Chapter Eleven.
An Elephant and Rhinoceros Duel.
The skull of the lion having been secured, the Flying Fish rose into the air, immediately after breakfast, and an hour was devoted to the thorough examination of the remaining extent of the patch of rocks, to ascertain whether any further specimens of the big carnivora had taken up their abode upon it. But no more were to be found, and the southward journey was therefore resumed at the leisurely speed of about fifteen knots, the noon observation for latitude showing that the ship had entered the tropic of Cancer shortly after eleven o’clock that morning.
The remainder of that day passed uneventfully, as did the next, with the exception that, the ship having been raised to an altitude of two thousand feet above the surface of the earth, in order that the travellers might be above and out of the layer of highly heated air produced by the reflection of the sun’s rays from the surface of the sand, they again caught sight of the Nile, which swam into view on their left hand during the forenoon of the second day, near the little village of Dashi, and remained in sight thereafter until they descended to earth for the night, some twenty-five miles west of the town of New Dongola. Here they were again treated to the spectacle of a superb desert sunset.
This leisurely mode of progression, however, was beginning to pall somewhat upon the travellers, or rather, upon the male portion of them. It was altogether too uneventful for their taste; moreover, their appetite for sport had been whetted afresh by their experience among the rocks, and as they sat at dinner that night they unanimously decided that, as the climate seemed to agree thoroughly with little Ida—who was growing better and stronger every day—they would waste no further time in dawdling, but would forthwith make the best of their way to the spot where, on their previous cruise, they had seen that wonderful animal the unicorn, almost precisely the creature depicted in the royal arms of Great Britain, and endeavour to secure a specimen or two. Accordingly, after spending a very enjoyable evening in the music-saloon, the ladies retired to rest about midnight, while the men, producing their large-scale map of Africa, carefully laid down upon it the course, and measured off the distance necessary to carry them to the point which they desired to reach. This ascertained, Mildmay—who usually performed the duties of navigator—ascended to the pilot-house and, injecting a sufficient quantity of vapour into the air-chambers to produce the required vacuum, caused the ship to rise to a height of ten thousand feet into the calm belt, sent the engines ahead, gradually raising their speed to the maximum, and meanwhile heading the ship upon her proper course. Then he returned below, and reported to Sir Reginald what he had done, and all hands retired to their respective cabins for the night, quite confident, from past experience, of the ship’s ability to take care of herself during the hours of darkness.
They all slept well, as was usual with them while enjoying this delightful, untrammelled, open-air existence; but the eager enthusiasm of the scientist and explorer caused the professor to be astir with the first streak of dawn, and rising quietly, he made his way noiselessly, in pyjamas and slippered feet, to the pilot-house, out of the windows of which he peered eagerly about him.
The Flying Fish was still sweeping steadily along through the air at a speed of one hundred and twenty miles an hour, with her sharp snout holding steadily to the course at which it had been set overnight; but beneath her nothing was visible save a vast sea of impenetrably thick white fog. The professor consulted his watch.
“We should be close to the spot by this time,” he murmured. “Let us get down beneath that fog, and see where we are.”
He stopped the engines, opened the air-valve, and the great ship instantly began to settle quietly down. In a few minutes she sank gently into the fog-bank, and the professor, after touching another lever or two, ran nimbly down the pilot-house stairs and out on deck, that he might get a clear view of his surroundings. Stepping to the guard-rail that took the place of bulwarks in the Flying Fish, he looked eagerly about and under him. For a few seconds there was nothing to be seen but huge wreaths of dense white steam-like mist writhing and curling about the ship; then, here and there, great shapeless phantom forms dimly appeared through the enshrouding fog, and the professor knew that he was in the midst of a country thickly dotted with extensive clumps of “bush.” A moment later a slight grating jar told that the ship had grounded, and hastening back to the pilot-house, von Schalckenberg brought the four grip-anchors into action, thus securing the ship to the spot on which she had landed, after which he made his way to one of the bathrooms, took his bath, and then returned to his cabin and dressed.
The shock of the ship taking the ground, light though it was, sufficed to arouse the other sleepers, and half an hour later the male contingent of the party were assembled in the dining-saloon, taking their early coffee and biscuit. By glancing from time to time through the saloon windows, they were able to see that the fog still hung thick about them; but while they lingered, chatting over their coffee, the professor suddenly cried out that the mist was clearing, and with one accord they emptied their cups and made for the deck.
