A PERILOUS FLIGHT
“That’s some fire,” remarked Joe to Tom Layton, the elephant man,
speaking over the top of the howdah in which the boy stood ready to
make his flight, not yet having arisen on his wings of steel.
“It does look that way,” was the reply.
Suddenly a wave of excitement seemed to sweep over the crowd. Word
was passed from one person to another until it reached the policeman
who had given the first information of the fire.
“What is it?” called Joe to the officer.
“The fire’s getting worse,” came the answer, “and there’s a report
that a number of people are trapped by the flames.”
Joe let out a whistle, and a sudden resolution came into his mind.
But the policeman was not through imparting information.
“That’s not the worst, either,” he said.
“Why not?” the elephant man wanted to know.
“Because a good part of the fire department is out of town on their
annual outing, and there’s not half enough men left to fight a big
blaze. They took some of their biggest ladders with them, and as the
Globe Hotel is the highest building in town it’s going to be a job to
get the people off the roof.”
“Is that where they are?” asked Joe.
“That’s what they say.”
By this time the excitement over the fire had grown to such an extent
that crowds were deserting the attraction of the circus parade to go
to see the conflagration. From his elevated position on the back of
the elephant Joe could see the smoke getting thicker, and he could
note the sharp tongues of flame darting through it.
“I’m going to see that fire!” cried Joe to the elephant man.
“Yes, we’ll be nearer to it pretty soon,” was Tom’s comment. “Though
whether they’ll let the parade through that street is a question.
Most likely they won’t.”
“I’m not going to wait for the parade to get there,” Joe made answer.
“It’s likely we’ll be held back, as you say. I’m going to fly down
there. I want to see it at close range.”
“All right. Do as you please. I guess we’ll abandon the parade
anyhow. Nobody seems to be taking much interest in it.”
This was true enough, for the crowds were now running down the main
thoroughfares in the direction of the burning hotel. The parade was
“playing to empty streets,” as it were.
Joe lowered the cloth sides of the little house on the elephant’s
back, and made ready to rise in his wings of steel. He threw over the
switch that controlled the electric current, and the motors hummed
and throbbed as the gear wheels and torsion rods transmitted the
power to the wings.
Up and down flapped the big wings of the _Bat_, and Joe slowly left
the elephant’s back. A few of the throng turned to watch him, and
there were the usual expressions of wonder, but all eyes were soon
turned toward the big fire, which, as Joe could see, was assuming
large proportions.
Up and up rose the young acrobat, up toward the low-lying clouds,
and then toward the other clouds of smoke he directed his flight.
He could see the still-moving circus procession below him, and the
crowds of people, and then he had a glimpse of the hotel--a better
view than had yet been afforded him.
“I can’t see any persons on the roof,” said Joe, as he turned on more
power. “Still there may be some. And with no ladders to get them
down--well, maybe they can use the fire escapes if the inside stairs
are burned away.”
It did not take the young aviator long, in his marvelous flying
machine, to reach the scene of the conflagration. He went down a
little lower, approaching the burning hotel on the side where there
was the least smoke. Though his wings made comparatively little
noise--certainly not enough to be heard by the crowd above the racket
caused by the fire and the means being used to subdue it--Joe saw
hundreds in the throng looking up at him. And, for a time, attention
was divided between him and the blazing hotel.
It was a hard matter for Joe to find a clear place on which to make
a landing, but he managed it and came to rest where he could get a
good view. People at once crowded up around him, for they had seen on
the circus bills a representation of Joe flying in the _Bat_ and they
wanted a closer view.
Suddenly a cry came.
“Look! Look! There they are!”
Hundreds of hands pointed toward the roof of the hotel.
And there, as the smoke was rolled back by a gust of wind, Joe saw a
number of men and one woman huddled together on the flat roof of the
hotel. And in that instant they held out their hands in mute appeal
to the crowds below them.
“Can’t they save them?” asked Joe.
“They can’t seem to,” half a dozen voices answered him.
“Why not?” demanded the young acrobat, as he looked at the firemen
dragging up more lengths of hose.
“No ladders long enough.”
“They took the longest ladders over to Tarnytown to the contests
there,” some one said.
