JIM STARTS OFF.
The great plain stretched away in the sunlight, broken only by the
silver line of the little Avon river and the Downs--like giant
molehills--to the north.
It was early morning, but all was activity and bustle at Netheravon.
The great rows of "hangars" gleaming in the bright sunshine were already
open, and groups of men--mechanics and cleaners--were busy on the
aeroplanes they contained.
A group of officers of the Royal Flying Corps was gathered around a
monoplane that had been run outside, and was being tuned up by a number
of mechanics.
The two or three civilians with note-books in their hands were evidently
pressmen. Something unusual was afoot, for half a dozen horsemen had
just cantered into the aerodrome and, dismounting, approached the little
crowd round the monoplane.
Suddenly it opened out and the group of officers saluted the smart,
iron-featured, white-haired veteran who approached with a slight limp,
his beribboned coat eloquent of hard service to the wealthy citizens of
a thankless nation who greedily devour the spoils that they are too lazy
in lending a hand in obtaining.
"Good-morning, gentlemen. Is Lieutenant Crichton here?"
Jim stepped forward and saluted. He was in service dress, with a safety
helmet in place of the usual forage cap.
"Well, I hope the weather is satisfactory, Crichton?" the Chief said.
"Yes, sir, thank you; it is a perfect day for a flight."
The General then asked several technical questions about the monoplane.
"You are taking a passenger with you, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
The General turned away, and Crichton saluted. Quite a number of people
were arriving from every direction, and it had evidently become
generally known that a special flight was about to be attempted.
Meanwhile the monoplane was ready. Jim climbed into his seat and
started the engine. In a few moments he gave the signal to let go, and
after running along the ground for a short distance, it gracefully rose
in the air and was soon far over the plain. Suddenly it dipped and
began to descend.
"By Jove, he's coming down. Something wrong--look! He's hit the
ground--see the dust?" And similar exclamations rose from the crowd.
"Take my car, Johnson, and see what's wrong, will you?" said the Flight
Commander--and in a moment the car was speeding across the plain.
"Look! Look!" shouted some one. "See the dust he's making!" In
another moment the monoplane was seen in the air.
"By Jove, he's up again. Splendid! That's the first time this machine
has left the ground single-handed, I'll bet. He's coming back."
In a minute or two the aeroplane began to descend. It brought up nearly
on the spot it had started from.
Jim clambered down, and to the volley of questions from his brother
officers merely explained that he had dropped his note-book, and had
descended to pick it up.
"Look here, Major," Jim said to the Commandant. "I want to take my
servant, Jackson, instead of young Hayward, but I don't like to tell him
myself. Will you break it to him gently?"
"Good lord, Crichton, why on earth did you not say so before? Why do
you prefer Jackson?"
"I shall have a much better chance with Jackson if I have to descend
with engine trouble, because he's a trained mechanic, as you know, while
young Hayward would be practically useless. I don't want to be stuck in
the middle of Dartmoor, you know!"
"All right, I'll tell him; but it's rather rough on him, all the same."
The Commandant strolled over to where Lieutenant Hayward was talking to
a few friends. As soon as he had gone, Crichton beckoned to his
servant.
"Jackson, have you put the things I told you in my kit-bag?"
"Yes, sir, and two of everything, sir. Shall I strap the bag on?"
"Yes, and you are to come with me; so get your helmet, quick."
Soon all was bustle and commotion. The crowd of officers and soldiers
and few civilians present made a wide semi-circle in the rear of the
monoplane.
"Good luck, old chap!" "Don't lose your way!" "Got your maps?" "Wire
us time of arrival!"--and a host of other remarks, mingled with chaff,
were drowned in the roar of the propeller as Jim started the engine. He
raised his hand and the great, bird-like aeroplane rushed forward and
almost at once began to rise.
Soon it grew smaller and smaller as the distance increased, and began to
curve to West as Jim set his course for Exeter.
The roar made by the engine of an aeroplane renders it impossible to
hear one's own voice, much less to speak to another; but all military
"two-seaters" are equipped with 'phones to enable the pilot and observer
to converse with ease.
Jim now pulled down the receiver and adjusted it over his helmet. "Look
here, Jackson! Do you know why I've taken you instead of Mr. Hayward?"
"No, sir."
"I'm going to trust you with a secret which, if you blab, will get me
into a big row."
"Very good, sir. I shan't talk, you know that, sir."
"Well, I have promised a great friend at home to give him a flight, and
I'm going to take him up to-day in your place--only as it is strictly
against the Royal Flying Corps regulations to take anyone on a Corps
machine, you must play up and not give the show away."
"Trust me for that, sir."
"My friend knows that he is to take your place--that is why I've put in
a second suit of clothes--and he has asked me to give you a fiver."
"Very much obliged, I am sure, sir."
"All right. That is why I told you to put a suit of your own uniform in
my bag. My friend will put on your uniform and will take your place.
You will have to be careful not to be seen in Plymouth till he has
changed at the hotel. I shall drop you at Exeter and you must go on to
Plymouth by train; take two rooms for me at the 'Duke of Cornwall,'
which is right against the station, and then hang about the place till I
arrive. If anyone questions you--which is unlikely--you must only say
that you are my mechanic from Salisbury. But don't you go near Crownhill
Barracks till after we have arrived; then you may go to the canteen and
'gas' as much about the flight as you like."
"Very good, sir; I quite understand. I'll slip off quietly at Exeter so
as not to be noticed."
For the next hour the steady hum of the great propeller was the only
sound heard by the airmen, but just as Crewkerne had been passed a new
note sounded--a steady umph! umph! umph! like the distant throbbing of a
drum.
"Jackson, do you hear that?"
"Yes, sir--cylinder misfiring?"
"We shall have to come down. What's that ahead?"
"Looks like another railway line, sir; and there is a town there, too--I
can make out houses with the glasses."
"That must be Chard. I shall come down when I see a good field."
The monoplane began to drop. Fields and hedges were plainly visible.
"Just put your glasses on to that big, green patch away to the right."
"Racecourse, sir. First-class landing by the looks of it."
The aeroplane banked steeply as Jim swung round to the right and
commenced to descend. He stopped the engine and the machine dived down
steeply, only to be checked as it neared the ground by a sudden rush of
the propeller again, which stopped when it had given the necessary
momentum. Now the wheels touched the turf as lightly as a bird, and
after running along the ground for a short distance, it stopped nearly
opposite the grand stand. Already people were running towards the
racecourse from every direction, and Jim realised that the chance of his
servant getting away unreported would be small.
"Look here, Jackson, you must go by the South Western to Exeter, then
change to the Great Western and book to Millbay station, Plymouth. When
I order you to meet me at Exeter, remember that is only a 'blind' for
any reporters who may see you go, so you must stick to the story that
you are meeting me there with more petrol. Understand?"
"All right, sir."
People began to arrive and questions were showered on Jim, who replied
good-humouredly, and warned each newcomer not to come too near as he was
about to start the engine again--a warning which was immediately
emphasised by the throb of the engine itself, as Jackson tested the
ignition.
"All right, sir."
Jim lit a cigarette, and taking a telegraph form from his pocket, wrote
out a message to his Commanding Officer and handed it to Jackson.
"Send this off at once and go on to Exeter by train. Have the petrol
ready there for me, and I'll pick you up at the place of which I told
you."
Jim said this in a voice which could be heard by every one present.
Then he climbed into his seat again.
"Stand back, please!" The crowd scattered, leaving a free run up the
course. A minute later the monoplane was speeding away over the
tree-tops and was soon lost to sight in the West.