_A DARING PLAN_
Elated at the assignment, Flash rushed after Joe Wells to get his own
camera equipment.
“Glad Riley is sending you instead of Orris,” his friend commented
briefly.
On their way to the street, the two photographers stopped at the
cashier’s office, and were given an envelope containing nine hundred
dollars. Flash carefully placed it in an inside pocket.
Hailing a taxi, they rode directly to the harbor where Dave French
awaited them with his seaplane already warmed up for the trip.
“Think you’ll have any trouble contacting the _Belmonia_?” Wells asked
the pilot.
Dave French smiled and shook his head. “No, I have her position. But we
ought to get started so we can get back before dark.”
Flash and Joe climbed into the cockpit. Before the plane could take to
the water, a man came out of a building, and ran toward them, waving his
hand.
“Hold it!” he shouted.
Dave French throttled down and waited.
“Now what?” muttered Joe Wells.
“Riley of the _Ledger_ just telephoned,” the man informed. “He says the
captain of the _Belmonia_ refuses to pick up a passenger.”
“Then the trip is off!” Wells exclaimed in disgust. “I was afraid of
this. Sorenson is one of the worst crabs on the line.”
“Did Riley say we were to come back to the office?” Flash inquired
thoughtfully.
“He didn’t say anything about that. His message was that the captain
wouldn’t pick up a passenger.”
Wells had started to climb from the cockpit, but Flash pulled him back.
“Wait, Joe! I have an idea!”
“Spill it.”
“Riley didn’t order us not to make the trip. Why don’t we try anyway?”
“That _is_ a brilliant brain wave,” Wells said scornfully. “We’d have a
trip for nothing, run up a nice bill, and get fired for our trouble!”
“Maybe not, Joe. We’d be taking a chance all right, but I have a hunch
we can get aboard the _Belmonia_.”
“How?”
“Listen, Joe, sea captains are supposed to have humanitarian instincts,
aren’t they? If Sorenson saw a fellow swimming in the ocean miles from
shore wouldn’t steam away and let him drown, would he?”
“Sorenson might,” replied Wells. “No ordinary trick will work with him.
But what’s your scheme?”
“It’s simple. Dave flies us out to meet the _Belmonia_. When we’re
certain we’ve attracted attention, one of us jumps overboard—”
“Breaking a leg, smashing six ribs, not to mention a neck—”
“It could be done, couldn’t it?” Flash demanded of the pilot.
“Yes, I could fly low enough so a person wouldn’t be slapped very hard,”
Dave French answered reluctantly. “But why not land the plane on the
water?”
“With a seaplane handy, Sorenson never would pick up a fellow. My idea
is to jump, then have the plane fly back to shore.”
“And who is to do the jumping, brother?” inquired Wells.
“I will. I’m a pretty fair swimmer.”
“Do you realize that if Sorenson doesn’t pick you up, it would mean
curtains?”
“He will,” Flash said confidently. “The only risk is that he might not
see me in the water. But if I jump it will attract attention.”
“The idea is just crazy enough that it might work,” Wells said slowly.
“I’m sure it will! Let’s try it!”
“See here! You’re overlooking one point—an important one,” said Wells.
“How are you going to protect your money? You’ll have to keep it dry.”
“I can get you a waterproof container,” the pilot offered quickly.
“And I can use it to protect the films after I get them,” added Flash.
“Sorenson may be decent enough to put me off in a boat so I can contact
the plane for the return trip. If he doesn’t, I’ll jump.”
“We’ll have to arrange an exact schedule,” Dave French declared. “How
long will you need aboard the ship?”
“Give me three quarters of an hour from the time I first jump,” Flash
decided. “That ought to be long enough.”
“A man can drown in thirty seconds,” murmured Wells gloomily. “But if
you’re willing to try it, I shouldn’t kick.”
