momentaryglimpse of the rows and rows of wrapped-up
passengers, slung in their little cradles behind
wind-screens, of a white-clothed engineer crawling
against the gale along a
ladder way, of spouting
engines
beating together, of the whirling wind screw,
and of a wide waste of wing. He exulted in the sight.
And in an
instant the thing had passed.
It rose
slightly and their own little wings swayed
in the rush of its
flight. It fell and grew smaller.
Scarcely had they moved, as it seemed, before it was
again only a flat blue thing that dwindled in the sky.
This was the
aeroplane that went to and fro between
London and Paris. In fair weather and in peaceful
times it came and went four times a day.
They beat across the Channel, slowly as it seemed
now, to Graham's enlarged ideas, and Beachy Head
rose greyly to the left of them.
"Land," called the aeronaut, his voice small against
the whistling of the air over the wind-screen.
"Not yet," bawled Graham, laughing. "Not land
yet. I want to learn more of this machine."
"I meant--" said the aeronaut.
"I want to learn more of this machine," repeated
Graham.
"I'm coming to you," he said, and had flung himself
free of his chair and taken a step along the guarded
rail between them. He stopped for a moment, and
his colour changed and his hands tightened. Another
step and he was clinging close to the aeronaut. He
felt a weight on his shoulder, the
pressure of the air.
His hat was a whirling speck behind. The wind came
in gusts over his wind-screen and blew his hair in
streamers past his cheek. The aeronaut made some
hasty adjustments for the shifting of the centres of
gravity and
pressure.
"I want to have these things explained," said
Graham." What do you do when you move that engine
forward?"
The aeronaut hesitated. Then he answered, "They
are
complex, Sire."
"I don't mind," shouted Graham. "I don't mind."
There was a moment's pause." Aeronautics is the
secret--the privilege--"
"I know. But I'm the Master, and I mean to
know." He laughed, full of this novel realisation of
power that was his gift from the upper air.
The aeropile curved about, and the keen fresh wind
cut across Graham's face and his
garment lugged at
his body as the stem
pointed round to the west. The
two men looked into each other's eyes.
"Sire, there are rules--"
"Not where I am concerned," said Graham. "You
seem to forget."
The aeronaut scrutinised his face. "No," he said.
"I do not forget, Sire. But in all the earth--no man
who is not a sworn aeronaut--has ever a chance.
They come as passengers--"
"I have heard something of the sort. But I'm not
going to argue these points. Do you know why I
have slept two hundred years? To fly!"
"Sire," said the aeronaut, "the rules--if I break
the rules--"
Graham waved the penalties aside.
"Then if you will watch me--"
"No," said Graham, swaying and gripping tight as
the machine lifted its nose again for an ascent.
"That's not my game. I want to do it myself. Do
it myself if I smash for it! No! I will. See. I am
going to
clamber by this to come and share your
seat. Steady! I mean to fly of my own
accord if
I smash at the end of it. I will have something to pay
for my sleep. Of all other things--. In my past it
was my dream to fly. Now--keep your balance."
" A dozen spies are watching me, Sire!"
Graham's
temper was at end. Perhaps he chose it
should be. He swore. He swung himself round the
intervening mass of levers and the aeropile swayed.
"Am I Master of the earth?" he said. "Or is your
Society? Now. Take your hands off those levers,
and hold my wrists. Yes--so. And now, how do
we turn her nose down to the glide? "
"Sire," said the aeronaut.
"What is it? "
"You will protect me? "
"Lord! Yes! If I have to burn London. Now!"
And with that promise Graham bought his first lesson
in
aerialnavigation. "It's clearly to your advantage,
this journey," he said with a loud laugh--for the air
was like strong wine-- "to teach me quickly and well.
Do I pull this? Ah! So! Hullo!"
"Back, Sire! Back! "
"Back--right. One--two--three--good
God! Ah! Up she goes! But this is living!"
And now the machine began to dance the strangest
figures in the air. Now it would sweep round a spiral
of scarcely a hundred yards
diameter, now it would
rush up into the air and swoop down again, steeply,
swiftly, falling like a hawk, to recover in a rushing loop
that swept it high again. In one of these descents
it seemed driving straight at the drifting park of
balloons in the
southeast, and only curved about and
cleared them by a sudden
recovery of
dexterity. The
extraordinaryswiftness and smoothness of the motion,
the
extraordinary effect of the rarefied air upon his
constitution, threw Graham into a
careless fury.
