The Boy Aviators with the Air Raiders: A Story of the Great World War

“They’re dropping down in a hurry!” declared Billy. “There, I can see a great big shed off yonder, and it must be this that the dirigible is aiming to reach. We could, however, bombard the shed as easily, and destroy it together with its contents. Frank, it makes me think of an ostrich trying to hide its head in a little patch of grass or weeds, and because it can’t see anything, believes itself completely hidden.”

“Well, as we haven’t even a gun along with us the Zeppelin is pretty safe from our attack,” remarked Frank. “We’ve proved one thing by coming out to-day.”

“I guess you mean that we’ve given the Germans something to puzzle their wits over, eh, Frank? They know now that no matter what big yarns have been told about the new Yankee seaplane they tried to steal, it’s all true, every single word of it.”

Billy seemed to be quite merry over it. The fact that the dangerous Zeppelin had fled in such wild haste, shunning an encounter, while the vicious little Taube aëroplanes darted about like angry hornets, yet always kept a respectable distance away from the majestic soaring Sea Eagle was enough to make anyone feel satisfied.

“I admit that at first I was kind of shaky about defying the whole lot, but I’ve changed my mind some, Frank,” he called out a minute later. “Yes, the shoe is on the other foot now. They’re afraid of us! Makes a fellow puff out with pride. There’s only one thing I feel sorry about.”

“What might that be?” asked the other.

“If only Harry could have been along to enjoy this wonderful triumph with us, or Dr. Perkins either. It would have completed our victory. But from here I can see that army on the move as plain as anything. They’re meaning to make one of their terrible drives somewhere along the Yser Canal, perhaps when that air raid comes off that we heard so much quiet talk about.”

“Well, that raid may be held up a while,” Frank told him. “They must believe that French or British pilots are aboard the Sea Eagle right now; and for all they know there are half a dozen just such big aircraft waiting to engage their fleet if it hove in sight of Dunkirk or Calais.”

“Every time we make a sweep around you can see the nearest Taube scuttle off in a big hurry,” ventured Billy. “Why, Frank, some of those machines are carrying a quick-firer with them, but they’ve had orders not to take risks. What would you do if they actually started to close in on us?”

Frank laughed as though that did not worry him very much.

“Why, there are several things we could do, Billy. In the first place we can go higher with the Sea Eagle than any of those flimsy Taubes would dare to venture, though I’d hate to risk it in this bitter cold air.”

“Yes, that’s true, Frank, and like you I hope we will not have to climb any further. It isn’t so bad in the summer, but excuse me from doing it now. We would need two more coats on top of the ones we’ve got, and another hood to keep our ears from being frozen stiff. What’s the other idea?”

“A straight run-away,” explained Frank. “If I really saw that any of them meant business, I could crack on all speed until we were making the entire two thousand revolutions per minute. That would leave them far behind.”

“I should think so,” admitted Billy, who had the greatest possible faith in the ability of the seaplane, as well as the cleverness of its young pilot. “Once we got to going our prettiest and they would look as if they might be standing still. Who’s afraid? Set ’em up in the other alley!”

“I think I’ll show them something to start them guessing,” Frank was saying a minute later. “They haven’t yet seen what she can do under forced pressure.”

“Let her out to the limit then,” pleaded the passenger, who could never experience too much excitement.

So Frank began to turn on full speed, and the wonderful creation of Dr. Perkins’ inventive brain was soon swooping along in a manner calculated to make some of those who were staring through glasses far below gasp with astonishment bordering on awe.

After all, Frank Chester was a boy, and must have felt a natural pride in being able to thus surprise the whole of the Kaiser’s army with his amazing new aircraft. He knew that tens of thousands of eyes must be riveted upon them at that particular moment, from the officers at Headquarters to the mud-spattered and half frozen men concealed in the irregular trenches.

“See the Taubes giving us all the room they can, Frank!” cried Billy.

“Evidently they’re not hankering after an engagement with the Sea Eagle, Billy.”

“They make me think of a flock of wild ducks on a lake when an eagle poises on fluttering wings above them, picking out his dinner,” Billy went on to say. “They scatter and dive and act half crazy; but nearly every time the eagle gets what he’s after.

