“That’s rather a long stretch of flying, my boy. I thought we would
rest here, and go on in the morning.”
“Bob got a nap on the way, so he can relieve me, and the quicker we get
off, the better. I don’t want to hang around here if we do not have to.”
“I’m sure that I don’t,” his father admitted.
“It’s unanimous. Let’s hurry and get something that feels like no
shirt, and be on our way,” Bob urged. There was no objection to this,
so they paid their bill, Jim got a taxi to take him back to the drome,
while his father and Caldwell took another to expedite their shopping
tour.
In due time young Austin was unlocking the hangar, and he gave the
“Lark” a careful examination, then replenished the fuel supply, tried
out the engine, and finally rolled the plane down the runway. One
of the mechanics offered his assistance, which the boy declined for
he didn’t really need help and he didn’t want an outsider to play
nursemaid to his bus. Everything was in apple pie order when a taxi
drove up with Mr. Austin and Bob, and Jim noticed a third man, who was
in the uniform of an officer of the Marines.
“We got a dozen sets of cob-webs, Old Timer,” Bob called.
“I’ll change into mine right away.” The two were coming toward him, and
Mr. Austin handed a small package to his son.
“I have the extra suits in another bundle to put with the luggage. Jim,
we met Lieutenant Morrow of the Marines. He is in a very unfortunate
predicament, my son, and wants us to give him a lift across to Havana
so he can join his company. He has been on leave, but he missed
the N. Y. R. B. A. air line, and he cannot get a boat. It is very
important that he join his company tonight,” Mr. Austin explained as he
introduced them.
“Didn’t know there were any Marines in Havana,” Jim remarked as he
greeted the officer.
“There aren’t, but I can get a lift from there without any trouble,”
Lieutenant Morrow explained. “You see, I got five-day’s leave because
my wife was sick. She’s been in a bad way and I stayed with her until
the last minute. I wanted to be with her every minute that I could.
Then the train I took to get here was delayed,” Morrow said. His face
wore an anxious expression, and his eyes looked as if he had lost a
week’s sleep, but Jim hesitated.
“He asked us if we were flying to Cuba and told us the trouble he’s in.
It is serious, you know Jim, if he doesn’t join his company when he’s
supposed to. I told him that you have been doing the piloting and I do
not know how much weight we are carrying,” Bob explained. Jim could
see that both his Buddy and his father were anxious to accommodate the
stranded Marine and he frowned.
“Mighty sorry, old man, not to be able to help you out. I’d do it in a
minute, but our plane is not very big and I’ve just tanked up to the
last ounce we’ll carry,” he said with emphasis. Bob looked at him, but
Jim busied himself about the machine.
“Can’t you dump out the extra stuff?” Morrow urged. He had fully
expected to be taken and he showed his resentment. “I’m an officer of
our Federal Government and you are in duty bound to assist me. I can
order you to do so--”
“How do you get that way, Old Man?” Jim demanded, whirling on him
quickly. “Am I responsible because you over-stay your leave? Florida
has any number of air planes and you’ll have no trouble getting one to
take you across if you need to go. Get in, Bob and Dad.” He snapped out
the last words so sharply, that his two companions complied without
question, and it wasn’t until they were in their seats that it occurred
to them that they had treated a United States officer rather sharply,
but the “Lark” was already thundering into the sky. She climbed to ten
thousand feet, then leveled off, and her nose was turned south.
“Come on, old man, change seats with me,” Bob insisted.
“All right,” Jim agreed, then he spoke into the tube. “O.K. back there,
Dad?”
“Yes I am, my son, but I do not understand why you chose to be so
uncivil to that officer.”
“I wasn’t until he began to shave-tail me, and besides, if we dropped
down on one of the islands tonight and found you nicely strangled back
there, your wife would never let us take you out again. We’re not
taking any chances,” he answered.
“Have you any reason to believe the man was misrepresenting himself?”
“A frail one. While we were at lunch I heard a pretty girl almost cry
because her brother, who is a Marine, hadn’t been able to get leave
in weeks, and another thing, I bet a gold tooth that the boat service
from Miami to Cuba is better than the train service from New York to
Chicago,” he answered. “I’m going to change my togs.”
“You surely have a mind in the making, oh my step-brother. I was so
busy feeling sorry for the poor goop that I didn’t use my think
machine at all,” Bob remarked ruefully.
“Well, use it now, old fellow. In a few minutes Neptune will be under
us and he’s a jealous God. Fly high, wide and handsome,” Jim chuckled.
