Fitzgerald was much worse. His long exposure in the flight to the
scene of the battle and during the battle, and the subsequent flight
to Honolulu, coupled with the extreme mental strain under which he had
labored, had produced such serious results that the doctors at the
post hospital were of the opinion that his recovery would be a very
long process, even with every chance favoring him. In fact they frankly
stated there was a strong possibility that he might not recover at all.
During the past two days he had been in a semi-conscious state, but
extremely restless. Throughout this period he uttered unintelligible
and incoherent sentences in long, rambling speeches, and he had not had
a single lucid moment. He had failed completely to recognize anyone who
approached him. Even Ingleton who called in the hospital in the hope of
learning something from him about Mary’s death, failed to elicit the
slightest recognition.
Such was the situation at Honolulu. In the meantime Commodore Heathcote
and the other air commanders had received instructions from Washington
to disband, as quickly as possible, all the emergency aerodromes that
had been established for the purpose of coping with the pirate. They
were told to superintend the work of transporting all the squadrons and
their equipment back to their permanent bases.
This work was already under way. The commercial air transportation
lines resumed their normal schedules. The operating companies had lost
no time, after the official notice of the pirate’s destruction had been
announced, in getting back to their regular service. The experience
gained since the advent of the pirate and during his brief reign of
terror, were the subject of many governmental conferences. From all
quarters came the insistent demand for adequate permanent policing of
the distant airways of the world with the most up-to-date and effective
aircraft units, so that any possible menace of similar nature could in
the future be coped with at the very outset, thereby eliminating any
possibility of disruption to the regular aerial transit lines that had
become necessary arteries in the world’s commerce.
To satisfy this demand two picked squadrons that had been dispatched
to the Pacific for duty against the pirate were ordered to remain in
Honolulu temporarily until such time as their permanent location for
police duty should have been finally decided.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The time passed slowly as the situation over the Pacific Ocean
gradually assumed a normal condition. Day after day lapsed into
infinity with Arthur Ingleton waiting aimlessly and almost hopelessly,
wondering what to do. In this manner two weeks passed by. Then one
morning he received a call at his hotel over the telephone from the
hospital where his wife was lying, asking him to come there as quickly
as possible. On arrival there he was met by the superintendent who said:
“I’m very sorry to tell you Mr. Ingleton that your wife has suffered
a relapse, and we thought it best to call you. I will summon Dr.
Harrington who is attending her.”
A few moments later Dr. Harrington came into the superintendent’s room.
“There is no use in discussing the situation, Mr. Ingleton,” he said,
“Your wife has taken a decided turn for the worse. She is in a kind
of stupor. I have been thinking that if we could awaken her interest
we might bring about a change and put her on the road to recovery.
There is no doubt that your presence will revive her interest, but if
she should find out about your daughter’s death the result would be
disastrous. What do you think?”
The expression of deep concern and apprehension that crept over
Ingleton’s face clearly showed his thoughts. After a few moments’
reflection he said:
“I think it may be just as well if I go and see her. I may be able to
awaken her interest sufficiently to help in improving her condition.
If she asks me about Mary, I’ll try to evade her question for the time
being.”
Ingleton followed Dr. Harrington through the hospital until they came
to a room where his wife was lying. As they entered, the nurse who
was sitting alongside the bed, got up and made way for them. Ingleton
walked over to the head of the bed and, bending over, kissed his wife
and gently clasped her hand. The patient’s eyes opened languidly and
glanced up wearily. Then as she recognized her husband, they lit with a
gleam of pleasurable excitement.
“Oh! Arthur,” she said feebly, “I’m so glad you came. I have waited
such a long time for you, dear.”
An expression of contentment settled upon her worn face, and Dr.
Harrington who stood by watching closely, nodded approvingly.
“I came here as quickly as I could, dear,” replied Ingleton. “Now I
want to see you get well again soon.”
“Oh! I will,” declared his wife, and then as in an after-thought, she
asked, “Have you got Mary for me?”
