by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER XIII
OFF FOR THE CHANNEL
"Tom, do you think that spy left behind by my cousin could have learnedin any way about our plan?"
They were passing over a section of Northern France, keeping a mile andmore above the surface of the earth, when Jack called out in thisfashion. Talking is never easy aboard a working plane. The splutter ofthe motor, added to the noise caused by the spinning propellers, as wellas the fact that as a rule pilot and observer keep well muffled upbecause of the chill in the rarified air, all combine to make itdifficult.
But Jack was hard to repress. Especially just then did he feel as ifhe must find some answer to certain doubts which were beginning tooppress him.
"There's no way of telling," Tom answered promptly. "We've already seenthat the fellow is a clever, as well as desperate, rascal. He may be anAmerican, though I'm rather inclined to believe your cousin has found anative better suited to his needs. And such a treacherous Frenchman wouldprove a tricky and slippery sort. Yes, he may have overheard us saysomething that would put him wise to our big game."
"I hope not, I surely do," Jack continued, looking serious again. "Factis, Tom, I'll never feel easy until we see the ocean under us."
At that Tom laughed heartily. He even put a little extra vim into hismerriment in the hope of raising his chum's drooping spirits.
"That sounds mighty close to a joke, Jack, for a fact," he said.
"I'd like to know how you make that out?" demanded the other.
"Why, most people would be apt to say our troubles were likely to beginwhen we have cut loose from the land and see nothing below us as far asthe eye can reach but the blue water of the Atlantic."
"All right," cried Jack, showing no sign of changing his mind. "I'llwillingly take chances with nature rather than the perfidy andtreachery of mankind. Somehow, I can't believe that we're reallylaunched on the journey."
"Wake up then, old fellow, and shake yourself. You'll find we've made apretty fair start. Already we've put thirty miles behind us. Unless werun up against some snag, and have engine trouble, we ought to get tothe Channel long before dark sets in."
So Jack relapsed into silence for a time. As he was not needed in orderto run the motor or guide the plane in its progress westward, Jack couldamuse himself in using the powerful binoculars.
They were at the time far removed from the earth, but through thewonderful lenses of the glasses objects became fairly distinct. So Jackcould see much to interest him as they sped onward. Finally he againbroke out with an exclamation.
"Nothing but the ruins of towns and villages down below, Tom," he called."The fighting has been fierce along this sector, I should say. Why, eventhe woods have been smashed, and it looks like a regular desert. PoorFrance, what you must have suffered at the hands of those savage Huns."
"Yes," replied the pilot, over his shoulder, "here is where much of themost desperate fighting of the British took place. Some of those ruinedplaces were beautiful French towns only a few years ago, where laces andsuch things were made for most of the fashionable world. Now they lookabout like the ruins of Ninevah or Babylon."
Fortune favored them during the next hour, and even Jack's spiritshad begun to improve. Then came a check to the sanguine nature ofthe outlook.
"Sorry to tell you, Jack," reported Tom, after some uneasy movements,which the other had noticed with growing alarm, "that we'll have to makea landing. After all, it's not going to be a non-stop flight to thecoast. Only a little matter, but it should be looked after before itdevelops into serious trouble. I'm going to drop down to a lower level,where we can keep an eye out for a proper landing place."
"But that means time lost!"
"We can spare an hour if necessary, and still get to Dunkirk by evening,"Tom replied cheerfully. "I was a bit suspicious of that very thing, andonly for our desperate need of haste would have waited to start until ithad been gone over again. But then I took chances, knowing it would, atthe worst, mean only a stop for repairs. Sorry, but it can't be helped."
When the plane had reached a distance of a thousand feet above the earth,with Jack eagerly looking for a favorable landing place, the latter hadmanaged to recover from his depression.
"I see what looks like a fine stretch, Tom," he now announced. "Noticethat road looking as if it might be pitted with shell-holes? Just on itsright, where that single tree trunk stands, there's a field as level asa barn floor. Circle around, and let's get closer to it."
Further examination convinced them that they had really run upon asuitable landing place. What pleased Tom still more was the fact that sofar there had been no evidence of human presence near by.
This meant that they would not be bothered during the time required foroverhauling the engine by curious spectators, who might even questiontheir right to be flying away from the front.
The landing was made in good style, and with only a few bumps, thanks tothe smooth character of the field's surface. Even Jack was compelled toadmit that though they had met with trouble, matters might be much worse.
"We'll get busy now, and soon have things as fit as a fiddle," said Tom,throwing off some of his superfluous garments so as to be free to work.
By this time both boys had grown to be real experts in all sorts ofmechanical repairing, as every airman must of necessity become before hecan pass the acid test. Unlike the driver of a car on country roads, whena break-down occurs he cannot step to a neighboring house, use the longdistance or local telephone, and summon help. The airman is usuallycompelled to depend exclusively on his own ability to overcome thedifficulty.
To get at the seat of trouble necessitated considerable disarrangementof the motor's parts. This consumed more or less time, and the minutespassing were jealously given up by the impatient Jack.
But the boys worked fast, and finally all had been accomplished. Tomtested the engine, and pronounced himself satisfied, while Jack lookedover the field ahead of them.
"It's going to take us to Dunkirk without any further trouble, I give youmy word for it, Jack," he said. "How long have we been here?"
