THE COMMITTEE BUYS AN AEROPLANE
So intense was the interest in the new plan to purchase an aeroplane
that, when Friday came around, the opening of the camp on Perdido Bay
was again postponed. The United States marshal, having taken charge of
the libeled steamer, after Thursday the nightly meetings of the boys
were held in Mrs. Allen’s dining room. Boating, fishing, and hunting
were forgotten. At each meeting, Bob had new flying machine literature
and new suggestions.
Mr. Hawkins would have done well to have accepted Mr. Rowe’s offer.
March fourth, the libel case was heard, and the court promptly entered
judgment for ten thousand dollars against the lumber dealer. Two days
later, Mr. Hawkins, eager to get possession of the steamer to begin
repairs, satisfied the claim. Mr. Rowe finally consented to accept a
fee of two hundred and fifty dollars, and the remainder of the amount
was paid over directly to the parties concerned, the boys, Jerry and
Captain Joe Romano; each receiving a check for one thousand six hundred
and twenty-five dollars.
The following morning, the Pensacola _Journal_ contained this story:
THE BOY AVIATORS’ CLUB
Six Pensacola Lads To Buy an Aeroplane
Result of Recent Salvage Case
It became known yesterday that the six members of the Anclote
Boat Club, who were recently awarded ten thousand dollars
salvage in the _Elias Ward_ rescue, have determined to put a
part of their treasure trove into an up-to-date aeroplane.
Thomas Allen and Robert Balfour, the nineteen and eighteen year
old president and secretary of the club, have been delegated to
go to New York to select the airship.
It also became known at the same time that there is decided
objection to this on the part of the parents of more than one
boy. But the youngsters seem determined, and there is a strong
probability that parental objections will be defied.
Tom Allen, president of the club, said yesterday: “You bet we
are going to do it. Every one of the six members of the club
risked his life to earn that money, and why shouldn’t we spend
it as we like? We are going to use three thousand dollars to
buy an aeroplane, one thousand to repair our club house over on
Perdido Bay, and divide the remainder. The court awarded us the
money, and we’re going to beat the men of Pensacola by bringing
an aeroplane down here before they wake up.”
Then followed a column story reviewing the rescue, the trial, and the
history of the club.
“It’s all right,” exclaimed Tom when he read the story, “except that
it’s about three-fourths wrong. There aren’t six members in the club.
I didn’t say anything about risking our lives or that we were going to
spend one thousand dollars on the club house.”
Bob was tempted to send a copy of the newspaper to his father, but he
was afraid the joke would be on him. It was victory enough to get his
mother’s consent to the plan. He was sure his father would object.
The printed story was true as to Tom and Bob going north to buy the
airship, but the announcement was premature. It required nearly two
days of pleading before Mrs. Balfour and Mrs. Allen agreed to this.
But, at last, Mrs. Balfour began to take a pride in Bob’s businesslike
program, and she consented――although it was with many misgivings.
“I thought I took you out of school and brought you down here to rest
and get strong,” said Mrs. Balfour to her son.
“Well,” answered Bob, “do I look as if I’m losing any weight?”
“Perhaps you’re right,” exclaimed his mother laughing. “But you’ll have
to back me up when your father finds out about it.”
“Why he practically told me to buy an aeroplane,” answered Bob
soberly. “He really put the idea into my head.”
Hal could not accompany the purchasing committee. His positive orders
were not to miss a day’s schooling. And he wouldn’t write home and ask
permission because he didn’t want to say anything about his suddenly
acquired fortune. He and Bob bought a draft for three thousand, two
hundred and fifty dollars with their checks, and Tom and Mac each
contributed one hundred dollars out of their portions to cover the
traveling expenses of the committee.
The almost continuous meetings of the boys had finally resulted in the
following program: Hal attended a private preparing school that granted
a vacation of a week at Easter. Tom obtained his mother’s consent to
absent himself from school during the same week, and all had planned to
secure the aeroplane at once and ship it directly to Tampa, just south
of the Mecca of all their outing dreams――Anclote Island――three hundred
miles distant from Pensacola.
To this much-talked-of island, Captain Joe was to carry the club
members in the _Three Sisters_. The aeroplane was then to be put
together in Tampa, conveyed through the air to the uninhabited island,
and for four or five glorious days at least, there was to be a carnival
of aerial exploration by land and sea.
