THE GOLDEN GATE
Caught in the very center of a fierce mountain storm, the _Osprey_ was
now battling her way above the jagged and towering peaks of the Rockies,
fighting for every inch in an endeavor to reach San Francisco within the
stipulated time. Though by the clock there were several hours of
daylight still remaining, it was so dark and gloomy in the stormy
mountain region that it seemed as if night had fallen.
“But we may pull out of it yet!” cried Tom to his friends, as he saw to
it that all the openings of the traveling car were tightly closed. For
once the air, under high pressure because of the velocity of the wind,
gained an entrance, it might do serious damage. But Tom had foreseen
that they might run into storms, and had so built his car that a few
pulls on certain levers would close everything save the protected
ventilators.
Through these fresh air came in and the foul air was expelled, but rain
could not enter. It was different in the aeroplane above the car,
however. There the mechanician and his assistant were pretty much in the
open, though there was a cowl of heavy celluloid to protect their faces
and Tom had rigged up an extra hood to keep off some of the rain and
snow that might be encountered on the trip. But from the very nature of
their calling, aeroplane pilots must fly with much of their bodies
exposed to the elements.
When they expect to go to great heights and encounter cold of such
intensity that it is hard to conceive of it, they wear suits in which
are woven wires of high resistance. A low voltage electric current,
passing through these wires, warms them, just as is done in some of the
warming pads used in bed by invalids. In this way the blood of the
daring aviators is kept circulating.
But as Tom did not expect to go very high on his airline express trips,
there was no need of these electrically heated suits, and none had been
taken along. However, he had taken into consideration that they might
run into rain, and rubber coats had been provided.
“I’ll go up and relieve Ted Dolan,” remarked Tom to Ned, for the third
crew of pilots had been taken on at Denver to make the final hop to the
Pacific coast. Dolan was an experienced airman and had for his helper
Art Wright. But they had not taken their rubber coats up in the cockpit
with them, for when they left Denver the weather was all that could be
desired.
“I’ll go with you,” offered Ned. “I’d like to see just how bad this
storm is.”
“It’s a humdinger all right,” declared Tom, as he glanced out of an
observation window while waiting for Eradicate to bring the storm
garments from a locker.
“Bless my nose-guard, I’ll say it is!” chimed in Mr. Damon. “I never saw
a worse one.”
“Oh, we’ve been in just as severe ones before,” observed Tom, in what
seemed a cool voice. “When we were trying out the flying boat I remember
a storm when I thought we never would get through it. This is bad
enough, but the _Osprey_ can buck it I think.”
“Ah knows Massa Tom gwine to pull us through all right,” said Eradicate,
with a glance at Koku. “Ah isn’t scairt, no how!”
“Huh! Black man talk big—but him knees shake all same,” sneered the
giant.
“Whose knees am shakin’, big man? Whose knees am shakin’?” demanded the
colored servant, as he strode toward the big fellow. It seemed as if he
might try to punch Koku.
“That will do,” commanded Tom in a low voice. He had troubles enough on
hand without a fight starting between his two helpers.
A signal was given for Wright to descend to the cabin, and when he came
down Tom went up through the enclosed ladder.
“Is it bad up there?” he asked his workman.
“Bad?” was the reply. “Say, you ought to feel it!” He was wet
through—as dripping as though he had fallen into a tub of water.
When Tom took charge of the cockpit Dolan descended, glad enough to get
out of the way of the stinging pellets of rain, driven by the hurricane
wind. He, too, was soaked. Ned followed his chum up into the cockpit,
and, though they were protected by goggles, helmets of leather, and
rubber coats, they felt the force of the storm.
What with the roaring of the motors, the howl of the wind, the crash of
thunder, and the rattle of the rain, it was impossible for the two to
communicate, even though they had speaking tubes running from the
forward cockpit to the one built aft.
The young inventor, who had taken personal charge of piloting the big
plane through the storm, that it might arrive on time, soon realized
that he had his “work cut out for him,” as he said later. While it is
not at all unusual for aeroplanes of even less power than the big ones
Tom used to fly through storms, still there is always the element of
danger.
But Tom’s _Osprey_ had one advantage. Because of the heavy car slung
below it, the center of gravity was thus made much lower than usual, and
this served to keep the craft steady.
Tom glanced at the oil gage, at the gasoline indicator, and at the
needle of the dial which showed their height above the ground. He had
noted the tips of several jagged peaks below as they flew over them, and
he realized that while they might be up sufficiently high in flying over
level ground, they were not when traversing the Rocky Mountains.
“A little drop and we’ll scrape some of those stone teeth,” thought Tom.
“I’m going up a bit.”
He was in much more comfortable circumstances than had been the two men
whom he and Ned relieved, for the storm garments protected him and his
chum. Consequently Tom could give more undivided attention to managing
the craft. His first act was to increase the speed of the motor and tilt
the elevating rudder to send them higher.
“He’s going to try to rise above the storm,” decided Ned, though this
was not actually Tom’s idea. He merely wanted to be a little farther
above those towering mountain peaks.
The _Osprey_ responded well, and soon they had lost sight of the jagged
“teeth,” as Tom called them. But the storm was not to be cheated in this
way, and still raged around them.
“Why doesn’t he go higher?” thought Ned. “He’s often flown at a greater
elevation than this and in bigger machines. Once he’s above the clouds
he’ll be out of the storm and into sunshine,” for the sun was still
above the horizon, though invisible to the travelers on account of the
masses of storm vapor.
However, Tom did not want to take too many chances. He felt that his
craft was doing quite well as it was, forging ahead, though at some loss
of speed, and if he could keep her there he would make the journey
safely, though he began to figure now on losing an hour or two from his
schedule of sixteen.
For a time the storm seemed to abate a little, and they were
congratulating themselves that they had ridden through it, when, all at
once, it burst over them with redoubled fury. So powerful was the wind
that once or twice the _Osprey_ seemed actually to stand still.
Of course that might not really have been the case. Wind seldom obtains
a velocity of more than a hundred miles an hour, even in the worst
storms, and Tom’s craft was keyed up now to do at least two hundred
miles, which was double that of the wind. But it may well have been that
her speed was cut down by half, and from what developed afterward Tom
was inclined to think this was the case.
But with a fierceness of spirit that equaled the fierceness of the
storm, Tom drove his machine on. He was determined to finish this first
trip at least pretty nearly on schedule. It would mean a wonderful
amount of prestige for him if he could, and almost insure the success of
the undertaking.
Though at one time, during a terrific outburst of wind, lightning, and
rain, it seemed as if they would be utterly overwhelmed, Tom was
skillful, and brought the _Osprey_ around and straightened her out of a
dangerous side slip.
Then, almost as suddenly as the storm had begun, it stopped. The machine
slid out of the region of wild disturbance into daylight. Ned, peering
past Tom, looked ahead. He saw something that caused him to cry:
“The Golden Gate!”
“Yes,” shouted back Tom, “that’s San Francisco just ahead of us. But
we’ve lost about two hours!”