CHAPTER XI
OFF FOR PANAMA
That same afternoon Mr. Giddings called upon his business rival, Mr.Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, and presented to him the tentative program forthe great race around the world's girdle, as the _Daily Independent_had planned it. Mr. Wrenn declared that he was willing to stand by hisformer agreement to allow the _Independent_ to select the route, andsaid it was entirely satisfactory to him, and that he would at oncetake steps to have fuel supplies on hand at the various airports forhis crew when they should arrive. He made no comments as to his ownairplane, but agreed that the advertising plan his caller had workedout was a capital one, stating that he would co-operate heartily withhim in carrying it to a successful conclusion.
Mr. Giddings was considerably surprised that Mr. Wrenn made noobjection to the longest "hops" on the route, which were of greaterextent than the average airplane could make, and was ready to modifythe arrangement if there had been any objection. But even when heparticularly called this matter to the other publisher's attention, Mr.Wrenn only smiled serenely, saying, "Those hops are perfectlysatisfactory to us," leaving Mr. Giddings with a deep wonderment as towhat sort of aircraft the _Clarion_ proposed using.
"I am under the impression that our contemporary has something up hissleeve, but I cannot conceive what it can be," Mr. Giddings confided tohis son that evening upon reaching home; and when Bob repeated this tothe Ross boys and Tom Meeks next day, they too began to wonder morethan ever what type of an airplane the _Clarion_ proposed using againstthem, and who the crew might be.
"Did your father and Mr. Wrenn decide upon a date for the start?" askedPaul.
"Yes," replied Bob; "they made it the 20th of July, this summer,weather permitting. We start from Panama at one o'clock in theafternoon."
"Our curiosity as to the identity of our competitors will be satisfiedthen, at least," laughed John.
"And their curiosity, too!" put in Tom. "I'll stake my last centthey're just as much in the dark about us and the Sky-Bird II as we areabout their outfit."
"We'll hope so, anyhow," remarked Bob; "but ever since we had thoseblue-prints stolen, and found we had a stranger sneaking around thehangar, I've been uneasy."
At this reference, all the young men felt a strange oppression. Theyhad talked over it more than once, and each time it had left them witha sense of peril to their interests, why they could not tell. Asbefore, they now tried to laugh it off, and began to talk about othersubjects.
There was still considerable to do in the way of preparing the Sky-Birdand themselves for the long trip, and for weeks all four boys were kepthustling to make the final installations of accessories and equipment.Bob rigged up a wireless telegraph in connection with his telephoneset, and for protection, four good repeating rifles and an automaticshotgun were put in racks in the after-cabin, while each fellowprovided himself with an automatic revolver which he would carry in aholster attached to a belt. Medium-weight flying suits, with a heavy,wool-lined coat to slip on in case they flew very high, and trim flyingboots and soft gloves, made up the personal toggery.
Whenever the boys found a chance they went to the public library andabsorbed all the knowledge they could about the countries over whichthey would pass and the places at which they were destined to stop. Bywriting to the authorities in these localities, Mr. Giddings alsosecured much valuable information for them as to present weatherconditions and landing-fields--information which was furthersupplemented by numerous special airway maps supplied by the Aero Clubof America and similar aviation organizations in foreign countries.From these maps Paul worked out a very clear chart of their own coursefrom beginning to end. A copy was given to each of the newspaperpublishers concerned, to reproduce on their large electric streetboards, and another was framed and placed immediately in front of thepilot's seat in the cabin of the Sky-Bird II.
All this time the columns of the _Daily Independent_ and the _Clarion_contained frequent vivid references to features of the trip calculatedto awaken the interest of the public, and as the time slipped alonginto July, the attention of people all over the land was centered uponthe forthcoming contest, and it became the principal subject forcomment. The secrecy maintained by both principals as to the kind ofaircraft to be used, and the mystery as to identity of the members ofthe respective crews, only whetted curiosity and interest the more, asthe sharp newspaper men knew it would. Every man, woman, and child inthe wide world seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment to come whenhe or she would see the promised pictures of the bold aviators andtheir machines in the big newspapers, and hear that they had made theirfirst jump eastward from Panama.
All being in readiness, at daybreak on the morning of July 16th theRoss boys and Tom Meeks appeared at the Sky-Bird's hangar, and pushedthe airplane outside. As they were doing so, Mr. Giddings and Bobjoined them. The publisher had planned to accompany his crew to Panamain the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters madethe journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rivalpaper.
