The Flying Boat Part 21

"Couldn't we leave that alone, and trust to our speed on the water?"

Errington suggested.

"Rather risky. Unless the blackguards have got sick of waiting all night and sheered off, they'll spot us as soon as we take the river, and another shot might do for us altogether. No; we must mend the stay somehow, and then fly inland until we're out of harm's way--until the petrol gives out."

"But the stay must be welded; and we can't do that without hammering.

If the gunboat's crew are anywhere about they are sure to hear the row, and find us out in no time."

"We'll have to chance that," said Burroughs. "A worse thing is the want of proper tools. There's a hammer in the locker, but we haven't got a forge. We can make a fire in that old stove there; but we've no bellows, and we can never get heat enough without."

"Never say die. Where there's a stove there ought to be bellows. I'm going to look round. But work before breakfast, and no supper the night before, doesn't make you feel amiable, does it?"

"While you are looking for the bellows I'll stroll along the sh.o.r.e and find out what sort of a place we're on. It's just as well to know something about our whereabouts."

Burroughs walked past the sampan where Chung Pi had pa.s.sed the night. A thick white mist lay over the swamp, through which nothing was visible beyond two or three yards. Chung Pi was sitting in the sampan with his arms tightly folded. He seemed to have shrunk; Lo San and Chin Tai also were blue with hunger and cold. Burroughs felt sorry for them all.

"I regret having been compelled to inflict these inconveniences on you, n.o.ble captain," he said; "it is a pity our charms have not availed."

"Ah! If you had not gone back for the second talisman we should have been safe," said Chung Pi mournfully.

Burroughs had heard nothing about the second talisman, but he did not ask for an explanation, merely promising that Chung Pi should enjoy a substantial feast as soon as they reached Sui-Fu.

Proceeding along the sh.o.r.e, picking his way carefully because of the mist, he had walked for about a quarter of a mile when he came suddenly upon a sampan, and halted, fearing that it might belong to the enemy.

But as he stood there surrounded by the clinging fog, he heard Errington's voice apparently only a few yards away. The explanation flashed upon him at once. They were on a small island, encompa.s.sed by a continuous screen of reeds. This was in a measure rea.s.suring, for it diminished the risk of being discovered.

He moved forward. Errington saw a figure looming through the mist, and instantly challenged.

"It's all right, Pidge. I've made a tour of the place; it's an island.

Any luck?"

"Yes, I've found a cranky pair of bellows, very Chinese, in one of the huts. We can start our forge at once.... Hullo!"

The exclamation was provoked by the sound of a shot in the distance.

"What's that mean, I wonder?" said Burroughs.

"Don't know. Shooting a duck for breakfast, perhaps. It's pretty clear that the beggars haven't given us up. When we start hammering they'll hear us and are sure to find us out."

"Better carry the stove into one of the huts and shut yourself up there.

The sound will be deadened then. I wish now I'd brought my engineer; he'd have made a better job of it than you and Lo San; I can't help, I'm sorry to say; my wretched arm is as stiff as a poker."

"I've taken off the broken stay; half-an-hour's work ought to finish the job as soon as we get the fire going. This mist is a G.o.dsend; they can't see our smoke."

"Well, you take the two boys to lend a hand in the hut, while I keep an eye on Chung Pi and listen for the enemy."

The servants carried the stove and the broken stay into the largest of the huts. One of the others furnished plenty of wood for the fire, and in a few minutes they had a good blaze, and began the work of welding the stay. Burroughs was disconcerted to find that although the hut was shut up as closely as the ramshackle timbers allowed, the sound of hammering was distinctly audible outside. He sat on the sampan beside the dejected figure of Chung Pi, peering through the mist, and listening intently.

By and by he fancied he heard voices from the direction of the channel, and a few minutes afterwards the m.u.f.fled splash of paddles struck his ear. He waited until he was no longer in doubt that the sounds were approaching; then, taking Chung Pi by the sleeve, he hurried him up to the hut where the work was going on.

"They're coming this way, Pidge," he said. "Better knock off until we know what's happening."

"I'll take Lo San down to the sh.o.r.e," said Errington. "Let us hope they'll miss the place."

At the sh.o.r.e Errington and the Chinaman stood listening in silence. The sound of paddles was now distinctly audible, growing louder every moment. Presently there were mingled with it the high-toned voices of Chinamen.

"Can you hear what they say?" Errington whispered.

Lo San bent forward.

"He say 'Come this side,'" he whispered. "He savvy this place all same."

"How many boats?"

