A RESCUE BY AEROPLANE.
"Men, I have an announcement to make," said Lieutenant De Frees, when
they had all assembled with their various types of machines. Ned
noticed that the officer held in his hand a sheet of blue paper of
official appearance. It was closely covered with typewritten matter.
"Py golly, vot now comes?" whispered Hans to Mulligan.
"Whist, can't ye, and listen to the officer!" warned Mulligan.
Like the rest, the two whisperers fell into attitudes of deep attention.
"As you all are aware," began the officer, "it is the purpose of the
navy to determine the advisability of equipping every vessel in the
fleet with an aeroplane suitable for bomb dropping or scout duty.
Naturally one of the most essential features of such a craft would
be its ability to fly both to and from the parent ship. In other
words, not only must it be able to fly from the ship to the shore, a
comparatively simple matter, but it must be able to land back on the
deck of the ship from whence it came--a far more hazardous feat."
"Vos is idt, dot 'haz-az-abluss'?" whispered Hans.
"You all follow my meaning?" asked the officer.
A chorus of "Aye, aye, sir," came from the throats of the "Aviation
Class."
"Py Chimmy Hill, I follow you all righd, budt I'm a long, long vay
behindt, as der terrapin remarked to der rappit," commented Hans in
a low undertone which was lost in the hearty roar of the concerted
response.
"Very good," resumed the officer. "Now, then, I have here," he
referred to the sheet of typewritten paper, "an announcement from the
department that one week hence a landing platform will be erected on
the after-deck of the _Manhattan_. She will anchor in the Roads, and
those desiring to attempt the feat of landing on her deck may notify me
at the earliest opportunity. I may add, that to the successful aviator,
will accrue an award of $100, beside certain promotion for efficiency."
"Nodt for vun million billion bundtles of dollars vould I preak my
neck," commented Hans to Mulligan.
"By gorry, Dutchy, I don't blame ye. 'Twould be a day's wu-urk fer a
burrd to do the thrick," was the response.
"We will now take up morning practice," came the next announcement.
"I think that some of you are far enough advanced to try passenger
carrying across country. Strong, I assign you to take up Taylor.
Merritt, you will carry Chance as your companion."
A sort of buzz of excitement ran through the squad, as the chosen ones
hurried off to make ready.
"The remainder of the squad," came the next order, "will resume
ordinary practice."
"Dot's all ve do, is resuming," muttered Hans. "I hope I don't resume
my sneezing, py crickety."
It did not take Ned and Herc long to get ready. With a buzz and whirr,
they were up and into the air before Merritt and Chance got their
engines tuned up. No directions as to the course they should take had
been given them, so Ned headed the flying machine off inland, where
fields and hedges showed in a pretty patchwork beneath them, with a rim
of blue mountains in the distance.
"Say, this is great," exclaimed Herc, as they sped on,--
"Take a trip up to the sky;
Say, but it's a dream to fly;
From the ground we'll take a jump,
I hope we don't land with a bump."
"You're improving as a poet every minute," laughed Ned, his alert eyes
peering straight ahead and his hands firmly grasping the controlling
wheel. "Let's hope you're not a prophet as well as a poet. By the way,
just take a look round and see if you can catch a glimpse of those
other two fellows."
"I see them, about ten miles behind," announced Herc presently.
"They're coming right ahead, too. Traveling at a faster clip than we
are, I judge."
"Let them risk their necks if they want to. We'll jog along easily,"
replied Ned.
For some time they sped on, above pastures and grain fields, and
patches of woodland and meadow, threaded here and there by narrow
streams which glittered in the bright sunlight like silver ribbons. It
was, as Herc had said, "great." The blood ran faster, and every nerve
tingled invigoratingly under the stimulus of the rapid advance through
the air. All about them the shining stay-wires hummed and buzzed,
giving out a shrill accompaniment to the steady drone of the motor.
"I'll slow down a bit now," said Ned presently. "I'm anxious to see
how she'll behave at reduced speed with extra weight on board."
As he shut down the power, the aeroplane descended perceptibly. The
added weight of another passenger made her far less buoyant, as was to
have been expected.
They were quite low, hovering like a big hawk above a small farm-house,
when a sudden scream from below was borne to their ears quite
distinctly.
"Hullo! What's that?" exclaimed Ned.
"It was a woman screaming," was the rejoinder. "We'd better drop down
and see what's the trouble."
"Just what I think. It came from that farm-house."
