A little later they came in sight of Sumatra, but as they were going fairly well, thought it best not to attempt a landing for repairs. So they crossed the northern tip of the island, and proceeded on over the Strait of Malacca. Sometime since, Paul had taken Bob's place at the throttle, and the latter had communicated with their destination by wireless, learning that the other airplane had arrived.

It was twilight when they at last reached Singapore, and made a landing in the race-course in the outskirts of the town. By long odds this was the smallest island upon which they had so far stopped, but they found the city one of the busiest. Their rivals had left fully two hours before.

Now came the task of repairing the broken tail elevator. As the frame was undamaged, it was only necessary to straighten out a few bent supports and put new covering on. The British official at the field showed them where to purchase the necessary silk and glue, also a good waterproof varnish for coating the covering. From his own home he secured a pair of scissors with which to do the cutting, and John and Bob worked at the task, while Paul and Tom took on fuel and water and looked after other preparations for resuming their journey as soon as possible.

During this process, Grandpa the monkey was permitted to come out of the cabin and entertain the crowd of onlookers with his antics, which he did to perfection, as he had done at other stops. To the ivory ring about his slender little waist, Paul always fastened a long thin rope, which he had bought in Para, when he let Grandpa out. This leash prevented him from wandering off, something nearly all unfettered monkeys will do if not watched very closely by their masters. Almost any place seems to be home to a monkey, and almost any man seems to suit him for a temporary master.

Grandpa himself delighted in running out upon the wings of the Sky-Bird at the stops. He pulled the control wires and made the ailerons swing up and down, which always raised a laugh among the crowds. Another favorite pastime with him was to post himself in front of the reflector of the big searchlight up on the cabin, and make the most comical grimaces at his image on the polished reflector inside, sometimes uttering queer noises as if he were crying, and at other times chattering with the utmost anger at the phantom monkey, mixing these demonstrations up with wild dashes around behind the lamp to see if the mimicking animal were there. No matter what language the natives of each port might speak, they never failed to understand and appreciate these little sideshow comedies of Grandpa's. And when it would become noised about among them that this particular monkey had traveled all the way from South America through the air with the "bird-men," their awe for him was amusing to behold.

CHAPTER XXV

ENGULFED IN A VOLCANO'S DUST

With three hundred gallons of gasoline in her tanks, and her broken tail-elevator well repaired, the Sky-Bird was ready at eleven o'clock that evening to take off. Her crew were all tired out, but they knew they would soon be able to occupy the comfortable seats or hammocks in the cabin for another long stretch of over-sea travel, for it would be morning before they would reach Port Darwin, Australia, their next stop.

It had been raining very hard in Singapore just before they arrived, and the field was quite wet, with many puddles in the low spots.

Through one or two of these they had had to run in landing, and it seemed that in hopping off they would be forced to do so again.

Fortunately the ground was sandy, so they had come to a stop in a spot not at all muddy, and had thus been able to work upon the machine without the discomforts of wading in slime while doing it.

They now started the engine, Tom climbed in, and they were off, running over the soft ground at increasing speed. Then the airplane struck a pool of water, five or six inches deep, which almost pulled them up.

It also held them back so that when the machine emerged it was going very little faster than at the beginning. The next patch of ground was a little longer, but they had not risen when they struck it at a rate of about twenty-five miles an hour.

This pool was also quite deep, and the sudden resistance almost threw the Sky-Bird onto her nose. It did cause her to dip so that her long propeller struck the puddle, and immediately water and sand were sucked up and thrown in almost every direction by the swiftly revolving blades. Much of it reached the natives, who in two long rows of curious humanity, formed a lane for the pa.s.sage of the craft, and many a poor fellow gave a howl and fell back against those behind, spluttering and rubbing grit and water from his face, while rivulets coursed down his dusky body amid the howls of laughter of his mates.

The flyers had only a fleeting glimpse of this amusing incident before they found the front windows of the cabin so covered with the deluge of spray that they could scarcely see ahead. Two of them quickly opened the portals, for a grave danger menaced them.