Bob turned his entire attention to flying, while Jim managed to
maneuver out of his heavy clothes and get into the lighter garments. It
was pretty close quarters, but it was accomplished at last, and Austin
settled himself in his seat, took a look at the parachute, adjusted
that and the safety strap, then he had time to observe the vast expanse
of ocean rolling in endless white-tipped billows beneath them. The plane
was singing along smoothly, there were only a few clouds in the blue
dome above, but the wind was strong. Austin scrutinized the chart, did
some calculating, and finally made a decision.
“I say, Buddy,” he spoke into the tube and Bob took the other end.
“What say?”
“If the esteemed Lieutenant Morrow was on mischief bent he will manage
somehow to get word ahead of our coming. By the way, how did you
happen to run into him?”
“We were just coming out of the store and he spoke to us. Said he could
tell that we were traveling by plane because we had on the helmets, and
he wanted to know if we could carry an extra passenger. He told us his
tale of woe and finished up by saying that he was desperate to get back
to his company because the Marines are busy lads right now, besides it
would go hard with him if he didn’t put in an appearance on schedule,”
Bob explained.
“I see. Well, you know Dad hopes to forestall any crookedness that may
be afoot when he lands in Cuzco. It’s a big deal they are putting over,
the parents are involved heavily financially, and if a few of those
lads who are in a hurry to get things cleaned up found out that Dad
is flying to the scene of the massacre-to-be they might try to clip
our wings; do something to keep him away until it’s too late,” Jim
announced.
“Yes, that’s clear, but who the heck knew we started?”
“Search me, but if Morrow was trying to put one over on us between
Miami and Cuba, he’ll let his boss know that we didn’t fall so well
for his sob stuff. They’ll work fast, do something else.”
“Do you believe Morrow was not on the level really?”
“I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but it’s just as well not
to give him a chance.”
“The more I think of him, the fishier he gets. Got a plan to upset his
apple cart in Havana?” Bob inquired.
“Yes.”
“Shoot. What is it?”
“We won’t land there.”
“Go right on to Cuzco?”
“Not so foolish as that. Dad wouldn’t stand for it. We’ll give our
island of Cuba so much space that the inhabitants won’t even see a
speck of us, and we’ll make our landing on Jamaica. There’s a port
called Montego and I’m sure the inhabitants will be delighted to see a
couple of little boys who are trying to get along in the world.” Bob
glanced at the map, did some mental figuring, and nodded his approval.
“We may as well keep our rear seat from knowing what our front seats
are doing,” he grinned.
“You get brighter by the minute, old man.”
“It’s the company I keep. I’d be much better if you weren’t such a poor
skate,” Bob retorted.
“Grab your parachute, man, you are going to be dropped into yon briny.”
“Unhand me. I say, let’s eat in the air. We’ll announce that later to
Dad. Gosh, he’ll think we’re bum pilots not being able to see Cuba,”
Bob chuckled.
“Perhaps he’ll take a nap, and I’ll tell him you were piloting,” Jim
announced cheerfully. “Anyway, he’ll be glad we are nearer.”
“Sure. It’s over five hundred miles by a straight line, and we may hit
a fog, or a bad wind. Those islands down there are the Keys. See how
high you have to get to be out of sight of them.” Bob zoomed a thousand
feet higher and the tiny dots were lost from their sight.
“That means that an inhabitant, if he has no glasses, can’t see us,”
Jim remarked.
“Yes, but Cuba is three or four hundred miles long and a hundred wide.
If we fly straight across it that will take at least twenty minutes,
at top speed. Lucky there are no indicators in the passenger seat. You
have to remember that Dad’s a pilot too,” Bob reminded his buddy.
“I don’t believe he’d object if he knew. I’ll tell him.” Jim took up
the tube and spoke to his father. “I say Dad, we can make Montego in
Jamaica easily before dark. Suppose we do that, then tomorrow we won’t
have such a long hop.”
“Hump. I should be glad to cover the additional miles if you are sure
that it isn’t going to be too much for you boys and the “Lark”. We do
not want to be fool-hardy,” he answered.
“It’ll be easy, and the weather is great. We may as well take advantage
of it as long as we can,” Jim explained.
“If you are all right when we fly over Cuba, why, go on by all means.”
“Good. We’ll make a raid on Mom’s baskets for supper.”
“I’m glad he knows,” said Bob, and Jim nodded his agreement.
