Uncharted Seas (21 page)

After breakfast they all went out on deck. It was very early still but the day had broken fine and the mist had lifted. Synolda was leading, and the second she stepped through the doorway of the lounge she grabbed at Luvia with a shrill exclamation.

‘Look, look, land!’

The others saw it almost at the same second, and in a cluster they rushed to the ship’s rail, staring out with eager eyes across the calm stretch of watery vegetation.

Now that the mist had dispersed land was clearly discernible. There were two pieces, one to the south-west, an irregular cape of greying colour, low on the horizon, which Luvia judged to be seven miles distant; and another larger stretch almost due south of them about five miles away. Between the two the weed showed unbroken, covering a channel some three miles in width.

De Brissac hurried back into the lounge to get his binoculars; Luvia ran up to the bridge. Two minutes later they were together there while the rest crowded round them pressing to hear what they could make out with their glasses of these islands in the middle of the weed continent.

‘No trees,’ murmured De Brissac, ‘and a shelving rocky-looking coast. Anything but hospitable, I’m afraid. The near island looks a good size, and I don’t know if it’s cloud, but I can see something which looks as though it might be higher ground some miles inland.’

‘Sure,’ agreed Luvia. ‘If it’s not cloud it might be a small, flat-topped mountain. No sign of habitation on either of them, though. Just a muddy foreshore and then rocks—not even a thorn-bush, as far as I can see.’

‘Sounds a bit disappointing,’ Basil murmured, ‘but don’t let’s get too depressed. Most coastlines are barren except just round the ports and fishing villages, yet often enough they conceal habitable areas inland. The climate here isn’t so bad and if we could only get ashore I should think there’s a chance we might find wild fruit trees, birds and game even if the place is uninhabited.’

Unity laughed uncertainly. ‘Perhaps, but we’ve got to get ashore, haven’t we?’

‘We’re still drifting,’ Luvia remarked, ‘and drifting in the direction of these islands. If only we don’t pass down the middle of the channel between them we might fix some way of getting ashore. I’m going aloft to the crow’s-nest. I’ll get a better look-see from there.’

He was away about twenty minutes, and when he rejoined them he said: ‘There’s a third island ‘way over towards the farther one—a bit more to the west. It’s only a few hundred yards in length and quite barren—low in the water too—I wouldn’t think its highest point is more than twenty feet above the weed. I could see trees on the biggest island, about half a mile inland, unless I’m much mistaken, so maybe there’s fruit and nuts to be had if we could get ashore.’

‘Focus on the other one,’ said De Brissac swiftly. ‘There’s movement of sorts just by the coastline on the eastern side of the point.’

They all strained their eyes in the direction he indicated. After a moment Luvia exclaimed: ‘Yep. I get you. On the point there nearest to the other island—tiny black specks that seem to be dancing up and down on the weed just off the shore.’

‘Perhaps they are more things like we saw yesterday,’ Synolda suggested, ‘you know, the queer beast with the big black body and head all in one and four spines for legs.’

Luvia lowered his glasses. ‘You’ve got it. That’s what they are. A whole swarm of them, and it looks as if they’re crossing the channel towards the island nearest us.’

For the best part of half an hour they remained clustered on the bridge passing the binoculars from hand to hand and studying the strange creatures in the far distance. As they approached the island it became easier to see them, and De Brissac estimated their number at well over a hundred. In front, leading the swarm, three of the animals appeared to be bunched together springing up from the weed simultaneously in a series of bounds as they crossed it. The rest were dotted about in an irregular formation behind.

A quarter of an hour later the swarm had almost reached the nearer island and individual creatures could be picked out clearly with the human eye. So far they had been coming towards the ship on a diagonal line, but now they turned a little to the eastward to cover the last hundred yards or so to the coast to which they had been moving.

Suddenly the watchers in the ship saw a short scrimmage take place among the three animals in front. Their stilt-like legs seemed to get mixed up; the one on the left toppled over and fell into the weed. The central creature detached itself, and swerving sharply, bounded away northwards towards the ship, while the third hopped about its fallen comrade endeavouring to raise it from the weed.

The swarm was still a long way off, but a sea breeze coming from the island carried a faint crying sound as the whole lot turned parallel to the coastline of the island and followed its leader in the direction of the
Gafelborg
.

