The officer stared.

“By George, it’s Charley Smith!  I didn’t know you; you’re like a sweep.  Yes, by George! and I stumped you and got it back on you.  How are you?  Rogers, this is a gentleman of the King’s navee—­Charley Smith, Elphinstone Rogers.”

“How d’e do?  Rummy machine, what!” said Captain Rogers.

“Yes, by George!” said Hawley.  “What’s your little game?”

“I’ve got seven days’ leave, and am off big game hunting.  Can’t wait for liners in these times.”

“You don’t say so!”

“Tigers, eh?” said Rogers.  “Wish I was you!  But is it safe?  Looks uncommon flimsy, what!”

“I hope for the best, but I haven’t got a minute to spare.  Sorry I can’t have a go at your pads again, Hawley.  Finished, Roddy?”

“All complete, mister.”

“All the stuff onboard?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Mr.—­Jones, is it?  Much obliged to you.  Roddy, pay those fellows who’ve carried the stuff, and the drivers.”

He handed him some silver.

“Hoots, man,” said Mr. Macdonald; “that’ll never do.  They’ll swank for a week if you give them all that.  Leave it to me.”

“All right.  You know best.  Many thanks for your help.  Hawley, d’you mind getting your men to clear the course?  I don’t want to break any bones.  And perhaps you’ll send a cable home for me.  Address Thesiger Smith, Cosham.  Say ‘All well.’”

“I’ll do it, with pleasure.”

“Thanks.  Good-bye.  Sorry I’ve got to rush off.”

He shook hands all round, and jumped on board.

Rodier had already taken his place at the engine.  It took a minute or two for the soldiers to force the crowd back, an interval which Smith utilized to trace on the map, for Rodier’s guidance, the course he had decided to follow.  Then, the clatter of the starting engine silencing the clamour of the crowd, the aeroplane ran forward and soared into the air.  Its ascent was hailed with a babel of shouts and cheers.  Smith waved his hand to his friends below; then, seeing that Rodier had the map before him, he spread himself in his seat for a comfortable nap.

CHAPTER VIII

A SHIP ON FIRE

Rodier had his full share of the Gallic dash which had won first honours in airmanship for France, but it was combined with the coolness and circumspection bred of scientific training, so that Smith was able to take repose in serene confidence that, barring accidents, the aeroplane would fly as safely under Rodier’s charge as under his own.  Karachi was soon a mere speck amid the sand.  In less than half-an-hour the aeroplane was crossing the swampy delta of the Indus.  Soon afterwards it flew over the Run of Cutch into Gujarat, leaving the hills of Kathiawar on the right.  Sweeping over the head of the Gulf of Cambay, it crossed the railway line from Bombay to Baroda, and then the broad river Nerbudda.