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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7139474 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68552 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68552) diff --git a/old/68552-0.txt b/old/68552-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ad62437..0000000 --- a/old/68552-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1412 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The flying chance, by Gordon McCreagh - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The flying chance - -Author: Gordon McCreagh - -Release Date: July 18, 2022 [eBook #68552] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CHANCE *** - - - - - - The Flying Chance - - By Gordon McCreagh - - - - - I. - - -The commandant of the Philadelphia navy-yard looked up from the -sheaf of papers which bore the superscription of the Bureau of Naval -Affairs, Washington, at the young man who stood at attention before -his desk. - -“I’m sorry, Mr. Rankin,” he said simply. - -The brown, alert face showed no surprise. Ensign Rankin belonged to -those men who cannot afford to be easily shaken from their balance, -but his passionate argument was already on his lips. - -“But why?” he cried. “Why? I passed in everything else. My sense of -balance was perfect. My nerve reactions were A No. 1. My blood -pressure, hearing, everything! Only those paltry two points I fell -short in.” - -Official dignity relaxed just a trifle before the bitterness of the -young man’s disappointment. - -“I’m sorry,” the commandant said again. “But this flying business is -dangerous enough as it is without our adding to it by overlooking -the slightest imperfection in the human machine. The service -requires a full twenty in eyesight, and your test measures up only -eighteen. Therefore you have been judged ‘unfit for aviation.’” - -The hundred and sixty pounds of hard, lean athlete stiffened yet -further with the fighting spirit. - -“Then, with your permission, sir, I shall appeal for a waiver. -Because I’ve flown all kinds of machines long before I ever got this -commission.” - -The commandant’s eyes were steely. - -“It will do you no good to appeal to Washington for a waiver, Mr. -Rankin. There have been a few cases, I admit--a very few, like -Williams and Steffanson--but only after the men concerned have proved -themselves to be expert beyond all question in spite of their -physical shortcomings. - -“These orders are final. You have already been transferred to line -duty, and you will report to Lieutenant-Commander Evans for further -instructions.” - -Even the rawest and scrappiest ensign could make no mistake about -that tone. Rankin sensed vaguely that the authority of the whole -United States stood behind that incisive, unruffled voice. - -He went, and reported. - -“Ha, Rankin,” Lieutenant-Commander Evans greeted him. “I’ve already -received orders about you. I’m sure we shall be pleased to have you -with us. If you will call for me at the mess some time this -afternoon I’ll take you on board and introduce you in the -ward-room.” - -Rankin murmured a conventional thanks. But he meant not a word of -it. His mind was full of the injustice of his case. He was not -interested in line duties; he had come into the service for -aviation. - -“I guess there’s nothing you can do till then,” Evans continued. -“Only don’t get lost. Stick around the yard somewhere; because we’re -under orders to hold ourselves in readiness to put out at a moment’s -notice, and all leave has been cut short.” - -“Very well, sir.” - -“All right. See you around three o’clock then.” - -Rankin’s was a war commission. That is to say, his rating in the -naval militia had been accepted at its face value by the navy. He -was therefore a full-blown ensign, just the same as any Annapolis -graduate, much to the indignation of those same graduates, who had -spent many toilsome years in qualifying for the same rank. - -Militia commissions were always looked upon with disfavor by the -Annapolis men. Rankin, for instance, had put in just two months with -the naval militia of his State, and had been elected to a commission -by his fellows on account of his happy popularity and his superior -experience in flying. - -The sacred traditions of the service, therefore, meant nothing to -him. Stern discipline and unquestioning obedience were vague -unpleasantnesses, half understood, and in theory only. To “stick -around the yard,” then, for the rest of the day with nothing to do -didn’t have any sense in it; furthermore, there was a girl who lived -in West Philadelphia--and there was loads of time before three -o’clock. - - - - - II. - - -Within the hour Rankin was ringing that familiar bell on the other -side of the river. The girl kept him waiting, to stride nervously up -and down the veranda. A wry grin twisted his firm, straight lips. -She hadn’t forgotten that little difference, then, and her -ultimatum. - -When she finally came out, after fully five minutes’ delay, Rankin -knew at once from the hard, set look about her usually dimpled -mouth, and the steadiness of her gray eyes, that she had been -schooling her determination, and that she still considered the -barrier to exist. He knew well enough what it was, too, and his -first rueful words were meant to remove it. - -“Well, Eileen, I’m out of it at last.” - -“Out of what?” There was a half hope and a hint of willing surrender -in her eager question. - -“Out of aviation--for keeps.” - -“Oh, Jack! Did you really? I--I never thought--” The joyous -exclamation stammered down to a more diffident, almost apologetic -statement with a rising color. “I never really thought you’d ever -give up so much, just for me.” - -Now there was a whole lot of plain human in Jack Rankin. He didn’t -ordinarily lie without necessity; but here was a sudden, -irresistible temptation positively thrust at him to steal at least a -little credit out of a situation which held nothing but the -bitterest disappointment for him. His hesitation was just for a -fraction of a second, and then he prevaricated by inference. - -Nor was he overskilful about it. He was just wise enough to hold his -peace and to squeeze her outstretched hand with a world of meaning. -Her surrender was instant and complete. With radiant eyes in which -there was just a hint of tears, she led him to the comfortable -hammock, plethoric with pillows, which swung in the veranda breeze. - -“I know it’s an awfully big thing to have asked you, Jack,” she -comforted him with the half regretful confidence of a big-hearted -girl who has just forced a sacrifice from her lover. “But you -understand now how I felt about it, don’t you, dear? I just couldn’t -marry you as long as you stayed in that horrible business. - -“I could never sleep without seeing that awful grand stand and that -field where poor Bob-- Oh, I can’t bear to think about it. And with -Jim sticking to it yet; he’s so obstinate. One in the family is bad -enough. I just couldn’t bear it, Jack.” - -Rankin just patted the round curve of her shoulder and still said -nothing. Bob was one of the many who had paid the toll to the -greatest of all games; Jim was the other brother. Rankin understood -how the girl felt, and the scrupulous conscience which besets every -decent young man when he is in love smote him. - -Almost he confessed. But when a beautiful, tearful girl jumps to a -conclusion and makes a self-sacrificing hero out of one, how shall a -man who is ordinarily human disillusion her? Jack Rankin stifled the -still, small voice and postponed the telling to a vague, more -propitious future. Sufficient to the day the evil thereof. He would -have trouble enough explaining his absence from the navy-yard, -should his commanding officer by any chance look for him before his -return. In the mean while, there were matters of infinitely greater -importance. - -Given a beautiful girl, a hammock, and the impending prospect of an -indefinite separation, three o’clock in the afternoon arrives all -too soon. When Ensign Rankin came to the officers’ mess, hurrying to -make up for lost time, and trying to carry off an air of innocence -as if he had been looking for his chief for quite a while, a couple -of juniors looked furtively at him. - -His guilty conscience was quick to catch the glance, and he knew -that his nemesis had overtaken him. But of the full virulence of its -malice he had no inkling as yet. - -“Seen anything of my skipper?” he asked with an assumption of ease. - -“No,” said one of them shortly. - -“Not for hours and hours,” added the other with equally ominous -brevity. - -“Hours and hours?” - -“Yes. He was looking for you. Making knots all round the yard.” - -“Why so anxious?” - -“Commandant’s looking for you now.” Rankin hid his anxiety by -threatening to slay the last speaker. - -“But why? Why? Let me in on the mystery, won’t you?” - -“Leggo, you deserting ruffian! Why? _Because your ship put out from -her berth under telegraphic orders at just about five bells this -afternoon._ That’s why. Now you’d better go hide till you can think -up a good excuse.” - -Smash! The bomb had fallen! No wonder the whole navy-yard had been -looking for him. Missing ship was a serious enough thing in itself; -and when it had happened in the face of direct orders it became a -matter for the outraged attention of the commandant himself, with -prospects of Court martial looming dark in the immediate background. - -Even Rankin sensed that he had offended beyond his realization. With -the instinct of quick thinking which is so essential to the man who -takes his life up into the shifting air currents, his mind flashed -to the wireless plant. Perhaps he would be able to communicate with -his commanding officer and rejoin at the first port of call. He made -the radio station in just two jumps. The operator saluted him quite -hastily. - -“Yes, sir. Crowded with official business just now, sir; but I’ll be -able to put your message through in about fifteen minutes. Where can -I send the answer, sir? I guess I’ll have no trouble pickin’ up your -ship.” - -“His ship” again. The words jarred with an indefinable sensation. It -conveyed an impression of irrevocable divorce from his -ambition--aviation. Everybody seemed to regard him already as a part -of the line organization. And, what was more, there was a distinct -air of congratulation about it; as though it let him into an -honorable and super-select fraternity. - -He murmured an abstract instruction to send the reply to the -quarters of Junior Lieutenant Mason, and went there to wait for it, -dodging furtively behind the various yard buildings to avoid a -possible message from the commandant before he should be able to -produce the news of his rejoining as a measure of mitigation. - -Fifteen minutes drifted on to thirty. But Rankin hardly noticed. His -mind was occupied with that queer idea about “his ship.” He saw the -thing in vague pictures. Himself, in charge of a gun-crew directing -practice; himself, officer of the deck; himself, again, a brother -officer in the comfortable relaxation of the ward-room with some of -the first gentlemen of the world. Always himself holding down some -position of trust as a member of a great and proud organization--a -United States fighting-ship! - -The thing obsessed him. There was an illusive stirring of his -emotions, a vague thrill about it all. But, hang it all, what had he -to do with ships at all? His ambition was to be a flier. - -Into his abstraction broke two men engaged in speech. - -“Operator reports very sorry, sir, but he can’t get in touch with -your ship, sir. Somethin’ must be wrong with her wireless for the -present; or mebbe it’s static in the air. All messages are bad just -now. He’ll try again in a half an hour or so.” - -The retribution which dogs the steps of the wrong-doer! Before -Rankin could commiserate himself on his ill-luck the other man -saluted and spoke up. His belt and side arms proclaimed him an -orderly at a glance. - -“Commandant’s compliments, sir, and he’d like to see you -immediately.” - -It had come! The inevitable! Ensign Rankin had to face his fate -without a single extenuating circumstance in hand! He strode to the -interview with something less of carelessness than had been his -habit. For some reason the fact of having missed his ship troubled -him more than he had ever thought possible. - -In the commandant’s office he waited for some minutes in silence. -That stern, self-possessed autocrat let him stand unheeded. He was -nervously agitated over the papers which he held, official radio -forms. He bit his pencil, frowning. At last he scribbled a message -on a pad, fired it at an orderly, and looked up sharply at the -delinquent officer. His tone was snappily brusk. - -“H-m. Just arrived, I suppose. Well, my message was meant to reach -you hours ago. Sorry. Can’t attend to your case just now. Urgent -matters come to hand. You will consider yourself confined to the -officers’ mess till I can find time to send for you again.” - - - - - III. - - -Rankin tiptoed out, thankful as any schoolboy that his sentence -should at least have been postponed. On his way to the mess he was -determined to look in for a last chance about his message to “his -ship.” He was thinking of it in those terms himself now; though his -anxiety to get in touch with her was quite beyond his own analysis. - -In the little sending-room, heavy with ozone, there was an -atmosphere of frenzied haste. The operator was working frantically -at his sender and straining to listen for the answering whispers -which came only in intermittent dashes or in blurred nothings. The -man continued sitting at his instrument and shot broken sentences at -the officer between the spasms of staccato raspings from his key. - -“Sorry, sir--nothing yet--tried five minutes ago--try her again later. -Urgent code stuff comin’ in--awful jumble. Static is somethin’ -fierce, ’count o’ this storm brewing.” - -In the intervals of hurried speech he worked his key with his right -hand and scribbled simultaneously with his left. He tore the form -from his pad and thrust it at his messenger. - -“Commandant! Jump to it! Yes, sir; somebody’s all excited up -somewhere; coding like mad. Trying to give a bearing, but I can’t -get it. There she goes again! If you’ll wait a bit, sir, I’ll try -your ship again soon’s I’m clear.” - -Rankin waited, feeling vaguely uneasy about the breakdown of his -ship’s wireless. The key crackled on, harsh, powerful, suggestive of -imminent mystery somewhere. Rankin’s elementary study of the -international Morse presently recognized the recurring dash-dot, -dash-dot as “repeat.” Suddenly the operator sprang to his feet and -stood to rigid attention. - -Rankin wheeled, and saw--the commandant! With him was the officer of -the watch. - -Once again he was caught. A little thing this time; but still it was -dallying with the thin edge of obedience. Rankin was surprised to -find himself feeling his guilt. - -But the commandant noticed him no more than he did the -stiff-standing messenger. That great man’s usually impassive face -was flushed with uneasiness. The sheaf of decoded messages was -clutched into a crumpled ball in his hand. - -It must surely be something of the most extreme urgency, thought -Rankin, which would bring the lord of all the navy-yard universe -hurrying to the radio station in person. The commandant’s whole -attention, in fact, was directed fiercely at the operator. - -“Get me that bearing!” he shot at him. “I must have that bearing! -Seventy-two west, you say; is that correct? But the latitude, man; -what’s the latitude?” - -“Correct as I can catch it, sir. Receiver’s somethin’ awful to-day; -but seventy-two’s what I make it out. An’ I just got latitude -thirty-three, twenty.” - -The information seemed to upset the great man entirely. - -“Great Heaven! Just what I thought. She’s steaming right into it! -Call the destroyer Woodruff immediately and stand by to send this; -my code number, precedence of everything!” - -The operator’s face went blank at the thought. - -“Destroyer Woodruff? Sorry, sir. Can’t pick her up. Been trying for -an hour. Wireless must be out of commission.” - -“You can’t pick-- My God! Dead in her course, too!” The flush of -excitement on the commandant’s stern face had paled. “Call again, -man! Keep on calling, and don’t stop!” - -The tenseness was broken by the flashing crackle which streamed -again from the sender. The commandant waited, tapping his foot in -his agitation. Into his ferment Rankin with all his inexperience of -official propriety intruded. - -“Pardon me, sir. May I ask what is the trouble?” - -“Eh, what!” The commandant looked at him blankly for a moment. Then -indignation added to his nervous irritation. “What the-- Your -curiosity is out of place, _Ensign_ Rankin.” - -“Pardon me. _My ship, sir._” Rankin said it with a feeling of pride, -as though it conferred a right upon him. - -“Your--ah, yes. And you missed her! Well, sir, _your ship is steaming -into a whole fleet of submarines_! That’s the trouble. Five of them; -or maybe ten, or a hundred, as far as we can make out from these -confounded code flashes.” - -“Whe-e-ew!” The wireless operator whistled his startled amazement -before he remembered that he was merely a machine who heard nothing -and knew nothing of what passed in that little electric-charged -room, a highly sensitized automaton, bound by many oaths to eternal -dumbness; then he hid his confusion under the crisp hissing of his -key. - -Rankin echoed his whistle. But his was a personal interest. There -was a danger; and he thought somehow that he ought to be there to -share it. “His ship” had taken a definite meaning in his mind. In -the strained silence which followed, broken only by the intermittent -crackling calls into the void, he pictured her rushing into the -peril, all unwarned and unsuspecting. Vaguely the commandant’s voice -came to him, talking to the operator seemingly out of the distance. - -“It is imperative to communicate. We _must_ get in touch.” - -It woke him out of his abstraction with a start. A wild idea had -begun to take shape in his brain. Thoughtless of all pros and cons, -he grasped at it with enthusiasm. Eagerly he burst out: - -“How about an aeroplane, sir?” - -“Ha, an aeroplane!” With the exclamation the commandant’s face -cleared, and for a moment he contemplated the idea as an inspiration -of Providence. Then he shook his head. - -“Impossible! Why, man, the Woodruff is two hundred miles on her way -to Havana by now!” - -“I could make that easily, sir; I’ve flown more than that before -now.” - -“And if you should miss her?” - -“With a hydro, sir, I could come down alongside and be picked up.” - -“Nonsense, boy!” the commandant snapped testily at his thoughtless -enthusiasm. “I don’t mean that. Think, man, think. In any case, with -a sea running like to-day’s, you’d be smashed to splinters long -before you could ever be picked up. But what I mean is, suppose you -should miss her entirely? - -“From what I know of those things, your course is a matter of -guesswork, anyway, and you have to keep checking up by landmarks all -the time. Out at sea you’d lose yourself in ten minutes. And when -you’ve missed her, how are you coming back? Two hundred out and two -hundred back, to say nothing if another hundred or so lost in -overhauling her and scouting around. Why, man, there’s not a machine -in the service capable of making that. Certainly not without special -preparation. No, sir; the chance is too desperate for me to order -any man out on a thing like that.” - -Rankin’s enthusiasm, fell with a cruel slump, and all the happy -eagerness died out of his face. All these things he had overlooked -in the first flush of his inspiration; and they were all true, too. - -The older man, keen old veteran, with practised anticipation of all -possible eventualities, had put his finger with unerring accuracy on -each of the weak spots. Nor did he magnify their weakness at all. -The thing was desperate, a forlorn hope. - -Rankin turned them dully over in his mind, looking for a possible -saving clause, but not a one could he find. The eagerness then died -from his face. But slowly its place began to be taken by a cold -determination. - -“I--I’d like to volunteer, sir, anyhow--to convey a warning to my -ship.” - -“Hey, what? What’s that? You’d like to volunteer?” The snappy -irritation in the commandant’s voice was tempered with a sudden -human understanding. He looked with fierce appraisal into the pale, -hard-set face. The drama had crystallized down to just the two of -them, two strong men looking into each other’s wide eyes with a -single vital question-mark between them. - -The rest of the scene and the men in it were forgotten as far as -these two were concerned. But the others stood in strained, -expectant positions as though they had been frozen. The signaler -ceased from his incessant crackle to hang on the commandant’s words. -Twenty seconds--thirty--a full minute; and only the broken, noisy -breathing of somebody was heard. Then the commandant shook his head -slowly, regretfully. - -“Impossible, boy! I can’t do it! No, we must find some other way. -Besides”--there was a world of kindliness in the tone--“you see--I’m -sorry--but you’ve been officially declared ‘unfit for aviation.’ I -couldn’t let you go, even if I could contemplate your plan for a -second. No, no, my boy, I’m sorry.” - -He walked slowly to the door. There he turned suddenly, and the -voice was snappily terse again. - -“Signaler! What have you stopped for? Keep calling, and don’t stop -for anything under any circumstances. If your wrist gives out, get a -relay; and let me know immediately as soon as you connect. -Immediately, by cycle orderly--Mr. Tracy, will you see to that? And -my compliments to the senior officers of the yard to confer with me -in my office immediately, please.” - -The officer of the watch saluted. The commandant strode from the -room. And in the immediately following swift bustle Rankin was the -only man with nothing on his hands. - -But his soul was full of bitter disappointment and heart-burning. -“Unfit!” The reminder was a cruel stab into his enthusiasm, however -kindly it had been put. He stood inertly, wrestling with bitter -indecision for whole minutes, and then a queer expression, half -smile half grimness, stole slowly over his face and he crept out of -the room. - -His next movements certainly looked like desertion, urged by -desperation and tinged with madness. For, once out of the -radio-room, he raced about the yard like one demented. To the sacred -precincts of the instrument-room he rushed, and, making some wild -explanation to the man in charge, he removed therefrom several of -the neat leather cases of queer shapes. Another swift foray procured -him a chart. In like manner he _borrowed_ a car from the long, -neatly parked line of officers’ private conveyances. Whose it was he -didn’t know, and he didn’t care; only he took the one which seemed -to give promise of the greatest speed. - -Within five minutes of the commandant’s decision he was disobeying -for the second time that day his orders to confine himself to the -yard. Disobeying with speed and violence, for he was shooting down -the long concrete road which led to the main gate like a dark-red -shell. - -Senior Lieutenant Tracy, the officer of the watch, became aware of -the thing hurtling down upon him, and he jumped angrily aside. What -fool was breaking yard regulations like that? He recognized Rankin -as he whizzed past, and remembered the commandant’s order. He called -wildly after him, but Rankin never swerved an inch. Bent low over -the wheel, he fired himself at the gate. Officers’ cars, of course, -were never questioned. The gate opened with profane promptness, and -Rankin whirled out of his prison. Ten minutes later he was roaring -down the road which pointed like a long, straight tape line to -Atlantic City. - - - - - IV. - - -At Atlantic City, on the beach, opposite to the newest -ten-million-dollar hotel, stood a huge tent of unusual shape, guyed -down and double guyed with wire cable for security. Its occupant and -owner was viewing with critical satisfaction the beautiful, -wide-winged flying-boat which balanced so gracefully on its truck, -stretching from one far canvas wall right across to the other, when -he was suddenly overwhelmed by a breathless young man in a dusty -uniform who demanded fiercely: - -“Jim, I want you to _give_ me your bus right away.” - -This Jim was another of those men whose nerves do not start at -sudden and unexpected happenings. - -“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “Want to go joy riding?” And he -held out his hand. - -“No, no, you don’t understand,” the other panted. “I want you to -give it to me--to wreck!” - -Jim’s voice became serious, though the slow smile never left his -face. He seated himself methodically on a tool-box. - -“Button off the power, Jack; come to earth and tell us all about -it,” he said quietly. - -Jack told him, in fierce sentences and few. - -“So, you see, Jim, it’s make or break,” he concluded, “and we’ve got -no time to lose. Come on!” - -Jim sat solid on his tool-box. - -“Wait a minute, Jack,” he said soberly. “This is a big thing you’re -asking me. There’s ten thousand dollars gone into this outfit, and -it’s all I’ve got in the world; it’s my last stake. Half of it’s not -mine, anyhow. I had to get backing, and it’s not nearly paid off. - -“This passenger work isn’t the gold-mine any more that it used to -be; I can’t charge these summer sports more than fifteen dollars a -jump; upkeep is something fierce; and I’m still in the hole for -about three thousand bucks. I figured to clear by the end of the -season.” - -“But don’t you see, Jim,” Rankin appealed piteously, “it’s the only -way! And she’s running right into deadly danger! My ship! A United -States fighting-ship, Jim. And--and--” His voice trailed away -searching hopelessly for something to say, some conclusive argument -that would accomplish his purpose. - -Jim sat motionless. His face had the torn, introspective expression -of Rodin’s “Thinker.” Presently his voice came in a ruminative -monotone through lips that scarcely opened: - -“And Uncle Sam needs his ships mighty bad just now, eh?” Then -suddenly: “Hell!” he shouted, and jumped to his feet. “Damn our old -uncle, anyway! Stick your head out of the flap and holler for my -mechanics.” - -Rankin jumped at him with both hands outstretched. - -“Jim! I knew you’d do it! You’re white all through!” - -“Aw, hell,” muttered Jim again with gruff discomfort, pushing him -off. “Get busy and fill up that gas-tank to the last drop you can -make her hold, while I get into my helmet and togs.” - -“Your togs! What d’you want your gear for?” - -Jim’s jaw was thrust out with belligerence. - -“If Uncle Sam needs you on this job,” he said doggedly, “he needs -me, too. This is a two-man stunt. Shut up now, and beat it.” - -The next few minutes were a whirlwind of strenuous effort, -punctuated with snapped question and fired-back answer and swift -directions to the sweating mechanics. Under their practised handling -the machine was ready for its great task in record time. - -“I swiped a Sperry synchronized driftset and compass from the yard, -Jim,” panted Rankin. - -“You did!” shouted Jim, and his face lit. “That’s the first slim -chance I see, then, of our picking up your darned ship. Mighty like -hunting the needle in the haystack anyway. How far’s she out?” - -“Commandant said two hundred miles.” - -“Good stuff! If any bus in the country can do it, mine will. She -makes just over the hundred per hour, and she’s fitted with every -mechanical improvement there is.” - -There was a note of regretful farewell in the tone. He had been very -proud of his machine; and she certainly was the acme of American -aeronautic skill. - -_Stagger_, she had, and _dihedral_, and _retreat_, mystic -technicalities of wing construction which came very near to -realizing the dreamer’s goal of automatic stability. Control wires -had a safety factor of eight. There was a dashboard before each of -the dual control yokes dotted with a maze of glass-dialed -instruments. - -The two seats were tandem, with telephonic communication so that the -occupants could converse above the roar of the engine. Nothing, in -fact, which might contribute to speed and safety and accuracy had -been omitted. And now--she was going out into the approaching night -beyond her capacity of return, like a swimmer who swims out to sea -beyond the limit of his strength. No wonder that the owner swore at -his old Uncle Sam even while he made his gift. - -On the beach, where the great machine floated like some graceful, -swift storm petrel, Jim suddenly pushed Rankin to the rear seat. - -“What’s the matter?” asked Rankin hurriedly. “Aren’t you going to -fly her?” - -“Nope,” said Jim with determination. “’S your job. You’re a better -flier anyway. Me for the instruments. I’ve been boning up a lot on -this new dope about wave crest length and wind ratio and bomb -dropping and all. Kinder hoped to get a commission myself--once; -but--hell! Hop in and make your tests. If I’m in on this funeral I’m -going to phone good-by to the girl.” - -Then for the first time did Rankin remember his girl, and her trust, -and his promise, and what it meant between him and her. - -He hesitated a moment; he, too, would have liked to telephone. For -he was very human and just then some mysterious providence or other -which looks after those who strive with a great purpose flashed to -him a vague realization of his own weakness. Telephoning, the voice -on the wire, with its note of appeal from the purely personal view -point of the woman who waited, might undermine that high resolve. He -set his teeth and climbed into the seat ready for action. - -With lips hard pinched, he tested his controls to see that -everything was running smoothly. He tested the Christensen -self-starter. With an explosive whir the propeller caught up the -ignition. He ran the engine at idling speed, watching his oil -pressure and water gages for free feeding. Everything ran with the -smoothness of a fine watch. - -Jim came running. - -“Give her the gun!” he shouted, hurling himself into his seat. - -Rankin pulled back the throttle lever. With a roar the propeller -took up its speed; the tachometer dial jumped to fifteen thousand -revolutions; and the beautiful great bird glided out from the shore, -trusting to fate to attain its purpose. - -Rankin pulled tentatively on the elevator control. The machine -answered beautifully; lifted at once to its planing angle and -skimmed the surface. Rankin hauled back, on the control. - -“How does she climb?” he asked into the telephone mouthpiece which -rose from his chest. - -“’Bout six hundred,” came the muffled reply from the observer’s seat -in front. “Let her go.” - - - - - V. - - -The great adventure had commenced. Half an hour had sped since one -impetuous fanatic had charged into the tent and persuaded the other -to race out with him and offer up possibly their lives and certainly -the machine in their wild quest of service to their so much berated -Uncle Sam. Only half an hour! But in view of the ship that was -rushing inexorably on into it knew not what, a priceless thirty -minutes. - -The machine hurtled ahead into the dark cloud bank, dipping and -swaying and yawing like an instruction flight. Rankin was “feeling -out ” the little individual peculiarities of the machine which was -new to him. - -Presently he settled down to a long steady climb up to his traveling -level which he proposed, to make about five thousand feet in order -to hold as wide a range of vision from the height as the heavy -atmosphere would permit of. His face was very grim and stern; he was -making no mistakes about the percentage of chances which were out -against him. - -“What d’you need for setting your course?” he spoke shortly into the -mouthpiece. - -“Where’s your ship?” - -“Can’t say; don’t know her speed. Commandant said two hundred, and -she’s made maybe forty or fifty since.” - -“How in blazes are we going to find the blasted tub then?” Jim was -feeling subconsciously the loss of ten thousand dollars. - -“Say she’s making twenty, and we approximate a hundred, we ought to -overhaul her in about three hours at the outside. Lay off her course -on the chart from Philly to Havana; get on to it and take a high -level after her.” - -For ten minutes there was silence while Jim scribbled frantically -with his pencil and the great machine roared and throbbed all round -them. Finally: - -“Huh,” came a grunt. “’Bout thirty miles out, and then south by east -and keep guessing for luck.” - -Rankin watched his clock for eight more minutes with infinite care, -for when one is hurtling through the air at a hundred miles an hour -delay means more than a little difference. Then he banked sharply -over and swung round. - -“Ought to be on her tail now,” he muttered. “Now figure drift and -give me my variation.” - -Technical sounding-stuff, but easy of explanation. Just as a boatman -rowing across a tide rip has to point the nose of his boat several -degrees into the current in order to hold a straight course for the -desired landing, so an aeroplane rushing through a cross wind must -“crab” sometimes. - -Easy of explanation; but for an aeroplane flying over water with no -landmarks to guide, a considerable calculation. And time! Every -minute of time counted so vitally! To arrive at a correct conclusion -many factors had to be taken into consideration, the least error in -the smallest of which would mean many miles of difference. - -The main factors, of course, were actual speed through the air and -wind speed. The first was easy; an instrument gave it. But wind -speed? On the ground, stationary, an instrument could give that too; -but at five thousand feet in the air it had to be calculated. To do -that one had to know the approximate length between the crests of -the waves; and to approximate that, one had to know the exact -height. - -Suddenly an explosive snarl came from in front. - -“Curse it! In the hurry I forgot to adjust my altimeter to sea -level.” - -Without a word Rankin pushed the control over into a steep dive. -Within a few feet of the surface he “flattened,” and on receiving a -confirmatory grunt he lifted the machine into another long climb. - -Presently: - -“Wave length twenty feet--gives velocity fifteen decimal four. Fierce -for a landing.” - -“Pitot tube gives a clear hundred and four miles per. Work it out.” - -Came a whole series of grunts; and presently the movable lubber line -on the dial of the Sperry, which was synchronized with the drift -indicator in the observer’s hand in the front seat, began to swing -round. - -Rankin followed it with a sigh of thankfulness and a prayer for luck -and settled down to a long steady grind of keeping her nose down to -it. No easy matter in a high gusty wind; and a few points deviation -meant so many priceless minutes lost at this critical time. - -Two hours passed; and as the work became mechanical, Rankin’s -thoughts turned inevitably to the girl. What would she say? How -would she regard his fall from his promise? How could he ever make -her see the thing as it was? - -“Ha, ha!” He barked a short laugh. Fool! Very possibly there never -would be any occasion for an explanation. He glued his eyes down to -the lubber line and followed it as it shifted from one side to the -other as the observer recalculated and checked up his figures from -time to time. - -But his thoughts kept coming back to torture him. The girl; always -the girl. The imminent chance of coming down somewhere in the