“There isn’t a ladder made long enough to reach to the roof of that
hotel,” declared one man. “They could use scaling ladders, or a rope
maybe, but the trouble is that the fire is about the middle of the
hotel, and they can’t get up past the windows--they’re spouting fire
on all four sides.”
This was true enough. The fire had started on the eighth story of
the Globe Hotel, and had quickly spread out fan-wise on that and the
floor above and below. The hotel was of what is called “slow-burning”
construction, and was not absolutely fire-proof.
“Aren’t there any fire escapes?” asked Joe.
“Yes, there are some,” a man in the crowd replied, “but they didn’t
build one that can be reached from the roof. The nearest one is some
distance down, and it would be a risky jump from the roof to get to
it.”
“And the inside of the hotel is a roaring furnace where they’d have
to pass if they tried the inside stairs,” another said. “They’re
doomed!”
Once more the smoke rolled back and hid from view the unfortunates on
the roof. How they got there no one could say, but probably when the
fire was discovered they had, in their fright, rushed up instead of
down, as had most of the hotel inmates. And again, it may have been
that they tried to descend, but found their way cut off by burning
stairways. At any rate they were on the roof, frantically appealing
to those below to save them.
“Why don’t the firemen do something?” demanded a hysterical woman
near Joe. “Surely they can save them!”
“How?” asked a man gloomily. “If they had wings like these here,” and
he indicated the _Bat_, “they might fly down. But that’s the only
way. No ladder can reach them.”
“Can’t they throw them up a rope?” persisted the woman. “They might
fasten that somewhere on the roof, and slide down. I’ve heard of
people saving themselves at fires by coming down ropes.”
“It could be done if we could get a rope up to them,” a man admitted.
“But who could toss a line up there?” and he pointed to the high
roof. “Not the best sailor living could do it.”
“But shoot a rope up in some way--as they shoot a line to sinking
vessels at sea!” a new voice cried.
“That needs a cannon, and there’s no time to get one,” was the
despondent comment. “It takes special apparatus to do that. There
isn’t any in the city. A man with a bow and arrow might get a light
line up, so they could haul up a heavier one.”
“Get a bow and arrow!” arose a general cry. But no one, in the
excitement of the moment, knew where to go for them.
It was then that Joe Strong stepped into the breach.
“I’ll carry a rope up there if you get me one,” he said.
“How?” some one near him asked.
“With my wings of steel. I can fly a good deal higher than that roof.”
For a moment no one spoke, but as the crowd looked at Joe and his
strange machine it was evident that the problem was solved. At least
an attempt could be made to save the unfortunates.
“Get me a rope!” cried Joe. “I’ll carry it up!”
“The firemen have ropes,” came the information.
A dozen in the crowd rushed for the nearest hook and ladder truck. On
that were carried ropes, life-nets and other special appliances for
use in saving lives. But up to now there had been no chance to bring
them into play.
A long, light, but strong rope was brought to Joe, where he stood
ready to make his perilous flight in the _Bat_. For it would be
perilous. He might land on the roof just as it collapsed. That this
would happen soon could not be doubted, for the fire was still
burning fiercely in spite of the tons of water poured into the heart
of it. And then, too, there was always danger in flying--something
might break and let the machine fall. But the lad did not count that
chance much.
“Stand ready to pay out the rope as I go up,” he directed those who
had brought the cable to him. “Don’t let it get tangled, or it will
pull away from me--maybe pull me down. And when I have my end up
there be ready to fasten this end to something so they can come down
the rope. Make it good and tight.”
“Yes! Yes! We’ll do that!” was the eager response. “Go on up with the
rope!”
Again the smoke cloud parted and another view could be had of the
imperilled men.
“Where’s the woman?” some one cried.
“She’s burned!” a man murmured hoarsely.
“They’ll all be burned soon,” another added.
But Joe Strong was doing his best to save them. He attached the rope
to his machine, and again cautioning the men in charge of it to see
that it paid out well, he turned on the power in the _Bat_.
In a moment he began rising, but he could no longer see those on the
roof, for the smoke had rolled in again.
Up and up went the lad, the rope trailing out behind him. He could
hear cries of wonder from the crowd now, for he was in plain sight
and what he was about to do was evident to all.
“He’s going to save them!” was shouted on all sides. “That circus
flying machine boy is going to save them!”
In his heart Joe hoped he could.