not familiar with the country, would have made it, especially in looking down from a great height.
They sailed along about half a mile above the earth, Tom gradually increasing the speed of the ship, as he found the machinery to be working well. Dinner was served as they were crossing a high grassy plateau, over which could be seen bounding a number of antelopes.
“Some of those would go good for a meal,” said Mr. Durban, after a pause during which he watched the graceful creatures.
“Then we’ll go down and get some for supper,” decided Tom, for in that hot climate it was impossible to carry fresh meat on the airship.
Accordingly, the Black Hawk was sent down, and came to rest in a natural clearing on the edge of the jungle. After waiting until the fierce heat of noonday was over, the travelers got out their rifles and, under the leadership of Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson, who was also an experienced hunter, they set off.
Game was plentiful, but as they could only eat a comparatively small quantity, and as it would not keep, they only shot what they needed. Tom had his electric rifle, but hesitated to use it, as Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson had each already bowled over a fine buck.
However, a chance came most unexpectedly, for, as they were passing along the banks of a little stream, which was almost hidden from view by thick weeds and rank grass, there was a sudden commotion in the bushes, and a fierce wild buffalo sprang out at the party.
There are few animals in Africa more dreaded by hunters than the wild buffalo, for the beast, with its spreading sharp horns is a formidable foe, and will seldom give up the attack until utterly unable to move. They are fierce and relentless.
“Look out!” yelled Mr. Durban. “To cover, everybody! If that beast gets after you it’s no fun! You and I will fire at him, Mr. Anderson!”
Mr. Durban raised his rifle, and pulled the trigger, but, for some reason, the weapon failed to go off. Mr. Anderson quickly raised his, but his foot slipped in a wet place and he fell. At that moment the buffalo, with a snort of rage, charged straight for the fallen man.
“Tom! your electric rifle!” yelled Ned Newton, but he need not have done so, for the young inventor was on the alert.
Taking instant aim, and adjusting his weapon for the heaviest charge, Tom fired at the advancing beast. The result was the same as in the case of the whale, the buffalo seemed to melt away. And it was stopped only just in time, too, for it was close to the prostrate Mr. Anderson, who had sprained his ankle slightly, and could not readily rise.
It was all over in a few seconds, but it was a tense time while it lasted.
“You saved my life again, Tom Swift,” said Mr. Anderson, as he limped toward our hero. “Once on Earthquake Island, and again now. I shan’t forget it,” and he shook hands with the young inventor.
The others congratulated Tom on his quick shot, and Mr. Damon, as usual blessed everything in sight, and the electric rifle especially.
They went back to the airship, taking the fresh meat with them, but on account of the injury to Mr. Anderson’s ankle could not make quick progress, so that it was almost dusk when they reached the craft.
“Well, we’ll have supper, and then start off,” proposed Tom, “I don’t think it would be wise to remain on the ground so near the jungle.”
“No’ it’s safer in the air,” agreed Mr. Durban. The meal was much enjoyed, especially the fresh meat, and, after it was over, Tom took his place in the pilot house to start the machinery, and send the airship aloft.
The motor hummed and throbbed, and the gas hissed into the bag, for the ground was not level enough to permit of a running start by means of the planes. Lights gleamed from the Black Hawk and the big search-lantern in front cast a dazzling finger of light into the black forest.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” called Ned, who heard the machinery in motion, but who could not feel the craft rising. “Why don’t you go up, Tom?”
“I’m trying to,” answered the young inventor. “Something seems to be the matter.” He pulled the speed lever over a few more notches, and increased the power of the gas machine. Still the Black Hawk did not rise.
“Bless my handkerchief box!” cried Mr. Damon, “what’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” answered Tom. “We seem to be held fast.”
He further increased the speed of the propellers, and the gas machine was set to make vapor at its fullest capacity, and force it into the bag. Still the craft was held to the earth.
“Maybe the gas has no effect in this climate,” called Ned.
“It can’t be that,” replied Tom. “The gas will operate anywhere. It worked all right today.”
Suddenly she airship moved up a little way, and then seemed to be pulled down again, hitting the ground with a bump.
“Something is holding us!” cried Tom. “We’re anchored to earth! I must see what it is!” and, catching up his electric rifle, he dashed out of the cabin.
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For a moment after Tom’s departure the others stared blankly at one another. They could hear the throbbing and hum of the machinery, and feel the thrill of the anchored airship. But they could not understand what the trouble was.