Yes, the fog was certainly thinning away under the influence of the now risen sun; and in a few minutes it was possible to see with tolerable distinctness, not only the ground beneath them, but also the clumps of bush in their immediate neighbourhood, while other and more distant objects were momentarily stealing into view as the mist-wreaths thinned away and vanished. A few minutes later the entire landscape lay clearly revealed before them, sharp and distinct in the crystalline purity of the early morning light.
And then exclamations of astonishment burst simultaneously from the lips of four of the five male voyagers; for, as they glanced about them, they instantly recognised their surroundings, and discovered that von Schalckenberg, in the blindness of fog that had enveloped him, had brought the Flying Fish to earth within less than a hundred yards of the identical spot which she had occupied upon the memorable occasion when they had first beheld the unicorns. Yes, there was the little shallow lake amid the tall bordering reeds of which they had ambushed themselves for the purpose of shooting the game that came down there to drink at night; there was the streamlet from which they had replenished their supply of fresh water; they were now in the same open, grassy, bush-enveloped space that the ship had previously occupied; and over there, to the left, within a stone’s throw, was the precise spot upon which she had rested; and they doubted not that within five minutes they could find the actual holes in the soil made by her grip-anchors some six years or more ago. And there, some two miles away, rose the low, bare hill upon the crest of which the professor had first seen the troop of unicorns standing out against the background of pale primrose sky as they grazed. Ay, and there were animals of some sort up there now! The professor rushed below, and presently reappeared with a pair of binoculars in his hand, which he hastily levelled at the tiny dots. Alas! they were only black antelope, interesting creatures enough from the mere sportsman’s point of view, but not what he wanted and hoped to see. He lowered the glasses with a sigh of resignation, which said as plainly as words, that he supposed it was too much to hope that they would be lucky enough to find instantly what they were in search of.
And while they stood chatting together the ladies and little Ida stepped out on deck and joined them; and then there were renewed exclamations of wonder and delight at the change from the desert scenery upon which they had gazed the day before, and for so many days previously that they had begun to tire of it slightly.
The air was rapidly becoming heated under the rays of a sun that would be very nearly vertical at noon; at Mildmay’s suggestion, therefore, the men of the party busied themselves forthwith in spreading the awnings fore and aft, that the ladies might have a welcome shade under which to sit during the day, and while they were still tying the last lanyards the breakfast-gong sounded, and five minutes later the entire party was gathered round the breakfast-table in a condition of exuberantly buoyant spirits.
No one felt disposed to linger long over the meal that morning, and within half an hour everybody was again on deck, each provided with a pair of binoculars, while the men folk—attired in stalking suits of thin but tough grey-green tweed, consisting of Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with caps of the same material, and shod with stout boots, surmounted by thick leather gaiters reaching to the knee, as a protection against possible snake-bites—had taken the precaution to bring up their rifles and bandoliers with them, in order that they might be ready for any emergency.
Their first act was to sweep the entire visible surface of the country with their glasses; but nothing more interesting than a few bunches of deer and antelope were to be seen. This, however, was not to be very greatly wondered at, for the ground was so heavily encumbered with bush that comparatively little of it was to be seen. It was perfectly clear that if they wished to find game, they must go and look for it. And there were two ways of doing this. One was to sally forth on foot; while the other, and much the easier, way, was to rise a few hundred feet in the air, and then survey the country afresh. It was but necessary to mention the latter course for it to be promptly decided upon; and Sir Reginald at once went to the pilot-house and did what was requisite, with the result that, a minute or two later, the Flying Fish was a thousand feet in the air, and drifting very gently to the southward before a languid northerly breathing of warm wind.
This new position of the ship disclosed a scene of a very different character from that upon which they had just before been gazing; for not only had they now a very much wider horizon, but they were also able to see over and beyond a great deal of the bush in their near vicinity, and thus survey much open space that had before been hidden from them. Moreover, many sounds that had before been inaudible to them now reached their ears.
Sir Reginald now emerged from the pilot-house and rejoined his companions, who all this while had never ceased to search the country with their binoculars.
“Well, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “have you discovered anything worthy of your notice?”
“There is a small herd of elephant feeding in that clump of timber yonder,” answered the professor, “and a few buck and antelope scattered about here and there; but I can see no sign of unicorns, as yet.”
