CHAPTER VII
ABOVE THE STORMS
While he fought the blasts of wind that tried to twist the Dragonflyout of control, climbing to get beyond their influence, Don tried todecide on the best course.
His ship was not equipped for navigation. No compass or radio wasprovided to aid him in such a difficult situation: otherwise it wouldhave been easy to rise beyond the storm levels, to set his propellertoward some predetermined objective where he could land safely and bewithin reach of a hospital to care for the injured mail 'plane pilot.
"But I don't know wind direction at different levels," he reflected,catching the ship as a gust of fierce wind caught the tail and swungthe ship around, broadside to the wind.
"I don't dare to run before the wind, because it has grown so black andwe've drifted so far off by now that I might not get near the base," headded to himself.
Garry, in the second seat, realized how difficult the situation was forthe youthful pilot.
A run before the wind, he understood, might take them out over theocean before they knew their danger: there it would be a question oftime only before the gas would be exhausted.
Long Island, with the Atlantic to its East and South-East, with thebroad Sound along its Western side and New York's bays in the South,was not the best place over which to fly "blind."
The safest course, Garry thought, was to go on climbing. Don, withoutbeing able to exchange ideas, felt the same way.
As the gusty wind got under the wings he operated his controls to rightthe ship; when the tail lifted, he compensated with the elevators,always climbing when he dared. Rain swept in stinging sheets across thewings and into their faces, cold and stinging, making the wings heavy,but Don gained slowly but surely in his fight for altitude.
Finally they emerged from the clouds, and soon were able to rise beyondthe worst of the turbulent air.
"I'll go higher," Don determined. "I want to be safe from the upsweepof warm currents; they upset the ship too much."
As he gained altitude, going close to the "service ceiling" or safestand highest altitude at which engine power was not dragged down toomuch by the lightness of air, Don saw, with dismay, that a worsecomplication confronted him.
The storms they had overcome were not the only ones existing.
After the humid, torrid day, storms were visible to the North, to theEast and to the West, as far as his eyes could probe the lower strataof air.
Theirs would be a poor chance if he flew toward the South: althoughonly the beginnings of turmoil lay in that direction, the sea waswaiting, and Don's only choice seemed to be to stay aloft as long as hecould, hoping for a lull between the periods of stress, through whichhe could drop to a lower point, get his location and perhaps make alanding.
With unexpected fury an eddying uprush of air took the Dragonfly in itsfierce grip, twisting and turning it, flinging the right wing high.
Swiftly, and with more than his usual force, Don threw the stick to aposition that should correct and right the ship.
His heart turned cold, a sickish feeling came into his stomach.
Somewhere in the heart of the control cords something parted.
On wingtip, the nose began to fall.
Instinctively, knowing that in that position the rudder functioned asan elevator, Don changed the position of the stick, using the rudderbar to elevate the rudder, gunning on full power to pull up the nose.
In that position, however, while the nose came up momentarily, savingthem from a dive, Don understood that they would very soon slip, onwingtip, sidewise, down into the turbulence below them.
Garry, thanking his good fortune that he had studied airplane designwith Don, during their work in the design and blue-print departments,acted.
He knew each rib, brace, strut and cable of that ship, could picturetheir positions from the multitude of drawings and of blue-prints hehad handled.
With swift accuracy he kicked through the flooring, light and very easyto demolish.
Plunging his hands through the openings, bent low, he probed withhurrying fingers for the loose cables of the elevators.
He found them.
The tug he gave informed him that the break of the cord lay between himand Don's stick. He could operate the elevators, but Don could not.
With the cords tautened he waggled them, shaking the ship.
Don turned his head.
He discerned Garry's bent position, realized what it meant.
Garry, though not a trained pilot, knew the operation of the controlsand could co-operate with Don.
With a swift movement of the stick Don began to right the ship as itstarted its sidewise slip.
Immediately Garry, knowing that the elevators would then function intheir proper capacity and that the rudder no longer could lift anddepress the nose, worked his cables.
Before the ship could fall off again, Garry drew the "flippers" upward.The engine, full gun, helped their effort, the ship began to surgeforward, gaining flying speed in the proper horizontal course.
Watching the nose, his head lifted, his position cramped, the brokenend of the cable in one hand and the slack of the other side held inhis other fist, Garry watched the ship's fore and-aft spirit levelbecause his mission was to hold the nose on a level.
Don, with the customary signal of his arm, pointed straight ahead.
Garry agreed with his decision to maintain a level course, flying intothe wind.
The gas gauge showed that they had fuel to last several hours. From theother instruments it was evident that oil feed and pressure, and othernecessary functions, were operating correctly.
If they could fly beyond the worst of the storm area, in the time theirfuel reserve gave them, they might, by dint of careful cooperation, getdown without serious disaster. Don looked back, pointed ahead.
Garry nodded.
Thus they flew on. Don knew that Garry, bent almost double, stretchinghis neck upward, was in a straining, difficult posture.
It would be a question of his muscular ability to hold himself againstthe torture that must come with the unnatural pose: aching musclescould in time compel him to relax, perhaps to let go of the cable.
"Good old Garry!" whispered Don to himself. "If it's in human power tolast, he will be the one to stick it out!"
It was torture, as Garry came to know before they ended that flight.
Ignorant of the drift of the wind, unaware of the real course, onlyable to guess at the flight direction by the position of the risingmoon, Don surmised that they were flying in a somewhat Northerly course.
Ahead he saw, with thankful eyes, an edge of a cloud dispersing itsfury in rain. There the flashes of celestial fire diminished inintensity.
Finally, with hearts that thanked a power greater than storm force, bydint of careful manipulation of signals and of controls, they made alanding in a field, amid quiet, storm-washed hills!