The original attraction at Anclote Island had been the unsurpassed
tarpon fishing to be found there. In the three years that the club had
been in existence, the one big dream of each of its members had been
the long cruise that they were some day to make to this place. Now,
tarpon fishing became a secondary matter. But Anclote Island was still
the center of their dreams.
The acquisition of the aeroplane gave the island new possibilities.
It was on the edge of the Florida Everglades――the great, mysterious,
impenetrable swamp whose unexplored depths suddenly became a new lode
stone.
The plans discussed seemed endless: A temporary camp on the island,
excursions to the semi-tropic shore, fishing trips on the sound and
gulf, and, above all, daring forays to the interior of the state
in quest of adventures in the Everglade swamp and among the hidden
Seminole Indians.
Finally, on a Saturday evening, a cavalcade including Mrs. Balfour,
Mrs. Allen, Hal and Mac accompanied Bob and Tom to the train, and the
aeroplane committee was off for New York. Mrs. Allen brought with her a
little basket containing a luncheon. Tom had never made a long railroad
journey before, but he knew that in these days of the sumptuous dining
cars travelers no longer carried food. And, since he and Bob had ample
means to do as other travelers, before the boys turned in that night,
every scrap of fried chicken, jelly, cake and pickles had been eaten.
Just before noon on Monday, the two boys reached the president’s office
in the shops of the American Aeroplane Company’s works in the outskirts
of Newark, New Jersey. President Atkinson heard what the two lads had
to say in open astonishment. He cross-examined them, smiled, laughed,
inspected their draft and then grew serious. Finally, he called in his
engineering expert, Mr. Osborne, and this man heard Bob’s story.
“But you don’t know how to operate an aeroplane,” was the president’s
comment at last. “It’s most unusual.” Then he laughed again. “We can’t
afford to have you youngsters break your necks just for the purpose of
selling a machine.”
“We’re going to stay here until you teach us how,” said Bob promptly.
“Oh, I see,” said the engineer, also smiling and stroking his chin.
“Ain’t that a paht of the business?” inquired Tom. “Just like showing a
customah how to run an automobile?”
“We’ll pay for the lessons,” added Bob.
“Osborne,” said the president of the company, at last, “show the young
men the two machines we are making; make an engagement with them to
see both in flight, and then see if either of them has any of the
requirements of an aviator. If you conclude they can learn to operate a
car with safety, I’ll talk to them again.”
The American Aeroplane Company was at that time making but two forms
of aeroplanes. Since then, the company, which has absorbed so many
smaller concerns that it is now the well known “flying machine trust,”
has purchased and at present controls nearly every important idea in
aeroplane construction. The types of machines shown to Bob and Tom were
No. 1, an adaptation of the Wright and Curtiss single-motor biplanes,
and No. 2, Engineer Osborne’s elaboration of the glider principle made
famous by the Californian, Montgomery. The latter machine was the more
expensive and more elaborate.
The novel feature of Type No. 1 was its simplicity and strength. To the
eye it differed little from the car used by the Wright brothers. But
examination showed that the framework was heavier, the fore and aft
rudder guides stronger and the seating arrangement for a passenger, in
addition to the operator, much more carefully wrought out. This car,
with a 25-horsepower motor had a spread of 39 feet, and was guaranteed
to show forty miles an hour under right conditions. Allowing three
hundred pounds for the weight of an operator and one passenger, this
machine was calculated to carry enough gasoline for an operating radius
of one hundred and fifteen miles, or a straightaway flight of two
hundred and thirty miles.
“The other machine,” explained Mr. Osborne, as he drew the wide-eyed
and enthused lads to that type of air craft, “will give you more
speed, but a shorter radius of action. This is because it carries two
motors――one for each propeller. It eats up the gas,” he said proudly,
“but it gets results.”
No. 2, a much more expensive aeroplane, was a combination of
Montgomery’s bird wing, curved planes, set tandem, and the Wright
brothers steering rudders. The large fan-tail rudder used on the
Montgomery glider had been discarded in favor of the more recent fore
and aft rudders used by the Wrights and Curtiss. Instead of the usual
single motor, this machine carried two gyroscopic motors, one for each
propeller.
Tom, whose real knowledge of aeroplanes extended but little beyond
what the exuberant Bob had told him in the last few days, after a long
examination of this car, looked at Bob with inquiring eyes. But Bob
shook his head.
