CHAPTER VI
Beyond the Equator
IN the little Chilean port of Caldera a solitary guest sat in the restaurant. A dark brown linen suit amply covered his slender little figure. On his head was an immense broad-brimmed straw hat. He appeared to be over fifty, but his quick movements indicated youthful elasticity.
In boredom he stared, now into the half-empty coffee cup standing on the marble table before him, now through the hardly transparent window panes into the almost empty street, which had a dazzling glow in the noon sun and sent harsh lights into the narrow uncomfortable restaurant.
“Steward!” he cried loudly into the corner, where at the bar a dark-skinned waiter in a white coat was leaning and lazily watching the mazy dancing of the mosquitos.
“At your service, your grace!” announced the mulatto in
Spanish, without stirring from the spot.
“The devil!” thundered the guest. “Step nearer, boy!”
Slowly the waiter paraded up on his horribly long and shaky
legs.
“The whiskey has to be fetched from the States, does it? I've been waiting almost an hour now. What's the matter?”
“Your grace will be served at once!” A poor attempt at a bow emphasized the politeness of the words. “The liquor is in the icehouse at the harbor. We seldom have guests so early. We are not provided for them.”
“But the harbor is not a quarter of a league away! How does it take so long?”
“Pardon me, your grace! No one has gone to the ice-house yet.”
“What! No one gone yet! Man, what game are you playing on me?”
“The little ladino isn't here yet, and your grace must see that I can't possibly go myself and leave the business to take care of itself.”
“Where is the scamp?”
“Who knows?” replied the waiter, shrugging his shoulders and speaking in all seriousness.
The guest looked at his watch. Only half past eleven! How slowly the time passed! “Have you the Santiago Times here?” he asked.
“Certainly, your grace!”
The mulatto went to the bar, pawed over a mountain of crumpled papers, and after a long search pulled out a newspaper of immense size, which he handed the guest with irresistible grandiosity.
“Damn it! This dates from the time of the late Christopher Columbus!” cried the guest in disappointment, after he had cast a glance at the front page.
“It is the latest number, your grace!”
“Your latest number is three weeks old!”
“The service between Santiago and Caldera is often very irregular, your grace!” was the extremely polite
Grumbling, the guest buried himself in the long, closely printed pages, and the waiter resumed his position as onlooker at the corner of the bar.
The mosquitos were buzzing. A sleepy feeling came over the reader. He was just about to/lay down the paper with a yawn, when his eye fell on a small item which seemed to fix his interest. He spread out the wide sheets on the table, smoothed them out, and bent over them eagerly.
The news item was from Mexico City and was dated May 15. It ran as follows:
A STRANGE PHENOMENON IN THE SKY
According to information from Merida, a peculiar and mysterious natural phenomenon was observed during the night of May 13 over the northern portions of the peninsula of Yucatan. About an hour Before midnight small clouds here and there shone without evident cause in a yellowish light of such intensity that the deep darkness of the summer night was changed into a dull twilight, similar to the illumination in the case of a total eclipse of the sun.
The phenomenon lasted exactly eight minutes, according to all reports. Apparently this is a case of electrical equilibrium phenomena in the atmosphere—a. sort of heat lightning, favored by the unusual heat and dryness of the past dry season.
Berger and Finkle
A TRICKY smile passed over the clever, wrinkled face of the guest, and his left eye winked cunningly.
“An imaginative people, these Latin Americans!” he thought with a grin, while he reached in his pockets' and searched around among a, collection of pipes of all sizes, until he found a tobacco pouch of immense size. With extreme care he filled a very brown meerschaum pipe, slowly moved the blazing match back and forth over the glowing particles of tobacco, and puffed mighty clouds of smoke over the coffee cup which still stood waiting for further use.
From the harbor sounded long drawn out, shrill whistles, the steam sirens announcing the noon hour.
The glass doors of the restaurant were hurriedjr pulled open. A broad-shouldered man of middle stature entered quickly and searched the room with a glance. His energetic white face, striking in these latitudes, colored with pleasure at the discovery of the solitary guest.
“Yes, thank Heaven, here we are!” he called from across the rows of tables. “How are things going with you here in Chile, doctor? This damned heat! I'm sweating like the engine of a torpedo boat!”
“I've been sweating this way for months, Mr. Berger!” The guest rose and shook hands with the newcomer. “And you let me wait a day longer than was agreed! Have you been occupied up there with so serious a game of cards that you quite forgot old Sam in this God-forsaken corner of the world?”
Berger shrugged his shoulders. “It isn't my fault, doctor! As soon as we get into regions where people live, our troubles begin.” He pulled out a large handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
“Has anything happened?”