"Just one hour, lacking three minutes," came the prompt reply.
"Then I'm safe," laughed Tom; "for I said within the hour. Come, pileaboard and we'll be off. Sure you examined the ground ahead, and saw toit we'd hit no bumps that might give us trouble?"
"It's all right there, Tom; could hardly be better. But be sure you don'tchange from a straight course, because there's a nasty shell-hole, aboutten feet deep, to the left. If we struck that--good-night!"
"I notice you marked it with that pole, Jack, and I'll swing clear, youcan depend on that."
They had no difficulty in making a successful ascent. Once free from theground, the plane's nose was again turned toward the southwest. Tom hadlong before marked out his course, and kept an eye on the compass aswell as on his little chart.
He knew they were heading for the Channel port as straight as the crowflies. The sun was getting far down in the western sky, and it was nownecessary to shield their eyes when looking ahead, on account of thedazzling glare that at times threatened to blind them.
The character of the country below had changed materially, Jack told thepilot, who seldom had a chance to look through the glasses, since hisentire attention was taken up with manipulating the engine, watching itsrhythmical working, and keeping the plane pushing directly on its course.
"Heine didn't get a chance to ruin things here when he passed through,going to Paris and to his smash on the Marne," Jack explained. "Towns andvillages look natural, as I see them, and they must have harvested cropsin those brown fields. This is a bit of the real France, and entirelydifferent from the horrible desert we've been at work in so long."
The afternoon was wearing away. Jack frequently stared eagerly off to thewest, when the sun's glowing face was veiled for a brief time by somefriendly cloud. Several times he believed he could see something thatlooked like a stretch of water, but dared not voice his hopes.
> Then came a time when a heavier cloud than usual masked the brightnessof the declining sun. Another long earnest look and Jack burst out with atriumphant shout.
"Tom, I can see the Channel, as sure as you're born!" was the burden ofhis announcement; and of course this caused the pilot to demand that hetoo be given a chance to glimpse the doubly welcome sight.
There could not be any mistake about it. Tom corroborated what Jack haddeclared. It was undoubtedly the English Channel they saw, showing thattheir journey from the American front had been successfully accomplished.
"Now for Dunkirk!" jubilantly cried Jack, looking as though he had thrownoff the weight of dull care, and was once more light-hearted. "And by thesame token, Tom, unless I miss my guess, that may be the city we'reheading for over yonder a little further to the south."
"Then I kept my course fairly well, you'll admit," the pilot shouted athim, naturally feeling conscious of a little pride over his achievement.
Rapidly they pushed on with a slight change of course. Jack kept usingthe glasses and reported his observations to the busily engaged pilot.
"It'll be dusk, likely, when we land," he observed at one time. "But thatdoesn't cut much figure, for we can easily find our way down to Beverly'shangar on the coast. He said it was only a few miles from town, andthey'll know at the aviation field, of course."
"He gave us the name of a British officer who would post us," added Tom.
After a bit they were passing over the outskirts of Dunkirk, and makingfor what appeared to be an aviation field, since they could see varioushangars, and another plane was just settling ahead of them.
Ten minutes passed, and Jack was delighted to find that they had made asuccessful landing. A number of French and British aviation men hastenedto surround them, more than curious to know what strange chance hadbrought two Yankee fliers to Dunkirk.
Of course neither Tom nor Jack meant to afford them the leastsatisfaction. They had certain business to transact, and after that wasoff their hands the great adventure loomed beyond.
Accordingly, their first act was to find the man to whom they had beenreferred by Lieutenant Beverly.
"We want to see Major Denning; can anybody direct us to him?" Tom asked.
"That happens to be my name," remarked a red-faced officer on theoutskirts of the crowd and who had just arrived. "What can I do for you?"
"Lieutenant Colin Beverly of the American aviation corps referred us toyou, Major," said Tom. "We have a message for you, after which we mustdeliver an official packet sent by our general to the command here andmake arrangements to have our plane sent back to where we started fromsome hours ago, on the American fighting front."
"I shall be pleased to give you any assistance in my power, gentlemen,"said the British major, being apparently a very agreeable andaccommodating man indeed, as Beverly had informed them they would findhim.
Stepping away from the crowd the Air Service Boys delivered theirmessage, which was really a sort of prearranged password.
"Lieutenant Beverly is a cousin of mine, you know; which makes me morethan anxious concerning him just now," went on Major Denning, after theseformalities had been gone through with.
"Why so, Major?" demanded Tom, while Jack looked worried.
Whereupon the red-faced major drew them still further to one side,and, lowering his heavy voice so as not to be overheard by others,went on to say:
"I, as you know, know something about that wonderful big bomber he'shad sent over, and how he means to give Berlin a scare shortly. I'veeven had the privilege of looking the monster over, and feeling athrill at picturing how it would give the Huns a fright when itappeared over Berlin. But you see its presence here is a secret, andknown to but few of us."
"Glad to hear it, Major," Tom remarked. "But please explain why you areworried about Beverly."
"That is," continued the officer, "because an explosion was heard,coming from the south, just a short time ago. Everybody believes itmust be the airdrome sheltering the dirigible Britain sent over herefor use, and which lies further down the coast. But, much as I hate tosay it, I fear something serious has happened to Beverly's hangar; infact that a bomb has destroyed it, or else some rank Hun treachery hasbeen at work there!"