For a moment Ingleton paused, thinking rapidly for a reply. Before he
could frame one his wife exclaimed:
“Nothing has happened to her, Arthur?”
The unexpectedness of this question coming in the midst of his hurried
thoughts left Ingleton still further perplexed and at a loss for an
answer with which to allay his wife’s anxiety. With quick intuition she
grasped the situation and cried out:
“Oh! Arthur, for God’s sake, tell me! I know something terrible has
happened, and you don’t want to tell me. I know it. What is it?”
“There, there, dear,” pleaded Ingleton, “Don’t excite yourself. We want
you to get well again. Everything will be alright.”
“Oh! you’re hiding it from me,” sobbed his wife, “you won’t tell me. I
know it’s something terrible. I know it! I know it!!”
Turning over in bed and burying her face in the pillows, she burst
into a fit of hysterical tears, and her weakened frame shook with the
violence of her sobs. Her husband looked on in helpless fear. Dr.
Harrington, however, quickly saw the seriousness of the situation and,
summoning the nurse, administered a drug in an effort to quiet the
paroxysm of his patient. He motioned Ingleton to be seated and not to
say anything further.
While this pathetic scene was being enacted in the hospital, another
more amazing one was taking place over the Pacific Ocean. The wireless
operator on duty at Pearl Harbor, listening with indifferent patience,
had been electrified into sudden action by an S. O. S. call. Quickly
answering it, he received a reply from the transpacific airship
Montgolfier, whose operator sent the following message:
“Montgolfier, 300 miles east of Honolulu attacked by strange airplane.
We are disabled and settling to the surface of the ocean rapidly. Rush
assistance immediately. Won’t be able to send much longer.”
Before the Honolulu operator could acknowledge the message, another
call came in on the same wavelength. There was something familiar about
the sending, and he listened carefully. Presently the second station
began to send a message. Picking up a pencil the Pearl Harbor operator
wrote down:
“Please give my compliments to Commodore Heathcote. Tell him he has
a lot to learn about the art of aviation. I hope that Commander
Fitzgerald enjoyed his little scrap with us. Miss Ingleton sends her
best wishes.”
That was all. Reading it over after it was completed, the operator
rubbed his head in amazement and then exclaimed:
“Well I’ll be damned.”
For a few minutes he sent out a series of queries to the sender of
the message, but got no further response. He also tried to get in
touch with the Montgolfier again, but his efforts in this respect also
failed. Then he telephoned to Commodore Heathcote and read the message
to him. The latter came over to the station, where he examined the
message carefully and questioned the operator about their receipt.
“Good God!” he exclaimed, “if they mean anything at all they mean
that the pirate is still on the job and couldn’t have been destroyed
by Fitzgerald. How on earth could he have possibly escaped? That’s
strange! The pirate certainly had a surprise up his sleeve for us
alright. I wonder what his secret is? We’re in a worse fix now than
ever.”
Without wasting any further time on conjecture, Heathcote rushed out
to the hangars and ordered a squadron of the largest type of bombing
machines to fly out three hundred miles east and search for traces
of the Montgolfier, and if possible pick up her survivors. Having
completed this task and witnessed the departure of the rescuing craft,
he went over to the post hospital. He knew the astonishing news would
materially affect Fitzgerald, and the fact that Miss Ingleton was safe
might prove to be the rallying point for his recovery.
Before he left for the hospital, however, Heathcote also dispatched
an officer over to Ingleton’s hotel with copies of the messages to
show to the former secretary of the navy. The clerk of the hotel told
the officer that Mr. Ingleton was at the general hospital, and the
latter went there. He was ushered into the waiting room. After he had
explained the urgency of his message, a nurse went to summon Ingleton
from the bedside of his wife. In a few seconds she returned with the
former secretary.
“We have just received word that your daughter is alive and well, Sir,”
said the officer handing copies of the message to him.
Ingleton read them over carefully and slowly, then with a sigh of deep
regret he exclaimed:
“Good Heavens! why didn’t I wait.”
