THE NARROW ESCAPE.
"It has been a leak, for even now it is dripping down!" exclaimed the
French aviator, pointing his finger at the bottom of the petrol tank.
Pudge and Billy held their breath. Everything would depend on Frank, who
must know what was best to do. They might plane downward, and manage to
make some sort of a landing, but that would mean capture by the enemy.
The presence of the French aviator would bring the wrath of the Germans
down on the heads of the boys, and as a result they would be made
prisoners of war.
Not only that must follow, but the precious seaplane would fall into the
hands of the Kaiser's men. Such a possibility could never be endured. M.
Le Grande would be ready to try something desperate before such a
catastrophe could be countenanced.
Frank had to do some pretty swift thinking. Fortunately he was not the
one to lose his head in the presence of unexpected danger.
"We must make a furious attempt to get across the fighting line, which
is some miles away from here at La Basse!" he exclaimed. "When we
descend, it will be in the rear of the British forces, where we can be
safe!"
"Let her go, Frank!" said Billy excitedly.
"Yes, for all she's worth!" added poor Pudge, as well as he could, for
his trembling lips made any sort of utterance difficult.
Frank had not waited for this to turn on all power. At the time of the
discovery, with regard to the loss of their precious liquid fuel, the
seaplane had been headed just right, so all that appeared necessary was
increased motion.
The motors responded to the call upon their reserve powers. Again, with
muffler cut-out wide open, and the green fire issuing from the exhausts
amidst a roaring sound, they rushed through space.
What speed they were making none of them thought to notice by glancing
at the aërial speed meter, but it must have been something like ninety
miles an hour at the very least, possibly much more.
Here was another supreme test which the French aviator must be sure and
take note of. He did not show any particular signs of alarm, though he
was plainly excited.
Everyone was gazing ahead, their only aim being that they speedily
arrive at the line where the gray-clad Germans were standing off the
khaki-clothed soldiers of King George.
Such was the state of their nerves, that seconds seemed to drag like
minutes. Billy was trying the best he could to focus his glasses so as
to announce the glad tidings that they were rapidly nearing their goal;
but he found it hard work because of the shaking of the seaplane under
the forced pressure.
"It's there just ahead of us, Frank!" he finally shouted. "Keep her
going only a little while longer, and we'll be all right!"
"Hurrah!" cried Pudge, rather feebly it must be confessed, for the wind
fairly took his breath away.
Frank had not only kept straight on but at the same time he was
commencing to head downward. There was a strong possibility that at any
second the motors might refuse to work, being deprived of their feed,
and in consequence the big seaplane would have to start earthward by the
method popularly known as volplaning.
When reduced to that method of landing, Frank wanted to be as well down
as he could with safety allow the seaplane to drop. What little danger
they risked of being struck by some shot sent by the astonished Germans
was not worth while considering. The great speed they were making would
in itself serve to protect them from this threatening evil.
It was a critical moment for the aëroplane boys, and one that none of
them would be likely to forget soon. They could notice that the rattle
of the exhaust was growing more and more deadened. That told them the
end was very near and then the last feeble effort of the motors would
end in a total collapse.
"A pint of gasoline would see us through with flying colors!" exclaimed
Billy.
"Just to think of it," cried Pudge dismally, as though the thought of
falling into the hands of the Germans and being treated as a prisoner of
war filled his heart with dismay.
"On! on! keep her going, young m'sieu!" almost shrieked the Frenchman,
as he half stood up in his great excitement, and turned his gaze from
Frank to the prospect before them.
Frank had changed his plan of action. He no longer pushed the motors to
their utmost. The muffler, too, now shut off those spiteful looking
greenish flames, and the rattle was silenced.
In truth, Frank, in the belief that if they could only keep afloat,
their momentum would be sufficient to carry the seaplane across the line
of trenches, was trying to conserve every atom of power. He asked
nothing more than this, and would be willing to take his chances of
making a fairly successful landing, though a craft of that description
was never intended to start or finish a voyage save on the water.
Pudge became more alarmed, now that the shrill clatter of the exhaust
had been silenced, for unlike Billy he had not grasped just why this had
come about.
"Oh! will we make it, Frank?" he cried in an agony of fear.
"I think so," the pilot told him steadily.
"But she's swaying right now as if ready to give up the ghost and drop!"
Pudge complained in a strained voice. "That rattle has stopped. Why is
that, Frank?"
"I did it so as to keep what energy we've got as long as we can," he was
told.
"We're doing nobly, young m'sieu!" called out M. Le Grande.
"Yes, there are the trenches just ahead of us!" added Billy. "Listen to
the rattle of rifles, will you? And I can hear cheers too, hearty
English cheers. See them jumping up in plain sight and waving to us,
boys! A little further, Frank, and you can volplane if it's necessary,
because we'll have crossed the line and be in safety."
