by Joan Clark
CHAPTER XI
AN AERIAL MESSAGE
Raynor seemed to have drawn as near as he could to the burning plane; hehovered a little above it.
The next instant a coil of rope shot down, fell across the wing below.In a flash the victim of the fire-trap had it in a noose under his armsand swung himself clear of the already crackling wing.
As Raynor gently eased upward to take up any slack in the rope, theflying death below him burst into flame and began to collapse. Some ofthe struts burned through and pieces flew into the radius of thepropeller, which instantly smashed to pieces. Three seconds later themachine began to fall. It staggered, wheeled sideways and dived. Like astone it hurled groundward on the edge of the aviation field.
The crowd scattered in all directions, fleeing from sparks, charred wingpieces, explosion of fuel tank. A hangar roof caught fire and thechemical guns had to be turned on to put out the blaze.
Raynor was coming down now, with his dangling burden swinging beneaththe plane.
The crowd massed again, followed his progress with anxious eyes. How washe going to make it? Would his helpless, half-fainting burden swingagainst building or tree tops, would he be ground-dragged? There was thelake. Would he risk a water landing?
Fuz and Hal, eyes strained upward, shoulder to shoulder in the crowd,seemed to feel their hearts beat as one.
"If only he could drop us word what he wants us to do," moaned Fuz."Needs his radio, or something in the sky--"
"He could telegraph us," said Hal, "if--"
"If he had that old dot-and-dash system we used to hammer to each otheron water pipes--only he's got nothing to hammer--Jumping Jerusalem!"shrieked Fuz. "He's downing come--I mean, come downing--oh-h-h!" andexcitement mixed Fuz's words for him in the old childish manner.
And down Raynor came. With no system of ground communication on hisboat, he had to come as best he could and trust to luck.
Nearer down swung the roped burden. Folks could see now why the boy hadnever jumped from the death-trap of the burning plane--his parachutepack hung in scorched shreds. Sparks must have done for him there firstof all.
Sensing a ground-drag, Raynor rose a bit, then lowered, and withmasterly hand held the ship to steady placement in air, while menreached upward to receive the boy. Someone had had presence of mind tostand by with opened knife--a slash at the rope and the boy was free.They laid him out, insensible, but with life still in him--a marvel,after the danger he had incurred.
Raynor landed farther out, taxied in. He crawled from his ship withknees trembling beneath him. The strain on him had been terrific.
Now that it was all over, Hal found his own limbs quivering. This thinghad unnerved him--and others too. All about him he saw men with lipsstill white from the strain, bodies relaxed, huddling against somesupport.
He had thought that in the face of such near-tragedy, school schedulewould be broken, the remaining flights for the day be put off. Butno--already an instructor had swung round in quick reproof on a boy whohad developed nerves and was begging off.
"Planes out for the next flight up!" barked the pilot. "Danger is theaviator's schoolmaster--we must learn from everything."
On his way to the hangar, Hal passed Fuz, already climbing in a cockpit,and whispered, "I've thought of something--am going to send you amessage in the sky--listen for it."
For the flyers in the sky, the rest of the afternoon was a busy time.With each student in his plane went a data board and on it he was to domap-work, but not the usual maps that land folks know.
This was the class in meteorology, or the study of the air itself. HalDane was finding that flying was a complex vocation. Acquiring aircraftknowledge required study in such varied directions--study of iron andsteel and linen and silk, the compass and oils and combustion, and nowtoday, the study of what effect the sun has on the earth.
The sun, Hal decided, was the cause of a great deal of trouble. As hestudied, he found that the sun by shining brightly in the morning heatedup the earth and the air above it. Then the warm air expanded and tookup moisture. In the afternoon, when the sun began to go down, the aircooled and descended towards earth. And that was where troublesgenerated. In the cooling, particles of air moisture condensed, thenelectricity accumulated--then next, like as not, a thunderstorm burst.
An aviator had to know these and a million other things, so as to gaugeoncoming air disturbances, and dodge twisters and storm winds bydropping to a calmer level, or rising above storm.
In the days of his old glider experiments, Hal had found for himselfthat winds are generally prevalent over waters, and that hills makerising currents one can soar upon.
Now this deeper study of winds and fogs, of up and down currents, of thestartlingly strange effects that water, forests and deserts have uponair currents--all this fascinated him.
As he read the air-speed indication and the altitude on his instruments,his busy hand drew waves and spiral lines on his data board--his map,showing currents and lay-out of the air stratum he had been assigned to.
He loved the work, could have kept at it hours longer, but dusk wascoming on, the other planes were already dropping down.
Old Fuz was still up. Hal suddenly remembered the ridiculous whisperedpromise he had made to Fuz. He began to circle the other plane, sendinghis own engine into a sharp staccato sputtering: "T-t-t-tat t-tat tat!"
Hal swept closer. "T-tat t-tat!" roared his engine.
Fuz must be working his brain overtime on wavy line maps, must be asleepat the stick or something. It was exasperating. And he had told Fuz tobe on the lookout.
Hal zoomed high, then circled low again, sending his engine into such asputter that it began to miss and he had to shoot the juice to it andfly straight for a stretch.
