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

Frank sauntered on. He had a few errands to attend to, some small supplies to purchase connected with the seaplane, for new wants were constantly cropping up in that line.

The little adventure caused his blood to warm up, but Frank had been through so much in his past that he had by this time come to take such things as a matter of course, and accept them philosophically.

“If that was intended for a stall,” he said to himself presently, “it shows how desperate they’re getting about our disposing of the Sea Eagle to the French Government. Why, you’d think orders had gone out in Berlin to prevent the transfer by hook or by crook. Certain it is these people are risking their lives in the effort. But they will have to get up pretty early in the morning to best us, that’s all I can say, even if it does sound like boasting.”

Though remaining watchful, he was soon busy with his errands. No one brushed elbows with him in the stores but that Frank used his eyes to take note. Those who could arrange such an ingenious scheme as that swooning lady and the call upon him for assistance might be equal to other games of like character.

He managed to accomplish his several duties without any further cause for alarm, and was once more on the streets observing all that happened. A constantly increasing push of eager observers toward a certain point told Frank there must be something of an unusual interest taking place there, and consumed by the same curiosity he joined the throng, for he had heard someone say the ambulances with the wounded had just come in from the front.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PERIL IN THE SKY

Day after day the wounded from the front were being received in Dunkirk, Calais and other places along the coast. They were usually taken further on as soon as their immediate wants could be attended to.

In many cases the stricken soldiers would be carried by train to the large Red Cross hospitals in and around Paris. Then besides this, on many a night a steamer would start from Dunkirk across the Channel bearing hundreds of British back to their own shores, where they could receive the best of care among their people. These voyages were made when possible in the gloom of night, and at full speed, in order to avoid the risk of having the vessel torpedoed by lurking German submarines, ready to deliver crushing blows to her enemy’s ships.

Frank stood in the crowd and watched the transfer of the poor fellows to the temporary hospital. They were mostly British soldiers who had received their injuries while trying to hold the trenches against some fierce drive on the part of Bavarians or Prussians.

As he saw one after another swathed figure borne on stretchers from the ambulance motors into the hospital, Frank felt a sense of pity for all these who were suffering on account of this terrible war, no matter on which side they chanced to be.

He finally turned away, not caring to see any more such pitiful sights. He marveled at the brave front displayed by even the most dreadfully wounded men, who tried to greet the crowd and smiled through the mud that plastered their faces.

Remembering what he and Billy had discovered in connection with the gathering of a new army back of the German trenches, Frank expected that in a few days there was bound to be a greater stream of wounded pouring into Dunkirk than ever before, because a desperate attack was doubtless contemplated.

When he learned from Major Nixon that some of the Allies’ aviators had brought in the news concerning that gathering host of gray-clad soldiers, Frank realized that he could speak of it without reservation, since it would not be giving information as to the enemy’s contemplated plans.

Remembering one more errand which needed his attention, Frank, after leaving the vicinity of the Red Cross hospital, had immediately started to look after it. He was through with it and actually starting for the hangar when once again he became aware of the fact that a sudden confusion had broken out. People were shouting in an excited manner, as though a mad dog had broken loose and was coming down the main street of Dunkirk.

There was no difficulty in learning what was the matter. That wild cry of alarm was becoming very familiar to the ears of the worried citizens of Dunkirk these stormy days.

“The Germans are coming! The Germans are coming!”

In French and in English this shout was being carried along, constantly added to by scores of voices. People rushed pell-mell this way and that, many dodging down into cellars, as though seeking safety from some terror that was likely to descend on the coast city like a cyclone.

Those who were not yet running had their necks craned, and their eyes turned upward toward the northeast. Frank stepped over to where he could see better, and then he also “rubbered,” as Billy would have called it.

