Chapter Ten.
An Extraordinary Sight.
The chief topic of conversation at the breakfast-table on the following morning was, as might be expected, big game shooting; and it then transpired that the Russian colonel had never faced anything bigger or more formidable than bears or wolves. He was consequently much elated at the prospect of encountering the lordly lion in his native wilds; especially with so effective a weapon as the magazine rifle firing twenty shots without reloading, upon the merits of which Colonel Lethbridge expatiated eloquently. His elation was of the kind that easily becomes contagious, and the party were in high spirits when at length they rose from the table and proceeded to the gun-room to select their weapons and provide themselves with a supply of cartridges. These cartridges, it should be explained, were, like almost everything else connected with the Flying Fish, of quite a unique character, and totally unlike those used in the ordinary weapons of sport or warfare, in that they were not charged with gunpowder, but with a preparation of the singular substance employed for generating the motive power of the ship’s engines. This substance was so tremendously powerful that a very minute quantity was all that was needed to take the place of the usual powder charge, hence the possibility of stowing away as many as twenty cartridges in a magazine of only ordinary size. Furthermore, the cartridges were loaded with several different kinds of missiles. There was, for instance, the cartridge charged with shot of various sizes—from dust-shot for the killing of humming-birds and such like, up to ordinary buck-shot—enclosed in a case so fragile that the friction of its passage along the rifling of the barrel destroyed it, causing it to crumble to dust as it emerged from the muzzle of the weapon, and leave the charge of shot free to do its work in the same manner as though fired from an ordinary shot-gun. Then there was the cartridge charged with the usual sporting bullet employed for shooting such game as buck and antelopes; the cartridge with a soft-nosed bullet for war purposes and the shooting of the larger game, such as giraffes, lions, tigers, leopards, and the like; and, finally, the cartridge charged with a thick, heavy steel shell that exploded and blew to pieces upon striking its mark, thus inflicting so terrible a wound as usually to prove instantly fatal. This last was intended for use in the shooting of elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and other animals with exceptionally thick hides, and for any case of exceptional emergency. It was, of course, the Numbers 2 and 3 cartridges with which the sportsmen provided themselves on the present occasion.
The weapons having been selected and a sufficient supply of cartridges slipped into each man’s pocket, the hunters ascended to the deck to take a preliminary look round with their binoculars, upon the off-chance that they might catch a glimpse of something that would help them to a decision as to the point to which to direct their steps. And here they discovered that the ladies had preceded them, Lady Olivia, Mlle. Sziszkinski, and Ida being already there and intently searching the rocks with their glasses.
“Well, Ida,” demanded Sir Reginald, “how many lions have you already seen?”
“None at all, papa,” answered the child, in a playfully aggrieved tone of voice. “I saw a deer standing upon that highest rock, a few minutes ago, but he did not stay there long. As to lions, I think we are not very likely to see any; we cannot see very much of the rocks from this place, and I should like to be able to watch you when you go out to shoot the lions. Cannot we move the ship to a place nearer the rocks, where we can see everything?”
“Of course we can, little woman,” answered Sir Reginald, genially. “And, while we are about it,” he added, turning to the others, “we may as well make a complete circuit of the entire patch—execute a reconnaissance, in fact; it may enable us to discover some trace of our quarry, and so save us a long, toilsome tramp in the heat.”
And, thereupon, he returned to the pilot-house to put the big ship in motion.
A few seconds later, with a gentle and almost imperceptible jar, the Flying Fish rose from the ground to the height of about two hundred feet, and, with her engines only just turning, began to circle slowly round the somewhat extensive outcrop, while the party on deck keenly searched with their binoculars the several irregularities of its surface as they swung into view. For some twenty minutes or so the search proved unsuccessful, and the men were beginning to feel just a trifle anxious when Lethbridge exclaimed, with a sigh of relief—
“Ah! now we are getting ‘warm,’ as Ida would say. Do you see that small bunch of gazelle drinking at the pool yonder? Where they are, there also—or not very far off—will our friend Leo be, I fancy.”