Fuz was a dumb-head, he was a--
Of a sudden Hal broke out into a laugh and whirled his plane back intohis circling above the landing field.
A staccato t-t-t-tat from the other plane had answered him. Good oldFuz, he hadn't forgotten after all!
For half an hour longer the two boys circled high and low in the air,making their engines "talk" in a sputter of aerial telegraphy based onthe old dot-and-dash code they had worked out long ago in their tappingson land things, on stones, on water pipe.
With practice, they found they could speed and cut the engine to seriesof staccato barks that simulated fair enough the tap of a telegraphinstrument. They felt foolishly exuberant and tapped each other allkinds of messages.
They landed in the dusk with planes gassy with engine fumes, but withhappy-go-lucky laughter in their own hearts.
It was laughter that soon ceased, for each walked straight into thegrasp of an enraged official, posted to wait for them.
"Your flying days are over," each was informed, and was ordered toreport to the office after the evening meal.
Neither Hal nor Fuz had any hankering for supper that night. As soon asthe seemingly endless meal was over, they hurried, rather white-lipped,to the office.
There they found awaiting them, assembled like a judge and jury, Mr.Rand, Colonel Elwin himself, Raynor, Weston and a couple of otherinstructors. Raynor and Weston had the drawn, haggard look of mensitting in at their own execution. There was a hard firmness on thefaces of the other men.
Hal Dane sought with agony in his heart for the clue to this summons toappear before a judgment seat--this summons and the verdict alreadyrendered, "Your flying days are over," that had dropped like a ton ofrock on all his hopes, crushed out his whole future. And it washappening so close to what would have been the first glorious upwardstep in his career,--his graduation from an accredited aviation school.With the Rand-Elwin O. K. on him he could have secured a flying jobanywhere--the flying world would have been open to him.
What would his mother and Uncle Tel do--how would he ever go back tothem, broken under some sort of disgrace--
Hal's misery of trapped thoughts whirling madly in his bra
in wasinterrupted by the firm harshness of Colonel Elwin's voice.
"I have here," his hands turning over several cards and slips of paper,"reports from various ground officials that you two students stayed inthe air an hour overtime this afternoon, tampering with engines, andriding with motors missing--when every principle of air flight warns aflyer to seek a landing when his motor misses. No matter how well a manflies, we can never make an aviator out of him if he hasn't sense enoughto know that he is in deadly peril if he continues to fly a missingengine. A knock in a motor presages engine trouble, and engine troublepresages a forced landing. At the first hint of mechanical defection,it's a flyer's duty to head down and make as speedy and safe a landingas possible--"
"I--" Hal Dane opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. No wordsseemed to come.
Colonel Elwin went on without pause, as though he had heard nointerruption.
"It is, of course, a disappointment to us to have this serious flaw inyour flying ability revealed. Especially since one of you boys had beenbrought to our notice as having rather a genius for mechanics, a talentfor engines and an outlook for the future of motors from an aerialviewpoint. That's what makes it so heinous, so foolish for one who knowsengines to be willing to tamper with them dangerously in mid-air, torisk valuable life and valuable machinery.
"What, may I ask, was your idea in generating peril for yourselves up inthe air?"
"We--I mean--I was testing out a sort of aerial telegraphy," Hal finallygot the words out, "and--"
"Aerial telegraphy--what?" both Mr. Rand and Colonel Elwin seemed toejaculate simultaneously.
"It was my fault, not McGinnis's," said Hal, stiffening his back alittle, and trying to keep his voice firm. "I thought it up and got himto try it out with me--"
"I was in it as much as Hal Dane," Fuz seemed to have found his voice."I'm plumb due to get washed out if he is."
"Aerial telegraphy--what was your idea--how were you managing it?" Mr.Rand leaned forward.
"You see Fuz McGinnis and I have known each other always. We used tohave a secret dot-and-dash code when we lived back home, used to tapeach other messages." Hal seemed to forget for the moment that he was upbefore the "Benzine Board," was being washed out of flying foreverperhaps. He warmed to his subject. "It just occurred to me that while wewere up in the air, it might come in pretty handy sometime to send theother fellow a message. You might need to tell him something, or ask forhelp quick! The motor running is about all you can hear in the airplane.So it just came to me to take a try at making the motor do the talking,to cut it and race it in a sort of code."
"Did it work?" questioned Mr. Rand.
"It sure did!" Fuz answered. "Dane asked me if I was hungry, and Itapped back to him I could eat a--"
"So it did work," put in Mr. Rand. "Interesting--"
"Quite interesting, and quite dangerous!" Colonel Elwin's dry, hardvoice took up the case again. "You boys risked clogging your motors, andweakening down the exhaust valves, incandescence from carbon!"
"But don't you think--" Mr. Rand had the floor again--"don't you thinkthat since it was not mere useless daredeviltry but a real experimentthat these boys were trying out, that we might--"
"Well--er, yes, I might be made to see it that way." A ghost of a smiletugged at Colonel Elwin's iron mouth. "Shall we let this case drop intowhat we call suspended judgment?"
"Ah-h!" A vast sigh of relief burst from both boys.
"But remember," Elwin's jaw settled back into its iron firmness, "thejudgment still hangs over you--it's merely suspended. No more tamperingwith engines in the air."