Less than sixty yards ahead was the lower fence of the field, and just back of this arose scrub trees and houses, with no opening between which could be utilized. They must clear these formidable obstacles, looming bigger every second, and the distance was alarmingly short, for the last pool had again r.e.t.a.r.ded their momentum to such an extent that they had just barely staggered through it.

Picking up speed once more at every turn of her propeller, the Sky-Bird shot down the last stretch of ground reaching to the fence. How fast this obstruction loomed up! Just in the nick of time the airplane left the ground. They sailed over the tops of trees and houses so close that the wheels of their landing-gear almost sc.r.a.ped. It was one of the finest maneuvers of the whole voyage, and the boys praised John so for his good piloting that he had to ask them to desist.

After a wide sweep above Singapore, they headed for the open water, which in this case happened to be South China Sea.

The weather was very threatening. Dark-looking clouds began to efface the moon and stars, whose light had aided in the take-off at Singapore, and within fifteen minutes occasional flashes of sheet-lightning could be seen far ahead, throwing into relief the immense bulk of the foreboding clouds and shedding a pallid gleam over the sea.

Occasionally a light zephyr came out of the east, but it would last only a moment.

"We ought to be just about over the equator now," announced John a little later.

Paul and Bob had stayed up on purpose to witness this event, and by dead reckoning had computed their position so closely that John's announcement had come just as they were about to make a similar statement. Although they could see no "line" stretching along down there in the sea, they fancied they could, with the most pleasant imagery. That great line, the belt of the universe, dividing the Northern and Southern hemispheres, they had already crossed once, in their zigzagging course, at the mouth of the Amazon. Now here in the South China Sea they were crossing it a second time. At no time had they been more than thirteen degrees away from it. One more crossing of it, if all went well, and they would be almost within sight of the end of their journey--Panama!

With this pleasant thought Bob and Paul rolled up in their hammocks, trusting John and Tom to bring them safely through the bad weather that seemed in store, and were soon asleep.

To the two older flyers, used to all conditions of aerial pa.s.sage as a result of several years' experience, the present conditions were not at all terrifying. Although the spectacle of the dark clouds in front of them was extremely uncanny, they realized that they were only local thunder showers which could probably be avoided by a little careful navigating.

In this they were right. By wheeling a little out of their course, to the left or right, and by flying up over one big cloud which could not be avoided in any other manner, they managed to dodge the most dangerous fields of lightning and the worst torrents of rain.

Presently they left the dark clouds far behind, and once more the stars appeared in the blue firmament above and the pale moon lit up the tropical sea.

With relief John guided the Sky-Bird lower, so that they could keep a sharp lookout for guide-posts of land. They pa.s.sed several small islets which were uncharted with them, but when, about midnight, they made out a great black blotch not far ahead, they recognized it as the southern end of the island of Borneo, and knew they were all right.

In a little while Borneo was sweeping along below them, its mangroved sh.o.r.es gloomy and desolate-looking, not to say weird, in the pale moonlight. Among those dense forests and thickets the flyers knew many a wild animal was prowling at that very moment, and in the thatched huts in the glens slept many a fierce-visaged savage with weapons close at hand.

Toward morning the flyers observed a volcano in active eruption off to the southeastward, apparently on the island of Timor. It was a beautiful sight, so wonderful that John awoke the sleepers, that they too might enjoy it. Fantastic lights of various colors shot upward from the crater. These shafts lit up billowing clouds of smoke and ashes, which poured out in awe-inspiring volume. Back of it all stood the dark-blue velvet sky, against which the pyrotechnics were embossed in a stunning manner. Man could never have wished to witness a more remarkable manifestation of nature than did the young aviators, as they viewed the spectacle from their own favored position in the air.

Swiftly the Sky-Bird drew them toward the volcano, for it was directly in their course. As they approached, they could see flames licking their way upward from the dark ma.s.s of rock const.i.tuting the shaft, and could make out streams of lava pouring over the sides of the crater, going down into the unknown blackness below. What a sight it was! How their pulses beat! How their hearts quickened!

But now, very unexpectedly, the sight was shut out. Thin, pungent, volcanic smoke and ash began to surround them. In a few moments it was so thick that they grew alarmed. All had the same fearful thought--

If this should continue a little while, they would lose their bearings, and might run right into the fountain of fire itself!

