CHAPTER XXX
AN ALARMING DISCOVERY
One of the first questions our flyers asked of Oliver Torrey, afterthey had helped him remove his wet clothing, was:
"Where are your friends?"
The _Clarion_ flyer shook his head sadly. "They're done for--drowned.I'm the only one left of our crew. That was an awful storm, boys! Idon't see how you ever survived it."
"We did it by flying over the greater part of it," said Tom. "How didit happen to get you fellows?"
"Pete and Chuck were operating," explained Oliver Torrey. "Sam and Iboth wanted to get above the tornado, but they said they thought itwouldn't amount to much. When they saw how bad it really was, it wastoo late. A whirlpool of wind struck us at three thousand feet, Petelost control, and we went into a nose-dive from which we neverrecovered. When we struck the sea the force crushed in the front ofthe cabin, stunning Pete, and before any of us could grab him the waveshad washed him out of our sight. Chuck, Sam, and I managed to get outand climb up on the fuselage; but the seas were running so high thathalf of the time we were buried in water. Coming out of one of thesedeluges, I looked around and saw that I was alone. Then the stormpassed, and things looked better for me. But I was just about ready togive up when I saw the Sky-Bird coming."
Oliver Torrey paused a moment, wiped his haggard face, and thencontinued, as he looked earnestly at his rescuers:
"Boys, I never can thank you enough for saving my worthless life. It'sawful to think that we guys let Pete Deveaux coax us into doing allthose dirty things to hold you back. I guess we deserved thispunishment. If I ever get back to Panama I'll certainly make whatamends I can by telling the whole disgraceful story to the world."
Tom stepped in front of the _Clarion_ flyer, and shook his finger inhis face. "Torrey," said Tom, "I think at heart you are all right; butlisten! Mr. Wrenn, who hired you fellows, is a straight man throughand through. If this story gets out it will be published broadcast,and people will think he abetted your crimes against us. So, for hissake----"
"I see; I hadn't thought of that," ejaculated Torrey. "I will keepstill; as far as the public'll ever know, they'll think this was a fairand square contest--and so it was on your part."
It must be remembered that John and Tom had had no sleep since the dayprevious. They were so tired by now, especially John, that they werevery glad to retire to the hammocks, leaving Paul and Bob to take careof the Sky-Bird. Oliver Torrey was also exhausted, and accepted withalacrity Paul's invitation to him to jump into the spare hammock.Within five minutes the two youths were the only ones awake.
It seemed good to the boys to feel that soon they would be at SanCristobal, their last stop before the final hop. They flew along withthe throttle wide open for the next hour, eager to make up for thedelay caused by the storm and the rescue of Torrey. Then they reducedthe speed a little, to make sure they would not overheat the engine,but still they made good time.
Shortly before six o'clock that afternoon they sighted a blue hazewhich a little later developed into a group of several islands. Thesethey knew, by consulting their chart, were the Gallapagos, the home ofthe largest land-turtles ever known, monsters so enormous that one ofthem could walk off with two half-grown boys on his broad back.
There are over two thousand volcano cones in these islands, and soonour friends were almost in the midst of them. On all sides and at alldistances were rugged peaks one hundred to two thousand feet high,rising sheer from a rose-pink sea over which the declining sun playedravishingly. Along the shores pelicans soared above the shallowinlets, watching for unwary fish. Tiny birds darted in and out amongthe cliffs. Down in the crystal depths of the sea, over shelves ofcoral, vague shapes hovered and passed and repassed--sharks, dolphins,turtles, and grunts, even the ghastly devil-fish.
All life seemed confined to water and to air; never was dry land sodesolate-looking as those myriads of barren volcanic cones. Yet one ofthese islands was peopled with human beings--San Cristobal.
Which one was it? The easternmost of the group, said the chart.
Circling that way. Bob gave a yelp like a pup which sees his youngermaster after he has been away all day.
"I see Dalrymple Rock!" he cried, with the binoculars to his eyes. "Isee Wreck Point, too, and a bay between 'em, with houses on the beach.That looks like our number, all right. What more do you want, Paul?"
"Nothing," laughed Paul,--"except our landing field. Find that, wakeup the other fellows, and I'll be satisfied."
In a moment Bob pointed out a flat field marked with the welcome whiteT, then he aroused John and Tom while Paul was bringing the Sky-Birddown. From a rickety old pier, also from the shores where they hadgathered, a crowd of curious natives rushed forward to witness thelanding of the most startling object they had ever seen. They were amixture of South Americans, mostly Ecuadoreans, and not until ourfriends stepped out of the cabin did they summon up enough courage toget very close to the machine.
Among them was the owner of the island--a good-looking youngEcuadorean, highly educated, who was to look after their interests inthe matter of fuel,--and the chief of police (presumably "chief,"because there is only one representative of the law in the Galapagos).
