Fabulous Flight

by Robert Lawson

“Yes,” Peter agreed. “It’s a scale model of the old Resolute. My father made it.”

  “Good job,” the gull said approvingly. “My old man see the real one. Great old boat. Say,” he asked suddenly, “you like to travel?”

  “Well I don’t know,” Peter said, “I’d like to, but I’ve never traveled much. We usually go to Nantucket for a while in the summer, but that’s about all. You see, I’m pretty small.”

  “Sure are,” the gull chuckled, “but it’s a real handy size at that. Good things come in small packages, as they say. Nantucket’s a nice place, I’ve ben there. Ben most everywhere up and down the coast; Portland, Maine, Boston, Cape Cod, Gloucester (now there’s a place, if you like fish), Long Island, New York, Philadelphia. Ben south too; Charleston, Brunswick, Savannah. Even ben to Florida, but I don’t take much to that. Too hot, for one thing, and the sights you see on the beaches’re just plain disgustin’. Know what I done down there? Dove after what I thought was one of them tropical fish and what do you suppose it was? A brazzeer, that’s what. Pink too. Sick for a week. No sir, wouldn’t live there if they give me the place, as they say.”

  “Have you ever been abroad?” Peter asked. “I’d like to go abroad.”

  “Well now, you know it’s funny, your askin’ that,” the gull said, “because that’s ben the one thing I’ve always wanted to do and never have. That’s always ben my greatest ambition, as they say.”

  “Why don’t you?” asked Peter. “You could fly over easily, couldn’t you?”

  “Sure, nothing to it. Trouble is I just don’t care much about going alone. All right here along the coast where you know everybody pretty much. But them foreign parts, all them strange sights, and all them foreign gulls; there’d be nobody a fellow could talk to. Be lonesome, plain lonesome, that’s what it’d be. What a fellow’d want would be somebody to go along with him. Congenial companionship, as they say.

  “But these here birds around the docks down to Baltimore all’s they want to do is sit there the rest of their lives, gettin’ covered with soot and eating scraps off the ferry boats. No ambition, none of them. Ignorant too, ain’t one of ’em would know the Tower of London from the Loover.

  “Now me, I’m not much educated, but I do keep my eyes and ears open. All these here foreign ships comin’ in to Baltimore, I hang around and listen to the sailors talking and the rats and even the ships’ cats. I’ve picked up a lot, as they say. Do you know there’s one cat there on one of them Eyetalian ships – he’s seen the Spinks and the Pyramids! Yes sir! Seems he jumped ship at Alexandria and he hitchhiked his way out in the desert and he seen ’em – the Spinks and the Pyramids! Now ain’t that something!”

  “It certainly is,” Peter agreed, "I’d like to see them. I’d like to see London Bridge too, that’s always falling down, and Big Ben, and Blarney Castle and the Eiffel Tower and Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. There’s lots and lots of things I’d like to see.”

  At this moment the breeze suddenly came to life. The crew, their fear now gone, piled up from below, trimmed the sails and the Resolute got under way.

  “Well, take it easy,” the gull called, “I’ll be seeing you again.” His great wings flapped heavily a few times, he skittered through the water and then, with wings outstretched he caught the rising breeze and soared gracefully away.

  He came again the next day and for several days thereafter. It was hot June weather with few breezes, so each afternoon the gull would float bobbing beside the cockpit while he and Peter talked of strange seas and foreign places. Peter brought a lot of pictures from the National Geographic which the gull, whose name it now appeared was Gus, studied eagerly. “Well ain’t that something!” he would say admiringly after looking at each one. “Ain’t that something! I’m sure goin’ to see that one of these days.”

  The third afternoon that he came there was no vestige of a breeze. Peter had sent the crew home and was sitting idly on the end of the dock. They had talked languidly of this and that when Gus abruptly asked, “Say, Pete, ever done any flying?”

  “Why no,” Peter admitted, “I never have.”

  “Well, how’s about taking a ride? Perfectly safe. Lord, you don’t weigh nothing. I’ve lugged two-three pounds of fish for miles an’ miles and you don’t weigh much more’n a sardine. You tell how you ride all over the country top of a rabbit and anybody that can ride a rabbit can certainly ride a gull. Ain’t anything like as rough. Come ahead, step aboard.”

