Jane, Stewardess of the Air Lines

The floodlight opened up the night with its blue-white brilliance and the tri-motor rolled across the field and soared westward again. Miss Comstock came down the aisle with an armful of the latest magazines.

“This will be one of your duties,” she said as she offered them to Jane and Sue. The girls made their selection but Jane found her eyes too heavy for reading. She changed places with Sue and dozed again while her companion read.

At the end of another hour, the plane started bucking sharply and sleep became impossible for any of the girls.

Miss Comstock came along the aisle and spoke to each girl.

“There’s a bad cross-wind. See that your safety belts are buckled securely.”

The plane continued to bounce up and down, sometimes dropping for what seemed to Jane hundreds of feet only to bound upward again with a jarring shock.

Sue was white and perspiration stood out on her forehead.

“I hope we won’t have many trips like this,” she gasped. “Oh, I wish I hadn’t eaten that candy!”

Jane looked around to see how Grace and Alice were faring. Grace looked like a ghost, but Alice seemed unaffected. One of the girls at the rear of the plane became violently nauseated but Miss Comstock, cool and undisturbed by the rough weather, cared for her.

One thing Jane realized; they were all getting a thorough test of their weather ability on their first long flight.

The weather was rough all the rest of the way to Omaha, but after the first half hour, Sue recovered her equilibrium and managed to smile at the white face and tight lips of some of the other girls. Poor Grace was in agony most of the way.

“Lunch is ready at the field restaurant,” Miss Comstock announced when they rolled into the hangar at Omaha.

Various replies greeted her announcement. Some of the girls were ready to eat, while several could only groan at the thought of food.

Charlie Fischer climbed down and spoke to Jane and Sue.

“A little rough the last hundred and fifty miles,” he grinned.

“It was more than a little rough,” retorted Sue. “It was terribly rough.”

“Say, that was smooth compared to some of the weather we strike west of here. You’ve got lots of surprises ahead.”

“I’ve had enough for one night,” replied Sue, “but maybe I won’t notice it from now on.”

“Some people are all right after the first time and others never get over air sickness,” replied Charlie cheerfully.

“What a great help you are,” countered Sue.

“I’m leaving you here. This is the end of my run tonight. Maybe you’ll be assigned with me when you go into active service.”

“If flying with you means weather like this, I hope not,” smiled Jane.

Miss Comstock, anticipating that some of the girls might be air-sick, had ordered a light supper and only one of them, Pert Meade, who had been ill aboard the plane, was unable to enjoy the attractive meal.

It was eleven o’clock when they re-entered the cabin, ready for the flight over the windswept Nebraska country. A new pilot, an older man than Charlie Fischer, was at the controls.

The girls took their places, fastened the safety belts, and the big ship roared away again.

The weather was still rough as they followed the Platte River valley, riding high above country along which the pioneers had struggled in the early days of the West. They were following the U. P. trail, but were covering in an hour a distance it had taken the first settlers weeks to traverse.

Jane looked at the air-speed indicator. They were traveling only a little more than a hundred miles an hour and she knew that the wind outside must be blowing a gale. Below them one of the department of commerce emergency landing fields, outlined with red, green, and white border lights, drifted by. She looked at the route map. The field must have been Wood River, just west and a little south of Grand Island. They were still another hour out of North Platte.

It was well after midnight and most of the girls were dozing. Jane looked around and saw Miss Comstock in the last of the single seats on the left side of the cabin. The chief stewardess was looking out the window, staring with a sort of desperate intentness into the night, and Jane wondered if there was anything wrong. She listened to the beat of the motors. They were running smoothly, with whips of blue flame streaking from the exhausts, and Jane concluded that she had been imagining things when she decided Miss Comstock was upset.

Several minutes later the chief stewardess hastened up the aisle and disappeared along the passage which led to the pilots’ compartment. She returned almost immediately and snapped on the top light, flooding the cabin with a blaze of brilliance. Just then the motor on the left wing stopped and Jane knew that something was decidedly wrong for the chief stewardess’s face was pale and drawn.

