OVER THE PACIFIC
The gray dawn of early morning found Linda and Dot at the airport of
Cape San Lucas, all ready to take off on their momentous journey. More
than two thousand miles over the biggest ocean in the world, without a
single stop!
The Sky Rocket was already on the runway, in perfect condition for the
trip. Her high-powered Wright engine was performing as excellently as an
expensive watch; her instruments were in tune, her tanks filled. The
wireless had been tested, and found to be working, and the rubber
life-boat which Linda had ordered was tucked away in the plane.
“What are the weather predictions for this morning?” Linda inquired of
the mechanic, as Dot put the lunch into the cockpit.
“Good for at least twenty-four hours,” he replied. “But that’s not the
only danger, Miss Carlton.” He shook his head ominously. “This is sure
suicide,” he predicted.
“Why?” demanded Dot. “Isn’t the motor in perfect condition? There isn’t
anything wrong, is there?”
“No. She’s O.K. Oiled her up a bit, and tightened a few screws. It isn’t
that. But you’ll run into a typhoon, or lose your way—”
“It’s a pretty straight course,” said Linda. “We’re on the Tropic of
Cancer now, and Hawaii is just a little below it. It looks like pretty
easy navigating to me.”
“You’re welcome to it. And—happy landing!”
Linda and Dot lost no time in getting started. Five minutes later the
Sky Rocket was triumphantly rising into the air, heading straight
towards the ocean. Over the weeds and rough seashore growth on the
beach, past the waves breaking on the shore of the Pacific! The sun had
not yet risen, but it was light enough to see where they were going. On
they flew; now the waves seemed higher, but the air was calm.
There was little wind, so Linda continued to fly low, so that they could
make use of the cushion of air on top of the water. And it was thrilling
to watch the ocean—more exciting than seeing it from the deck of a boat.
“It does seem calmer than the Atlantic,” observed Dot, in a loud tone.
Seated side by side as they were in the companion cockpit, it was not
necessary to use the speaking-tube, and for this advantage they were
grateful. “They say that’s why it was called the ‘Pacific.’”
“It’s beautiful, anyway,” returned Linda, admiringly.
On and on they flew, ever westward, as the sun rose in its full glory
behind them. Soon the land was lost to view; there were no vessels in
sight—only limitless sky and ocean, and two girls alone in that vast,
empty universe. But both girls were in high spirits; neither was the
least bit afraid.
Climbing a little higher, Linda opened her throttle to its maximum, and
found themselves travelling at a speed of a hundred and fifty miles an
hour. The girls laughed and sang at the joy of the exhilarating motion,
but they did not attempt to talk. There was so much to think about—the
fun of the flight, and the triumph of landing in Hawaii, ahead of that
boat, the “Mona.” Oh, if they only made it!
Water everywhere—and the sky overhead. Noontime came, with the sun right
above them, and the girls realized that it had been a long time since
they had eaten. Dot made a dive for the coffee and sandwiches, divided
off as they were in portions for lunch and supper and breakfast, and
both girls ate ravenously. When they had finished she insisted that
Linda take a rest.
With a yawn and a stretch, Linda willingly complied, and gave the
controls over to the other girl. It would afford her not only an
opportunity to relax, but a chance to study the maps as well.
“We’ve covered eight hundred miles already,” she shouted in Dot’s ear.
“And we’re sticking straight to our course.”
“How’s the gas holding out?” returned her companion.
“Fine. I think we’ll have some left over, at this rate.... Now Dot, if
you’re all right, I think I’ll take forty winks. Even that blazing sun
doesn’t seem to keep me from being sleepy.”
The other girl nodded, and Linda slipped off to sleep. Even the bumps in
the air seemed to have no effect upon her slumbers; for an hour perhaps,
she slept soundly, while Dot continued on the flight. Then, all of a
sudden she was abruptly awakened by a terrified cry from her companion.
The plane was dropping—it seemed to be diving right into the ocean—into
the very jaws of death!
For one brief moment Linda thought of the life-boat, but that did not
seem feasible now. Instinctively she grabbed the stick, and pulled it
back sharply. The Sky Rocket wobbled almost on the surface of the water,
and at that very moment a hideous, terrifying shark poked its head above
the surface!
For one awful second death stared them in the face. Not the easy death
of drowning, but a horrible torturing agony at the jaws of a ferocious
fish. The plane seemed to hover uncertainly for a moment; then with a
sudden lightning speed it gathered control and started to climb
upward—to safety!
Linda let out a gasp of relief, and Dot sobbed in contrition as the Sky
Rocket soared into the air.