In a moment every glass was directed full upon the half-dozen or so of graceful animals that were now in full view scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, but which had hitherto been hidden by a huge intervening mass of rock. It appeared as though Lethbridge’s assumption would probably prove correct, for the animals betrayed evident signs of uneasiness, as though suspicious of danger, though unable to determine the point from which to expect it. They drank hesitatingly, taking small sips of water and then throwing up their heads with a startled air, their ears twitching incessantly, and their bodies braced as though in readiness to bound off like a flash at the first suspicious sign. The party who watched them with such interest were at first disposed to attribute the uneasiness of the animals to the presence of the Flying Fish, which was now in full view; but von Schalckenberg, who was a good deal of a naturalist as well as an experienced shikari, confidently asserted that it was not, that it was something very much nearer that was disturbing them; and presently, while the elders of the party were discussing the matter, and intently watching the gazelles through their binoculars, Ida cried out—
“Oh, look, mamma; look, Colonel; what is that great thing like a spotted cat that is crouching behind that long ledge of rock to the left of where the gazelles are standing? Is it a leopard? Surely it must be! And, oh dear, I believe it is trying to get near enough to the gazelles to spring upon one of them! Please, please don’t let him do it; shoot him, somebody, quick!”
“Where is this leopard of yours, Ida? Show him to me,” said Lethbridge, coming over to the child’s side, and kneeling down beside her.
“There,” answered Ida, pointing. “Don’t you see him? Oh, please be quick—there, now he is standing up and looking over—”
“I see him, sweetheart,” answered Lethbridge, springing to his feet and reaching for his rifle. “Six hundred yards,” he muttered, adjusting the sight of the weapon and raising it to his shoulder.
The head of the animal was now in plain view, showing dark against the brightly illuminated background of rock, while the rest of its body was almost invisible in the deep shadow of the ledge behind which it had been stalking its prey, and it was only by the merest chance that the child’s quick eye had caught sight of the yellow, spotted form crouching low in the deep shadow and stealing almost imperceptibly toward the gazelles.
There was a faint, almost inaudible click as Lethbridge pulled the trigger of his weapon, an equally faint little wreath of diaphanous vapour leapt from its muzzle, and the leopard sprang high into the air—startling the gazelles and putting them to instant flight—ere it fell back, rolled over, and lay motionless on the rocky platform along which it had been stealing.
“Good shot!” shouted Sir Reginald, from the open windows of the pilot-house, through which he had been watching the scene. “We had better drop to earth at once, if you wish to secure the skin. Vultures have a trick of appearing from nowhere in an incredibly short time, you know; and if we leave the skinning until we come back, there may be no skin left worth the taking.”
“Quite so; we must make sure of that skin at once, if we intend to have it at all. And we certainly must, for not only is it our first trophy this cruise, but it belongs to Ida by right of first discovery, and she must have it,” answered Lethbridge, who had quickly developed a quite remarkable affection for the child.
The Flying Fish was accordingly brought to earth at once on a tolerably level spot quite close to the carcase of the leopard, and the five men quickly left the ship by way of what was known as the “diving-chamber,” and the trap-door in the bottom of the craft, and forthwith proceeded to take the skin. It was found upon examination that the ex-colonel had made a really splendid shot, his bullet having struck the creature fair in the centre of the back of the skull, and passed out through the left eye.
They were still engaged upon the work of removing the pelt when the roar of a lion reached their ears, the muffled sound seeming to suggest that the animal was at some distance—possibly as much as two miles—from them. In about half a minute the sound was repeated, and again about half a minute later, and so on, the sound coming to them pretty regularly at half-minute intervals.
“Ach!” exclaimed the professor, presently, “I think I can guess what is happening. Now, if we are quick, we may be in time to witness a somewhat remarkable sight.”
“Yes,” said Lethbridge, “I think I know to what you refer, Professor. I once saw it myself, and it certainly was, as you say, a very curious sight.”
“May we be allowed to know what this curious sight is of which you two gentlemen are speaking?” inquired the Russian.
“Wait and see for yourself, Boris, my friend,” exclaimed von Schalckenberg. “If you do not know what to expect, you will appreciate the sight all the more when you see it. There,” as the last ligament was severed and the skin came away from the carcase, “that job is finished. Let us wash our hands and be off at once, or we may be too late.”
