We both assisted, being guided by his directions, and all three of us worked the remainder of that day. Lucia discovered us at about the time we began assembling the airship, and was so fascinated by the proposition that she remained constantly by our side, watching every move we made. She made no remarks, but her dark eyes missed no detail, and whenever Alfonso instructed us she listened as carefully as we did. It seemed queer for a girl to take such an interest in a flying machine—a thing that some men do not care to fool with. In addition to the girl a curious group of the sailors surrounded us, for I have found that those who sail the seas have a certain sympathy for those who sail the air.
I had myself become enthusiastic over the machine, as I began to understand the theory of its operation. The Antoinette was as scientifically constructed as it was delicate and graceful. I could see possibilities in the thing, now, and that night was a sleepless one for me, so eager was I to continue our work the next morning. We got the frame complete the second day, and set the engines in position.
By evening the biplane seemed all ready to fly, but Alfonso asserted it must be adjusted and tested with the utmost care, as all depended on the tenseness and equalization of the planes. He told us, however, he hoped to make the flight the following morning.
Our relations with the natives had remained unchanged. The only event of each day was the arrival of food and supplies for the floating besiegers. These were brought in canoes around the island and a share distributed to each of the line of boats. Then the commissary department silently withdrew and the excitement was over. As for the guard, their patience seemed untiring. The warriors must have been more or less cramped in their canoes. If some of them were relieved at times, it was during the nights, for darkness fell upon the silent line and daybreak found it still unbroken. Perhaps some slept, lying in the bottoms of the canoes, while others watched. I have no means of knowing.
Finally our youthful and adventurous Colombian got his machine adjusted to suit him, explaining to Joe and me, as he worked, all the details of equilibrium and shifting the balance, and how to handle the wheel and run the motors. The engines were not unlike those used on automobiles, yet lighter in weight and made as delicately as a watch. The wheel answered the slightest touch, and any change in direction required a quick eye and quick thought. Indeed, to fly in a biplane is no dreamy man’s job, for every nerve and muscle must be tense and responsive and lend life to the inanimate thing he directs.
Alfonso was cool as a cucumber while making his tests and I could see that his eager enthusiasm was due more to the delights of an exhilarating flight through the air than a desire to see the Pearl City, or discover what our enemies were doing. Doubtless he had for some time been aching for an opportunity to use his novel machine, and his present attempt was mainly due to this wish.
Being of a mechanical turn of mind and interested in all such propositions, I followed intently every movement that Alfonso made in putting the biplane together, adjusting it and preparing for the flight.
“I almost believe I could work it myself,” I remarked with a smile.
“That ‘almost’ qualifies your egotism,” replied Little Jim, with assurance. “It is the flight itself—the management of the machine in the air—that really requires knowledge and skill.”
“But that can only come with experience,” I said. “How many flights have you made?”