THE CONTROL ROOM
Mr. Hammond had no occasion to worry over Dulcie’s welcome. After a
hearty laugh all round at her father’s expense, she became, as Doctor
Trigg said, “the child of the regiment.” Her sunny presence raised the
morale of the whole ship. Only Red groaned.
“We’ve got to keep topside-upside now, whatever happens,” he said.
Doctor Trigg took her under his special care, muttering to Doctor Sims,
“More youthful enthusiasm, my boy; more youthful enthusiasm! She wants
to fly, too, you see.”
“G-r-r-r-r bah!” replied Doctor Sims briefly.
Those of the passengers who were flying for the first time watched the
distant earth with fascinated and slightly worried eyes. They seemed
disinclined to leave the windows, and ate their excellent luncheon
without interest. By the time afternoon tea was served, however, they
apparently decided that the globe would not disappear if they failed to
keep a restraining gaze upon it, and talked gaily over the hot toast and
marmalade.
Radiograms had been sent ahead to Lakehurst, and answers received. They
were eagerly expected, but Mr. Hammond decided that their stop there
should be a very brief one.
Lakehurst, they found, when the ship slid into view above the field, was
at least ready with a noisy welcome. Whistles, horns and sirens tooted,
screeched and moaned. The landing crew ran out to secure the ropes, as
Captain Fraine eased her gracefully down. The steps were adjusted, and
the door of the passenger gondola was opened. The passengers, warned
that they must be on board again at eleven o’clock, stepped down, not
sorry to find terra firma actually under their feet again. A group of
officials and leading citizens welcomed Mr. Hammond and his officers,
and the ship was rapidly propelled into the big hangar, where the local
force of mechanics and engineers assisted the Moonbeam’s own crew in a
microscopic examination of every part. An extra amount of fuel and gas
was taken on, being stored in the place of ballast. An extra quantity of
dry ice was shipped, and all commissary stores checked up.
Time passed rapidly, and the passengers commenced to return, hurrying in
taxis and on foot. Mr. Hamilton’s secretary rushed ahead with a bundle
of telegrams; Doctors Trigg and Sims came with their arms full of papers
and magazines; a car whirled up, and the driver hurriedly approached
Dulcie just as she was about to mount into the gondola and handed her a
great box from the officers of the field. Long rose stems stuck
intriguingly out at one end.
“What has happened to Captain Fraine?” inquired David of Mr. Hammond as
they stood near the steps.
Looking very white, Captain Fraine approached. A couple of young
officers accompanied him. He held a bloodstained handkerchief to his
head but managed to laugh as he saw them.
“Not so bad as it looks, commander,” he said lightly.
“What happened?” demanded Mr. Hammond.
“They are doing some construction work back in the hangar,” one of the
strangers explained, “and something had loosened the supports of a
platform where some boards were lying. A two-by-four slipped off, and
came down and hit the captain here, right on the head. It might have
been pretty serious. It’s too bad.”
“It will be all right as soon as Dr. Forsythe puts a bit of plaster on
it. Don’t think of it.”
“We’ll get on board, and see the doctor at once,” advised Mr. Hammond.
“Go with him, David.”
Dr. Forsythe proceeded to examine the bump. It was a bad one, but the
skin was only slightly broken. He stopped the bleeding, and plastered it
up. Captain Fraine declared that he felt as good as new, and went
directly into the control room, while David returned to Mr. Hammond.
“Weren’t we to pick up Walter Cram here at Lakehurst?” he inquired.
“We were,” Mr. Hammond replied. “He has just five more minutes to get
here.”
“Well, looks like he’d made it, at that,” said David, as a taxi raced
up, stopped at the gate with a jolt, and an agitated figure leaped out
and hurried across the field, a suitcase in each hand. A minute later,
Cram stood smiling beside them, breathless but still self-assured.
“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long, commander,” he said
ingratiatingly.
On the stroke of twelve, with Lakehurst making all the noise it could,
the Moonbeam took off, and soon after the passengers retired, leaving
only the officers in charge to watch while she started over the high
sea.
