Five Weeks in a Balloon Page #4

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We must find a place to land.

That's a good idea if we can

get through this boiled cabbage.

Please, don't mention food.

Open space ahead!

Hey, that's a pretty big city.

Aye, a town that size,

we must've been blown south.

Unless I'm out of my wits,

this must be Hezak.

Better dress up a bit.

Natives are always impressed by a uniform.

Come along.

Put away your gun, lad.

As long as they're afraid

of the balloon, we might be safe.

I'm counting on it.

A situation like this

calls for very careful handling.

General, I bow to your experience.

You'd better take over.

Oh, of course. My good man,

we have a leaky balloon.

- You mean that you don't

understand the language?

Oh, good heavens, no. All natives

should learn the queen's English.

General, I don't know

what I'd do without your help.

- Moon god.

- What's a moon god?

What's the fellow saying?

They believe our balloon is the moon,

and the moon god is paying a visit.

- Moon god? Me, of course.

- No. O'Shay.

They believe you're the moon god's

slave with the three eyes.

Slave? Ha!

What impertinence.

Me moon god?

Why me moon god?

Why? Because you're

redheaded and handsome...

at least to their uncivilized eyes.

- Thank you.

- If I'm a slave, what are you?

I'm the moon god's medicine man...

- and their sick sultan's in need of my ministrations.

- Oh.

What'd you tell the fellow?

I said that we'd go along.

Jacques! First aid kit.

- Yes, sir.

- And the moon god's slave will carry that.

- And make that repair fast.

- Yes, sir.

Slave indeed. What will they say

at the Cavalry Club?

Probably "piffle."

What if-What if the sultan dies?

Well, you'll never make it

back to the moon, lad.

Aye, he's sick.

A severe attack of pompyitis.

- Pompy-what-is?

- Pompy's a powerful native drink.

He's looped. He's fried to the gills.

Any black coffee around?

We've got something

more stimulating. Slave, ammonia.

- Slave, ammonia.

- Play your part, man. Can't you grovel a bit?

- Can't you grovel a bit?

- Prepare to run if this doesn't work.

The sultan's a god here.

Keep your fingers crossed, laddies.

He's telling the sultan who we are.

He's calling for more wine

and a feast to boot.

- This will last for hours.

- He'll never make it to the dessert.

Ah, you were quite right, laddie.

He'll not make it.

It's a dance in your honor.

Sort of challenge.

Oh, how nice.

Well, carry on, my loyal subjects!

I accept your homage.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Wait a minute! Break it up!

Take your hands off the moon god! Hey!

Hey! Hey, wait a minute!

What-What are you doing?

Hey, hey! Wait a minute, fellas! Whoa!

Whoa! Whoa! Fergusson!

Keep still, man!

They challenge your courage.

Move, and you're a pin cushion.

I- I thought I was a moon god!

Aye, and a punctured one

if you don't bide still.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Easy! Easy! I'm ticklish!

Easy with those toad stickers!

Easy, now. That's nice.

Hey! Easy. Professor!

Whoa! Oh, I missed one!

Huh? What? Boys! Whoa!

Hey! W-Watch that!

Take your-Whoa!

That fella's dead drunk again.

Aye, dead's the word.

It's time we were toddling.

Fergusson!

- I don't want to be a moon god.

- Ah, steady, lad. Steady.

It's your turn to be

a moon god, General.

Watch your tongue, sir.

He's calling for Ahmed the slaver.

Get away from me,

or I'll kill you! I swear it!

Help me! Help me!

You belong to the sultan!

Go to him.

I won't! I won't!

Wait a minute.

What's going on here?

- That's terribly bad form, sir.

- Be quiet, both of you!

Look here, lassie.

Leave this to us.

And you'd better watch your step.

You're in the presence of the moon god.

Moon god? Oh, pardon me.

How come the moon god speaks English?

Never mind that.

She's leaving with us right now.

- No.

- Try and stop us. You're talkin' to the moon god!

What's that? Since when

are two moons in the sky?

What's the toper saying?

- That we're fakes and the jig is up.

- Oh.

Whoops. Go!

Bye.

Run!

Are you all right, lass?

Boy, what a close call.

And who's to blame, sir?

You, sir.

- Me, sir?

- Moon god indeed. Ha!

- Slave. Ha!

- Take care of her, lass.

Watch out!

- Oh, look who's here.

- Throw him overboard!

No, that's not our way.

But what do we do with him now?

Not quite so violent, sir.

Sorry.

Water! What are you

trying to do- poison me?

Poison too good for you.

Throw him to jackals!

No, he is our prisoner of war

and must be taken back to stand trial.

- What have you got there?

- Nice medals, huh?

British campaign medals?

Professor, look at these.

China, India.

Where did you steal these from?

What? I don't steal!

I'm an honest slave trader.

Oh, uh, little things,

they come my way once in a while.

- Like this? Diamonds?

- Oh.

- Great Scott! Look at these.

- Search him.

Yes, go on. Search him. Search him.

These must be worth millions.

You stole these from the sultan.

Allah gives.

Allah takes away.

He certainly does.

I confiscate this booty.

It goes to the British Crown.

Uh-uh, not all of it. International law

states we get 50 percent as finder's fee.

That is correct.

I'll hold it for safekeeping.

- What's happening?

- Come on down, miss.

- Here, take these, Jacques.

- Yes, sir.

Don't be alarmed, miss.

He's our prisoner now.

Sit here, young lady.

There. Right there.

- Thank you.

- This is Mr. Donald O'Shay.

- Of the Randolph Press, ma'am.

- My young friend Jacques.

- Ma'am.

- Makia you know.

- She's been very kind.

- Sir Henry Vining.

Military commander

of the expedition.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

And I'm Samuel Fergusson of Scotland.

How do you do?

I'm Susan Gale from Virginia.

I was teaching at the Dodoma Mission

when, uh, he raided us.

Business is business.

It's a vicious business-

brutal and inhuman.

Aye. That's why we're

headed for the Volta River.

The Volta? Oh, but you'll never make it.

- Oh, we will, miss.

- Please believe me, I know.

I've lived in Africa

for over six years.

We must. We're racing

a band of slavers.

If we plant our flag first, we'll prevent

the area from falling into their clutches.

Why, I can hardly believe it.

You mean someone's

finally taking action?

Well, not all of us.

It seems that Mr. O'Shay here is

indifferent to the suffering of others-

unless it happens to be a bonny

young lass like you or Makia here.

Now, just a minute.

When I said the slave trade's no concern

of the newspaper or my assignment-

Trafficking in human lives

is everybody's concern.

Either your for it or against it.

I'm for it.

Miss Gale, you missed my point entirely.

Shh!

Listen.

Can you interpret the message

of those drums, miss?

Yes. They-

They say, " White demons...

"are riding across the sky.

Catch them."

And they also say...

"Kill them and burn them."

You'll make a juicy dish.

English roast.

You like pretty dress?

She real lady now.

- You mean the chimp or me?

- Oh, both.

Well, lass, you look bonny

in Mr. O'Shay's hand-me-downs.

I never looked as good

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