But at last a queer
incident came to sober him, to
send him flying down once more to the
crowded life
below with all its dark insoluble riddles. As he
swooped, came a tap and something flying past, and
a drop like a drop of rain. Then as he went on down
he saw something like a white rag whirling down in
his wake. "What was that?" he asked. "I did not
see."
The aeronaut glanced, and then clutched at the
lever to recover, for they were
sweeping down. When
the aeropile was rising again he drew a deep breath
and replied. "That," and he indicated the white
thing still fluttering down, "was a swan."
"I never saw it," said Graham.
The aeronaut made no answer, and Graham saw
little drops upon his forehead.
They drove horizontally while Graham
clambered
back to the passenger's place out of the lash of the
wind. And then came a swift rush down, with the
wind-screw whirling to check their fall, and the flying
stage growing broad and dark before them. The sun,
sinking over the chalk hills in the west, fell with them,
and left the sky a blaze of gold.
Soon men could be seen as little specks. He heard
a noise coming up to meet him, a noise like the sound
of waves upon a pebbly beach, and saw that the roofs
about the flying stage were dark with his people
rejoicing over his safe return. A dark mass was
crushed together under the stage, a darkness stippled
with
innumerable faces, and quivering with the minute
oscillation of waved white handkerchiefs and waving
hands.
CHAPTER XVII
THREE DAYS
Lincoln awaited Graham in an
apartment beneath
the flying stages. He seemed curious to learn all that
had happened, pleased to hear of the
extraordinarydelight and interest which Graham took in flying
Graham was in a mood of
enthusiasm. "I must learn
to fly," he cried. "I must master that. I pity all poor
souls who have died without this opportunity. The
sweet swift air! It is the most wonderful experience
in the world."
"You will find our new times full of wonderful
experiences," said Lincoln. "I do not know what you
will care to do now. We have music that may seem
novel."
"For the present," said Graham, "flying holds me.
Let me learn more of that. Your aeronaut was saying
there is some trades union
objection to one's learning."
"There is, I believe," said Lincoln. "But for
you--! If you would' like to occupy yourself with
that, we can make you a sworn aeronaut tomorrow."
Graham expressed his wishes
vividly and talked of
his sensations for a while. "And as for affairs," he
asked
abruptly. "How are things going on? "
Lincoln waved affairs aside. "Ostrog will tell you
that tomorrow," he said. "Everything is settling
down. The Revolution accomplishes itself all over
the world. Friction is
inevitable here and there, of
course; but your rule is
assured. You may rest secure
with things in Ostrog's hands."
"Would it be possible for me to be made a sworn
aeronaut, as you call it, forthwith--before I sleep?"
said Graham, pacing. "Then I could be at it the very
first thing tomorrow again.
"It would be possible," said Lincoln thoughtfully.
"Quite possible. Indeed, it shall be done." He
laughed." I came prepared to suggest amusements,
but you have found one for yourself. I will telephone
to the aeronautical offices from here and we will return
to your
apartments in the Wind-Vane Control. By
the time you have dined the aeronauts will be able to
come. You don't think that after you have dined, you
might prefer--?" He paused.
"Yes," said Graham.
"We had prepared a show of dancers -- they have
been brought from the Capri theatre."
"I hate ballets," said Graham,
shortly. "Always
did. That other--. That's not what I want to see.
We had dancers in the old days. For the matter of
that, they had them in ancient Egypt. But flying--"
" True," said Lincoln. "Though our dancers--"
"They can afford to wait," said Graham; "they can
afford to wait. I know. I'm not a Latin. There's
questions I want to ask some expert--about your
machinery. I'm keen. I want no distractions."
"You have the world to choose from," said Lincoln;
"
whatever you want is yours."
Asano appeared, and under the
escort of a strong
guard they returned through the city streets to
Graham's
apartments. Far larger crowds had assembled to
witness his return than his
departure had gathered, and
the shouts and cheering of these masses of people
sometimes drowned Lincoln's answers to the endless
questions Graham's
aerial journey had suggested. At