The owner of San Cristobal informed the flyers in excellentFrench,--which all of them except Oliver Torrey could speak,--that hewas delighted to welcome the first airplane crew to his little domain;that weeks ago the ship had brought gasoline and oil, which was nowawaiting their pleasure in the little nearby shanty; that he and hispolice officer and the peons were eager to serve them in any way theycould; and would the brave American aviators favor him and his policeofficer by joining them at the hacienda for dinner that evening?
Our friends graciously accepted this invitation, upon finding thattheir host would appoint a watch for the airplane. They then went withhim to his pretty hacienda in the valley--a green, undulating country,dotted with grazing cattle and horses, patches of sugar-cane, coffeebushes, and lime trees, stretching away to a cloud-capped range ofmountains.
Situated upon a hillock, in the midst of this entrancing valley, andsurrounded by the peons' grass houses, was the owner's home. Here theflyers partook of an excellent repast, garnished with the best theisland could afford, including tender wild duck from the surroundinglagoons and savory turtle soup. Then followed songs by their host, andjolly college melodies by themselves, accompanied by the sweet strainsof a guitar in the hands of the police officer.
Out in the compound, the peons also celebrated the occasion. Therewere great oil flares, thrummings of guitars, gyrating dancers inbright-hued ponchos, merry cries, the laughing of children, the barkingof dogs.
Everybody seemed thoroughly happy and contented. And, after all, whatelse matters? That is the Ecuadorean point of view, and who shall sayit is a bad one?
It was difficult for the boys to remind themselves that here they wereprecisely on the equator, so positively chilly was it. And yet theywere. It was the third time which they had touched that imaginarygirdle of the earth in the past week or so; and it was to be their lastcrossing. How inspiring the thought that they were now within one hopof their goal; that sometime on the morrow they would probably reachPanama well within their time limit of ten days!
The fact is, they had only 650 miles ahead of them--a distance whichcould easily be covered, barring accidents, inside of five hours, andthey had until one o'clock the following day in which to reach theirdestination. When they realized this, and were pressed mostinsistently by the owner of the island to spend the night, under theshelter of his roof, where there were two spare beds, the tired,bed-hungry flyers decided to remain over, Oliver Torrey going to thehouse of the police "chief." Torrey was really in no physicalcondition, as it was, to continue the flight immediately, for he hadsuffered a chill as the result of his exposure, and felt very weak.
Next morning they were up at the break of day, and at once began thetask of refilling the tanks of the Sky-Bird
and giving her machinery ageneral overhauling. Torrey felt much better, and assisted in theseoperations. His gratitude to the boys for deciding not to divulge theduplicity of the unfortunate crew with whom he had been connected wasvery great, and he spared no effort to help them on towardsuccess--which goes to show that this fellow was not at all bad atheart but had simply gotten in with a bad crowd.
It was a good thing that the flyers went over their engines. Johnfound a loose coupling in one, and a stretched fan belt in the other.Had they gone on in this condition trouble would have been sure tovisit them. It was small wonder, however, that something should not beout of good working order, for these faithful pieces of mechanism hadbeen given the hardest kind of usage day in and day out, each in itsturn, and sometimes working together, in this long flight around theearth. Their final test had been the storm. More than once the boyshad marveled at the remarkable efficiency of their motive power. Whata tribute to the mechanical genius of modern man had these enginespaid! They were almost human in intelligence, more than human in theiruntiring zeal.
The repairs were not difficult to make; the belt was cut and fastenedagain with a leather lace borrowed from the police "chief's" shoe, andthe careful use of a wrench and other tools out of their kit finallyfixed the loose coupling. But these operations had consumedunlooked-for valuable time, and when they had had breakfast with theirfriends and were ready at last to go, they found that the watch oftheir host indicated the hour of nine.
Setting their own watches to this local time, as had been their customin all towns upon arriving or leaving, our flyers once more thankedtheir entertainers for courtesies extended, wished them good-bye, andgot in their machine.
As they taxied swiftly down the course, the rush of wind from the bigpropeller sent more than one Ecuadorean's wide-brimmed hat flying fromhis head, and to the enjoyment of all, a native who was perchedprecariously upon an up-ended cask was blown heels-over-head backwards.
No sooner had they straightened out upon their northeasterly coursethan Bob sat down to his instruments and called up the Panama wirelessstation. In about ten minutes he got it, and told of their positionand the accident to the _Clarion_. They all knew that when the news ofthis catastrophe reached the American newspapers there would be thegreatest excitement, and that Mr. Wrenn would not only be grievouslydisappointed but horrified at the fate of the three members of his crew.
