ON AIR AND SEA
The scene that followed will remain in the memories of the three girls as
long as life shall last. The sea, a thin fog, a great dark plane rising
slowly like a black swan from the water, a small American pursuit plane
appearing on the distant horizon.
“Is it our young aviator?” Ruth asked herself, gripping at her breast to
still her heart’s wild beating. “Will he be in time?”
Higher and higher rose the giant plane. Nearer and nearer came its little
pursuer.
When she had risen to a height of a thousand feet, the dark marauder
began thundering away.
But of a sudden, a white gleam appeared above her. The little silver
plane was possessed of great speed. The black giant, laden with hundreds
of gallons of gasoline for a long journey, was slow in picking up. The
tiny pursuer was upon her. The fight was on.
“It’s like a catbird attacking a crow,” Ruth told herself. “What will the
end be?”
With a daring that set the girl’s blood racing, the young aviator swooped
down upon his broad winged opponent.
“He—he’ll crash into them,” she thought in sudden terror, “He—he has!”
“No! No!” said Betty who, all unconscious of her actions, was dancing
wildly about the deck. “There! There he is! He’s come out from behind.”
Again the little plane rose. Again, he came down, this time to the right
and all but upon a broad wing of the Devil Bird.
Then came a short, sharp, insistent sound that was not made by motors.
“They—they’re shooting,” said Ruth as a fresh terror seized her. “We must
get closer. They may bring him down.”
Gripping a rope, she sent her sail upward, then prepared to glide ahead
at full speed.
But now, matters took a fresh turn. So close did the young aviator dive
in that the great black plane was set wobbling. It was with the utmost
difficulty that she righted herself.
Hardly had this been accomplished when the little plane, with all the
ferocity of a bird robbed of her young, was upon her again.
“He’ll be killed!” screamed Betty, now fairly beside herself. “There!
There he goes!”
But the little plane did not drop. It wobbled and twisted, turned half a
flip-flop, righted itself and was at the dark antagonist once more.
Again the pop-pop-pop-pop of shots.
This time, however, it broke short off as the black plane, after an
instant of seeming to hang motionless in air, suddenly went into a tail
spin.
“There! There!” Betty closed her eyes.
When she opened them the black plane was gone.
“Where—where—” she stammered.
“Gone to the bottom,” said Ruth solemnly. “We’ll get over there at once.
They may rise. It—it’s terrible to think—”
“Poor fellows,” said the little man. “They will never come up. The plane,
with her heavy motors and her loaded tanks, took them straight to the
bottom. They deserved little enough. They were the enemies of law and
order and all government. Since men must live as neighbors, laws of
conduct cannot be avoided. They were blind to all this. They saw wrongs
in every land; men rich and living extravagantly who deserved to live on
hard bread and wear rags, other men living in poverty, and they said, ‘We
must destroy.’
“Nothing was ever gained by destruction. Wrongs must be righted by laws,
and by instilling into the hearts of all men a feeling of brotherly
kindness. Those who will destroy will in the end bring destruction upon
themselves.”
The little pursuit plane had come to rest on the sea. For a half hour
both plane and sail boat cruised the waters there, but no sign of the
missing plane rose from the depths.
When the little plane at last drew in close Ruth saw, with a sudden
tremor at her heart, that the young aviator of that other day by Green
Island was in the forward cockpit.
“Sorry to spoil your game,” he said, standing up. “But he was about to
get away. And that wouldn’t do. Done enough damage already.”
“Quite enough,” said the little man. “We owe you a vote of thanks. You
were lucky to escape. There was shooting.”
“They did all the shooting,” said the young man. “I was only trying to
force them down for you.”
“Well,” said the little man, “you did that with a vengeance. And now,” he
said briskly, “we better get back to old Fort Skammel. These young ladies
tell me that there’s a secret cache of silks there. I have no doubt there
are papers of great importance there too.”
“Like to ride back with me?” said the young aviator, looking at Ruth.
“I—I promised you a trip, you know.”
“Yes,” said Ruth, climbing into the plane.
“We’ll get over to the fort and keep guard there until you arrive,” said
the aviator, waving them goodbye as Ruth’s last strap was safely buckled
into place.
It was a strange world that Ruth looked down upon as she sped along—her
own little world seen from above. Islands, homes, ships, all floated like
miniature affairs of paper beneath her. Then, much too soon, they were
skimming the bay for a landing.
All was serene and dreamy about old Fort Skammel as the two, Ruth and her
pilot, came ashore there. Dragon flies darted here and there. Spider webs
drifted by.
“The calm of a Sabbath afternoon,” said the young pilot. “How good it is
to be alive!”
“Life,” Ruth replied, blinking at the sun and struggling to reassemble
her scattered thoughts, “could not be sweeter.”
An hour later, with the Secret Service man in the lead and an armed guard
stationed along the corridors, the little company entered the room of
many mysteries.
They were all there, Ruth, Pearl, Betty and even the little city girl who
had come over in a row boat. And such a time as they had feasting their
eyes on the softness and beauty of the silks laid out before them.