Chapter Seven

Crash Landing

Jane shook Sue into wakefulness, and, cupping her hands so that only Sue could hear, said, “Get the sleep out of your eyes. Something’s gone wrong. One motor has stopped.”

Sue, thoroughly aroused at Jane’s words, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up straight. Miss Comstock hurried down the aisle, shaking the girls into consciousness. Then she returned to the front of the cabin. The two other motors had been throttled down and by speaking in a loud tone, she could be heard by every girl.

“We are about to make a forced landing,” she began and as she saw quick looks of alarm flash over the faces of the girls, hastened to add, “There is no need for undue alarm. I am sure no one will be injured for one of the most experienced pilots on the line is at the controls. Please see that your safety belts are fastened securely. Try to relax your muscles if that is possible.”

The plane heeled sharply as a vicious gust of wind caught it and Jane looked out, hoping that lights of one of the emergency landing fields would be visible. Only a solid mass of black greeted her eyes and she knew that their situation was indeed dangerous. Had Miss Comstock only been talking bravely, attempting to reassure the girls?

Jane looked at her companions. Apprehension was written on the face of each one, but none of them was flinching, a tribute to the fine courage which their nurses’ training instilled. They were accustomed to emergencies, even though this one was more than they had bargained for on their first long flight.

Jane tried to analyze her own feelings, but found that there was a peculiar lack of emotion. There was nothing she could do to ease the situation. She looked at her companion.

Sue smiled back bravely and reached over and took Jane’s hand. It made them feel a little closer.

“How far above ground are we?” asked Sue.

The needle on the altimeter dial was jumping crazily and Jane shook her head. The air speed was down to eighty miles an hour and they seemed to be drifting into the wind.

Miss Comstock started to turn off the top light, but one of the girls asked her to leave it on. It was much easier sitting there with the light on than waiting for the crash in the dark.

Miss Comstock walked down the aisle and Jane marveled at her ability to remain so calm in the emergency. She admired the chief stewardess immensely for her control of her nerves, for Miss Comstock didn’t appear to be more than three or four years older. She was a little shorter than Jane with a tinge of auburn in her hair and she was dressed in the natty smoke-green suit which was to mark the stewardesses of the Federated Airways.

Dozens of thoughts raced through Jane’s mind. She wondered what Miss Hardy would say when she heard about the accident and what her own folks would do.

Then Miss Comstock was beside her, speaking loud enough to be heard by all of the girls.

“We are almost down,” she told them. “Please remain calm.”

Jane wondered what Miss Comstock would do when they struck. There was no safety belt to keep her from being tossed about, for the chief stewardess remained in the aisle.

The landing lights on the wings were trying to bore into the night, but the air was filled with dust and Jane knew that the pilots were feeling their way down blind, hoping for a good landing.

Every girl sensed that the crash was near and Sue leaned her head over on Jane’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She had always looked to Jane for the final decision and now she turned to her for comfort and protection.

The plane lurched heavily and something ripped against the undercarriage. The lights in the cabin went out and Jane felt Miss Comstock pitched into her lap. In a flash she wrapped her arms around the chief stewardess and held her as tightly as possible.

There was the sensation of falling blindly into a great abyss and then came a jarring crash that seemed to split the cabin apart. After that there was a silence, broken only by the sobbing of the wind.

Jane felt the chief stewardess struggling to free herself from her arms.

“Let me go,” gasped Miss Comstock. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Jane released her hold and spoke to Sue.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Except for still being scared half to death.”

Other girls were moving about, unfastening their safety belts and trying to get to their feet.

“The cabin’s on a sharp angle,” Miss Comstock told them. “Take off your belts, get down in the aisle on your hands and knees, and follow me to the rear.”

Jane and Sue obeyed, with Sue directly behind Miss Comstock. Then came Jane with Grace Huston and Alice Blair following and the other girls behind them. No one appeared to be hurt except for minor bruises and bumps.

When they reached the door, which had been torn from its hinges by the impact, Miss Comstock cautioned them again.

“It’s about six feet to the ground. Slide over the edge and hang by your hands until your feet are on the ground. Then each girl wait until the next is down and we’ll form a chain of hands so that no one is lost. Count as you come and we’ll know when everyone is out.”