“Well, all we want is a clear road back over the way we came,” the pilot pursued. “Fact is, we’re not near so dangerous as we look. All we could do just now would be to ram a Zeppelin, and go down with it.”

“But they don’t know that, Frank, which is lucky for us!” declared his chum.

No doubt, Billy, in common with most other boys, must have learned at school the familiar saying that “pride always goes before a fall.” He had just been doing considerable boasting, and his heart was even then swelling with the conviction that he and his chum were virtually snapping their fingers at the whole of the Kaiser’s scattered army with every enlisted man craning his neck in wonder.

Then came the sudden shock, all the more terrifying because so utterly unexpected. It seemed to Billy that his very breath was taken away. The joyous buzz of the motors that had amounted to almost a shriek ceased as if by magic; and the Sea Eagle, shooting forward a bit under the impetus of her great speed, quickly began to volplane toward the earth, thousands of feet below!

CHAPTER VIII.

A SAFE RETURN

Who could blame Billy if he turned ashy pale at that critical second. He could not believe that this was any scheme of Frank’s for showing off what the great seaplane was capable of, though on previous occasions he had known such a thing to happen.

The one terrible conviction that flashed through his mind was that something had happened to stop their motors at this great altitude; and that the Sea Eagle was now, with ever increasing velocity, heading downward to earth.

If they managed, through any degree of dexterity to escape death, there must always be more or less chance of the machine being wrecked; and even though that catastrophe were avoided, it was sure to fall into the hands of the Germans. Then good-by to their hopes of keeping its construction a secret.

But Frank had been busy meanwhile. He was not the one to be caught napping by any sudden happening. Their present predicament had been accurately discounted by the clever mind that had invented many parts of the strange seaplane.

No sooner did Frank realize that the motive power had ceased than, with a quick snap of the hand, he had turned a valve that was within easy reach.

This allowed pure hydrogen gas from one of the cylinders to rush into the buoyancy devices, which might be called the crowning triumph along the line of insurance against accidents connected with Dr. Perkins’ invention.

As if by magic, the upper wings of the aircraft began to swell until they had all the appearance of puffed-out mattresses. How the eyes of those who were watching down below must have grown round with wonder as they realized that here was something altogether new. It was also a hitherto unheard-of device intended to diminish the terrible risk of a fall ever present with those who go up in aircraft.

The swift volplaning had immediately begun to grow less pronounced, and Billy, feeling that after all they were not going to drop to the ground, drew in his first breath since the accident had come about.

Frank was already busily engaged in examining the stalled motors. So reliable had the same brand always proven in connection with the Sea Eagle type of hydro-aëroplane, that Frank could not remember ever having such an accident occur.

They were now floating aimlessly in space, not having any means of moving save as the wind might chance to cause the seaplane to drift, much after the manner of an old-time balloon.

“Can you make the repairs, Frank, or do we have to hang out the white flag of surrender?” called Billy, in an agony of fear lest their wonderful tryout cruise be fated to come to such an ignoble finish.

“There’s nothing terrible the matter,” came the reassuring reply from the pilot, still working with feverish haste at the motors. “I think I can get things working again in a hurry.”

“Oh! you make me happy by saying that, Frank,” Billy told him. “I was beginning to think I could see the inside of a German dungeon, or a firing squad standing me up against a blank wall. I hope it doesn’t take long, Frank. There, they start their plagued old anti-aircraft guns again!”

Indeed, the first heavy crash of breaking shrapnel not far from the stationary seaplane proved that Billy’s remark bore the stamp of truth. They had rushed down with such impetus that before the buoyancy devices could accomplish the purposes for which they were intended, the seaplane had once more dropped within range of the elevated guns below.

Now having a stationary target to aim at instead of one that was making something like sixty, seventy, or perhaps fully five score miles an hour, the experienced gunners were very apt to send their shells dangerously close, so that at any second, fragments from one, as it burst, might do terrible damage to either the seaplane’s motors or her daring young pilots.

