The summer holidays had come at last, and, saying good-bye to hot,
dirty, old London, Sixer Billy Kemp had gone off to the Isle of Wight
with his father and mother and big brother. He was sorry to leave the
Pack, of course. But before he went he promised his Cubmaster that
during the holidays he would not let himself forget for one moment that
he was a Cub. He would always _do his best_ at whatever he was doing; he
would find ways of doing good turns for other people, and he would not
give in to himself, and be selfish with his boats and his spade and
water-wings; but would let the children he played with on the shore use
them.
It was the first holiday he had had since joining the Pack; and he found
that one enjoys oneself much more when one has these cubby ideas. All
the little boys and girls he played with thought no end of him, because,
for one thing, he was so kind, and for another, he never seemed afraid
of anything. You see, he had only to say: "A Cub does not give in to
himself," and it became almost easy to do the hard thing. For instance,
when the sea was very rough and the waves knocked you down, it was very
frightening to go in, and most of the children gave up bathing that day.
But Billy faced the waves, and his big brother Jim was proud of him.
Then, on very cold days Billy went in, as usual. And just because he
never gave in to himself, he managed to learn to swim and float, those
holidays. When one of the men dared him to jump off the diving-board,
right out in the deep water, he set his teeth and did it. And, as to
walking on the stones with bare feet--you would have thought he liked
it! He even used to carry his very small friends across, because the
stones hurt their feet.
This story is about a wonderful adventure which befell Billy through his
habit of doing things that other boys were afraid of.
Billy's brother, Jim, a boy of seventeen, was mad on flying. He hoped
some day to be an airman. His great hobby was making kites, and he spent
all those holidays making the most wonderful great kite any one had ever
seen. It was made of dark brown canvas and bamboo rods. It was eighteen
feet long, and he had named it the _Eagle_.
When, at last, it was ready, Jim set out with Billy and a dozen of his
friends, to let her up for her first flight. Jim carried the precious
roll of brown stuff. Billy shouldered the supple spars that fitted into
pockets, and stretched the canvas taut. Another boy carried the great
coil of strong cord, and everyone talked at the same time of what the
_Eagle_ would do on her first flight. Going along the rough, stony path
that led from the village of Sea View towards Ryde, they were soon at a
big, grassy stretch of low-lying land near the sea. A stiff gale was
blowing from the southeast--it was a perfect day.
Spreading out the _Eagle_ on the grass, Jim fitted in the spars,
fastened the big hooks to eyelets, and made fast the cord. At last all
was ready.
"She'll take some holding!" he said, as he lifted the kite up, and felt
the quiver and flutter of the great wings, as the wind touched them. So
the boys formed up in a long line, and the rope was passed along from
one to the other. Then Jim lifted the _Eagle_, and held her up as high
as he could. For a moment she trembled, and then, a puff of wind
catching her, she leapt up, out of his hold, and began to rise in swift
swoops.
"Pay out the rope," shouted Jim.
The boys let it run through their hands and Jim took his place at the
end of the line.
"I say, isn't she ripping?" he cried. "I wonder what she's pulling?
She'd lift a good weight, I should say." Suddenly an idea struck him. "I
believe she'd take a passenger!" he said. "How glorious it would be to
go soaring up with her! But I should be too heavy. She could easily lift
one of you kids!"
The boys looked up at the kite, far, far above their heads in the blue
sky. It made them feel dizzy to think of being up there. Then, to Jim's
surprise, Billy spoke.
"I'll go up," he said.
Of course Jim knew that he had no business to let his small brother do
anything so dangerous. But he did long to show that the kite he had
made, himself, was as good as an aeroplane.
"_Will_ you, kid?" he said. "It would be quite safe. I wouldn't let you
go up very far. You would just have to hook your arm over the rope, and
hang on tight."
"Couldn't he sit on the kite?" asked one of the boys.
"No," said Jim. "It would spoil her balance. We must haul her down as
low as we can, and then he can go up on the rope."
So they hauled and hauled, and little by little the _Eagle_ came down.
Billy's heart beat fast, but he was a Cub and would not show that he was
afraid.
"Now," said Jim, "put your arm over--that's it! I won't let you go more
than about forty feet up. Now, let go a bit, boys."
Suddenly Billy felt himself being lifted off the ground and carried
swiftly up into the clear, sunny air. It was glorious--nearly as good as
being an airman! He could feel the great kite throbbing and straining
above him. He glanced downwards; the earth seemed far below. There were
all the boys hanging on to the rope in a long line.