Jane was the first one out and she cried, “No. 1 out,” in a loud voice. Girl after girl called out their number as they scrambled down out of the wreckage until every one was outside.

Still holding hands, Miss Comstock led them away from the plane as Jane wondered about the pilots. The wreckage was at least fifty yards behind when Miss Comstock paused.

“You girls wait here. I’m going back and find the pilots.”

She started back alone, but Jane slipped out of the group and joined her.

“You can’t go alone,” she said. “If they’re trapped, maybe I can be of some help.”

“Go back, Jane,” ordered the chief stewardess. “There’s the gasoline. Smell it? The wreckage may catch on fire at any moment.”

“That’s just why you need me,” insisted Jane.

Miss Comstock hurried on. Jane was determined and there was no time to waste in argument.

The tri-motor had landed on a hillside, first striking a fringe of trees which had wrecked the undercarriage and then skidding along the hillside until the nose had dug into the ground, flipping the tail into the air at a crazy angle.

The pilots’ cockpit appeared badly smashed, but as Miss Comstock and Jane approached, a man crawled out of the wreckage. It was the co-pilot, badly battered and only half conscious.

“Slim’s in there,” he gasped, pointing back at the smashed cockpit.

Miss Comstock lunged ahead, tearing at the wreckage, hunting for Slim Bollei, the chief pilot. The smell of gasoline was doubly strong and Jane realized their grave danger, but she never wavered in following the chief stewardess.

They found the chief pilot jammed behind the control wheel.

“You take his shoulders while I try to free his feet,” ordered Miss Comstock. Working swiftly, they managed to lift the pilot clear and Jane was thankful that he was slight in stature. It would have been impossible for them to carry a heavy man.

They staggered away from the wreckage just as a tongue of flame leaped along the remains of the right wing.

“Hurry,” gasped Miss Comstock. “We’ve got to get farther away.”

The co-pilot tried to assist them, but he was too weak to help.

“Take care of yourself,” Miss Comstock told him. “We’ll get Slim away.”

The flames spread rapidly and by the time they reached the crest of the hill, the wreckage was an inferno of fire with roaring, twisting flames leaping into the heavens. Jane shuddered and closed her eyes and the other girls huddled close together.

“This is no time for anyone to have hysterics,” said the steel-nerved Miss Comstock. She turned to the co-pilot. “Did you get a message out that we were crashing?” she asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know whether it got through. The static has been terrific for the last hour.”

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere between Wood River and Kearney and a little south of the line. The Platte can’t be far south of us.”

“I don’t care where the Platte is. I want to get to a phone and find a doctor for Slim and report to the line,” snapped Miss Comstock. She turned to Sue and Alice.

“You girls take charge here. Do what you can for these men while Jane and I start out to see if we can find a farmhouse with a telephone.”

Leaving the other girls on the hilltop, Miss Comstock and Jane plunged away into the night. The chief stewardess strode rapidly, and Jane found it difficult to keep up with her,

“Perhaps a farmer will be attracted by the flames,” she gasped as they topped another hill.

“It’s not likely. If the co-pilot was right, we’re in a rather desolate spot just north of the river. We’ll keep going and see what we can locate.”

For half an hour they plodded steadily ahead until they struck a dirt road running at right angles to their own course.

“We’ll turn to the left. At least we’ll be going toward Kearney,” said Miss Comstock.

They trudged a mile down the road before they came to a farmhouse. A dog greeted them with lusty barks and the farmer threw up a window on the second floor.

“What’s going on out there?” he cried.

“We’re stewardesses on the Federated Airways,” Miss Comstock shouted. “Our plane crashed about an hour ago in the hills over toward the Platte. We’ve got to get to a phone so we can call a doctor and inform the line about the accident.”

“Come right in. I’ll be down in a minute.”

A light flashed in the room upstairs and the farmer, dressing hastily, hurried down.

Miss Comstock almost rang the telephone off the wall in trying to arouse the operator on the rural line, but at last got her call through to the field at Kearney and told the night man there what had happened.