Oh! if Frank could only hurry and repair the motors, Billy was saying over and over again to himself as he clung there and tried to keep count of the numerous sudden puffs of gray or white smoke, indicating the breaking of the shrapnel shells around them.

What if one of them, better aimed than the rest, should shatter those buoyant wings that were their sole means of remaining afloat in the upper air! A rush, an agonized sensation of the earth coming up to meet them, and that would be their last realization of what life meant.

Billy would never forget that frightful agony of that minute as long as he lived. A minute – why, it seemed to the shivering boy as though he must have lived almost a whole year while that furious bombardment kept up; Frank coolly tinkered with the motors.

Then Billy heard his chum calling to him; never had words sounded one-half so sweet.

“Got it fixed. Be out of this in a jiffy!” the other shouted, for there was so much racket around them that words spoken in an ordinary tone could never have been heard.

Then Billy forgot about the crackling shrapnel and the circling Taubes. He had caught the familiar whir of the propellers as the motors started once more upon their work. It was a very soothing sound to Billy’s wrought up nerves.

Immediately the Sea Eagle began to speed forward. Frank’s first act was to set the suction pump to work emptying the great wings of gas, and sending it back to the reservoir intended for storage purposes. This was done because they could never hope to attain any great amount of speed otherwise.

When they were falling, the boys had heard what seemed to be a concerted roar from thousands of lusty throats below. This they knew had indicated the sudden delight of the watching and deeply interested soldiers in the aërial mishap that appeared to have overtaken the wonderful Yankee invention.

These shouts kept up more or less while the anti-aircraft guns were furiously bombarding the nearly stationary seaplane; but as soon as the latter started off again, as though in disdain at their futile efforts, the noise ceased like magic.

Frank first of all mounted higher, until none of the bursting bombs came anywhere near them. Then, feeling perfectly safe from this danger, he set his course toward the southwest.

“Heading home, are you, Frank?” asked Billy, not at all disappointed, for their trial spin certainly had contained enough thrills and dangers to satisfy even such a greedy lover of adventure as the one-time reporter.

“Yes, we’ve done all we set out to attempt, and a good deal more into the bargain,” replied Frank, casting a cautious look to the right and left, not meaning to be taken off his guard by any venturesome German pilot aboard a Taube machine, who might risk all in a last attempt to cripple this amazing seaplane that outclassed anything they possessed.

“You’ve finished pumping the gas back again into the reservoir, haven’t you, Frank? Do you think there was much loss?”

“Not a bit more than two per cent., for we’ve tested that before,” he was informed.

“They’ve given up the pursuit,” Billy observed presently, showing that all this while he had been keeping an eye on those swift flying little Taube machines that had continued to dart hither and thither, like angry hornets, yet not daring to make an attack.

Since there was no longer any visible sign of danger, the boys were able to once more observe the checkerboard picture that lay far below them. Accustomed to being up among the clouds, they knew just how to gauge distances, and in this way could get the relative value of things. A novice would have found his calculations along these lines sadly at variance with the facts.

“For one,” said Billy, his voice showing signs of trembling, “I won’t be sorry to hug up to a stove when we get to our hangar once more. This air is bitter up here, and seems to go right through you. We’re in for a decent spell of weather, it strikes me, Frank.”

“Yes, it ought to last another day or so,” the other replied, as though its condition was of importance.

Indeed, when the wind blew the pilots were kept from making their daily reconnoissance. During storms and snow, or even rain, it was useless to take the risks of venturing aloft, because the view would be so limited, with the earth shrouded in fog or snow squalls, that it would not pay to ascend.

So it was that hundreds of daring aviators would welcome this spell of quiet weather as an opportunity that could not be allowed to slip past without being taken advantage of.

“We’ve passed over the trenches along the canal,” announced Billy, still handling the glasses, and as usual telling the busy pilot what he saw. “Now I can hear the British shouting hoarsely and they seem to be waving all sorts of things up at us. Do you think they know we are supposed to be trying out this seaplane which was really contracted for by the French Government before the war broke out?”

“They have guessed that we must be friendly to their cause, because they saw something of what went on back there when we struck that mine field,” Frank explained without the least hesitation.