After that, Austin spent some time observing the ocean rolling by under
them, then he got one of his books from under the seat and prepared
to do some studying, but he kept the tube in his hand so that his
step-brother might call on him without delay. In a few minutes he was
so absorbed in what he was learning that he completely forgot he was
not at his desk at home or at the laboratory at Don Haurea’s. Some time
later Bob nudged him, and Jim glanced up.
“Cuba?”
“Must be. I’ve seen a couple of planes floating around. There’s a
big fellow over there,” Bob remarked and Jim looked in the direction
indicated. The long island racing toward them looked remarkably
beautiful, and the boy could see numerous boats of all sizes on the
water, besides quite a few planes that seemed to be soaring about
lazily in the sky as if their owners were merely having a good time.
“Better go higher,” Jim suggested. Bob turned the “Lark’s” nose into
the air, zoomed up swiftly, and raced forward. She was not traveling at
the extra speed, so that would not call special attention to her, but
while they were still some distance from the island, they saw one plane
detach itself from the rest, and start out as if it intended to meet
them. It soared swiftly toward them, and Jim watched it thoughtfully,
while Bob tried to figure out whether it was merely a friendly advance
or someone who was interested in looking them over. He decided not to
give the fellow a chance, so he zoomed swiftly up, swerved his course
slightly, and sped forward well out of the observer’s range of vision.
By that time they were nearing Havana, could see the activity of the
lovely city, and again Bob climbed, then racing into a cloud bank he
put on full speed. Jim watched the other plane, which circled wide
before it followed toward the land.
“That guy was looking for us, Buddy, but he doesn’t know if it’s us, or
isn’t us,” Jim remarked grimly.
“Did I give him the slip?”
“I think so. Can we keep in these clouds?”
“They looked deep when I was watching them,” Bob replied grimly.
IX
THE STOWAWAY
The “Lark” soared so high and swiftly over Cuba that it would have
taken a racer to have caught even a second glimpse of her, and although
it made the trip less simple both boys were glad that the thick
atmosphere was not dispelled south of the island. Caldwell grimly made
his calculations for their course and Austin checked up on them.
“Methinks this flight is not going to be all baby talk, Buddy,” Jim
announced.
“Bet my new shirt against a set of red flannels that we hit some hot
spots that won’t be all Peruvian weather,” Bob added.
“Wish we didn’t have to stop this side of Belize, but I reckon we
better. We’re not doing a Lindbergh.” Just then the light flashed and
Jim took up the speaking tube. “Are you there!”
“Certainly. I observe we are leaving Havana in our rear.”
“That’s good, we reared right over it and lost the reception committee,
if one was out looking for us.”
“It’s pretty foggy, my boy.”
“We don’t need to worry about that because we don’t have to come down.
We’ll probably hit some breaks in it before sunset. How do you like
the trip? I forgot to suggest that you bring anything to read,” Jim
laughed, and his father chuckled.
“Mother was more thoughtful. She put in a couple of books--mystery
stories, and I have read half of one of them,” Mr. Austin answered.
“Great stuff. Maybe we can get some ideas. Got everything you need so
that you can eat when the spirit moves?”
“Plenty.”
“Because if you haven’t, there’s a trolley line from the two cock-pits.
Just slide up the round disk and you’ll find an opening big enough to
send a club sandwich through.”
“I investigated the disk some hours ago, and I judge it opens behind
the passenger seat in front.”
“It does. I’ll leave the door open so you need not be afraid when it
gets dark. Got your sky-light up?”
“No. I find it very comfortable with it down. So long.”
“Everything O.K.?” Bob inquired.
“Top hole. He didn’t say anything about noticing the plane. He’s been
reading a mystery story your mother provided.”
“That’s just like Mom,” Bob laughed. Assured that all was well, Jim
went back to his studies, and an hour later he looked up at his
step-brother, whose expression was a bit tense.
“Let’s swap places, old fellow,” Jim proposed.
“Don’t care if I do.” They made the change, and as soon as they were in
their places, the younger boy began to investigate the hamper. “Shall I
give you a hand out?”
“Sure thing.” The fog was considerably more thick than when the plane
had dived into it, and as far as Austin could see, there wasn’t a break
in any direction. He switched on the lights by the control board, but
the tiny cabin was bright enough he decided.
“Can you spare a knee?”