He hurried back to his wife’s room and pushed the messages into Dr.
Harrington’s hands, saying:
“Here’s good news for your patient, doctor.”
Almost mechanically Dr. Harrington took the messages and glanced over
them. Then his eyes wandered slowly over to the recumbent figure in
the bed now strangely silent, and then, with the light of compassion
softening them, they turned upon Ingleton as the doctor, with a catch
in his voice, said:
“I’m sorry, dreadfully sorry, Ingleton, but these messages came too
late.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A flight of an hour and a half over the island-strewn waters of Hawaii
brought the rescuing airplanes to the scene of the latest aerial
outrage. The machines of the squadron were spread out in open formation
and had been flying at an altitude of ten thousand feet until they
arrived at a point approximately three hundred miles from Honolulu, in
the vicinity of the position given in the S. O. S. messages. Now they
spiralled down to a thousand feet and began a careful search of the
waters for signs of the Montgolfier or her survivors. The skies were
absolutely void of other craft.
After cruising about for a few moments, a number of small objects were
discerned on the water, and the commander of the squadron ordered
his machines to alight near them. The order was quickly obeyed, and
shortly afterwards the plane taxied up alongside what proved to be the
lifeboats of the airship Montgolfier. There was no sign of the airship
itself. Undoubtedly it had sunk.
After a quick survey of the situation the commander of the squadron
decided there was ample room in the bomb chambers of the huge
airplanes to carry all the passengers and crew of the Montgolfier back
to Honolulu, and the task of transferring the survivors from the boats
to the airplanes was quickly accomplished.
This done, the machines started back on the flight to Honolulu, which
was accomplished in a little less than two hours. On arrival there,
special care was taken of the women passengers who were suffering quite
a little from the trying experience, followed by the long exposure in
the small open boats and the flight back to the Hawaiian capital. While
this was being done the captain and officers of the Montgolfier were
escorted to the office of Commodore Heathcote, where the captain told
the story of the loss of his airship.
It was a story similar in detail to the previous attacks made by
the pirate. It left no doubt that the airplane which attacked the
Montgolfier was the same that had destroyed the Langley and Wilbur
Wright, and had supposedly been sunk during the battle with the
squadron of Commander Fitzgerald. Whatever doubt might have existed
about the identity of the perpetrator of the latest piratical attack
was quickly dispelled by the latter part of the captain’s narrative.
“While we were transferring our passengers to the lifeboats,” he
continued, “the attacking airplane, which had landed on the surface of
the ocean, taxied over to us. As soon as it came alongside, a door in
the cabin body opened, and a tall, dark man appeared in the doorway and
began to talk to me. He wore very heavy flying clothes, but no helmet.
He was a rather good looking chap, and although his flying clothes made
him look somewhat bulky, I got the impression that he was slim and
lithe and undoubtedly very strongly built. His features were dark, and
his skin had an olive tan. His eyes were coal black, and so was his
hair. I caught one view of him side face, and he had rather an aquiline
nose. While his features were very sharp, there was nothing cruel about
their aspect. He seemed to be of a studious rather than active nature,
although he was the boss of the pirate machine.
“He asked me several questions about the Montgolfier, what kind of a
cargo we carried, and then some general questions about the news in the
United States. After a short conversation along these lines he said to
me:
“‘You will be alright, Captain, Honolulu received your S. O. S.
message, and they will be sending some rescue craft out here to you
pretty soon. When you get back there, if they ask you about me, you can
tell them that I am the same fellow that sank the Wilbur Wright and
the Langley. I don’t want to leave them in doubt about that. You know,
Captain, I’ve just played quite a joke on them. They sent a squadron of
airplanes out a few weeks ago to fight me. I played around with them
for a little while and had a lot of fun. I carried it further than I
had expected to though, and one of them got a hit on our machine, but
it did not do much damage.
“‘I decided not to play any further, easily made my getaway. The damned
fools thought they had sunk me. Now I am back on the job, and they
will never be able to stop me from carrying out my plans and desires.