“We must help Tom!” cried Ned Newton at length as he caught up his rifle. “Maybe we are in the midst of a herd of elephants, and they have hold of the ship in their trunks.”
“It couldn’t be!” declared Mr. Durban, yet they soon discovered that Ned’s guess was nearer the truth then any of them had suspected at the time.
“We must help him, true enough!” declared Mr. Anderson, and he and the others followed Ned out on deck.
“Where are you Tom?” called his chum.
“Here.” was the answer. “I’m on the forward deck.”
“Do you see anything?”
“No, it’s too dark. Turn the search-light this way.”
“I will,” shouted Mr. Damon, and a moment later the gleam of the powerful lantern brought Tom clearly into view, as he stood on the small forward observation platform in the bow of the Black Hawk.
An instant later the young inventor let out a startled cry.
“What is it?” demanded Mr. Durban.
“An immense snake!” shouted Tom. “It’s wound around a tree, and partly twined around the ship! That’s why we couldn’t go up! I’m going to shoot it.”
They looked to where he pointed, and there, in the glare of the light, could be seen an immense python, fully twenty-five feet long, the forward part of its fat ugly body circled around the slender prow of the airship, while the folds of the tail were about a big tree.
Tom Swift raised his electric rifle, took quick aim, and, having set it to deliver a moderate charge, pressed the button. The result was surprising, for the snake being instantly killed the folds uncoiled and the ship shot upward, only, instead of rising on an even keel, the bow pointed toward the sky, while the stern was still fast to the earth. Tilted at an angle of forty-five degrees the Black Hawk was in a most peculiar position, and those standing on the deck began to slide along it.
“There’s another snake at the stern!” cried Mr. Damon as he grasped a brace to prevent falling off. “Bless my slippers! it’s the mate of the one you killed! Shoot the other one, Tom!”
The young inventor needed no urging. Making his way as best he could to the stern of the airship, he killed the second python, which was even larger than the first, and in an instant the Black Hawk shot upward, this time level, and as it should be. Things on board were soon righted, and the travelers could stand upright. High above the black jungle rose the craft, moving forward under the full power of the propellers, until Tom rushed into the engine room, and reduced speed.
“Well, talk about things happening!” exclaimed Ned, when they had somewhat recovered from the excitement. “I should say they were beginning with a vengeance!”
“That’s the way in Africa,” declared Mr. Durban. “It’s a curious country. Those pythons generally go in pairs, but it’s the first time I ever knew them to tackle an airship. They probably stay around here where there is plenty of small game for them, and very likely they merely anchored to our craft while waiting for a supper to come along.”
“It was a very odd thing,” said Tom. “I couldn’t imagine what held us. After this I’ll see that all is clear before I try to go up. Next time we may be held by a troop of baboons and it strains the machinery to have it pull against dead weight in that way.”
However, it was found no harm had resulted from this experience, and, after reducing the gas pressure, which was taking them too high, Tom set the automatic rudders.
“We’ll keep on at slow speed through the night,” he explained, “and in the morning we’ll be pretty well into the interior. Then we can lay our course for wherever we want to go. Where had we better head for?”
“I don’t want to interfere with your plans,” said Mr. Anderson, “but I would like to rescue those missionaries. But the trouble is, I don’t know just where to look for them. We couldn’t get much of a line in Majumba on where the country of the red pygmies is located. What do you think about it, Mr. Durban?”
“As far as elephant hunting goes we can probably do as well in the pygmy land as anywhere else,” answered the veteran, “and perhaps it will be well to head for that place. If we run across any elephant herds in the meanwhile, we can stop, get the ivory, and proceed.”
They discussed this plan at some length, and agreed that it was the best thing to do. Mr. Durban had a map of the country around the center of Africa, and he marked on it, as nearly as he could, the location of the pygmies’ country, while Mr. Anderson also had a chart, showing the location of the mission which had been wiped out of existence. It was in the midst of a wild and desolate region.
“We’ll do the best we can,” declared Tom, “and I think we’ll succeed. We ought to be there in about a week, if we have no bad luck.”
All that night the Black Hawk flew on over Africa, covering mile after mile, passing over jungle, forest, plains, rivers and lakes, and, doubtless, over many native villages, though they could not be seen.
Morning found the travelers above a great, grassy plain, dotted here and there with negro settlements which were separated by rivers, lakes or thin patches of forest.
“Well, we’ll speed up a bit,” decided Tom after breakfast, which was eaten to the weird accompaniment of hundreds of native warning-drums, beaten by the superstitious blacks.
