FLYING FOR A RECORD.
On the day set for the flight to the _Manhattan_, which had anchored
two days before in the "Roads," Ned found that he was to be the only
competitor. Herc had been anxious to take part, and so had several of
the other naval aviators, but Lieutenant De Frees decided that the
aeroplane which Ned was to fly was the only one really suited for the
work.
This aeroplane, which had been equipped with pontoons, in order to
test Ned's invention, presented a peculiar appearance. Under its
substructure, long, galvanized metal tanks had been fitted, in much the
same way as runners are attached to a sled. The tanks were cylindrical
in shape, and provided with valves, by means of which they could be
"ballasted." They had been already tested and found to be suited for
the work for which they were designed. They were as light as was
compatible with safety, and hung far enough above the ground so as not
to interfere with the landing-wheels.
A holiday from routine practice had been declared about the aviation
testing grounds on the day of the daring flight. The men hung about in
little groups, discussing Ned's chances of winning out in the risky
feat he meant to perform. It would be the first time such a thing had
ever been attempted, and they were not slow to give him full measure of
praise for his daring.
The flight was to be more or less of a secret. Few on board the
battleship but the naval board invited to witness the attempt, knew
of the test. As a consequence, there was nobody about the grounds but
the regular quota of pupils and officers when, at 10:30 a. m. the
_Manhattan_ wirelessed to the "Field outfit" maintained on the grounds,
that all was in readiness for the trial.
A steel landing platform, made collapsible, so that it could be
instantly stowed away, had been erected on the after deck of the
battleship. Ned knew its approximate position, but the time had
been too brief to allow him to visit the vessel and make personal
observations. But if Ned realized the risk he ran in thus undertaking
a flight into the practically unknown, he did not show it. In fact, he
was the coolest person on the field.
At length all was in readiness, and, drawing on a pair of gauntlets,
and adjusting a life-preserver, Ned stepped up to the aeroplane and
clambered into his seat.
A minute later the roar of the motor, as he set it going, drowned
all other sounds. But the lad caught above the uproar of the engine
Lieutenant De Frees' shouted farewell:
"Good luck, my boy!"
Ned responded with a wave and a shouted cry:
"Thank you, sir."
The next instant he waved his hand in token that he was ready to start.
The men holding the struggling aeroplane released it, and it shot
forward, taking the air within a few feet of the starting point. It
rocketed skyward in a trail of blue smoke, leaving behind a reek of
gasolene and burning lubricating oil.
Ned directed his course as high as possible, for he wished thoroughly
to inspect the surroundings before he commenced his attempt. It
was a bright, clear day, almost windless. As he rose higher, the
glorious panorama of the open roadstead spread before his eyes. On its
glistening surface lay a dark object, like a slumbering leviathan. Ned
knew it in a flash for the anchored _Manhattan_--his goal.
Already a wireless had gone vibrating through the air announcing his
departure, and a dozen glasses were aimed at the sky from the big
fighting machine. Ned was watched for as eagerly as if he had been a
real aerial enemy.
The lad circled about for a few minutes, making sure that his motor
was working perfectly, and then he turned his prow toward the distant
warship.
Straight toward her he flew, holding his course as true as a homing
pigeon. The wind sang by his ears, and vibrated in the steel wire
rigging of his sky-clipper as he raced along. The motor's drone behind
him was as steady as a heart beat.
Ned's eyes shone with the desire of achievement. He was making a flight
which might have a material effect upon the future armament of United
States war vessels. He realized to the full the importance of his
flight, and how much depended on it.
All at once his practiced eye detected, on the mirror-like surface of
the stretch of water beneath him, a slight ruffle. It was some distance
off. But Ned knew it spelled only one thing:
Wind!
"Bother it all," he thought, "just like the luck. However, it will only
be a squall, I imagine."
He braced himself for a battle with the airman's greatest enemy. In
a few seconds the squall was upon him. For an instant the aeroplane
hesitated and thrilled like a live thing. Ned applied more power.
Like a horse under the whip, his aeroplane shot forward. Every bolt
and rivet in it strained and creaked under the tension. Ned was doing
a daring thing in bucking the wind and fighting with it, instead of
jockeying for some advantage.
But then Ned had a fighting nature in the best sense. An obstacle
only aroused him to fresh effort. "Obstacles are things made to be
conquered," he said, with another famous battler, whose name lives in
history.
Zee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!
The wind screamed and tore about him, while below, the water was lashed
into white-caps.
"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Ned to himself. "If anything parts, I'm due to
test out the floating abilities of the pontoons sooner than I expected."
But, although sadly racked and strained, the aeroplane, under her
operator's skilful handling, weathered the squall. Ned turned his
head and watched it go whistling and howling shoreward, with deep
satisfaction.
"A fine end to the test it would have been," he muttered, "if I'd been
dumped in the sea by a squall at the outset."
A few minutes later he was maneuvering above the big Dreadnought. The
vessel looked queer and dwarfed from the height at which he hovered.
But Ned could not help thinking what a fine object she would offer
for an aerial marksman. As the lad knew, there is a limit to the
perpendicular aiming of a gun, and skimming directly above the vessel,
as he was, it was doubtful if the most skilful gunner on board could
have hit his aeroplane.
At the stern of the big ship, the young aviator now noticed a
platform--evidently the one on which he was expected to land. His heart
gave a thump, as he gazed down on it.
"It doesn't look much bigger than a checkerboard," he thought, "and if
I don't hit it--wow! as Herc would say."
As carefully and coolly as if he were on a practice flight, Ned
regulated his levers. Then, with a quick intake of his breath, he
darted downward.
Down--down, he shot, the blood singing in his ears with the rapidity of
his descent. It was thrilling, desperate--dangerous!
Suddenly, as Ned placed his foot on a pedal and applied a warping
appliance, there was a sharp "crack!"
The aeroplane hesitated for an instant.
Then, without the slightest warning, it lurched in sickening fashion,
almost unseating him.
The next instant Ned was hurtling downward through space like a
plummet. Disaster, swift and certain, rushed up to meet him from the
steel fighting machine beneath.