“I don’t know how I could have done it,” wailed Dot. “All of a sudden,
it seemed as if we were headed straight for the ocean, and nothing could
stop us. If you hadn’t taken hold that very instant, we’d have been
killed.”
“It was a lucky escape,” returned Linda. “And from now on we’ll make it
a point to fly higher, even if we can’t use the wind to such advantage,
as we could right over the water.”
The afternoon passed, with the motor still functioning perfectly. The
wind increased somewhat, but not enough to disturb Linda greatly. She
was continuing to fly high, for she didn’t want to run any risk of
hitting that deep, terrifying ocean again. A little before sunset they
sighted a ship.
“I’m going a little lower,” she shouted to Dot. “Get your glasses. We’ll
see whether that’s the ‘Mona.’”
“It is!” exclaimed Dot, a few minutes later. “I suppose we’re too far
south to meet the regular Los Angeles-Hawaii lines. But we must be
following about the same course as the ‘Mona.’”
“Keep a watch-out for the girl-friend!” advised Linda.
Down they glided, keeping the ship in sight until they were about a
hundred feet over the water. It was a small boat—not nearly so large as
the regular San Francisco-Hawaii line; and they could see the people
hurrying to the deck, peering through their glasses, and waving and
shouting in greeting. Dot, too, did her share of the searching.
“I don’t see them,” she said.
Linda looked intently, but she could not distinguish the passengers’
faces. However, she did not think it was likely that Sprague or his wife
would be waving to them. They would surely recognize the plane.
“Probably they’ve been keeping off the decks,” she said. “Hiding, as
much as possible, without arousing suspicion.”
“Maybe the girl’s seasick,” observed Dot. “I only hope she doesn’t pass
out and get buried at sea, before we ever have a look at her, or a
chance to collect that five thousand,” remarked Dot.
Linda regained her height, and sped onward, determined to get to Hawaii
well in advance of the boat, and to lie in wait for the criminals. The
blood was rushing through her veins, and she was thrilled with the
chase, but she resolutely kept calm. The worst of the trip—the black
night—was ahead of her, and she needed every ounce she had of energy and
nerve.
The plane was still doing well over a hundred miles an hour, and going
forward with mighty gains, eating up the miles. The sun set and once
again the girls ate some sandwiches and drank more coffee.
“I’m almost afraid to offer to take the controls and let you rest,” said
Dot, humbly. “After the way I fell down before.”
“It was the Sky Rocket that did the falling,” laughed Linda. “But I
guess that wouldn’t happen again. You’ll stay up high, I’m thinking.”
“You’ll trust me again?”
“Certainly, Dot. Don’t be so foolish. Besides, I want to do a little
calculating.”
Relaxing back in her seat, Linda consulted her maps and her sextant,
when suddenly she heard a queer noise. The motor was knocking in a
strange, ominous way that almost made the girls’ hearts stop beating.
Was it going dead? Panic-stricken, Dot looked down on the ocean, hoping
that she could see the “Mona,” or some other ship that might rescue
them, and Linda’s thoughts turned to the wireless.
The tapping was growing worse; the engine seemed to be dying. Linda
racked her brain for a reason; surely the gas hadn’t given out. Telling
Dot to keep on guiding the plane, she examined the feed-valve. And here
she located the trouble!
A broad smile of relief spread over her face. “I can fix that, easily,”
she assured her companion. “Just hang on for a couple of minutes.”
She was as good as her word; soon the knocking ceased, and the engine
was running as smoothly as when the Sky Rocket left Cape San Lucas. And
Linda herself was back at the controls, urging Dot to avail herself of a
nap while she had the chance.
It was entirely dark now, and the stars were shining in the sky, and
reflected in the ocean, making a beautiful picture for the girls as they
flew on. Phosphorescent lights, too, played through the water, reminding
Linda of the dangerous life beneath.
Towards ten o’clock, while Dot was taking her nap, they had one more
terrifying experience. Suddenly, for no reason at all, they started to
fall. Yet the engine was not dead, nor was their motion slow enough for
a stall. There was only one explanation, of course: an air-pocket. Down,
down they came, like an elevator whose cords have been broken. Dot
wakened up with a scream and the beads of perspiration stood out on
Linda’s forehead, for she believed that this time the sea was really
about to swallow them.
But she had been flying high, and this proved to be her salvation. She
tried banking the plane, first on one side and then on the other,
breaking the fall, but making both herself and Dot dizzy with the
sickening motion. Her head swam; she hardly knew what she was doing, and
there was the black water beneath them. But at last a current of air
swept under the wings, assuring her that she was out of danger once
more. Making a sharp turn away from the air-pocket, she found her plane
responding to the stick as she started to climb back again to the height
she had lost.