“Then,” said Sir Reginald, cheerfully, “we must be content with what we can get, and go for the elephants. Probably we shall be obliged to go into ambush at night for the unicorns. They must drink, I presume; and, if so, we ought to get them, sooner or later, by watching among the reeds of the pool. What say you, gentlemen; do you care to try for a shot at those elephants?”
Colonel Sziszkinski eagerly expressed his willingness to join a party, and Lethbridge was altogether too keen a sportsman to let slip such an opportunity; but Mildmay seemed rather disposed to be lazy that morning, and linger with the ladies, while it soon became evident that the professor could not be satisfied with any game other than unicorns. It was therefore speedily arranged that Sir Reginald, Lethbridge, and their Russian guest should have a try for the elephants, while Mildmay and von Schalckenberg remained on board the Flying Fish.
The clump of timber in which the elephants had been seen feeding was by this time about two miles distant, and almost directly to windward, in the midst of a wide open space, with no bush near enough to afford effective cover for the hunters within range of their rifles. It would be necessary, therefore, for the animals to be stalked. But there happened to be a large clump of bush about a mile directly to leeward of the timber, extensive enough almost to conceal the Flying Fish behind it, while affording those on her deck a very clear and uninterrupted view of the movements of both hunters and hunted; and it was therefore decided to head the ship for this. Von Schalckenberg accordingly retired to the pilot-house to navigate the craft to the chosen position, and Mildmay joined the ladies, while the three sportsmen went below to complete their final preparations and hold themselves ready to issue forth by way of the diving-chamber as soon as they should feel the ship take the ground.
At a low rate of speed, and keeping the ship dead end-on to the clump of timber—to avoid alarming the elephants—the professor deftly manoeuvred her into the berth chosen for her, and brought her gently to earth on a spot which afforded those on her deck a clear view over the top of the bush, while concealing practically the whole of her hull from the keen-sighted pachyderms; and, a few minutes later, the three hunters emerged from underneath the ship and waved a silent adieu to the little group who stood on deck watching them.
During the first five minutes of their tramp no special precautions were necessary on the part of the trio, for during that time they were screened from the view of their quarry by the intervening clump of bush; but upon reaching the extremity of this they were obliged to crouch low, and sometimes even to go down on their knees in the long grass to avoid detection. The elephants were still busily feeding, as could easily be seen by the occasional violent movement of the branches of the trees, while one or another of them occasionally gave vent to his feelings by trumpeting, the sound of which was distinctly audible on the deck of the Flying Fish.
The little party of five there gathered were all now comfortably ensconced in basket chairs, from which, under the grateful shadow of the awning, they were able to watch at their ease for developments, with the aid of their powerful binoculars. For a quarter of an hour nothing interesting happened. The stalking party were still hidden from sight of the others by the intervening bush; then their heads and shoulders emerged into view. By almost imperceptible degrees they slowly advanced, one of them from time to time cautiously raising his head to assure himself that they were still going in the right direction; and this state of things continued for another half-hour, during which the “stalk” appeared to be progressing most satisfactorily, and with every prospect of success. For the hunters were now within a quarter of a mile of the wood; and it was obvious to the onlookers that they were already eagerly watching for an opportunity to get in a shot, while still steadily creeping ever closer to the unsuspecting quarry.
But quite unexpectedly the whole aspect of affairs became changed; for the elephants, which had for some time been silent, presently sent forth a terrific sound of trumpeting; and in another moment a herd of eleven elephants, three of which were enormous “tuskers,” suddenly broke cover and stampeded down-wind with their trunks in the air, their great ears flapping viciously, and the animals giving utterance to shrill screams and trumpetings of rage as they headed directly for the spot where the three hunters crouched in the long grass. And a moment later they were followed by a twelfth—a truly gigantic bull—which was evidently engaged in furious combat with some other and smaller animal, which could be seen persistently charging his huge antagonist, while the latter, wheeling hither and thither with an agility that was truly astonishing in so enormous a creature, seemed making strenuous efforts to impale the enemy upon his tusks, or to crush him by kneeling upon him.
Meanwhile, the remaining eleven elephants pursued their headlong flight straight for the three sportsmen, who, with marvellous nerve, remained hidden until but a short fifty yards intervened between them and the panic-stricken brutes. Then the trio rose suddenly to their full height, and raised their rifles to their shoulders. The next instant two of the three tuskers were seen to stumble heavily and fall to the ground, while the third pulled up short, and, with legs wide apart, stood screaming with fear and pain. Then, his legs seeming to give way under him, he, too, sank to the ground and rolled over on his side, while the remaining eight, evidently further startled by the sudden and inexplicable fall of their leaders, scattered right and left, and were soon lost to view behind the many clumps of bush that were thickly dotted here and there.