‘They’re heading dead for us,’ Luvia grunted. ‘Wonder if they mean mischief.’

‘We’d better get out the arms and be on the safe side,’ De Brissac replied promptly.

The little crowd on the bridge scattered and ran down the ladders to the deck. Since the affray with the octopus on the previous day Luvia had kept handy the two Winchesters which he and De Brissac had used, but now he hurried along to the armament store with Largertöf and Basil, and got out the four others that the ship carried, with a good supply of ammunition.

De Brissac, Vicente and Luvia had pistols, so, with six rifles, there were nine firearms between the eleven men. In any other circumstance Luvia would have thought twice before arming Harlem Joe but, with over a hundred of these strange and probably hostile creatures advancing on the ship, he felt that he must take a chance, so only Corncob and Nudäa were left without weapons.

De Brissac, as a military man, took command of the situation and Luvia willingly allowed him to do so. The two girls were ordered to their cabins and told to lock themselves in; but neither of them would hear of going below and, when Unity pointed out that if they were shown how to handle the Winchesters they could act as loaders, it was agreed that they should remain with the men.

Luvia suggested they should divide themselves into three groups—one to hold the fo’c’sle, one the poop, and the third the bridge—but De Brissac overruled him, pointing out that a small party might be overwhelmed whereas if they concentrated the whole of their forces on the bridge, they would be in a much stronger position. It was unthinkable that the creatures had any means of attacking them other than with their claws and beaks, if they had them, so in one compact group the ship’s company would be better able to resist an assault.

The nine armed men took up their positions round the bridge rail on the side of the ship nearest to the oncoming swarm, while Nudäa, Corncob, Unity and Synolda stood just in the rear ready to reload their weapons.

By the time the arrangements were completed the strange
beasts had covered about half the distance between the island and the ship with the leading creature bounding along about a hundred yards ahead of the rest. The swarm presented a most curious spectacle as each of the creatures kept prodding the weed with its four ball-like feet and floating up into the air like a gigantic flea in slow motion. Their elongated bodies were now clearly perceptible, and the great black heads that rose above them each seemed as large as an Austin Seven. The leader of the swarm appeared to have a whitish blotch in the middle of its head, but the others showed no marking and in colour were a uniform blackish grey. They were within a mile of the ship when De Brissac suddenly sent up a shout:

‘
Mon Dieu
! I believe they are men.’

‘What the hell…’ exclaimed Basil.

‘Yes, yes,’ the Frenchman went on excitedly, ‘I am sure of it.
Regardez-moi-ça
! What we think are heads are not heads at all but big balloons, strapped on to the backs of their shoulders—and round ball-like feet—those are balloons also. The back legs, of each one are real legs fastened to stilts and the front legs which you see form angles near the body, are arms and things like ski-sticks.’

‘Holy Mike! You’re right.’ Luvia passed his glasses over to Basil. ‘They’re humans, sure enough, by all that’s wonderful! The balloons must be filled with gas, I reckon, to support their weight as they hop over this devilish weed.’

‘That’s it, that’s it,’ Basil muttered. ‘How positively extraordinary—no limit to the invention of man, is there? These are the inhabitants of the islands, evidently; as they can’t get from one to another by swimming or boats, because of the octopuses, they tap some natural gas to fill balloons and flit over the weed from place to place.’

‘Of course that’s it,’ Synolda added. ‘Have you ever done balloon-jumping? I have. It’s grand fun. You have a gas-filled envelope strapped to your back which just about carries your weight. One kick of your foot’s enough to send you ten feet in the air and right over a hedge. It’s best of all when you’re on top of a hill. You can kick off and sail gently down a couple of hundred yards of slope before landing again.’

While they were talking the irregular mob of island balloon-hoppers had covered another half-mile and their limbs could be made out quite clearly.

‘
Sacre Nom
!’ muttered De Brissac, ‘the one in front is a white
man. Look at his pale face and arms. The others are all blacks.’

‘White
woman
,’ corrected Unity, who had Luvia’s glasses. ‘She’s got long hair and a sort of short skirt that reaches only to her knees. The others, as you say, are all Negroes.’

