Captain Haddock. It landed in the water in a great wave of spray, then sat rocking on the waves. One of the pilots got out, stood on the pontoon, and worked his way to the front of the fuselage, popping open the cowling over the engine. A cloud of black smoke enveloped him.
Tintin and Captain Haddock, with Snowy between them, huddled against the remains of the lifeboat, kicking their feet to propel it a little closer to the seaplane. The pilot’s voice floated over the water, but they couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Stay here, Captain,” Tintin said.
He dove under the water as Captain Haddock said something—he wasn’t sure what. For as long as he could hold his breath, he kicked along until he came to the rear of one of the seaplane’s floats. He surfaced and quietly gulped in air. “Don’t take your eyes off of them!” the pilot at the cowling was saying.
A second pilot, inside the cockpit, said, “Hurry up!”
The first pilot had waved away most of the smoke. “Just as I thought,” he grumbled. “The ignition lead’s been cut. Lucky shot.”
Tintin swam along under the plane as silently as he could.
“One more pass and we’ll finish them off,” the pilot inside the cockpit was saying.
Here we go
, Tintin thought. He could not let the two pilots get the seaplane back in the air . . . and if it was just an ignition lead, they would have it fixed in no time.
On the other hand, if he could get control of the plane, he could fix the ignition lead himself . . .
Fortune favors the bold
, Tintin told himself. He vaulted up onto the pontoon, the plane rocking with his weight and throwing the pilots off balance. Tintin leveled the flare gun at them and said, “Put your hands in the air!”
They stared at him, amazed. Before either of them had time to get a good look at the gun and figure out that it wouldn’t actually fire bullets, Tintin jammed it into the first pilot’s side. “
Now!
” he yelled.
The pilot’s hands shot into the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Tintin saw that the second pilot inside the cockpit had done the same. Just then, the remains of the lifeboat gently bumped into the pontoon. Snowy scrabbled up onto the plane, and a moment later came Captain Haddock. “Good work, lad,” he said. “Now all we have to do is fly to Bagghar!”
FIVE MINUTES LATER , the pilots were tied up in the back of the plane and Tintin was puzzling over the flight manual. Captain Haddock peered over his shoulder while Snowy growled at the pilots. “You, ah, you
do
know what you’re doing?” Captain Haddock inquired hopefully. “Eh, Tintin?”
“Um,” Tintin said. “More or less.”
He had repaired the ignition lead himself. A wire was a wire; it was easy to fix. Flying a plane, however . . .
“Well, which is it?” Haddock pressed. “More or less?”
Tintin flipped a switch, and the plane’s propeller began to turn as the engine rumbled to life. “Relax,” Tintin said. “I interviewed a pilot once.”
Captain Haddock looked a little green around the gills. Tintin got the plane moving, looking from the instrument panel to the manual and back. From the rear of the plane, he heard one of the pilots say, “Oh, no.”
“Never fear,” Tintin said. He pulled the control stick back, and the seaplane lifted off the ocean’s surface, gaining altitude and arcing away from the drifting bits of the lifeboat, heading in the general direction that Tintin thought the plane had come from in the first place. Now they were back in the hunt! They would surely beat Sakharine to Bagghar by air!
“Which way to North Africa?” he called out over the sound of the engine and the air rushing past the open cockpit window. Snowy was hanging his head out, his ears flapping in the wind.
No one answered. The pilots were sulking in the back, and Captain Haddock was staring out the window. Tintin looked out to see what the captain was looking at. There was a speck on the water, far away,
Tintin and Captain Haddock, with Snowy between them, huddled against the remains of the lifeboat, kicking their feet to propel it a little closer to the seaplane. The pilot’s voice floated over the water, but they couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Stay here, Captain,” Tintin said.
He dove under the water as Captain Haddock said something—he wasn’t sure what. For as long as he could hold his breath, he kicked along until he came to the rear of one of the seaplane’s floats. He surfaced and quietly gulped in air. “Don’t take your eyes off of them!” the pilot at the cowling was saying.
A second pilot, inside the cockpit, said, “Hurry up!”
The first pilot had waved away most of the smoke. “Just as I thought,” he grumbled. “The ignition lead’s been cut. Lucky shot.”
Tintin swam along under the plane as silently as he could.
“One more pass and we’ll finish them off,” the pilot inside the cockpit was saying.
Here we go
, Tintin thought. He could not let the two pilots get the seaplane back in the air . . . and if it was just an ignition lead, they would have it fixed in no time.
On the other hand, if he could get control of the plane, he could fix the ignition lead himself . . .
Fortune favors the bold
, Tintin told himself. He vaulted up onto the pontoon, the plane rocking with his weight and throwing the pilots off balance. Tintin leveled the flare gun at them and said, “Put your hands in the air!”
They stared at him, amazed. Before either of them had time to get a good look at the gun and figure out that it wouldn’t actually fire bullets, Tintin jammed it into the first pilot’s side. “
Now!
” he yelled.
The pilot’s hands shot into the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Tintin saw that the second pilot inside the cockpit had done the same. Just then, the remains of the lifeboat gently bumped into the pontoon. Snowy scrabbled up onto the plane, and a moment later came Captain Haddock. “Good work, lad,” he said. “Now all we have to do is fly to Bagghar!”
FIVE MINUTES LATER , the pilots were tied up in the back of the plane and Tintin was puzzling over the flight manual. Captain Haddock peered over his shoulder while Snowy growled at the pilots. “You, ah, you
do
know what you’re doing?” Captain Haddock inquired hopefully. “Eh, Tintin?”
“Um,” Tintin said. “More or less.”
He had repaired the ignition lead himself. A wire was a wire; it was easy to fix. Flying a plane, however . . .
“Well, which is it?” Haddock pressed. “More or less?”
Tintin flipped a switch, and the plane’s propeller began to turn as the engine rumbled to life. “Relax,” Tintin said. “I interviewed a pilot once.”
Captain Haddock looked a little green around the gills. Tintin got the plane moving, looking from the instrument panel to the manual and back. From the rear of the plane, he heard one of the pilots say, “Oh, no.”
“Never fear,” Tintin said. He pulled the control stick back, and the seaplane lifted off the ocean’s surface, gaining altitude and arcing away from the drifting bits of the lifeboat, heading in the general direction that Tintin thought the plane had come from in the first place. Now they were back in the hunt! They would surely beat Sakharine to Bagghar by air!
“Which way to North Africa?” he called out over the sound of the engine and the air rushing past the open cockpit window. Snowy was hanging his head out, his ears flapping in the wind.
No one answered. The pilots were sulking in the back, and Captain Haddock was staring out the window. Tintin looked out to see what the captain was looking at. There was a speck on the water, far away,
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