“One.” Jim moved his leg and Bob spread a napkin, balanced a wooden
plate on it, and proceeded to fill it with bread, butter, pickles, cold
roast beef, and a bottle of milk. “Go easy,” Jim ordered, so the milk
was given a safer place on the floor. Although it was early by their
watches and also the clock in front of them, they gauged their actions
entirely on their stomachs, and attacked the food with keen appetites.
When they had eaten all they could, Bob repacked the hamper, then slid
his chair forward and prepared to take a nap.
“Better put a coat over you,” Jim suggested. He pulled out his own
jacket and threw it over his Flying Buddy.
“I say, Jim. Wonder if we hadn’t better stick by the plane all night?”
“You mean keep on watch?”
“Yes. We’d be in a dandy fix if we found it with the propeller gone in
the morning.”
“Let’s see what sort of place we can park it in,” Jim suggested. He had
been wondering uneasily about the town in which they expected to spend
the night, and he felt reasonably sure there would be no airdrome, or a
garage sufficiently large to admit the plane. On thinking it over, he
decided that the island was probably thinly settled, and in that case
there must be some sort of barn or open shed. After that, Bob settled
back comfortably, his mouth dropped open, and if the engine had not
been roaring so melodiously, the boy’s snores would have been audible.
“He sure can go to sleep without much trouble,” Jim grinned, but he
knew that Bob had been so excited the night before that he had slept
little, and he had been up two hours earlier than anyone on the K-A
that morning. The time passed quickly, and at last the young pilot
managed to get above the fog and see the great sun, which was almost
setting. He drove along the top of the ceiling for a while, then dived
through, and a few miles ahead he made out the dim edge of an island.
“That’s Jamaica. It must be,” he told himself. Then he picked up the
tube to speak to his father in the back. “How goes it?”
“Fine.”
“We’ll land down here.”
“All right. I shall certainly be glad to stretch my legs.”
“I say, are we in Peru?” Bob poked up his head.
“We passed that hours ago,” Jim laughed.
“Gee, I had a heck of a dream.”
“Don’t tell it before breakfast, it’s bad luck.”
Jim circled the “Lark” above the island and selected an open space back
of the town which he was sure was Montego. The Jamaica Island lay half
hidden in the midst, and the three air travelers sat tensely wondering
what the next few minutes would have in store for them. Swiftly the
plane glided down and at last lighted near a group of low buildings
that might belong to a small piece of farm land. None of them thought
it strange that it should be a boy who would come racing inquisitively,
for there isn’t a youngster on the face of the earth who could resist
the force which compels him to run to a descending machine.
“Hello, Bud,” Jim called experimentally.
“Hello,” the little fellow drawled, and the three were delighted that
the salutation was understood.
“May we leave our plane here, and get lodgings for the night?” was the
next query.
“Pop’s coming.” Sure enough, a tall weather-beaten man came leisurely
to greet them, and the boy shouted eagerly, “They want to stay the
night.”
“They kin set in the shed,” the man answered.
“Thank you. We’ll be glad to pay,” Mr. Austin explained.
“Doesn’t cost me anything,” the man shrugged indifferently.
“It is worth something to us.”
“Satisfy yourself. You can get something to eat in the house, but
we can’t sleep you. There’s grass in the shed.” With that cordial
reception, he strolled off, his son at his heels, and Jim taxied the
plane into the long open shed, which might have been built for cows,
but had apparently stood unused for months or years. The Flying Buddies
surveyed the place while Mr. Austin made his way to the house to
arrange for food. He found a woman with a sick child in her arms, so
instead of asking her to prepare a meal, he bought a few supplies which
he carried back to the Buddies.
“I didn’t get much,” he announced.
“We can fix a bunk with the grass,” Jim told him. “There’s plenty of
it and it’s clean. We thought we’d sleep down here by the plane, but
there’s a more comfortable--”
“Let’s stay together,” the man proposed. “How about gas?”
“We don’t have to have it but I may as well see if we can get some in
the town. I’ll take a walk down and find out. It isn’t more than a mile
and it’s still light enough so that I can find my way,” Jim told him.
“Very well. I take it that you think the “Lark” should not be left
without a guard.”
“Yes, we do, Dad.”
“I’ll stay with Bob. We can walk around a bit. If we feel like eating
there is plenty in the hamper if I didn’t get enough from the woman.
Have a snack with us before you go?”
“Guess not. I’ll trot along.”
