CAUGHT IN A THUNDERSTORM
“Fred, what do you say if we take a flight together this afternoon?
There is no wind and I guess we can have a good time.”
“All right, Joe,” answered the stout youth. “Where shall we fly to?”
“I was thinking it might be quite a stunt to fly to Pine Island and
visit our old camping place.”
“Say, that would be a scheme!” cried Fred, enthusiastically. “But can
we find a suitable place for landing?”
“I think so. Don’t you remember that big bare spot where we once shot a
lynx? I think that will make a dandy landing place.”
“So it will. Yes, let us go by all means--we’ll have the whole
afternoon to ourselves.”
This talk took place two days after the letters about the aviation
contests had been sent to Brookside and to Haverford. So far no answers
had been received. The day was an ideal one, and Joe and Fred found
themselves alone, the other boys having gone elsewhere, some for
pleasure and others on errands for their folks.
Neither Joe nor Fred had been up to Pine Island for some time. The
island was a large one, located near the head of the lake, and had
been the scene of many hunting and camping-out affairs of the boys
of Lakeport. It was there that the Gun Club of Lakeport had gone, in
company with old Joel Runnell, and shot many wild animals and had had
“the time of their lives,” as Harry often expressed it.
It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and Joe and Fred devoted
the hour before dinner to getting the _Skylark_ ready for the trip.
Then the oil box was filled up, also the gasoline tank, and Joe made a
short trial trip, to test the biplane.
“Where are you going, Joe?” asked his mother, as she noticed him
hurrying through his midday meal.
“Oh, Fred and I are going to take a trip up the lake,” he answered.
“In the flying machine?”
“Yes.”
“Then be very careful,” went on Mrs. Westmore, and heaved a little
sigh. Although she was growing a little accustomed to these flights in
the air, still down in her heart she was sorry the lads had taken up
aviation.
“Feels to me a little like a storm,” remarked Mr. Westmore. “So you had
better not get too far from home.”
“A storm, Dad?” queried the son. “Why, the sky is as clear as a bell!”
“I know, but it feels like rain, nevertheless,” went on the father.
“You be careful.”
A little after one o’clock found Joe and Fred wheeling the _Skylark_
out to the starting field. Some town boys were on hand and ready to
give all the assistance necessary.
It had been arranged that Joe should steer the biplane on the outward
trip, as it was thought he might be able to make just the right landing
on the island. Fred would be at the wheel coming back.
The aircraft went up with scarcely an effort, the town boys cheering
loudly, as was their custom. The young aviators were in the best of
spirits and anticipated a grand outing. Both had now gotten over their
timidity when in the air, and could thoroughly enjoy a flight.
Joe made a circle over the town and then headed up the lake. He knew
the way well, and as there was scarcely any wind, the steering of the
biplane was easy. They went at a slow rate of speed and at a height of
less than two hundred feet, and both sat back, to enjoy the panorama
that was rolled out under them. They could see the sparkling waters of
the lake, dotted here and there with sailboats and other craft, and on
either side the meadows and hills, with their tidy farms and stretches
of woodland. Here and there was a rocky point, and Joe noted one in
particular--on which he and some other lads had nearly been wrecked in
the Shale sloop.
The motor of the biplane was working well, and occasionally Joe amused
himself by putting on a burst of speed, and by making big turns to the
right and the left. But at these Fred shook his head and pointed ahead
to the island, showing that he wanted to get there. Truth to tell, the
stout lad was rather dubious concerning the landing they expected to
make.
Presently they saw Pine Island looming up before them,--a perfect gem
of green trees and bushes set in the midst of the blue waters of the
lake. Joe slowed down the motor and allowed the biplane to move over
the island slowly, and both the aircraft boys gazed down anxiously,
trying to discover the cleared spot Joe had mentioned.
At last they found the locality and sailed over it. It seemed to be as
clear as ever, only some grass and a few low bushes showing. Joe nodded
to his chum and Fred nodded in return, to show that he was satisfied.
Then the _Skylark_ was brought around in a wide half-circle, and Joe
headed for the spot and shut off the motor.
It was not an easy landing and they barely escaped the branches of a
tree at the edge of the clearing. They ran over several bushes, bumped
over a few small stones, and came to a halt twenty feet from the
opposite side of the clearing.
“Good for you, Joe!” cried Fred, as he leaped to the ground. “I guess
no professional aviator could make a better landing than that.”
“Wonder if anybody is on the island,” said Joe, as he, too, jumped to
the ground.
“Perhaps. It is getting to be quite a picnic place, so I have heard.
A Bralham Sunday school came here on a picnic during August, and the
Chowder Club of Brookside came here in July.”
The two youths looked over the airship, to see that everything was
all right, and then started for a short stroll over the island. They
visited one of the spots where they had once camped out, and Fred
pointed out the place where he had gotten some small game. Then they
stopped at a spring where the water was cold and clear, and got a
drink.
“Hello! what’s that?” exclaimed Joe, while they were resting near the
spring. “Hark!”
Both listened and heard a faint sound stirring through the trees.
Ordinarily they would not have paid any attention to this, but now it
meant much to them.
