CHAPTER IV.
THE AERO SQUAD.
One by one the other contests were decided. The hammer throw was won byMelvin, of the _Idaho_, a giant of a man. Smithers, of the _Manhattan_,was second in this event. So the Dreadnought's crew continued to keepup their spirits. The half-mile was captured by Remington, of the_Louisiana_, while the mile went to Hickey, of the _Manhattan_, a manwith hair of right good fighting red, and a great chest development.
Then came the pole jump. As usual, this picturesque event excited greatinterest.
Chance came first, and set a mark that made the other contestants gasp.
"You'll have to be a grasshopper to beat that, Herc," whispered Ned.
Herc nodded. "I'll do my best," he said simply.
"That's the stuff, shipmate," said "Ben Franklin," who happened to beclose at hand, "as poor Richard said:
"'You'll beat the rest; If you do your best.'"
"I never saw that in 'Poor Richard' that I can recollect," said Ned,with a laugh.
Steve Wynn looked pained, as he usually did when any of his quotationswas questioned as to its accuracy.
"It's in the book some place," he said confidently.
"Well, maybe it is," agreed Ned. "It's good advice, anyhow."
At last came Herc's turn.
Merritt had now been joined by Chance. With set teeth, they stoodwatching the agile lad from the farm prepare for his preliminary run.
"You want to watch closely now," said Chance, with an unholy grin,"you're going to see something."
"What? You've----"
But a horrified cry from the spectators interrupted the words. Herchad risen gracefully at the bar, and had seemed about to sail over it.Instantly bedlam had seethed about the field.
"Taylor, of the _Manhattan_, wins!"
"Good boy, red-top!"
"Go to it, freckles!"
But in a flash the cries of enthusiasm had been changed to thatpeculiar sighing gasp that runs through a crowd at a sudden turn to thetragic in their emotions.
As Herc had lifted his body outward to sail over the bar, the pole hadsuddenly snapped beneath him.
The horrified spectators saw the lad's body hurtled downward. Herc, ashe fell, narrowly missed impalement on the jagged, broken end of thepole. But the lad's muscles were under prime control. Even as he fell,he seemed to make a marvelous twist.
The cheers broke forth anew as Herc, instead of landing in a heap,came to earth gracefully on his feet. He had not sustained the leastinjury, a fact which he soon demonstrated to the judges and otherofficials of the track who crowded about him.
"I tell you, it's that blamed secret of theirs," growled Chance,turning pale.
"We'd better get out of here," warned Merritt hastily. "Look, they areexamining the pole. I imagine that they'll find it was cut."
"I imagine so, too," said Chance, in a low, rather frightened tone, asthe unworthy two hastened off. "But they can't prove anything on me,"he added defiantly.
In the meantime Herc had selected another pole. He examined itcarefully and found it perfect. Bracing himself for the effort of hislife, he essayed the jump once more.
He sailed over the bar as gracefully as a soaring sea gull.
"Chance is tied! Taylor's tied him!" yelled the crowd.
"Good boy, Herc," whispered Ned, as Herc prepared for a fresh effort."Now this time beat him, and beat him good."
Herc set his teeth grimly. His usually good-natured face held anexpression very foreign to it.
"I'll do it," he said. "And then," he added significantly, "I've gotanother job to attend to."
Flexing his muscles, Herc crouched for an instant. Then he hurledhimself at the bar. He cleared it with almost six inches to spare aboveChance's hitherto unapproached record.
If the field had known enthusiasm before, it was pandemonium that brokeloose now. Like wild-fire, the word had gone about that Herc's pole hadbeen tampered with. The spirit of the Yankee blue-jacket is keen forfair play. A foul trick stirs his blood as nothing else will. If Nedor Herc had breathed their suspicions at that instant, it is likelythat, in spite of discipline, it would have gone hard with Merritt andChance. But Herc sought another way.
That night word ran through the fleet that Hercules Taylor, of the_Manhattan_, had challenged Chance, of the same ship, to a boxingmatch, and that Chance had refused. Possibly he anticipated that Hercmight lose control of himself and strike out a little harder than isconsistent with "sparring." At any rate, from that time on, Chancewas rated as "a flunker," which, in the navy, is a very undesirableappellation.