Five minutes later the Flying Fish was again in the air, and heading at a twenty-knot speed in the direction from which the sound of roaring appeared to proceed, while several vultures had already mysteriously appeared high in the air above the carcase of the leopard, and were rapidly dropping down toward it.
The roaring still continued, each repetition of it coming to them very much more distinctly than the one that had preceded it, and presently, as the ship swept along, a little valley among the rocks swung into view, and there, in the very middle of it, was to be seen the singular sight of which the professor and Lethbridge had spoken. The valley was really a shallow saucer-like hollow in the rocky outcrop, with a small pool in the middle of it, the ground forming the interior of the saucer, so to speak, being quite smooth, with no projections or inequalities of any kind to form cover for stalking purposes. The rock-surface was here covered with a layer of soil which supported a crop of short, rich grass, and had consequently been selected as the abode of a herd of some thirty gazelles, which were now drawn up in line, close to the edge of the water-hole. To the professor and Lethbridge, both of whom had witnessed a similar incident before, the matter was perfectly clear. The gazelles had gone down to the pool to drink, and, while thus engaged, had been approached by a magnificent lion and lioness, which had succeeded in getting within about a hundred yards of the herd ere the latter had discovered their presence. Then the gazelles had faced round upon their formidable foes, and stood at gaze, apparently paralysed into inactivity, while the lions were evidently quite aware that any attempt to make a dash at the herd would at once put it to flight and send it hopelessly beyond their reach. So there the two groups remained about a hundred yards apart, the gazelles motionless. The lioness also was motionless, lying stretched at full length upon the ground with her head resting upon her outstretched fore paws, while her lord, some four or five yards nearer the gazelles, had assumed a half-crouching attitude, very similar to that of a barking dog, and was still emitting deep-throated roars at intervals.
“Ach, it is all right; we are in time; and now you will see what you will see!” exclaimed von Schalckenberg, as Sir Reginald stopped the engines, and the Flying Fish, slowing down, drifted gently into a position which afforded the occupants of her deck an excellent view of the little drama that was in progress.
The ship finally came to rest in the perfectly still air, immediately in the rear of the lion and lioness, which were apparently altogether too profoundly interested in their own proceedings to have become aware of the presence of the great ship behind them; while the gazelles also—in full view of which the huge, glistening, silver-like craft floated, at a height of some two hundred feet above the ground—appeared to be too intently occupied in watching their ferocious enemy to have any attention to spare for anything else.
As Sir Reginald emerged from the pilot-house, the professor, in a low-toned murmur, advised his companions to take their binoculars and note especially the behaviour of the gazelles. They did so, and presently became aware that one animal in particular—a fine fat buck—was exhibiting symptoms of very acute distress and terror, tossing his head and stamping on the ground with his feet at every roar of the lion, and holding himself back in an attitude that almost appeared to suggest the idea that he was being pushed or pulled out of the line toward the lion; yet there was nothing to show that this was actually the case. Presently, however, at another roar from the lion, the buck actually advanced a few paces out from the ranks of his fellows, evidently with the utmost reluctance, and stood shivering palpably in mortal terror.
“Take your rifles, gentlemen,” murmured von Schalckenberg. “We must save that poor beast’s life. But do not fire until I give the word, for I should like you all to see a little more of this really remarkable performance before we put an end to it. Boris, my friend, you have never yet shot a lion, while the rest of us have. You are therefore fairly entitled to the privilege of first shot. Take you, therefore, the lion; one of us will account for the lioness. And remember that your rifle will afford you twenty shots without reloading; if, therefore, you should fail to kill with the first shot, peg away until you do. Now, who is to be responsible for the lioness?”
“Let Mildmay take her,” said Sir Reginald. “Lethbridge has already had his shot; and yours and mine, Professor, can come later.”
And so it was arranged. Meanwhile the lion, evidently encouraged by what he had already accomplished, redoubled his efforts, sending forth roar after roar, at every one of which the unfortunate buck, shivering in every limb, and with tears streaming down his cheeks, advanced a pace or two nearer the lion. At length, however, the sight of the animal’s distress became too painful for Lady Olivia, and, lowering her binoculars, she exclaimed, in low, tense accents—
“Oh, please put an end to it, somebody! It is cruel of us to allow that pretty creature to go on suffering such agonies of terror simply because the sight happens to be of an interesting and singular nature. Surely we have seen enough, have we not?”