The farmer supplied them with directions for the field relief crew and the Kearney men promised to arrive with a doctor within the hour. The farmer’s wife hastened down and insisted on making coffee and sandwiches.

“Was anyone badly injured?” she asked.

“The chief pilot is hurt, but I don’t know how seriously,” replied Miss Comstock.

“But isn’t it dangerous for girls like you to be flying in those airplanes?” asked the farmer’s wife.

“It was tonight,” smiled Miss Comstock, “but as a rule it is as safe as riding in a railroad train and much safer than traveling in an automobile. What do you think about it, Jane?”

“I think it’s thrilling, but the crash tonight will be enough to last me for the rest of my life,” she replied.

“It will probably be the first and last one you’ll ever have. Flying is getting safer every day. You certainly had your baptism under fire the first night out.”

Chapter Eight

Winning Their Wings

The crew from the Kearney field arrived in a large truck and trailing them was an ambulance with a doctor and two nurses. The farmer joined the party and helped guide them to the shivering group on the hilltop north of the Platte.

The wreckage of the tri-motor had long since ceased to glow and the wind whined dismally through a low growth of underbrush. Sue was the first to reach the truck and Miss Comstock fairly leaped after her.

“How’s the pilot and co-pilot?” she asked, anxiety making her voice sound unnatural.

“They’ll come through all right,” said Sue. “I think the pilot has a slight concussion and his right arm is broken. The co-pilot is only suffering from shock and bruises.”

“And the girls?”

“They’re all right. When the fire died down a bit, several of them even tried to get close enough to salvage some of the mail, but the flames leaped up again and forced them back.”

The flyers were carried to the waiting ambulance and that vehicle soon lurched away over the uneven ground.

The crew from the Kearney field had brought powerful electric torches and with these they made a thorough survey of the tri-motor. It was a charred mass of twisted steel tubing, little resembling the proud ship which had bucked the storm a few hours before.

“The company can write about $80,000 off the books,” growled the manager of the Kearney field. “I wonder how it happened?”

“The left wing started to flutter,” said Miss Comstock. “I could tell from the vibration of the ship something was wrong and when I went up into the cockpit Slim Bollei told me we were in a jam. He was afraid the wing was going to tear loose so he cut the left motor. With the wind bad and the wing loosening up more every second we were in the air he had to hunt a place to set down quick.”

“Well, he sure put this crate down for keeps,” grunted the manager. “Guess we might as well start back to the field and I’ll write up a report of the accident.”

The girls piled into the big truck, Jane and Sue sitting at the very end with their feet hanging over.

“What a night,” said Sue as the truck moved away from the scene of the accident. “For a while I was afraid I wasn’t going to live through it.”

“I’m still shaky,” confessed Grace Huston, who was just behind them.

“It wasn’t pleasant,” admitted Jane, “but we’re all lucky to be out alive and with the pilots only slightly injured. However, as Miss Comstock says, this will probably be our first and last crash and it might as well come early.”

When they reached the Kearney field, Miss Comstock got in touch with the operations manager at Cheyenne and informed him that another plane would be needed to take her charges to Cheyenne.

It was daylight when Cheyenne finally came back with flying orders. A special plane was being ordered out of Omaha to take the girls the remainder of the distance.

“We’ll have several hours here,” Miss Comstock informed them, “so I’ve chartered several cabs to take us uptown for breakfast. We’ll go to the hotel, clean up and relax. Lunch will be in Cheyenne.”

They were about to leave the field when a young man hurried up.

“I’m the Associated Press correspondent here,” he explained, “and I’m looking for the stewardess in charge.”

Miss Comstock stepped forward. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

The reporter grinned. “Just tell me all about the accident. I’ve got the pilots’ names from the hospital and a few details, but I’d like to have all of the facts.”

Jane was surprised when Miss Comstock told him everything about the accident.

“Please say that the new girls were especially calm and cool-headed in their first emergency,” she said. “If it had not been for the assistance of one of them I fear the pilot would never have been pulled out of the wreckage before the plane caught fire.”

The reporter insisted on having Jane’s name.

“This will make a great human-interest story,” he exclaimed as he hurried away.

