Jane, Stewardess of the Air Lines

She picked up the tea tray and started for the commissary.

“If you could go with me, I might attempt to continue the journey,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “I can’t bear the thought of going on alone.”

“But I am going with you,” replied Jane. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“No. Those pilots only flew faster and faster and I got sicker and sicker.”

“We’ll let them fly as fast as they want to,” smiled Jane, “just as long as they have smooth weather. There’s a delicious lunch, late papers and some magazines aboard the plane now. We’ll return to the hangar, make ourselves comfortable in the plane, and tell them to go ahead. We’ll be almost ten minutes late leaving here.”

“I’ll go on,” agreed the woman of millions, “but only because you are going with me.”

Without showing too much haste, Jane shepherded her passenger into the tri-motor. Charlie Fischer, still looking at his watch, gave her a black look as he climbed into the cockpit.

Jane made Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable in chair No. 6, and then stepped back to the door where Miss Comstock was peering in. “Everything all right?” asked the chief stewardess.

“She’s perfectly calm now,” replied Jane. “I’m sure we’ll make Chicago all right.”

“The general manager is fairly burning up the radio trying to find out about the delay here.”

“You can tell him that it took us the extra time to persuade Mrs. Van Verity Vanness to continue the trip,” said Jane.

“Good-bye and good luck,” said Miss Comstock as she closed the door. Jane made sure that the door was latched securely, stowed the hamper of food away in the pantry, and then hastened up to take a seat beside her passenger.

The motors roared and the plane quivered to the pulse of their power. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness paled as the plane rolled forward, but Jane took the hands of the elderly woman and held them in her own. Almost before they knew it the plane was in the air, streaking away into the east in the race to make up the lost time.

Chapter Twelve

Alarming News

The lights of Cheyenne faded rapidly as Charlie Fischer gunned the big transport hard. Jane, watching the air speed indicator, saw it climb from 110 to 130. It hovered there for several minutes and then started climbing again. In less than fifteen minutes they were up 7,000 feet and with a good tail wind boomed along at better than 150 miles an hour.

Jane looked at her elderly companion. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had her eyes closed tightly and Jane spoke to her reassuringly.

“It’s a long ride to Chicago,” she said. “Suppose we look through some magazines. Then we’ll have a cup of bouillon and sandwiches just before midnight and after that I’ll tuck you in for the night.”

“Tuck me in for the night?” asked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “Why, I’ll never be able to sleep.”

“I think you will. You can unfasten your safety belt now and I’ll see what I can find in the way of magazines.”

Jane returned a minute later with half a dozen copies of the latest magazines. She adjusted the reading light for her companion and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, seeing Jane so calm and casual, forced herself to overcome the fear of flying which had sickened her. She selected a magazine from the armful Jane offered and settled herself comfortably in her seat.

“I’m really commencing to enjoy it,” she smiled, “but there’s a bit of a draft around my feet.”

Jane hurried back to the compartment where a supply of warm, woolly blankets were kept. Selecting a pretty grey and pink one she wrapped it around the elderly woman’s legs. With Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable and apparently satisfied for some time, Jane opened the Cheyenne paper.

She halfway expected to find a front page story on the dash across country of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness in a special plane for almost any activity of this multi-millionaire widow was worth a half column of space. Instead, Jane read the alarming news that a mail plane had been robbed early that morning by aerial bandits. The ship, a Bertold single engined plane, had been shot down in southeastern Iowa on the Kansas City to Chicago run and more than a hundred thousand in currency taken from the registered mail pouch which it carried. The pilot had been seriously wounded by the two bandits, who had used a machine gun to force the mail ship down.

Jane resolved right then and there to keep all of the papers away from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. If aerial bandits were operating, it was entirely within the realm of possibility for them to attack a special chartered by a woman as wealthy as her companion.

The tri-motor hurled through the night, the speed increasing as Charlie Fischer pushed it up another thousand feet to benefit by an even stronger tail wind at that altitude. They roared along at between 165 and 170 miles an hour, nearly 50 miles above the usual cruising speed of a plane of that type.

