Kitabı oku: «Dave Dashaway Around the World: or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among Many Nations», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XXIV
THE HOME STRETCH
“Ready for a start,” ordered Dave.
It was under new and favorable circumstances that the young pilot of the Comet spoke the words. The lonely island in the South Atlantic was now a mere fading memory, the many leagues traversed by land and sea lost in the past. The Comet and the airship boys were stationed in a field near to a little hostelry on the outskirts of Rio Janeiro.
It was rare good fortune, indeed, that the young adventurers had happened across Jabez Hull. Within twenty-four hours after discovering the shipwrecked mariner the Comet was on her way due west, with a new passenger.
The forge, tools and metal material once belonging to the wrecked Flying Scud had come in most usefully. Dave knew enough of popular mechanics to utilize them practically. He declared the biplane as solid and perfect, after a careful overhauling and repairing, as when the machine had left the original starting place of the great international race around the world.
The “treasure” of the eccentric Jabez Hull had been taken aboard. It represented a keg sewn up in a coarse canvas jacket. Hiram was alive with curiosity to know what possible material the package could contain to equal in value the vaunted twenty thousand dollars. On that point, however, the castaway had insisted on preserving utter silence.
“I’m a man of my word,” he said, “and that is all there is about it. Land me anywhere on American territory and I will divide my riches.”
With this the airship boys were forced to be content. Room was made for the precious keg by leaving behind on the island the greater part of the exigency equipment of the Comet. The young pilot felt that now all they need fear was the giving out of the gasoline supply. There was plenty of this aboard the wrecked ship, and they managed to find storage for quite an extra supply of it.
It was a daring dash, this final one over leagues of open sea in their frail aircraft. Once begun, however, the airship boys were dauntless and tireless. Fine weather and favorable winds assisted them, and without a single notable mishap they had reached the great Brazilian metropolis.
The young aviator was anxious to get to a telegraph office at once. He left Hiram and Elmer in charge of the Comet. Jabez Hull insisted on accompanying him to the city.
“I want to get action on that keg of treasure,” he said. “I know several shipping houses in Rio. I’ll be back here to the airship by noon.”
“Make it noon, sharp,” advised Dave, “for we cannot afford to lose a single second in the race now.”
“I’ll be here on time, don’t you fret,” declared the castaway.
He and Dave parted when they reached the heart of the city. The young airman was back with his friends before noon. He had gotten in touch with Washington. What he learned made him more than anxious to resume the flight.
“We are third, fellows, so far as heard from, I am sorry to say,” he announced to his anxious comrades, and this put them in a great flutter.
“You don’t mean to say that any of the machines has reached goal?” cried Hiram, his heart sinking to his boots.
“No,” replied our hero; “but number seven was reported at Para yesterday. This morning number two was at Cayenne. They are hundreds of miles nearer home than we are.”
“Then it’s a run day and night from this on,” insisted Hiram, bustling about excitedly.
“It will have to be, if we expect to make good,” said Dave. “Mr. Hull has not returned yet?”
“Not a sign of him,” reported Elmer.
They were all busy for the next hour, getting things in shape for a speedy and sustained flight on the home stretch. Dave glanced at his watch.
“It is after noon,” he observed. “I don’t see how we can afford to wait any longer for Mr. Hull.”
“Why, we simply mustn’t,” declared the impatient Hiram.
“Get ready for a start, then. Here, Elmer,” and Dave wrote a few lines on a card. “Take that to the hotel keeper and tell him to give it to Mr. Hull when he shows up.”
“What were you writing?” inquired Hiram, as Elmer darted away on his mission.
“Directions as to how he can wire us and where he can find us later,” replied our hero.
They waited ten minutes after the return of Elmer, but there were no signs of the missing passenger of the Comet. The machine went aloft as if filled with the spirit that infused its crew. They were soon whizzing on their way north.
“Wonder what our queer shipwreck friend will say when he finds us gone?” inquired Hiram.
“He will understand the urgency of the situation, for I explained it in my note,” said Dave. “He has some money with him, I know, and will doubtless make for Washington at once.”
“I say,” broke in Elmer; “what do you fellows think about this boasted treasure of his?”
“I, for one, don’t think anything about it at all,” responded Hiram, bluntly. “He’s either a dreamer or a skeesicks. His not coming back to us looks as if he had served his purpose in getting to safe territory and has abandoned his old keg.”
“I’d like to know what it holds,” said Elmer.
“Well, it isn’t gold and it isn’t diamonds,” replied Hiram, rather contemptuously. “I noticed in shifting it this morning that its canvas jacket was greasy at one place, just as if the keg was full of oil.”
