“Did you get it?” he cried eagerly.
The captain smiled, nodded his head, and then looked knowingly toward the spongers just departing for their day’s work.
“I understand,” exclaimed the boy jubilantly. “It was a peach of an idea. The old Pelican was all right, wasn’t she?”
Again Captain Bassett smiled and assisted the stiff boy to his feet.
“The idea was all right, but you did the business. She don’t look so awful now, does she?” and he pointed toward the still bedraggled aeroplane.
Both broke into laughter. Drooping on the beach, lay the Pelican’s improvised neck and bird head made of lashed bamboo poles. The two suspended lanterns covered with red calico curtains from the schooner were far from deceptive in the sunlight. The band of red cloth on a crude frame beneath these, behind which had hung balls of coal oil soaked rags (the throat of the marvelous bird) was sagging in the sand.
“Here’s where I touched off the balls,” explained Andy, still chuckling with amusement. “My oil string fuse ran through these wire loops.”
“When the wind blew the flames down,” said the captain, “it was like a dragon spitting fire. And that yell of yours! It wasn’t much like a bird—it was most grewsome. Andy,” he added suddenly and seriously, “of course, it isn’t necessary to say you’ve done a big thing for me.”
“You don’t need to begin that,” exclaimed the boy at once. “You’ve helped me and are goin’ to help me some more. That’s enough. But I’d like to see the pearl.”
Cautiously the Englishman took the bag from his pocket. As the boy’s eyes fell on the lustrous, pale rose-colored gem, he caught his companion’s arm. In the shape of a flattened pear and almost an inch and a half long, the tropic jewel seemed to radiate a glow of life.