ocean, -helpless, with gas all expended, and being battered to a wreck in a -minute found no place in his mind. Suddenly the grumbling voice came -across and woke him to action. - -“Smoke on the port bow; three points.” - -Rankin’s heart jumped up into his mouth and he peered through his -windshield. Then he shot the machine down for the thin smudge across -the horizon like a swooping eagle. - -Five minutes; ten minutes. He could see Jim leaning out from his -seat with the Zeiss prism glasses to his eyes. Jim waved an arm -wildly to the right and ducked back into his hole. - -“Blasted United Fruit boat.” - -Grimly, without a word again, Rankin swung back and climbed on his -course. After many minutes he spoke tersely, without emotion. - -“Jim. Suppose we find her--and the waves smash us before she can pick -us up. Better write a note; make a package. Maybe we can drop it.” - -“Huh! If we find her we’ve been doing some flying, lemme tell you.” - -But Rankin knew in the silence that Jim was scribbling furiously. - -Dusk began to come. Rankin unconsciously began to strain his eyes -over his wind-shield as though he had to rely on himself alone. -Suddenly: - -“Smoke! Way over starboard!” - -Instantly Rankin dived for it with a quickening of the pulse. -Testily the voice came. - -“Hey! Not that, you goat. Farther over. Heavy stuff; looks like a -mile of cloud bank.” In a few more minutes: “Yes, that’s the -one--lower; can’t make her out; she’s smothered.” - -After a strained period again, in snappy intervals, but in a -passionless monotone: - -“Two master--some speeder--but she’s steaming up and down and around -and cutting all sorts of fancy patterns--dive to it son! Destroyer, -making knots!” - -Rankin dove. All he said was: - -“Get your package ready.” - -But in his heart was an exultant thankfulness that he had arrived in -time to warn “his ship.” In a few more minutes he was able to -distinguish her himself, smothering herself in foam and black -columns of smoke as she smashed her sharp nose into the high-running -waves. He could make out the short stumpy signaling masts, the -torpedo tubes, the quick, rapid-firing guns, and-- - -Suddenly there was more smoke! Not from the low, raking funnels, but -from the starboard quarters! Then a sharp puff! And then another! -And then a spitting stream! At the same instant came Jim’s voice, -vibrant and tense; and Rankin could feel through the micrometer that -even that passionless man was excited at last. - -“They’ve got her, by God!” - -Rankin gripped the wheel and leaned forward as though he could by -sheer muscular effort impart a yet greater speed to the hurtling -machine. Then again the wire-drawn voice: - -“Jack, it’s God’s luck! Under my--under your seat there’s another -kind of package. Been doing some hand-bomb practise on a raft, and -there’s two or three left! Was going out again to-morrow. Can you -reach? Can you steer her?” - -Rankin’s heart leaped with a wild exhilaration of sudden battle. -“Steer her with my feet,” he hissed back, and he groped below the -seat. - -“To the right!” came a yell which jarred his ear-drums. - -Rankin peered over the edge of the fuselage. At first he saw nothing -but surging whitecaps; and then, cutting through them at a long -slant from one gray patch of water to another, he discerned a thin -streak which left ripples behind it like the fin of a shark. - -Without any definite idea of what he was to do he swooped down for -it like a giant fish hawk. Then he saw that all round it there kept -rising an erratic shower of fountains of high-flung spray which -repeated themselves half a mile farther on, and then repeated again, -and again at lessening intervals. - -But the phenomenon conveyed nothing to him, and he continued to rush -on into the danger zone and noticed only that the ship had turned -almost like a rabbit and was charging down on the same object at the -same time. - -“To the left!” came another ear-splitting yell. - -Rankin snatched a hurried glance from the shark to look over his -shoulder. There, within three hundred yards of him a long gray whale -was emerging. There, was something he could see, something he could -aim at. Instantly he banked over so that one wide wing-tip skimmed -the wave crests, and hurled himself at it. Almost before he had -regained his equilibrium he was above. His arm flashed over the side -and heaved a conical black object clear of the wing, and then he was -over. - -There was a giant splash, and: - -“Missed her!” yelled Jim, hopping in his seat to face backward. - -Rankin spat a terrible oath through his grim set teeth and wheeled -over again on a sixty degree slant. As he came round he could see -that the whale was hurriedly submerging again. The next second he -snatched another black shape from its resting place between his -knees and flung it out, well forward. It passed from his view -immediately. - -He saw Jim’s arms go up with an exultant yell; and the same instant -a terrific blast of hot air from behind him kicked the tail of the -machine up with a resistless suddenness which drove its nose down at -a steep angle for the water. At that height there was no possibility -of regaining control. In a second there was a tearing, foaming -smash, and Rankin was hurled forward onto the wheel with the force -of his own suddenly arrested momentum! - - - - - VI. - - -Here was one test of the born aviator. Presence of mind. Rankin did -not hold wildly on to everything within reach to save himself from -falling; his first instinct was to fling himself clear from the -entangling brace wires. Though he was under water and half -smothered, he kept in mind the most open way out, and within the -half minute he struggled out onto the limp wreckage of what had once -been a lower wing plane. Jim was already crawling up onto an upper -surface. - -“Hell!” was his greeting. “Guess I’ll earn no more toward that three -thousand out of her. Come on up, the view is fine. This side isn’t -smashed up so terribly, and there’s air enough in the camber spaces -to keep her afloat for a long while yet.” - -Rankin climbed up and joined him on his sagging raft, careful not to -put his foot through the fabric. The whale was gone utterly! So were -all the shark fins. At least, they could see none from their rocking -perch. The dominant thought that had impelled him for so long was -still uppermost in Rankin’s mind. - -“Good stuff!” he kept muttering. “Great! Now’s her time to get away. -Why don’t she turn and make a blue streak?” - -Their own plight remained in the background of his mind, to be taken -out and dealt with after other more important matters had been -settled. - -But the United States Destroyer Woodruff was showing no desire to -get away. Instead, she rushed back and forth and up and down like a -questing terrier and every now and then she barked viciously as one -gun crew or another fired at anything which appeared to them to have -the remotest chance of being a shark’s fin. - -For a full half hour she hunted, and then at slower speed she -steamed for the soggy, slowly sinking raft. With navy smartness a -boat hit the water long before the ship had lost her way, and in a -few more minutes the two fanatics, nearly normal now, stood on the -heaving deck which rolled thirty degrees each way and felt to them -as solid as a city sidewalk. - -At the gangway a petty officer saluted them. - -“Cap’n’s compliments, sir. Waiting for you in his cabin, sir.” - -Rankin was surprised. He had looked for surprise from the other -side, but they seemed to have been expecting him. - -Lieutenant Commander Evans stood in his holy of holies, the -captain’s cabin. Ensign Rankin was quite normal by this time. That -is to say, he did not know exactly what navy etiquette demanded for -the occasion. He drew himself up stiffly, dripping sea water all -over the carpet, and saluted. - -“Report on board for duty, sir.” - -His commander gasped at the amazing young man. For the first time in -all his navy experience he did not know himself exactly what such an -occasion demanded. For a few minutes he said nothing; then, with a -dry smile: - -“H-m, yes; we heard all about you. Managed to pick up a wireless; -but I’m hanged if we ever expected to see you.” He broke into a grim -laugh. “Yes, we were surprised enough; but you must have looked like -the premeditated malice of the devil to those submersibles. It was -great work my boy, great. We’ll be sorry to lose you now.” - -“Lose me?” wondered Rankin. - -“Well,” Commander Evans spoke with slow deliberation. “I suppose -you’ll be reassigned to aviation after this. It’s not every day that -one saves a United States destroyer, you know.” - -Rankin’s heart jumped and he felt his color rising; and since it is -not seemly for an aviator to display emotion he saluted hastily and -turned to go. The deliberate voice stopped him. - -“Better put in a claim for that machine. Since she’s been in active -service I guess the navy’ll take her over.” - -“Thank you, sir.” Again Rankin turned with his hand on the door-knob -lest his face should betray the double exultation in his soul. - -Once again that exasperating recall. - -“Oh, by the way; there was another wireless; private, for you; a -most insistent person.” - -Rankin wheeled in a flash. There is a limit to emotional -suppression. His commanding officer was holding out a long envelope -to him. Rankin took it with a haste which amounted almost to a -rudeness and tore it open with fingers that trembled unmanfully. The -first thing he looked for was the signature--Eileen! It loomed as big -as a theater advertisement. - -“Bully for both of you,” it read. “I know you’ll succeed.” - -Rankin waved it wildly over his head and whooped like a hysterical -Indian. It was a shameful display of emotion for an aviator, and a -most improper action for an ensign in his commander’s private cabin. -But Lieutenant Commander Evans only smiled. - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the December 29, 1917 -issue of The Argosy magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CHANCE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/68552-0.zip b/old/68552-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 145d13f..0000000 --- a/old/68552-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68552-h.zip b/old/68552-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c73c753..0000000 --- a/old/68552-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68552-h/68552-h.htm b/old/68552-h/68552-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index c389702..0000000 --- a/old/68552-h/68552-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1519 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flying Chance, by Gordon McCreagh</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - .ce { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - .wifpc { margin-left:15%; width:70% } - .x-ebookmaker .wifpc { margin-left:5%; width:90% } - .mt01 { margin-top:1em; } - .mb01 { margin-bottom:1em; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; } - .tn { background-color:linen; font-size:0.8em; border:1px solid silver; width:80%; - margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; margin-bottom:1em; padding:0.4em 2%; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The flying chance, by Gordon McCreagh</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The flying chance</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Gordon McCreagh</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 18, 2022 [eBook #68552]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CHANCE ***</div> -<div class='section'> -<div class='ce'> -<h1>The Flying Chance</h1> -<div>By Gordon McCreagh </div> -</div> -<div id='ifpc' class='mt01 mb01 wifpc'> - <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>I.</h2> - -<p>The commandant of the Philadelphia navy-yard looked up from the -sheaf of papers which bore the superscription of the Bureau of Naval -Affairs, Washington, at the young man who stood at attention before -his desk.