Berger looked cautiously around in the restaurant. When he discovered nobody but the sleeping waiter, he asked in a lowered tone, “Does that man understand German?”
“That would be asking too much of a Chilean barkeeper, Berger. Speak on without fear!”
“Well,” went on Berger, “nothing has really happened, but there have been delays. Yesterday, when we sailed over the bay about seven thousand meters up, to find an entrance, there was so much shipping down on the coast that we couldn't possibly descend without being seen. Then we had to go far out to sea to come down without being observed. We slowly came along to the coast under water. That took eight hours. But in front of the bay is a barrier of sharp reefs, one shallow behind another. Entering under water was impossible. So we came up and got right within telescopic range of a Japanese steamer. You know how all the world is trying to find out about our ships. Meetings must at all events be avoided. So down we went again to the jelly-fishes and star-fishes! Well, it was night before we finally succeeded in getting over the reefs and disembarking in the bay. Nothing more could be done at night. Probably I should have looked for you in vain.”
“Where is your ship now?”
“In the bay, on the bottom.”
“Well it's a mighty good thing that you finally got here, Berger. By Jupiter, tomorrow I should have been gone. You would have had a fine time asking your way through a country where everything is .on a grand scale, even to storms. Do you think I'm going to stay here forever, feeding on wretched tortillas and fighting for every drop of decent alcohol?”
“But I see there's no lack of tobacco!” remarked Berger pleasantly.
“I should say! If that had been so, instead of Samuel Finkle you would have found a fine corpse.”
“Where do you want to go, doctor?”
“Where? Only a person who has fallen from the moon could ask a question like that. Home, of course! My practice is falling off, and Mother Barbara's wines are spoiling!”
Berger sank back in his chair. “When do you want to be in Friedrichshafen?”
“Want!” grumbled Finkle. “As though that depended on me! Yesterday a cutter went to Antofagasta to connect with the King George of the Valparaiso-Panama-London line. In five weeks I should have been in Rotterdam. Now a steamer is going tomorrow to Valparaiso. But there I'd have to wait at least a week for the next Hamburg-American ship. It will be on your conscience, Berger, if my patients die out and Mother Barbara has to close her cafe for want of customers!”
“Don't worry, doctor! You'll easily catch up with King George.”
“You mean...?”
Berger nodded. “Certainly! I mean that you'll go with us.”
“But aren't you starting for—for up there?”
“Surely. It will certainly interest you to become acquainted with our splendid construction up there. Or wouldn't it?”
“I want to go home, Berger. I've had enough of this vagabond life.”
“Doctor, it is far from my intention to keep you at Astropol. Immediately after my arrival Mr. Korf will start in the R. K. Ill tor the plant on Lake Constance, where lie is to present to the company council on the twelfth the results of his new experiments with electron rockets. To-day is June 7. If all goes well, we shall be up there on the tenth, and you can then go right on to Friedrichshafen with Mr. Korf. Thus in all probability you can be in Mother Barbara's cafe by the evening of the twelfth at the latest.”
The doctor's mouth remained open in astonishment. “What! Five days from Chile to Lake Constance?”
“By way of Astropol, doctor! Unfortunately I cannot afford you the pleasure of going directly to Germany. That would of course take hardly twelve hours.”
There was a brief pause, while Dr. Samuel Finkle took in the unheard-of proposition. Then he struck his hand on the table, so forcibly that the waiter started up out of his nap.
“Lads! You are the stuff!” he cried enthusiastically: “We must drink to your health! Hey, waiter!”
The mulatto, knowing no German, did not stir.
“But,” added old Sam, as he was fond of being called, “maybe we shall be at Mother Barbara's before that chap brings the whisky. You'll have to content yourself meantime with coffee. That's excellent, anyway.”
When Berger declined with thanks, Sam remarked, “Then do at least light a cigar. Unfortunately I can't offer you one. I've nothing but tobacco, and I believe you don't smoke a pipe. Or do you? Then go ahead! How is it possible to flit around our globe as though it had shrunk like a toy balloon with the gas leaked out? What new discoveries have you made?”
“Why talk of new discoveries?” replied Berger. “We've simply applied the rocket principle to ordinary aeronautics. That's all. In this way we get speeds up to 500 meters a second, which are impossible for airships with propellers.”
“Five hundred meters a second?” repeated Sam, amazed. “That's—why it's almost 2000 kilometers an hour!”
