CHAPTER II
A Flight in Quest of News
Fairly atremble with eagerness, Jimmy ran out into the hangar and made arapid inspection of his plane, to see that everything was right. Heglanced at the wheels, to see that the chocks were in front of them,then scrambled into the cabin and touched the starter. His engineanswered with a roar. Jimmy throttled it down until it was idlinggently. For a moment he sat listening to it. Then, satisfied, he climbedout of the ship, and set about completing his preparations for the taskahead of him.
Had Jimmy been a little more experienced in newspaper work he would nothave been so excited about this simple assignment that Mr. Davis hadgiven him. All he had to do was to fly a hundred miles or so, gather afew facts, take a few pictures, and get back as quickly as possible. Butthere was no need to hurry, as there would have been had it been late inthe day. Nevertheless, Jimmy was all atingle with enthusiasm andeagerness. He could hardly wait to be at his task.
Jimmy had always been like that about anything in which he wasinterested. He put his whole soul into whatever he was doing. Doubtlesshe owed his present job to that very fact. For after he had lost hisplace as a reserve mail pilot, when Uncle Sam quit flying the mails,Jimmy had realty created this present job for himself. He had told Mr.Tom Johnson, the managing editor of the _Morning Press_, that thatnewspaper ought to have its own plane and its own pilot. And when Mr.Johnson said that that was the last thing the _Morning Press_ needed,Jimmy had decided to prove to Mr. Johnson that the newspaper really_did_ need a plane and a pilot even though the managing editor thoughtotherwise. Jimmy proved his point by volunteering to execute twodifficult commissions for the _Morning Press_ and then by succeeding ineach commission. And in each case he owed his success to his enthusiasm,his whole-hearted devotion to his task, and his refusal to be defeated.In each case perseverance had won for him.
First, he had volunteered to find Warren Long, when that veteran pilotwas lost in "the graveyard of airplanes," as the mail pilots call thatvast and terrible mountain wilderness in western Pennsylvania. And hehad found him, after all other searchers had been baffled. He had foundhim disabled by a broken leg, in the path of an advancing forest fire,after a terrible forced landing. The story of that adventure is told in"The Search for the Lost Mail Plane." Thus, for the second time, Jimmyhad saved the life of this brother pilot that he loved so well. Thefirst time was when Warren Long's plane fell into the Susquehanna Riverimmediately in front of Jimmy's home, and Jimmy had swum out in the icywater and rescued the unconscious pilot. The account of that rescue isgiven in "Piloting the U. S. Air Mail," That occurrence marked thebeginning of the devoted friendship between this older pilot and theyouthful Jimmy. So it is easy to see why Warren Long sent a bit of hisparachute to Jimmy, who was interested in collecting such things, andwhy Jimmy told his city editor that Warren Long would do anything forhim.
The second commission that Jimmy had executed for the _Morning Press_was the running down of a gang of robbers after one of them had looted amail plane that had crashed one stormy night in this selfsame "graveyardof airplanes." The story of that thief chase is told in "Trailing theAir Mail Bandit." It was a long, hard chase, too; and one which Jimmywould never have won had it not been for these very same qualities ofenthusiasm, determination, and perseverance. For in this case Jimmy hadhad to work against the greatest obstacles and the most incrediblediscouragements.
In both cases he won; and his success did far more than merely clear uptwo mysteries. It convinced Mr. Johnson that Jimmy was right when heargued that the _Morning Press_ ought to add a flier to its staff. Mr.Johnson added one; and quite naturally he chose Jimmy. Thus it was thatJimmy's job, like his plane, was brand-new.
Although Jimmy had handled these two big stories successfully, though ofcourse he had considerable help, he didn't feel any too sure of himselfyet as a reporter. For during the short time that he had been a regularmember of the _Morning Press_ staff, there had been few stories on whichJimmy could work. Mostly he had been doing tasks of the fetch-and-carrysort. He had transported pictures and camera men and reporters. But hehad had little opportunity for independent news gathering. Hence hewelcomed this present chance with such eagerness.
But even though Jimmy was not yet a seasoned reporter, there was onequality he possessed that made up for much that he still lacked. He hada naturally keen news sense. He was gifted with what newspaper men calla "nose for news." He felt the dramatic possibilities in everything heheard and saw. He seemed to sense the facts that should be secured inorder to make the most of a story. That was why he at once saw that thetale in the morning paper about Warren Long was faulty, that thecorrespondent had failed to secure the dramatic elements in the storythat would appeal most to people. That was why Jimmy knew there was areal human interest story in this thrilling leap from a burning plane.It was this keen news sense that now made Jimmy so eager to get thefacts--the significant facts--that the correspondent had failed tosecure. Jimmy wanted to make good. He wanted to help his paper "scoop"all the other newspapers in New York. He believed he could do it. Thatwas why he was all atremble with eagerness. Like a race-horse at thebarrier, he was restive and impatient to go.