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Rankin,” he said simply.</p> - -<p>The brown, alert face showed no surprise. Ensign Rankin belonged to -those men who cannot afford to be easily shaken from their balance, -but his passionate argument was already on his lips.</p> - -<p>“But why?” he cried. “Why? I passed in everything else. My sense of -balance was perfect. My nerve reactions were A No. 1. My blood -pressure, hearing, everything! Only those paltry two points I fell -short in.”</p> - -<p>Official dignity relaxed just a trifle before the bitterness of the -young man’s disappointment.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” the commandant said again. “But this flying business is -dangerous enough as it is without our adding to it by overlooking -the slightest imperfection in the human machine. The service -requires a full twenty in eyesight, and your test measures up only -eighteen. Therefore you have been judged ‘unfit for aviation.’”</p> - -<p>The hundred and sixty pounds of hard, lean athlete stiffened yet -further with the fighting spirit.</p> - -<p>“Then, with your permission, sir, I shall appeal for a waiver. -Because I’ve flown all kinds of machines long before I ever got this -commission.”</p> - -<p>The commandant’s eyes were steely.</p> - -<p>“It will do you no good to appeal to Washington for a waiver, Mr. -Rankin. There have been a few cases, I admit—a very few, like -Williams and Steffanson—but only after the men concerned have proved -themselves to be expert beyond all question in spite of their -physical shortcomings.</p> - -<p>“These orders are final. You have already been transferred to line -duty, and you will report to Lieutenant-Commander Evans for further -instructions.”</p> - -<p>Even the rawest and scrappiest ensign could make no mistake about -that tone. Rankin sensed vaguely that the authority of the whole -United States stood behind that incisive, unruffled voice.</p> - -<p>He went, and reported.</p> - -<p>“Ha, Rankin,” Lieutenant-Commander Evans greeted him. “I’ve already -received orders about you. I’m sure we shall be pleased to have you -with us. If you will call for me at the mess some time this -afternoon I’ll take you on board and introduce you in the -ward-room.”</p> - -<p>Rankin murmured a conventional thanks. But he meant not a word of -it. His mind was full of the injustice of his case. He was not -interested in line duties; he had come into the service for -aviation.</p> - -<p>“I guess there’s nothing you can do till then,” Evans continued. -“Only don’t get lost. Stick around the yard somewhere; because we’re -under orders to hold ourselves in readiness to put out at a moment’s -notice, and all leave has been cut short.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, sir.”</p> - -<p>“All right. See you around three o’clock then.”</p> - -<p>Rankin’s was a war commission. That is to say, his rating in the -naval militia had been accepted at its face value by the navy. He -was therefore a full-blown ensign, just the same as any Annapolis -graduate, much to the indignation of those same graduates, who had -spent many toilsome years in qualifying for the same rank.</p> - -<p>Militia commissions were always looked upon with disfavor by the -Annapolis men. Rankin, for instance, had put in just two months with -the naval militia of his State, and had been elected to a commission -by his fellows on account of his happy popularity and his superior -experience in flying.</p> - -<p>The sacred traditions of the service, therefore, meant nothing to -him. Stern discipline and unquestioning obedience were vague -unpleasantnesses, half understood, and in theory only. To “stick -around the yard,” then, for the rest of the day with nothing to do -didn’t have any sense in it; furthermore, there was a girl who lived -in West Philadelphia—and there was loads of time before three -o’clock.</p> - -</div> -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>II.</h2> - -<p>Within the hour Rankin was ringing that familiar bell on the other -side of the river. The girl kept him waiting, to stride nervously up -and down the veranda. A wry grin twisted his firm, straight lips. -She hadn’t forgotten that little difference, then, and her -ultimatum.</p> - -<p>When she finally came out, after fully five minutes’ delay, Rankin -knew at once from the hard, set look about her usually dimpled -mouth, and the steadiness of her gray eyes, that she had been -schooling her determination, and that she still considered the -barrier to exist. He knew well enough what it was, too, and his -first rueful words were meant to remove it.</p> - -<p>“Well, Eileen, I’m out of it at last.”</p> - -<p>“Out of what?” There was a half hope and a hint of willing surrender -in her eager question.</p> - -<p>“Out of aviation—for keeps.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jack! Did you really? I—I never thought—” The joyous -exclamation stammered down to a more diffident, almost apologetic -statement with a rising color. “I never really thought you’d ever -give up so much, just for me.”</p> - -<p>Now there was a whole lot of plain human in Jack Rankin. He didn’t -ordinarily lie without necessity; but here was a sudden, -irresistible temptation positively thrust at him to steal at least a -little credit out of a situation which held nothing but the -bitterest disappointment for him. His hesitation was just for a -fraction of a second, and then he prevaricated by inference.</p> - -<p>Nor was he overskilful about it. He was just wise enough to hold his -peace and to squeeze her outstretched hand with a world of meaning. -Her surrender was instant and complete. With radiant eyes in which -there was just a hint of tears, she led him to the comfortable -hammock, plethoric with pillows, which swung in the veranda breeze.</p> - -<p>“I know it’s an awfully big thing to have asked you, Jack,” she -comforted him with the half regretful confidence of a big-hearted -girl who has just forced a sacrifice from her lover. “But you -understand now how I felt about it, don’t you, dear? I just couldn’t -marry you as long as you stayed in that horrible business.</p> - -<p>“I could never sleep without seeing that awful grand stand and that -field where poor Bob— Oh, I can’t bear to think about it. And with -Jim sticking to it yet; he’s so obstinate. One in the family is bad -enough. I just couldn’t bear it, Jack.”</p> - -<p>Rankin just patted the round curve of her shoulder and still said -nothing. Bob was one of the many who had paid the toll to the -greatest of all games; Jim was the other brother. Rankin understood -how the girl felt, and the scrupulous conscience which besets every -decent young man when he is in love smote him.</p> - -<p>Almost he confessed. But when a beautiful, tearful girl jumps to a -conclusion and makes a self-sacrificing hero out of one, how shall a -man who is ordinarily human disillusion her? Jack Rankin stifled the -still, small voice and postponed the telling to a vague, more -propitious future. Sufficient to the day the evil thereof. He would -have trouble enough explaining his absence from the navy-yard, -should his commanding officer by any chance look for him before his -return. In the mean while, there were matters of infinitely greater -importance.</p> - -<p>Given a beautiful girl, a hammock, and the impending prospect of an -indefinite separation, three o’clock in the afternoon arrives all -too soon. When Ensign Rankin came to the officers’ mess, hurrying to -make up for lost time, and trying to carry off an air of innocence -as if he had been looking for his chief for quite a while, a couple -of juniors looked furtively at him.</p> - -<p>His guilty conscience was quick to catch the glance, and he knew -that his nemesis had overtaken him. But of the full virulence of its -malice he had no inkling as yet.</p> - -<p>“Seen anything of my skipper?” he asked with an assumption of ease.</p> - -<p>“No,” said one of them shortly.</p> - -<p>“Not for hours and hours,” added the other with equally ominous -brevity.</p> - -<p>“Hours and hours?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He was looking for you. Making knots all round the yard.”</p> - -<p>“Why so anxious?”</p> - -<p>“Commandant’s looking for you now.” Rankin hid his anxiety by -threatening to slay the last speaker.</p> - -<p>“But why? Why? Let me in on the mystery, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Leggo, you deserting ruffian! Why? <i>Because your ship put out from -her berth under telegraphic orders at just about five bells this -afternoon.</i> That’s why. Now you’d better go hide till you can think -up a good excuse.”</p> - -<p>Smash! The bomb had fallen! No wonder the whole navy-yard had been -looking for him. Missing ship was a serious enough thing in itself; -and when it had happened in the face of direct orders it became a -matter for the outraged attention of the commandant himself, with -prospects of Court martial looming dark in the immediate background.</p> - -<p>Even Rankin sensed that he had offended beyond his realization. With -the instinct of quick thinking which is so essential to the man who -takes his life up into the shifting air currents, his mind flashed -to the wireless plant. Perhaps he would be able to communicate with -his commanding officer and rejoin at the first port of call. He made -the radio station in just two jumps. The operator saluted him quite -hastily.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Crowded with official business just now, sir; but I’ll be -able to put your message through in about fifteen minutes. Where can -I send the answer, sir? I guess I’ll have no trouble pickin’ up your -ship.”</p> - -<p>“His ship” again. The words jarred with an indefinable sensation. It -conveyed an impression of irrevocable divorce from his -ambition—aviation. Everybody seemed to regard him already as a part -of the line organization. And, what was more, there was a distinct -air of congratulation about it; as though it let him into an -honorable and super-select fraternity.</p> - -<p>He murmured an abstract instruction to send the reply to the -quarters of Junior Lieutenant Mason, and went there to wait for it, -dodging furtively behind the various yard buildings to avoid a -possible message from the commandant before he should be able to -produce the news of his rejoining as a measure of mitigation.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes drifted on to thirty. But Rankin hardly noticed. His -mind was occupied with that queer idea about “his ship.” He saw the -thing in vague pictures. Himself, in charge of a gun-crew directing -practice; himself, officer of the deck; himself, again, a brother -officer in the comfortable relaxation of the ward-room with some of -the first gentlemen of the world. Always himself holding down some -position of trust as a member of a great and proud organization—a -United States fighting-ship!</p> - -<p>The thing obsessed him. There was an illusive stirring of his -emotions, a vague thrill about it all. But, hang it all, what had he -to do with ships at all? His ambition was to be a flier.</p> - -<p>Into his abstraction broke two men engaged in speech.</p> - -<p>“Operator reports very sorry, sir, but he can’t get in touch with -your ship, sir. Somethin’ must be wrong with her wireless for the -present; or mebbe it’s static in the air. All messages are bad just -now. He’ll try again in a half an hour or so.”</p> - -<p>The retribution which dogs the steps of the wrong-doer! Before -Rankin could commiserate himself on his ill-luck the other man -saluted and spoke up. His belt and side arms proclaimed him an -orderly at a glance.</p> - -<p>“Commandant’s compliments, sir, and he’d like to see you -immediately.”