  Peter stepped carefully onto the solid gray back and settled himself just aft the wings. Gus’s back was much broader than Buck’s, but by working his legs well down into the feathers Peter was able to get a good knee grip.

  “Now listen,” Gus said, “takin’ off’s the only time is liable to be rough. You’ll likely get splashed a bit and I’ve got to flap some to get off the water. But once we’re off it and I can glide, it’ll be as smooth as silk, as they say. Get holt of a couple of handfuls of feathers now and hang on tight. Here we go!”

  Peter held on tightly, but the take-off was not nearly as rough as Buck’s fence jumping. There was a spatter of spray, a few moments of vigorous flapping and then suddenly a miraculous quiet. Gus’s great wings were spread wide, he soared and sailed in easy broad spirals, smoothly, quietly, ever upward.

  It was the most thrilling moment Peter had ever known. Far below now he could see the lake, with the Resolute lying at her moorings. As they circled and soared he could see the house and all the grounds, he even saw Barbara and Mrs. Pepperell walking in the garden.

  As they went higher and higher, mile after square mile spread out below them; brilliant checkerboard fields, dark patches of woodland, tiny houses, ribbon-like roads, the winding quicksilver of rivers. To the east they could see the white buildings of Washington, far to the west rose range after range of blue, shadow-spotted mountains.

  “How’re you doin’, Pete?” Gus called.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful!” Peter gasped. “The most wonderful thing in all the world. It’s so beautiful, and so still and smooth.”

  “Reckon it must be quite a kick if you’ve never ben up before,” Gus chuckled. “Of course for me it’s pretty old stuff, being practically raised on the wing, as they say. But I still like it. Where’d you care to go? Ever see the sights of Washington?”

  “Only from the ground,” Peter answered.

  Gus swung into a long slanting glide and in a matter of moments they were circling over the spoke-like avenues and greenery of Washington. “Got a real plan to it,” Gus said approvingly. “Only place I know of as has. New York now is just laid out like a griddle, sort of. Boston looks like something the cat got into, and the rest of them don’t look like anything much. But this here’s got a real plan to it, as they say.”

  They soared over the White House, around the beautiful Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials. They went up and down Pennsylvania Avenue. They skimmed over the Pentagon building and the new Art Gallery. As they approached the Washington Monument Gus suggested, “Let’s take a breather, Pete; set and look around a minute. Grab holt now, because I’ll have to stop sudden.”

  A few feet from the gleaming white pinnacle Gus’s wings shot up in a vertical braking motion, then he settled down gently on the exact tip of the monument. They had only enjoyed the view a few moments when a guard thrust his head from the topmost window and shouted, “Hey, get off there. G’wan now, SHOO!”

  Peter couldn’t see him because of Gus’s bulk, but he leaned out as far as he could and called indignantly, “We’ll do nothing of the sort. I am a United States citizen and my father is a voter and a taxpayer. We have as much right here as anyone.”

  The guard dazedly withdrew his head. “A talking sea gull,” he half whispered in a shaky voice. “Cassidy, tonight you go on the water wagon and there you stay.”

  Gus decided that they really should stop at the Capitol before returning home. He lighted high up on the dome, just under the statue and walked slowly around the dome so that Peter co
uld enjoy the whole panorama. Halfway around Peter suddenly gasped, “Gus, I feel awfully queer and dizzy. I think I’m going to faint.”

  “Groggy myself,” Gus gulped. “Holt tight.”

  He took off and executed a series of wabbly spirals before the fresher air revived them both. “Well, of all the dumb clucks, I’m the prize one,” Gus burst out. “Knew all about it and then go sit right amongst all them ventilators. Ought to have my head examined, as they say.”

  “But what about them?” Peter asked, still mystified.

  "About ’em!" Gus snorted. “Gas, that’s what. Hot air and gas. Why them ventilators come right out of the Senit Chamber.”

  They glided in to a gentle landing on the lake. Gus paddled past the moored Resolute and up to the dock. Peter stood a moment while they watched the lengthening shadows spread over the still water.