I am the king of the Pacific airways and I intend to be monarch of the
entire aerial world before I’m through. I am sorry I was compelled to
shoot down three of their machines, but that could not be helped. I am
master of the situation and intend to dictate my own terms before I
retire. They cannot successfully fight me and they might as well know
that fact now as later.’
“That was about the gist of his conversation. He was anxious that I
should get his meaning clearly. In fact, he asked me whether I had any
doubt what he wanted me to tell you. When I told him that I understood
him thoroughly, he started to go into the cabin, but hesitated a moment
and then said to me:
“‘By the way, Captain, they may ask you about my lady passenger when
you get to Honolulu. Her name is Miss Mary Ingleton, and she is a very
old friend of mine, that’s why I asked her to accompany me on my little
pleasure flights. You can tell them that she is very well, indeed, and
is enjoying herself immensely.’
“That was all he said. I started to ask him some questions but he went
inside his cabin abruptly. A few minutes later his ship taxied away
and waited until we had transferred all our passengers and crew. As
soon as we were through, he signalled to us to stand off away from the
Montgolfier. There was nothing for us to do but to obey this command.
Immediately afterwards his machine moved over alongside the disabled
airship, and some of the crew went aboard. It was not long before
they began to pass out some parts of the cargo. As soon as they had
satisfied themselves they put off about a hundred yards and opened fire
on the Montgolfier, which quickly sank. Without any further ceremony
the airplane then took off and quickly disappeared at terrific speed.”
“Did you see Miss Ingleton at all while the pirate was talking to you?”
asked Heathcote.
“No,” replied the captain.
“Did he say whether he had her aboard or not?”
“No. He did not mention her name except in the manner I have told you,”
said the captain.
“Did you see any other members of the crew?” required Heathcote.
“No,” came the reply, “that’s all I saw, but it was more than enough
for me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
From the unfathomed depths where lies the mythical locker of Davey
Jones, the pirate came back to renew his depreciations over the clear
expanse of the Pacific Ocean. His return was more than astonishing, it
was cataclysmic. It took the world completely by surprise and left it
aghast, helpless, but still infuriated.
What manner of man was this who could so easily flout the power of
organized government and laugh at its efforts against him? What hidden
powers did he possess that made him invincible in the struggle with a
whole world risen in anger against him?
There was no doubt about the pirate possessing some remarkable secret.
The unprecedented incidents in his meteoric career of crime amply
proved this. How could he be dealt with and brought within the power
of the law? That was the problem that had to be solved. It was evident
that the steps had already been taken against him had proven woefully
inadequate.
The new situation resulted in numerous conferences among the various
leading government officers. It was complicated by the fact that most
of the squadrons which had been established on the various Pacific
islands to aid in hunting down the pirate had been disbanded and
returned to their bases in the United States after Fitzgerald had
reported the supposed death of the pirate. Now there were but two
squadrons left in the Pacific waters that were at all adequate to
cope with the murderer, and these lacked sufficient speed to make any
impression against him.
It was about this time, however, when the problem appeared to be
impossible of solution that something occurred which gave the
government officers a new line to follow in their action against the
pirate. It came as the result of part of the program adopted at the
conference held in Washington immediately after the pirate had made his
first appearance so memorable by destroying the airship Langley. At
this conference George Cowl, Secretary of the Department of Air, had
suggested that careful investigation should be made to discover whether
any aircraft manufacturer had received orders to build the machine and
also if possible to discover the mode of transportation to the Pacific.
This, he thought, might help in the task of locating the pirate’s base.
The proposal had been adopted, and operatives were assigned to running
down every available clue, under the command of Captain Charles J.
Somers, chief of the Secret Service.
Now after many months of intensive work, the first fruits of the
investigation became apparent, and Captain Somers was able to render
a preliminary report. His men had been divided into two sections, the
first detailed to make a thorough canvass of the aircraft manufacturing
companies, and the other to trace the movements of the pirate in the
Pacific prior to the establishment of his base.
