CHAPTER XXIII.
RIDING A HURRICANE.
"We did the trick in fine style," proclaimed Jimmy Stetson, at nextsight of the young aviators, "but twice we missed a mine by eyelashlength, and I warrant if we hadn't, your record of lofty travel would beknocked in the head."
"We had some little experience ourselves," modestly advanced Billy.
The three boys, perched on a cracker box, compared notes until Jimmy wascalled away by a submarine lieutenant.
"What is on our list to-day?"
Henri pretended to look for answer to his chum's question in aworse-for-wear notebook.
"Only a dinner engagement," he gravely stated, "and that's four hours tocome."
"Here comes Lieutenant Moppa," observed Billy; "maybe he can prescribesomething besides a rest cure."
"You might suggest, Buddy, that we all go over and knock a chip off theold town."
Henri was referring to Constantinople.
"Do your own suggesting," advised Billy, rising to greet the Russianofficer. "We were just talking, sir, about the effect of nothing-to-doon the nerves."
"How long have you been at peace with yourselves and the world?"laughingly queried the lieutenant.
"I think about nine hours now," replied Billy, looking at his batteredsilver watch.
"You will be going to seed, I am sure, if this state of thingscontinues. By the way," continued the officer, "I was about to tell youthat the big airship is going into commission for a run around to theGulf of Enos, backing up the British move on the Turkish port there.Heavy bombardment is already in progress, I am told, and we propose toshow our allies that all the shaking up of the enemy is not to beperformed by the land and water forces. As you know, we can put a choicelot of bomb droppers into the game. The largest aeroplane in the worlddid not come over here just for a show."
"Thought you were not going to make your move until the warships gotready to break through the straits," interposed Billy.
"That is just it," said the lieutenant; "they are not in quite the shapefor the grand rush, and in the meantime I want to get in a helpingstroke wherever else I can. There is too much of the 'Sikorsky' to knockabout in these little scouting operations, but the kind of an engagementnow going on at Enos, I believe, is something nearer our size."
This talk was interrupted by terrific cannonading. Four British warshipshad entered the Dardanelles and were shelling the Turkish forts--gettingvigorous response from the shore batteries.
The boys caught sight of Captain Johnson hustling for the water front,and so apparent was their anxiety to get on the trail of their oldfriend that the Russian officer told them to skip out, but on no accountto fail in reporting to him the following morning.
"Hold on there, my lads," called Josh Freeman, whose track they crossed,and who also seemed to be answering an emergency summons, "Johnson isn'tgoing to start till I catch up, and maybe we will give you a lift."
For this very invitation the boys were hoping, and they immediatelyreduced speed to correspond with the slower stride of the veteranaviator.
"Ordered to signal work," announced the captain, as Josh and the boysjoined him.
"Who's up for pilots?" queried Freeman.
"The commander left the details to me," rejoined Johnson.
"We're 'it' then," declared Billy.
"You take a whole lot for granted," bantered the captain, with a wink atJosh.
The young aviators had their way, for it was just the way that suitedCaptain Johnson.
Hovering over the warships engaged in the bombardment, Johnson andFreeman, as observers and signal scouts, by the flag code kept the rangefinders on the gun decks apprised of the shots that told, as well asthose that were ineffective.
They also showed the sign of warning against the approach of severalTurkish torpedo boats, which were quickly turned by the hot receptionmeasures taken by the warship gunners.
Several times in the lower strata the circling biplanes were jarred anddangerously shaken by the concussion of the tremendous gun-play.
On these occasions a rapid upshoot restored the fluttering flyingmachines again to even keel.
For three or four hours the four daring aviators were aloft and runningthe whole gamut of air perils attendant upon signal service overcross-fire of big guns.
With the retirement of the cruisers came relief, and when Billy andHenri got the word to backtrack they sent the machines along like twostreaks of lightning.
"That ought to hold you a day or two," grimly observed Captain Johnson,stamping the kinks out of his legs on the landing place, and addressinghis young friends, who were also working off the strain by a vigorousarm-rubbing.
"Another job in the morning," stated Billy, "and in a house on wings.Come around and see us start, captain, you and Josh."
"Sure and we will," assured the captain, "for that Russian craft beatsall hollow, for size, any airship I ever saw."
A word that evening from Lieutenant Moppa cinched the belief that it wasa certain go, and Billy and Henri joined the other experts employed inpreparing for the flight of the mighty machine.
