“We’re not in the soldier business,” explained Captain Johnson to
the boys; “it’s just a ‘trying out’ on contract on which we are now
engaged. The old machine is somewhere in Ostend, and I guess it’s
going to be a dead loss to us. You ask how we broke out of Ypres. Well,
we convinced a good sport in authority that it was just the wind that
blew us into the German lines, and we would favor any gale that would
blow us out again.
“He had seen us as aërial performers once upon a time at Ostend, and
being an infantryman of the old school, he privately regarded the
whole flying fraternity in the light of circus stars. He did, however,
concede that if anything counted for much above ground, it was the
invention of his friend, Count Zeppelin.
“As matters warmed up around Ypres, we were hustled back to Ostend, and
hung around there for some time, on parole, they called it, until one
day we were permitted to board a hospital ship bound for Calais.
“We can’t show any scars, nor bullet holes in our clothes--not a thing
to add to our glorious achievement of turning you boys loose in the war
zone.”
The captain by this time had heard all about the adventures of his
young friends.
“In this fuel test,” he continued, “we can give you a lift that may
pretty near, if not quite, land you where you want to go. I wouldn’t
mind sailing into Paris myself, but there are no free agents at the
working end of a contract. I don’t know yet.”
“Wake me and shake me at the mouth of the Thames,” exulted Jimmy, “show
me the docks at Tilbury, see that there is a light in the window for me
at Dover, and then won’t I be the horse for the Paris wagon!”
“Bully boy!” applauded Josh.
“Now get snug, you youngsters,” said the captain--“two in the bow and
two aft with Josh.”
“Give her power, Freeman.”
The planes were set for the upward flight, and the course for the
Straits of Dover.
Reddy was the only “cat in a strange garret” when the sea-plane cut
through the air. The little Frenchman had never had a like sensation,
and he soon began to revel in it, even though he could look sheer down
through 3,000 feet of space and see the heaving sea.
The captain lowered the flight along the French coast, for the soldiers
all down the line had been warned not to fire on the sea-plane, it
having been generally announced in wireless orders that it was an
English airship out on a trial run. The schedule included Boulogne,
and the boys had the opportunity of looking down upon the city where
Napoleon had once encamped his troops.
Swinging ’round and circling backward, the sea-plane hovered over
Calais. Somebody had evidently forgotten orders, for when the big
machine was directly above the military governor’s headquarters a half
dozen or more soldiers seized their rifles and commenced firing at the
aviators. Out rushed an officer, crying:
“C’est un Anglais! C’est un Anglais! Ne tirez plus!” (It is an
Englishman! It is an Englishman! Stop firing!)
The sea-plane dropped into the harbor off Calais, and all except Josh,
remaining as faithful guardian of his precious motors, went ashore.
The captain there hoped to solve the problem of getting his young
friends safely to Paris, and the boys certainly wished him the best
kind of luck in the effort. Both French approval and English backing
would help some in the way of hastening unmolested progress.
On Rue de Moscow the boys discovered that these were days when there
was something doing every minute in Calais. Clouds of smoke rose from
sputtering motors, whizzing to and fro, some loaded with soldiers, some
with food, while others were hastening for the field of battle.
Refugees from almost everywhere in the war zone filled the town to the
point of overflow--and such a medley of French and Flemish! Men wearing
blood-stained bandages, old women, babies in arms, worn out and half
starved.
The great warehouses, the Hotel de Ville, the railway station, lace
factories, private residences, and even ships in the harbor, were used
as sleeping quarters.
“We can’t get away from it,” sighed Henri, as the party noted a limping
procession of Belgian soldiers caked with mud, worn faces covered with
three or four weeks’ growth of beard, and who looked like they had
exhausted the last drop of energy and patience they had.
“And they are coming in by the thousands,” volunteered a bystander.
The boys waited near the Maritime station while the captain made his
visit of state to one in authority, with whom he was well acquainted.
Presently the captain hove in sight, accompanied by a Belgian gendarme,
one of the force then engaged in patrolling the city. This was
evidently a guard of honor, for the captain had no appearance of being
disturbed by arrest.
“Now, youngsters,” he briskly announced, “there is a bit of a
conference arranged for you, so put on your best front. It won’t be
like a visit to a dentist, I assure you.”
In a street not far removed from the Victoria hotel, the captain
ushered his young charges into the vestibule of a pretentious looking
residence, and guided by a smiling secretary the visitors were soon in
the presence of a man of most distinguished bearing and cordial manner,
who instantly rose from his chair behind a desk littered with papers.
“I have the pleasure, I believe,” he said in English, with only a trace
of the softer accent, “of making the acquaintance of young men who fly
like birds, and, also, who have seen much in the battlefields.”
The boys bent their heads in acknowledgment of his kindly accusation.
“The captain here tells me that you have an important mission in Paris,
of a strictly personal nature,” continued the genial host, when all
were seated.
“We have, sir,” responded Henri.
“You are a Trouville, I understand?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Henri.
“I know that family well,” observed the questioner. “Some of my people
and yours, history tells, had mutual interests in the long ago.”
“I am very proud of that, sir.”
“Why, you are quite a young diplomat,” laughed the gentleman behind the
desk.
“But,” he continued, “it is at the present we are looking.”
“My dear Anglin,” turning to his ever smiling secretary, “hand me that
portfolio.”
From the portfolio case the speaker took a sealed packet, closed by red
wax, and tape-wound.
“In Paris, my dear boy,” addressing Henri, “you will deliver this
to the address written thereon, and,” in impressive tone, “I should
regret exceedingly if it should fall into any other hands than those
authorized to receive it.
“Remember that!
“The captain will give you all other necessary instructions.
“My young friends, permit me to say bon soir.” (Good evening.)