They now had just four hours in which to reach their goal. That meantthey must travel at an average rate of better than 160 miles an hour.Since they had gone considerably faster than this when the occasion hadwarranted it in the past, they felt no anxieties now. John, who was atthe throttle, opened the Sky-Bird up to 165, and at this gait theyskimmed swiftly along over the blue-green waters of the big Pacific.
"This speed ought to bring us in by twelve-thirty--a good half-hourahead of our limit,--so there's no need of rushing matters," said John,to which sentiment his comrades agreed.
By eleven o'clock all were keenly on the look-out. Each flyer covetedthe honor of being the first one to see the coastline of CentralAmerica, the resting-place of Panama.
Paul, with the binoculars to his eyes, was the one to win. It was justexactly 11:25 when he shouted in true mariner's style: "Land ho, myhearties!"
Taking the glass, one by one his comrades gladly echoed theannouncement.
But suddenly Bob's face turned chalky. "Jiminy, fellows," he cried,"what boneheads we are! We have been figuring on San Cristobal timeall the while. Panama's close to an hour ahead!"
"And we've only got thirty-five minutes in which to land!" said Tom."Huckleberry pie! Boneheads we are! Boneheads, boneheads! I repeatit--boneheads, boneheads! It's all off now."
Tom actually wrung his hands in his misery, and the others felt justabout as humiliated and disgusted with themselves.
"Here's where our prize goes a-flickering," groaned Paul. "We nevercan make Panama in thirty-five minutes!"
"I don't know about that," declared his brother grimly. "Here goes forthe effort, anyhow. I'll make the Sky-Bird fly as she has never flownbefore!"
With that he brought the throttle wide open, and two minutes laterthrew the second engine into commission.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE FINISH
They were not beaten yet! The wind whistled, shrieked, and roared asit swept aft along the smooth body of the Sky-Bird. The propellerwhirred, and the engines purred like two huge twin cats. So great werethe noises combined that the voice was completely overwhelmed, and noeffort was made by the flyers to talk with one another.
With their pulses beating wildly and hearts thumping in accord, theywatched the hazy streak on the horizon line ahead rapidly develop intothe unmistakable rugged form of land. As they drew closer, they couldeven see the glint of water on the other side, and knew without theshadow of doubt that what they were looking at was the long belt ofearth connecting the two Americas--the Isthmus of Panama itself. Anddown their backs ran a new thrill at the recognition.
Larger and larger loomed the brown and green strip in advance.Presently, amid the checker-board of nature's colorations, they couldmake out a bay and on a tongue of land a considerable collection ofbuildings. It was Panama City! Five minutes later they could evendistinguish the American flag--how glorious the sight!--fluttering atthe staffhead of the courthouse, and could see the streets and ships inthe harbor thronged with people who were evidently waiting to welcomethem.
The excitement of the throngs increased as the airplane drew closer.People jumped up and down, yelled, and waved their hats. It had beenonly a few minutes before that Bob had received the radio admonitionfrom the Panama station; "Town gone wild; but hurry in. You only havesix minutes left!"
Now they were circling high over the heads of the populace, with oneengine shut off and the speed of the other much reduced. In graceful,pretty circles the Sky-Bird began to spiral her way downward, John'seyes fastened upon the big white T of the familiar airdrome. As theycame down, people in the outlying districts rushed madly toward thefield, and the streets everywhere were choked with the concoursepouring toward the center of attraction.
Scores of others had previously posted themselves in the airdrome; butall were kept back by a cordon of ropes and a guard of Zone policemen.Inside of the barrier were a favored few Government officials anddistinguished personages, newspaper men, photographers, and Mr.Giddings and Mr. Wrenn themselves. Colonel Hess, the judge of thecontest, was also present, ready to receive the flyers' affidavits ofstops.
As the flyers stepped out of their machine many a camera clicked, andthe air was filled with the cheers of the multitude.
Colonel Hess stepped quickly up. In one hand was a watch; the otherwas extended.
"My heartiest congratulations, boys!" he exclaimed, as he receivedtheir paper. "You have arrived just in the nick of time. Panama time,it is now exactly fifty-nine minutes after twelve!"
They had won by one minute! The flyers were so tickled that they alsofelt like cheering. But they were sobered instantly when Mr. Wrenncame forward and they saw how sorrowful he looked in spite of the bravesmile with which he greeted them.
"Young men," said the publisher of the Clarion, "as the loser in thiscontest I also wish to congratulate you. We have suffered a heavy blowourselves, but you deserve full credit for the good work you have done,and I am not the kind of a contemporary to withhold compliments sofairly earned. I trust my men conducted themselves as true sportsmen,poor fellows."