On numerous occasions the German aviators had conducted an organized raid on Dunkirk, dropping dozens of terrible bombs in what seemed like an indiscriminate fashion. Possibly these were in the main intended to damage the camps or accumulated stores of the British legions; but if so the aim of the men in the Taubes was singularly bad, for the majority of the bombs had thus far either exploded in the open streets, or shattered private houses.

Many innocent persons, including women and children, had suffered from these explosives, and it was not singular then that whenever the cry was raised that the “Germans were coming,” meaning a raiding flock of aëroplanes, there would ensue a mad panic in the streets of the French city.

“There are several moving things over there away up in the heavens,” Frank told himself as he gazed in more or less excitement. “Even without a glass I’m almost ready to say they can’t be Taubes.”

He stood there watching and waiting until the soaring objects drew closer, when their true identity could be discovered.

Frank, being an aviator himself, quickly detected certain things that the common observer might never have discovered; and which told him the half dozen specks in the sky that February morning were birds and not aëroplanes.

“Some gulls flying high,” he murmured as he watched. “Yes, there they circle around, which aviators bent on bombarding the city and then running off in a hurry would never think of doing.”

He told those near him that there was nothing to fear, as the suspected Taubes were only harmless birds. The cheering word was passed along from mouth to mouth, and some of those who only a few minutes before were looking very peaked and white commenced to laugh, trying to make out that they knew all along the advancing specks were only birds.

By degrees even the shivering inmates of the cellars learned that it was a false alarm, and ventured to appear again.

“And I suppose this happens several times every day,” Frank mused as he watched the arteries of traffic once more begin to flow naturally. “While little damage that amounts to anything has been done by the bombs, the coming of the Germans is looked forward to with dread. I suppose if a flier happened to be brought down with a well directed shot from a gun it would give the people more pleasure than anything they could wish for.”

It struck him that possibly the other boys might have heard something of all this excitement and would be worried about him. So Frank stepped into a store he knew of and proceeded to get the hangar on the wire. There was some little difficulty at first, as though a good many people were trying to communicate with their homes for some purpose or other. Finally a voice called in good English:

“Hello! that you, Frank?”

“Yes, that’s who it is, Billy. I only called you up thinking you might have heard all the shouting, and wonder what it was.”

“Oh! some of the guards here guessed it, and we’ve been watching the gulls through our field glass. But how about the other business, Frank; is it all fixed?”

“I’m coming back right away,” Frank told him. “Soon after I join you, there will be something doing. I’ll tell you the rest when I get there; but everything is going on O. K. So-long, Billy. Keep watching, for they’re ready to try everything under the sun to gain their end. I’ve got a new story for you when I come.”

Frank by this action had not only accomplished his purpose of relieving the minds of his chums, but at the same time he had made sure that things were unchanged at the hangar.

Determined not to take any risks that could be avoided, Frank waited until he saw a battery of field-pieces moving along the road that led close by the gate of the hangar. Perhaps the guns had come over from England on the previous night, and being badly needed at the front, were starting forth.

This was the opportunity he wanted. By keeping alongside the guns and caissons he could defy any hidden danger. If there were spies waiting to waylay him in some rather lonely spot, just as they had Pudge on the preceding night, the presence of those young khaki-clad warriors seated on the gun carriages and ammunition carts would foil them.

There was no trouble. Possibly Frank might not have been held up even though he chose to take the walk without any protection; but when in doubt it was always his policy to “play safe.”

When he again found himself in the hangar, the others were eager to hear what he had promised to tell them.

“You’ve been having another scrape of some sort, like as not,” ventured Billy, pretending to look morose, as though he begrudged his comrade that privilege while he and Pudge were only sitting there killing time.

Frank thereupon related how he had been drawn into rendering assistance when the said-to-be wife of an apparent citizen of Dunkirk, who spoke excellent English without a French accent, appeared to faint close to the door of her own home.

The other boys were thrilled by what seemed like a narrow escape on the part of their comrade.

“Ganders and gridirons, Frank!” exploded Pudge after listening with distended eyes to the account given by the returned chum. “That was a narrow squeak for you, as sure as anything.”

