Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [49]
Now, he hoped he had it right. He could think of no other way to explore his island so quickly, or thoroughly.
Judging from how hard the wind tugged on the broad frame, as if impatient to be off, Nemo decided the glider-wings should be sufficient to hold his weight aloft. Ocean winds whipped around the high plateau above the cliffs of Granite House. He prayed that a crossbreeze wouldn’t slam him back against the sheer rock face.
He had investigated his island as much as possible on foot, but areas of dense jungle and parts of the rocky shoreline remained inaccessible. The thought of looking down like a seagull from above fired his imagination.
As he strapped himself into the kite framework, the huge wings spread like a hawk’s against an updraft. He had already walked underwater near the Nantes shipyards; the air would offer him an entirely different perspective. From a fish to a bird.
Despite his tests and checks, he knew he was taking a grave risk. With a capricious downdraft, he could well be dashed against the rocks. Even if he received only a common injury -- a broken leg or a shoulder twisted out of its socket -- Nemo had no one to tend him, no one to help. He would be on his own. But he steeled himself -- he was accustomed to that.
The wind stung his eyes, and he wished Caroline could be there to watch him, to cheer him on. Determined, he took two running steps to the abrupt cliff and jumped out into the open air . . . and kept going.
The brisk wind caught the giant kite and jerked Nemo up so sharply that his head struck the bamboo framework. His flight steadied, and the breezes took him where they would, an invisible and gentle escort. The cloth creaked against the framework, taut, and he seemed to be completely motionless, just hanging high above the ground.
After recovering his breath, Nemo laughed with delight.
He tilted his arms, banking the glider to test his degree of control. Only by looking at landmarks on the ground could he determine how fast and how far he was moving. His feet dangled, and he had a sickening sense of vertigo, just suspended high in the air, but then the excitement captured him once more, and he stared with wide, hungry eyes.
Circling around again, he flew back toward the meadow where he looked down at his corralled goats and the skewed square of his vegetable garden. From there, Nemo soared above the densest jungles where he spotted new streams, a breathtaking sheltered waterfall, and small ponds he hadn’t known existed (and which might contain good freshwater fish).
As he glided along, he calculated his rate of descent, surprised at the amount of time he could remain aloft. Breezes caught him again, and he spiraled higher in the updraft. He ranged even farther, over a spit of land that formed another cove on the mostly inaccessible south end of the island.
To his astonishment, he saw a cleared area at the crook of the long promontory -- as well as the weathered skeleton of an overturned rowboat and a collapsed lean-to shelter. Someone else had been shipwrecked here! His heart pounded at the discovery. Could anyone still be alive? He had to see, had to determine how long ago these visitors had been there. Maybe he wasn’t alone on this island after all.
Nemo tilted his glider wings and angled toward the spot. Once he landed, it would be a painstaking process to detach the cloth from the framework and disassemble it -- and a long walk back to Granite House -- but it would be worth the effort if he received an answer to his question.
He landed hard on the beach, wrenching his ankle and ran like an albatross, trying to come to rest. He unfastened his arms from the glider and let go, rolling on his back as the breezes blew the framework against the hummocks of dunes. Limping on his sore ankle, Nemo ran after the glider wings and caught them. He used his knife to cut the lashing and removed the fabric, folding