Boy Aviators with the Air Raiders: A Story of the Great World War

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXII.

  THE NARROW ESCAPE.

  "It has been a leak, for even now it is dripping down!" exclaimed theFrench aviator, pointing his finger at the bottom of the petrol tank.

  Pudge and Billy held their breath. Everything would depend on Frank, whomust know what was best to do. They might plane downward, and manage tomake some sort of a landing, but that would mean capture by the enemy.The presence of the French aviator would bring the wrath of the Germansdown on the heads of the boys, and as a result they would be madeprisoners of war.

  Not only that must follow, but the precious seaplane would fall into thehands of the Kaiser's men. Such a possibility could never be endured. M.Le Grande would be ready to try something desperate before such acatastrophe could be countenanced.

  Frank had to do some pretty swift thinking. Fortunately he was not theone to lose his head in the presence of unexpected danger.

  "We must make a furious attempt to get across the fighting line, whichis some miles away from here at La Basse!" he exclaimed. "When wedescend, it will be in the rear of the British forces, where we can besafe!"

  "Let her go, Frank!" said Billy excitedly.

  "Yes, for all she's worth!" added poor Pudge, as well as he could, forhis trembling lips made any sort of utterance difficult.

  Frank had not waited for this to turn on all power. At the time of thediscovery, with regard to the loss of their precious liquid fuel, theseaplane had been headed just right, so all that appeared necessary wasincreased motion.

  The motors responded to the call upon their reserve powers. Again, withmuffler cut-out wide open, and the green fire issuing from the exhaustsamidst a roaring sound, they rushed through space.

  What speed they were making none of them thought to notice by glancingat the aerial speed meter, but it must have been something like ninetymiles an hour at the very least, possibly much more.

  Here was another supreme test which the French aviator must be sure andtake note of. He did not show any particular signs of alarm, though hewas plainly excited.

  Everyone was gazing ahead, their only aim being that they speedilyarrive at the line where the gray-clad Germans were standing off thekhaki-clothed soldiers of King George.

  Such was the state of their nerves, that seconds seemed to drag likeminutes. Billy was trying the best he could to focus his glasses so asto announce the glad tidings that they were rapidly nearing their goal;but he found it hard work because of the shaking of the seaplane underthe forced pressure.

  "It's there just ahead of us, Frank!" he finally shouted. "Keep hergoing only a little while longer, and we'll be all right!"

  "Hurrah!" cried Pudge, rather feebly it must be confessed, for the windfairly took his breath away.

  Frank had not only kept straight on but at the same time he wascommencing to head downward. There was a strong possibility that at anysecond the motors might refuse to work, being deprived of their feed,and in consequence the big seaplane would have to start earthward by themethod popularly known as volplaning.

  When reduced to that method of landing, Frank wanted to be as well downas he could with safety allow the seaplane to drop. What little dangerthey risked of being struck by some shot sent by the astonished Germanswas not worth while considering. The great speed they were making wouldin itself serve to protect them from this threatening evil.

  It was a critical moment for the aeroplane boys, and one that none ofthem would be likely to forget soon. They could notice that the rattleof the exhaust was growing more and more deadened. That told them theend was very near and then the last feeble effort of the motors wouldend in a total collapse.

  "A pint of gasoline would see us through with flying colors!" exclaimedBilly.

  "Just to think of it," cried Pudge dismally, as though the thought offalling into the hands of the Germans and being treated as a prisoner ofwar filled his heart with dismay.

  "On! on! keep her going, young m'sieu!" almost shrieked the Frenchman,as he half stood up in his great excitement, and turned his gaze fromFrank to the prospect before them.

  Frank had changed his plan of action. He no longer pushed the motors totheir utmost. The muffler, too, now shut off those spiteful lookinggreenish flames, and the rattle was silenced.

  In truth, Frank, in the belief that if they could only keep afloat,their momentum would be sufficient to carry the seaplane across the lineof trenches, was trying to conserve every atom of power. He askednothing more than this, and would be willing to take his chances ofmaking a fairly successful landing, though a craft of that descriptionwas never intended to start or finish a voyage save on the water.

  Pudge became more alarmed, now that the shrill clatter of the exhausthad been silenced, for unlike Billy he had not grasped just why this hadcome about.

  "Oh! will we make it, Frank?" he cried in an agony of fear.

  "I think so," the pilot told him steadily.

  "But she's swaying right now as if ready to give up the ghost and drop!"Pudge complained in a strained voice. "That rattle has stopped. Why isthat, Frank?"

  "I did it so as to keep what energy we've got as long as we can," he wastold.

  "We're doing nobly, young m'sieu!" called out M. Le Grande.

  "Yes, there are the trenches just ahead of us!" added Billy. "Listen tothe rattle of rifles, will you? And I can hear cheers too, heartyEnglish cheers. See them jumping up in plain sight and waving to us,boys! A little further, Frank, and you can volplane if it's necessary,because we'll have crossed the line and be in safety."

