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Updated: May 1, 2025
And on, on drifted Nissr, askew, up-canted, with the pitiless sunlight of approaching evening in every detail revealing as it slanted in, almost level, over the far-heaving infinitudes of the Atlantic the ravages wrought by flame. Bohannan could not long be silent.
On watch they rested there, while dull umbers of nightfall glowered through the framework of Nissr, tossing in the surf. Without much plan, wrecked, confronted by what seemed perils unsurmountable, the Flying Legion waited for the coming of dark to respite them from sniping.
Before half the distance had been covered to that gleaming beach, hardly six hundred feet lay between the lower gallery of Nissr and the long, white-toothed waves that, slavering, hungered for her gigantic body and the despairing crew she bore. Suddenly the Master spoke into the engine-room telephone. "Can you do any better?" exclaimed the chief. "This is not enough!"
Fruits, pomegranate, syrup, honey, and jild el faras were brought as offerings of gratitude. The crew ascended to the air-liner amid wild shouts of praise and jubilation. Apricot paste in dried sheets, cut into convenient sizes. "You see, Leclair?" the Master inquired, as Nissr drew away once more to eastward, leaving the village in the palms behind. "We hold power already with the sons of Islam!
The dark, taciturn man, for all his self-control, had set teeth into his lip till the blood was all but starting. On, on swooped Nissr. Now the plain was widening. Now, off at the left, behind the shimmer of the wondrous sight that seemed a fantastic city of dreams, long black cliffs had become visible surely some spur of the Iron Mountains, making to southward at the eastern edge of the plain.
As Nissr slowly turned, a trap opened in the bottom of her lower gallery, almost directly between the two forward vacuum-floats, and down sped a little landing nacelle or basket at the end of a fine steel cable. Swiftly the electric winch dropped the nacelle, containing three men. It slowed, at their command, through the phone that led up the wire. With hardly a jar, the basket landed on the roof.
But as that night aboard Nìssr, when he had laid a hand on the woman's cabin door, something unknown to him seemed drawing him to her, making her welfare and her life assume a strange import. "Come, O Frank!" Bara Miyan was saying. The Olema's words recalled the Master to himself with a start. "Such food and drink as we men of El Barr have, gladly we share with thee and thine!"
It showed him the pinions of Nissr gleaming like snow on the velvet plain; showed him, too, the vast sweep of the city's walls. Those walls, no less than a hundred feet high, were cunningly loopholed for defense. They presented a slightly concave façade to the plain, and slanted backward at about the angle of the Tower of Pisa.
Upborne on the wings of the eastward-setting wind, Nissr felt nothing of such trivialities. Twice or thrice, gaps in the cloud-veil let dim ocean appear to the watchers in the glass observation pits; and once they spied a laboring speck on the waters a great passenger-liner, worrying toward New York in heavy weather.
One or two faint shots still popped, along the cliff, with little pin-pricks of fire in the dark. Then all sounds of opposition vanished. The Nissr, upborne at her wonderful climbing-angle toward the clouds painted by her searchlight clouds like a rippled, moonlit veil through which peeped faint stars spiraled above the Hudson and in a vast arc turned her beak into the south. Disorder died.
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