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.”