</p> - -<p>It had come! The inevitable! Ensign Rankin had to face his fate -without a single extenuating circumstance in hand! He strode to the -interview with something less of carelessness than had been his -habit. For some reason the fact of having missed his ship troubled -him more than he had ever thought possible.</p> - -<p>In the commandant’s office he waited for some minutes in silence. -That stern, self-possessed autocrat let him stand unheeded. He was -nervously agitated over the papers which he held, official radio -forms. He bit his pencil, frowning. At last he scribbled a message -on a pad, fired it at an orderly, and looked up sharply at the -delinquent officer. His tone was snappily brusk.</p> - -<p>“H-m. Just arrived, I suppose. Well, my message was meant to reach -you hours ago. Sorry. Can’t attend to your case just now. Urgent -matters come to hand. You will consider yourself confined to the -officers’ mess till I can find time to send for you again.”</p> - -</div> -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>III.</h2> - -<p>Rankin tiptoed out, thankful as any schoolboy that his sentence -should at least have been postponed. On his way to the mess he was -determined to look in for a last chance about his message to “his -ship.” He was thinking of it in those terms himself now; though his -anxiety to get in touch with her was quite beyond his own analysis.</p> - -<p>In the little sending-room, heavy with ozone, there was an -atmosphere of frenzied haste. The operator was working frantically -at his sender and straining to listen for the answering whispers -which came only in intermittent dashes or in blurred nothings. The -man continued sitting at his instrument and shot broken sentences at -the officer between the spasms of staccato raspings from his key.</p> - -<p>“Sorry, sir—nothing yet—tried five minutes ago—try her again later. -Urgent code stuff comin’ in—awful jumble. Static is somethin’ -fierce, ’count o’ this storm brewing.”</p> - -<p>In the intervals of hurried speech he worked his key with his right -hand and scribbled simultaneously with his left. He tore the form -from his pad and thrust it at his messenger.</p> - -<p>“Commandant! Jump to it! Yes, sir; somebody’s all excited up -somewhere; coding like mad. Trying to give a bearing, but I can’t -get it. There she goes again! If you’ll wait a bit, sir, I’ll try -your ship again soon’s I’m clear.”</p> - -<p>Rankin waited, feeling vaguely uneasy about the breakdown of his -ship’s wireless. The key crackled on, harsh, powerful, suggestive of -imminent mystery somewhere. Rankin’s elementary study of the -international Morse presently recognized the recurring dash-dot, -dash-dot as “repeat.” Suddenly the operator sprang to his feet and -stood to rigid attention.</p> - -<p>Rankin wheeled, and saw—the commandant! With him was the officer of -the watch.</p> - -<p>Once again he was caught. A little thing this time; but still it was -dallying with the thin edge of obedience. Rankin was surprised to -find himself feeling his guilt.</p> - -<p>But the commandant noticed him no more than he did the -stiff-standing messenger. That great man’s usually impassive face -was flushed with uneasiness. The sheaf of decoded messages was -clutched into a crumpled ball in his hand.</p> - -<p>It must surely be something of the most extreme urgency, thought -Rankin, which would bring the lord of all the navy-yard universe -hurrying to the radio station in person. The commandant’s whole -attention, in fact, was directed fiercely at the operator.</p> - -<p>“Get me that bearing!” he shot at him. “I must have that bearing! -Seventy-two west, you say; is that correct? But the latitude, man; -what’s the latitude?”</p> - -<p>“Correct as I can catch it, sir. Receiver’s somethin’ awful to-day; -but seventy-two’s what I make it out. An’ I just got latitude -thirty-three, twenty.”</p> - -<p>The information seemed to upset the great man entirely.</p> - -<p>“Great Heaven! Just what I thought. She’s steaming right into it! -Call the destroyer Woodruff immediately and stand by to send this; -my code number, precedence of everything!”</p> - -<p>The operator’s face went blank at the thought.</p> - -<p>“Destroyer Woodruff? Sorry, sir. Can’t pick her up. Been trying for -an hour. Wireless must be out of commission.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t pick— My God! Dead in her course, too!” The flush of -excitement on the commandant’s stern face had paled. “Call again, -man! Keep on calling, and don’t stop!”</p> - -<p>The tenseness was broken by the flashing crackle which streamed -again from the sender. The commandant waited, tapping his foot in -his agitation. Into his ferment Rankin with all his inexperience of -official propriety intruded.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, sir. May I ask what is the trouble?”</p> - -<p>“Eh, what!” The commandant looked at him blankly for a moment. Then -indignation added to his nervous irritation. “What the— Your -curiosity is out of place, <i>Ensign</i> Rankin.”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me. <i>My ship, sir.</i>” Rankin said it with a feeling of pride, -as though it conferred a right upon him.</p> - -<p>“Your—ah, yes. And you missed her! Well, sir, <i>your ship is steaming -into a whole fleet of submarines</i>! That’s the trouble. Five of them; -or maybe ten, or a hundred, as far as we can make out from these -confounded code flashes.”</p> - -<p>“Whe-e-ew!” The wireless operator whistled his startled amazement -before he remembered that he was merely a machine who heard nothing -and knew nothing of what passed in that little electric-charged -room, a highly sensitized automaton, bound by many oaths to eternal -dumbness; then he hid his confusion under the crisp hissing of his -key.</p> - -<p>Rankin echoed his whistle. But his was a personal interest. There -was a danger; and he thought somehow that he ought to be there to -share it. “His ship” had taken a definite meaning in his mind. In -the strained silence which followed, broken only by the intermittent -crackling calls into the void, he pictured her rushing into the -peril, all unwarned and unsuspecting. Vaguely the commandant’s voice -came to him, talking to the operator seemingly out of the distance.</p> - -<p>“It is imperative to communicate. We <i>must</i> get in touch.”</p> - -<p>It woke him out of his abstraction with a start. A wild idea had -begun to take shape in his brain. Thoughtless of all pros and cons, -he grasped at it with enthusiasm. Eagerly he burst out:</p> - -<p>“How about an aeroplane, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Ha, an aeroplane!” With the exclamation the commandant’s face -cleared, and for a moment he contemplated the idea as an inspiration -of Providence. Then he shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Impossible! Why, man, the Woodruff is two hundred miles on her way -to Havana by now!”</p> - -<p>“I could make that easily, sir; I’ve flown more than that before -now.”</p> - -<p>“And if you should miss her?”</p> - -<p>“With a hydro, sir, I could come down alongside and be picked up.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, boy!” the commandant snapped testily at his thoughtless -enthusiasm. “I don’t mean that. Think, man, think. In any case, with -a sea running like to-day’s, you’d be smashed to splinters long -before you could ever be picked up. But what I mean is, suppose you -should miss her entirely?</p> - -<p>“From what I know of those things, your course is a matter of -guesswork, anyway, and you have to keep checking up by landmarks all -the time. Out at sea you’d lose yourself in ten minutes. And when -you’ve missed her, how are you coming back? Two hundred out and two -hundred back, to say nothing if another hundred or so lost in -overhauling her and scouting around. Why, man, there’s not a machine -in the service capable of making that. Certainly not without special -preparation. No, sir; the chance is too desperate for me to order -any man out on a thing like that.”</p> - -<p>Rankin’s enthusiasm, fell with a cruel slump, and all the happy -eagerness died out of his face. All these things he had overlooked -in the first flush of his inspiration; and they were all true, too.</p> - -<p>The older man, keen old veteran, with practised anticipation of all -possible eventualities, had put his finger with unerring accuracy on -each of the weak spots. Nor did he magnify their weakness at all. -The thing was desperate, a forlorn hope.</p> - -<p>Rankin turned them dully over in his mind, looking for a possible -saving clause, but not a one could he find. The eagerness then died -from his face. But slowly its place began to be taken by a cold -determination.</p> - -<p>“I—I’d like to volunteer, sir, anyhow—to convey a warning to my -ship.”</p> - -<p>“Hey, what? What’s that? You’d like to volunteer?” The snappy -irritation in the commandant’s voice was tempered with a sudden -human understanding. He looked with fierce appraisal into the pale, -hard-set face. The drama had crystallized down to just the two of -them, two strong men looking into each other’s wide eyes with a -single vital question-mark between them.</p> - -<p>The rest of the scene and the men in it were forgotten as far as -these two were concerned. But the others stood in strained, -expectant positions as though they had been frozen. The signaler -ceased from his incessant crackle to hang on the commandant’s words. -Twenty seconds—thirty—a full minute; and only the broken, noisy -breathing of somebody was heard. Then the commandant shook his head -slowly, regretfully.</p> - -<p>“Impossible, boy! I can’t do it! No, we must find some other way. -Besides”—there was a world of kindliness in the tone—“you see—I’m -sorry—but you’ve been officially declared ‘unfit for aviation.’ I -couldn’t let you go, even if I could contemplate your plan for a -second. No, no, my boy, I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>He walked slowly to the door. There he turned suddenly, and the -voice was snappily terse again.</p> - -<p>“Signaler! What have you stopped for? Keep calling, and don’t stop -for anything under any circumstances. If your wrist gives out, get a -relay; and let me know immediately as soon as you connect. -Immediately, by cycle orderly—Mr. Tracy, will you see to that? And -my compliments to the senior officers of the yard to confer with me -in my office immediately, please.”</p> - -<p>The officer of the watch saluted. The commandant strode from the -room. And in the immediately following swift bustle Rankin was the -only man with nothing on his hands.</p> - -<p>But his soul was full of bitter disappointment and heart-burning. -“Unfit!” The reminder was a cruel stab into his enthusiasm, however -kindly it had been put. He stood inertly, wrestling with bitter -indecision for whole minutes, and then a queer expression, half -smile half grimness, stole slowly over his face and he crept out of -the room.</p> - -<p>His next movements certainly looked like desertion, urged by -desperation and tinged with madness. For, once out of the -radio-room, he raced about the yard like one demented. To the sacred -precincts of the instrument-room he rushed, and, making some wild -explanation to the man in charge, he removed therefrom several of -the neat leather cases of queer shapes. Another swift foray procured -him a chart. In like manner he <i>borrowed</i> a car from the long, -neatly parked line of officers’ private conveyances. Whose it was he -didn’t know, and he didn’t care; only he took the one which seemed -to give promise of the greatest speed.</p> - -<p>Within five minutes of the commandant’s decision he was disobeying -for the second time that day his orders to confine himself to the -yard. Disobeying with speed and violence, for he was shooting down -the long concrete road which led to the main gate like a dark-red -shell.