"Nonsense?"
"Certainly. You don't mean to tell me that you took a boat of this size
on long cruises!"
Bill grinned in the darkness. "But you see," he chuckled, "this isn't a
boat."
"Well, what is it then?"
"A Loening amphibian. Not exactly the stock model, for Dad and I had
quite a few changes made in the cabin and this pilot's cockpit."
"_What?_" shrieked Dorothy. "An airplane--one that can land either on
water or on land?"
"That's right. The old crate has the hull of a boat equipped with
retractible wheel landing gear which operates electrically."
"You're too technical for me," she said frowningly, and balanced herself
with a hand on the back of the pilot's seat. "But if this is an
airplane, why keep bouncing along on the water? I'd think you'd fly to
land and have done with it."
"My dear girl--" began Bill.
"Don't use that patronizing tone--I'm not your dear girl--not by a long
shot!"
Bill laughed outright. "My error once more. However, Miss Spitfire, when
you learn to fly, you'll find out that air currents are very like water
currents. When it is blowing as hard as it is now, flying a plane is
fully as dangerous as sailing a boat--more so, in fact. When the wind
reaches a certain velocity, it is impossible to balance your plane. You
have to land--or crash."
Dorothy was beginning to understand. "Then you must have taken some
awful risks coming out after me."
"I was lucky," he admitted. "But you see, even if we were able to fly in
this gale, now, it's quite impossible to take off in such a heavy sea.
If I gave the old bus enough gas to get up a flying speed, these combers
would batter the hull in--I'd never be able to get her onto her step.
Some day, when it's fine, and the water's smooth, I'll show you what I
meant by that. Now all we can do is to taxi."
"Taxi?--This is the first seagoing taxi I've ever been in!"
"In air parlance," he explained, "to taxi is to run a plane along the
ground or on the water--just now, it isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I should think it would be easier than flying."
"Not on water as rough as this. Your legs go to sleep with the strain
you have to put on the rudder pedals."
"Oh--you're steering with your feet?"
"Yes."
"Well, why don't you let me help you? I'll drive her for a while,"
offered Dorothy.
Bill shook his head. "It's terribly hard work," he demurred.
"What of it? I'm as strong as an ox."
"Thanks a lot. You're a real sport. But the difficulty is in shifting
places with me without swamping the old bus. She isn't equipped with
dual controls. There's only one set of pedals, and as soon as I release
them she will slue broadside to the waves, the wings will crumple, and
she'll simply swamp and go under."
"And you must taxi either before the wind, or into the wind as we are
now, in seas like these?"
"You've guessed it," he nodded.
"But there must be some way we can manage it," argued Dorothy. "You
can't keep on much longer. Your legs will give out and then we'll go
under anyway."
Bill hesitated a moment. "Well, all right, let's try it--but it's no
cinch, as you'll find out."
"That's O.K. with me. Come on--orders, please--and let's go!"
_Chapter III_