“Never mind,” spoke Dave. “It will do for ballast till we reach home. Then, if Mr. Hull does not appear, we will have to open the keg and see what is in it.”
The Comet made five hundred miles in three laps. Once only, at Caracas, did they have to stop for gasoline. It was early one morning when the Comet came to a stop near Belize.
Dave as usual hurried to the nearest telegraph office, and soon had the wires busy. His anxious assistants greeted his return all in a quiver over expected news.
“What have you found out, Dave?” projected Hiram.
“Yes, we’re all on edge to know if there is a chance to get in first,” added Elmer.
“Number seven is two hundred miles ahead of us – just sighted at Vera Cruz,” said the young airman. “No word has been received about number two since our last report.”
“Oh, Dave,” cried Hiram, in a wild fever of longing and suspense, “we’ve just got to reach goal first!”
“We shall make a very hard try, at all events,” replied our hero, doughtily. “Get out the chart, Elmer. We must save every needless crook and turn from this on.”
The eager boys were soon inspecting the chart. Vera Cruz was two hundred miles away. Number seven had over six hours’ lead, estimating the situation on a full speed basis. The young air pilot did some intense calculating. Then he drew his finger across the chart past New Orleans, across Louisiana, and on a line as the crow flies for Washington.
That day was one of the greatest stress for the airship boys. There was no thought of sleep, and they cared little for food. Hiram chattered the greater part of the time. Elmer was so anxious that he was restless and worried. Dave kept at the wheel, grim, determined and persevering.
They ran steadily all the next night. At a little town over the border of Georgia they had to stop for gasoline. The storekeeper from whom they obtained it gave them some information that spurred them up afresh.
“You’re the second in the last three hours,” he informed them.
“You mean the second airship?” inquired Hiram, eagerly.
“Just that. One flew over about daylight.”
“How headed? What did it look like? Where did it go?” In his hurry and eagerness Elmer stumbled over his words recklessly.
The man could not describe the airship, but enough was gathered from him in a general way to give the boys some idea of the course taken by their predecessor.
“It’s number seven, I have every reason to believe,” said Dave, when they started up again.
“Then it will be a close finish,” declared Hiram. “We’ve gained on her a good deal, you see.”
It was superb running for several hours after that. The landscape beneath them, now wild and desolate, seemed to spin along like a rapid panorama. They were traversing an uphill and down dale course, when Hiram suddenly uttered a positive yell.
“Dave, Elmer,” he shouted – “look there!”
“It’s number seven, sure as you live!” echoed Elmer, excitedly.
“I think so, too,” agreed their pilot more quietly, but all his senses were on the keenest alert.
Over beyond a high ridge all hands saw distinctly an airship. Its outline answered to the description of number seven. The way it sailed told that it was an expert racer and under the control of a true professional.
It was lost to view behind a tree-capped ridge. When the Comet in its course has got past this obstruction, the airship had disappeared.
“It’s gone, but where?” called out Hiram.
“There it is,” suddenly cried Elmer.
About three miles ahead of them was a little settlement. This side of it a fenced-in farm showed. In the center of its barnyard the airship boys saw the machine that had been sailing aloft a short time previous.
Apparently it had descended on account of some break or accident. There seemed to be no valid reason why it should land at a remote farmhouse.
“Why, there’s trouble,” exclaimed Hiram.
“There surely is,” said the young pilot of the Comet, and the trio viewed a somewhat startling spectacle.
The owner of the other airship stood near his biplane. Four men surrounded him. Three of them were armed with guns, and they confronted the airman in a menacing way.
CHAPTER XXV
CONCLUSION
The airship boys at once saw that their fellow aviator was in trouble. Our hero made a direct descent. The Comet came to a standstill beside the other machine. Its pilot leaped out and approached the group.
Dave at once recognized number seven, and the young man, Pierce, who ran it. He hailed him in a friendly fashion. Then he turned to the four farmers. A frowsy, obstinate-looking old fellow with a pitchfork was evidently the father of the three stalwart youths armed with shotguns. First he regarded the newcomers with surprise, and then suspiciously and with dislike.
“Why, what is the trouble here?” inquired the young airman.
“That’s the trouble,” growled the old man, pointing to a row of upset bee hives and a break in the field fence beyond. “Do you see that horse over there making for the woods? Well, that’s old Snorter, my primest animal. This here young fellow comes down in his b’loon and scares the hoss nigh into fits.”