Wednesday morning found everyone refreshed and enthusiastic. Dulcie’s
Lakehurst roses gave the salon a gala appearance. Below them the
Atlantic lay as smooth as a floor, the bright sun glistening on its
surface.
They had been flying very low. Two liners passed beneath them, and
saluted with puffs of fleecy smoke. In return the ship majestically
inclined her silver nose in a triple dip.
Later they gained altitude smoothly, and reached fifteen hundred feet.
Now little fleecy clouds met them and broke like foam on the prow. The
air was clear, the sun blinding. The passengers accepted the new
environment with ease. They read, slept, or wrote letters filled with
detailed descriptions.
David found it hard to absent himself from the control room for more
than a few minutes at a time, although with Captain Fraine in command
and Lieutenant Florsheim as second pilot, David had actually no more to
do than an observer, except for his turn at the wheel. Mr. Hammond came
in often, too. On one of his visits his eyes were attracted to Captain
Fraine as the young man pressed his palm to the top of his bandaged
temple.
“Is that troubling you, Fraine?” he inquired.
“It’s really all right,” replied Captain Fraine. “Just sore, and tender.
The plank hit me squarely on my old wound. The place has always been a
little troublesome. Worse in stormy weather, I notice. There’s a silver
plate in there, and I think it doesn’t fit very well. I mean to have it
looked after, sometime.”
“Better not neglect it,” advised Mr. Hammond.
“It really has never troubled me enough to speak of, but that board
would have given a good crack to a harder head than mine.”
“Well, don’t try to stand all the watches. Make these youngsters take
that wheel. Come back with me, and take it easy.”
“Thank you, sir, I will presently,” said the captain. He lifted a hand
toward his head again, but hastily withdrew it. David, watching him,
knew how he felt.
Back in the lounge, Dulcie was being entertained by Walter Cram. He was
telling her far too much, but he didn’t know it. His egotism, his silly
pride, his preposterous vanity ran over his narrative like an ugly
stain, and through it all a slimy envy of David that puzzled Dulcie. As
soon as she could, she left him and wandered around until she found Red
Ryan, busy with his eternal testing.
“Do you ever stop?” she asked.
“I don’t want to, Miss Hammond. I love it. Every time I try a screw or
test a wire, I think, ‘Here, you beauty, you can just depend on Red, who
loves you like a sweetheart, to keep you trim and true.’ And all my
fellas feel the same. We just love the Moonbeam, and what you feel love
for, turns toil into pleasure.”
“What a man you are!” said Dulcie warmly. “Tell me, do you always tell
the truth?”
“I try to,” said Red, looking puzzled.
Dulcie made the plunge.
“Well then, why does Mr. Cram hate David so?”
“My God!” exclaimed Red, dropping a wrench, “how did you discover that?”
“He’s been talking to me, about himself mostly, and he didn’t say a word
about David that you could pin to, but he hates him poisonously.”
“Honest, Miss Hammond,” said Red admiringly, “you are one smart girl.”
“Well, you know it, too.”
“I do so,” said Red, “but David doesn’t. Not he! He’s got more brains
and better, than anyone I know, but no common sense when it comes to
side-steppin’ a rattler.”
“But why? What’s the answer?” demanded Dulcie.
“How long have you known him?” hedged Red.
“Cram? Oh, two or three years. I used to go down to Princeton for dances
and whatnot. That’s where I first heard of David. The three men who
dragged me around to rabbles were friends of his at prep school.”
“Yeah, Butter Brown, and Len, and Smithy?”
“Right first time,” said Dulcie. “David has told you. Well, Wally tried
to give me a rush. Gee, he was a wet smack! And he wouldn’t take hints.
I was bored to tears, and the boys all offered to take him off and kill
him. But all that doesn’t explain why he has it in for David.”
“Visibility increasin’,” commented Red. “David doesn’t just shun you,
Miss Hammond. That wouldn’t just please Wally. But that’s only part of
it.”