Mildmay rose to his feet. “That fight yonder is becoming interesting, Professor,” he said. “I think it would not be amiss for us to move a little nearer to the scene of action; for, in any case, it will be necessary to have the ship fairly close to those three dead elephants, to facilitate the cutting out of the ivory, to say nothing about saving our friends a hot tramp back through the long grass. What say you?”
“I was about to suggest it, but you forestalled me,” answered von Schalckenberg. “Let us go at once.”
A few minutes later the Flying Fish, having left her place of concealment and risen into the air, came to earth again about a hundred yards to windward of the carcases of the three dead elephants, and Mildmay rejoined the others on deck to watch the combat that still raged with unabated fury, and to observe the further movements of the little party of hunters, who were now cautiously and watchfully creeping nearer to the combatants.
The scene, as now viewed from the lofty elevation of the ship’s deck, was both interesting and exciting, for the drama was enacting at a distance of not more than some two hundred yards from the spectators. The great bull elephant and his antagonist—which was now identified as an exceptionally large rhinoceros—were so completely occupied with each other that the approach of the Flying Fish had been quite unnoticed by either of them, and they continued to circle round and charge each other, making the welkin ring with their furious squeals and grunts and trumpetings, with as much pertinacity and zest as though no flying ship and no hunters had been within a hundred miles of them. There could be no doubt that this was a battle to be fought out to the bitter end. The elephant’s enormous tusks were already ensanguined with his antagonist’s gore, while a long gash in his left foreleg, close to its junction with the body, from which the blood could be seen to spurt in little intermittent jets, testified to the skill and strength with which the rhinoceros had used his long, curving horn; yet neither betrayed the slightest disposition to retire from the contest. Their wounds appeared but to goad them to greater fury, and to stimulate them to redoubled effort. The truly amazing activity displayed by these ponderous and unwieldy creatures was perhaps the most remarkable feature of the whole affair. They wheeled and doubled about each other with the nimbleness of fighting dogs, the rhinoceros leaping in to deliver his stroke, and then springing aside to avoid the thrust of the elephant’s tusks with a rapidity that rendered it difficult to follow his movements, while the elephant countered with a quick alertness that was evidently very disconcerting to his foe. At length they paused, as if by mutual consent, facing each other at a distance of about half a dozen yards, the ridiculously inadequate tail of the rhinoceros switching in quick, angry jerks from side to side, while the elephant watched him keenly with uplifted trunk and swiftly flapping ears. They stood thus for a full minute, probably recovering their wind; and then the rhinoceros, with a scarcely perceptible movement, began to edge stealthily round in an apparent endeavour to work himself into position on his enemy’s broadside. The elephant, however, was fully on the alert, and followed his adversary’s movement with a corresponding turn of his own body, keeping the rhinoceros still full in front of him. The movements of the two animals gradually quickened, but it presently became apparent to the onlookers that the rhinoceros was slowly lessening the distance between himself and his enemy. Then suddenly, with a furious squeal, the rhinoceros dashed straight in, with lowered head, aiming for the elephant’s chest, between his fore legs. The thud, as the two bodies came together, could be distinctly heard by those on board the Flying Fish, who also saw that the rhinoceros had at length got his blow home, the full length of his horn being driven into his antagonist’s body. The elephant uttered a piercing shriek of pain as he felt the wound, then he lowered his head, and, with a quick, thrusting toss, drove one of his tusks into the groin of the rhinoceros with such tremendous force that the weapon passed completely through the huge body, the point coming out just above the root of the tail. Then, with a mighty groan, he crashed to the ground, dead, with the writhing body of the rhinoceros still impaled upon his tusk. The fight—a fight to the death, in very deed—was over.
Meanwhile, the three hunters, who had been standing rooted to the spot during the last few minutes of the combat, too profoundly interested to move, rushed forward and administered the coup-de-grâce to the still struggling rhinoceros.
Then the ladies and little Ida, at the professor’s invitation, descended the spiral stairway leading down to the bottom of the ship, passed out through the diving-chamber, and sauntered over to inspect at close quarters the three shot elephants, though they declined to take a nearer view of the carcases of the combatants. Mildmay proceeded to look out the axes that would be required for the purpose of cutting out the ivory.