“Yes,” added Billy, “they had it all laid out to trap you. If you’d dared to step inside that open door I reckon you’d have been tapped over the head, and when you came to again it would be to find yourself in some old damp and moldy cellar. I give you credit for tumbling to their smart game, Frank.”

“Bayous and bullfrogs, they certainly do want to get hold of this bully machine of ours the worst kind, and that’s a fact!” spluttered Pudge.

“But tell us about the Major, and what he agreed to do?” asked Billy.

“It’s all fixed just as we figured it,” replied Frank. “I want this man here to understand what has been done, so come over to where you’ve got him.”

The prisoner had been watching them eagerly. He must have guessed that Frank had been gone to settle about his fate, and, if ever a man looked nervous, he did, as the three boys advanced toward him.

“Listen to something I want you to hear,” said Frank. “We know what you are, and that if you were given in charge as a spy you’d likely be shot by to-morrow morning. But we are American boys, and not at all inclined to have the blood of a German honestly serving his Fatherland on our hands. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, go on,” muttered the man, brightening up, though still anxious.

“I have arranged it with the authorities that you will only be looked on as a petty thief. You will be held in close confinement for a few days until it is certain that any information you may have picked up while here in this building will be useless. Then they will take you out of the city and set you free, with a warning never to be seen here again if you value your life.”

Now the man’s face lighted up in a smile.

“That is much better,” he said, after drawing a long breath of relief. “We thought you were on the side of the Allies, because you meant to turn it over to the French Government.”

“You must remember,” said Frank impressively, “that this machine had been over here, boxed but not assembled, for months before the war opened. My company had a contract with the French people, who insisted on representatives being sent across to demonstrate the new flier; otherwise they threatened to seize it, and make duplicates without our receiving any remuneration – the necessities of war. That is why we have come, and are even now trying to carry out the terms of that agreement. You can tell your people that only for this our company would not dream of making aëroplanes for one side or the other. They could not be shipped out of the United States, anyway.”

“I understand your position,” said the man; “and while it explains many things it does not change our design to prevent the enemy from profiting by your improved type of machine. If by any means it can be stolen or destroyed we believe we are only doing our duty by the Fatherland in risking our lives to attempt it.”

“Well, here comes the patrol to take you to the city prison; and, remember, you are to insist that you entered our hangar to steal, not to spy on us,” Frank told him.

CHAPTER XV.

ON GUARD

“You will restore to me my papers, I hope?” remarked the man.

“If you mean the naturalization papers that stamp you as one Hans Larsen, formerly of Sweden,” replied Frank, “I am going to put them in your inside pocket. But they will be taken by the officials, and I doubt if you ever see them again. They must know they are either stolen, bought, or forged, and that you only carry them to give trouble in case you are arrested.”

He was as good as his word, for he had taken the papers to show the Major in case any proof were desired after his story had been told.

Then came the file of British soldiers, direct from Major Nixon. They brought a note from the officer to Frank and his chums, desiring that the prisoner be turned over, and also stating that the word he had given Frank would be religiously kept.

The spy walked away in the midst of his guards, who had orders not to let him communicate with anyone on the way. In order to make more positive of this, they had a covered wagon close by, in which he was to be conveyed to the jail.

“I’m glad we’re free from him,” said Billy, after they had watched the party leaving the stockade.

“You don’t think there would be any attempt made at trying to rescue him while they’re on the way?”

“Sugar and sandwiches, but I should hope not!” exclaimed Pudge.

Frank did not seem to be worrying about such a remote possibility.

“No, I don’t think they’re numerous enough to risk an encounter with a dozen armed Tommies looking for trouble, just as Pudge here would look for his breakfast,” he observed.

“Now we’ve got the place all to ourselves,” said Billy. “There’s such a thing as being overcrowded, as the backwoodsman remarked when he heard that another family had started a clearing three miles away from his shack. But I’d like to have been down in Dunkirk when they sighted those gulls coming sailing along, ever so high up in the air.”

