“Do,” he urged. “You and Joe can do the work, and to-morrow I’ll come on deck and direct you. I’ll be all right by that time.”
The morning, however, found Alfonso so stiff and sore from his bruises, his gashed forehead and his cracked arm, that he could not leave his berth. The women waited upon him tirelessly and Joe and I, left to our own devices, decided to get to work on the biplane without the owner’s assistance. It interested us more than ever, now that we had seen what the thing could do, and I had acquired a powerful desire to test its virtues myself. If we could restore the machine to good condition, and should our safety demand knowledge of the movements of the natives, I felt I would not hesitate to undertake a flight.
All that day we worked, finding spare parts to replace those that had been damaged. It was evident that accidents to the frame were expected and anticipated, since duplicates of almost every part of them had been furnished. Only the motor and steering gear were without duplicate parts; but these were little likely to become injured, even by a direct fall.
On the following morning Joe and I arose before daybreak and got Bry to make us some coffee while we finally adjusted the biplane. I had decided to attempt a flight secretly, as I feared Señor de Jiminez or his son would refuse us permission had we asked to go. The seat was so arranged that it would carry two; so, both Joe and I being light in weight ought not to prove too great a burden for the machine. I had intended to go alone, at first, but Joe begged so hard that I did not like to refuse him, and he agreed to allow me to manage it without interference.
We instructed Bry and Ned Britton how to start us, but we took our run on the deck from stem to stern, so as to head over the island.
The Antoinette rose like a bird—just as the sun came up—and with a sense of elation and delight I realized we were actually flying. Up we shot, right over the forest, which came beneath us so suddenly that for the first time I recognized the marvelous speed of the machine.
Determined to investigate this threatening barrier, I turned the wheel so as to descry a succession of circles and descended until we were just above the tallest tree tops. Joe had a pair of powerful glasses, and while I watched the biplane he examined the forest.
“The woods are full of savages,” he remarked, attentively looking downward; “but most of them are lined up facing the ship.”
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“Stripping the trees of bark, and flattening it out. That’s queer. All are working at this except the double line of sentries at the edge of the forest.”