Speaking in a low tone, he told her how, almost four years ago, David
had passed his entrance exams to the pilots’ school, while Cram had
failed. He told her a great deal about Wally, as man and boy.
“He’s not as bad as I make out, perhaps,” he finished, “but even as a
boy Wally always magnified every slight or injury to Mr. Walter Cram,
and retaliated on a big scale.”
“I think it’s a shame!” cried Dulcie. “It makes me have a horrid
feeling.”
“Well, we’ll just keep an eye out, and see what we see,” said Red as he
went off in search of a possible loose screw.
Dulcie liked Red. She liked his bright smile, and the twinkle in his
blue eyes. She didn’t care who he was, or whence he came. He was so
true, so merry, and so unassuming that he could be any man’s friend.
Yes, she liked Red, and she liked David. She certainly did like David.
During the lunch hour the Moonbeam sped smoothly along at an altitude of
one thousand feet. Dulcie declared that it was like being on an ocean
liner, only nicer. She proved a joy unspeakable to the young reporters,
the professors regarded her with apparent curiosity, and even Mr.
Hamilton induced her to talk to him a while. Tea-time was one of the
pleasantest hours of the day. No one suffered but Koko, the little dog,
who stuffed on cakes, and groaned for hours afterwards.
That night the company dispersed very early. The altitude, the crisp
untainted air and the novelty combined to make everyone sleepy. Mr.
Hammond was in the best of spirits. Tail winds had helped them on, they
had used all the engines, and were already three hours ahead of the
schedule of the Graf Zeppelin.
Thursday morning, the seventeenth of June, found the ship sailing
serenely along over a floor of heavy clouds. The sun shone brightly, and
the air was even, but there was a low humming in the wires that
disturbed David. He found Red in his cubicle, and told him that he
looked for a storm.
“Well, I’ve a prickling in my thumbs, too,” said Red. “And when it
comes, it’s going to be a wow. I think I’ll take a look over the old
boat and see that everything is ship-shape.”
He commenced to put on the smooth buttonless overalls which, with felt
shoes, were always worn by anyone moving about in the hull. They were
designed to prevent any scratching or tearing of the fabric of the gas
bags and air bags.
“God help the man at the head of a gang; he’s every man’s slave. My crew
is made up of fine efficient fellas, but this trip has gone to their
heads. As soon as they saw themselves crossin’ big water, they all took
out little notebooks from their kits, and commenced jottin’ down
‘experiences’.
“An’ when I said, ‘You blamed lunatics, what for is that?’ they told me
they were ‘writing it up for the papers at home’! Tryin’ to be a bunch
of Lindys, and Byrds, and Strassers. I simply said, ‘And have I
novelists, or have I mechanics, then?’”
David laughed and asked, “Got another ’all?”
He slipped into the garment Red threw him, and together they went up
into the hull.
That afternoon the motion of the ship became a little jerky; and David
and Red, on another inspection trip, had some trouble in making their
way over the bags, along the catwalk, and among the taut wires and
spanners. Occasionally they stood listening to the talk of the ship,
with its multitude of little mechanical noises which, to the educated
ear, was harmonious as an orchestra.
“Singin’ pretty, isn’t she?” Red said finally. “Hey, there, don’t that
wire just in front of us sag a bit?” He wormed his way over to the winch
and pulled up the offending brace, testing it until it sang softly.
“Now for the eggs full of engines,” he said, as he started back, David
following.
“Honestly, Red, all this isn’t your job,” protested David.
Red turned and stared deep into David’s eyes. For the first time David
saw pin points of flame in the blue depths. He spoke, and his voice
carried a new note.
“Any job’s my job, so be it’s for the Moonbeam. There’s going to be a
blow, Dave. We’re coming into wind. I have seen too many ‘northers’ in
Oklahoma to make any mistake. What I want to know is, why don’t they
radio the nearest station and see what weather’s scheduled ahead.”