Suddenly a shout reached him. Looking down he saw a sight that sent a
thrill of horror through him.
Charging across the grass, head down, tail up, was a huge red bull! Its
furious roar made his blood run cold. It was making straight for the
boys. Gazing with fascinated horror, Billy saw the little chaps at the
end of the line let go and start running hard for the road.
He could see his brother hanging on manfully with a few of the elder
boys. Surely they could never hold the kite, alone! It was dragging them
along. The bull was making straight for them. It was on them! Billy felt
the jerk of the cord as the boys jumped aside to let it crash on, past
them. But in their efforts to avoid the horns of the maddened beast the
rope was torn from their hands. Billy felt the kite shudder as the
pressure on the cord was relaxed, and then swoop upwards in a mad rush,
carrying him with it, high, high into the cold air.
What should he do? He could only hang on, hang on. He set his teeth.
Glancing down, he saw that he was already rushing out over the Solent.
He could see little white sailing boats on the blue, blue sea. Where
would he be carried to? When would he come down? Already he began to
feel faint and dizzy. His arm was aching with the strain. He was getting
cold and numb.
"Before long I shall drop off," he thought vaguely.
Then he roused himself. He would not give in. He would have a try, at
least, to bring the kite down. He remembered that Jim had said if any
one was up with the kite itself, it would spoil her balance. He would
try to get up to her.
He had often climbed a rope before. But this swaying cord, high in
mid-air, was no easy matter. Gripping tight with his hands, and holding
it between his legs and feet, he mounted slowly, slowly. At last he was
up and could touch the canvas. He felt the kite dip and quiver. But she
kept to her course, falling a little and swaying giddily. What could he
do? It was impossible to climb up that smooth, tight canvas. Then he had
an idea. Clinging on with one hand and his legs, he felt in his pocket
for his big jack-knife. This he opened with his teeth, and had soon cut
a great ragged hole in the canvas. Thrusting his arm into this first, he
drew himself up until he was sitting on the spar. At once the great kite
swerved, heeled over, trembled, and began to come down.
But the wind was very strong, and Billy was very light. The _Eagle_
still kept on her way, though wobbling very much now and then, as if she
meant to do a "spinning nose-dive" into the sea. Looking down, Billy
could see the great waves tossing and surging below. Would he ever reach
the other side? He clung for dear life to the spar of the kite. He was
so cold that he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. So, taking off
his belt, he slipped it under the spar, and then lying flat on his
front, fastened it round him again.
Looking down over the edge, he saw that he was across the Solent and
beginning to skim over the mainland. He was flying over trees and
fields, for he had left Portsmouth away on his right. When and where
would he come down?
[Illustration: "Clinging on with one hand and his legs ... he had soon
cut a great jagged hole in the canvas"]
Suddenly the kite turned over, and Billy would have been thrown out, had
he not been strapped to the spar. He clung on like grim death, trying to
imagine he was an airman, looping the loop. Then the _Eagle_ seemed to
lose her balance altogether, and Billy felt himself falling towards the
ground, the kite merely acting as a parachute.
What happened he never knew, for he opened his eyes to find himself
lying on the ground with a crowd round him.
"He's all right," said a cheery voice.
He was surrounded by wounded soldiers--he recognized them by their blue
suits and red ties.
"Where am I?" he asked, in a very faint little voice.
"'After looping the loop three times the gallant airman made his descent
in the grounds of Netley Hospital,'" said one of the Tommies as if he
were quoting from a newspaper!
The next thing Billy knew was that a doctor in a white coat, with khaki
puttees showing from under it, had picked him up in his arms and was
carrying him across the grass between rows and rows of huts painted
white and grey.
Before long he was lying on a bed with a Red Cross nurse bending over
him.
"You'll soon be all right, sonny," she said in a comforting voice. "Now
drink this. You _have_ had a fly! But the doctor says there's no harm
done--only a few bruises. I expect you feel a bit shaky."
He stayed in the hut that night, and had a splendid time. Every nurse
and patient in the hospital wanted to have a look at him and hear about
his wonderful flight. The next day his father came over and took him
home.
"Good-bye! Good-bye!" he said, waving his hand to the Tommies who came
to the gate to see him off.
"So long!" they cried. "Fly over and see us again, one day, kid!"