But though Jimmy was green in the newspaper game, he was well seasonedin the flying business. He had had too much experience to take anythingfor granted. Hence, while his plane was warming up, Jimmy made sure thathe was prepared for any emergency. He saw to it that his flash-light wasin its place and in good working order. That was the first thing hethought of. In future it would always be the first thing he thought of.Warren Long's letter had made an indelible impression on his mind. Hesaw that the plane contained a little case of emergency rations that hehabitually carried. He made sure his pistol was in place. That was apiece of equipment most fliers lacked. Mail pilots are compelled tocarry pistols, and Jimmy had formed the habit of flying armed, while hewas in the mail service. Experience had shown him the wisdom of having afirearm at hand in his ship. He made sure that he had his topographicmaps and other articles that he had found to be necessary or desirable.Of course he put his camera aboard, with a plentiful supply of films.
After a final close inspection of the plane, Jimmy put on his 'chute andsnapped it fast. Then he climbed into the cabin, glanced at theinstruments, held the stick back, and shoved the throttle forward. Nolonger was there the staccato of exploding gases, but instead athundering roar. Jimmy kept her wide open while he noted the maximumnumber of revolutions his propeller was making, his oil temperature andoil pressure. Then he switched from one "mag" to the other, but noticedno difference in "revs." Gradually Jimmy throttled her down to a murmur.She was perfect!
An attendant came forward and pointed to the chocks. Jimmy nodded "O.K." As the attendant pulled the chocks from the wheels, Jimmy glanced atthe wind-sock on his hangar. Then he taxied slowly down the field. Heheaded into the wind and gave her full gun. The ship acceleratedrapidly. With a thundering roar the ship took off gracefully, guided byan experienced hand and brain. Jimmy was off on his assignment.
He cut over to the very edge of Long Island and followed the southernshore-line. Over the Bay and across the southern end of Staten Island hewinged his way, heading south of west, to pick up the route of the AirMail. Long before he crossed the Delaware, near Easton, he was right onthe line. How much like old times it seemed, to be flying over thebeacon lights. To be sure, they were not flashing now, in the morninglight, but he knew where the towers were and he saw each one as he flewover it, where it stood like a friendly sentinel, to point out the path.
In the clear light of day Jimmy had no need of guide-posts or flashinglights or radio signals. He knew the route as well as a schoolboy knowsthe way to the high school. But Jimmy's plane was equipped with radio,and ear phones were built into his flying helmet. Presently he "pluggedin" to his instrument board to see if he could pick up the weather. Thatis a topic of constant interest to every flier. He had barely passedNumidia before
he heard the Bellefonte radio man sending out his hourlyweather report. "This is station WWQ, Airways Communication Station,Bellefonte, Pa., broadcasting weather information on the Chicago-NewYork airway. It is now 10 A. M. Eastern Standard Time. At Hadley Field,N. J., scattered clouds, ceiling unlimited, visibility eight miles, windsouth, nine miles, temperature 50, dewpoint 29, barometer 29.98;Allentown, Pa., scattered clouds, ceiling unlimited, visibility sevenmiles, wind southeast, four miles, temperature 51, barometer 29.94. ParkPlace, Pa., broken clouds, ceiling estimated four thousand, visibilityten miles, wind southeast, fourteen miles, temperature 45, barometer29.89; Sunbury, Pa., overcast light haze, ceiling estimated twenty-fivehundred, visibility four miles, wind calm, temperature 50, barometer29.81; Numidia, Pa., overcast light haze, occasional sprinkles of rain,ceiling twenty-four hundred, visibility three miles, wind southwest,five miles, temperature 49, barometer 29.79. This concludes thebroadcast of weather information from station WWQ, Bellefonte, Pa."
"That sounds good to me," thought Jimmy. "I ought to get over toRingtown and back to Long Island without having to face any bad weather.I'm certainly glad of it, for I'll have enough trouble as it is."
He flew on, his head phones still plugged in. Sounding endlessly hecould hear the steady stroke of the Air Mail radio beacon sending astring of dashes--"dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah," which tells the pilotwhen he is exactly on the line. Jimmy had small need of any such helpthis morning, for the air was so clear that he could see for miles inevery direction. But he thought of the invaluable help this radio beaconmust be to the mail pilots in the fog. The device had been perfectedsince Jimmy was a mail pilot. He had never carried mail under itsguidance. But he was as well equipped to profit by it as any mail pilotwas. More than once he had been helped in bad weather by this very samesignal, as he flew along the mail route.
In a sense he was helped now. A little breeze had been coming up, thatblew across the line of flight. Jimmy was being blown to one side,without realizing it. Of course he would presently have noticed thatfact anyway, and brought his ship back to the line, but the signal inhis ears gave him prompt warning. No longer did he hear the steady beat:"dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah." Instead, the head phones were saying:"dot dah, dot dah, dot dah, dot dah, dot dah." The radio signal hadchanged to dot dash, dot dash. That told Jimmy that he was to the leftof the line. He knew that if he had chanced to be on the right side ofthe line instead, the signals would have changed to dash dot, dash dot,and his head phones would have said: "dah dot, dah dot, dah dot, dahdot." He nosed his ship a little into the wind, and presently he wasright over the line once more, and the head phones again were singing:"dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah."
"Gee," thought Jimmy, "if only they had had the radio beacon from thestart, how very many tragedies the Air Mail would have been saved. It'sfine for the men who are carrying the mail now. They always know whenthey are on the line, even if it is so foggy they can't see a thing. Ifit just weren't for these old Pennsylvania mountains, flying the easternleg of the Air Mail would be pie. But I guess this leg will always be agraveyard. Hello, here's Ringtown. I've got to be thinking about gettingdown."