</p> - -<p>Senior Lieutenant Tracy, the officer of the watch, became aware of -the thing hurtling down upon him, and he jumped angrily aside. What -fool was breaking yard regulations like that? He recognized Rankin -as he whizzed past, and remembered the commandant’s order. He called -wildly after him, but Rankin never swerved an inch. Bent low over -the wheel, he fired himself at the gate. Officers’ cars, of course, -were never questioned. The gate opened with profane promptness, and -Rankin whirled out of his prison. Ten minutes later he was roaring -down the road which pointed like a long, straight tape line to -Atlantic City.</p> - -</div> -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>IV.</h2> - -<p>At Atlantic City, on the beach, opposite to the newest -ten-million-dollar hotel, stood a huge tent of unusual shape, guyed -down and double guyed with wire cable for security. Its occupant and -owner was viewing with critical satisfaction the beautiful, -wide-winged flying-boat which balanced so gracefully on its truck, -stretching from one far canvas wall right across to the other, when -he was suddenly overwhelmed by a breathless young man in a dusty -uniform who demanded fiercely:</p> - -<p>“Jim, I want you to <i>give</i> me your bus right away.”</p> - -<p>This Jim was another of those men whose nerves do not start at -sudden and unexpected happenings.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “Want to go joy riding?” And he -held out his hand.</p> - -<p>“No, no, you don’t understand,” the other panted. “I want you to -give it to me—to wreck!”</p> - -<p>Jim’s voice became serious, though the slow smile never left his -face. He seated himself methodically on a tool-box.</p> - -<p>“Button off the power, Jack; come to earth and tell us all about -it,” he said quietly.</p> - -<p>Jack told him, in fierce sentences and few.</p> - -<p>“So, you see, Jim, it’s make or break,” he concluded, “and we’ve got -no time to lose. Come on!”</p> - -<p>Jim sat solid on his tool-box.</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, Jack,” he said soberly. “This is a big thing you’re -asking me. There’s ten thousand dollars gone into this outfit, and -it’s all I’ve got in the world; it’s my last stake. Half of it’s not -mine, anyhow. I had to get backing, and it’s not nearly paid off.</p> - -<p>“This passenger work isn’t the gold-mine any more that it used to -be; I can’t charge these summer sports more than fifteen dollars a -jump; upkeep is something fierce; and I’m still in the hole for -about three thousand bucks. I figured to clear by the end of the -season.”</p> - -<p>“But don’t you see, Jim,” Rankin appealed piteously, “it’s the only -way! And she’s running right into deadly danger! My ship! A United -States fighting-ship, Jim. And—and—” His voice trailed away -searching hopelessly for something to say, some conclusive argument -that would accomplish his purpose.</p> - -<p>Jim sat motionless. His face had the torn, introspective expression -of Rodin’s “Thinker.” Presently his voice came in a ruminative -monotone through lips that scarcely opened:</p> - -<p>“And Uncle Sam needs his ships mighty bad just now, eh?” Then -suddenly: “Hell!” he shouted, and jumped to his feet. “Damn our old -uncle, anyway! Stick your head out of the flap and holler for my -mechanics.”</p> - -<p>Rankin jumped at him with both hands outstretched.</p> - -<p>“Jim! I knew you’d do it! You’re white all through!”</p> - -<p>“Aw, hell,” muttered Jim again with gruff discomfort, pushing him -off. “Get busy and fill up that gas-tank to the last drop you can -make her hold, while I get into my helmet and togs.”</p> - -<p>“Your togs! What d’you want your gear for?”</p> - -<p>Jim’s jaw was thrust out with belligerence.</p> - -<p>“If Uncle Sam needs you on this job,” he said doggedly, “he needs -me, too. This is a two-man stunt. Shut up now, and beat it.”</p> - -<p>The next few minutes were a whirlwind of strenuous effort, -punctuated with snapped question and fired-back answer and swift -directions to the sweating mechanics. Under their practised handling -the machine was ready for its great task in record time.</p> - -<p>“I swiped a Sperry synchronized driftset and compass from the yard, -Jim,” panted Rankin.</p> - -<p>“You did!” shouted Jim, and his face lit. “That’s the first slim -chance I see, then, of our picking up your darned ship. Mighty like -hunting the needle in the haystack anyway. How far’s she out?”</p> - -<p>“Commandant said two hundred miles.”</p> - -<p>“Good stuff! If any bus in the country can do it, mine will. She -makes just over the hundred per hour, and she’s fitted with every -mechanical improvement there is.”</p> - -<p>There was a note of regretful farewell in the tone. He had been very -proud of his machine; and she certainly was the acme of American -aeronautic skill.</p> - -<p><i>Stagger</i>, she had, and <i>dihedral</i>, and <i>retreat</i>, mystic -technicalities of wing construction which came very near to -realizing the dreamer’s goal of automatic stability. Control wires -had a safety factor of eight. There was a dashboard before each of -the dual control yokes dotted with a maze of glass-dialed -instruments.</p> - -<p>The two seats were tandem, with telephonic communication so that the -occupants could converse above the roar of the engine. Nothing, in -fact, which might contribute to speed and safety and accuracy had -been omitted. And now—she was going out into the approaching night -beyond her capacity of return, like a swimmer who swims out to sea -beyond the limit of his strength. No wonder that the owner swore at -his old Uncle Sam even while he made his gift.</p> - -<p>On the beach, where the great machine floated like some graceful, -swift storm petrel, Jim suddenly pushed Rankin to the rear seat.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Rankin hurriedly. “Aren’t you going to -fly her?”</p> - -<p>“Nope,” said Jim with determination. “’S your job. You’re a better -flier anyway. Me for the instruments. I’ve been boning up a lot on -this new dope about wave crest length and wind ratio and bomb -dropping and all. Kinder hoped to get a commission myself—once; -but—hell! Hop in and make your tests. If I’m in on this funeral I’m -going to phone good-by to the girl.”</p> - -<p>Then for the first time did Rankin remember his girl, and her trust, -and his promise, and what it meant between him and her.</p> - -<p>He hesitated a moment; he, too, would have liked to telephone. For -he was very human and just then some mysterious providence or other -which looks after those who strive with a great purpose flashed to -him a vague realization of his own weakness. Telephoning, the voice -on the wire, with its note of appeal from the purely personal view -point of the woman who waited, might undermine that high resolve. He -set his teeth and climbed into the seat ready for action.</p> - -<p>With lips hard pinched, he tested his controls to see that -everything was running smoothly. He tested the Christensen -self-starter. With an explosive whir the propeller caught up the -ignition. He ran the engine at idling speed, watching his oil -pressure and water gages for free feeding. Everything ran with the -smoothness of a fine watch.</p> - -<p>Jim came running.</p> - -<p>“Give her the gun!” he shouted, hurling himself into his seat.</p> - -<p>Rankin pulled back the throttle lever. With a roar the propeller -took up its speed; the tachometer dial jumped to fifteen thousand -revolutions; and the beautiful great bird glided out from the shore, -trusting to fate to attain its purpose.</p> - -<p>Rankin pulled tentatively on the elevator control. The machine -answered beautifully; lifted at once to its planing angle and -skimmed the surface. Rankin hauled back, on the control.</p> - -<p>“How does she climb?” he asked into the telephone mouthpiece which -rose from his chest.</p> - -<p>“’Bout six hundred,” came the muffled reply from the observer’s seat -in front. “Let her go.”</p> - -</div> -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>V.</h2> - -<p>The great adventure had commenced. Half an hour had sped since one -impetuous fanatic had charged into the tent and persuaded the other -to race out with him and offer up possibly their lives and certainly -the machine in their wild quest of service to their so much berated -Uncle Sam. Only half an hour! But in view of the ship that was -rushing inexorably on into it knew not what, a priceless thirty -minutes.</p> - -<p>The machine hurtled ahead into the dark cloud bank, dipping and -swaying and yawing like an instruction flight. Rankin was “feeling -out ” the little individual peculiarities of the machine which was -new to him.</p> - -<p>Presently he settled down to a long steady climb up to his traveling -level which he proposed, to make about five thousand feet in order -to hold as wide a range of vision from the height as the heavy -atmosphere would permit of. His face was very grim and stern; he was -making no mistakes about the percentage of chances which were out -against him.</p> - -<p>“What d’you need for setting your course?” he spoke shortly into the -mouthpiece.</p> - -<p>“Where’s your ship?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say; don’t know her speed. Commandant said two hundred, and -she’s made maybe forty or fifty since.”</p> - -<p>“How in blazes are we going to find the blasted tub then?” Jim was -feeling subconsciously the loss of ten thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>“Say she’s making twenty, and we approximate a hundred, we ought to -overhaul her in about three hours at the outside. Lay off her course -on the chart from Philly to Havana; get on to it and take a high -level after her.”</p> - -<p>For ten minutes there was silence while Jim scribbled frantically -with his pencil and the great machine roared and throbbed all round -them. Finally:</p> - -<p>“Huh,” came a grunt. “’Bout thirty miles out, and then south by east -and keep guessing for luck.”</p> - -<p>Rankin watched his clock for eight more minutes with infinite care, -for when one is hurtling through the air at a hundred miles an hour -delay means more than a little difference. Then he banked sharply -over and swung round.</p> - -<p>“Ought to be on her tail now,” he muttered. “Now figure drift and -give me my variation.”</p> - -<p>Technical sounding-stuff, but easy of explanation. Just as a boatman -rowing across a tide rip has to point the nose of his boat several -degrees into the current in order to hold a straight course for the -desired landing, so an aeroplane rushing through a cross wind must -“crab” sometimes.</p> - -<p>Easy of explanation; but for an aeroplane flying over water with no -landmarks to guide, a considerable calculation. And time! Every -minute of time counted so vitally! To arrive at a correct conclusion -many factors had to be taken into consideration, the least error in -the smallest of which would mean many miles of difference.</p> - -<p>The main factors, of course, were actual speed through the air and -wind speed. The first was easy; an instrument gave it. But wind -speed? On the ground, stationary, an instrument could give that too; -but at five thousand feet in the air it had to be calculated. To do -that one had to know the approximate length between the crests of -the waves; and to approximate that, one had to know the exact -height.</p> - -<p>Suddenly an explosive snarl came from in front.</p> - -<p>“Curse it! In the hurry I forgot to adjust my altimeter to sea -level.”</p> - -<p>Without a word Rankin pushed the control over into a steep dive. -Within a few feet of the surface he “flattened,” and on receiving a -confirmatory grunt he lifted the machine into another long climb.</p> - -<p>Presently:</p> - -<p>“Wave length twenty feet—gives velocity fifteen decimal four. Fierce -for a landing.”</p> - -<p>“Pitot tube gives a clear hundred and four miles per. Work it out.”