GOAL!
“It’s too bad,” said Hiram, and the young aviator’s assistant was very
nearly at the point of tears.
“We can only make the best of it,” returned Dave, trying to be
philosophical. “At any rate, we made a grand run.”
“Yes, it’s something to beat the world’s record, even half the way,”
agreed Hiram. “But think of it—only for that awful break of Davidson
we’d have won the day!”
The two young airmen sat outside of a wretched little hotel, a part of a
remote fishing town on the island that had been “the forlorn hope” of
the _Albatross_. The giant airship had succeeded in reaching it.
As Dave sat rather gloomily reviewing experience and prospects, he could
not help but think of the past two nights and a day with a thrill. That
had been a desperate, hair-breadth dash of the crippled airship. Without
knowing all the technical details of their situation, Dave had read from
the tireless, feverish actions of Professor Leblance, that he was
rushing the _Albatross_ under a fearful strain of risk and suspense,
momentarily dreading a new and final disaster.
Before daylight, with a flabby gas bag and with the reserve engine
barely able to work the propellers, the _Albatross_ had settled down on
a desolate stretch of beach, practically a wreck.
“The mechanism has played out completely,” Leblance had asserted.
“According to the regulations of the international society, the flight
must end on the French or English mainland. We are two hundred miles
short. We might as well be two thousand.”
“Is there no possible chance of getting new machinery, of making
temporary repairs that will tide us over?” suggested Mr. King.
“Impossible, under days, even weeks,” replied the Frenchman. “On the
rule schedule a stay at any point over twelve hours cancels the right of
entry.”
It was, indeed, too bad—so near to success, so very close to goal! A
profound gloom had spread over every member of the airship crowd. The
islanders had viewed the strange craft with excited curiosity at first,
and had then gone back to their fishing. Davidson had been removed to a
room at the little hotel, young Brackett in charge as his nurse, and all
the others had taken up their quarters as well.
The young aviator and his comrade had been discussing the situation
seated on an overturned boat. Hiram at length arose with a dreary kind
of sigh and strolled aimlessly back towards the hotel. Dave sat thinking
deeply. He started up, however, as he saw Brackett coming towards him.
“Dashaway,” he said quite excitedly, “I’ve got to get back to my charge,
don’t dare to leave him alone, you know but I wanted you to read
something,” and the speaker extended some folded sheets of paper.
“Why, what is this?” inquired the young aviator.
“You know I understand shorthand—humph! it’s about all I am good for, I
reckon,” added Elmer, in his usual deprecating way. “Well, for the past
hour or two my patient has been saying some strange things.”
“What about?” asked Dave—“the _Dictator_ and Jerry Dawson, I suppose?”
“You’ve guessed it. I’ve written out his ramblings in long hand. I fancy
your quick mind will weave a pretty startling story out of it all.”
“There’s the professor,” said Dave abruptly, “I’ll read your notes
later, Brackett,” and he thrust the sheets into his pocket, and started
towards the beach as he saw Professor Leblance leave the hotel, bound in
the same direction.
The failure of the ambitious Frenchman had almost crushed him. Dave felt
sorry for him as he noted the drooping head and dejected manner of the
scientist. He did not approach him closely, but followed him at a
distance. As they rounded some rocks the _Albatross_ came into full
view.
Professor Leblance, walking slowly, gazed with sadness upon the inert
monster of the air. Then he looked up at a hail. A fisherman was running
towards him. Dave noticed the professor brace up magically at the first
words of the native. The latter pointed to the air and the sea. His
pantomime was expressive and energetic.
There came a sudden blast of wind, and then Dave understood. He noticed
the professor start on a keen run for the _Albatross_. He was up the
trailing rope ladder sprightly as a lad, shouting some orders to the
fisherman, who ran towards the guy cable attached to a great tree trunk.
“It can’t be possible,” almost gasped the startled young airman, “that
Professor Leblance is thinking of trusting to the wind alone to finish
the flight. It’s true! I won’t be left behind!”
Dave caught at the ladder just as the propeller began to whir. By the
time he was in the cabin the earth was fading away. He threaded the
corridors in the direction of the engine room.
“Dashaway!” shouted the professor in amazement, as the young airman
burst in upon him.
“Yes, Professor, I am here,” said Dave. “You are going to make a try to
reach the mainland? I am with you.”
There was no time for compliments, explanations or delay. In two
minutes’ time the professor had made his assistant aware of what was
required of him. Practically only as a balloon could the _Albatross_ now
act, and only provided the strong wind maintained in precisely the
direction it was now set.
“See, my friend,” spoke Leblance, eagerly, “we have no control whatever
over the planes. The steering apparatus, too, is useless. The engine
will barely take care of the propellers. If you know how to operate
them, take my seat here. Keep the rudder locked firm. That is all we can
do. For the rest—it is a risk, a perilous risk.”
“Anything to get there!” cried Dave; and then the professor left him
alone.
The _Albatross_ had risen to a good altitude at her first spurt. She
drove with the wind at a wonderful rate of speed. At the end of an hour,
however, the young aviator noticed a gradual drop. The buoyancy of the
gas bag was lessening.
After that Dave heard the professor working with tools below the cabin.
He was quite startled as there was a jerk. Then he saw first one and
then the other of the aeroplane attachments go hurtling down to the
water, engulfed by the ocean.
Relieved of such an incubus the airship regained a higher level. Two
hours went by, then three. The professor appeared in a great state of
excitement and hopefulness.
“She’s dropping again, but don’t let up for an instant,” he ordered. “I
see the land ahead—two hours more, and we’ve made it.”
“Will the gas last?” inquired the young aviator, seriously.
“I am about to free our final reserve—one tank. That will do for a
spell. Then—if I have to explode the balloonets into the main gas
chamber, we must keep aloft till we are over land.”
Up—down—up—down—that was the progress for the next two hours. Once it
was nearly a volplane drift, and the dauntless young pilot of the
_Albatross_ fancied they were headed for a dive straight into the
ocean’s depths.
A final rise, and Dave’s heart cheered as he saw land not two miles
distant. Professor Leblance rushed into the engine room.
“Drift!” he ordered—“let her drop as she likes now—we have arrived!”
The brave old scientist tottered from excitement and exhaustion as he
spoke. A great, thrilling cheer seemed to lift from the lips of the
young aviator, and ten minutes later the _Albatross_, a wobbling,
flabby, weather-worn wreck, landed on a great dock in the sight of
waiting thousands.
“Boy,” spoke Professor Leblance, in a ringing tone and with sparkling
eyes, “we have reached goal! The giant airship has crossed the
Atlantic!”