  “Oh Gus,” he burst out. “It was the most wonderful experience in my whole lifetime. I don’t know how to thank you enough. Can we do it again, soon?”

  “Soon as you want, is all right with me,” Gus answered. “You know, there ain’t nothing more lonesome than being way up there in the air all by yourself. It’s swell – but lonesome. A little congenial companionship, as they say, makes it a lot more fun.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Threat to Civilization

  That evening Peter was eager to tell the family of his first flight, but Mr. Pepperell did not seem in a receptive mood. For two or three evenings now he had not gone near the workshop, but had sat staring gloomily into the fireplace.

  “Peter,” Mrs. Pepperell finally said, “whatever’s wrong with you? You’ve sat around like a bear with a toothache for three evenings now.”

  “I am worried,” Mr. Pepperell said, “more worried than I’ve ever been in my life.” He got up and closed the hall door, then drew his chair close to his wife and Barbara.

  “I probably shouldn’t mention this,” he said in a low voice, “but I’ll go mad if I don’t talk to someone. Remember, this is all strictly hush-hush, State secret of the highest importance and all that. You must never breathe a word of it to anyone.” Peter climbed up in Barbara’s lap and all three listened attentively.

  “Our department,” Mr. Pepperell went on, “has recently learned, through channels which I cannot reveal, of the existence of a most frightful instrument of destruction.”

  “Atom bomb?” Barbara and Mrs. Pepperell both burst out.

  “Infinitely worse. Compared to this the atomic bomb is a mere firecracker. The facts of the case are unbelievably peculiar. Our secret sources reveal that a certain scientist, whose name I must not mention, in a foreign country, which must remain unidentified, has developed this terrible explosive entirely on his own. He is a most erratic genius, many people believe him quite mad. He works in solitude, has no assistants and makes no notes; so this whole diabolical secret is hidden in this one warped brain.

  “It has placed the government of his country in a strange quandary, for possession of this weapon would make them the most feared and powerful nation on earth. Yet they do not actually possess it. Moreover this scientist has threatened that, if interfered with in any way, he will merely drop the small capsule which contains his entire supply of this deadly substance. This would not only destroy him and his secret, but would wipe out his entire country, as well as most of Europe and a good part of Asia.”

  “Gee!” Peter murmured. Mrs. Pepperell and Barbara merely shuddered.

  “Should his government by any chance manage to gain possession of this secret they could, no doubt, subjugate the entire world. On the other hand they are in hourly danger of complete extinction. They are, as the common expression has it, in a tough spot.”

  “Couldn’t someone swipe it?” Peter asked, “while he was asleep or something?”

  Mr. Pepperell smiled wryly. “He is probably the most elaborately guarded individual in the history of mankind. We are informed that he lives and works in an ancient castle, attended only by a few trusted old retainers. This castle is on an island in the center of a large lake, which I am not free to name. His government has circled every inch of the lake shore with heavily manned trenches, with tanks, flame throwers and machine guns, with antiaircraft batteries and every known form of radar and detection device. An umbrella of fighter planes patrols the skies day and night. His government is determined, naturally, that if they cannot have this secret, certainly no other country is going to have a chance at it. And of course they are determined that this madman shall not be disturbed lest, in a fit of irritation, he blow half a continent to bits.”

  “How do they know it’s all that powerful?” Barbara asked. “Perhaps it’s just a great hoax.”

  “Do you remember the great earthquake which rocked Europe and Asia last autumn?” Mr. Pepperell asked. “Well, it was not an earthquake at all. It was two grains of this substance, exploded in the exact center of the Gobi Desert. It was quite a convincing demonstration. As I remember, it dislodged several statues from the Cathedral of Notre Dame, stopped Big Ben, caused landslides in Switzerland and demolished a few miles of the Great Wall of China. No, I’m afraid it is no hoax, I only wish it were.”

  They all sat in stunned silence trying to take in the magnitude of this terrible threat. Finally Mrs. Pepperell gathered up her knitting and announced her intention of going to bed. “I just hope that horrible creature doesn’t stub his toe or anything tonight,” she said, “I really need a good sleep after this.” Barbara also went up, leaving Peter and his father alone, both staring into the black fireplace.