He had been dropping lower the while, partly because the air was so keen and cutting so many thousands of feet up and also on account of the fact that they had nothing more to fear from hostile demonstrations.

“There’s the road to Dunkirk and Calais that the Kaiser said his men would tramp along in time to be in town at Christmas,” laughed Billy, pointing his gloved hand downward to where could be seen various detachments of marching troops, with scores of huge motor vans taking supplies out along the fighting line for the men who held the trenches, and the bridge-heads across the river.

“The British, with reinforcements coming up every day, seem to be holding all the ground around here,” Frank was saying. “Can you see Dunkirk yet, Billy?”

“Oh! yes, easily enough. It isn’t such a great distance away from where the fighting is taking place. They’ve heard the roar of the big forty-two centimeter German guns at Dunkirk more than once this winter.”

Still lower they dropped, until at less than a thousand feet they sailed along, now over the water, with the Channel on their right, and the disputed shore of France to the left.

“Will you alight on the water, and then head straight for our hangar, Frank?”

“That is the easiest way to do it,” came the answer, as though Frank had every detail mapped out in his head.

“I warrant you Pudge is standing somewhere, and watching us come along, with his heart beating furiously, ready to fairly hug us after we get ashore.”

Billy grinned as he thus pictured the delight of their fat chum on hearing how magnificently the gallant Sea Eagle had disported in the air high above the German Headquarters, and what a spasm of alarm their coming had sent to the hearts of the various air pilots belonging to the invaders.

With the grace of a monster swan, the seaplane circled around several times and then alighted on the bosom of the water, as softly as floating thistle down. Equally at home in the air or on the water, the strange hybrid craft immediately commenced to move along in the direction of the wooden inclined plane leading by a gradual rise from the water into the elevated hangar.

So ended the amazing and satisfactory trial trip of the Sea Eagle.

CHAPTER IX.

THRILLING NEWS

“Mumps and mathematics, but I’m glad to see you boys get back safe again!”

Of course that was Pudge, otherwise Ulysses Perkins, expressing his gratitude at the return of the gallant Sea Eagle and the two bold air navigators.

Pudge was close by on the shore when the seaplane ran in to the foot of the wooden trestle, upon which the big seaplane was drawn on the wheeled carriage, built for that purpose, until it was once more safely housed in the hangar.

“Don’t ask a single question, Pudge!” called Billy, “until we’ve got her up the inclined plane, and snugly sheltered from the public view. I guess there must be a thousand people outside trying to see what the Sea Eagle looks like. They must have watched us coming on down the coast, and had a bad case of fright at first, thinking it meant another spell of bomb dropping.”

“Yes, lend us a hand, Pudge,” added Frank, “and help get the machine settled evenly on the little carriage. You know we have it so arranged that she can be hauled up by means of this cable, and by her own motors. I’ll stay aboard to guide things, and you two follow after we’re safely in the hangar, not before.”

Billy knew he meant a rope might possibly break, and it would be dangerous for anyone to be caught upon the trestle by the descending seaplane. Indeed, Billy had a pretty vivid recollection of the narrow escape of the two spies who had barely jumped aside at the time of their downward rush.

Everything went off without the slightest hitch, and the first act of Pudge, after climbing the ascent in company with Billy, was to hastily look over the returned air traveler from the spoon-shaped bow to the opposite extremity.

“Seems to be without a scratch, Frank!” he exclaimed in undeniable glee.

“Why, did you think we had been in some sort of smash-up?” demanded Billy.

“Well, no, not quite so bad as that,” admitted Pudge; “but I knew some of those German spies must have tried pretty hard to capture the craft, and if that failed I reckoned they’d wanted to do something to put her out of commission. Now, please, sit down here and tell me everything.”

“Ours is a long story, Pudge,” said Frank, “as you can judge for yourself when I tell you we’ve been far up over the fighting lines in Belgium, found ourselves bombarded by shrapnel, and threatened by half a dozen Taube flying machines, as well as a Zeppelin!”

“Gosh! all of that?” gasped Pudge.

“Yes,” added Billy, shaking his forefinger at the stout chum, “and before we relate the whole story in detail you’ve got to tell us what happened last night that made you fail to come back when we expected you.”

