READY FOR FLIGHT.
“Well, fellows, the Electric Monarch is ready for her trial trip at
last.”
Thus spoke Jack Chadwick the following day. The body of the great
land and water craft, looking like a butterfly with its wings off,
stood, resplendent in glittering paint and varnish, inside the big
construction shed.
All that remained to be done to fit her for the air was to equip the
framework with the wings which were made detachable. This had been a
necessary modification of Jeptha Nevins’ plans, as the shed in which
the craft had been constructed was not wide enough to permit the wings
being attached while the Electric Monarch was still under cover.
At first this had proved quite a problem, but with the aid of
Professor Chadwick who, as has been said, had taken an active part
in the work, the boys evolved a plan whereby the wings, (or planes,)
had been made detachable and could be bolted or unbolted at pleasure.
As the weight of each plane did not exceed fifty pounds, despite its
broad spread, the work of putting on or taking off the wings was a
comparatively easy one.
It was an interested group that stood in the shed and surveyed their
completed work. The Electric Monarch, they knew, was without question
the most unique craft of its kind that had ever been constructed.
Perfect in every detail as the great craft was, the boys felt a thrill
of pride run through them as they viewed their completed handiwork.
Professor Chadwick had spared no expense in aiding the boys at their
task and the result was as perfect a bit of mechanism as had ever been
assembled. Outside the shed the great wings were ranged on special
racks ready for attachment.
To fit the Electric Monarch for flight all that was required was the
charging of her powerful storage batteries. The craft would then be
ready for the crucial test which would prove whether she was to live
up to her name or be merely a mass of expensive junk fit only for the
scrap-pile.
It was small wonder then, that with the boys’ feeling of glad pride,
there was mingled no little anxiety. They stood on the threshold of
either a monumental triumph or an ignoble failure.
“Well, Ned,” said Jack, clapping their slender young assistant on the
shoulder, “there’s your Electric Monarch as fit for flight as she ever
will be.”
Ned Nevins turned his large eyes gratefully upon the boy he had learned
within the past weeks to love and respect.
“If she succeeds it will be owing to you, Jack, and you, Tom,” he said
happily; “as for Professor Chadwick, I owe him a debt of gratitude I
can never repay.”
“Nonsense, my lad,” spoke the Professor, with a kindly smile, “win or
lose, we have all learned much during the last few weeks. Ned, your
uncle, had he lived, would have been one of the world’s great inventive
geniuses.”
“I know it. I am sure of it,” said Ned gratefully. “My poor uncle! This
would have been a proud day for him if he had lived.”
He resolutely fought back his momentary feeling of sadness, and in
order to regain his composure helped Jack adjust a brace and tighten
one or two bolts.
“An’ you alls means ter tell me widout confabulation or fear ob
controversial flabbergumbugism dat dis yar monstrositfex am er gwine
ter fly er swim?” demanded Jupe, lapsing, as he always did under
excitement, into a perfect spasm of word coining.
“We hope so, Jupe,” rejoined Tom. “Why, are you aching for a ride?”
“Who, me?” and Jupe’s eyes grew wide. “No, sah! Ah’m nuthin’ but jes
er tumble-bug so far as de desirousness ob cirperambulatin’ de air am
consarned.”
“So you wouldn’t care to go up, Jupe?” inquired Ned, with a smile.
“No, sah! Wid emphaticness, ah says, N-O-No! Ef dat ting eber fall frum
de etarnal hebbins!--Laws-ee! What a confabulating smashup dere is
agwine ter be aroun’ hyar.”
“But we don’t figure that it will fall, Jupe. At any rate we are going
to fly out over the water and then the twin boats will keep us afloat
whatever happens.”
“Wa’al, sah, Massah Jack, be dat as it may, I’d rabber be on der groun’
lookin’ up dan in der sky lookin’ down,” declared the old negro with
great positiveness.
“Let us make a final trip of inspection,” suggested the Professor.
The idea was hailed gladly. Led by Mr. Chadwick, the lads, laughing
and chatting gaily, went through the cabins and the strong structure
designed to support the Electric Monarch when in flight.
The staterooms were finished with glittering paint and everything
was spick and span as a new pin. Leaving the first cabin they passed
through the connecting tube into the other one. This having been
minutely examined, even down to the electric stove with which it was
provided, the professor led the way into what was, to the boys, the
most interesting part of the craft.
