A hundred feet in air they swept on. Catching his breath, Pant unbuckled his harness. Johnny and the Professor followed his example. The next second, with a strange, land-like breath of air sweeping up to them, they passed over the very fringe-tops of the palms. One moment later they were standing up in their craft, which gently rose and fell with the water. Without a word they solemnly shook hands.
There are moments in the life of every person when he feels himself so closely welded to the life of some other one that only death can separate them. Johnny felt that such a time had arrived in his life. He and Pant were already inseparable. Now, by this simple, silent handshake, they took the Professor into their narrow circle. They had suffered in peril together.
They were now on a narrow island of the Pacific in a seaplane without fuel, and with provisions for but a day. Come what might, they would stick together until the end.
Their first precaution was to bring their plane as close in shore as the shallow water would permit, then to anchor it securely. After that they unfolded a small, collapsible boat and prepared to make their way ashore.
“If inhabited, cannibal or otherwise?” Johnny smiled back.
“I hope we are not to tarry here long,” said the Professor.
“We’ll tarry until we discover some fuel, and I don’t think green palm trees will be of much use,” said Johnny seriously. “Have you anything to suggest?”
The Professor seemed inclined to take these remarks as being in the form of a joke, but seeing that Johnny was serious, he said, as his brow wrinkled:
“It is really very important that we be on our way. We cannot be more than a hundred miles from our destination.”
“Perhaps not even that,” said Pant, “but they may be very hard miles to travel.”
“If we only were there,” sighed Johnny. “There is sure to be coal on the wreck.”
“But, since we’re not, let’s explore our island,” suggested Pant.
“And sleep,” said Johnny. “I’m about to fall asleep as I walk.”
“Better bring the rifles,” suggested Pant. “Doesn’t seem likely that there is a single living soul on this island—it’s no more than a coral rock sticking up out of the sea; can’t be two miles long—but you never can tell.”
Johnny brought two rifles from the plane. After rubbing the moisture from their barrels, he slipped a handful of cartridges in each, and set them up in the bow of the boat.