  But the puttering of the motors told that they had arrived at the laststage of labor. A gas engine cannot run without fuel of some sort, andthe vapor now being fed was of an inferior quality, so that the energybecame less and less.

  They were at this critical time almost directly over the Germantrenches, and so close that they could see the soldiers pointing up atthem, even without the use of field glasses or binoculars.

  "Oh! did you hear that bullet hum past then?" ejaculated Pudge, who hadducked his head in an involuntary way as though he would avoid contactwith the random lead, just as some nervous people start with each flashof lightning.

  Other missiles were also winging along through space, showing that theseaplane, in its mad race for a safe landing, must have alreadydescended a considerable distance under Frank's manipulation.

  Strange what queer thoughts will flash into the mind when under such astress as this. Frank afterward laughed to remember how he wasdetermining then and there, that if ever he had occasion to make anotheraerial voyage above hostile armies, where he might be subject to abombardment, one of the things he meant to see about before starting wasthat he carried a bullet-proof petrol reservoir along with him.

  Suddenly the motors ceased working, as the supply of gas came to anabrupt end. They were by now over the British trenches, where the menwere shouting all kinds of hoarse salutes, though compelled to againhastily seek shelter in their pits, as the Germans had opened fire onthem.

  Frank had but one way open to him in order to reach the ground. This wasto volplane swiftly, as he had many a time done after shutting off allpower, and when a certain distance from the earth, by suddenly workinghis planes, cause the aircraft to assume a horizontal position insteadof a vertical one, after which would come the straight drop.

  Just what sort of a jar must accompany the landing would depend, in agreat measure, on the distance they were up at the time, and the skillshown by the pilot in managing these things.

  It is always deemed a spectacular method of descending from an upperlevel, and not as dangerous as it may appear to those who are unfamiliarwith the working of aircraft. Frank had practiced it many a time, and inan ordinary aeroplane, with its rubber-tired wheels to run along theground, would have thought nothing of it. When he had to land with aseaplane, never meant for such a purpose, it was a "horse of anothercolor," and might be considered a very ticklish job.

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bsp; The ground seemed to be rushing up to meet them as they fell. Pudgeshrank back as though he could already feel the terrible shock of thecontact, should they continue to make that swift downward progress.

  But Frank was ready to change the planes, and in this manner alter theconditions. They would act as a stay, and bring their headlong rushearthward to an end. After that it would simply be a dead weight drop,and perhaps not so hard as to smash anything about the seaplane beyondrepairing.

  Before Pudge had time to take another full breath it was all over. Theyhad swept down beyond a low hill, on top of which stood one of thewindmills so often seen in Holland, Belgium and Northern France, withits broad arms standing motionless, and the tower showing signs ofhaving been struck by more than one solid shot during some tempestuousbattle for the rise.

  With slackening speed, the seaplane followed the descent, and then cameto almost a full stop at its base. After that it dropped straight to theground.

  The shock proved to be rather severe, and Pudge was even jolted from hisseat, falling in a heap close by. Frank jumped out and was immediatelyfollowed by Billy and the French air pilot, all of them perhapsconsiderably shaken, but apparently none the worse for the roughexperience.

  Frank first of all sprang over to where Pudge was wallowing. The fat boysat up just as Frank reached his side.

  "I hope you're not hurt much, Pudge?" cried the pilot of the _SeaEagle_, as he hurriedly bent over to assist his chum to gain his feet.

  Pudge started to feel himself all over. He ran his hands along his fatsides, and then down each leg; after which he proceeded to announce theresult.

  "Nope, don't seem to have any serious contusions or broken bones thatI've been able to find. Guess I'm all whole, Frank, as I hope the restof you are. But how about the poor old _Sea Eagle_; is she smashedbeyond repair, do you think, Frank?"

  "I haven't taken a look at her so far," the other told him. "What littledamage may have been done can be easily repaired, once we get her takenby wagon to our hangar at Dunkirk."

  "We're being fired on.... Try and find shelter if youcan, Billy!"--Page 251.]

  "Good enough!" cried Pudge. "I was worrying more over the seaplane thanabout myself, I do declare. When we can get in touch with the commanderat this section of the British forces, we might be able to commandeersome sort of wagon on which the machine can be packed, after we've takenit to pieces, and transported it to town. Our good friend, M'sieu LeGrande can tell them the plane now belongs to the French Government, andthat a heap depends on its being taken to Dunkirk."

  As they reached the spot where the big seaplane lay like a wounded bird,it was to see the Frenchman and Billy come crawling out from under thewings.

  "What's the extent of the damage?" asked Frank immediately.

  Before Billy could start explaining, there was a sharp sound heard, andFrank actually felt the wind of a bullet whizzing past his cheek.

  "Duck down everybody!" he exclaimed, suiting his actions to the words,and pulling Pudge after him. "We're being fired on by somebody concealedin that old windmill base over there. Try and find shelter if you can,Billy!"