Below them winked the revolving beacons which lighted the transcontinental airway at night. Occasionally they sighted the dim gleams from some prairie town.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness let the magazine drop into her lap as she closed her eyes, now thoroughly relaxed and without fear of anything happening to the plane. It was 11:30 and Jane leaned over and spoke to her companion.

“I’ll bring the bouillon and sandwiches right away. Then you can go to sleep.”

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness nodded contentedly and Jane went back to her pantry.

The bouillon, golden brown, smelled delicious as it gurgled out of the thermos jug and the sandwiches were almost paper thin with a tasty filling of olives and salad dressing.

Jane put the lunch on a silver tray and carried it into the cabin where she placed it on a small portable table which she had put between the seats.

“Several hours ago I thought I’d never be able to eat again,” smiled the woman of millions, “but this actually appeals to me.”

Jane agreed, for Miss Comstock had personally prepared the lunch and it should be delicious. The bouillon was expertly flavored and the sandwiches were the kind that made even the daintiest eaters hunger for more.

When the last sandwich had disappeared and the second cup of bouillon was only a memory, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness leaned back in her chair and smiled happily.

“You’re a wonder,” she told Jane. “I think I’ll ask the company to send you clear through to New York with me.”

“Our division only goes to Chicago,” replied Jane, “but I’d be delighted to go on if the general manager approves.”

“I think he’ll approve if I ask it. After all, I’m paying almost enough for this trip to buy one of their planes.”

Jane removed the luncheon dishes, brought another blanket, adjusted the seat at a reclining angle and tucked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness away for the night.

“We’ll land at North Platte, Omaha, and Iowa City,” she said, “but there’ll be no need for you to disturb yourself. I’ll inquire for messages at each stop and waken you if there is any news.”

In less than five minutes Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sleeping soundly and Jane went back to her pantry to stow away the dishes she had used for their midnight lunch.

The flasher which signaled that the chief pilot wanted to talk to her came on and Jane walked ahead, careful not to disturb her passenger. The stewardess made her way past the baggage compartment and stuck her head in the pilots’ cockpit.

Charlie Fischer looked down at her.

“How’s our famous passenger?” he asked.

“Sound asleep,” replied Jane, “and she’ll stay that way until morning if you’ll use a little care in landing and taking off.”

“I’ll drop this crate down like we were carrying eggs,” promised Charlie, “but don’t you let her out of the plane. Next time we may never be able to get her back on board.”

Jane returned to the cabin where the only light was the one over her seat at the rear. Her passenger was sleeping soundly and Jane sat down and relaxed.

The last two hours, from the time she had received the call to rush to the field, had been filled with a nervous tension. Handling Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had required real tact and patience and Jane had been so busy she hadn’t had time to remember that this was her first trip as stewardess. Up until now she had rather looked upon herself as a trained nurse called in to care for a nervous, irritable woman.

At better than 8,000 feet the air was chilly even in the summer and Jane got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn’t dare sleep for fear Mrs. Van Verity Vanness would waken and call her.

Jane had hardly settled down to rest when the lights of North Platte appeared far ahead and the throbbing of the motors eased off. Charlie Fischer set the plane down without a bounce and they rolled into the hangar.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness roused slightly and Jane told her they were in North Platte. The stop there took just a little better than four minutes and Jane learned that there were no messages for her passenger. Then they were booming east again with the next stop at Omaha.

Jane settled down in her chair, wondering if her passenger had been serious when she mentioned taking her on to New York. What a lark that would be and how the other girls would talk. Jane could just imagine Mattie Clark turning almost green with envy.

The pilot found the favoring wind again and they sped from North Platte to Omaha in record time for the big tri-motor. At the Omaha field reporters were waiting for the plane and Jane was forced to go to the waiting room and answer their questions, for Mrs. Van Verity Vanness refused to see them,

For five minutes she fended off the questions of the newspapermen, answering those she was free to.

“Better look out for the aerial bandits,” they warned her. “Think of the ransom they could demand if they captured your passenger?”