Lieutenant Atlass assumed the responsibility for the storage of theexplosives to be carried, and it can be stated that this officer had anassignment of the utmost importance. If anything went wrong in themagazines the travelers aboard the craft would never know what hurtthem.
Billy and Henri waved good-bye to Captain Johnson and Josh from the doorof the pilots' cabin on the "Sikorsky" and then set their grips on thesteering wheels as the starting signal was given. With the four enginesroaring, the great bird of passage soared over the sea.
By the compass, the course was set southwest, for the point at which theexpedition aimed is on that extreme quarter of the Turkish domain.
The first fighting viewed from the immense aeroplane was on and off theGallipoli peninsula, where warships of the allies were hot-shotting theTurkish land positions.
But just about this time the barometer in the air pilot's cabin was thecenter of attraction for the commanding officer and the wheelmen.
The indications were of decidedly ugly aspect, and storms in these partswere notable for their violence.
"Hadn't we better take to the floats, lieutenant?" inquired Billy,feeling new resistance in the wheel.
Moppa from the lookout seat noted the turbulence of the waves far below,and shook his head.
"Better go higher," he directed.
The pilots set the planes for the ordered ascent. So fierce now were thegusts against them that they were compelled to turn and ride with thegale, which had, with awful suddenness, expanded in shrieking force. Thebroadside for the few minutes presented, very near proved the drivers'complete undoing, for the immense fabric could not be shifted with thecelerity of the lesser craft heretofore handled by the boys, and itheeled over in a most alarming manner.
"Steady, lads," shouted the commanding officer, as Atlass and himselflent helping hands in holding the pounding wheels.
"Steady it is, sir," cried Billy, like an old salt, and "steady" it waswhen the craft beam-ended to the hurricane. But at what a speed! Two ofthe engines were cut off to slow the propellers, yet nothing short of 90miles to the hour was still maintained.
The sense of location was as speedily lost. So many deviations werethere in the cyclonic flight that the dancing compass needle lost itsvalue as a true guide.
It was a toss up whether the airship would bump into Athens or Smyrna,if it did not before hit the bottom of the sea.
The pilots ever endeavored to keep the nose of the craft on the upturn,in the hope of overriding the terror howling behind it. That theysucceeded to some extent had proof in a slight easing of the strain onthe steering gear.
"Still blowing like Sam Hill," exclaimed Henri, "but the wrench isn'tnear as strong as it was."
The four at the wheels were dripping with perspiration from theirmuscle-racking experience. The balance of the company of
nine men, withthe exception of the engineer, were huddled in a bunch in the"corridor."
About everything movable on the airship was scattered about the deck.Atlass had many a dark thought regarding the explosives, and, no doubt,as many times thanked his stars that he had done a thorough job ofpacking.
He had more than once exchanged glances with Moppa when a particularlyviolent vibration was felt in the vessel. They were both thinking alike,and of the magazines.
As the storm died away and the sea no longer leaped in wild waves, thepilots essayed a cautious descent, by slow degrees. The compass showedthe movement due south, but there was nothing to convince as to how farsouth.
No land was visible to the naked eye, but Lieutenant Moppa, havingresumed lookout duty, announced that with his binocle he perceived afaint blue line in direction directly ahead.
"Ease her off a point or two," he commanded, "and hold this coursewithout change." With a second thought, he further ordered: "Let Mowbrayand Gault take the wheels. You boys will be dead on your feet if you donot quit for a while."
Billy and Henri rather reluctantly relinquished their guiding posts,though, if the truth be known, both were rather shaky in the legs.
The new pilots, however, had plain sailing, and the boys felt that theyhad done their full duty, and more, when it had really counted forsomething.
Sailing lower and lower, the big airship, with driving force reduced toone engine, slowly approached a strip of land in the sea, now quiteplainly visible to the crew.
There were military forces assembled on this ground, and it was Henriwho first distinguished their nationality, when close enough todistinguish color. Blue tunics and red trousers--that was enough,without waiting to set eyes on the top display of red kepis, surmountedby the familiar tri-color cockade and ball.
"They're French!" he shouted. "The real thing. Vive, La France!"
The port was Mudros, on Lemnos island, in the Aegean sea, where 35,000French and British soldiers had just landed.
"Descend."
With the command the pilots lowered the "Sikorsky" to the water level.
"Vive, La France!"
Henri's exulting shout was heard again as a boat shot out from the shoreto meet the gigantic aeroplane drifting in on its polished floats.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Russia; or, Lost on the Frozen Steppes Page 23