The girls breathed freely again, and Dot, now wide awake, produced
coffee from the thermos bottle, for they felt in need of a stimulant.
But, as the plane flew fearlessly on, and the flight again became
monotonous, Dot fell asleep once more, and Linda continued, waking and
watchful.
She watched the stars fade gradually from the sky, and the first gray
light play over the sea. Tensely alert, she glanced eagerly at her
speedometer. If her calculations were correct, there were only three
hundred miles more to go!
It was considerably lighter when Dot finally opened her eyes.
“Fine companion I am!” she exclaimed, in shame. “To go to sleep like
that. Leaving you as lonely as you were on your Atlantic flight!”
Linda reached over and touched her hand affectionately.
“Don’t you believe it, Dot!” she said. “It makes a big difference,
having you here.... And if you’re awake now, I’d like to have you take
control. I want to do some figuring. Now that we’re getting so near, I
want to locate the islands. Suppose we’d miss them, after coming all
this distance!”
“Suppose we would!” repeated Dot. “And never realize it till we landed
on the coast of Australia!”
“We’d know it before then. Our gas would give out somewhere in the
middle of the ocean.”
“Well, we’re not going to miss them!”
It was, as Linda said, one of the most difficult parts of the flight, to
locate those tiny dots of islands in the vast expanse of ocean. But
Linda was a good navigator, and she made her calculations correctly.
They were, she discovered, only about fifty miles off their course—an
error which was easily remedied, since their gas supply was adequate.
“A hundred miles more!” she announced, when she finally resumed control.
“Now we can watch for the sea-gulls!”
Nearer and nearer to their destination they came. Now Dot spied some
fishing craft with her glasses, and that fact told her that the shore
must be near. Her excitement was so intense that she could hardly sit
still. The end of her first ocean flight! Her first landing from over
the water!
“We’re coming!” she shouted, in wild exultation.
Linda was almost equally thrilled, although her pulse was calmer. It had
been less terrifying, less difficult, less nerve-racking than the
solitary, long flight over the Atlantic. But she was nevertheless
excited.
Now the cliffs rose from the ocean, and the waves broke against the
shore, showing their white-caps. And, as if to stage a dramatic arrival,
the sun rose in all its glory, shedding its beams over the land and
water.
The green island of Molokai was beneath them!
But this was not their destination, and Linda pressed on.
“Aren’t you going to land?” cried Dot, in disappointment.
“No,” returned Linda. “We are making for the island of Oahu. I must come
down in Honolulu.”
On they flew, past Molokai, directing their course southwest, over the
indigo waters of the Pacific, now so beautiful in the sunlight, then
swinging north towards the capital city of the Hawaiian Islands. Now
they saw speed boats and launches on the waves; they passed the great
Diamond Head, and Waikiki beach, and hovered at last over the Rogers
Airport on the coast.
“Honolulu!” cried Linda, joyously. “We are here!”
As the girls looked beneath them, it seemed for a moment as if the
airport were a bed of flowers. Garlands of leis and gardenias filled the
air with a strange and wonderful fragrance. Then, as Linda dropped
lower, she realized that these flowers were all in the arms of people
standing about the ground. People of every race and color.
“Who are all those people?” demanded Dot. “Do you suppose there’s been
an accident?”
“Oh, I hope not!” replied Linda. “I’ll keep on flying over the field
until they scatter. I mustn’t hurt anybody.” She brought the Sky Rocket
lower, and gave a signal that she wanted to land.
But already policemen were busily pushing the crowd back, making a clear
runway for the plane. When Linda thought it was safe, she gracefully
glided to the ground.
Even above the noise of the engine, the girls heard the wild shouts of
the multitude.
“Hello, Linda Carlton! Hello, Dot Crowley!” seemed to rise from every
direction, and flowers were strewn in their path. “Welcome to Oahu!”
The girls stared at each other a moment in consternation, not
understanding how these people could possibly be informed of their
names. But only a moment, for the crowd rushed in, and it took all the
policemen’s efforts to hold them in check. A small and select group of
half a dozen or so were admitted close to the plane.
From this group, a couple of young fliers stepped forward and lifted the
girls right out of the cockpit.
“Congratulations to the first girls to cross the Pacific!” they cried,
as they put garlands of leis around their necks. Then, with Linda and
Dot on their shoulders, high over the heads of the crowd, the boys
carried them to a waiting car.
“Aloha!” shouted everyone as they passed. “To our heroines of the air!”