“Haven’t they been captured?” asked Jane.

“No. They vanished after bringing down the mail plane in southeastern Iowa. The last report said that they had been heading west. Of course, that was early yesterday. They’ve landed at some out of the way field.”

Jane thanked the reporter and turned back to the tri-motor, glad to get away from her questioners lest she show them how much she was disturbed. With the newspapers now broadcasting the cross-country dash of the wealthy Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, Jane knew that the special was not safe with the aerial bandits still at large.

Chapter Thirteen

The Black Plane

Just before the tri-motor wheeled off the ramp at Omaha, the radio operator at the field hurried up with a message. It was from New York, informing Mrs. Van Verity Vanness that her son was slightly improved and was looking forward to her arrival at his bedside.

The little woman of the many millions looked at Jane through tear-dimmed eyes.

“He’s my only son,” she said. “He means so very much to me.”

Jane nodded. She could understand, for in her years of training at Good Samaritan she had seen mother love put to many a severe and heart-breaking test and she knew how deep in a human soul it penetrated.

Reassured that her son was not losing ground, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness dozed again as the plane raced over western Iowa.

Jane went ahead to the pilots’ cockpit and leaned close to Charlie Fischer.

“The airplane bandits are still at large,” she told him.

“I know it,” he said. “We got a special warning at Omaha. A strange ship was sighted over the Des Moines field half an hour ago and it answered the description of the bandit craft. Two army planes that were making an overnight stop at Fort Des Moines have gone up to see if they can trace it.”

“Keep a close watch. I’ve got nearly a billion-dollar piece of humanity in the cabin.”

“Orders are to land if we run into trouble.”

“But that would mean the capture and holding of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness for ransom,” protested Jane.

“That’s better than having us all shot down,” snapped Charlie. “You just mind things in the cabin and I’ll run this end of the ship.”

“Well,” said Jane with finality. “If I were a pilot and a bandit plane attacked me, I’d give them a real race before I landed.”

Charlie started to reply but the co-pilot grabbed his arm and pointed over to the right. The lights of a plane, coming rapidly toward them, were plainly visible.

Charlie looked at them for a second and then snapped off the wing lights of his own plane. “Get back into the cabin and turn off the lights there,” he roared at Jane. “Here comes trouble.”

“How do you know?” asked Jane.

“There’s no other ship but our own on this division tonight and those lights coming toward us aren’t the riding lights on a night hawk.”

Jane departed on the run, and snapped off the light in the cabin. It would be dawn in another half hour, but for the coming thirty minutes the tri-motor, running without lights, had a chance of escaping the other plane.

The motors labored under a full charge of gas as the big ship rocketed along at 170 miles an hour. Once or twice the needle on the speed dial mounted above the 170 mark, but Charlie couldn’t hold it there.

Jane watched the lights of the other plane. They didn’t appear to be any nearer. Perhaps the bandits, after spotting their quarry, would be content to wait until dawn and then make a quick thrust.

The stewardess wondered if the pursuing plane was radio equipped for even as she left the pilots’ cockpit, the co-pilot had been pouring out a warning of their danger.

It was nerve-racking business as Charlie Fischer piloted the tri-motor with all of the skill of his big hands. In and out of clouds they dodged, now at 8,000 feet, and again at 6,000, but always the relentless pursuit was with them. The sky lightened and Jane knew that the crisis was near. She wanted to go ahead and talk with Charlie and the co-pilot, but she didn’t dare leave her passenger.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness yawned and threw off the blanket which had shielded her shoulders. She sat up and looked out into the gray light. Jane answered her summons.

“We’re having company,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, pointing toward the other ship, a black biplane, which had drawn near.

Jane didn’t dare tell her the truth about the other plane.

“Just some pilot up early,” she said lightly, but her heart was far from feeling that way.

Their own plane dove sharply, and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gasped and clutched the arms of her seat.