“Ran out of gasoline and a bolt out of gear,” explained the pilot of number seven.
“You have no right dropping into my yard!” shouted the farmer, wrathfully. “It’s trespassing.”
“That’s right,” drawled the biggest of his sons. “I’m a deputy of the sheriff in this county. You have violated the law. I shall have to take you to Millville to court to answer in an action of wilful trespass.”
“Yes, and I shall insist that you be held in a civil suit for damages,” declared another of the sons.
Young Pierce cast a hopeless look at his machine and anxiously at Dave. The latter took in the situation at a glance.
“See here, mister,” he said to the old farmer; “we are desperately sorry that this has happened.”
“Yah!” sneered the shrewd old schemer – “money talks.”
“How much?” demanded our hero, without hesitation.
“Well, them bees is a special brood. The hives and the fence ain’t much, but there’s old Snorter. He may wander away and get lost; he may fall into some of those lime pits beyond the timber and get hurt. Then again, he’s so frightened he’ll probably run away at the least scare after this. One hundred dollars, I told this young man here.”
“But I haven’t got it,” cried Pierce. “I offered to give you an order on Washington, and you won’t take it.”
“Not I,” retorted the hard-fisted old fellow. “Cash down on the nail head.”
“I ran short at Savannah,” explained Pierce to Dave. “I fancied I could get through with the twenty dollars I had left, being so near home.”
Dave took out his pocket book. The old farmer’s eyes glistened as our hero handed him five crisp twenty-dollar banknotes.
“Now then, Pierce,” spoke the young airman, “that’s settled. What’s the trouble with your machine?”
It did not take the expert Dave long to find out. Within half an hour he had the faulty gear sound as ever. The Comet had a full supply of gasoline. A transfer of some of it was made to the tanks aboard number seven.
The farmer and his sons, fully satisfied now, stood watching operations. Hiram and Elmer hustled about, giving their leader and his fellow aviator all the help they could.
“Everything is in trim,” announced our hero, finally. “Good-bye and good luck.”
Pierce held the hand so generously extended by Dave in a tremulous grasp. Tears of gratitude and esteem had rushed to his eyes.
“Dashaway,” he said, in a choked, broken voice; “you’re a man, every inch of you!”
Number seven went aloft. Dave called “all aboard!” Hiram pulled his face at the mean-spirited old trickster who had bled them. Elmer shook his fist at the farmer crowd.
“That’s you!” exclaimed Hiram. “Just fitted Pierce out to beat us, and delayed us, besides.”
“Wasn’t it the best kind of fair play?” challenged Dave.
“So good,” declared Elmer; “that I’d almost rather come in second with the big heart you’ve got, than think I’d left a fellow airman in the lurch.”
“Well, it’s a free for all now, I hope,” spoke the anxious Hiram. “When a fellow is so near the winning post as we are, it makes him selfish, I guess. Yes, you did just right, Dave Dashaway; only, if you see some stray tramp limping along, don’t stop to give him a lift.”
Within an hour the advance pilot of the race, number seven, was nowhere in view. Our hero had made a study of this one close rival in the field as well as repair the machine. He had found out where it was weak and the Comet strong. Barring accident, the young pilot of the Comet felt sanguine that his machine would reach the winning post first.
The airship boys did some splendid running. They made no stops except for fuel and water. They ate and slept on the wing. Hiram counted the moments and Elmer the miles. At midnight, thirty hours later, they were within two hundred miles of Washington.
It was a momentous climax in their earnest young lives. They had circled the globe. They had overcome every obstacle in their path. They had won, the proud pilot of the Comet and his eager assistants hoped and believed.
With a cheer, husky with emotions, seeming to swell up in his heart like a fountain of joy, Hiram Dobbs arose in the machine as it settled down almost at the very spot whence it had started – “oh, almost years before!” Elmer declared.
Dave Dashaway stepped from the machine. The cares, the hardship, the worry, the doubt of long arduous weeks seemed to fall from him like a garment. He gave one vast sigh of relief and satisfaction. Every eye was at once directed towards the club house. Some field men came running from the distant hangars.
“Say,” spoke Hiram, with a queer anxious jerk in his voice – “the bulletin board!”
His heart sank as he ran towards it. Elmer followed close on his trail. There were notations opposite the various numbers. Had someone preceded them – had someone won the race?
And then, after a single glance, Hiram threw his cap up in the air, his face beaming, and Elmer grasped his hand, delirious with excitement. Dave, coming up, found them dancing about as if half mad with joy.