“The wind is coming up!” cried Fred. “Say, I don’t like that!”
“Neither do I,” answered Joe. “Perhaps we had better get back, before
it comes on a regular blow, Fred.”
“I think so myself. Come on!”
The young aviators leaped up and hurried to where the _Skylark_ had
been left. They had to walk quite a distance, and by the time they
reached the clearing they were further alarmed to see the sun disappear
behind a mass of heavy, black clouds to the westward. Then came the
unmistakable rumble of thunder.
“My father was right--it is going to rain,” said Joe. “Come, we haven’t
a minute to spare--if we want to get to Lakeport before the storm
breaks.”
“Do you think we can make it, Joe?” asked his chum, anxiously.
“I don’t know, but we can try--unless you want to stay here in the
storm.”
“No, I’d rather get home--and get the _Skylark_ in the hangar. It might
get damaged out here--if it blows real hard.”
Without further words the aircraft boys made ready to leave the island.
The biplane was run to the extreme end of the clearing and they beat
down some bushes and removed some stones that lay in its path. Then
they made a quick start, Fred at the wheel and Joe in the seat beside
him.
Getting up into the air was comparatively easy, and they hit nothing
more damaging than the small upper limbs of a tall tree. But as soon
as they were above the woods, the _Skylark_ felt the force of the wind
and careened wildly to the left. As quick as lightning Fred shifted the
necessary controls and brought the biplane up to a level keel. Then he
brought the craft around and started in the direction of Lakeport.
By this time the sky was dark all around the aircraft and the rain had
begun to fall. The wind was increasing and it came in fitful gusts that
were extremely trying to the young aviators’ nerves. Then came a streak
of lightning that was all but dazing, and a sharp crack of thunder.
[Illustration: THEN CAME A STREAK OF LIGHTNING THAT WAS ALL BUT DAZING.]
Fred and Joe looked at each other and both shook their heads. Each
wanted to speak, but, as mentioned before, talking with the motor in
operation was out of the question. Both realized that the storm was
likely to prove too much for them, and that they had better try to make
a landing as soon as possible.
When Fred looked at his chum again Joe pointed to the mainland that was
nearest to the island, and the lad at the wheel nodded. Then came more
thunder and lightning, followed by another rush of wind. The _Skylark_
was tilted up on one side and for an instant it looked as if the flying
machine would go over. But Fred kept his wits about him and brought the
craft around once more.
What to do next neither of the lads knew, and afterwards both said they
fully expected to be thrown into the lake. To manage the biplane in
those fierce gusts of wind was next to impossible. The aircraft drifted
hither and thither, Fred having all he could do to keep the biplane
from going over.
The boys had been up but a few minutes--although to them it seemed an
age--when there came a brief lull in the wind, and a lightening of the
sky directly overhead. But both could see that the storm was by no
means at an end.
Both looked down and saw below them the very island they had left.
Just ahead was the cleared spot. Quickly Joe motioned to it, and nodded
his head, as if to advise his chum to descend. Fred was willing, and
shaping their course as well as he was able, the stout youth shut off
the power, and down they came with a rush.
They struck some bushes and bumped along over the uneven ground. Both
were well shaken up, but no damage was done to either the boys or the
flying machine. Then they dragged the _Skylark_ under the tallest of
the trees and there staked it fast, so that it might not be blown
around by the wind and wrecked.
By this time the sky had darkened once more and the rain was coming
down in a deluge. Occasionally would come a flash of lightning,
followed by a peal of thunder that would roll over the lake and among
the hills beyond.
“Say, I’m mighty glad we didn’t try to get home,” remarked Joe, as both
boys crouched down under the planes of the machine, to keep out of the
rain.
“We couldn’t have done it, Joe,” was the reply. “Why, I had all I could
do to keep her from going over! Excuse me from trying to sail in such a
wind!” And Fred shook his head seriously.
“Yes, we were lucky to get back here, Fred. I thought first we could
make the shore--to tell our folks by telephone that we were safe. But
never mind, we can stay here until it clears off.”
“Maybe it will rain and blow all night.”
“I don’t think so.”
After that the boys said but little. The wild flight in the air, even
though of short duration, had exhausted them, and they were content to
rest and let the elements take care of themselves. Both were pleased to
note that the lightning and thunder were growing more distant, showing
that the storm was moving away.
By five o’clock the rain was at an end and much of the wind had gone
down. The boys crawled out from under their shelter and gazed earnestly
at the sky.
“I think it will be all right in a little while,” cried Joe. “See, the
sun is beginning to shine again!”
“Let us wait a while and see,” returned Fred. He had no desire to
repeat his thrilling experience in the air.
The boys drew the biplane from under the big tree and looked it over
once more. They were just finishing this work when they heard a shout
from the edge of the woods, and the next moment saw Joel Runnell
approaching them.
“Hello, you here?” cried the old hunter. “I thought I heard something
like an airship or a motor boat around.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Joe. “Fishing?”
“Not to-day, Joe,” was the answer. “I came on rather a funny errand. I
heard that a strange man had been seen on this island, and I came over
to see if it might be Mr. Akers.”