The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

“By all means,” rejoined Dr. Perkins, deeply interested; “flash them a message of what we intend to do so that they may be prepared.”

Harry sent out the message and the operator flashed back a quick “Thanks,” adding the next moment: “Good-by. I’m going to beat it out on deck and watch you.”

Frank, in the meantime, had done the papers up in a compact bundle and weighted them with an empty beef can.

“All ready?” cried Dr. Perkins.

“All ready, sir,” was the prompt reply from the boys.

“Then hold tight. I’m going to make a swift dive.”

The liner was now almost directly underneath the soaring Sea Eagle. Her rails were black with passengers craning their necks upward at the great, man-made bird. From her funnels poured clouds of inky smoke, while her sharp prow cut the water on each side of her bow into sparkling foam. On the bridge were uniformed officers, pointing binoculars and spy glasses aloft, for the operator had communicated the news of what the Sea Eagle was about to do.

Suddenly the watching throngs of ocean travelers saw the Sea Eagle poise in air like a hawk about to pounce. Then down she came, cleaving the air like a falling stone.

A great cry went up from the packed decks. It seemed as if the air craft must perish, that nothing could check her fall, and that she was doomed to plunge headlong into the sea. But in a flash the cry changed to a mighty cheer.

Less than forty feet from the water the Sea Eagle was seen to shoot upward and straight toward the steamer. Like an arrow from a bow the great aërial craft shot whizzing above the liner’s bridge, and under the wireless aërials extending from mast to mast. Just as she roared by above the officers’ heads, like some antedeluvian thunder-lizard, something was seen to fall downward and land on the top of the charthouse. It was the bundle of papers thrown by Harry. A sailor scrambled up and got them, while the crowded decks yelled themselves hoarse.

Then the Sea Eagle soared up high above the mast tips, and Harry seated himself at the wireless once more. Presently to his ears came a message from the speeding liner far below.

“Captain Seabury wishes to congratulate you on the most wonderful feat of the century.”

CHAPTER XVII. – AN AËRIAL AMBULANCE

Harry was about to flash back an answer to the message of congratulation when, suddenly, into the scene of triumph was injected a grim note of threatened tragedy. One of the passengers, a young woman who had been leaning far out over the rail of the boat deck waving a handkerchief of filmy lace and linen, was seen, all at once, to topple from her perch.

The next instant, and while her shrill scream for help still rent the air, a young man who had been standing beside her jumped out into space without waiting to do more than strip off coat and shoes. The Ultonia was speeding ahead at the fastest gait her twin screws were capable of. She was a large vessel, probably some 15,000 tons of registration, and her momentum was too great to stop her for a considerable distance.

From the Sea Eagle horrified eyes saw the accident, and witnessed the young woman’s head bob up for an instant amid the frothy wake of the big craft. The liner’s whistle screamed out a shrill alarm, and men could be seen scampering to lower a boat, while life buoys were thrown overboard.

But before anything more could be done the Sea Eagle took a sudden swoop, a swift dive downward, characteristic of the bird for which she had been named.

The wonderful craft struck the water with a force that sent a cloud of spray boiling up about her, temporarily hiding her substructure and her occupants from view.

“She’s sunk!” went up a moaning cry from the decks of the liner. But, no! An instant later it was seen that the Sea Eagle, an aëroplane no longer but a winged boat, was speeding as fast as her twin propellers could drive her toward the spot where the young woman had last been seen.

Hardly a word, except Dr. Perkins’ caution to “hang on tight,” had been exchanged between the aviators from their simultaneous observation of the accident till the moment the Sea Eagle struck the water. But now orders came quick and fast.

“Attend to the engines!”

The order came from Frank, and Harry sprang into the place his brother vacated.

Frank hastily buckled on one of the life jackets and then, as the Sea Eagle skimmed the water at a twenty-five knot gait, he scanned the seething lane of foam behind the liner. Suddenly he saw what he was looking for. A white, imploring face, crowned with a wealth of golden hair.

“Save me!” screamed the girl who, although she had been swimming, was by this time too exhausted with the effects of her immersion and the weight of her water-soaked clothes, to keep up any longer. Without an instant’s hesitation, Frank leaped into the water and began striking out with powerful strokes for the sinking girl. He reached her side just as she was going down for the third time.

In the meantime the young man who had sprung after her had also become exhausted, and would certainly have sunk had not Dr. Perkins headed the Sea Eagle in his direction. Leaning far out as they came alongside the struggling man, Harry grasped him by the collar, and then half dragged him into the hydroplane portion of the air craft. This done, full speed was made for Frank and the young woman.

None too soon did they reach Frank’s side. With the blind instinct of a drowning person the young woman was clinging so tightly to Frank that, strong swimmer though he was, he had much difficulty in keeping above the water. Dr. Perkins ordered the motor stopped as they neared the two, and allowed the Sea Eagle to glide up to them. Then both he and Harry bent all their strength to hauling on board, first the young woman and then Frank.

