OFF FOR SAN FRANCISCO.
The final touches had been put on the _Golden Eagle_ and she had been
transported to Governor’s Island off the Battery four days later. The
start for the great transcontinental race was to be made from the flats
at the southern end of the reservation. The boys discovered that as the
day of the race drew nearer that the list of entrants had narrowed down
to three. There was their own aeroplane, the Slade entry of the
_Despatch_, and a big dirigible which had also been entered by the
_Despatch_. This left them the sole representative of the _Planet_. Of
the large number of original entrants, some of them had become
discouraged. Others’ machines had been broken in practice and still
others were convinced, as the starting day drew near, that it would be
impracticable to make the long flight.
“Well, the contest is certainly narrowed down,” commented Frank one day
while they were all seated in front of their shed watching the
_Despatch’s_ plane alight from a flight it had taken above the Jersey
meadows.
“I’m glad of it,” said Harry; “the fewer there are in the race the
easier it will be to avoid collisions and accidents.”
After his attempt to steal the plans of Mr. Joyce’s gyroscopic balancer
the boys heard no more of Fred Reade in a hostile way. Of course, they
did not speak, and Reade cast black looks at them as he came and went on
his frequent visits to the aerodrome of Arthur Slade. However, his
active antagonism seemed to have ceased. Probably he was too busy
arranging the final details of the start to be able to spare the time to
make himself unpleasant.
The big dirigible, a red painted affair with a crimson gas bag, was also
housed on the island. So great was public interest that the little
Government steamer that brought visitors over from the mainland was
crowded down to her guards with the curious who had obtained passes to
see the racing machines.
For her dash overland the _Golden Eagle_ had been equipped with her
wireless. An outfit of Frank’s invention had also been installed in the
automobile which was to carry old Mr. Joyce, Lathrop Beasley and Billy
Barnes. Lathrop was an expert operator and the boys hoped to be able to
keep in constant touch with each other by means of the apparatus. Mr.
Joyce, it had been agreed, was to accompany the expedition as mechanic.
His skilled knowledge of aeroplane engines and construction was expected
to prove invaluable in case of the breakdowns which the boys knew they
must expect on such a voyage.
At last the night came when the red flag with a white ball in the
center, which meant the racing ships would start the next day, was run
up on the tall flagstaff at the army post. The boys could hardly sleep
for excitement and lay awake till late talking over final details. It
was agreed that the auto was to “pick up” the aeroplane as it flew over
Jersey City. From that time on they would keep in touch by wireless or
telegraph all the way across the country, the auto carrying extra
supplies, machinery parts and gasolene.
The _Despatch’s_ aeroplane was also to be followed by an auto in which
Fred Reade was to be a passenger, as was also the red-bearded man whose
identity was a mystery to the boys. The red dirigible drivers, not being
able to afford an auto, had had to depend on luck for gasoline and other
supplies en route, although they could carry a good load.
The day of the start dawned fair and still. The bay lay an unruffled
sheet of gray water. The flag drooped on its flagstaff. It was ideal
flying weather. All the aviators on the island were up early and working
over their machines. There were joints to be tightened, stay wires to be
carefully inspected, oiling devices to adjust and engines to be turned.
This work was impeded a lot by the inquisitive crowds who began to
arrive on the first boat.
A detachment of soldiers was finally set to work roping off a space in
which, as the time for the start drew near, the air ships were “parked.”
This relieved the situation and the boys could work unhampered. Billy
Barnes, Lathrop and Mr. Joyce started for Jersey early.
“Good luck!” shouted the boys, as they rolled on to the boat in their
big auto.
“So long, see you after dinner,” cried Billy with a merry wave of the
hand.
The boys’ parents, relatives and groups of their school friends had come
over to see them off, and when the hard and dirty work was finished the
boys had their hands full explaining to their young friends all about
the _Golden Eagle_.
At last the bugle that announced that it was half an hour before
starting time sounded. An electric wave of enthusiasm ran through the
crowd. Over in the city windows of skyscrapers began to fill with men
and women anxious to watch the contestants shoot into the air. On ferry
boats and roofs all along the water front thousands of eyes were
watching.
“Are you all ready?”
It was General Stanton, commander of the Department of the East, who had
consented to start the race, who spoke.
“Yes,” came in a shout from the aviators.
The dirigible men began to cast off ropes and the aeroplanes were
dropped into position. A squad of men drove back the pressing crowds,
and the boys, after kissing their parents and bidding farewell to their
relatives and friends, took their seats in the _Golden Eagle’s_ chassis.
There was a mighty roar and blue flames and smoke spouted from the
engine exhausts as the motors were started. Men, with their heels dug
into the sandy ground to avoid slipping, held back the struggling
planes. The dirigible swayed and tugged at her resting ropes like an
impatient horse.
“Bang!”
It was the starting gun at last.
“Hurrah!” roared the crowd.
“They’re off!” shouted everybody, as if there could be any doubt of it.
[Illustration: “They’re off!” shouted everybody.]
Like mighty birds the two aeroplanes swept swiftly forward a few yards
over the level ground and then headed out far above the river toward the
Jersey shore. The big dirigible, its engine droning like an enormous
scarab beetle, followed, keeping well up with the speedy winged craft.
From thousands of windows, banked with white faces, handkerchiefs and
flags waved and from the roofs of the office buildings housing the
_Planet_ and _Despatch_ plants bombs were exploded at regular intervals
to spread the news broadcast that the race had begun. In the offices of
the evening papers the great presses were already rushing out “Extras”
telling of the start. Soon newsboys in the canyon-like streets of lower
New York would be crying their wares.
Every pilot of every boat on the river pulled his whistle cord and tied
it down as the air craft swept far above. The uproar was literally
ear-splitting. Owing to the roar of their engines, however, the aviators
heard little of the turmoil which they caused.
In a few minutes Jersey City, which had gone just as airship mad as New
York, was reached. On swept the high-flying craft above its crowded
roofs and bellowing factory whistles. Far beneath them they could see
the flat green expanse of the meadows beyond with the silver paths
marked on them by the Hackensack and Passaic rivers. As they flew onward
and left the city far behind the boys could spy on the road beneath them
the two convoying autos.
All at once the wireless began to crackle.
“They are sending up a message,” exclaimed Harry.
“Great start—good work—we’ll beat them all to a frazzle,” was the
message the spark spelled out.
“Thank you, let’s hope so,” replied Harry.
The course had been marked on maps that both the Boy Aviators and their
companions had handy for reference. From the autos, too, flew red and
blue flags, which made identification easy. At night the Boy Aviators’
auto was to burn red lights. The signal that a good landing place was at
hand would be flashed upward at night by a blue flare. Of course, if it
was necessary to alight in the daytime the occupants of the _Golden
Eagle_ would be able to spy such spots far below them more readily than
anyone driving on the surface.
The engine was working perfectly as the _Golden Eagle_ rushed onward.
Its steady song delighted the young voyagers. Harry, with watchful eyes,
looked after the lubrication, while Frank kept the craft steady on her
course. On and on they flew, the autos beneath seeming specks in clouds
of dust. The dirigible was about two miles behind and the _Despatch’s_
aeroplane was a short distance in front of it. The boys, therefore, had
a good lead.
“That’s a good start. We’re beating them already,” exclaimed Harry.
Frank smiled.
“Two miles isn’t much in a race of this length,” he remarked. “We’ve
only started, Harry. We’ll have lots of ups and downs before we’ve
finished.”
How prophetic his words were neither of the boys realized at that time.