GRACE TAKES THE SKY ROUTE
The morning was cool and there were wind clouds on the horizon when
Grace Harlowe stepped out to take an observation just at daybreak on
the following morning. She scanned the sky for some moments, but saw no
more carrier pigeons.
Across the river the enemy was moving. She could see them plainly
through her glasses and it gave her a queer feeling. Here within pistol
range were the hosts of the enemy that had laid France in ruins, that
had killed and wounded hundreds of thousands of her own countrymen,
moving out into their own land, a land on which hardly a shell had
fallen in the four years of desperate warfare. It wasn’t fair, it
wasn’t right, as Grace reasoned it out with some bitterness. Could the
enemy have been driven back by force of arms and hammered until his
hosts poured into the Rhine in a perfect cataract, she confessed to
herself that she would have felt better over the situation. But there
they were, taking their time to retire and without a shot being fired
at them. The Overton girl actually shuddered to think what a different
situation would exist at that moment had victory crowned the arms of
the enemy.
Grace shrugged her shoulders and went back to awaken Elfreda and start
the fire for breakfast.
“If the captain has not gone out, please give him some breakfast. I
must hurry with mine, for I am going over to report to our superior
that we are off duty to-day; that is, I am. You will be on call.”
“Are you going to report to her?” demanded Miss Briggs disapprovingly.
“Yes. I have no way of getting word to her, and by the time we drive
back to the balloon base she may be on her way. The army is to make an
early start to-day, I understand. It will take a long time to cross the
bridges. What an opportunity for the enemy; but he knows better. He
knows that the American artillery is trained on him and that machine
guns are ready to sweep his ranks from this side of the river. Our
people are taking no chances.”
“They are familiar with the breed,” nodded Miss Briggs.
Grace ate a hurried breakfast, and leaving her equipment with Elfreda
started out at a brisk pace for the headquarters of Mrs. Chadsey
Smythe. As she drew near the cottage she saw some one emerge from it.
This some one proved to be the maid, Marie Debussy.
“Good morning, Marie. Where are you going?”
The girl answered dully that she was going to fetch Madame’s mess.
“You have been crying, what is the trouble?”
“Oh, Madame, it is terrible! Because I came late the supervisor would
not let me in last night. She was in a terrible temper. I sat out all
night and this morning she abused me terribly. Can you not do something
for me? I should like so much to be with you and Miss Briggs, for you
are so kind. She will abuse you if you go to her this morning. Please
don’t go.”
“I presume there will be more trouble if I do,” reflected Grace. “Will
you deliver a message to her for me, Marie?”
“Yes, surely, Madame.”
“Tell her, please, that I am relieved from duty for the day, that I am
to spend the day with Major Colt in his balloon, with the permission of
General Gordon, but that I shall report for duty to-morrow morning. I
am sorry Mrs. Smythe is so unkind to you, but do try to get along with
her until we reach the Rhine. I am sure there will be a change soon
after we get there. Please tell her that Miss Briggs will go through
in Major Colt’s car to-day with Captain Boucher of the Intelligence
Department and some others.”
“I will tell her. I hope I may live with you and work for you when we
reach the Rhine. I can do much for you. I will do any and all things
for you. We go to Coblenz, I am told.”
Grace said that was her understanding.
“I shall be afraid with so many of the Boches about.”
“Don’t worry, Marie, you will be protected. I am so sorry you are in
trouble, but I promise you it will all come out right and that you soon
shall be back in your beloved France, just as I hope to be back in my
much-loved country. Good-bye, and don’t forget the message.”
Elfreda and Captain Boucher were eating breakfast together when
“Captain” Grace arrived. He advised Grace to take rations with her, as
the balloon probably would not come down, unless forced down, until
night, adding that the rest of the equipment would be placed in the
army car, where she would find it, or in Miss Briggs’ billet that
evening.
Immediately after breakfast Captain Boucher ordered his attendant to
pack up, and to assist the ladies in shipping their belongings when the
car arrived. He asked them to have the car pick him up at the cottage
on the return from the balloon base.
“I shall not see you again, as I am going out,” he said shaking hands
cordially with Grace. “Good luck and don’t fall out.”
“So long as the basket keeps right side up I expect to be with it,”
replied the Overton girl brightly. “Good-bye, sir, and thank you.”
“If I thought you would be in position to settle a wager, Loyalheart,
I should like to lay a wager that that big sausage balloon comes down
a hopeless wreck with you at the bottom of the heap,” observed Miss
Briggs.
“Your reasoning is bad, J. Elfreda. Were we to make such a wager and I
returned in condition to pay up, don’t you see that you would lose? I
am not a lawyer, but my logic on rare occasions is really brilliant.
Any rebuttal?”
“Not a word,” answered Elfreda, shrugging her shoulders. “I think the
car is coming.”
Everything being ready the Overton girls were soon on their way to the
balloon base, that is, on the way to Major Colt’s balloon base, for
the sausage observation balloons were strung out over a line several
miles in length. The big gas bag was swaying, chafing at its bit, as
Grace characterized it, when they reached the base. They observed that
the huge bag was attached by a cable to a big, heavy army truck, the
shining cable being wound about a drum on a winch. As the army moved,
the truck moved, and the crew either paid out the cable or wound it in,
as the officer in the basket far above them wished to go up or down.
The cable looked a too slender thread to hold such a giant of a thing
as a big observation balloon. Elfreda shook her head disapprovingly as
she looked at the outfit with wide-open eyes.
“I’ll bet you really wish you were going up, too,” teased Grace, having
observed the expression on the face of her companion.