‘D’you know what I believe?’ Basil said suddenly. ‘They’re not coming to attack us but are chasing the girl. She’s trying to escape from them. Remember how she broke away from two of the others just as they reached the island.’

‘Yes, yes,’ De Brissac took him up. ‘I can see terror on her face now and she looks constantly over her shoulder. Her lead, too, has much decreased. It is no more than twenty yards that she has in advance of the others.’

‘Oh, come on! Come on!’ Synolda began to shout in swift excitement. She swung round on Luvia: ‘Do something, do something quick! Why don’t you fire at those Negroes who’re after her?’

Luvia shook his head. ‘Hang on a minute. She’s leading still. We don’t want to scare her into thinking we’re hostile, and it’s a hundred to one against her speaking our language.’

Unity’s eyes were bright with anxiety. She clasped the bridge rail and stamped her foot impatiently. ‘Oh, the poor darling! She’s quite a little thing—almost a child—and pretty too.’

The girl from the island was now no more than a hundred yards away. The nearest Negro was springing along ten yards behind her. Not a sound came from the hunters or hunted. Their every effort was concentrated in straining on the stilts and ski-sticks which propelled them. The pursuing Negroes were almost naked and their powerful ebony bodies glistened with sweat as the grim chase proceeded in deadly silence.

De Brissac raised his Winchester. ‘Ready now? I’m going to give the leading black a warning shot through his balloon. If that doesn’t halt them you’ll each pick your man and come into action with my second shot. Aim for their balloons with the first round; we do not wish to take life unnecessarily.’

His rifle cracked. There was a soft answering plop as the bullet struck the balloon just above the Negro’s head. At fifty paces from the ship the whole line suddenly halted. Only the girl still came on. With one last bound she sailed into the air, tripped with her sticks on the ship’s rail, and came drifting head first, down on to the deck.

Unity ran towards the bridge ladder to go down and help her but De Brissac barked, ‘Stay where you are,’ and she halted, irresolute, at his order.

The blacks could not remain still as their gas balloons did not carry sufficient weight-lifting power to support them entirely. They came no nearer to the ship for the moment but hopped up and down in the weed presenting the queer spectacle of a great crowd of dancing Jennies.

Suddenly they began to yell in some strange unknown tongue, a series of barbarous, blood-curdling shrieks and, prodding the weed to get themselves into a rough line facing the ship, they bounded forward.

‘Fire!’ yelled De Brissac and a burst of flame flashed from the line of weapons on the bridge.

One Negro staggered and fell. The other bullets went wide or hit the balloons, but the volley did not stop the charge.

‘Independent fire. Aim for the men,’ shouted De Brissac, and an uneven crackle of rifle and revolver fire came in response to his order.

Half a dozen of the Negroes lurched, spun about and went headlong into the weed, but at least fifty had reached the ship and, clinging to its rails, were untying the cords that attached their feet to the awkward stilts. All of them were naked except for a loin cloth, and belts in which each carried an array of primitive but ugly weapons: knobkerries, long knives, assegais, and here and there an old-fashioned sword. Brutal and screaming their war cries, the savages swarmed on to the decks. De Brissac’s voice rose above the din:

‘Keep firing! Shoot to kill or those devils will murder us all. I’ll be back in a second.’

He thrust his Winchester into Largertöf’s hands, and snatched his own revolver which he had lent to the seaman. Bounding down the bridge ladder he leapt towards the girl from the island.

She was moaning loudly but sitting up and frantically endeavouring to get her feet free of her stilts.

As De Brissac raced up to her two Negroes sprang at him from the rail. He pistolled the nearest, shooting him through the throat, and turned to face the other. His automatic clicked uselessly. The ammunition in the clip had been exhausted.

The ferocious-looking black giant came at him with a broad-bladed cutlass but he had dropped his ski-sticks on the deck and stooping swiftly, De Brissac grabbed one of them. He was just in
time to jab the Negro with its pointed end in the left side of the belly.

The man let out a howl of rage, bent double, straightened up, and came on again; but De Brissac had more time to aim his second thrust and landed the point of the ski-stick in the man’s right eye. With a wail of pain the savage dropped his cutlass and staggered away towards the side of the ship.