OUT OF THE TOILS.
It is doubtful if the chief Turk and the lesser Moslem who rode with the
young aviators from Marmora to Constantinople had ever before had a
flying experience, but they sat like wooden images in the observers'
places, impassive and silent. Their watchword was "kader"--which means
that their fate is in the hands of a superior force, and that what is
going to happen will happen anyway.
If the pilots, in a spirit of mischief, put the war-planes through some
fancy paces, they wholly failed to disturb the composure of the
Osmanlis.
As Billy remarked later, "the chap with me was like 'a painted ship upon
a painted ocean,' and I couldn't shake him out of his trance to save my
neck."
Sailing into the Golden Horn, and alighting on a quay pointed out by the
Turks, the boys found shelter for the war-planes in a covered bazaar
condemned for military purposes, and located near the artillery
barracks. To the great delight of the lads, they found Macauley and
Canby sitting in front of the last named building, complacently puffing
cheroots and seemingly with the least worry in the world.
"Who comes here?" hailed Canby. "Advance and say 'how-de-do.'"
The young aviators gave the demanded countersign with a will, and
two-handed emphasis.
"They have not put us under parole yet, I'm thankful to say," stated
Macauley in an undertone, "and I hope they won't for a week at least. I
see you brought up the war-planes, and, blame me, if I don't believe
there is some show of a get-away if we work it right."
"S-sh," warned Canby, "the boss Turk has an eye on us."
The quartette bunked together that night, though the Turkish officer at
first insisted that the boys should accept quarters to themselves, the
honor of that palace visit still clinging to them. Billy and Henri very
promptly protested against separation from their comrades, and finally
had their way.
That they were closely guarded was impressed by a continuous shuffle of
slippered feet throughout the night before the door of their sleeping
apartment.
"How about your get-away?" whispered Canby.
Macauley turned over in his cot, with a grunt. He was not ready,
apparently, with any definite plan of action.
Billy and Henri were doing some thinking on their own account. They,
too, had yet to realize upon any brilliant idea of forming.
They, however, found in the morning a line of labor cut out for them,
and that was an overhauling of the Turkish aeroplane stock in the
improvised aerodrome--quite a variety, but rather short in number and
condition, the real quality of the collection being machines forwarded
from Germany.
Then it was that Billy expressed a decided liking for Turkish attire,
and he had a reason for that, with Henri as his sole confidant. The
latter, it is needless to detail, also took immediate notion to a Moslem
masquerade.
Billy's next move was to request the assistance, in the old bazaar
structure, of the two British scouts, for "heavy work," as he explained
it, and the boy had to hold his sides, so mirth-provoking was the first
appearance of the Britons in Oriental pick-me-ups, something the worse
for former wear.
Carrying on in amusement, Billy delivered an address to the
"apprentices," for the benefit of the real Turks standing around, in
which he advised: "There is a wise saying I have heard spoken here,
'Luck is infatuated with the efficient;' now hustle and see if luck
likes you."
Macauley shook a fist at Billy in mock anger, while Canby made a fearful
face at the laughing lad.
The Britons were quick to fathom the design of the young aviators in
getting all of them into disguise.
"That boy has a good head for music," was Canby's quiet tip to Macauley.
Billy and Henri certainly earned their salt by the expert manner in
which they set in order the flying fleet of the Turks, and the Moslem
aviators that went out on scouting trips every day had no complaint of
ill behavior on the part of the aeroplanes used by them.
It might be mentioned that two war-planes of British make, occupying
space near to the open front of the bazaar building, were not neglected
by the busy aeroplane experts. The tanks of these machines were kept
filled to the brim, and every running part oiled to a nicety.
The prisoners were biding their time, and awaiting the golden moment
when the taskmasters would relax vigilance by reason of some
counter-interest. Who but their immediate guard could have instant
knowledge that two aeroplanes in the common run were carrying other than
real "defenders of the faith" on scouting journey?
And if all of these intimates in a bunch should join one of the daily
processions to the mosques, some special occasion demanding it, "just
see us get," as Billy said when figuring on such a happening.
It came about that on a memorable day, nearing sunset, and the return of
the Turkish airmen from various scouting tours anticipated, the four
captives found themselves alone in the makeshift aerodrome.
"Catch on here," was Billy's quick summons to the others, who as quickly
responded in rolling out the war-planes and into the starting place at
the rear of the barracks.
The boy pilots set the motors in motion, and never had the buzzing
seemed louder nor more insistent for attention than on this occasion,
when every nerve in the four human make-ups was taut and tense with
suppressed excitement.
They are off! Rising above that remarkable square of At-Meidan,
occupying the site of the ancient Hippodrome, and wheeling to the right
of the magnificent mosque of Soliman, the young aviators had a clear
view of the sea-front.
Coming in both directions, up and down the coast, were the six or eight
Turkish aircraft that had set out from the capital several hours
previous.
Leaning over Billy's shoulder, Macauley vociferated in the young pilot's
ear:
"We have a shot in the locker, but none in the gun."
The "shot in the locker," to which "Daring Dan" referred, was food,
which from time to time had been stored in the war-planes, in
anticipation of escape and some unforeseen delay in getting back to the
British lines. The prisoners had had no chance to obtain any cartridges
for the wicked little swiveled shooting irons carried in the armored
aircraft. The Turkish officer was responsible for the removal of the
original supply.
Billy well knew of the lack mentioned by Macauley, and he had already
decided to dodge the well-armed airline patrol by turning back from the
sea and making a dash for the open on the Asiatic side.
"Blame me," cried Macauley! "it looks like they've got a line on us!"
Two of the Turkish craft were coming like the wind toward the British
war-planes, the latter still working directly upward.
That was enough to settle the minds of the pilots on a land course
straightway. Every ounce of driving power went into the war-plane
motors, and there was nothing aloft in the Turkish empire that had a
ghost of a show in a race with these fleeing space-killers.