This was the pilot house. It has been already described, so we shall
not go into any details further than to say that every appliance was in
place, the wiring perfect, and all in readiness for the pilot to take
the wheel and guide the most wonderful craft of the age on her initial
flight.
Running fore-and-aft the entire length of the Electric Monarch, was a
narrow plank runway. This was so that any part of the craft might be
reached with ease when she was under way. The runway extended out to
the bearings of the propellers already mentioned, and it would be part
of the duty of whoever was entrusted with the oiling to venture out
occasionally within reach of the whirling blades and apply lubricants
to the bearings. On the water this would be a comparatively simple
matter. None of the boys was quite sure in his mind just how this duty
would appear when the craft was many hundreds of feet above the earth.
However, they were not worrying about such details as this just then.
There was but one thought uppermost in the minds of each of the eager
young constructors of the Electric Monarch.
Would she live up to expectations?
Possibly Ned, who was new to aerial work, was more nervous than his
companions over the thought of the trial trip. This was not surprising.
It requires courage of a rare sort to attempt for the first time to
climb the air in an absolutely untried craft. Yet this was the ordeal
they had to face. Moreover, there was a strong possibility that a
failure might result in death.
“Have you decided yet upon the course we will take on the trial trip?”
Jack inquired of his father as they finished their inspection, a tour,
by the way, on which Sam had not been invited, to his great chagrin.
“Yes; if all goes well we will fly straight for the ocean, provided
it is calm. That will give us a fine opportunity to test out the
hydroplane devices.”
“I feel sure enough of success to plan a voyage across the Atlantic,”
declared Tom confidently.
“That would be a little bit premature, my boy,” said the Professor,
with a smile.
“But provided the Electric Monarch is all we expect, wouldn’t it be
feasible?”
“I see no reason why not,” responded Mr. Chadwick. “At any rate in the
present state of aeronautics, if the dream of a flight across the ocean
is to come true, it seems to me that the Electric Monarch will be the
first to make the adventurous voyage.”
“Ned, you will be famous yet,” declared Jack. “I can see the name of
Ned Nevins in the Hall of Fame.”
“Huh! Maybe you see it in de bottom ob de deep blue sea,” sniffed
Jupe sceptically. The old negro had no love for air craft since his
experiences in the electric storm in Yucatan.
While the foregoing scene had been transpiring at High Towers, a far
different one had been taking place at the Hinkley House. Having
finished his dinner, a meal at which he caused much merriment by his
odd antics and remarks, young Dill had sauntered out in search of new
apparel. He had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes in finding some
striking attire. From the stock of the village tailor he had selected
a suit of green, red and black check, originally made for some amateur
theatricals, a red waistcoat and a funny little blue hat with what he
called a “rudder” stuck on behind.
From the tailor shop, where he insisted on having his packages wrapped
up, young Dill passed to the haberdashery where he invested in a
startling necktie and some radiant socks. Then, with triumph in his
eye, and with his purchases under his arm, he retraced his way to the
hotel.
“By chiminy,” he said to himself, as he hurried along quite unconscious
of the wondering glances cast his way. “Py chiminy grickets, I show dem
vot style is, I bet you my life!”
The German youth went straight to his room to change into his gorgeous
raiment. He was still in the midst of this task, every now and then
stealing a look at himself in the mirror, when his attention was
arrested by the sound of voices in the next room.
The partitions in the Hinkley House were not particularly thick, this
being caused by the fact that landlord Hinkley, being of an economical
turn of mind, had partitioned off all his large rooms into two
apartments when he became the proprietor of the hostelry.
As a consequence, conversations carried on in even ordinary tones were
plainly audible in the adjoining rooms.
“Py chiminy, I hope dose fellers in der next room don’d talk it py dere
schleep,” mused young Dill as he tied his rainbow cravat, “or I get no
schlumbers, ain’d idt?”
The next instant his attention; was attracted to the speakers in the
adjoining room by a singular circumstance. It appeared that he himself
was the topic of their conversation.
“That pig-headed Dutchman with the comedy clothes,” was what he heard.
“Py chiminy, dot means me!” exclaimed young Dill, “der vind vos in
somedings. Dere vos a voodpile in der nigger in dot next room. I dink I
listen me a leedle closer, ain’d idt?”