“Dories and dingbats, but I warrant you there was some excitement to the square inch,” Pudge insinuated.

Frank laughed as he stretched himself out on a bench to rest.

“You missed a grand sight,” he told them.

“Lots of people scared, I take it?”

“Well, they were fairly crazy,” he was told. “If a menagerie of wild animals had broken loose and come to town it could hardly have created more of a panic than when that cry sounded through the streets: ‘The Germans are coming!’ Men, women and children all ran this way and that. Some dodged down into cellars, while others crawled under front door-stoops, as though that would save them in case a bomb burst close by. It was a panic, all right, and I never saw anything like it in all my experience.”

“They must have felt silly after they found out what it really was?” Billy went on to say.

“Oh, not so very much,” he was told by the one who had been on the spot, and was in a position to relate things at first hand. “You see a good many started to make out they knew the dots must be birds, and said they had just been carrying on in that excited way for a lark.”

“To be sure,” declared Billy, “that’s the way lots of people always try to crawl through a little hole when caught with the goods on. Some of the others, I reckon, laughed it off, and admitted that they didn’t care to be blown up; that they got plenty of that sort of thing at home, as it was. But, Frank, how about our own program?”

“You mean about staying here and being ready to start off when we get the word – is that it, Billy?”

“Yes; shall we stick it out here the rest of the day?”

“I think,” said Frank, “none of us have any need to leave the place again until we start the motors and open up on the second trial spin, this time with some of the best British aviators along to observe how the Sea Eagle carries herself.”

“Do you think there will be a representative of the French Government aboard to take notes along the way?” asked Billy.

“That’s my understanding of the case,” he was told.

“Well, it ought to settle the matter of our business, Frank.”

“Just what it must,” came the reply. “We’ll give an exhibition of all the Sea Eagle is capable of doing in a way to make those other seaplanes look sick. Then we’ll expect to have the deal closed. That’s my understanding of the bargain.”

“But, Frank, whatever are we going to do for eats between now and to-morrow, when we come back from the raid up the coast?” asked Pudge, with a despairing expression on his fat face that would make anyone believe he had lost his last friend; or else just heard the news that he was to be hanged in three hours.

“I’ve fixed all that,” the other told him, “and right now I think I see the wagon coming with a lot of good stuff, such as can still be had in Dunkirk if you’ve got the francs to buy it with.”

Pudge was comforted by hearing such glorious news. He immediately took up his position outside the door from where he could keep an eye on the road close to the stockade gates.

“What are you doing out there, Pudge?” called Billy.

“Sandwiches and sauerkraut, but you wouldn’t want to run the risk of having that grocery wagon miss the place and drive past, would you, Billy?” demanded the sentinel; and the others let him alone, knowing full well that Pudge would not allow any accident of that sort to come about as long as his voice held good.

It turned out that Frank had bought a whole assortment of things to eat; indeed, Billy declared he believed they could stand a siege of a whole week with that lot of foodstuffs to fall back on.

“Three days, anyhow,” assented Pudge, who evidently had a different viewpoint from Billy when it came to sizing up the lasting qualities of edibles.

With the aid of the little stove they prepared a lunch, and really enjoyed it immensely. Pudge seemed to be reminiscent, for he brought up numerous half forgotten times of the past when in company with Harry Chester they had enjoyed many a similar repast, cooked under strange conditions it might be, but never to be wholly forgotten by those who took part in the feast.

Then the afternoon came and it was a long one to the three chums shut up for the most part in the hangar. The fire was kept up in the stove, because there was a tang to the February air so close to the Channel.

Frank went carefully over every part of the seaplane to make certain it was in the best shape possible for the long journey they had before them under conditions that no one could possibly foresee. He did not mean to neglect the slightest thing that could add to their comfort and safety.