“Oh! I wanted to, all right,” spluttered Pudge, as though he felt that somehow his bravery or his honor might be involved in the explanation demanded; “but, say, there were three of them, all big husky men, at that, and they caught me unawares just by that turn of the road. It was getting kind of dusk, too, and I never dreamed of trouble till one clapped a hand over my mouth, and the others held me while they tied a bandage around my face. Whee! I was near smothered at first.”

“They were Germans, Pudge?” questioned Billy, interested in the fact that Pudge had also had his share of adventure.

“I heard them talking in German, which made it look that way,” replied the other soberly.

“They didn’t hurt you very much, did they?” asked Billy, looking more closely at their jolly comrade.

“More my feelings than anything else,” replied Pudge, shrugging his fat shoulders disconsolately. “They just kept me there while they waited to catch some sort of signal. I listened, too, and heard some shouting, but that cloth kept me from making out what it meant. Afterward they set me free, and disappeared. I didn’t know what to make of it when I got to the hangar here and found the Sea Eagle gone.”

“You even felt afraid they had grabbed our seaplane, didn’t you?” asked Billy.

“Well, it gave me a bad scare at first,” Pudge admitted, with charming frankness.

“But you got over that later on, eh, Pudge?”

“I did when I heard you calling me from away out somewhere in the dark,” explained the other. “Were you on the water at that time, Frank, because I figured you must be, with that old fog horn sound coming stealing in to me out of that bank of gloom?”

“Yes, that’s where we were, Pudge,” Frank told him. “Now, since you’ve explained all about your own doings, we’ll satisfy your curiosity by telling you the particulars of the trial trip of our sample seaplane. Billy, you can do the talking, if you feel equal to it, while we start a fire here, and warm up with some coffee.”

A fire was soon sending out a fair amount of heat, and the coffee pot placed upon the top of the little sheet-iron stove gave promise of good cheer to come. The aviator boys had enjoyed this social cup many times while working on the assembling of the various parts of the seaplane, so that they had all the necessary accompaniments close by to be used after the coffee had boiled.

Meanwhile Billy had been thrilling Pudge with a recital of all he and Frank had gone through since the fat chum left on his errand. He pictured the dash down the trestle when the determined German secret agents were trying to break in at the doors, so as to seize and run off with the wonderful machine. From that he went on to the adventure in the fog and darkness of the night while they lay on the water of the harbor, and the searching parties came upon them.

Then followed the early morning flight, what amazing things they had seen when passing over the trenches, the fierce bombardment to which they were subjected, the maneuvers of the hostile aircraft, the accident to the motors, and finally their triumphant return to the hangar.

Pudge drew a long breath when the story reached its conclusion.

“And to think that I wasn’t along with you when all those things happened; it’s enough to make anyone weep,” he said, looking so downcast that Frank felt it only right he should try and cheer the poor fellow up.

“Never mind, Pudge,” he told him, “you were doing your duty just as much as any of us. The fact that we made that grand trip over the firing lines doesn’t mean we have any more reason to crow than you do. You can always say that you once had the great luck to be actually taken prisoner by the Germans.”

“Oh! they treated me all right, only that they kept me a prisoner and wouldn’t parole me on my honor not to betray them. Then, that cloth they tied around my face must have been something they picked up, for it seemed like an old rag. But thank goodness it’s all over with now.”

“Yes,” said Billy lightly, “no use ever borrowing trouble about things that are dead and gone. You know they say the mill will never run again with the water that is past. But there’s someone at the door, Frank.”

“I imagine it must be our friend, Major Nixon,” said Frank. “He’s heard that we’ve been away on some sort of trial spin to test things, and has dropped around to learn how we made out.”

“He’s going to be surprised a whole lot when he hears all we’ve got to tell,” said Billy, with a chuckle, as he started over to unfasten the door, upon the panel of which those knocks had been sounded.

It proved that Frank was a good prophet, for the visitor was the red-faced British officer connected with the aviation squad at Dunkirk. His manner betrayed the fact that he had come either to fetch some important news or else to be told something along those lines.