“Certainly! Simple propeller airships can't accomplish that, even with the most powerful motors. The propeller needs dense layers of air to be effective. For this reason airships are limited to the lower altitudes. But the highest layers, with extremely thin air and little resistance, are exactly the right medium for speedy fliers like our rocket machines. One thing helps another there: the thin air allows tremendous speeds, and the speed of the flight replaces the greater supporting power of denser regions of air.”
Unforeseen Delay
FOR some time Berger went on talking about the new machines, arousing in old Sam the greatest curiosity with regard to the adventurous flight that was soon to take place.
Then Berger suddenly asked, “Is the cargo ready, doctor?”
Sam gave a reassuring gesture, calculated to remove all doubt. “For four days the petroleum casks have been ready at the bay.”
“How much?”
“Eleven tons net weight, as agreed.”
“Is the weight exact? You know how important that is!”
“It has all been weighed twice, every cask alone, and then the entire load together. It all agrees.”
“Good! How long do you need to turn over the work?”
“One afternoon will be enough. In three hours by auto we can be up at the saltpeter mines in the mountains. Who is replacing me?”
“The engineer Zimmerman. You know him from the laboratory at Friedrichshafen. He is waiting for us at the bay. If we start at once, we'll be back by night, load up immediately and leave before morning.”
He got up as though wishing to lose no more time. “Where's your car?”
“Under a safe roof!” Finkle calmly puffed away at his pipe and gave no sign of intending to get up. “Naturally you're in a hurry, after making me wait here until I've actually become rooted. Just sit down again, Berger. We still have a long time.”
“A long time? I thought you were in a hurry to get home.”
“A day more or less doesn't matter to me.”
“But why waste time here?”
Berger appeared vexed, but the physician remained unperturbed in his calmness.
“First, I don't want to abandon the whiskey I ordered two hours ago!” he remarked, pleasantly. “I'm parched for a real drink.”
“If that's all,” put in Berger, impatiently, “I have some bottles of excellent liquor on board.”
“Second, we must wait for the rain to stop. It ceases at three o'clock.”
In surprise Berger looked from the placid face of the speaker out
into the street, where the sun was shining brightly. “Are you seeing things, doctor? Where is it raining?”
“It's evident, Berger, that you haven't traveled much on this earth. Watch out: it's now half past twelve, and at one o'clock sharp the flood-gates of the sky will open, so that you'll thank Heaven and me that you didn't go out. At three o'clock sharp the sun will come out again for the rest of the day. Can you make that out, or shall I write it down for you?”
“Do you believe in the tree-frogs, doctor?” cried Berger. “Your prophesying is a bit incredible.”
“The speech of youth is hasty!” philosophized the old doctor. “My prophecy is exact—more punctual than you! Depend upon it! This is the beginning of the rainy season. Every day from one to three in the afternoon all the streets are regularly flooded. The sky in these parts is ordered and disciplined.”
With an incredulous smile Berger sat down again.
“A wild storm outside the regular hours,” continued Finkle, “is here one of the rarest phenomena of nature and disturbs everybody. Anyway, here is an example for you.”
He took up the newspaper and read aloud the item about the “strange phenomenon in the sky.”
“What have you to say about this untimely heat lightning?” His sharp little eyes sparkled with pleasure under his scanty eyebrows.
“What have I to say about it?” Berger laughed aloud. “I say that Korf will do well to study up the weather conditions of every spot on earth before continuing his experiments.”
“I thought,” agreed the physician with a smile of satisfaction, “that he had a hand in the game. But how and why—that's really rather beyond me as yet.”
“For the present it is to remain as secret as possible, doctor! ‘As secret as the sodium transportation which we carry on from all parts of the world.”
“This damned secrecy has banished me for six months to the Chilean saltpeter mines!” grumbled Finkle. “Heaven knows that he could have found a more suitable person. I should never have dreamed of having to play the part of director of a Solvay plant!”
“Well, you seem to have solved your problem as well as any chemical engineer could have done. You know that Korf must by all means avoid taking too many persons into his confidence. Just yourself, as a much traveled globe-trotter—pardon me, as an experienced traveler—well, you were undoubtedly the right man for the difficult start in Chile.”
“Just pin on me the Order of the—”
A loud crash swallowed up the rest of the sentence. More crashes followed in quick succession. The window panes rattled. The sunlight vanished, and a yellowish twilight settled heavily over the streets, which suddenly became uncannily dark and gloomy. The roar of thunder filled the air, as though the Wild Huntsman and his band were riding over Caldera.
Then the rain broke loose. It was as though a giant hand had lifted the basin of the ocean and poured it over the continent. In a few moments the streets were rushing rivers.