“The receiver’s gone on the blink,” said David briefly. “That’s why they
didn’t get any messages through.”
“Saints keep us, that’s that!” muttered Red. “Well, let’s shove along. I
want to see what the engines are doing.”
They climbed down into the eggs, one by one, and Red’s keen eyes took
note of every part of the enormous throbbing engines, each controlled by
two earnest and keen-eyed engineers. A third man sat on a small stool,
always ready to stand by in case of trouble.
Later, as they entered the observation room, after removing their
overalls, Red grunted. “Everything looks okay,” he said, “but I wish
Miss Hammond was at home in her own house, instead of bummin’ along up
here a mile or so from anything more solid and endurin’ than a stiff
breeze.”
“You’re right,” said David. “Honest, Red, she is the nicest kid, and
such a good sport.”
“I think so,” said Red. “Gosh, did you feel the car shake then? We
struck a crack in the wind. Yep, Miss Hammond is the real thing, all
right. She is so nice to everybody. Why, she treats me just as good as
she does you, Dave.”
“Better!” assented David, bitterly. “Gosh, there’s another crack! Feel
her bounce!” He was flung against the nearest chair, where he clung for
support for a moment, until the ship again rode on an even keel. A
little tremor ran through the Moonbeam; she rolled a little. Several of
the passengers who were in the salon hurried to their cabins to rescue
small articles which might be broken in the event of rougher weather.
Others crowded close to the windows, watching the scudding clouds with
anxious faces.
Fifteen minutes passed, then the ship raised her nose, reared in a long
curve, and swooped downward. From the galley came the sound of breaking
dishes, followed by a yell of anguish from the cook. Flung into each
other’s arms, David and Red executed a clumsy dance about the room
before they could get their balance, as the ship righted and
straightened out again.
“Whew!” said Red, rubbing the back of his head where it had bumped
against a hook.
“Well, I don’t like that so well,” said David.
“I am going to take a squint at that weather chart, and then look at the
rear engine again,” said Red. “Coming?”
“Go on,” said David. “I’ll join you as soon as I put on another sweater.
I’m cold.” He turned and went into his cabin as Red hurried forward.
David had to unpack the sweater, but he didn’t hurry. He knew that
Fraine was on duty. He slipped on the heavy garment, then sauntered
toward the control room. As he approached it a yell broke through the
monotonous sounds of the gondola. A hoarse scream, another, and a
jabbering laugh. He ran into the control room, and for an instant stood
frozen by the sight that met his eyes.
The wheel was deserted but, caught by its stabilizing device, held the
ship on her course. On the floor, apparently dead, lay Lieutenant
Florsheim. Just beyond him lay Van Arden, a crumpled heap face down.
Captain Fraine, his face contorted in an expression of insane frenzy,
held Red Ryan by the throat against the wall with one hand, while he
poised a heavy wrench for a murderous blow with the other.
At David’s shout, the madman hesitated. As the iron came crashing down,
David caught the wrist and deflected the blow which would have cracked
Red’s head like an eggshell. Then ensued an actual life-and-death
struggle. David tried desperately to get a subduing grasp on the crazed
captain, while Red, rallying his strength, struggled for a throat hold.
The inhuman strength of madness filled Fraine. David and Red were both
tall and splendidly muscled, yet in his frenzy he swung them about like
children. He centered his attention on Red, who gurgled as Fraine’s
sinewy hands closed for the second time on his windpipe. Lights flashed
before his eyes. He choked, sagged, and then all at once it was over.
David had put every ounce of the strength of his trained muscles into a
lightning uppercut. It landed neatly on the captain’s chin. He crashed
to the floor beside Florsheim, unconscious.
At the door faces appeared: Mr. Hammond, Mr. Hamilton, a dozen others,
among them Dr. Forsythe. Van Arden was trying to sit up. Captain Fraine
groaned. Florsheim lay like dead, blood from a gaping wound on his head
spreading on the floor. Red nursed his swollen neck, and David leaned
panting against the instrument shelf.