“What! Never! I have no ambition to go skyward on a bubble. The bubble
might burst.”
“In the first place, this isn’t a bubble, and in the second place I
am not going to make a spectacular leap in a parachute. Good morning,
Major,” greeted “Captain” Grace as the car drew up near where the
officer, clad in his flying togs, was giving directions to the men.
“How soon do we take the sky route?”
“In a few minutes, Mrs. Gray. Good morning, Miss Briggs. Looks like
wind to-day. Ever get sea-sick, Mrs. Gray?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you should not be air-sick. Sometimes we flop about a bit, but we
shall be all right.”
“Is--is that the thing that you ride in?” questioned Elfreda pointing
to the basket that was resting on the truck.
The major laughingly said it was.
“It does look rather too delicate for two human beings to ride in,”
agreed Grace. “I hope it is stronger than it looks.”
The officer assured her that it would hold, though its smallness did
not permit of much moving about.
“Flying now, as compared with wartime, is a perfectly safe sport. It
is different when enemy artillery are trying to pot one, and enemy
airplanes are dropping incendiary bombs at you or trying to rake you
with machine-gun fire. That sometimes makes it quite interesting for
the balloonist. As a matter of common prudence, however, we always
attach ourselves to parachutes, as we will do this morning,” added the
major.
J. Elfreda shot a significant glance at her companion and Grace looked
a little troubled, but this soon passed and she began asking questions
about the parachute. She observed that two of them were attached to the
basket.
“Our parachutes,” explained the major, “when open are thirty-five feet
in diameter, with a circular hole in the top about a foot wide to
permit the imprisoned air to escape. Otherwise the parachute would go
into a side-slip in making a descent.”
“Cheerful, isn’t it?” observed Miss Briggs under her breath.
“Fastened to the edge of the parachute, as you can see, are small
cords which lead down and attach to half as many light ropes, finally
terminating in only two ropes which are fastened to the harness worn
by the person for whose use the parachute is intended,” continued the
major. “That cone-shaped case contains the entire works. I’ll not go
into the mechanism of the contrivance in detail. When a man prepares to
descend, the harness being already on him, the parachute is pulled from
the case and out he jumps. Then all he has to do is to wait for the
parachute to open.”
“Quite simple, sir,” agreed Elfreda. “All one has to do is to jump, and
wait. If the parachute breaks or doesn’t open you keep on waiting. Is
that it, Major?”
The major laughingly agreed that it was.
“It is well to understand the workings before one goes up. I know it
all sounds formidable to you, but it isn’t at all formidable. See that
you are fastened all right and make certain that your harness has not
fouled, then jump.”
“Do parachutes ever fail to open?” questioned Grace soberly.
“I have heard of such cases, but not in this war. If one thinks fast
and clearly and doesn’t lose his head, the chances are that he will be
all right.”
“How far does one ordinarily drop before the parachute opens?” asked
Miss Briggs.
“About fifty feet, sometimes a little less if one is heavy. If light,
he might fall much further than this.”
“Heavens!” exclaimed J. Elfreda. “Grace, I’m sorry for you. Being light
you may fall a mile before the thing opens, and by that time you may
have no need for a parachute.”
“I should think one would land pretty hard,” suggested Grace.
“About the equivalent of jumping from a fence. The descent is very
easy, about five hundred feet a minute. However, there will be no need
for worry to-day. I am explaining these matters merely as a matter of
routine and ordinary prudence. I can imagine no emergency that would
make it necessary for you to take the jump into space. If I did, I
shouldn’t be taking you up. No, there is no possibility of such a
thing. Now, if you will step down we will get you into your flying togs
and harness you to the parachute.”
For a moment Grace Harlowe’s courage weakened, but only for a moment.
“If I can go through a battle in the air in an airplane, I surely can
ride in a captive balloon, even if the basket I am to ride in does look
like a toy spaniel’s sleeping basket,” she told herself. “I am ready,
sir,” she announced, stepping down.
A heavy flying coat and helmet were put on, then came the harness. The
latter was adjusted while Grace was standing on the ground, the major
fixing her up before donning his own harness, examining it with a care
that sent the cold chills up and down the spine of J. Elfreda Briggs.
“Does it pinch you anywhere?” asked the major. “You know it must fit
firmly.”
“I think it is quite comfortable,” replied Grace. “Now what do I do?”
“Climb up the ladder and get in, being careful that you do not foul the
lines.”
The officer stood on the ground to watch her getting in to make certain
that the parachute ropes did not become tangled. Grace ran up the
ladder nimbly and climbed over into the basket, which was just deep
enough to leave her head and shoulders showing above its upper edge.
“All set,” cried the major, going up the ladder. “Let up gently.
I’ll direct you as we go as to altitude. You see, Mrs. Gray, we are
connected with the truck by a telephone wire, so that the observer
may be always in contact not only with his base, but also with the
artillery control station. We spot in wartime, both for marks and
for results. Sorry I can’t show you some spotting under actual war
conditions.”
“I am quite content to have you tell me about it,” laughed Grace.
The major grinned, then tested the telephone, adjusted the aneroid
barometer, took a final glance around, and nodded to the flight
sergeant. The latter blew two short whistles, and as if for good
measure bellowed “Let go!”
“Better come along,” called down Grace to Elfreda who with one hand
shading her eyes was gazing up at them, her face a little pale.
Miss Briggs shook her head.
“One balloonatic in the family is enough,” she cried, then something
seemed to be drawing the earth away from Grace Harlowe, and she
suddenly realized that they were going up.