For answer Colonel Sziszkinski raised his rifle to his shoulder and, taking steady aim, pulled the trigger. There was the usual faint click of the hammer, and immediately a little spurt of brown dust close to the lion’s fore paws showed that the Russian had missed. The lion took no notice whatever of the fact that a bullet had just missed him, but crouched again for the emission of another roar, when the click of the hammer again sounded, immediately followed by the loud thud of the bullet, and the roar ended in a savage snarl as the great beast lurched forward on to his head, and with a single convulsive extension of his body lay quiet and still. At the same instant the thud of another bullet was heard, and the lioness was seen to twitch her head slightly, but without making any further movement. As for the troop of gazelle, no sooner was the lion down than, throwing up their heads with one accord, they wheeled sharply round to the left and dashed off across the little plain, vanishing a minute later through a cleft of the rocks.
Meanwhile Mildmay was looking alternately at the lioness and his rifle with a puzzled expression.
“I could have sworn that I hit the brute,” he exclaimed, “yet there she lies as coolly and comfortably as though nothing had happened. Even the tragic end of her lord and master seems to have no interest for her! But I’ll wake you up, my beauty, or I’ll know the reason why.” And he raised the rifle again to his shoulder.
“No need to waste another cartridge, skipper,” remarked Lethbridge, who had been inspecting the lioness through his binoculars. “Take these glasses, and look at her head, just behind the left ear.”
Mildmay took the glasses, and, having used them for a moment, handed them back with a grunt of satisfaction.
“Thanks,” he said. “I felt certain I had hit her; but I couldn’t understand why she never moved.”
“She did move, my boy,” answered Lethbridge; “she twitched her head when your bullet struck her, but she had no time for more, for you killed her on the spot, just as she lay. An uncommonly neat shot I call it—for a sailor.”
Mildmay laughed.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s not half bad—for a sailor, as you say, Colonel. We sailors don’t claim to be crack rifle-shots, you know; we leave that for the soldiers. But when it comes to shooting with a nine-point-two, or a twelve-inch gun, I believe there are some of us who could show the red-coats a trick or two.”
These two—Mildmay and Lethbridge—had not wholly escaped the feeling of professional jealousy that even to this day lingers in a more or less modified form between the navy and the army; and if the occasion happened to be peculiarly favourable, they sometimes exchanged a chaffing remark or two at each other’s expense. But the sparring was always perfectly good-natured, and absolutely devoid of all trace of ill-feeling, for, first of all, both were gentlemen in the highest sense of the term; and, in the next place, the friendship that subsisted between them was far too thorough and whole-hearted for either ever willingly to wound, though ever so slightly, the susceptibilities of the other.
It now became necessary again to bring the ship to earth, in order to secure the skins of the lion and lioness; and, the ground being favourable, this was done quite close to the spot where the two carcases lay. A few minutes later the men were once more busily engaged on the task of removing the pelts, both of which were exceedingly valuable of their kind, the animals being exceptionally fine specimens, and in perfect condition. The lion, indeed, was unanimously pronounced to be the finest that any of them had ever seen, being quite a young beast, but full-grown, with a magnificently thick, black mane, and a truly formidable set of perfect teeth and claws. Colonel Sziszkinski was in high feather at having been so fortunate as to secure so splendid a specimen, and expressed a very keen desire to secure the skull as well as the skin, if possible. At this von Schalckenberg remarked that nothing could be easier, provided that Sir Reginald was willing to remain in the neighbourhood of the rocks for the night; for there was a huge ants’ nest close at hand, and all that was necessary was to place the skinned head alongside the nest, and he would guarantee that the insects would clean the skull bare of every vestige of flesh by the following morning. Of course, Sir Reginald, who was the very personification of courtesy, readily agreed to this, and the Flying Fish was berthed for the night on the sand, a mile or two to windward of the rocks—that their slumbers might not be disturbed by the quarrelsome cries of the vultures over the carcases; and when, after breakfast next morning, they returned to ascertain the result of the experiment, it was found to be as the professor had said. The skull was picked so clean of absolutely every particle of flesh that it could safely be stowed away without the least risk of becoming offensive.