Pudge had managed to make himself a pretty cozy nest with a couple of blankets, and he put in part of the afternoon “making up for lost sleep,” he told them. It was a standard joke with them that the fat chum was always far behind in his customary allotment of sleep; somehow or other he never did seem able to fully catch up.

Billy and Frank often stepped outside and took an observation. This not only included the weather but the conditions existing on the harbor, where there were boats of various descriptions to be seen, for the most part unloading war material sent from Great Britain in spite of Germany’s submarine warfare.

“This has been a pretty good day for aërial work, Frank,” suggested Billy. “What about the prospects for to-morrow?”

“I think we can count on it holding about as it is for another twenty-four hours,” came the answer, “and then a change is about due. It’s still cold enough to snow, and I expect we’ll meet a lot of snow squalls when we’re making that trip up the Belgian coast.”

“Do you really believe there’ll be that many seaplanes in the bunch – thirty or more, the Major told us?”

“They have planned to make this raid a record breaker, it looks like,” said Frank, “and will try to get out every machine they have a pilot for. It’s going to be a feather in our caps to be able to say we accompanied them, no matter what amount of damage they manage to inflict on the submarine bases, or railway stations and gas or oil tanks of the German army.”

“Well, I think we’re in great luck to get the chance to go along, Frank; though, of course, we don’t mean to throw a single bomb, or do the least thing to harm the Kaiser’s army. As I look at it the main purpose of our being allowed to accompany the squad of raiders is to let them see what cards we’re holding in this invention of Dr. Perkins. The French Government officials want to be shown, just as if they were from Missouri.”

“They’ll see a few things calculated to make them open their eyes, unless I miss my guess,” said Frank, with quiet confidence; for he knew what the Sea Eagle type of hydro-aëroplane was capable of doing when properly handled, and only longed for the opportunity of showing those British aviators, some of them well-known air pilots, the crowning triumph of Yankee ingenuity.

“It’s getting on toward evening now, with the sun near setting time,” remarked Billy, as though he felt that a load was taken from his shoulders with the passing of that almost interminable day.

“There’s a steamship coming in,” Frank said. “It’s taking all sorts of chances of being torpedoed, even if the Germans have said they are holding back until the eighteenth to start the reign of terror.”

“Do you really think the submarine blockade is going to work?” asked Billy.

“Honestly I don’t see how it can,” Frank replied. “They have only a certain number of the latest undersea vessels capable of staying away from a base for a week. These can’t be everywhere, and are liable to be sunk by torpedo boats. I’ve no doubt the Germans will punch holes in a good many small steamers; but as a rule the big ones can run away from them. I guess it’s a whole lot of a bluff, between you and me.”

“Will Great Britain dare them to do their worst, do you think, Frank?”

“Yes, even knowing that they threaten to sink merchant vessels and their crews of noncombatants without giving warning. Somehow or other it does seem to me that Germany is doing everything possible to make outsiders distrust her. But I suppose we can’t look at things the same way they must from inside, especially since England threatens to starve Germany into submission.”

“There’s the sun going to set,” remarked Billy.

They stood and watched it go down, and the gray of evening begin to creep across the cold sea. So that night in February closed in. Like a grim phantom the steamer came stealing into the harbor, with few lights showing.

“Let’s go in where it’s warm and comfortable,” said Billy. “Frank, since we have plenty of stuff along with us why not make an allowance of coffee for the men who are standing guard over our plant here. A mug of hot coffee would take the chill out of their bones, I’m thinking.”

“A good idea, Billy, and thank you for suggesting it. We’ll find what Pudge says, and carry it out. With the lantern we can make the rounds, and see that no sentry is omitted.”

With such sentiments spurring them on, the boys entered the hangar and found that Pudge was already deep in the pleasing duty of getting supper ready. Hardly had they mentioned the subject of treating the guards to a cup of hot coffee than he announced that he was heartily in accord with the scheme.

CHAPTER XVI.