“The morning air is a bit rough at times,” explained Jane reassuringly, but she knew all of the time that the quick dive had been a maneuver of Charlie’s to give them more time. She wondered about the army planes which had taken off from Des Moines. If their radio was working, they should arrive soon.

“The pilot of that plane’s acting queerly,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “He seems to be waving at us.”

The light was better and Jane looked at the black biplane. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was right. They were being waved down and Jane’s heart went sick as she saw the snout of a machine gun sticking over the nose of the other craft. If Charlie refused to comply with the order, it was plain they would be the target for machine-gun bullets.

Jane looked at the altimeter with sinking heart. They were down to 7,000 feet and dropping lower steadily. She scanned the country below for some sign of a city. There were plenty of small towns within range, but no large ones where an adequate police force could be assembled to aid them.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness did not appear alarmed. Charlie stalled at 5,000 feet and Jane saw the pilot of the other plane wave at them angrily.

It was agonizing, for Jane knew that once they were on the ground there would be no chance of escape. Her passenger would be whisked away in the black plane, to be held for a fabulous ransom and a desperately ill man in New York would be without the sympathy of his mother at his bedside to help him through his illness.

They were down to 3,000 feet and Charlie Fischer was hunting a good place to set down when death roared down out of the sky.

Two army planes, their machine guns spitting flame, hurled themselves at the black biplane.

Motors roaring wide open, pilots tense at the triggers, the avenging army craft arrived just as Charlie nosed the tri-motor down for a landing.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness watched the scene with startled eyes and Jane’s heart pounded doubly fast.

The bandit plane was trapped between the army ships. Bullets ripped through the wings of the black craft as the pilot tried desperately to maneuver into position where the gunner in his forward cockpit could get his weapon into action.

“What does it mean?” gasped Jane’s passenger.

“It’s a bandit plane that shot down a mail ship early yesterday in southeastern Iowa,” explained the stewardess.

“But why was it following us? This plane had no mail.”

“It had you, which was vastly more important.”

“Ransom?”

Jane nodded.

“How long have you known we were in danger?”

“Ever since we caught sight of the black plane. We had a description of it at Omaha and were warned by radio to be on the lookout.”

“But you didn’t say a word to me.”

“There was no need to alarm you.”

The army planes were closing in on their quarry, darting in and out as the pilots directed blasts of fire at the bandit craft. The aerial desperadoes knew that they could hope for no quarter and they made one final attempt to escape, heading their plane in a mad dive toward one of the army ships.

But the dive laid them open to the fire of the second army flyer, and he plunged down from above, his machine gun spitting flame. Bullets traced through the wing of the black biplane, shattering the propeller. Then the left wing of the biplane tore loose and the ship fluttered aimlessly for a moment before nosing down for the final plunge.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness cried out in horror and Jane placed her hands over the older woman’s eyes. Finally the passenger turned from the window and looked at Jane.

“You’re a brave, sweet girl,” she said. “Now I think I’ll rest again.”

Neither one mentioned the aerial duel they had witnessed as the special roared on to the pace of its quickened motors.

Jane prepared breakfast and while her passenger sipped the hot chocolate, the stewardess went up to the pilots’ cockpit.

“Some dog fight,” said Charlie Fischer. “Those army boys showed up just in time.”

“I suppose I should say it was terrible,” said Jane, “but knowing what those bandits would have done to my passenger, I feel they got just what was coming to them.”

“They had time to repent all of their sins on the way down,” admitted Charlie. “Say, we’re skipping Des Moines. Got plenty of fuel to take us to Iowa City.”

When they landed in the eastern Iowa city, another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she read most of the way into Chicago.

When they rolled up to the ramp of the Chicago field, Jane suggested that her passenger step out and walk a bit.

“You’ll feel much better,” she assured her.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness agreed and Jane assisted her out of the plane. Reporters were clamoring at the gate, but a cordon of police kept them from the field.

Charlie Fischer grinned as he went by.

“I’m going over and be a hero,” he chuckled, nodding toward the cameramen and reporters, who were hungry for the story of the escape from the bandits.