A waterproof container was quickly found. Then Dave French speeded up
the motors, and the big seaplane scooted along the water. The waves were
fairly heavy. Several times before flying speed was attained, the ship
was thrown a little way into the air, but each time the pilot minimized
the stall by pushing the stick forward. In a moment the plane took off
smoothly and climbed.
Flash transferred his money to the waterproof container which he pinned
securely inside his shirt. He divested himself of shoes and coat, but
decided not to use the life-belt which the pilot had procured for him.
He was afraid it might check his fall into the sea too suddenly, thus
adding to the shock of impact.
The plane flew steadily eastward, sighting small sailing boats and
larger vessels. Presently, Dave French throttled down, and pointed to a
large steamship which could be seen some distance away.
“The _Belmonia_!” he shouted.
Flash’s pulse quickened and a queer feeling came into the pit of his
stomach. His plan had seemed simple back on land. But now, peering down
at the ruffled surface of the water far below, he realized what a small
speck a swimmer must appear to a lookout stationed on the _Belmonia_.
“Better give it up,” admonished Joe Wells, with a worried frown.
Flash shook his head and, feeling of his money to be certain it was
securely fastened, signaled Dave French that he was ready.
The plane drove steadily on and circled the _Belmonia_ twice. Flash and
Joe waved, but the only response they received was from a few of the
passengers. Obviously, the captain of the vessel had no intention of
lowering a boat so they might board.
“All right, I’ll jump!” Flash said. “Any time, Dave.”
The pilot brought the plane lower and motioned for the photographer to
get out on the right wing. While Joe helped give him support, Flash
struggled from the cockpit. The wind struck him full in the face and,
catching him off guard, nearly toppled him from his perch before he was
ready to make the plunge. He recovered and clung tightly.
“We’ll wait to see that you’re picked up,” Wells shouted.
“No!” Flash hurled back.
He was convinced that as long as the seaplane remained in the vicinity,
Captain Sorenson never would rescue him.
The plane dropped lower and lower until it flew level not more than
fifty feet above the surface of the sea. Dave waggled the wings
slightly, a signal that it was time to jump.
For an instant, Flash’s courage nearly failed him. Never in his life had
he dived more than thirty feet. The water looked miles away. But he
dared not think about it or he would be lost.
Taking a deep breath, he jumped. As he shot down feet foremost, Joe
Wells shouted something after him which sounded suspiciously like: “Get
names!”
At the moment, Flash’s one concern was to keep from losing his balance
and being toppled head over heels in the air. He must strike the water
feet first. If he didn’t, he would suffer a nasty blow, and perhaps
crack a rib or injure his back.
Fighting a desire to look downward, he kept his head held high. Straight
as a bullet he shot downward, gathering speed. The wind rushed past his
face, taking his breath.
Then the water loomed up and he bent slightly to take it with as little
shock as possible. Even so, he struck it with a resounding crack and a
jar which shook every muscle.
The force of the fall plunged Flash to a tremendous depth. He fought his
way to the surface, only to have a wave sweep over his head, burying him
again.
Once more he struggled up, gasping for breath. Taking air in great
gulps, he rolled over on his back and rested.
The seaplane had banked and was heading in the direction of shore. Three
hundred yards away the _Belmonia_ plowed steadily on her course.
Flash waited a moment and then began to wave to attract attention. He
felt certain the skipper of the _Belmonia_ must be aware of his plight,
yet there was no indication from the steamship that he had been seen.
Wave upon wave pounded down upon the photographer, burying him and
cutting off his view of the steamship. Minutes passed, and Flash’s panic
grew. The seaplane no longer was visible as a speck in the sky so he
could not expect rescue from his friends. What a fool he had been! He
had not realized that he must battle such high waves. Unless the
_Belmonia_ picked him up he could not hope to keep afloat until Wells
and French returned.
“Sorenson must have seen me jump,” he thought bitterly. “But he has no
intention of taking me aboard. He means to let me drown!”