Tom went to the engine room, and turned on more speed. He was about to go back to the pilot house, to set the automatic steering apparatus to coincide with the course mapped out, when there was a crash of metal, an ominous snapping and buzzing sound, followed by a sudden silence.
“What’s that?” cried Ned, who was in the motor compartment with his chum.
“Something’s gone wrong!” exclaimed the young inventor, as he sprang back toward the engine. The propellers had ceased revolving, and as there was no gas in the bag at that time, it having been decided to save the vapor for future needs, the Black Hawk began falling toward the earth.
“We’re going down!” yelled Ned.
“Yes, the main motor has broken!” exclaimed Tom. “We’ll have to descend to repair it.”
“Say!” yelled Mr. Damon, rushing in, “we’re right over a big African village! Are we going to fall among the natives?”
“It looks that way,” admitted Tom grimly, as he hastened to the pilot house to shift the wings so that the craft could glide easily to the ground.
“Bless my shoe blacking!” cried the eccentric man as he heard the beating of drums, and the shouts of the savages.
A little later the airship had settled into the midst of a crowd of Africans, who swarmed all about the craft.
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“Get ready with your guns, everybody!” cried the old elephant hunter, as he prepared to leave the cabin of the Black Hawk. “Tom Swift, don’t forget your electric rifle. There’ll be trouble soon!”
“Bless my cartridge belt!” gasped Mr. Damon. “Why? What will happen?”
“The natives,” answered Mr. Durban. “They’ll attack us sure as fate! See, already they’re getting out their bows and arrows, and blowguns! They’ll pierce the gas bag in a hundred places!”
“If they do, it will be a bad thing for us,” muttered Tom. “We can’t have that happen.”
He followed the old elephant hunter outside, and Mr. Anderson, Ned Newton and Mr. Damon trailed after, each one with a gun, while Tom had his electric weapon. The airship rested on its wheels on some level ground, just in front of a large hut, surrounded by a number of smaller ones. All about were the natives, tall, gaunt black men, hideous in their savagery, wearing only the loin cloth, and with their kinky hair stuck full of sticks, bones and other odd objects they presented a curious sight.
Some of them were dancing about, brandishing their weapons—clubs spears, bows, and arrows, or the long, slender blowguns, consisting merely of a hollow reed. Women and children there were, too, also dancing and leaping about, howling at the tops of their voices. Above the unearthly din could be heard the noise of the drums and tom-toms, while, as the adventurers drew up in front of their airship, there came a sort of chant, and a line of natives, dressed fantastically in the skins of beasts, came filing out of the large hut.
“The witch-doctors!” exclaimed Tom, who had read of them in African travel books.
“Are they going to attack us?” cried Ned.
“Bless my hymn book! I hope not!” came from Mr. Damon. “We wouldn’t have any chance at all in this horde of black men. I wish Eradicate Sampson and his mule Boomerang were here. Maybe he could talk their language, and tell them that we meant no harm.”
“If there’s any talking to be done, I guess our guns will have to do it,” said Tom grimly.
“I can speak a little of their language,” remarked Mr. Durban, “but what in the world are the beggars up to, anyhow? I supposed they’d send a volley of arrows at us, first shot, but they don’t seem to be going to do that.”
“No, they’re dancing around us,” said Tom.
“That’s it!” exclaimed Mr. Anderson. “I have it! Why didn’t I think of it before? The natives are welcoming us!”
“Welcoming us?” repeated Ned.
“Yes,” went on the missionary seeker. “They are doing a dance in our honor, and they have even called out the witch-doctors to do us homage.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Durban, who was listening to the chanting of the natives dressed in animal skins. “They take us for spirits from another land, and are making us welcome here. Listen, I’ll see if I can make out what else they are saying.”
The character of the shouts and chants changed abruptly, and the dancing increased in fervor, even the children throwing themselves wildly about. The witch-doctors ran around like so many maniacs, and it looked as much like an American Indian war dance as anything else.
“I’ve got it!” shouted Mr. Durban, for he had to call loudly to be heard above the din. “They are asking us to make it rain. It seems there has been a dry spell here, and their own rain-makers and witch-doctors haven’t been able to get a drop out of the sky. Now, they take it that we have come to help them. They think we are going to bring rain.”
“And if we don’t, what will happen?” asked Tom.
“Maybe they won’t be quite so glad to see us,” was the answer.