“Fraine has gone crazy, doctor,” said Red hoarsely. “When I got here
Florsheim was out, and he was trying to kill Van Arden.”
“Get all three to their bunks,” the doctor ordered.
A swift examination showed that Van Arden was suffering from merely a
heavy blow on the jaw. All he wanted was peace and silence, and a chance
for his head to stop whirling. Florsheim was badly hurt, with a long
scalp cut, and the doctor feared concussion.
Captain Fraine, on the first approach to consciousness, evinced such
symptoms of acute delirium that Dr. Forsythe immediately gave him an
opiate.
Mr. Hammond came back to the control room and took the wheel from the
still shaky David. “I will take the first watch,” he said. “Dulcie has
some tea for you and Red in the salon.”
Nothing loath, they walked back and sat down, as Dulcie, followed by the
sputtering chef, brought in steaming tea and crackers.
Dulcie’s little hands trembled as she set the cups before them. “Drink
it,” she said. “It will fix your throat, Red, and set you up, David. Oh,
wasn’t it awful?” she quavered. “What did happen?”
“I don’t know what started it,” said Red. “When I got there, Fraine had
done for Florsheim entirely, and Van Arden was out. When he saw me, he
quit kicking Van Arden and grabbed me. David was a welcome sight. Fact
is,” he suddenly sobered, “he would have done for me, Davie. I never saw
anything like his strength. You’d have thought I was a baby. Why, he was
choking me and trying to tap me with the wrench, all at the same time.”
“Have more tea,” Dulcie shuddered. “And you, too, David.”
“Thanks, no. I’m all bucked up,” said David, and left them to go
forward.
“Take the wheel, David, while I see how Fraine is,” Mr. Hammond said, as
David came again into the control room. He patted the boy reassuringly
on the shoulder as he went back toward the cabins.
David stared out into the deepening gloom. The afternoon was nearly
gone. A strange darkness was beginning to surround them. The ship was
again running with the wind, not smoothly but very swiftly. They were
making nearly ninety miles an hour. He hoped the wind would hold behind
them, but he felt little cross currents already. As he watched, he saw
far ahead a swirl of black tossing clouds rise from the cloud floor
below, as though picked up in giant fragments which wove and blended
into a thick tossing barrier.
Mr. Hammond returned.
“Well, David,” he said, “it looks as if it was up to you, now. Things
are pretty bad in there. Doc says there must be a piece of bone pressing
on that head wound of the captain’s or a tiny splinter working around
inside, and that blow he got at Lakehurst about finished him. Doc has
given him a shot of morphine, and he is asleep. He says an operation
will fix him up.
“Poor Florsheim has a cracked skull, and needs hospital care as soon as
we can make Friedrichshafen. Van Arden is still groggy. He will be all
right again in a couple of days. You will have to take charge of the
ship, David. It’s a chance for you to show your mettle. Show what the
school at Ayre can do. I’m back of you, but while I command the ship,
you steer; understand?”
David’s eyes remained on the black curtain ahead.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “And if those are your orders, sir, I am going to
cut down now to a lower altitude, and find better weather. There’s a bad
blow ahead. See the lightning?”
“Pretty bad, way ahead there,” said Mr. Hammond, “but you must not try
going down. Heavens, no! Don’t you know that Captain Fraine was all
against that? Go up, if you must, but not down.”
“It will be safer below.”
“I can’t allow it, David. We have got to go by precedent, and not
experiment, now.”
“It is not experiment with me,” David argued, forgetting in his anxiety
that Mr. Hammond was his commander. “I have done it on trial flights,
and it worked perfectly.” He watched the approaching cloud bank. “I have
got to do it.”
Mr. Hammond’s face hardened. “I forbid it,” he said. “Understand?” and
without waiting for a reply walked away, leaving David to stare at the
ominous clouds, now shot with countless little veins of flame.
“And I am captain and two navigators, all in one, and in full charge!”
said David to himself, bitterly adding, “Like Mike, I am!”