Читать книгу The Phantom Airman - Rowland Walker - Страница 6

While the great, mammoth air-liner is racing like a meteor across the eastern skies, on its way to Cairo and London, it is necessary to introduce to the reader a chirpy, little fellow called Gadget. In fact, this cute little chap, who stood a matter of four feet two inches in his stockinged feet, deserves a chapter or two all to himself.

Now Gadget did not belong to the passengers, nor did his name appear at all in that distinguished list. Neither did he rightly belong to the crew, except in the matter of his own opinion–on which subject he held very pronounced views. But he certainly did belong to the airship, and appeared to be part of the apparatus, or maybe the fixtures and effects. He certainly knew the run of that great liner, every nook and corner of it, better even than the purser or the navigating officer.

To tell the truth, this insignificant but perky little bit of humanity was a stowaway, who had determined, at twelve years of age, to see the world, at the expense of somebody else. How he came aboard, and hid himself amongst the mail-bags, until the airship had sailed a thousand miles over land and sea, still remains a mystery. But it happened that, when the Empress of India was crossing the blue waters of the Adriatic sea, on her outward voyage, there came a tap at the captain's door one afternoon when the latter had just retired for a brief spell.

"Come in!" called the air-skipper, in rather surly tones, wondering what had happened to occasion this interruption.

The next instant, the chief officer entered the little state-room, leading by a bit of string, attached to one of his nether garments, the most tattered-looking, diminutive, but perky little street Arab the captain had ever beheld.

"What in the name of goodness have you got there, Crabtree?" exclaimed the skipper, starting up from his comfortable bunk, at this apparition.

"Stowaway, sir!" replied the officer briefly.

"Stowaway?" echoed the captain.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you find him?"

"Didn't find him, sir. He gave himself up just now. Says he's been hiding amongst the mail-bags. What shall I do with him, sir?"

"Tie him to a parachute and drop him overboard as soon as we are over the land again," shouted the captain in angry tones. "I won't have any stowaways aboard my ship."

This was said more to frighten the little imp than with real intent, though the air-skipper spoke in angry tones, as if he meant what he said. He was evidently very much annoyed at this discovery.

"He's half-frozen, sir," interposed the chief officer in more kindly tones.

"Humph! Of course he is," added the captain. "This keen, biting wind at three thousand feet above the sea must have turned his marrow cold. Besides, he hasn't enough clothes to cover a rabbit decently. Just look at him!"

The little chap's eyes sparkled, and his face flushed a little at this reference to his scant wardrobe. But he knew by the changed tone in the captain's voice that the worst was now over. He had not even heard a reference to the proverbial rope's-end, a vision which he had always associated in his mind with stowaways.

"My word, he's a plucky little urchin, Crabtree!" declared the air-skipper at length, his anger settling down, and his admiration for the adventurous little gamin asserting itself as he gazed at the ragged but sharp-eyed little fellow.

"What is your name, Sonny?" he asked at length.

"Gadget, sir," whipped out the stowaway.

"Good enough!" returned the captain smiling. "We've plenty of gadgets aboard the airship, and I guess another won't make much difference. What do you say, Crabtree?"

"Oh, we'll find something for him to do, sir. And we'll make him earn his keep. He's an intelligent little shrimp, anyhow."

"How old are you, Gadget?" asked the captain.

"Twelve, sir!" replied the gamin.

"Father and mother dead, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir."

"Been left to look after yourself, Gadget, I reckon, haven't you?" said the skipper kindly, as he gave one more searching glance at the small urchin, and noted how the little blue lips quivered, despite the brave young heart behind them.

There was no reply this time, for even the poor, ill-treated lad could not bring himself to speak of his up-bringing.

"Never mind, Gadget…!" interposed the skipper, changing the subject. "So you determined to see the world, did you, my boy?"

"Yessir!" came the reply, and again the sharp eyes twinkled.

"Well, you shall go round the world with me, if you are a good boy. But, if you don't behave, mark my words"–and here the captain raised his voice as if in anger–"I'll drop you overboard by parachute, and leave you behind! Do you understand?"

The urchin promised to behave himself, and, in language redolent of Whitechapel, began to thank the captain effusively.

"There, that will do! Take him away, and get him a proper rig-out, Crabtree," said the skipper impatiently. "I never saw such a tatterdemalion in all my life."

"Come along, now, Gadget," ordered the chief officer, giving a little tug at the frayed rope, which he had been holding all this while, and, which, in some unaccountable way, seemed to hold the urchin's wardrobe together.

This little tug, however, had dire results, in-so-far as the above mentioned wardrobe was concerned. It immediately became obvious that it not only served as braces to the little gamin, but also as a girdle, which kept in a sort of suspended animation Gadget's circulating library and commissariat. For, even as the janitor and his prisoner turned, the rope became undone, and, though Gadget by a rapid movement retained the nether part of his tattered apparel in position, yet his library–which consisted of a dirty, grease-stained, much worn volume–and his commissariat–composed of sundry fragments of dry crusts of bread wrapped in half a newspaper–immediately became dislodged by the movement, and showered themselves in a dozen fragments at the captain's feet.

"Snakes alive! what have we here?" demanded that august person, as he stooped and picked up the book. Then he laughed outright, as he read aloud from the grubby, much-thumbed title page:–

Five weeks in a Balloon … by Jules Verne.

The mate grinned too. He remembered how that same book had thrilled him, not so long ago either. And, perhaps, after all, it was the same with Captain Rogers.

"Where did you get this, Gadget?" asked the captain, reopening the conversation, after this little accident.

"Bought it of Jimmy Dale, sir," replied the boy readily.

"And how much did you pay for it?"

"Gev 'im my braces, an' a piece o' tar band for it, sir."

The captain ceased to laugh, and looked at the boy's earnest face. And something suspiciously like a tear glistened in the eyes of the airman, as he replied:–

"You actually gave away to another urchin an important part of your scanty wardrobe to get possession of this book?"

"Oh, it wur a fair bargen, sir. Jimmy found the book on a dust heap, but I wasn't takin' it fur nothin'. And then Jimmy never had any braces."

"I see. Very well, you can go now, Gadget. Mr. Crabtree will find you some better clothes, and get you some food. Then you shall report to me to-morrow. See, here is your treasured book," said the skipper, dismissing the urchin once more.

"Thank you, sir," returned the boy, pulling a lock of unkempt hair which hung over his forehead, by way of salute. "I'll lend you the book, sir, if you'll take care of it," and the chief officer smiled as he led the little chap away.

So that was how Gadget became part of the fixtures and apparatus of the air liner. He was more than an adventurer, was Gadget. He might even have been an inventor or a discoverer, if he had met with better fortune in the choice of his parents. His sharp, young brain was full of great ideas.