“Well, if they don’t mean war, we might as well put up our weapons,” suggested Mr. Anderson. “If they’re going to be friendly, so much the better, and if it should happen to rain while we’re here, they’d think we brought it, and we could have almost anything we wanted. Perhaps they have a store of ivory hidden away, Mr. Durban. Some of these tribes do.”
“It’s possible, but the chances for rain are very small. How long will we have to stay here, Tom Swift?” asked the elephant hunter anxiously.
“Well, perhaps I can get the motor mended in two or three days,” answered the young inventor.
“Then we’ll have to stay here in the meanwhile,” decided Mr. Durban. “Well, we’ll make the best of it. Ha, here comes the native king to do us honor,” and, as he spoke there came toward the airship a veritable giant of a black man, wearing a leopard skin as a royal garment, while on his head was a much battered derby hat, probably purchased at a fabulous price from some trader. The king, if such he could be called, was accompanied by a number of attendants and witch-doctors. In front walked a small man, who, as it developed, was an interpreter. The little cavalcade advanced close to the airship, and came to a halt. The king made a low bow, either to the craft or to the elephant hunters drawn up in front of it. His attendants followed his example, and then the interpreter began to speak.
Mr. Durban listened intently, made a brief answer to the little man, and then the elephant hunter’s face lighted up.
“It’s all right,” he said to Tom and the others. “The king takes us for wonderful spirits from another land. He welcomes us, says we can have whatever we want, and he begs us to make it rain. I have said we will do our best, and I have asked that some food be sent us. That’s always the first thing to do. We’ll be allowed to stay here in peace until Tom can mend the ship, and then we’ll hit the air trail again.”
The talk between Mr. Durban and the interpreter continued for some little time longer. Then the king went back to his hut, refusing, as Mr. Durban said, an invitation to come aboard and see how a modern airship was constructed. The natives, too, seemed anxious to give the craft a wide berth.
The excitement had quieted down now, and, in a short time a crowd of native women came toward the airship, bearing, in baskets on their heads, food of various kinds. There were bananas, some wild fruits, yams, big gourds of goats’ milk, some boiled and stewed flesh of young goats, nicely cooked, and other things, the nature of which could only be guessed at.
“Shall we eat this stuff, or stick to Mr. Damon’s cooking?” asked Tom.
“Oh, you’ll find this very good,” explained Mr. Durban. “I’ve eaten native cookery before. Some of it is excellent and as this appears to be very good, Mr. Damon can have a vacation while we are here.”
The old elephant hunter proved the correctness of his statement by beginning to eat, and soon all the travelers were partaking of the food left by the native women. They placed it down on the ground at a discreet distance from the airship, and hurriedly withdrew. But if the women and men were afraid, the children were not, and they were soon swarming about the ship, timidly touching the sides with their little black fingers, but not venturing on board.
Tom, with Ned and Mr. Damon to help him, began work on the motor right after dinner. He found the break to be worse than he had supposed, and knew that it would take at least four days to repair it.
Meanwhile the airship continued to be a source of wonder to the natives. They were always about it, save at night, but their admiration was a respectful one. The king was anxious for the rain-making incantations to begin, but Mr. Durban put him off.
“I don’t want to deceive these simple natives,” he said, “and for our own safety we can’t pretend to make rain, and fail. As soon as we have a chance we’ll slip away from here.”
But an unexpected happening made a change in their plans. It was on the afternoon of their third day in the native village, and Tom and his assistants were working hard at the motor. Suddenly there seemed to be great excitement in the vicinity of the king’s hut. A native had rushed into the village from the jungle, evidently with some news, for presently the whole place was in a turmoil.
Once more the king and his attendants filed out toward the airship. Once more the interpreter talked to Mr. Durban, who listened eagerly.
“By Jove! here’s our chance!” he cried to Tom, when the little man had finished.
“What is it?” asked the young inventor.
“A runner has just come in with news that a large herd of wild elephants is headed this way. The king is afraid the big beasts will trample down all their crops, as often occurs, and he begs us to go out and drive the animals away. It’s just what we want. Come on, Tom, and all of you. The airship will be safe here, for the natives think that to meddle with it would mean death or enchantment for then. We’ll get on our first elephant trail!”
The old hunter went into the cabin for his big game gun, while Tom hastened to get out his electric rifle. Now he would have a chance to try it on the powerful beasts which he had come to Africa to hunt.
Amid the excited and joyous shouts of the natives, the hunters filed out of the village, led by the dusky messenger who had brought the news of the elephants. And, as Tom and the others advanced, they could hear a distant trumpeting, and a crashing in the jungle that told of the near presence of the great animals.