“We’d better stick to the simpler machine,” said Bob, although it was
plain that he had reached the conclusion regretfully.
“I have some notion about the control of a simple engine. And I know
something about manipulating parallel planes. Besides, it’s cheaper,
and it’ll go fast enough for us.”
The next afternoon, Mr. Osborne, the engineer, reported back to his
superior. He sat down with a sigh, shaking his head:
“I don’t know what we’re comin’ to, in this country,” he said, wiping
his greasy face.
“Boys a frost?” commented President Atkinson.
“Frost?” exclaimed the expert. “That boy Balfour is a natural born
mechanic. And he has a book knowledge of aeroplanes that includes
nearly everything I can tell him. And that southern kid――what the other
one may lack in nerve, he has. The Balfour boy made a flight alone
yesterday, and this morning, he took the other kid up.”
The president thought a moment, and then summoned the two boys who were
waiting in the outer office.
“I don’t much like to do it,” he began, “but I suppose if air
navigation is to become general, we’ll have to trust the youngsters.
You’ve selected the right machine for a beginner――the simplest and
cheapest. The price of it is twenty-two hundred and fifty dollars. You
may have it, crated on the cars here, at two thousand dollars.”
While the negotiations concerning the aeroplane had been going on, Bob
and Tom had remained in Newark. Now, with the purchase completed and
all arrangements made for shipping their precious machine, the two boys
hastily packed their suit cases and returned to New York. It was a
great evening for the southern boy. Bob boldly piloted his companion to
a nationally known and luxurious hotel, ordered a double room with two
beds, and then, before night fell, he took Tom in a taxicab for a long
ride through the park and along the drive up the river.
“Why not?” laughed Bob. “You may not be in New York again for some
time. So far, we have traveled on the club’s expense. This evening,
you’re my guest, Tom. We’re going to celebrate, and I’m going to stand
the expense.”
In fact, this suggestion had been made by Mrs. Balfour, who had had no
opportunity, she said, to repay the kindness shown her and Bob by Mrs.
Allen.
Therefore, when Tom saw Bob pay six dollars for their dinner in the
brilliantly lighted café and later buy theatre tickets at two dollars
and a half apiece, he nearly lost his breath. They left for the south
at two o’clock the next afternoon. All morning, they were too busy to
think of cab or street car. When they sank down on their Pullman seats,
Tom announced that the thousand things he had seen in the all too short
morning were well worth his blistered feet and aching back. A heap of
bundles alongside the two happy boys were other tangible evidences of
their morning activity.
It gave Tom a thrill of real pleasure to stow away his own parcels,
for, carried away by the easy way in which money is spent in New York,
he had purchased gifts for his mother and grandmother. There were a
silk shirt waist and a gossamer-like parasol for his mother, for which
he paid forty dollars, and a silver bound handbag for his grandmother,
costing fifteen dollars. Bob had engineered this shopping. In turn,
Bob had laid in heavy boxes of the highest priced confections for his
mother and Mrs. Allen; a big volume on aeroplanes and aviation for Tom;
an outing raincoat for Mac; an imported outing cap for Hal; a combined
barometer and thermometer for Captain Joe Romano, and an elaborate,
many-bladed knife for Jerry Blossom.
Just before leaving, Bob sent telegrams to his mother and Mrs. Allen
that the expedition would reach Pensacola Saturday evening. To the
surprise and pleasure of the boys, they found, when they reached the
southern city the next evening about eight o’clock, that Mrs. Allen
had invited Mrs. Balfour, Bob and Hal Burton to a late supper at her
home, and the returned travelers had the pleasure of gift distribution
over a meal that Bob announced was far better than anything they had in
New York.
The evening of gayety that followed was punctuated with Bob and Tom’s
wonderful tales of what they had seen and done. On the blossom scented
gallery of the little house, the boys vied with each other in recalling
the details of their daring adventures. On their way home at a late
hour, Mrs. Balfour said to her son:
“Bob, do you feel any better than you did when we started south?”
“Better?” exclaimed Bob. “Mother, I feel so good that I’ve forgotten I
ever felt any other way. I tell you there’s a good deal of difference
between reading how some one does things and gettin’ out and doin’ ’em
yourself. Me for doin’ things now――not dreamin’ about ’em. That’s the
way to be happy.”