Miss Comstock turned to the girls.

“That’s a little lesson in public relations,” she said. “The policy of the line is to tell the newspaper people the truth. If you try to hide or distort facts, the reporters will learn part of them in some other way and it is much better to have the truth sent out in the first place.”

After breakfast at the hotel, Jane and Sue went into the writing room.

“I’m going to write my parents about everything that happened last night,” said Sue. “Then they won’t worry when they read the newspaper stories.”

Jane agreed that it was a splendid idea and they passed half an hour at their letter writing before Miss Comstock came in to inform them that it was time to return to the field.

As they reached the airport a tri-motor swung in from the east. It swooped low over the field and an arm was flung out of the cockpit in a friendly greeting to the girls who were standing beside the hangar. The tri-motor nosed around into the wind and dropped down to an easy landing.

When it stopped in the hangar, the pilot stuck his head out of the cockpit.

“Hi, there,” he called to Jane and Sue. “I hear you won your wings last night.” It was Charlie Fischer, who had flown them from Chicago to Omaha the night before.

“You mean we had them clipped and singed,” retorted Jane.

Charlie climbed down from the cockpit.

“How’s Slim Bollei?” he asked.

“Just a slight crack on his head,” said Sue. “I hear that they select men with hard heads for pilots.”

“Ouch!” grinned Charlie. “I’m going to wear armor the next time I talk to you.”

“You needn’t. I don’t even bite.”

The pilot turned to Miss Comstock.

“Get your cargo aboard,” he said, “and we’ll take off in about five minutes. They routed me out at Omaha and started me west before I had time to get anything to eat. We’ll start as soon as I can rustle a cup of coffee and a sandwich at the shanty across the road.”

By this time the girls had become fairly well acquainted and already little groups were being formed. Jane was pleased that Alice and Grace had personalities that fitted in so smoothly with her own and Sue’s. There would be much to learn and much to do in the coming weeks and it would be much pleasanter getting accustomed to the new environment if friends were near-by.

The air was cool and sweet. The wind had subsided and there was no trace of the terror it had wrought the night before as the girls took their places and fastened the safety belts around their bodies.

Charlie Fischer, still munching a sandwich, hurried into the hangar, signed the gas and oil record book, climbed into his cockpit and gunned the motors. The big biplane rolled smoothly ahead, turned its nose into the wind, and started climbing skyward. They were off on the last lap of their trip to Cheyenne.

Chapter Nine

At Mrs. Murphy’s

Jane had secretly wondered just how she would feel when the plane soared into the sky. After the experience of the night before she feared that a numbing fright might grip her and she was greatly relieved when there was no feeling of apprehension.

Instead, she thoroughly enjoyed the smooth upward flight, the pulsating power of the great motors, and the panorama unfolding beneath. She turned to look at Sue. Her companion was gripping the arms of her chair tightly, her eyes bright and staring straight ahead. When Jane started to speak to her, she shook her head, but Jane watched Sue closely for the next few minutes.

Gradually Sue relaxed and a little later she leaned over and spoke to Jane.

“I was fighting down a little bugaboo of fear,” she grinned. “I knew if I didn’t conquer it all by myself, I’d never be able to do it. Now I’ll never be afraid to fly anywhere and anytime.”

Jane thought that statement was a little bold, but she hoped it was true.

Keeping to the right of the broad Platte, they sped westward with the speed indicator wavering between 115 and 120 miles an hour for there was only a slight head wind dropping down from the far-away Rockies.

North Platte appeared ahead and Jane consulted the map of their route. North Platte was a regular passenger stop, but they were running as a special, and the plane dropped over the southwestern Nebraska city. Here the Platte forked, one branch swinging northwest while the South Platte continued almost straight west.

The shining steel of the Union Pacific rails caught the sunlight far below and Jane saw the smoky plume of a transcontinental limited threading its way westward. The plane soon overhauled the train and left it far behind. They were too high for any of the girls to wave. The country became rougher, more desolate, and the few farms looked drear and beaten down by the buffeting of the elements.

They passed north of Sidney and not long afterward Jane knew they were in Wyoming.