This was a terrifying possibility, for it would mean a horrible death to every one of them. Fireproof though the airplane was in the general sense of the word, every one of those in her cabin knew that if they should ever pa.s.s through those licking flames, the great heat in them would fairly melt the light structure of the machine in the twinkling of an eye. No metal or wood could withstand that terrible blast a moment, much less human flesh.

It is small wonder, therefore, that Tom now sent the Sky-Bird off to the right, and higher, also. They closed the windows, to keep out the foul smells, and anxiously awaited developments. They could not see a yard in front of them, so thick were the smoke and gases. It was a trying time.

Fortunately Tom had taken the best course he could. Five minutes pa.s.sed--ten minutes--fifteen--and then the air began to clear. Slowly the curtain lifted; and presently looking back, they saw that they had pa.s.sed the volcano and were leaving it and the island well behind.

Its fires, too, seemed to be burning out. Only a few forks of ghostly light were coming up from the crater. These grew fainter and fainter, and in a little while the eruption seemed to have entirely subsided, for Timor was swallowed up once more in the impenetrable mantle of night.

CHAPTER XXVI

IN AUSTRALIA

Shortly after five o'clock the next afternoon, Paul saw ahead and to port what appeared to be haze, but which he and Tom hoped was the coastline of Australia. Ten minutes later the observer joyfully pointed out to the pilot unmistakable evidence of an island upon which stood a tall object--Bathurst Island lighthouse.

John and Tom were routed out, and all saw the rugged outline of the great island--a continent itself, as large as the United States and much the same shape--stretching away to the southward and slowly dwindling into low, sandy, barren sh.o.r.es as it went.

Less than forty minutes later they were circling over Port Darwin, on the northwest corner of the continent, while a good-sized crowd of people down below pointed excitedly upward. The flyers soon made out the landing-field by reason of its white marker, and swooped gracefully down, while those below cheered.

Two zealous customs officials were anxious to examine the new arrivals, also a health officer; but this did not take long, and during the process they were able to converse pleasantly with Mr. Seth Partlow, the British official in charge of the field, also with the mayor of Darwin, who gave them the most cordial welcome.

They were sorry to learn that Pete Deveaux and his flyers had departed less than a half-hour before their own arrival; but they had been expecting such a report owing to the fact that they had been left so far behind at Singapore. They now determined to hurry up refitting operations, and leave at the first opportunity, hot upon the trail.

Messages were dispatched to Mr. Giddings at Panama and to his newspaper in New York; and another roll of films containing numerous interesting views taken that morning just before and after landing, were mailed in to the _Daily Independent_.

Here, for the first time, they were able to secure a paper containing accounts of their own and their rival's pa.s.sage. It was a novel experience to read these glowing descriptions of incidents still fresh in their minds--descriptions which had in some cases flown by wire, in others by air-waves, from point to point, more than half-way around the world. It provoked thoughts which made them marvel at the wonderful ingenuity and power of the very equipment which they were using themselves every chance they could get--their wireless telegraph and telephone sets. The remarkable news-gathering efficiency of the world, the coordination of agencies in gathering and disseminating news, was astounding to contemplate.

The mayor of the town insisted upon the boys partaking of dinner at his home near by, and they thankfully agreed to do this when Mr. Partlow declared he would personally see to the filling of the Sky-Bird's tanks, for which task he had plenty of a.s.sistants.

They were most cordially received by the mayor's wife. Within fifteen minutes they had the satisfaction of sitting down to one of the most satisfying meals they had ever had. Not only was everything well cooked, but there was a great variety of viands. They were all particularly impressed with the toothsomeness of the meat which the maid served, so much so that Paul could not refrain from remarking: "Mr. Bailey, I never ate sweeter chicken than that."

"No, I don't believe you ever did," laughed the mayor. "The fact is, young man, that is not domestic chicken at all. It is the flesh of the brush-turkey, a wild fowl which the bushmen or blackfellows bring in here to market. It is a great delicacy."

"I have read of these bushmen," said Bob. "Are they quite wild?"