But the puttering of the motors told that they had arrived at the last
stage of labor. A gas engine cannot run without fuel of some sort, and
the vapor now being fed was of an inferior quality, so that the energy
became less and less.
They were at this critical time almost directly over the German
trenches, and so close that they could see the soldiers pointing up at
them, even without the use of field glasses or binoculars.
"Oh! did you hear that bullet hum past then?" ejaculated Pudge, who had
ducked his head in an involuntary way as though he would avoid contact
with the random lead, just as some nervous people start with each flash
of lightning.
Other missiles were also winging along through space, showing that the
seaplane, in its mad race for a safe landing, must have already
descended a considerable distance under Frank's manipulation.
Strange what queer thoughts will flash into the mind when under such a
stress as this. Frank afterward laughed to remember how he was
determining then and there, that if ever he had occasion to make another
aërial voyage above hostile armies, where he might be subject to a
bombardment, one of the things he meant to see about before starting was
that he carried a bullet-proof petrol reservoir along with him.
Suddenly the motors ceased working, as the supply of gas came to an
abrupt end. They were by now over the British trenches, where the men
were shouting all kinds of hoarse salutes, though compelled to again
hastily seek shelter in their pits, as the Germans had opened fire on
them.
Frank had but one way open to him in order to reach the ground. This was
to volplane swiftly, as he had many a time done after shutting off all
power, and when a certain distance from the earth, by suddenly working
his planes, cause the aircraft to assume a horizontal position instead
of a vertical one, after which would come the straight drop.
Just what sort of a jar must accompany the landing would depend, in a
great measure, on the distance they were up at the time, and the skill
shown by the pilot in managing these things.
It is always deemed a spectacular method of descending from an upper
level, and not as dangerous as it may appear to those who are unfamiliar
with the working of aircraft. Frank had practiced it many a time, and in
an ordinary aëroplane, with its rubber-tired wheels to run along the
ground, would have thought nothing of it. When he had to land with a
seaplane, never meant for such a purpose, it was a "horse of another
color," and might be considered a very ticklish job.
The ground seemed to be rushing up to meet them as they fell. Pudge
shrank back as though he could already feel the terrible shock of the
contact, should they continue to make that swift downward progress.
But Frank was ready to change the planes, and in this manner alter the
conditions. They would act as a stay, and bring their headlong rush
earthward to an end. After that it would simply be a dead weight drop,
and perhaps not so hard as to smash anything about the seaplane beyond
repairing.
Before Pudge had time to take another full breath it was all over. They
had swept down beyond a low hill, on top of which stood one of the
windmills so often seen in Holland, Belgium and Northern France, with
its broad arms standing motionless, and the tower showing signs of
having been struck by more than one solid shot during some tempestuous
battle for the rise.
With slackening speed, the seaplane followed the descent, and then came
to almost a full stop at its base. After that it dropped straight to the
ground.
The shock proved to be rather severe, and Pudge was even jolted from his
seat, falling in a heap close by. Frank jumped out and was immediately
followed by Billy and the French air pilot, all of them perhaps
considerably shaken, but apparently none the worse for the rough
experience.
Frank first of all sprang over to where Pudge was wallowing. The fat boy
sat up just as Frank reached his side.
"I hope you're not hurt much, Pudge?" cried the pilot of the _Sea
Eagle_, as he hurriedly bent over to assist his chum to gain his feet.
Pudge started to feel himself all over. He ran his hands along his fat
sides, and then down each leg; after which he proceeded to announce the
result.
"Nope, don't seem to have any serious contusions or broken bones that
I've been able to find. Guess I'm all whole, Frank, as I hope the rest
of you are. But how about the poor old _Sea Eagle_; is she smashed
beyond repair, do you think, Frank?"
"I haven't taken a look at her so far," the other told him. "What little
damage may have been done can be easily repaired, once we get her taken
by wagon to our hangar at Dunkirk."
[Illustration: "We're being fired on.... Try and find shelter if you
can, Billy!"--Page 251.]
"Good enough!" cried Pudge. "I was worrying more over the seaplane than
about myself, I do declare. When we can get in touch with the commander
at this section of the British forces, we might be able to commandeer
some sort of wagon on which the machine can be packed, after we've taken
it to pieces, and transported it to town. Our good friend, M'sieu Le
Grande can tell them the plane now belongs to the French Government, and
that a heap depends on its being taken to Dunkirk."
As they reached the spot where the big seaplane lay like a wounded bird,
it was to see the Frenchman and Billy come crawling out from under the
wings.
"What's the extent of the damage?" asked Frank immediately.
Before Billy could start explaining, there was a sharp sound heard, and
Frank actually felt the wind of a bullet whizzing past his cheek.
"Duck down everybody!" he exclaimed, suiting his actions to the words,
and pulling Pudge after him. "We're being fired on by somebody concealed
in that old windmill base over there. Try and find shelter if you can,
Billy!"