"My tinkee two piecee sampan. Hai! He say: 'This side bobbely; muss belongey place where tings belongey pilates.'"

Such fragments as these were alarming. The boats could not be more than thirty yards away, and it seemed as though one of the men knew of the pirates' lair, and having suspected that the hammering had proceeded thence, was trying to guide the party towards it. But gradually the sounds receded. Lo San heard one man suggest that they should go back to the s.h.i.+p. Apparently they had failed to find their way in the mist.

A more distant voice seemed to acquiesce in the suggestion, and the sounds died away until there was again complete silence.

Then Errington returned to the hut and resumed work on the stay, while Burroughs, this time leaving Chung Pi behind, went down to the sh.o.r.e to keep watch. The mist was gradually lifting; the screen of reeds facing the island first became visible, then a short stretch of the waterway that cut it in two. Little by little the whole prospect became clear; from behind came the dull hammering.

It was perhaps half-an-hour after Errington had recommenced work when Burroughs again caught the distant splash of oars. He instantly ran up to the hut and gave the word to cease work; then returned with Errington and Lo San to the sh.o.r.e. Nearer and nearer drew the sounds. There was no doubt that the pursuers were making in the direction of the island.

The watchers dropped down behind one of the stranded sampans and peered anxiously over the edge. If the approaching boat or boats came within sight of the island, to escape discovery was impossible. The Englishmen thought dismally of their chances if it came to a fight. They had a couple of revolvers; the Chinamen had their knives; but the pursuers, besides being more numerous, were without doubt completely armed. There could be only one end to the struggle, and there was no means of avoiding it. The stay was not completely repaired; it had to be refitted to the plane; and if the pursuers' boat held on its present course, as indicated by the growing sound, it must come within sight of the island long before the hydroplane could be got ready.

The voices of the approaching men now sounded so near that the watchers expected every moment their boat to glide into view on the waterway.

They heard even the swis.h.i.+ng of the rushes as the craft pushed its way among them. Suddenly there was a change. The sounds appeared to take a slightly different direction.

"He say, 'Muss belongey this side,'" whispered Lo San.

A few moments pa.s.sed, during which the sounds grew somewhat fainter.

Then they ceased abruptly: it was as if the men had suddenly found that which they sought. The silence continued, and Errington became alarmed.

What were the pursuers about? He felt that he must know. Whispering his intention to Burroughs, he stepped into the water, waded noiselessly across to the nearest bed of reeds, skirted the outer edge, and disappeared from view.

He had not gone more than a dozen yards when he guessed what had happened. The man who had professed to know the island had lost his way, as was very natural in a pa.s.sage that had many bewildering turns, with openings here and there among the reeds, which it must be difficult to distinguish one from another. The course which the boat had taken was plainly indicated by the bent and broken reeds among which it had been forced. Wading very cautiously in the same direction, and bending low, so that he was almost completely concealed, Errington in a few seconds saw with great surprise the nose of an empty boat projecting above the reeds, and apparently resting on dry land. The stern of the boat was hidden.

Instantly the explanation flashed upon him. The pursuers had lighted upon another patch of firm land, of which there were many dotted about the swamp, and imagining it to be the island of which they were in search, had gone ash.o.r.e to explore the place.

Errington wondered how large the patch of dry land might be. If it were no longer than the island on which the hydroplane was beached, the men would soon discover their mistake, return to the boat, and continue their search. It was almost incredible that they should then fail to find the other island, within thirty yards of them. Was it possible in any way to check them?

A sudden idea occurred to him. Retracing his steps through the icy cold water, he came to the sh.o.r.e where Burroughs was anxiously awaiting his return, and waded to the hydroplane. From this he took the boat-hook, a long light pole of bamboo. Then putting his fingers to his lips, he set off again through the water, in nervous dread lest, short as his absence had been, the pursuers had had time to come back to their boat.

To his great relief, when he reached the spot, n.o.body was in sight. The boat remained as he had left it. Standing concealed among the reeds, he thrust the boat-hook forward, and after a few seconds' groping caught the hidden stern of the boat and drew it gently towards him--slowly and carefully, so as to make the least possible noise. The boat had not been tied up. It slid down the shelving bank inch by inch until it floated. Errington drew it on, through the reeds, which rustled unavoidably as it pa.s.sed through them; then, turning his back, he towed it as rapidly as he could up the waterway towards his own island.

"Marooned, old chap," he said cheerfully to Burroughs, who started up in amazement. "But the water's deadly cold!"

CHAPTER XX