  “Father,” Peter said thoughtfully. “Do you know, I think Gus and I could do something about this.”

  “About what – and who is Gus?” Mr. Pepperell asked absently.

  Peter explained about his friendship with Gus and described the afternoon’s flying experience. “I tried to tell you about it before,” he said, “but you didn’t pay much attention.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Pepperell agreed, “must have been lots of fun, very interesting I’m sure, quite a sensation. But what possible connection has all this with the subject we were discussing?”

  “Well, just this,” Peter said, “you say that scientist and his castle are so carefully guarded. But what are they guarded against? They’re just guarded against airplanes and men, soldiers and spies and that sort of thing; just the regular things they expect. They’re not guarded against an ordinary seagull or a little boy the size of me. Why look, if that island is in a big lake there must be lots of gulls there. No one would ever pay any attention to Gus and no one would ever notice me. All Gus would have to do would be to land me on a window sill or on the roof and I’ll bet I could go all over that old castle as much as I pleased. I’ll bet I could swipe that little old capsule of stuff and bring it right back here just as easy as not.”

  The reason that Mr. Pepperell was one of the highest figures in the State Department was that he had an imagination and an open mind. He almost never said “Tut, tut,” or “Nonsense, nonsense,” or “Quite impossible, quite impossible,” when a new or unusual idea was proposed. Now he sucked on his pipe for a long time before answering.

  “Son,” he finally said, “your plan seems so simple and practical that there must be something wrong with it. But think as I can, I see no reason why it might not work. The chief difficulty will be in persuading the Department to consider it seriously. It has three great disadvantages; first it is simple, second, it is practical, and third it won’t cost a cent. If it called for an appropriation of a few million or, better still, a billion or so, it would be easy. As it is, I shall have to work hard. However I will attack the Secretary himself tomorrow. He is a man of real vision, if I can convince him all may be well. It might work – yes by George – it might work.”

  “Gus has always wanted to go abroad,” Peter said, “this would be a great chance. I’m sure he would co-operate. May I tell him all about it?”

  “I think he can be trusted,” Mr. Pepperell smiled.
“Now let’s go to bed.” He left Peter in his room and as he went down the hall Peter could hear him still murmuring, "It might work, yes, it might just be the answer!”

  The next afternoon Peter could hardly wait for Gus’s arrival. When he did come Peter poured out the whole tale of the mad scientist and of his own plan for frustrating him. Gus listened attentively, occasionally exclaiming, “Well now, ain’t that something.”

  “Man, oh man,” he shouted as Peter finished, “looks like we’re goin’ to get that trip to Europe sooner’n we figured on. No reason why we can’t pull this off, none at all. First thing, though, we got to convince these here Washington bigwigs. Now who’s this here Secatary you spoke about?”

  “The Secretary of State,” Peter explained. “He’s head of the whole State Department.”

  “Your old man’s boss, hey? Know where his office is at?”

  “Yes,” Peter answered, “It’s a big one on the southeast corner of the State Department Building, fourth floor. Father’s is on the same floor, but on the southwest corner.”

  “Good,” Gus said. “Let’s us do some convincin’ right now. Come on, hop aboard.”

  As they soared rapidly toward Washington Gus revealed what he had in mind. “Now look,” he said, “here’s what I figgered we’d do. We just sail around quiet like and look things over. We find a office that’s sort of empty lookin’; it’s hot and all the windows will likely be open. I light on the window sill, you hop off and go in. Then it’s up to you. With your handy little size you’d ought to be able to sneak around most anywheres you please. You’ll swipe some little thing, maybe out of this Secatary’s office. Then you come out on the window sill, wave your handkerchief and I swoop down and pick you up. That ought to prove to ’em how easy it’d be for a couple of smart fellers like us to pull off this little capsull swiping job over there in Europe.”

  It seemed an excellent plan and it worked out even more perfectly than they had dared hope. Soaring slowly past his father’s window Peter saw the Secretary himself, standing in earnest conversation with Mr. Pepperell.