</p> - -<p>Came a whole series of grunts; and presently the movable lubber line -on the dial of the Sperry, which was synchronized with the drift -indicator in the observer’s hand in the front seat, began to swing -round.</p> - -<p>Rankin followed it with a sigh of thankfulness and a prayer for luck -and settled down to a long steady grind of keeping her nose down to -it. No easy matter in a high gusty wind; and a few points deviation -meant so many priceless minutes lost at this critical time.</p> - -<p>Two hours passed; and as the work became mechanical, Rankin’s -thoughts turned inevitably to the girl. What would she say? How -would she regard his fall from his promise? How could he ever make -her see the thing as it was?</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha!” He barked a short laugh. Fool! Very possibly there never -would be any occasion for an explanation. He glued his eyes down to -the lubber line and followed it as it shifted from one side to the -other as the observer recalculated and checked up his figures from -time to time.</p> - -<p>But his thoughts kept coming back to torture him. The girl; always -the girl. The imminent chance of coming down somewhere in the ocean, -helpless, with gas all expended, and being battered to a wreck in a -minute found no place in his mind. Suddenly the grumbling voice came -across and woke him to action.</p> - -<p>“Smoke on the port bow; three points.”</p> - -<p>Rankin’s heart jumped up into his mouth and he peered through his -windshield. Then he shot the machine down for the thin smudge across -the horizon like a swooping eagle.</p> - -<p>Five minutes; ten minutes. He could see Jim leaning out from his -seat with the Zeiss prism glasses to his eyes. Jim waved an arm -wildly to the right and ducked back into his hole.</p> - -<p>“Blasted United Fruit boat.”</p> - -<p>Grimly, without a word again, Rankin swung back and climbed on his -course. After many minutes he spoke tersely, without emotion.</p> - -<p>“Jim. Suppose we find her—and the waves smash us before she can pick -us up. Better write a note; make a package. Maybe we can drop it.”</p> - -<p>“Huh! If we find her we’ve been doing some flying, lemme tell you.”</p> - -<p>But Rankin knew in the silence that Jim was scribbling furiously.</p> - -<p>Dusk began to come. Rankin unconsciously began to strain his eyes -over his wind-shield as though he had to rely on himself alone. -Suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Smoke! Way over starboard!”</p> - -<p>Instantly Rankin dived for it with a quickening of the pulse. -Testily the voice came.</p> - -<p>“Hey! Not that, you goat. Farther over. Heavy stuff; looks like a -mile of cloud bank.” In a few more minutes: “Yes, that’s the -one—lower; can’t make her out; she’s smothered.”</p> - -<p>After a strained period again, in snappy intervals, but in a -passionless monotone:</p> - -<p>“Two master—some speeder—but she’s steaming up and down and around -and cutting all sorts of fancy patterns—dive to it son! Destroyer, -making knots!”</p> - -<p>Rankin dove. All he said was:</p> - -<p>“Get your package ready.”</p> - -<p>But in his heart was an exultant thankfulness that he had arrived in -time to warn “his ship.” In a few more minutes he was able to -distinguish her himself, smothering herself in foam and black -columns of smoke as she smashed her sharp nose into the high-running -waves. He could make out the short stumpy signaling masts, the -torpedo tubes, the quick, rapid-firing guns, and—</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was more smoke! Not from the low, raking funnels, but -from the starboard quarters! Then a sharp puff! And then another! -And then a spitting stream! At the same instant came Jim’s voice, -vibrant and tense; and Rankin could feel through the micrometer that -even that passionless man was excited at last.</p> - -<p>“They’ve got her, by God!”</p> - -<p>Rankin gripped the wheel and leaned forward as though he could by -sheer muscular effort impart a yet greater speed to the hurtling -machine. Then again the wire-drawn voice:</p> - -<p>“Jack, it’s God’s luck! Under my—under your seat there’s another -kind of package. Been doing some hand-bomb practise on a raft, and -there’s two or three left! Was going out again to-morrow. Can you -reach? Can you steer her?”</p> - -<p>Rankin’s heart leaped with a wild exhilaration of sudden battle. -“Steer her with my feet,” he hissed back, and he groped below the -seat.</p> - -<p>“To the right!” came a yell which jarred his ear-drums.</p> - -<p>Rankin peered over the edge of the fuselage. At first he saw nothing -but surging whitecaps; and then, cutting through them at a long -slant from one gray patch of water to another, he discerned a thin -streak which left ripples behind it like the fin of a shark.</p> - -<p>Without any definite idea of what he was to do he swooped down for -it like a giant fish hawk. Then he saw that all round it there kept -rising an erratic shower of fountains of high-flung spray which -repeated themselves half a mile farther on, and then repeated again, -and again at lessening intervals.</p> - -<p>But the phenomenon conveyed nothing to him, and he continued to rush -on into the danger zone and noticed only that the ship had turned -almost like a rabbit and was charging down on the same object at the -same time.</p> - -<p>“To the left!” came another ear-splitting yell.</p> - -<p>Rankin snatched a hurried glance from the shark to look over his -shoulder. There, within three hundred yards of him a long gray whale -was emerging. There, was something he could see, something he could -aim at. Instantly he banked over so that one wide wing-tip skimmed -the wave crests, and hurled himself at it. Almost before he had -regained his equilibrium he was above. His arm flashed over the side -and heaved a conical black object clear of the wing, and then he was -over.</p> - -<p>There was a giant splash, and:</p> - -<p>“Missed her!” yelled Jim, hopping in his seat to face backward.</p> - -<p>Rankin spat a terrible oath through his grim set teeth and wheeled -over again on a sixty degree slant. As he came round he could see -that the whale was hurriedly submerging again. The next second he -snatched another black shape from its resting place between his -knees and flung it out, well forward. It passed from his view -immediately.</p> - -<p>He saw Jim’s arms go up with an exultant yell; and the same instant -a terrific blast of hot air from behind him kicked the tail of the -machine up with a resistless suddenness which drove its nose down at -a steep angle for the water. At that height there was no possibility -of regaining control. In a second there was a tearing, foaming -smash, and Rankin was hurled forward onto the wheel with the force -of his own suddenly arrested momentum!</p> - -</div> -<div class='chapter'> -<h2>VI.</h2> - -<p>Here was one test of the born aviator. Presence of mind. Rankin did -not hold wildly on to everything within reach to save himself from -falling; his first instinct was to fling himself clear from the -entangling brace wires. Though he was under water and half -smothered, he kept in mind the most open way out, and within the -half minute he struggled out onto the limp wreckage of what had once -been a lower wing plane. Jim was already crawling up onto an upper -surface.</p> - -<p>“Hell!” was his greeting. “Guess I’ll earn no more toward that three -thousand out of her. Come on up, the view is fine. This side isn’t -smashed up so terribly, and there’s air enough in the camber spaces -to keep her afloat for a long while yet.”</p> - -<p>Rankin climbed up and joined him on his sagging raft, careful not to -put his foot through the fabric. The whale was gone utterly! So were -all the shark fins. At least, they could see none from their rocking -perch. The dominant thought that had impelled him for so long was -still uppermost in Rankin’s mind.</p> - -<p>“Good stuff!” he kept muttering. “Great! Now’s her time to get away. -Why don’t she turn and make a blue streak?”</p> - -<p>Their own plight remained in the background of his mind, to be taken -out and dealt with after other more important matters had been -settled.</p> - -<p>But the United States Destroyer Woodruff was showing no desire to -get away. Instead, she rushed back and forth and up and down like a -questing terrier and every now and then she barked viciously as one -gun crew or another fired at anything which appeared to them to have -the remotest chance of being a shark’s fin.</p> - -<p>For a full half hour she hunted, and then at slower speed she -steamed for the soggy, slowly sinking raft. With navy smartness a -boat hit the water long before the ship had lost her way, and in a -few more minutes the two fanatics, nearly normal now, stood on the -heaving deck which rolled thirty degrees each way and felt to them -as solid as a city sidewalk.</p> - -<p>At the gangway a petty officer saluted them.</p> - -<p>“Cap’n’s compliments, sir. Waiting for you in his cabin, sir.”</p> - -<p>Rankin was surprised. He had looked for surprise from the other -side, but they seemed to have been expecting him.</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Commander Evans stood in his holy of holies, the -captain’s cabin. Ensign Rankin was quite normal by this time. That -is to say, he did not know exactly what navy etiquette demanded for -the occasion. He drew himself up stiffly, dripping sea water all -over the carpet, and saluted.</p> - -<p>“Report on board for duty, sir.”</p> - -<p>His commander gasped at the amazing young man. For the first time in -all his navy experience he did not know himself exactly what such an -occasion demanded. For a few minutes he said nothing; then, with a -dry smile:</p> - -<p>“H-m, yes; we heard all about you. Managed to pick up a wireless; -but I’m hanged if we ever expected to see you.” He broke into a grim -laugh. “Yes, we were surprised enough; but you must have looked like -the premeditated malice of the devil to those submersibles. It was -great work my boy, great. We’ll be sorry to lose you now.”</p> - -<p>“Lose me?” wondered Rankin.</p> - -<p>“Well,” Commander Evans spoke with slow deliberation. “I suppose -you’ll be reassigned to aviation after this. It’s not every day that -one saves a United States destroyer, you know.”</p> - -<p>Rankin’s heart jumped and he felt his color rising; and since it is -not seemly for an aviator to display emotion he saluted hastily and -turned to go. The deliberate voice stopped him.</p> - -<p>“Better put in a claim for that machine. Since she’s been in active -service I guess the navy’ll take her over.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir.” Again Rankin turned with his hand on the door-knob -lest his face should betray the double exultation in his soul.</p> - -<p>Once again that exasperating recall.</p> - -<p>“Oh, by the way; there was another wireless; private, for you; a -most insistent person.”</p> - -<p>Rankin wheeled in a flash. There is a limit to emotional -suppression. His commanding officer was holding out a long envelope -to him. Rankin took it with a haste which amounted almost to a -rudeness and tore it open with fingers that trembled unmanfully. The -first thing he looked for was the signature—Eileen! It loomed as big -as a theater advertisement.</p> - -<p>“Bully for both of you,” it read. “I know you’ll succeed.”</p> - -<p>Rankin waved it wildly over his head and whooped like a hysterical -Indian. It was a shameful display of emotion for an aviator, and a -most improper action for an ensign in his commander’s private cabin. -But Lieutenant Commander Evans only smiled.</p> - -<div class='tn'> - <p style='text-indent:0'>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the December 29, 1917 issue of <i>The Argosy</i> magazine.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CHANCE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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