"I know. Hold on tight, now; I'm going to drop fast."
Like a stone the aeroplane fell. The rapidity of the drop made both the
aviators gasp. Just as it seemed inevitable that they must be dashed
to bits on the ground beneath, Ned, by a skilful bit of airmanship,
brought his craft to a level keel, and alighted without a jolt.
They came to earth in an open meadow at the rear of the farm-house,
a white-painted, green-shuttered place of comfortable appearance. As
the machine stopped its motion, both lads leaped out and began running
toward the house. As they neared it, a voice struck on their ears:
"Come on, now; no nonsense. Give me the money your husband has hidden
here, or I'll hurt you."
Had the two Dreadnought Boys been able to see through the walls of the
house, they would have beheld a terrified woman, in a gingham gown
and white apron, cowering before a heavy-set man, who was brandishing
a stout club. The fellow's look was desperate. His deep little eyes
glittered menacingly under heavy, black brows. His bluish, bristly chin
thrust forward truculently.
"Take these silver spoons," the woman begged, "and leave me alone. They
are all I have."
"Don't try lying to me," growled the man, stepping forward a pace. "It
won't go. I've heard around here that your husband is a miser, and I
want the money he has hidden. Come, now, are you going to give it to
me, or----"
He raised the club threateningly.
The woman paled, but stood her ground bravely.
"I have given you all the valuables we have in the house," she said.
"If anyone told you my husband was a miser, they must have done it out
of malice. We are poor farmers, and----"
"That'll do! That'll do! I'm tired of argying with yer. I'll look for
myself. Stand aside, and look jumpy now, or----"
A scream burst from the woman's lips, as her brutal annoyer came toward
her, his upper lip curled in a snarl.
But he had not advanced more than a couple of paces before an
unexpected interruption occurred. A third voice struck into the scene.
"Stop right where you are, Bill Kennell, or there'll be trouble."
Kennell, for it was the disgraced and desperate bully formerly of
the _Manhattan_, whipped round in a flash. His recognition of the
Dreadnought Boys, who stood in the opened kitchen door, was swift as
theirs had been of him.
"Ned Strong!" he exclaimed in a husky voice.
"Not forgetting Herc Taylor, Bill," grinned the freckle-faced youth.
"You don't seem exactly glad to see us."
"Oh, whoever you are, thank heaven you have come!" cried the woman. She
reeled backward, overcome by the reaction of her feelings, and would
have fallen if Herc had not jumped forward and seized her in his arms.
At the same instant, Kennell, who had lost none of his former agility,
crouched and sprung like a wildcat at Ned. But if he had thought to
catch the Dreadnought Boy off his guard, he was dreadfully mistaken.
Ned jumped nimbly to one side, as Kennell rushed at him, and the bully
carried by the impetus of his onrush, crashed against the wall. He
recovered himself in an instant and came back at Ned with formidable
force. But once more Ned was ready for him. The Dreadnought Boy dived
suddenly, as Kennell raised his knotted club, and, coming up under the
man's arm, caught him a blow on the chin that caused the former bully
of the _Manhattan_ to reel and stagger.
But, as if he had been prepared for some such result of his onslaught,
Kennell, without an instant's loss of time, produced a pistol from
somewhere amid his tattered garments.
Before Ned could make another move, a hot flame fanned his face; a loud
report rang in his ears, and he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his
head. Then he lost consciousness.
As he fell with a crash against a chair, bringing it a splintered
wreck to the floor with him, Herc deposited the fainting woman on an
old-fashioned settee, and sprang with a roar of anger at Kennell. But
as he did so, two other figures suddenly appeared in the open doorway
of the farm-house kitchen.
"It's Bill Kennell!" cried one of them, who was no other than Merritt.
He and Chance had seen Ned's descent, and had dropped, too, to see if,
perchance, some bad luck had not overtaken their rivals. Hearing the
uproar in the kitchen, they had hastened to it.
As Herc fairly leaped on Kennell, before the ruffian had a chance to
fire another shot, Merritt took in the whole situation with the quick
intuition of a man of his intellect.
Kennell, with Herc on the top of him, was tottering backward, and on
the verge of falling helplessly before his powerful young antagonist,
when Merritt, with a quick movement, picked up a heavy chair. Raising
it, he brought it down with all his might on the unconscious Herc's
head. The next instant the two Dreadnought Boys lay senseless on the
floor of the kitchen, one of them seemingly badly wounded.