For the lines on the bulletin board bore only such notations as these: “Number ten – abandoned at Winnipeg.” “Number six – wrecked at Cape Nome.” “Number five – abandoned,” and others “out of commission.”
There were blanks after number seven and number two. As the airship boys stood there, a man came quickly out upon the veranda which held the bulletin board. He cast an excited glance at the travel-worn Comet. He waved his hand gaily at the three young champions. Then with a piece of chalk he wrote on the third blank line:
“Number three, Comet; pilot, Dashaway – first.”
A date, an hour, a minute, even down to odd seconds followed. The world knew that the airship boys had won the great international prize!
There were so many pleasant and rapidly occurring events transpiring close on the heels of the great race around the world, that for over two weeks our hero and his loyal comrades had a busy, interesting time of it.
Twelve hours after the arrival of the Comet, number seven came into the goal. She was a bird with a broken wing. A patched-up plane told of a last dash under decided disadvantages.
“Don’t you crow over me, Mr. Dave Dashaway,” said the energetic young Pierce, playfully. “I win second prize, all alone by myself. You three have to divide yours. But, better than the international trophy, is the big thing you did for me, and people are going to know about it, too,” declared Pierce, and he kept his word.
Mr. Brackett was very proud of the son who had “made good” in an exploit calling for more than ordinary ability and grit. To our hero he insisted all the credit was due, and the young airman realized that he had made strong, lifetime friends.
It seemed to the airship boys the very happiest moment of their lives, the day a dainty little miss drove up to the Comet hangar, and Miss Edna Deane, with tears of joy and gratitude, and her lovely face fairly glowing, told them what heroes they were.
“My brother is resting with a relative in England,” she narrated. “Father has gone to bring him home. If you are a thousand miles away from Washington when they return, you must promise, all three of you, to come to the family reunion, of which you are surely members, as friends and brothers. Father and brother will have something interesting to say to you. We are very, very grateful – and, oh, so proud of you!”
“It’s worth something to find a little sister like that,” cried Hiram, as their visitor left them, all sunny smiles and happiness.
“‘Something interesting’ means a right royal reward, of course,” spoke Elmer. “Why, fellows, if we keep on, we’ll soon have the capital to start an aero meet all our own!”
It was just a week after that, early one morning, that the airship boys, seated in the aero association club room, were hailed joyously by an unexpected visitor.
“Why, Mr. Hull!” exclaimed Dave, greeting the newcomer warmly.
The shipwrecked mariner looked like a new man. He wore a spick and span suit, and was cleanly shaven. He seemed well fed and happy.
“Missed you at Rio,” he announced; “but knew you’d do the square thing. Met a chum who financed me, and came on to get my keg.”
“Which is safe and sound in the storage room here,” announced our hero.
“Well, all we’ve got to do is to get it hauled down to a chemical works in Washington to get our money – half of it is yours,” observed the old salt.
“Say, Mr. Hull,” broke in the irrepressible Hiram; “what in the world is in that keg, anyway?”
“Can’t you guess?” asked the old salt.
“We haven’t the least idea, unless it’s grease.”
“Grease! Ha! ha!” laughed the sailor. “Not much, my lad. Give another guess.”
“I don’t see what could be worth such a sum of money as you claim,” returned Hiram, his face showing how puzzled he was.
“You haven’t opened the keg?”
“No,” answered Dave, promptly.
“It ain’t leaked none either?”
“Not enough to count.”
“I am glad o’ that, lads. I wouldn’t want that stuff to git away from me, after all the trouble I had gittin’ it, an’ all the trouble you had carryin’ it so far.”
“But we are wildly excited to know what it is!” cried Hiram. “Please don’t keep us waiting any longer.”
“Hiram has made all sorts of wild guesses,” laughed Dave. “First he thought you had gold dust – but gold dust isn’t greasy.”
“No, it ain’t gold dust.”
“Then what?” pleaded Hiram. “Come, out with it, Mr. Hull.”
“Ambergris,” promptly replied Jabez Hull. “Found it floating on the water off that island where you met me. I suppose you know it’s worth just double pure gold an ounce, and so rare that the price never goes down.”
“Well, what next?” asked Hiram, some time later.
“I don’t know,” answered Dave. But many more adventures were in store for our hero, and what some of them were will be related in the next volume of this series, to be entitled: “Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds.”
So we leave our young friends for the present, happy, honored and still ambitious. They had been leaders and heroes in the aviation field. Their efforts had been practical and not reckless. They had shown a new course around the world. They had proven a new possibility in aerial science, and fame and fortune had been the reward of Dave Dashaway and his intrepid airship boys.