Herc, however, was the idol of the _Manhattan_. His winning of the polejump had captured the athletic supremacy pennant for the _Manhattan_.It had been the climax of a day of triumphs for the lads of theDreadnought. From thenceforth the big fighting craft was entitledto float both the athletic pennant and the coveted "Meat Ball," thelatter the red flag for the best gunnery. How the meat ball was won atGuantanamo, readers of "_The Dreadnought Boys on Battle Practice_" areaware.
It was on a Monday, a week after the sports, that a line of trim,athletic looking, young blue-jackets were lined up in a field, someten miles out of Hampton, and in the heart of a rural community. Off,at one side of the meadow, was a row of barn-like structures, painted adull gray color and numbered. There were six of them.
These sheds housed the aeroplanes with which the experiments for thepurpose of selecting a naval "aerial-scout class" were to be conducted.The eyes of the row of aspirants, who had been winnowed from a perfectcrop of such applicants, were fixed longingly on the gray barns. Theyhoused, not only the aeroplanes, but the ambitions and hopes of thatrow of young men--the pick of the squadron.
But there were more than twenty candidates for the scout corps linedup, and only nine would be selected. No wonder that there was anxietyreflected in their eyes, as Lieutenant De Frees and his assistants,Ensigns Walters and Jackson, paced down the row of blue-jackets,putting questions here and there, and weeding out those who were eithertoo heavy or cumbersome for aero work, or else did not give evidenceof the keen, hawk-like intellectual faculties that an airman must have.These include the power of instant decision in an emergency, courage ofa high order, but not recklessness, and a mind capable of grasping themechanical qualities of the craft with which they have to deal. As maybe imagined, then, the task of the officers was not a simple one.
One by one, the eager applicants were sorted and sifted, till finally,the chosen nine stood shoulder to shoulder. Ned and Herc had bothpassed, although, for a time, the fate of the latter had hung in thebalance. His heavy frame was against him. But the naval officers haddecided that the lad's quick intelligence and bulldog tenacity madehim desirable in other ways. For the present Herc Taylor would be heldin reserve. There was a certain grim suggestiveness in this--a hint ofthe dangers of aerial navigation which might result in the ranks beingthinned before long.
Ned had had no trouble in getting by. Lieutenant De Frees had said witha pleasant nod:
"I've heard of you, Strong. We want you. You are, of course, willingto sign a paper absolving the navy from responsibility in case of yourdeath or serious injury?"
This question had been put to all the applicants in turn. They had allsignified their willingness to do this. It was understood, of course,that the contract, or pledge, did not in any way affect their pensionsor "disability" money.
When Ned's turn came, he thought a moment. Such was his habit. Then hespoke.
"If I'd thought only of the risks, sir, I wouldn't be here," he said,in a respectful but decisive manner.
Among the others who passed the ordeal were Merritt and Chance; aslender, greyhound-like chap from the _Kansas_, named Terry Mulligan;a bos'un's mate from the _Louisiana_, called Sim Yeemans, a typicalYankee from Vermont, or "Vairmont," as he called it; a comical Germanblue-jacket from the _Idaho_, Hans Dunderblitz, and some others whom weshall probably become acquainted with as our narrative progresses.
The disapp
ointed ones were spun back to the ships in a big autochartered for the purpose. The successful candidates and the defeatedones parted without animosity.
"Better luck next time," hailed the chosen nine, as their shipmatesdrove off.
"Oh, your ranks will thin out quick enough," cried one of the departingones, with sinister humor.
The men selected for the aviation "classes," as they may be called,were, they soon found out, to board at a big stone farmhouse not farfrom the aviation field. Little more was done that day than to pay aseries of visits to the different sheds--or "hangars," in airmen'sparlance. In each of these the embryo airmen listened to a short talkon the type of machine they were viewing and heard its qualitiesdiscussed. In addition, that night, each of the ambitious ones receiveda set of books on the science of mastering the air, with instructionsto study them carefully. It was implied that those who failed to passcertain examinations at a future date would not be allowed to partakefurther in the experiments.
"Well, talk about your ease and luxury," said Herc that night when theDreadnought Boys were in the room assigned to them at the farmhouse,"we're as well off here as middies at Annapolis. What a contrast to theforecastle! I feel like a millionaire already."
"Umph!" grunted Ned, who was already deep in his books. "You'd betterget to work and study. We've lots of hard work ahead of us."
"And excitement too, I guess," said Herc, dragging a bulky volumetoward him.
Neither of the two lads at the time fully appreciated how much of bothwas shortly to be crowded into their lives.
The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service Page 4