"We'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people aregenerally up," Mr. Giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the16th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shallhave about half a week to rest up and see the country down there beforeyou begin your strenuous journey. I need a little vacation anyway, soI will accompany you. We will stop off at Miami on the way, and enjoysome big-game fishing in the Florida waters with some of my friends."
So the young men were very much excited and eager to be off thismorning of the 16th, you may be sure. The Sky-Bird was tuned up alittle to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they allclimbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silkshot up into the air. It would probably be close to three weeks beforethey would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that timeif all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they andtheir fellow-men lived. It was truly a most inspiring thought--one tohave filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildestpulsations!
The weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloudthreatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise ofuncertain winds, if not rain; but John and Tom declared the conditionsall the better for giving the machine a good test-out.
They climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, theengine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could.To make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled forten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turnedthe Sky-Bird southward.
At two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt intobrilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened bya dense pall of mist. Accordingly, Tom Meeks, who was acting as pilot,set a compass course for Cape Hatteras, the first guide-post along theAtlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant. After an hour'ssteady running, John took the throttle, followed later by Bob, andfinally Paul. It was a new sensation to the last-named youths to bepiloting the airplane out of view of the earth's surface, relyingsolely for safety and position upon the compass and altimeter, andknowing that somewhere far below them swept the rolling billows of theocean; but they enjoyed it immensely.
Finally, just as John declared they ought to be close to theirobjective, the winds freshened and made a great rift in the fog belowthem, through which they could plainly see the grand old Carolinacoast-line a little way ahead and to their right. Between the mainshore and the long spine-like series of reefs constituting the capeitself, sparkled the waters of numerous sounds, while theweather-beaten lighthouse on the extreme elbow of Hatteras stood outlike a stick of white chalk against the rocky gray background of itssupport.
All were delighted with the accuracy with which they had made theirfirst guide-post, as John and Mr. Giddings checked their bearings onthe chart. The Sky-Bird had behaved splendidly so far, and if shecontinued in that way they ought to reach their destination well beforenightfall, even at the reduc
ed speed at which they had been flying,which had averaged not much more than a hundred miles an hour.
It now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along theinwardly curving coast-line, taking in Savannah, Charleston, andJacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flyingstraight across the waters to Miami. As they wished to test out eachmember's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it wasdecided to take the shorter route. So gradually they left the ruggedAmerican shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea.
The Sky-Bird II was flying as steady as a rock. All the bracing wireswere tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along thesmooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotonewhich arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated.The varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in thesunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gullsand ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only tobe outdistanced. The engine was running at less than half its possiblespeed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk.The clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a skyever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic, fleckedwith white-topped waves, spread on all sides. Two torpedo-boats,looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showedthat the Jacks aboard were waving a salute to them. Off seaward ablack trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseensteamship plowed her way between ports. Mr. Giddings and the boys werefilled with admiration.
A small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, orsight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic andstable about a big machine like the Sky-Bird II which a pilot soonbegins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane.An exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot;each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other. The levers andcontrols are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the willof the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely finedegree. Indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from andabove all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. It is the nearestthing to animate life which man has created. In the air an airplaneceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb withfeeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, butactually of expressing a pilot's temperament.
The lungs of the machine--its engines--are the crux of man's mechanicalwisdom and skill. Their marvelous reliability and intricacy are almostas awesome as the human anatomy. When both engines are going well, andsynchronized to the same speed, the roar of the exhausts develops intoone long-sustained and not inharmonious _boom-m-m-m-m!_ It is a songof pleasant melody to the pilot, whose ear is ever pricked to catch thefirst semblance of a "sharp" or "flat" note telling him that one ormore of the twelve cylinders of each busy engine is missing fire andneeds a little doctoring.
It was about four o'clock that afternoon when our party first sightedthe low, out-jutting sea-coast of Florida. As they came slowly towardit, by reason of their angular course of approach, they could graduallymake out a group of green palms here and there along the whitestretches of sand, and see clusters of light-colored buildings, piers,shipping, and people moving about. Thus they passed Juno and PalmBeach, and then saw the thicker cluster of fine dwellings of Miamiitself, the most southerly city on the Florida mainland.
Paul was guiding the Sky-Bird at this time, and turned her across thelimpid waters of Biscayne Bay, cutting a huge circle above the town andslowly swooping downward toward the broad white beach, as he picked outa level stretch for landing. Townspeople who had been watching thestrange airplane, so much like a great bird, now ran forward to see itland.
A moment later, with a graceful drop and upward curve, it struck thesandy beach and ran forward lightly until the brakes were applied andit was brought to a standstill.