The canvass of the aircraft companies had disclosed the fact that about
eighteen months previous to the advent of the pirate over the Pacific
Ocean, a series of orders had been placed with different manufacturers
for airplane parts of special design. The specifications of each part
were included with the order, and in each case instructions were given
to make delivery to a warehouse in San Francisco upon completion. By
careful reconstruction, based upon these reports, it was found that the
parts fitted together into a flying boat that corresponded in a general
way to the descriptions given by those officers who had encountered the
pirate.
There was this important point, however, the theoretical machine
constructed from the details thus gathered had several important parts
missing. Also the closest inquiry failed to produce any knowledge or
information regarding the engine. At that point the investigation
came to an abrupt halt. An examination of the various parts and the
specifications merely showed the pirate had constructed a cabin
airplane of sheet tungsten-steel with retractible wings. The wings were
so arranged that they folded closely up to the side of the fuselage, in
collapsible style, when the machine was not in flight. A locking device
kept them rigid in flight.
Moreover, the most peculiar thing about the theoretical machine was the
fact that there was no apparent provision made for the emplacement of
the engine or engines which the pirate used to give his actual machine
its prodigious speed. In the trailing edge of the wings, however, there
were two fairly large circular holes that could be used as housings for
the propeller shafts.
The second detail of operatives had picked up the trail in San
Francisco from the address to which the airplane parts had been
delivered. Weeks of detailed investigation had followed. Then by
carefully dovetailing together the facts obtained, the secret service
men were enabled to construct the story of the pirate’s movements
immediately preceding his advent over the Pacific airways. In outline
the story was as follows:
In April, 1952, four men arrived at the warehouse in San Francisco
and took charge of the large cases that had been delivered there. A
tall, slim, dark man, was apparently the leader of the party, for it
was he who gave all the instructions for delivering the cases which
were addressed to him under the name of Joseph W. Devant. As soon as
he had checked up the number of cases he had them re-labelled, then he
told the warehousemen to have them shipped as freight in his name to
Honolulu on the steamship Chosen Maru, which sailed the same week.
Carrying the investigation further, it was discovered that this man
Devant and his three companions were passengers on the Pacific mail
steamship Nippon which sailed for the East from San Francisco on the
last Saturday of April. They took with them as baggage several large
cases that were heavily insured. These cases were marked with complete
instructions regarding the manner in which they were to be handled,
and bore bigger labels upon which was inscribed in large letters:
“Scientific apparatus. Handle with care.”
Picked up from this point the story showed that during the voyage of
the Nippon Devant in casual conversation with the officers of the ship,
had declared that he was on a scientific expedition that was about to
engage in meteorological investigation in the various Pacific islands.
Upon arrival in Honolulu the cases from the two ships, the Chosen Maru
having arrived a few days previously, were stored away, and Devant went
around the port in search of a suitable schooner. A few days after his
arrival he bought the 500 ton schooner Hilo and signed up the Kanaka
crew that had been aboard her. The cases were then placed aboard from
the storage warehouse, and the schooner sailed away with Devant and
his white companions acting as navigators. They did not comply with
the port regulations before leaving, and there was no record of their
intended destination.
From this point all traces of the expedition vanished. It had already
been listed as a total loss. The schooner Hilo had not put into any
known port or island, nor had it been sighted by any other craft.
Such was the report of Captain Somers, which he delivered to Secretary
Cowl shortly after the pirate had made his dramatic return to the
Pacific airways. Cowl read it over very carefully several times and
asked Somers a number of questions in connection with it. Then after
further consideration he said:
“There is no doubt in my mind that Devant is the pirate. Did you get
any line on him personally?”
“No”, replied Somers, “The name Devant is undoubtedly an alias, but we
were unable to get any further information about him.”
“Well,” added Cowl, “your investigation is conclusive, to say the
least. The cases undoubtedly contained his airplane, while the other
cases then he took with him the Nippon probably contained the parts for
his engines and other apparatus he had designed or needed.”