The short, stocky figure of Hubert Speidel, personnel director of Federated Airways, emerged from the crowd and came toward them. He beckoned to Jane and she left her passenger for a moment.

“Everything all right?” asked the personnel chief anxiously.

“She seems to be enjoying the trip now,” replied Jane, “but she wants a stewardess to continue with her.”

Just then Mrs. Van Verity Vanness took matters into her own hands.

“I presume you are a company official,” she said, addressing the director. He nodded.

“Please inform your general manager that I insist upon this young woman accompanying me to New York. She has done everything possible to make me comfortable and without her assistance I would have been unable to continue from Cheyenne.”

“But Miss Cameron’s division ends here,” protested the personnel chief. “We’ll have to put another stewardess aboard here.”

“I don’t care a snap about divisions,” said the woman of millions. “I want this stewardess. Remember, there are other lines east of Chicago.”

The personnel director promised to do what he could and hastened away. He was back in less than five minutes.

“It’s a little irregular,” he said, “but Miss Cameron can go through to New York with with you.”

Fresh supplies were brought out and placed in the pantry, Jane checking each item, for they would have lunch at noon aboard the plane and possibly a light supper just before they reached New York.

A new crew of flyers took charge and exactly fifteen minutes after landing, the special roared away, with an entire nation watching its progress, for newspaper presses were spewing out extras by the thousands, telling the story of the attempt to abduct Jane’s passenger.

Chapter Fourteen

Page One News

The day was clear and warm, a beautiful June-time, and the special was soon speeding over the flat country of northern Indiana. There was only one stop scheduled between Chicago and New York, that at Cleveland, where the tanks would be filled with fuel.

Jane prepared an appetizing lunch and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness ate it with evident relish as they skirted the south shore of Lake Erie. That over, she insisted that Jane explain how she had happened to join the air line.

The elderly woman was a good listener and Jane told in detail of her last day at Good Samaritan and how Miss Hardy had recommended her for the position with the Federated Airways.

“I’d never heard of stewardesses on the planes until you came aboard at Cheyenne,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “Have you been flying long?”

Jane smiled for her passenger was going to be in for a surprise.

“This is my first regular trip,” she confessed. “All of the girls go into service tomorrow.”

“Then I predict a fine future for you. Why, I thought you were a veteran of hundreds of miles of flying.”

It was a sincere compliment and Jane glowed inwardly. She had been so anxious to make a good impression on her first flight.

At Cleveland another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and again she was shielded from reporters. No one was allowed out on the ramp, but cameras clicked as Jane stepped out of the cabin for a breath of air. Then they were racing eastward again, with the next stop the Newark airport.

They flew high over the rugged Alleghenies and then dropped down over Jersey toward the metropolis. The end of the long flight was near and Jane felt greatly relieved.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness summoned her as they swung over the Newark airport.

“Wouldn’t you like to join me, traveling as my nurse and companion?” she asked.

It was a question that left Jane speechless. She had never considered such a possibility.

“As soon as my son is well, I plan to leave on a round-the-world trip. We would be gone a year.”

It was a tempting offer, almost irresistible, but the zest of flying was deep in Jane and she shook her head.

“I don’t believe I would be happy leaving the air line now,” she said. “There seems to be a real future for girls in aviation and I want to make the most of my opportunity.”

The other woman sighed. “I was afraid that would be your answer and you are probably right. But I’ve grown dreadfully fond of you. If there is anything I can do at any time, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Thank you,” said Jane.

The plane rolled to a stop in the Newark hangar of the Federated line and a huge limousine with two motorcycle officers flanking it, drew up to the cabin door.

“Goodbye, my dear,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness as she stepped into the limousine to be whirled away toward New York to the tune of screaming sirens.

Jane was a little breathless. It had been such an exciting trip all the way from Cheyenne. Now she wondered just when she would start back. An official hurried toward her.

“Reporters are almost tearing the waiting room to pieces,” he said. “They couldn’t see Mrs. Van Verity Vanness but they insist on talking with you. You’d better tell them what happened this morning.”