Noticing that Oliver Torrey was on the point of making reply, John gavehim a warning look, and a moment later pulled him aside and said in alow voice: "Mr. Wrenn should not know that you fellows did not conductyourselves otherwise than fair in this race. That would make him feelall the worse. Keep mum to _everybody_ about this, and we'll do thesame."
Oliver Torrey nodded--tears in his eyes as he saw how desirous theSky-Bird's crew were of protecting his own interests as well as thegood name of his former associa
tes. What fine fellows they were! Howhe wished he could have been allied with them on this cruise, insteadof with Pete Deveaux and his bunch!
The hardships and perils of the past ten days were forgotten in theexcitement of the present. Our flyers hardly knew what they weredoing, so great was their joy. They shook hands with scores, heartsswelling with those emotions invoked by achievement and the glamor ofthe moment. It was--and always will be, perhaps,--the supreme hour oftheir lives.
Almost reverently they looked over the Sky-Bird. Through everypossible climatic rigor the airplane had passed, and practicallywithout any attention. Not once, from the time they had left this veryairdrome until they had reached it again, after traversing close to25,000 miles, had she been under shelter or sulked on them throughdeficient construction. Given a few days to overhaul her engines, theyfelt they would be quite capable of repeating their worldrecord-breaking achievement, if it were necessary.
These reflections were of brief duration, however; for the crowd,having forced its way past the barriers, and having satisfied itscuriosity over the machine, directed their attention to the flyers.Brimming with enthusiasm, they lifted every one of them shoulder high,laughing and cheering, and conveyed them to an extemporized platformmade from a large box. From this elevation, each flyer in his turn wascalled upon for a speech. The boys made these quite brief, but werevociferously applauded; and then the two famous publishers were askedto contribute. Following came the governor of the Zone, who veryeloquently expressed the pride the little Republic felt in starting offand witnessing the finish of this memorable event, and he said the keysof Panama were at the disposal of the young aviators until they shouldfeel it incumbent upon them to leave for the States.
For three days our friends remained, and during that time they were thealmost constant recipients of honors from civic clubs and associationsof the city, as well as from the English-speaking citizenry in general.They were entertained at dinners, at the theater, and at sportingevents out-of-doors--and not a penny were they allowed to spendthemselves.
To the aviators it all seemed like a festival snatched from the coversof "Arabian Nights." Had genii and fairies, elfs and goblins, appearedbefore them bearing gifts of gold and jewels they would hardly havebeen surprised, so unreal did everything appear to their tired minds;and tired bodies only grew more tired under the stress of the socialdemands.
Strange indeed were their feelings when, upon looking at back files ofnewspapers, they read the history of their exploits, recorded with adegree of detail which must have taxed the imaginative resources ofeditorial staffs to gray hairs; and saw picture after picture takenwith their own camera and sent across many a continent in the form ofundeveloped film, now to bring before their eyes once more the realismof the moment when they were taken. There were photographs ofthemselves collectively and individually in many a place now fardistant; views of the machine at rest, and of parts of it among theclouds and above them; two views of the fight with the condors; severalof Grandpa in various amusing positions; many pictures of foreignplaces and of natives; illustrations showing the battle with thedevil-fish; storms as seen from below, and storms as seen below whenflying above them. Even pictures of the wreck of the _Clarion_, and ofOliver Torrey climbing up the rope ladder, were not missing.
Before the flyers left Panama, Paul received many offers to sellGrandpa to various admirers, but no amount of money could have inducedhim to part with this faithful little mascot. Oliver Torreyparticularly felt that he owed a great debt of gratitude to the monkey.
When the party finally reached New York City, after a non-incidentalflight of one night and the major portion of a day, they were givenanother ovation--one which far outrivaled in volume the one they hadreceived at Panama. The mayor and city officials wished to fete them,but the boys were too exhausted to stand more of such doings; theywished to get home as soon as possible, hide from everybody but thosein their immediate families, and just rest--rest--rest. They didn'tthink they would even care to see their dear old Sky-Bird again forseveral months.
It would be hard indeed to comprehend the feelings that surged throughthe flyers as they landed the airplane in the fair-grounds of their ownnative town--Yonkers--and were greeted by hundreds of familiar facesand voices, to say nothing of the hand-clasps of many old-time friends.
But, after all, the reunion with their own relatives was the cause forthe greatest thanksgiving, as we may assume. Both Paul's and Bob'smothers had prepared the choicest of dinners for their famous sons, andthat evening the Ross and Giddings families were the happiest andmerriest ones in town.
Mr. Giddings and Mr. Wrenn both realized more out of the advertisingthan the contest had cost them. The former met his agreement by givingeach of his flyers five thousand dollars, and his business rival didlikewise by Oliver Torrey. Later on, Bob and the Ross boys sold theirpatents on the Sky-Bird to a large airplane manufacturing company for asum which promised to make them independent for the rest of their lives.
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