By this time the liner’s speed had been checked, and her officers were swinging her in a broad circle to the scene of the accident. A boat had been lowered and was heading for the Sea Eagle, but Dr. Perkins, snatching up the megaphone, hailed the oarsman and told them that everything was all right.

This done, power was applied once more, and the Sea Eagle headed for the liner’s side. As if guessing his intention a gangway had been lowered, and all was ready for their reception as they came alongside. In the meantime the young man had introduced the golden-haired young woman as his bride, and himself as Stanley Travers, of Portland, Me. To say that both he and Mrs. Travers were grateful would be not to state one half of their actual feelings.

In fact, their expressions of appreciation took so long that one of the officers at the head of the gangway shouted:

“This is a mail boat and we must hurry, please.”

While this was going on congratulations on the plucky act had been shouted down from the uniformed skipper on the bridge and from a score of the passengers that banked the rails three and four deep.

At last Mr. and Mrs. Travers, wet to the skin, clambered up the liner’s tall, black side, and the boat was hauled up on the davits. As the big craft, dipping her ensign and blowing her siren, heaved ahead, a shout of enthusiasm went up. But it was drowned by the roar of the Sea Eagle’s motor. Hardly had the propellers of the vessel begun to churn the water once more before Dr. Perkins’ craft rose from the water like a white-winged sea gull after a refreshing dip. As the gallant sea-and-air ship rose, her three occupants waved their hands in farewell in rejoinder to the babel of shouts beneath them.

“Well, at any rate, if the Sea Eagle never does anything more,” remarked Dr. Perkins, “she has accomplished a great deal.”

“I should think so,” exclaimed Frank, who had slipped into dry clothes as soon as the SeaEagle took the air once more; “it isn’t every craft that finds her baptism in life-saving at sea.”

As long as they could see the Ultonia the big liner continued to blow her whistle, and doubtless the eyes of all her passengers remained fixed attentively on the wonderful sky ship as she waxed smaller and smaller against the blue. That afternoon the voyagers found themselves off Cape Ann. High above the cape they flew, cutting off a good chunk of distance in this way. The folks in West Gloucester stared in wonderment as the huge air ship soared by high above the town, and when a short time later the aviators passed above the white-winged fishing fleet, every tin pan and fog horn in the flotilla of small craft sounded an enthusiastic “God speed” to the air travelers.

Far behind the main body of the fisher craft lagged a small sloop, and as the Sea Eagle came closer to her the boys noticed that her flag was flying from the peak “union down,” a sign of distress the world over. The big hydro-aëroplane was flying low at the time, and it was easy to see, without the aid of glasses, that several men were running about the sloop’s decks and shouting something up at the air voyagers.

“Shall we go down and see what the trouble is?” asked Frank, as he and Harry saw the signs of distress.

“Yes,” decided the doctor, “no craft, either of the air or of the sea, can disregard such a signal of disaster. It will be odd if, for the second time on the very first day of our cruise, we are able to render aid to somebody who needs it badly.”

The boys thought so, too, and as they dropped seaward the minds of all three occupants of the Sea Eagle were busy with speculations concerning what could be the cause of the sloop’s distress. Dr. Perkins caused his craft to alight gently on the sea a short distance from the sloop, and then headed her over the waves toward the distressed vessel. As they drew closer they could see a grizzled-looking fellow, in rough fisher’s garb, leaning over the side.

“Come quick!” he shouted, “there’s been bad work going on aboard!”

CHAPTER XVIII. – AN ERRAND OF MERCY

“What’s up?” cried Frank.

“Yes, what’s the trouble?” came from Dr. Perkins.

“Trouble enough. We sprang a leak two days ago, out on the fishing banks, and have been at the pumps ever since. Now we’ve got the leak stopped, but my mate, Joe Higgins, was struck on the head by the boom and is so mortal bad that if we don’t get a doctor for him pretty quick I’m afraid he’ll die. Then, too, our provisions is run out.”

While the man was reciting this catalogue of mishaps the Sea Eagle was run alongside, and Dr. Perkins made her fast with a line the man flung to him.

“First let’s have a look at the injured man,” he said and, without further delay, Captain Zebedee Crooks, as he informed the travelers his name was, led them aft to a tiny cabin, stuffy, dark and reeking of fish. The boys followed Dr. Perkins into this wretched little den and Captain Zebedee lighted a sea lantern.

Its rays showed them a heavily built man of middle age lying on a locker. His head was bandaged, and although he breathed he showed no other signs of life. Dr. Perkins, with the skill of a professional man, made a hasty examination.

“This man is badly hurt,” he said at length. “I am afraid his skull is fractured, but of that I cannot be certain. He should be ashore in a hospital.”

“Aye! I know that,” rejoined Captain Zebedee, “but at the rate we are going now we won’t get ashore till to-morrow night, and by that time poor Joe may be dead.”

“I think it extremely likely,” replied Dr. Perkins, “but we must get him ashore at once.”