Jim started across the sandy open space and soon came to a rough
winding road that led toward the town. Walking briskly he wished they
might stay over a day and get acquainted with that section of the
famous island, but perhaps they could do that on the return trip when
the business and its dangers were concluded. The boy had gone about
half the distance when he overtook a lumbering cart hauled by two young
steers, and this struck him as odd. In Canada he had seen ox teams
plodding along and had thought them mighty interesting, but the idea
of making beasts of burden out of cattle such as ran wild over the
vast plains of Texas was a strange sight. As he neared Montego, with
its narrow streets and low buildings, he noticed a few people glance
after him curiously. Here and there he passed groups of children,
ranging in color from fairest little tow-heads, to the blackest and
kinkiest. Further along he met an hilarious band dancing mischievously
around a hunch-back, who seemed even more dwarfed than his crippledness
warranted.
“It’s good luck to rub his back,” cried one of the tormentors.
“It will make our cow well,” put in another as he skipped about the
victim in an effort to touch the deformity.
“He keeps witches in his house.” Jim eyed the gang resentfully as
he drew closer and had made up his mind to interfere, but was saved
from participating in the brawl by a tall, military-looking man who
suddenly stepped into the midst of the children; brandishing a cane
swiftly to right and left.
“Begone, you vagabonds,” he shouted, and the youngsters scattered every
which way, leaving the crippled dwarf and his rescuer standing alone.
Then the man spoke sharply to the hunch-back, who promptly dodged out
of sight quite as quickly as if he too expected a blow from the heavy
stick. The big fellow looked none too prepossessing, so Austin turned
down a near-by lane, and in a few minutes he found himself in what
there was of the business section of Montego.
Jim searched about for a sign of a gas-station, but discovered none,
then he watched for a garage, either public or private, and at last
he came to a small one, where a negro was sleeping contentedly in a
backless chair tilted precariously against the wall. The boy glanced
into the tumbled building, but there was no sign of filling equipment,
and as he stepped by the attendant, the chap opened his eyes a narrow
slit.
“I want to buy some gas,” Jim told him.
“Yas--”
“Have you got any here?”
“Yas--”
“I’d like to buy some.”
“Ebbeyket--” the man drawled, and from the depths of somewhere a second
man appeared. He stood a moment eyeing Jim, but the man at the door had
resumed his nap.
“I want to buy some gas,” Jim explained.
“Yasss--”
“Right away.”
The chap yawned, then turned about, and without taking the trouble to
make any sort of sign, he shuffled off deeper into the building. Jim
followed and hoped the process of purchasing gas was not going to be
too complicated. The colored man led the way to the rear, and there, in
the dirt floor, Jim saw a deep hole into which one descended by rather
a steep incline. The leader of the expedition showed no disposition to
go any further.
“Is it down there?”
“Yes.” He sat down as if the effort was too much for him.
“How can I get it?” Jim wanted to know. He felt like shaking the
fellow, but stuffed his hands into his pockets instead.
“Get it?” Austin couldn’t tell whether it was an answer or another
question, but he decided to see if he were expected to serve himself,
so he started down the narrow incline and in a moment stood before a
tumbled door. Through the cave-like opening he saw an odd collection
of goods and junk, but in the middle was a familiar metal tank which
rested on a pair of saw horses. There was a faucet at one end, and the
boy looked around for some sort of container. The only things he could
see were some tall empty buckets.
“Haven’t you got a covered can?” he called, but the man who had been
his escort did not reply, so in exasperation, the boy proceeded to fill
one of the pails. He wondered how he would get the stuff to the “Lark,”
and sincerely hoped that if he had to carry it he wouldn’t pass any
careless smokers. It took the tiny stream quite a while to fill the
pail but finally, when Austin had as much as he wanted, he lugged it
up the incline, where he found the colored man curled comfortably on
a pile of burlap. He shook the fellow vigorously and finally had him
awake.
“Can I get this hauled up the road?” he demanded. The chap shrugged, so
the boy went to look for some sort of vehicle and was rewarded by the
sight of a team of steers sauntering past the building. “Hey, will you
haul some gas up the road for me?” The queer team stopped at the sound
of the voice, and the driver turned himself almost all the way around.
Jim repeated his question and the man shifted a cud from one side of
his mouth to the other.
“I’m through,” he remarked indifferently, and the team proceeded on its
way, while Jim looked for some other conveyance. He had to go up the
street to find one, and as he hurried along he saw the hunchback the
children had been tormenting, striding as fast as his short legs would
permit, beside the tall man who had scattered the gang. They were an
odd pair, and after Austin ran by, the man called quickly, “Looking for
someone?”
Jim turned, and the chap smiled cordially.